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#Post#: 402264--------------------------------------------------
A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Demonreach Date: December 18, 2015, 7:46 pm
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there is a fortress; a fortress built long ago to keep some
forgotten threat at bay. As forgotten as the threat, the
fortress slowly faded into legend and ruin, though mostly ruin.
This fortress is known as Moon’s Spawn: A fortress that still
stands against the tests of time and weather, despite it being
abandoned. That is, until recently.
Since the emergence of the False Race, the First sought
solitude, isolation; the North offering this and so much more.
This allowed the First to raise his newly gained members, to
train them in secrecy and in silence, honing their skills;
imprinting upon the fortress their lives.
Moon’s Spawn protects the only passage from the North, though
there are plenty of others; passages no army would dare take
lest extremely stupid. The mountains offer no comfort, no
warmth, shelter, or food.
It is a bleak looking place, made from the mountain itself; the
walls are not scalable as they are one smooth rock as tall as
fifteen men, but scars mar both sides, the North and the South.
Ghosts haunt the halls, skeletons littered the place; the smell
of the fortress is rather earthy, though death lingers within
the deepest halls; the darkest corners. A place that people
avoided through subconscious reasons of survival. Indeed, Moon’s
Spawn was… beautiful. Grim. Dark. Light. But, it had a real…
depth to it, a sense of self unlike anything else. It was…
there, come hell or high waters.
In recent times, however, it has become more lively as the False
Race moved into it; as the humans started to retake the land.
#Post#: 402265--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Jplague Date: December 18, 2015, 7:50 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The pungent copper stench of blood was wafting heavily through
the air, touching all with its sanguine grasp. The stench was
overwhelming, incredibly so, and it burned his heightened
senses. He was left in a state of disoriented shock, with
nothing but the weight of confusion and potential dread crushing
him into the ground. Where was he, and why did it smell like
blood? He hated it. Hated, hated, hated it so much. Why wouldn’t
it go away? Why would it not stop? The feeling that something
horrible had happened was beginning rise up within him at that
moment.
He reached outwards with one of his scaled hands, hoping to
maybe get a grasp of the situation that he was currently in. His
hand felt something beneath it on the ground, it was wet and
fleshy. His breath caught in his throat when he realized that it
was a body part that he had touched. How could it be? His eyes
were blurred causing him to not notice that blood was smeared
almost the entire length of his being. He brought his arms up to
his eyes to expunge them of whatever it was that was blinding
him. No sooner had his eye sight come back to him that he
realized that what lay before him was such a horror that it
could never be forgotten for as long as he lived.
The sheer amount of blood and destruction that had been wrought
instantly began to whittle away at the little sanity that he had
left within him. A human settlement had been destroyed, no, not
just simply destroyed but entirely annihilated from the face of
the earth below it. All manner of the human anatomy was strewn
about, with the bodies of men, women, and children alike piled
on top of each other in every direction. No one was spared from
such insanity.
The incredible amount of blood was flooding the muddy streets
up to a person’s ankles. The intense smell of mud and blood
mixed together had previously hit him full force, but now the
very realization of just how much there was began to set in. His
mind couldn’t comprehend it. It wasn’t natural. Tears began to
stream down his cheek, mixing with the mud and blood below as
they fell. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and let out an
intense cry of anguish. The outburst of emotion boiled up an
unknown power within him, and it suddenly exploded outwards in a
shockwave of bright golden wind, a corona of solar energy. The
unruly power set all that it touched ablaze in bright golden
flames. He brought his hands to his face, to cover his eyes from
the horror of what he had seen.
Houses of the massacred village were now billowing smoke from
them, the golden flames burning everything to ashes. The smell
of burning wood began to mix with the scent of dismembered
bodies forming a sickly sweet smell that made his stomach churn.
