A Home That's Not Home

[Ashla]

A Home That's Not Home

http://www.atrixforums.com/forum/attachments/motorola-atrix-graphics/12611d1368077380-share-your-wallpapers-9947-snow-storm-1920x1080-fantasy-wallpaper.jpg

Open! Just read the recruitment first. http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28557-Returning-to-Old-Haunts-Want-to-Join-Me&p=241825&viewfull=1#post241825

[Ashla]

Not one snowflake fell onto the mounds of snow stretching endless miles across the sea of white. It still seemed to be snowing though thanks to the howling winds powered by nature. Strong winds threw snow up and mixed it like soup. Within the void but beautiful landscape, two figures pushed across the icy world. Icicles overrode more icicles, building on top of each other in what little of the rocks and trees were still peaking through the ground. The sky was clear in a starry night. In every direction possible was more mountain. One mountain peaked so high, it seemed to touch the crescent moon shining above.

The landscape seemed peaceful, but the couple trudging through it weren't.

Covered from head to toe in layers of clothes, it was hard to tell them out from a person and a snowman. Snow clumps and spray clung onto the outermost coats. It was barely noticeable that one was colored blue and the other was brown. The fellow in the brown coat shuddered, "I forgot how blistering cold it is here!" He shouted.

The other one shouted from beneath her shell of clothes, "Forgot?? How could you forget? You lived here more than half of your life!"

A chuckle could be heard under the whited out, brown coat, "But Corone is so nice... and with you around it's hard to remember anything but how beautiful you are..."

If she could of, the girl would have placed her hands on her hips, "Oh please, Julius! Gosh..."

