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Post by Nymiane on Jun 26, 2005 22:02:08 GMT -4
A silent breath was taken in as the figure’s beryl eyes watched from within the thicket. It’s form was easily masked within the thicket, for the dim clothes camouflaged the ‘stalker’ greatly. The hands of the stranger were placed upon the trees, one on each side, the eyes watched ever intently upon where the two ventured. Odd pair. One hand drew away from the tree, fingers dancing across the unknown’s lips, a smirk curling them upwards. Fingers wiggled around as they left the face and feet once again began to draw the person closer to those in the distance. With very precise steps she made her way through the woods, ducking and crouching where it was needed. Speed was not an issue, though she moved so fluidly within the blanket of the thickets, it appeared she was running, or dancing through.
The sound of the larger form’s voice seemed to echo within the forestry, did he wish to draw more attention to them? The other seemed to be just as nimble, silent and hidden as she. Drow, no doubt. As she slipped behind a thick tree she peered over the side, drawing near and closer with each bound she took, her teeth chewed upon her bottom lip, beryl eyes gleaming with anticipation. An auburn brow dipped towards the other as she stepped from the thicket, her form being hit with a ray of light, which shone through the blanketing tree tops. A long sigh of boredom passed over her lips, giving away her position, purposely, and as soon as the sigh cascaded into the air, a short titter was given.
“A little louder, please.”
A strange voice set out into the air, and the female figure gave a low sweeping bow, her fingers curling and dancing, ready to grip upon the hilt of her sword, if need be.
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Post by Icor on Jun 26, 2005 22:16:29 GMT -4
Moaticus began to fall behind. Rather than moving between the trees, the drow leant against them, almost as if he were climbing upward by pulling himself through the forest, clinging to the trees with one outstretched arm at a time. His lithe fingers and their drowish claws stretched out on the bark more and more slowly until Gar-Ten and Malthag were several yards ahead. Moaticus’ expression was bleak and weary. He’d occasionally look back through the woods to find once again absolutely nothing but more fear. Something weakened him, and he expressed his pain by holding his chest it as if he could barely breathe; eventually he stopped, collapsing against a tree while staring back through the woods toward the direction he was fleeing from. His red eyes glared heartlessly into the forest’s misty blanket of haze.
“Just give me a glimpse, fiend. Let me see you once.”
With these words, Gar-Ten learned how far behind Moaticus had really fallen behind, due to a loud shriek that pierced the soft ambiance of the outdoor world.
From the treetops fell by simply gravity a cloak of some kind in the shape of a human with two long blades for arms. It landed and dried, dead leaves swirled through the air around it. The sound of wood being torn splinter by splinter followed the beasts shrieking while it drilled the tips of its blade-arms into the tree on both the left and right of Moaticus’ head.
“Stop your shivering, Moa’,” Wailed a voice from behind a crude, black-metal mask deep in the hood of the beast, “You know I can’t kill you again!”
Of course, this monster’s voice didn’t carry. At Gar-Ten’s distance, it sounded like no more than thunder at a ridiculously high-pitch.
Moaticus’ upper lip twitched. He stared dead into the beast’s mask.
“Old habits die hard”, Moaticus replied, his eyes still searching the forest. His arms lay limp by his sides. The black figure fell directly between Moa’ and Breena, and with its sudden appearance, it was quite possible she’d have been startled, were her attention too greatly affixed to the one she assumed was beckoning her. The drow could no longer be seen.
The beast slowly pulled its blades from the tree. It had no expression, no teeth, and no gaze. Only a slow breathing. It spoke once more, and much more softly, secluding its voice from others. After, it vanished, long before either Gar-Ten or Breena had time to observe it fully.
“I can’t believe you’re taking up this quest. You’re gullible. That’s what killed you last time.”
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Post by Nymiane on Jun 26, 2005 23:39:48 GMT -4
A cold aura seemed to sweep through the woods, it was early morning, it wasn’t odd for it to be crisp, but this, this was different, it was an atypical, bone chilling aura. Breena’s hand slid back, fingers quickly curling around the hilt of a sword, the sound of metal brushing against the scabbard followed pursuit. For the first time in a while a chill ran up and down her spine. Breena brought herself up right very slowly, her turquoise visage scanning the surrounding area, what was out there? Her brow arose again, but this time with a more somber note, her confidence not so apparent, but curiosity and something much like fear was displayed across her face.
