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  1. #1
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    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    GP
    10,802

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    34
    Race
    Telgradian
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Salvar

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    The Only Morality is Chance

    Solo. Set straight after the events of the Redemption of Tylmerande
    At first, there was a high pitched humming, followed by a deep rumbling akin to thunder.

    Then there was a flash. It was so bright that it could be seen for a mile around. The streets of Ettermire shook and shuddered for the briefest of moments as a portal the size of a house opened up in the centre of it and spat out Shinsou Vaan Osiris, rag-dolling him into a factory wall on the far side.

    There was a thud, and a crack, and it was a minute or two before the Telgradian sorcerer moved. When he did eventually do so, the beaten and bloodied man only just made it to his feet, helped by an iron railing and driven by an unquenchable rage. His sword, still gripped tightly in his hand,was being swept across the floor from side to side as if he were blindly still trying to strike something in a fever. Golden eyes swivelled from side to side furiously as he chunnered all manner of obscenities.

    “Arius?! Fucking bastard! Where did you go?!”

    It took the battered Brotherhood leader a few moments to realize two things. Firstly, that Arius hadn’t come through the portal from Corone with him, and a quick check of his spirit sense confirmed this as his anger became subsumed by pain and exhaustion. The second thing was that he was making a scene, and the manner of his arrival had attracted some attention.

    Shinsou immediately stopped flailing, and dropped his sword arm by his side. He stood now in the centre of an unfamiliar but well swept road, blood tricking from his lips and his white coat torn to ribbons, surrounded by dozens of pairs of silver eyes. The gathered crowd, drawn into the street from their houses by the ruckus, were varied in sex and age but all of them had the same charcoal skin, pointed ears and tightly pursed lips. Some of them babbled to each other in hushed, indistinguishable words, whilst one or two of the older men seemed to address the panting Telgradian directly.

    “Tk’thuy? Ambpr’lan?”

    It sounded elvish, and the men looked similar to the dark elves that Durandal had described back home, but he couldn’t be sure.

    “I am, err,” Shinsou looked around, stumbling over his words to find a starting point, “I’m from Corone. Err…Lost. Where am I?”

    The Telgradian proceeded to point to the surroundings, shrugging his shoulders to express his confusion. It felt a bit hopeless.

    Going well, this. Fuck, my head hurts.

    The only word that elicited a response was Corone. The taller of the two dark elves that had questioned him in gibberish stepped forward, his eyes quizzically scanning the Telgradian’s form. Shinsou could tell the elf was trying to engineer a way over the language barrier and eventually the dark skinned, well dressed apparent father of two stood and gestured to a place high above and behind Osiris.

    “Ettermire. See? Spires.”

    Sure enough, the nexus of Ettermire’s famous black towers exploded into view as the Telgradian turned his head. Learning geography beyond Corone had been more of a “hands-on” experience for Shinsou, and so what he knew about Salvar and Raiaera were very much based on what he had seen for himself, but Alerar was a different story altogether. He knew the name Ettermire. There was also no mistaking the spires that housed the nobility of Alerar; the very advisors to the king, as the names and places appeared in many leather bound books in his personal collection in Whitevale. Shinsou had read of the Alerarian / Raiaeran war, and of the technology that spawned from this very place. Plenty of advanced steam machines and weapons were made here. There were even rumours a few years ago that Alerar had gotten in on the act of biological weapons, too.

    He was here now, in the flesh, in a place that was altogether too big and unfamiliar for his liking.

    So, he sent me to Alerar. Smart move; did he send Storm here too?

    His friend had fallen victim to one of Arius's portals too, just before the bloody battle that had led to this point. It was possible he was here, but the Telgradian couldn't sense him, yet.

    No point trying to ask these people about him at the moment. We're barely still on place names.

    The dark elf ahead of him smiled more cryptically than any mere mortal ever could or would. He was a tall, slender one, with maybe an inch on Shinsou himself. He sported the coldest silver eyes the spellsword had ever seen, and was dressed in what looked like a uniform or robe, from some unknown tradition to this Telgradian. The whole outfit was red and gold, with a cape that opened in the front. There were insignias, although Shinsou was unsure of whether they were a military rank or noble house as he carried no weapon at all, by the looks of it.