He emptied the contents of his stomach into the mud below. A
faint suggestion within his conscience caused a feeling of
urgency came over him, ushering him into leaving the destruction
behind. He stood up, the claws from his reptilian feet digging
into the muddy earth below as he began to stumble away from the
village. He couldn’t tell if it was what little sanity he had
left telling him to leave, or just pure instinct. However, what
spoke to him next was all too clear.
“It was you,” the voice whispered, tearing into his soul like
cursed daggers. He abruptly paused in his tracks, grasping his
skull with both hands in a death grip. His mind was burning from
the chaos left in the wake of his conscience. It spoke again,
this time causing his knees to buckle beneath him. “It was you
who did this Joralion.” Joralion yelled out in agony from the
pain caused by voice within him.
“You massacred this village,"the voice said, followed by a cold
cackle full of malice and insanity. “You tore them apart with a
grin. Sooooo happy, you were as you ripped the flesh and bones
from their bodies with your bare hands. They deserved it, for
what they did to you.” Another cackle ripped through his
conscience which was followed by an intense chill that dragged
its way up his spine.
“No! How could I have done such a thing? I don’t believe you!
Nothing could have made me do something like that.” He soon
realized that he had yelled the words out into the smoke filled
air. No one was actually going to reply, as the only thing he
heard was the sound of his own pounding heart and ragged
breathing. The cackles had faded, but the pain was left behind.
I did that? How could he have done such a horrible thing? It
wasn’t possible, he thought. Not even when he was a mercenary
earlier in life did he ever see such a thing. He had even walked
away from that life before, but here it was again before him
worse than anything he had ever experienced.
Joralion turned his gaze down towards his hands. They were
quivering. Fleshy matter was caught in between his claws and the
fingers to which they were attached. He knew then that what the
voice had said was true, the flesh and blood ringing true.
Joralion realized that wasn't injured in the slightest, yet he
was covered in blood. It was then that what occurred truly began
to set in but in his current vulnerable state of mind, he
couldn’t take what he had witnessed. Darkness swallowed him as
his mind, vision and all of his senses went blank and passed out
into the earth below. A human village, destroyed by Joralion’s
own hands, left his mark of destruction on the earth and the sky
as the village burned from his own golden flames. Smoke rose up
indefinitely into the somewhat clouded dusk sky, signaling to
all that this village had been taken by a violence rarely seen
in the world.
#Post#: 402269--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Demonreach Date: December 18, 2015, 8:13 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
It was a day like any other autumn day. The wind was whisking
away the decaying and dead leaves from the trees. In the light
of the false dawn, the small side-road was occupied. The
shifting of the gravel beneath leather boots broke the seemingly
oppressive silence despite the more natural sounds; the ring of
metal on stone added to the breaker of silence as the horse
plodded alongside the stranger, the reins held in a hand that
was brown from the sun, a hand that was scarred. The trespasser
was a little taller than average with broad shoulders and a
lean, athletic build that was hard with muscle; light,
silver-blond hair shined in the false dawn lighting as the
breaker of silence walked almost soundlessly. Forest green eyes,
dark in color and bright with a sort of inner fire, were lit up
with the passing of light rays within the forest canopy. A face
high in cheekbone and formed a handsome face with sharp
features. A few white lines marred the handsome face of the
stranger with crude, garish slashes: these scars covered his
arms and some of his upper body, rendering about twenty percent
of his body in scar tissue. But the scars didn't detract from
the handsome features but seemed to hand a more of handsome in a
rough, roguish way. Even the air about the stranger was filled
with confidence and a childlike glee that bordered on insane
mischief.
As the light fell on the stranger’s attire, consisting of a cape
and darkly colored shirt and pants and boots. A leather belt
wound its way around the silence breaker's waist and buckled to
this belt was a falchion and a few longknives and a pair of
heavy, parrying gauche. The stranger, by the looking upon its
face and further, its body, revealed itself to be, a man. A
small smile played on the lips of the man as he walked in the
peaceful, serene forest though his eyes tracked everything with
barely a twitch. A bow and a quiver of arrows bounced slightly
as he walked along, his trusty steed at his side.