“Who is out there?”
Her voice set forth again. Really not questioning anyone in particular, it was more a statement, a rhetorical question to herself. The bulky figure was quite a distance ahead now, the ground seemed to shift, or draw him further away, leaving she and whoever it was that lurked within the gloomy thicket.
Breena could not truly see any figure, but she could hear things, or did she? She shook her head and took a step forward, her eyes catching a glimpse of something, but what? Her voice was ready to call out, but her vocal chords tightened up and was stopped almost immediately. The sounds again, clearly she was not just hearing things now, there had to be another there.. There! There it was again, Breena’s eyes darted towards the wraith, or whatever that creature, that thing was. Her lips parted and eyes glanced towards where the other figure was, and it had vanished and as she shifted her gaze, so did the other. She shook her head once more and turned about, sword still gripped upon.
“What?…”
She murmured. Her mind clouded with confusion, was she seeing and hearing things? It hadn’t been *that* long since she had last slept, perhaps a day or two..
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Post by Icor on Jun 27, 2005 0:11:45 GMT -4
Moaticus groaned softly. He could be well seen by this point, as the figure had seemingly vanished without a trace. The drow hunched forward and took a very deep breath. The red characteristics of his eyes glimmered past the location of Breena for a couple moments before he lowered his hooded head again and held his chest firmly. A few moments of rough panting passed by without any record, and he then righted his posture. He swore under his breath, running a hand down his face slowly.
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 27, 2005 1:01:19 GMT -4
Seconds before Gar-ten heard Moaticus scream he felt a cold chill run up and down his spine, it was a cool crisp day but this was unnatural. Malthag produced a low growl just at the bottom range of human hearing; Gar-ten felt it more than he heard it. As he was turning to see how far behind Moaticus was he heard the scream as the wrath fell to the ground. Gar-ten started to run forward but felt something tugging at the back of his mind. He stumbled as he looked back toward Malthag, the wolf wasn’t moving. He was just standing there with his heckles up growling the wrath. By the time Gar-ten looked back to Moaticus the wrath was gone. As he rushed over to see what had happened he didn’t even notice the women till he was standing beside Moaticus. Malthag sniffed the ground tentatively where the wrath had been but finding nothing placed himself between Moaticus and the women. Moaticus could see the questions behind Gar-ten’s eye; inwardly he was thankful when Gar-ten didn’t ask. Seeing that Moaticus suffered no physical harm, Gar-ten turned his attentions to the women before him.
Returning to his usual friendly manner he said to the woman. “I am sorry for this morning’s disturbance, if not for that, we may have been able to give you a more proper welcome.” Moaticus could sense that Gar-ten was still uptight and watchful. But the way he leaned up against his battle axe with his left hand portrayed complete calm. It was the wolf that gave it away, Moaticus knew that the two could speak through the mind almost as well if not better than people could with words. Malthag was still sniffing the air tentatively and peering into every shadow. Reaching out with his mind Gar-ten called Malthag back to his side. Putting his right fist to his chest he gave a small bow, yet keeping his left hand on his axe and his eye in the woman. “I am called Gar-ten the wanderer, and this is Moaticus.” He said gesturing to the drow that stood just behind and to the right of him. Looking the women in the eye he asked, not unkindly. “Who might you be?”
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Post by Icor on Jun 27, 2005 2:22:03 GMT -4
The drow was slow to do much of anything. The female wasn’t exactly close, and Moaticus gazed toward her yet again, having an expression of simple carelessness. He smiled in a way that wasn’t happy, and his eyes were wide in a way that wasn’t fear or surprise. It was bland and monotone, at best. Soon, Moa’ leaned out away from the tree and turned to observe it. The holes from which the beast’s two blades stabbed the tree were no longer there, yet he was showing little sign of paranoia. While Gar-Ten introduced himself, Moaticus turned to look at his friend, correcting him in a pitiable voice.
“Durst. Call me Durst”, he said plainly, his tone very sound and almost without emotion entirely.
He also took the liberty to whisper a question to Gar-Ten after he’d asked the woman’s name, though his tone, again, barely had any emotion in it. He was acting rather dry, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected.