    “Ettermire. Alerar.” Shinsou confirmed with the drow, who nodded curtly. He jutted a thumb at himself. “Radasanth, Corone. Lost.”

    The other considered him for a long while before softly answering in broken tradespeak. "You fight? Many hurt?"

    Shinsou thoughtfully stared at him, parsing the words out in his head for a long while.

    “Yes. Not fight in Alerar. Fight in Corone. Lots of hurt.” He felt stupid, but again, Shinsou pointed at his various wounds and then raised a finger in the direction he believed Corone to be in. He was keen to ensure the drow understood he was not their enemy, and that he had been fighting in Corone before being dumped here.

    The dark elf turned to another of his number, and muttered something else quickly in elvish before turning back to Shinsou.

    "Understand." the dark elf answered. "Follow."

    ...what have I been thrown into here? Shinsou wondered, as he nodded cautiously. The elf picked up on this hesitation and smiled before speaking, "Corone, not enemy. Rest. Rest and food."

    As good a start as any. Lead the way.

    The drow walked up to his watching family, and gestured for the soiled Telgradian to follow him into their home as the crowd began to disperse around them. Shinsou watched for a moment to make sure there was no sort of ruse, and then wiped himself down a little, feeling only a little more settled before deigning to sheathe the still wielded Enpera.
    Are you looking for sympathy? You'll find it in the dictionary, between shit and syphilis.

  2. #2
    Administrator

    EXP: 120,900, Level: 15
    Level completed: 12%, EXP required for next Level: 14,100
    Level completed: 12%,
    EXP required for next Level: 14,100


    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    GP
    10,802

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    34
    Race
    Telgradian
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Salvar

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    His mind a muddle from the cyclone of events, Shinsou nevertheless followed the drow and his family slowly to their house, which was just set back from the pavement of the street he had been unceremoniously dumped in minutes earlier.

    The Telgradian was careful not to bowl over two of the children as he entered, as they broke into excited sprints and each departed for a different room of the house via his flanks. A hallway ahead widened and split out into two staircases; one that sloped down a storey, where the older kid went, and one that led up to a second floor where the youngest disappeared to. Between the stairs, the small corridor continued into an open plan kitchen and living area. The expanded room had exits through wide, squat arches at either side. Several dozen candles flanked the room from within their standing, wrought iron holders.

    “Come. Follow.” The charcoal skinned man gestured for Shinsou to join them in the living room, and motioned to a chair in the corner, near a window. “Sit. Moment please.”

    Osiris walked to the wicker chair and sat, unusually blasé about the circumstances. To accept at face value the honest intentions of someone he had only just met was odd for him, but the Telgradian was too tired to worry about what might be waiting in the wings at this point. The only thing that spoke to the possibility of any sort of unusual behaviour was an occasional flurry of elvish spoken between the elf and his wife, who, covered in a loose brown robe, clutched at a bowl of water and a cloth. In fairness, it seemed she was in a hurry to tend his wounds, and the drow husband was trying to lower her sense of urgency.

    As the couple spoke amongst themselves, time caught up and Shinsou’s mind started to evaluate everything that had happened. Arius had come through that portal with him in the beginning, but was now nowhere to be seen. Had he returned to Corone? It was plausible, given his mastery over teleportation. If he had, then Felicity would likely already be dead. Arius might even have gone to pick off Storm while he was isolated. Osiris wrestled with these grim scenarios for moment, almost forcing himself to believe that Arius had accidentally sent himself somewhere far away, drained all of his power and stranded himself in the arse end of nowhere. Or, that he had gone after Storm and his friend had flash-fried the bastard. Even for a rational man, he needed this moment of illogical thinking to cling on to some feint hope that this all hadn’t been in vain.

    Because otherwise, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

    “Here. Please, let me clean you up.”