Julius just laughed.




~~~


Later within the day, the two came across a small village hidden behind a caved mount of rock. Snow still flew through in bountiful amounts. The small village was made up of mostly oak cottages and pits dug from snow. Snow was packed around the cracks in all structures, a technique common in this country to keep houses heated.

Julius watched two young children building snowmen at the outskirts, a single guard keeping watch close by. The guard wore tattered clothes, a double layered cloak, and an iron breatplate obviously made from scraps. He had a roughly carved oak spear in a blue hand.

He kept more watch over the children than anything else. Leaning against his pathetic weapon and observing the ragged young ones roll a ball of snow together. They could be heard from even where the snow drenched visitors were observing. "We're making new soldiers to help you, Willery!" "Yes, they will protect us!"

The girl next to him chuckled then sighed. Julius placed a hand on her shoulder. The girl gathered some strength then started towards the shivering guard, "Home sweet home..."

[Philomel]

This far north, the sea was as frigid as a benumbed snowbeast in winter. On the horizon, where the true bitter winds blew and Berevar began, there appeared a thin crust of ice on parts of the water. This was coupled with baby icebergs, that were the mere beginnings of the behemoths that dominated the most northerly oceans. Far away from these dangers, however, a ship made her way East, having detatched from Salvar some nautical miles back and steadily ploughing through the cold waves.

At her bow a small form was huddled. He was a dull brown-orange and had a sweeping tail cuddling around his haunches. Though the powerful wind gave them a good blast to sail where they longed, it also hit his body firm and hard. The cold made him feel raw and terrible, like he had no fur at all. Much unlike his form's white-coated cousins he was not made for this weather. Instead he relied on the warm breath of the infant dragon twisted in a circle beneath him. As Veridian was perched on the forecastle, looking out over the icy waves and their power, Delath was on the deck floor, sending enough warm smoke rings to at least keep the temperature around here survivable.

Clearly it was a frosty spell. That or they were far too far north. Philomel did not remember it being this cold, at least when she had been on their island destination itself. However, then, there had been lots of fire back in that time, in that battle, and overwhelmingly the adrenaline rush of killing had overtaken everything of her being. This - this was simply the sea, and as her ship now powered steadily towards Eiskalt for the pure idea of getting gold from the ruined land, she placed the weather aside as a mere annoyance, and strode towards her familiars.

"Greetings," she said, lightly, pulling her bearskin around her torso.

Luckily, as a member of the species 'faun' Philomel had a natural warm covering on her bottom half, but the rest of her was still open to the elements. Before even setting sail she had decided - intelligently, it had turned out - to prepare the ship and load it with enough warm skins for all crew members, for sleeping and for wearing. A simple trade with a merchant in Salvar, for exchange of a night's pleasure and a couple of hundred gold had broken the deal, and now the crew of the Fiesty Fox were able to sail in a warm condition to the place where they might gain some treasure.

The fox and the dragonling turned, and responded in kind. One yapped, the other gurgled respectively, then turned back to continue watching the voyage before them. There was no sun, really, to speak of. Just a white orb in a white sky that gave no real strength or heat to them. Leaning on the barrier beside them, the Nightingale, Captain of the ship, and Matriarch of the Gilded Lily, made the decision to stay with them, all three focusing on the moment when they would at last, again, reach Eiskalt.

[Rosie]

"Desperation" Rosie let slip from her cracking lips. The simple thought of desperation came to mind as Rosie saw first hand the devastated nation. Rosie adjusted her hood as she walked past the guard on duty at the town's entrance. Her business in the formerly war ridden nation was little more than a research trip but still this called for some digression.

The mood of the snow covered town was little more than apathetic. Cut off from the rest of the world or nation for that matter, everyone seeming to let the chills of their land dampen their spirits. The young Psychic noticed the children playing out front making a snowman and enjoying the snow. At least the children could show positivity since the war. Snow kissed at Rosie's red cheeks, her compact frame concealed completely by a beautiful scarlet layered cloak. The length of her cloak outlined with stained white hare and fox furs. She looked like her name sake, a red rose resting on a blanket of white bliss. Rosie was looking for a warm place to stay the night, anywhere to rest and make her operation's headquarters.

Rosie noticed as she dredged her way through the snow that all the buildings looked almost unused. But nestled in the middle of cold town was building lit up and looked to be more active. Rosie approached with caution making sure to sense for any negative thoughts or presences. "Well Buddy, we will be here for a while." Rosie's timid voice woke up a little white mouse resting in her fluffy hood. He stretched for a moment before rubbing his chin against hers. "I know your always ready to do some studying and keeping me company." She said as she loved him back before pushing him back to his bed in hood.