The horse was holding most of the supplies, though it had
lightened since the day of the journey and, for this, the horse
was glad, though it would ever remain ignorant of the truth of
the emotions within it. The horse held a few scars as well and
carried two more swords: one a broadsword, the other a
longsword. A few more quivers remained untouched by the man
baring the need to check to the fletching. Pots and pans rattled
in one of three of the packs the horse carried, a fourth carried
by the man. The hair of the horse shone dully in the rising sun,
revealing a salt-and-pepper kind of coloring; the horse was old
but just as strong and healthy as it was a few years back, when
it earned the scarring along its hide; a few teeth were missing
from its mouth, one of its ears is torn to shreds and hardly
works; the front hooves cracked and chipped. But the horse was
happy, content, for the most part as the warmth of the sun
soothed aches in its joints.
The man sported a beard that was neatly trimmed, also
salt-and-pepper in color and covering his neck, resting along
his collarbones. The man himself wasn't old but his hair was
prematurely greying but was not falling down, which the man was
thankful for. He scratched at a cheek idly as he felt it itch
and rubbed his nose afterwards. And here, the features and
definition of the man and horse lost a hold on reality as
shadows took them as they neared the darker, lightless parts of
the forest trail in which he and the horse walked along.
It was perhaps as his horse whined, stamping its feet, that
Tristan stopped and smelled the air around him.
Smoke.
Fire.
Looking up, now, he could see the black smoke of a burning
village.
It was but a few minutes away and so, he swung into his saddle
and let the horse go at a trot.
The long strides of the horse ate the distance easily; Tristan
having brought his bow into a hand, holding the reins with one
hand. Being such long term companions, the horse was used to
things like this and knew what signals to heed, given the
pressure of either leg that the Rahl applied.
Dismounting, he murmured a soft command and equipped the
broadsword across his back and the longsword as his hip, the
quiver of arrows the opposite side. He had one nocked already
and made his way into the smoke filled village that offered
nothing but warnings.
The smell hit him like a wall and he nearly lost his breakfast.
What horror...
He gathered his own magic around him, ready to unleash his power
if the need arouse but, as he searched the huts and buildings,
it came apparent that perhaps the threat had left. That was,
until he heard the scream. It was not a human scream, though the
dead bodies were human, so he assumed the worst: the creature
was still here and offered a threat.
With the Additive side of his magic, he pushed the smoke away
from his body and cleared street by street before he found the
source of the scream.
And he thought he was horrified before.
The monster was rather reptilian and covered in viscera.
And it was arguing with itself.
He pulled the arrow back, leaning forward onto a knee as he
aimed before the monster collapsed, perhaps from the horror of
its deeds or just exhaustion.
Tristan frowned.
Not wanting to touch the creature, he wove together strands of
air to carry the monster away from the site of destruction and
went into the forest; he felled, or burned away as it were, the
various trees and created a clearing. He erected a barrier and a
few wards around the creature as he went back to the village.
He burned it all down, erasing the memory of the place; bones
turned to ashes and then nothing as he destroyed what was left.
Gathering his horse, he went back to the creature and watched,
waiting.
#Post#: 402275--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Jplague Date: December 18, 2015, 9:22 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
In the blackness, he could see. It was so strange. How could he
possibly see in complete darkness, he wondered. Floating about
in such blackness gave him such an empty feeling, as if death
had taken him. Was he dead? Is this what came after life? No. He
was sure of it. He could feel the emptiness. How could he
possibly feel anything if he was dead. However, emptiness was
all he could feel. He didn’t know where or who he was and all
that he felt was nothingness. How could you feel nothingness? It
was then that he saw two forms slowly appearing in view before
him in the blackness.
One of the two figures was bright, bathed in flames of golden
light. The warmth of such flames reached outwards into the
blackness and spread over him leaving him with a sense of ease.
