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Thread: Familiar Ground (OPEN)

  1. #11
    Senior Member

    EXP: 11,761, Level: 4
    Level completed: 56%, EXP required for next Level: 2,239
    Level completed: 56%,
    EXP required for next Level: 2,239

    Paladin_Lorenor's Avatar

    Not Known.

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    Lorenor listened to everything Sage spoke of.

    He knew from past experiences, that there were alternate...versions...of reality.

    In one such adventure, he'd encountered a reality where there were many versions of Lorenor himself!

    The reavers were dangerous seeming creatures and they reminded Lorenor of another entity resident to Althanas' own beastiary.

    The Endless. If The Reavers...are anything like The Endless...they might prove a worthy opponent. He listened to the boy speak, wise beyond his years, as most of the wizard types tended to be.

    Lorenor kept his attention focused on Sage and the portal nearby in case more threats came through. As the proud Paladin stood there observing he considered the situation at hand and was presented with an interesting proposal. "Young one." Lorenor began. "My blade is yours to command for as long as you need it." Lorenor said calmly. He looked at the portal, strangely, it had a familiar aspect to it.

    He didn't know what that particular dimension The Vale was. It did not really matter, Lorenor would have helped Sage anyway. Thinking back to a past life, Lorenor remembered an old friend and lover. Urei the vampire. Urei would have wanted Lorenor to help...he would have anyway as his oath demanded. Lorenor nodded. He looked towards the Kenku woman and her companion, Vitruvion. The later was familiar to Lorenor from a past adventure. Or perhaps, his mind was playing tricks on him again. It happened oft those days with the weight of history on his shoulders...

  2. #12
    Senior Member

    EXP: 59,566, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,434
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,434

    Stare's Avatar

    Avis Tsakaka
    Kenku / Tengu
    Slowly, unsteadily, they emerged from the blood.

    Thick and visceral it clung to Stare's feathers, dripping in long ebbs, in crimson ugliness, as if the monster had possess something more than just bone and flesh. She pushed herself up on her sword, the point of the blade sinking slightly into the bone and stone beneath her as the enchantment that was cast upon it sliced through simple matter. Red coated her black form, and sliding down her brown clothes like a slime from rocks. Standing upright after a moment of stumbling she glanced around them, at the remains of the beast who had been intent on destruction.

    Broken. Bends of joints and hard outerbody shell lay cracked from where they had downed it. Greens, earthy browns and greys were mixed with a mass of blood and gutty colours, that usually remained within the body. Those many eyes of the creature now stared from the decapitated head just a couple of metres away, staring blankly with the endlessness of death. As Stare rolled back her aching shoulders from the pain of their descent Vitruvion himself rose, lips pursing.

    "Well," he said dryly. "That was something."

    She nodded once, but it was a small, anxious nod. Glancing to her the god felt the stress and strain coming from her form, as her body shivered from what they had just done. He paused, calmly leaned over as if he had just been dancing at a grand ball himself and not taking part in the execution also, and he plucked her sword from her hand. Covered in the same blood he gently slid the blade back into the sheath at her side.

    "Come," he grunted, smoothing back his white hair and frowning as his fingers came away drenched in loose flesh. "We must go see the stranger."

    Stare didn't answer. All she did was gaze blankly at those dead, forgotten eyes. She fidgeted a little, not bothering about a slick drop of slimy, sickening torn muscle that slid down her beak.

    The man let out a breath before he flicked a scrap of shell from his shoulder, as casually as one might loosen lint. Then, still with grave, he moved to curl an arm around Stare's form. She did not fight, and did not freeze, she just hung limp. Lifting her up he cupped a hand around her torso and wings and under her thigh. Her body leant against his as he turned and carried her one-handed out of the wreckage of the mantis they had killed and back towards Sage and the new fighter man there.

    "Greetings," he said to the newcomer, "excuse me for our unbecoming state, but it cannot be helped. I am Vitruvion, and this is my kenku, Stare." He did not smile, but stopped short of a metre away to incline his head. Then, he turned to the adrongenous Sage.

    "What can we expect now, sorceror?"
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

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