Rosie stepped up onto the covered deck that fully surrounded the small Inn. The sign above the door read The Frozen Horsemen and from inside she could hear the sound of a lone minstrel trying to lift the spirits of whomever is in there. Rosie lifted her hood up and over her head with her Telekinetic mind making sure not to disturb her mouse friend. Before she had realized it a man leaning against the wall of the Inn spoke out.

"Fine day were having isn't it." The crusty old Eiskalt man said with a smile barely visible from under the vail of his hood. He whore a brown leather hood with fur robes and had both a crossbow and long sword attached to his hip.

"Are you kidding?" Rosie said sorta confused.

"You must not be from around her lass."

"What gave you that notion." She said with her most cocky voice she could. Not that she was trying to be rude but it had been a long and cold trek up to this village after disembarking the ship she traveled here on. "Im sorry, I don't mean to be rude but I'm very tired."

"Its okay lass, Im staying here too I guess ill be seeing you around." He said before drifting his view into the snow fall.

Rosie entered the Inn and began to set up her room and equipment.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

When you are single-handedly responsible for unleashing a plague in a country that infected thousands and killed thousands more, common sense would dictate that you never return to those lands.

However, when you have a series of burning questions in the back of your mind--like "why are my arms made of vines?" and "how come a man whose face I half blew away with gunfire survived that incident, attacked me later, and said that I needed to see The Master?"--your anger and curiosity can override your better judgment.

As so it was, I found myself back in the snow-hell that is the small island nation of Eiskalt.

It was both comforting and disappointing to see that it survived the plague and the war that the Crimson Hands brought to it.

I had the luxury of planning a disguise and backstory on the boat ride in. Granted, most everyone who saw my face here is either dead or long gone; but it never hurts to be prepared for these sort of things.

Two days after I set foot on the island through the northern ports, I found myself in a small settlement that was in the middle of construction. The area around it was still covered with a layer of fresh, blowing snow, and the temperatures were frigid. Whoever was in charge of overseeing the town's development was either an utter idiot, or they were a cunning member of a syndicate who knew all of the loopholes, secrecy, and cheating possibilities building in such a location would provide.

The town itself was no great shakes, as it had only been mere months since the initial stones were laid down and walls erected. They seemed to have done a good job putting up guard posts and walls surrounding the place so far, but it was generally lacking in amenities. It was mostly small cottages that hunters and traders were holed up in. Of course you had a barracks for the unfortunate souls tasked with its defense. You had a few general stores, a forge attached to a weapons and tools shop, a grocer and pharmacist (just in case a certain plaguesinger happens to sneeze on someone while she's in town, probably), one--one, 1, singular--tavern, and a couple inns.

I found myself in a sad little place that didn't even have a name yet; just a sign hanging outside the door that had an etching of a bed and a frothy ale mug burned into it. The interior was just as unimpressive. The place had clearly been built, but it didn't exist in a state much more advanced than that. Decorations were sparse, and there was only a couple tables with mismatched chairs around them. At least the stone fireplace had a nice, hearty fire roaring within.

I shook my shoulders to allow some of the snow that had collected on my fur-lined coat to fall to the wooden floor as I approached the counter. It was manned by a fresh-faced man who couldn't have been much older than I was. Not terribly handsome, with a button nose turned red from the intense cold and a mop of dirty blond hair. He sized me up for a brief moment, his gaze lingering on the dark green hooded face mask I wore for longer than he probably should have. "Something I can help you with, ma'am?"

At least he had manners. "Yes," I replied. "I'm on a pilgrimage, but I cannot safely travel these during this weather. I wish to secure lodgings as long as it takes to ride out the storm."

The innkeeper cocked an eyebrow. "A pilgrimage? Of what sort? Eiskalt's a bit out of the way, and the recent war tore up a lot of places..."

Of course I know that, you dillhole. I helped out. "My journey is taking me deep within the wooded foothills in the southwest, and it is not to a temple in any normal sense."

The man shrugged, clearly not interested in continuing the discussion (which was disappointing, because I had put a lot of time and effort into crafting my disguise, and this fucker was going to waste my first real chance to use it). We talked prices, I tossed him a few gold while he slid over a key, and I picked up my gear and walked up two flights of stairs to get to my room.