His entire being felt energized, as though his life had come
into him. The fire began to burn within him, kindling into long
forgotten passion and love for life itself which he had seemed
to forgotten. This being that stood before him was seemingly
divine. His power radiated forth in the blackness, touching all
with his light. After realizing that he had been blinded by the
awe of this being, he got a closer look at it. The goodness of
this being was apparent from the first glance.
Bright blue scales lined the entire body of this being. A golden
and blue mane of hair flowed down, touching his shoulders in a
billowy manner. With every pulse of power, his hair billowed
outwards as if it was the wind itself. His features were almost
angelic-like. A face that looked to be carved out of whitestone
held a visage of powerful divine confidence. Embedded in the
flesh of whitestone were the most intense eyes that he had ever
seen. Glowing azure eyes of blazing ardency surrounded by fields
of black stared into the souls of all that met their gaze. The
being was held afloat by twin golden wings of gold, which
generated waves of power with every flap. He had never seen
anything like it. They were the eyes of a sentinel that saw all
with their power. This being was radiating such magical power
that it almost blinded him with awe as he floated through the
darkness. He couldn’t stand to tear his eyes away from such a
sight. After a moment, he began to notice that a revolting
stench was beginning to slither its way through the darkness to
him.
The stench permeated his senses with a vengeance, blinding all
six of them with its unmitigated foulness. The stench itself
drew his attention away from the celestial being in the
blackness, something he thought impossible. His attention landed
on a horrific figure floating in the blackness, which surprised
him as much as the first. If anything, this particular figure
was an antithesis to the first. If the first represented order,
goodness, and compassion, then this figure represented chaos,
evilness, and vengeance. The power that it emitted seemingly
would suck the very life essence away from all that it touched.
He realized then that the blackness and emptiness that he had
originally felt was coming from this being. He could feel its
pull, like the gravity of a singularity drawing him it with
immense force.
The appearance of the second being was similar to the first.
Scales lined his body as well, but these were a deep indigo
which were marred by red rune lines and scars covering the
beast’s body. He was hunched over, and a look of intense hunger
was painfully obvious on its visage. Its eyes. How did it have
such such awful eyes? These eyes were insanity-inducing. The
chaos emitted from those red glowing eyes burned into every
fiber of his being. How could such a terrible entity exist? On
the being’s scale-lined back, there were two disgusting scars
where there had once been wings. Such a horrible entity, he
thought.
A familiar sounding cackle suddenly echoed through that space.
The cackle itself made it feel as though ice had formed all over
his body, freezing him in place in the darkness. He couldn’t
resist the pull of this being. It was impossible. He couldn’t
get away from its evilness and it was going to swallow him
whole. A wave of dark magic erupted forth from the terrible
entity, signaling the beginning a bout between the two beings.
The celestial entity raised its hand out and summoned a
greatsword made with impeccable craftsmanship out of
nothingness. He had never seen such a blade in all of his life.
It looked like hope. The celestial entity let loose a yell of
defiance and a wave of bright golden power emitted forth as he
charged the second entity. However, the second entity
disappeared into the shadow of nothingness.
The celestial faltered, for the first time. A bit of his divine
confidence left the entity, a wavering in its seemingly
impenetrable aura. The cackle of the second being echoed through
the blackness, growing louder with each second. It was coming
from here. No, it was coming from there. No, it was coming from
right before him, right behind him. In every direction the
cackle echoed towards him. The celestial entity was too late in
its realization when the second being had already made its move.
Living shadow beckoned forth in front of him. His gray-scaled
hands drew towards the shadow soon followed by his whole body;
he had been sucked into oblivion.
Hunger. Yes, he felt hunger. He wanted souls. Souls were the
only thing that could ease his eternal hunger, though it would
still gnaw at his Blacksoul. Mortal souls and negative energy
sustained him. Where were these? How could he possibly find
them?