“She’s the one who’s been following us, friend?”
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 27, 2005 7:55:55 GMT -4
Keeping his eye on the woman he turned his head toward the drow. “Yes she was following us, and she is good at it too” Moaticus could hear the admiration his voice. Gar-ten was one who took pride in what he was good at, but he was never prideful enough to not give someone their due. Even when facing an enemy he could see what they where good at and give them credit for it. Unlike most humans he didn’t let hate or anger cloud his judgment of another. On the average anyway, he is human after all. Turning back to the women he continued to smile as if everything was normal. Reaching out with his mind he told the wolf to scout the area and make sure there wasn’t going to be any other surprises this day. The direwolf stood for a moment and looked at the woman, then bounded away into the woods.
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Post by Nymiane on Jun 27, 2005 12:02:12 GMT -4
Breena’s eyes ran along the wood’s floor, the leaves shifted slightly, her ears caught hold of the sound of heavy breathing and soon her eyes followed the sound, pin pointing the figure. Her right foot cross stepped behind her, the grip upon the sword loosening some. The stance she took next was not threatening, but ready, ready to fight if need be. She didn’t know who these people were, even though they looked as dazed and confused as she did, paranoia was always good to have in these cases.
A slight smile caused her lips to twitch, her gaze following the lupine, dedicated, was a word that was brought to her mind, as well as loyalty. The bulky figure she had seen in the distance was now beside her and her beryl eyes followed the voice, her face softening, and her stance growing less threatening, or paranoid. Soon she slid her blade back into it’s scabbard, her stance becoming something lax.
She nodded to what he had to say, her hand drawing up towards her face to flick a stray piece of hair from it. Her voice left her mouth.
“You may call me Breeze.”
She said simply. Her eyes slowly turning towards the figure she had seen earlier, Durst? She nodded again, her left shoulder propping up against a tree behind her, arms folding in front of her.
“You need not to worry, if I was going to do anything, I would have done it by now.”
A chuckle escaped her as she lowered her head, eyes locked upon the two.
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Post by Icor on Jun 27, 2005 18:30:22 GMT -4
Moa’s expression, along with the rest of his visage, slowly became more and more relaxed. The beast was gone. Even the fear of it had strangely vanished as well, and the Drow had straightened his posture totally, though still hadn’t stood any taller than Gar-Ten. His face was greatly shadowed by his hood at this point, and very little sunlight was showing due to the mass of clouds that swept in.
Having appropriately met Breeze, he narrowed his eyes a little, dimming their red glow.
“Gentle Breeze” Moa’ huffed respectfully, “Callaghan is it? How fortunate, we are.”
Durst’s voice was scratchy, and his diction was utterly slurred and lazy, though his words could be well heard in the small space between the three. Not only did it wheeze, but it was deep, and his vocal cords bent in barely any vibration at all. Moa’ turned quickly to look back through the forest, his long, flat tunic ruffling lightly. A humid wind began to stir the trees. He turned back to the woman again, and leaned into one leg more heavily.
“Breeze, me and Gar-Ten are going to Eurothra. There is a town to its east with an Alchemist’s Guild. We need to reach it without running into Checkpoints or Gray Guards.”
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 27, 2005 21:13:36 GMT -4
Gar-ten took the time he had to secure his pack and axe in their places. Looking up to the sky he felt the cool morning breeze against his skin, cool and thrilling. The sun was now high over the horizon, only a few hours from noon. With his mind he took a second to look through the eyes of Malthag. He was running through the forest, there were three men on horseback along the northern road, two on smaller garrons and one on a destrier. They where dressed in black on black horses, Gar-ten made a mental note of it but said nothing to the others. Other than that there was little to see in the woods and nothing smelt out of place.
Looking to Callaghan he said, “Callaghan, the Gentle Breeze, the name fits you.” He said with a slight smile, having no idea who she really was, seeing that for the last three years he avoided people as much as possible. Twisting himself to the side so he could see Moaticus and Callaghan at the same time. He said to Callaghan, “How is it that he knew your name?” At that both Callaghan and Moaticus gave him a surprised look, although Callaghan’s was more along the lines of disappointment.