It was... yeah, it was a room at an inn. There was a bed, a chest for my valuables, a mirror, and a washbin. Nothing special here. Thick beige curtains were pulled over the windows to keep the sunlight out, and a small iron stove kept the room at a decent if not chilly temperature. I was thankful for the enchanted arctic leather vest I wore that kept me warm at all times. Things like this were useful in the frozen wastes I constantly found myself playing around in.

I set my canvas satchel on the end of the bed and began tearing out books. I had collections of fairy tales and monster manuals that described and detailed Briarhearts--their abilities, their habits, their physiologies... The same materials that I had with me the time I encountered Ashling in a small Salvic city; an encounter that told me that a vile game was afoot, and I needed to stop it.

My Archivist's Notebook laid open on the green comforter, its pages showing scribbles that detailed where in Eiskalt I was to travel to within the next couple weeks or so. I have encountered a few other Briarhearts since Ashling burned to ashes in that basement--apparently my actions that night were not seen as good or something, and I pissed off their master--and in their dying breaths, they gave up the location in the mountains of where I was turned into one of them.

Oh yes, this was certainly a pilgrimage; a pilgrimage of death and destruction that would not stop until I flayed the chest, cracked the ribs, and ripped the still-beating heart out of the master of the Briarheart clan.

I'm coming to get you, fuckers. (http://youtu.be/R6L9bUouDr8?t=2m10s)

[Eldric]

Frozen by the cold, buffeted by the wind, and crusted with snow, a single horse and its cloaked rider approached the walled village at a flagging trot. Steam clouds rose from the horse's muzzle as it panted and snorted, while miniature wisps accompanied the rider's reassurances into the frigid air. Together they wound their way through the surrounding fields and into the shadow of the wall, where the gelding's reins were pulled taut, forcing the beast to a halt in front of the rude wooden gate.

"Halt!" came the gruff shout just a half-second later, as expected. Swaddled in furs and wearing an iron half-helm that was almost as rusted as the spear he carried, a lone guard pulled away from the wall and moved to block the gate. "What's yer business here, traveler?"

"Looks to me like no one has business here," the rider replied sharply, gazing at the ramshackle village sprawled out just beyond the wall.

The guard's expression hardened with suspicion. Eldric watched his gaze move to the sword strapped across his back before their eyes met once more. "We don't need any trouble here, stranger." A fur-lined fist tightened around the haft of his spear, prompting the northman's mount to stamp its hoof in aggravation.

"Easy, Strider." The Skavian stretched out a hand to pat the gelding's neck. When he calmed Eldric's attention returned to the guard. "I've seen nothing but trouble in this frozen hell-hole," he confided wearily, "and I've had enough of it for the time being. I'm here for a bed, some supplies, and that's it. You'll see my back on the morrow, you've my word."

If the guard was taken aback by his sincerity, it didn't show. Giving the northman one last, long look, he turned and banged a mailed fist against the gate. It creaked and groaned as it was hauled open to reveal another guardsman on the other side, cursing and puffing as he labored over a pot-belly. Eldric flicked the reins negligently and Strider seethed past the two men and into the village proper.

"Don't make me regret this," the first guard called after him.

Ignoring him, the Skavian let his gaze roam freely as Strider carried him down the village's main avenue, slate gray eyes moving from building to building, analyzing. Like the wall, the buildings were made from rough hewed timber that looked to have all been logged from the same forest. Most of the homes and businesses were modest- in a word- but in good repair, and Eldric didn't see a single beggar anywhere. 'Course not, he mused, people in a place like this have nothin' to give. Only a few of the villagers were brave enough to face the day's bitter cold, but none failed to give the Skavian and his ebony mount looks of the lingering, nasty variety. "There's that small-town hospitality," he muttered to Strider with a tired grin.

He dismounted in front of the only two-story building he'd seen so far, taking a moment to tether Strider to a sign post reading, "The Frozen Horseman" before ascending the steps. A middle-aged man with the hard face of a soldier was leaning against the wall just outside. Their eyes locked briefly, solemn gray meeting pale chips of ice, and Eldric felt his hackles rise. There was something off about him, something that went beyond the common brutality of the warrior. He felt his hand drift toward the dirk on his belt, but the villager only nodded pleasantly and shifted his attention back to the falling snow as Eldric entered the inn.

A wave of warmth and sound hit the northman the moment he stepped inside. A large, circular pit in the center of the room was home to a roaring fire, and at one of the tables clustered around it sat a young blonde woman cradling a lute. She plucked a few notes that carried above the conversation of the inn's few patrons, then broke into a mellow song both low and sweet. Noting the absence of a begging bowl, Eldric's brow arched in surprise. It was rare for the inn of a backwater town like this to spring for a minstrel.