His glowing red eyes glanced about as he came into
consciousness. He was in the clearing of a forest. He cackled
and muttered to himself, “Quick on the uptake are we? No no no
no no, this is wrong. This is not where we left this body.” A
deranged smile erupted over his visage, causing his foul breath
to leak out between his sharp teeth. The miasma from his breath
touched the grass below him and he noticed that it began to
wilt. He cackled maniacally once more. “Such fragile things the
living are.”
He was surrounded by a strange barrier of magic. Rage suddenly
built within him, causing his red eyes to glow even brighter
than before. How dare something trap HIM in a barrier?! He would
destroy them, utterly. Black wind surrounded his fist as he
slammed it into the earth below in anger. A small crater
spiraled itself into the ground from a combination of his
magical power and physical strength. The crater was only a
couple of yards wide. No no no no no, this would not do at all,
no. He realized that he couldn’t do anything about it at the
moment however. His power was limited, and he could only summon
a fraction of his original power at the moment. He was trapped,
like a rat. He glanced about in a strange fashion, hoping to see
who it was that had formed such a barrier. He moved his magical
senses around a bit and noticed that the barrier felt like a
mortal's magic though strong it was. He cackled. Yes, a mortal
indeed he thought. Was there someone who he could devour?
#Post#: 402294--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Demonreach Date: December 19, 2015, 12:13 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Tristan had his eyes closed, his senses stretched and awareness
sharp despite his relaxed position. The longsword lay across his
lap as he rested beneath a tree; enshrouded by darkness, thus
invisible to most. However, his glacial eyes opened as he sensed
the being awaken; the monster staring at his position, a certain
hunger within its eyes that struck him as odd, though he felt a
shiver of fear creep within him.
While he had seen monsters more vile and hideous than the one
before him, very few had looked at him with such... hate. No,
perhaps that was the wrong word, but there was a malice
radiating from it.
It permeated the air, its breath made everything stale and
decay. Its presence was a malignant cancer that deserved to be
erased. Tristan had unconsciously gathered both sides of his
magic, and while he realized this, he did not let it go. Nor did
he move.
'Amusing, isn't it, little monster?' Tristan spoke, yards away,
his voice deep and resonating. 'I am Tristan Rahl, your captor.
Perhaps, even, your savior. While you destroyed that entire
village, there are many more surrounding it and, while I have no
doubt to your... hunger, I feel you would not fair well.'
He knew not the extent of the creatures power, but it was great
to strain his barrier; while it was mostly Additive magic, there
were knots of Subtractive that interlaced it; thus, making it
stronger than it normally would be. Additive wards resonated
with power, glyph's surrounded the area around the barrier.
'And before you decide to try and break that barrier and deal
with the many wards I have placed within and around it, perhaps
we may talk. You probably don't get out much, so allow me to
entertain you.' He stood, holding the sword by its sheath as he
walked towards the barrier, letting the being see him. 'I am
Tristan Rahl, War Wizard, at your service.' He bowed slightly.
'While words may not fill your stomach, I'd hate to end you so
soon after awakening.'
#Post#: 402318--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Jplague Date: December 19, 2015, 1:43 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Joralion’s fiery red gaze fell on the human who suddenly entered
his field a vision. A human, good. Though typically, humans were
frail creatures that could barely tickle his appetite, there
were a select few who held great power. Great power indeed. The
man who stood before him radiated magical power that was quite
unique. It was visible to him, and he could see that it was
billowing off of him in waves of magical energy. How odd, he
thought. This human’s magic had two distinct halves that formed
a whole. Typically, humans had one form of magic only. He could
feel his appetite beckoning forth within him. It was certainly
intriguing, if anything. His manic cackle echoed through the
clearing. The dew on the ground below him began to freeze over
as the temperature in the air dropped below zero. His power
fluctuated within him. It slowly was returning to him, bit by
bit. He was probably at twenty percent of his full power now.
“Little human, little human,” Joralion said in a mocking manner
after the human spoke before cackling wickedly. The human was
flippant. Joralion loved flippant ones, as they were some of the
best kills. Defiant ones were better, but flippant would do. The
look of despair on the face of someone close to death made his
power fluctuate even more so he hoped that he could show this
human such a thing. Joralion would be thoroughly satisfied if he
did.
