Fez_The_Kid
06-28-14, 04:59 PM
Closed to Leaf.
Lindequalmë…
An enthralling name. One that would tote dread to even the mightiest veteran. A name that would send to the gallows, a name orators would fret uttering. They cannot be blamed. This place did not appear as macabre as he was told, however, it was something more akin to apocalypse; a portrait of the end of the world... the fatality of life.
It was the flat, bruised truth: this place existed, and was very real in its essence.
Raiaera, once one of the few commanding nations, was now but a land of shunned and forsaken ruins. It's an antique of the past, which had been particularly craved by many entities. In ancient times, its people would stand as one firm barrier, and fend off encroaching forces. Eventually they’d triumph in preserving their homeland.
Moonlight glimmered the ground, which shone so vividly that it seemed like he had found his path to Paradise, when ironically, he'd only found his path to Hell. Trees swayed ominously as gusts blew, moving on their bases like hoofers at a shindig. Their sanguine hue disturbed him horridly. But his purpose quickly re-gained him his grit. Ronrid walked with slow, yet purposeful steps, his hand on his sword’s helve, ready to parry against any assailant.
“Sir,” Poxsu emerged from Ronrid’s clothes, anxiety protuberant in his voice. “I do not like this… I do not like this at all.”
“I know,” Ronrid replied shakily. He could feel his little companion trembling, such ambience did not truly suit the squirrel. He felt defective, whatever adventure awaited, he would have never partook in this should he have known. Ronrid - in spite of his unease about this - was hysterical for whatever malice that lingered within. With each stride, the evening grew darker, and night steadily crawled in.
“Why are we here again?” the squirrel enquired dubiously.
“Adventures, Poxsu, adventures.” The youth attempted to conceal his true feelings, tuning down his voice seemed futile, specially when his emotions were distinct.
“Adventures? Sir, no offense to you, but how do you call this an adventure? You do realize we're being watched?”
“Watched?” Ron said with alarmingly.
“I feel it,” Poxsu paused, then swallowed. If this was the truth, then... so be it. Adventures were adventures, after all.
“I can’t leave now, Poxsu, not this far." They would probably end up lost, and he reckoned it might take them more than a day to find their way out. If that was not bad enough, “Poxsu…” There was a silence, “Poxsu?”
Ronrid shot a shocked glare at his formerly occupied shoulder, which where Poxsu was a moment past. The little coward left him!
“Poxsu!” he bellowed furiously, yet his calls were left unattended. Questions will be asked about this later. “Shit.”
Ronrid came to a halt, and turned on his heels. He must specify where he was exactly, otherwise his fears will curdle into the real world. He can’t be lost, impossible, he had reckoned he would get inside and out without trouble. How could this be?
Gardla drew his neckwarmer; this day was not going to turn out at its finest.
Lindequalmë…
An enthralling name. One that would tote dread to even the mightiest veteran. A name that would send to the gallows, a name orators would fret uttering. They cannot be blamed. This place did not appear as macabre as he was told, however, it was something more akin to apocalypse; a portrait of the end of the world... the fatality of life.
It was the flat, bruised truth: this place existed, and was very real in its essence.
Raiaera, once one of the few commanding nations, was now but a land of shunned and forsaken ruins. It's an antique of the past, which had been particularly craved by many entities. In ancient times, its people would stand as one firm barrier, and fend off encroaching forces. Eventually they’d triumph in preserving their homeland.
Moonlight glimmered the ground, which shone so vividly that it seemed like he had found his path to Paradise, when ironically, he'd only found his path to Hell. Trees swayed ominously as gusts blew, moving on their bases like hoofers at a shindig. Their sanguine hue disturbed him horridly. But his purpose quickly re-gained him his grit. Ronrid walked with slow, yet purposeful steps, his hand on his sword’s helve, ready to parry against any assailant.
“Sir,” Poxsu emerged from Ronrid’s clothes, anxiety protuberant in his voice. “I do not like this… I do not like this at all.”
“I know,” Ronrid replied shakily. He could feel his little companion trembling, such ambience did not truly suit the squirrel. He felt defective, whatever adventure awaited, he would have never partook in this should he have known. Ronrid - in spite of his unease about this - was hysterical for whatever malice that lingered within. With each stride, the evening grew darker, and night steadily crawled in.
“Why are we here again?” the squirrel enquired dubiously.
“Adventures, Poxsu, adventures.” The youth attempted to conceal his true feelings, tuning down his voice seemed futile, specially when his emotions were distinct.
“Adventures? Sir, no offense to you, but how do you call this an adventure? You do realize we're being watched?”
“Watched?” Ron said with alarmingly.
“I feel it,” Poxsu paused, then swallowed. If this was the truth, then... so be it. Adventures were adventures, after all.
“I can’t leave now, Poxsu, not this far." They would probably end up lost, and he reckoned it might take them more than a day to find their way out. If that was not bad enough, “Poxsu…” There was a silence, “Poxsu?”
Ronrid shot a shocked glare at his formerly occupied shoulder, which where Poxsu was a moment past. The little coward left him!
“Poxsu!” he bellowed furiously, yet his calls were left unattended. Questions will be asked about this later. “Shit.”
Ronrid came to a halt, and turned on his heels. He must specify where he was exactly, otherwise his fears will curdle into the real world. He can’t be lost, impossible, he had reckoned he would get inside and out without trouble. How could this be?
Gardla drew his neckwarmer; this day was not going to turn out at its finest.