His mood a somewhat lighter shade of black, the northman approached the counter. Calloused knuckles rapped against the splintered wood, demanding service.

[Leaf]

For three days he had hidden in the stores, along with his companions. For three days they had been subject to tossing waves, dull darkness and constant gluttony. Being in the storeroom of a ship that served a couple of royals and many more passengers it had been easy to keep three little pigs well fed, to the extent where their appetites were full. As the pig-father sat atop a crate and kicked his hooves his small suidian compadres finished their dinner.

It came with a light bump, and that bump felt good. What followed was the splash near the direction of the bow and the rattle of a chain, then many creaks and shuffling as suddenly people moved en mass. The more subtle noises Popsy, the female spotted piglet, heard, such as those of the gangplank being shifted onto the peir, and it was not long until the entire truffle-hunting company realised what had just happened.

Leaf blinked, then skipped to his feet. A grin appeared on his face as he knew what this meant, of what had happened. Quickly he gestured to his pigs, pointing to a series of empty crates, those that they had come in and also eaten the entire contents of. One by one they squealed, and decided to enchant him by making him chase their little curly tails around the store, despite the fact they knew perfectly well what he wanted and why he wanted it. After all his time with them, of teaching them and helping them to maturity, Leaf could not deny that the three little pigs were still children and animals at heart, and only wanted to play when he wanted to go on an ingenious mission.

However, he did manage to grab them. And he did manage to deposit them into a crate. Swiftly he also took into the box with them various blankets and covers, knowing that the place they were about to be let loose onto was not pleasant. Bitter winds blew there, along with harsh hailstone, and it was not hopeful that they would even be able to get off the island of Eiskalt the same way they had come. So the whole idea of this journey had been foolish.

Yet, it had been the only idea Leaf had had. After all his time with both the organisations, known as P.A.L.E. and that mad one called the Tarot-something, he had not begun the life he had dreamed of, back in Paradisia. He had left the faun homeland in order to find something knew, and he had in the presence of his half-sister. The woman who was stronger, more powerful and more wanted than anyone he had ever met. But - but ... he could never follow in her hoofsteps. So he had tried to find his own path, one that would jar against hers and maybe cause her to see the good side of people and begin to believe in love, however that seemed hopeless now. It had led him to follow the ridiculously pregnant leader of P.A.L.E. to here, this frozen wasteland island, and become stowaway and soon someone that nobody wanted.

Useless. That was how he felt. He curled up tight as the crate was lifted, and then carried. He said no words and hoped the pigs did not speak as the 'packages' were brought off the ship and left at the dock with no one to guard them. When alone he pushed the lid off his crate, and freed his companions, all to start running madly in no particular direction. All for no particular reason other than boredom. Other than to follow Ashla Icebreaker. Other than to show his worth and/or protect her because - by Drys how could she be so foolish travelling at such a state she was in?

[Pestarzt]

The ship bellowed and creaked as it finally set itself in port. Waves of shiver cold salt water lashed against in a constant rocking rhythm, finally quieting when the anchor was thrown into the icy sea below. The sky shone through the portcullis in darkened silver rays, barely brightening the rank, dank stillness of the below decks. Within its shadowy womb, Alex lumbered to his feet from the seat he'd made out of a spare whiskey barrel. Unsure legs wobbled towards the only staircase in sight, but stopped when a lone figure appeared in front of him. A gleaming white, gapped grin greeted him through the shadows.

“Eiskalt isn't what it use to by, kid.” Jack's whistling voice was recognizable from any distance. The smell of chewing tobacco with a tinge of blood mingled with the stale air of the hole.

“I'm, uh, not sure what it use to be,” said Alex, buttoning the last notch on his shirt and tucking the tie into his vest. A cruel chill had followed the vessel ever since they skirted the coast of Salvar. But its tendrils had grown bolder the closer they'd come to the island nation.

“You're not aware of what happened?” The old sailor drew close, and the grim light of day filled his every wrinkle. “The war? The plague? The devastation?” Each word grew in intensity, and each were met by Alex's blank stare. The younger man craned his neck all the while, trying to find some way around Jack and towards the exit. “By gods, why are you going here!?”

“Made a promise, is all.” He stuck his hands in his suit's pockets, flexing his fingers to try to force some warm blood into them. Jack only shook his head.

“At least tell Ol' Jack you brought something warmer to wear?”