“Your power I do indeed see. You are strong, but how strong? How
long can you hope to contain me?” A wicked grin spread across
his visage, showcasing razor sharp pearlescent teeth. His
draconic eyes blazed forth in certain conviction, showcasing his
own confidence in the power within him. An aura of his own
magical power surrounded him in an explosion, the earth itself
began to tear apart at the seams from the exertion. Shrapnel
made of earth and ice filled the air.
He held a unique magical power himself which was a vile
combination of the elements of darkness, wind, and ice. He could
shape these elements into any form he wished. He could also send
anything that he set his sights on to oblivion if they did not
have the power to resist his magic. The gravity from his magic
shifted the ambient gravity in the clearing. Trees began to bend
under the increased force currently baring down on them, with a
few snapping under the pressure. Joralion could see wards all
about the forest, but they were of no consequence.
“Not for long I’d venture,” his voice sounded, with the
intensity of daggers tearing through flesh. Joralion raised his
hands out before him and beckoned his magic forth. Twin black
vortexes of wind and ice began to materialize around them, with
tendrils of foul black magic erupting all about. He released a
roar from his reptilian lips, the vibrations of which shook the
very air around him. The barrier was going to come down, and
then he’d be free. Such a terrible thing, for him to be
unleashed on the world. He cackled manically once more at the
thought. And to be able to taste such a soul with two different
forms of magic as well. He was beside himself with insane glee.
He could no longer contain his bloodlust and the psychic
energies escaped from him out into the clearing.
#Post#: 402427--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Meeting of Falsity (Open)
By: Demonreach Date: December 19, 2015, 10:18 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Tristan frowned as the being flexed his power, gathering it
within his hands and letting it gather more and more energy to
burst forth from the barrier.
'I may not be able to hold you within that barrier, but you
won't be leaving this clearing. Not as you are...' The last
words were murmured, the wind howling and the air freezing.
The Rahl cared not, for he was enjoying this; a true testament
to his power, to his birthright as a War Wizard.
The gravity left him alone, his body uncaring for such torment;
he stared at the creature, head tilted to the side as he poured
his magic forth.
Additive rose from his hands, his glowing with power, as fire
sparked to life at his fingertips; Subtractive crackled to life
with black ropes of lightning that swirled around him, breaking
the already broken earth. The Rahl's head tilted up, chin
raised.
The wards within the barrier snapped to life, breaking at the
threat of violence and Wizard's Fire blasted from all sides,
lightning so black as to eat the light struck without mercy. The
fact the being was gathering wind as well perhaps made it worse
for the monster.
However, Tristan broke the barrier, letting the pieces of
Additive magic fall before he empowered them, changing them to
pure beams of light that would strike at the creature.
The glyph's also arose as a latticework of Light, of pure
Additive magic that burned the air within it.
Tristan had long ago changed his own genetic makeup, to combat
those stronger and faster than him. His skin was tougher, like
steel; his eyes able to pick up the smallest and slightest of
movements as well as being able to see in darkness; he was
faster than a regular mortal, and stronger as well, but even
this creature was more than enough to end his life should it
break his defense. His bones were denser, as well, as his lungs
were hardier.
His sword was also magic, holding both halves of his power and
serving to enhance his power as well as warn him of threats; it
increased his reflexes as well.
While the monster would possibly defeat him, it wouldn't be a
one sided fight. Beyond that, Tristan was adept at killing
monsters and had faced various kinds. This one was merely
another.
'I do not wish to end your life, creature. Surrender now and go
back to your slumber lest you regret it.' His voice was still
soft spoken, though it was a roar within the clearing; echoing
in the trees.
He was a War Wizard and he was capable of anything.
Richard had done amazing and impossible things, and it was
Tristan's destiny to surpass even him.
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