    Shinsou's mind was shaken awake from his thoughts, almost stunned to hear a coherent sentence. The voice belonged to the drow’s wife; light yet warm-hearted. She pressed a cloth within her hands to his eyes for a few seconds, allowing cold water to cleanse his stinging skin of grit and blood. He forced himself to look at her through the trickles of liquid, and noted her concerned expression as she examined his chest.

    “You speak tradespeak?” Shinsou asked, as her fingertips explored an area around his pectorals and stomach where his tunic and coat had torn away. “My name is Shinsou. I’m from Corone.”

    “Yes. My name is Dahlia. My husband, Aoi, uses me as his translator. Forgive him, he is still learning.” Her voice trailed as she examined a small group of perforations. The crimson, triangular looking wounds were surrounded by glistening red. Her eyes fixed on the holes.

    “I’ve never seen a weapon that could make cuts like that.”

    "It wasn’t a weapon. It was a man." Shinsou said aloud, wincing as Dahlia’s hand pushed some antiseptic liquid into the punctures. “Or a close approximation of one.”

    “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dahlia didn’t make eye contact, but drained the excess blood from the cloth in a bucket. The water quickly ran red as Shinsou averted his gaze slightly.

    “I was trying to stop him from killing my friends." The reason was designed to lack context, to avoid having to answer more uncomfortable questions.

    “And he sent you here?” Dahlia asked, “With magic?”

    “Yeah.”

    “From Corone?” The tone in her voice suggested she was unsure whether or not she believed him, but went with it anyway.

    “Seems that way.”

    "Is he still alive? Did he follow you here?" The questioning seemed more urgent, as if to assess an imminent threat to her and her family. Shinsou shook his head.

    "He's not here. I don't know where he is, but he didn't come to Alerar. I'm sure of that."

    The Telgradian sat for a few more minutes, grappling with the physical and emotional pain tearing through him. The noises down the hall from the children slowly crept into his consciousness, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned, looking down the carpeted corridor. He could make out their shadows, hopping between the doorways clad in toy armor and hefting shields. They jabbed and swung at each other with makeshift halberds, yelling battle cries.

    “Could have done with a handful of them at the time,” Shinsou smiled, nodding in their direction. “Spirited and strong.”

    “The older one is Aki, and the youngest is Aldran,” Dahlia replied with a smile, her silver eyes meeting Shinsou’s for the first time. “Aoi wants them to go into the military, but I think they’ll be wasted there. Both of them want to be engineers. They are good at building things.”

    Aoi hadn’t spoke for a while, but used the opportunity to at least make the effort to chime in. “Aki, Aldran, strong. Much honour in family. Make proud.”

    “I think they’ll honour you, whatever they choose to do.” The Telgradian’s pleasantries were genuine, but also somewhat by design. Aoi and Dahlia both smiled, and at that point Shinsou knew he had won them over a little. He had finally met someone who spoke his language, and seemed content to help. Right now they were all he had, and he’d have to play the game a little bit, but it was also somewhat nice to be in the company of genuine people for at least a short while.
    Are you looking for sympathy? You'll find it in the dictionary, between shit and syphilis.

  3. #3
    Administrator

    EXP: 120,900, Level: 15
    Level completed: 12%, EXP required for next Level: 14,100
    Level completed: 12%,
    EXP required for next Level: 14,100


    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    GP
    10,802

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    34
    Race
    Telgradian
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Salvar

    View Profile
    The night was relentless.

    It had been hours since Aoi, Dahlia and the kids had gone to bed, and darkness had long since consumed the day, but Shinsou was still restless in the silence. The Telgradian’s joints ached from lying on the hard floor, despite Dahlia’s best efforts to provide him with some pillows and a makeshift mattress. Beads of cold sweat glistened in the moonlight like morning dew on his smooth skin. As he lay prostrate on his bed, his eyes stared out through the living room window at the sky and he wondered the same things over, and over, and over again.

    Where is Arius?

    Where is Storm Veritas?

    Did Felicity survive?

    ...How am I going to get back?



    [WIP]
    Are you looking for sympathy? You'll find it in the dictionary, between shit and syphilis.

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