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Post by Nymiane on Jun 27, 2005 21:29:21 GMT -4
Breena’s head arose once more, her eyes locked upon the two, however she was more focused on the shrouded one, her interest piqued for the moment. She watched his breathing, his posture and noted some things about him, things that perhaps would be of use to her. Still, she had yet to see his face, more added up. The light was shining through the trees fairly brightly, (at least it was earlier.) He was nimble and quick within the wood, as was she. Most definitely, he is indeed a Drow. She thought, smirking at her findings.
As the masked man spoke, her smirk grew all the wider and with an arrogant move, she bowed before the pair, her eyes flickering.
“It is, Indeed. Fortunate, I doubt this.”
Another titter came from her and it slowly faded into the woods and on the gust, her eyes were very curious as she watched the antics of the unknown. What was he looking for? Or what was he hiding from? The woman quirked a brow and chewed upon her bottom lip, none of her business, unless she was in harms way, then it was most certainly hers.
“Hrm. Sounds boring, if you need help..”
Breena’s voice trailed off, her attention being drawn towards the other. A genuine smile transformed her face from arrogant to soft and gentle. Indeed she was surprised, and slightly disappointed, but not to the point she was offended. Sure, there were some people out there who had never heard of her, the mountaineers.
“With all do respect, sir. How have you not?”
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 27, 2005 22:49:32 GMT -4
“When one has spent the last three years seeking the future, ever on the move, never sleeping in the same place two nights in a row one finds oneself, lacking up to date information.” He said looking Callaghan in the face. In that moment the face of his wife flashed back to his mind, for so many years he had run from that face and tried to put his past behind him. Yet looking into Callaghan’s eyes he couldn’t help but see his wife’s strength in them. Callaghan noticed that his face softened, what was once a friendly smile on a stone carving now turned to flesh and blood, with hints of worry and concern, and something deeper. But as soon as she saw it, he closed his eyes and looked down. He quickly looked back up and his face was stone once more, even the friendly smile was gone, replaced by a look of grim determination. As he turned away she thought she saw a tear running down his cheek but she couldn’t be sure because it just started to rain. Looking to the other two Gar-ten said, “Malthag has found a dry spot, we better get moving before it gets too wet to start a fire.” With those words he started running through the forest at an easy gate, moving through the dense woods with the grace of a deer.
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Post by Icor on Jun 28, 2005 15:34:12 GMT -4
Moa’stood near the same tree all the while, his gaze shifting frequently from three different points: the woman, Gar-Ten, and the path ahead (Or rather behind him, as to look at it, he was forced to turn almost completely around). Listening to Breena speak was strangely refreshing for Durst; anyone could see his pale grin from under the hood, despite even what it was she said. She was certainly from the south. As she bowed, he bowed only his head, but his smaller gesture was in no way a less-powerful form of communication or more specifically, greeting.
“Fortunate, Gentle Breeze, that we have not made you a foe through rash actions” uttered the drow again, in his typical, almost sleazy fashion.
However dark or vague Moa’s voice may have sounded, his movements were quick and apparently healthy. He, at once, drew back his hood to reveal his face and pulled the letter, along with the jewel, from a pocket by his chest. He extended his curved, long fingers with the pair lightly secured in them toward Breena for her to observe, or take at her will. He didn’t entirely detect what Breena’s expressions meant, but he assumed showing his complexion would ease any discomfort (Or curiosity on the other hand) present somewhat.
“These are the primary culprits in my wandering. Far be it from me, however, to venture away from what I call home by a stranger’s will completely, whatever amount of guile he may have”, he spoke again, his voice sandy and seemingly about to fail at any moment, “I have business besides claiming half of Eren’Cul these following years, none of which include dying.”
Durst looked at the sky briefly. Rain began to patter down through the trees, causing each leaf to cry out its own sound as it was struck. The forest became an orchestra of noise, and the clouds began to pour down heavily.
“If you are to come, we best do so now. Gar-Ten has already ran ahead”, Durst persuaded.
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Post by Nymiane on Jun 29, 2005 11:39:17 GMT -4
Breena quirked a brow, her fingers stroking the skin under her chin, her eyes fixated upon the massive figure. Through the years she had made an art out of reading people, for it was needed very much in battles. A lost one, she thought to herself. It was a good reason to run from things, and to settle in one place was to keep yourself unoccupied, which meant time to think. How she knew, well, she had been down that road before. A sigh passed over her lips as she watched Gar-Ten sprint away, her fingers drawing away from her milky skin.