“It's a suit jacket.”

“You'll freeze to death before you leave port. The town's miles away from where we landed, inland.” Jack had a father's love hidden behind the gin-soaked enthusiasm of an uncle.

“Who would build a town that far from port?” Confusion washed over Alex in stronger waves than usual.

“Aye, don't ask me. Wait right - ” Jack ran off on his hobbled legs, half-walking and half-limping, before returning with a coat of many furs with a sickly musty odor to it. There was a pride in the old sailor's smile. “At least take the ship's coat.”

Alex felt the material first hand, pulling back a pick when he noticed the many little faces on it. Brown, white, red and black rodent pelts had been crudely stitched together in a mismatched pattern before forming a pointed hood at the top.

“The hell is this made out of?” Despite his protests, he slid the thing on, shuddering a bit when he noticed it had a moist feeling to match the odor.

“Hamsters, mostly. Funny story behind that -”

“You and the rest staying aboard?” Alex seemed a bit more forceful than usual.

“Aye. But we'll wait in port at least a week. There've been storms sighted nearby. Safest if we wait here.” The sailor saddled up next to Alex, gripping his arm partly in solidarity, and partly for support. “Tarry too long, and you'll have to find your own ride off this hell hole.”

Will add more and edit tomorrow, but this should allow you to continue posting.

[ArrowNgor]

(Out of Character: Sorry, I'm not really done with this yet. I still have some more to add, but here's the "rough draft" of it. I will be editing it and so forth....)

A month’s worth of snow gracefully covered throughout the landscapes of Eiskalt and shimmering icicles dangled from trees making everything looked so breath-taking and stunning especially in the dead of night.

I shivered and exhaled a warm breath watching it fade into the freezing air. Pulling up my warm scarf to my numb nose, I looked up in this dark starry night to see millions of stars winking at me guiding me to a town nearby here.

Almost there...according to that kind old woman, she said the next village or town should be right around here...

I've always been intrigued about the Eiskalt surrounded by snow-covered mountains surrounding it. My little knowledge from rumors and stories of Eiskalt War and plagues had tormented my curious mind for weeks until I've decided to travel here....by foot. I began my long-distanced journey to the frozen country stopping at towns and villages to rest and supply myself. Although I have been looked down upon when I said I wanted to travel to the Eiskalt, I was told that if I wanted to go into Eiskalt, I would have to go through the Stahl Gate. Though it has been severed and damaged from the Eiskalt War, it is currently in the process of rebuilding and word has it that the guards/archers are still aggressive and will do anything not to let anything passed…even a visitor.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go through there knowing that I wasn’t strong enough to pass through there just yet. Until, I met the owner of a house I was staying at. She was an ancient and wise woman who told me to call her, “M” and for three days, I stayed and helped her with the cooking and cleaning. She overheard me talking to another guest living in the same house and then one night she knocked on my door…..

On that night….
For some reason I couldn’t sleep, I woke up several times from vivid and realistic dream. I pushed off the soft and warm comforter and got up from my bed. Unknowingly, I walked to the window and sat on the plush chair and leaned back closing my eyes. There I was again…in that dream. I remembered being in the middle of some sort of battlefield with my two katanas in each hand. I felt something warm and sticky on my hands and looked down to see blood covering my small hands. Somehow, I knew that this oozing blood was not of my own; it belonged to others who I have injured or killed. Screams of agony, pain and hopeless all joined hand in hand while death stood smiling ghastly at the scene. Taste of metal and blood filled this suffocating atmosphere and everywhere I see were humans and creatures alike fighting, cursing and dying. Ahead of me was the back of a cloaked figure, the person’s hood fell off and revealed a long thick blackish brown hair. Next to her were a group of – I blinked – warriors? I couldn’t see clearly, but something told me that they were all in this together especially the cloaked figured that was fighting alongside the first figure. I tried calling out, but the noises of the battle muted my small voice and I lost sight of them. Then something or somebody grabbed my hand jerked me back….

I woke up gasping and heard three light knocks on the door. Cautiously, I got up and walked silently to the door. I spied my two katanas beckoning for me to use it and with the my right hand, I grasped it and was at the door. I felt grateful for the fact that I was able to get a room with a peep-hole. I peered in with my left eye and saw the familiar shape of “M”. Curiously, but carefully, I quietly unlocked my triple lock and opened my door to a crack.


“Good evening…or is it Good early morning…Ms. M. How can I help you?” I politely whispered.

She gave a toothless smile which literally creeped me out. “I am fine, thank you.” She had a raspy chuckled, “Are you presentable? I would like to come in….” ]