Soon the woman’s interest was turned to Durst, a smirk drawing her lips upwards as she caught sight of the grin. She nodded her head towards the bowed head, her smirk transforming into a faded smile.
“Although, I could have sworn your companion was about to.”
As the voice left her mouth, her eyes shifted towards the fading figure, a chuckle emitting from her. Breena’s eyes shot back towards Durst, her eyes held no surprise, nor did her face, just a faded smile. Of course, she was right. Over the years she had come to know many races, she had studied them and with them, it was something she had enjoyed, thoroughly. Long sturdy legs carried her towards the Drow, her delicate fingers touching the letter, the paper slipping between her fingers, then she brought it to her visage, inspecting it.
“A man never dies unless he is ready to, or unless the Goddess beckons for your soul.”
She flipped the letter over, having seen one like it she had no need to study it for long. Fingers slipped up through her hair and pulled upon a leather string, allowing her auburn hair to cascade down her back and slip over her shoulders. The rain began to dampen her hair, causing her locks to curl slightly. The leaves snapped and shifted as the rain began to drench them, the woman’s beryl eyes shifted towards the speaking one and she nodded, replying.
“I have my own questions to be answered, and I am sure they shall be answered, very soon.”
With that she shifted and began after Gar-Ten.
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 29, 2005 16:27:42 GMT -4
When Gar-ten glanced back he saw that they both where following at a distance but they where keeping pace. Slowing down he waved at them and motioned to a small thicket, then he entered himself. On the other side of the thicket where he felt Malthag he was surprised to see a wayward pine. This was the farthest south he had ever seen one. They are tall evergreens; the branches start high up in the trunk but slope down till they touch the ground, providing almost enough room for a grown man to stand up. And the needles only grow on the outer sections of the branch making the inside hollow, the needles also grow so thick that the inside will remain dry even when it is pouring out. Because of the type of sap the tree was fire-resistant, as long as one is careful. The tree stood in the middle of a small grove. As Gar-ten moved toward the tree some of the branches moved and Malthag came out.
Gar-ten quickly went in and grabbed a few dead branched and started a small fire. He untied the leather thong that held his hair back so it would dry faster. Quickly taking off his pack and axe he leaned them against the tree trunk, and pushed some of the braches to the side and waited for the others. Running through his mind what they would talk about when they got there, he was hoping that none would bring up any ones past. After what happened just before that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with.
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Post by Icor on Jun 29, 2005 17:39:32 GMT -4
Moa’s smile was barely any expression of appreciation, though he expected Breena would detect it, however subtle it may have been. Durst’s eyes had lost their glow at this point, for no hood shadowed his face. He was still, and without his previous trembling. The rain was cool, but it wasn’t the cold that made him shiver – it’s what made him focused.
Having successfully offered the letter to the woman, he lowered his arm again, and the sleeve of his tunic absorbed his paler fingers. He watched Breena with vague caution, and his mouth regained a typical, neutral frown while she spoke words of the Goddess, and specifically death. His feelings could be seen through the bleakness of his expression, and they were as cold as the rain.
Lastly, as he took the rain-spotted letter back from her, he scoffed in a nigh-soundless exhale. His chin dipped, and he folded the elegant parchment up slowly, it with its jewel, and put it back in the same pouch it came from. The whole, short time they spoke, Durst was proficient in making eye-contact with the one he both spoke and harkened to. Her every move he recorded, and her every tone he studied.
-=-
Moaticus turned, and his body was heavy with its armor and slightly damp fabric surrounding it. He followed behind the woman with much less urgency as he did run from her, spotting the wall of trees and pine surrounding their next camp-sight. His steps were unharmonious and heavy. His pacing could be heard long before he reached the thicket, and while he pushed through, his broad shoulders clattered and the sounds of chains echoed off the trees. Because of the architecture of the trees, the small area created a canopy, flushing the rain off to the sides. Moa’ began to pull his armor off slowly, and quite alarmingly quietly. Soon the Drow wore no more than a tight tunic around his torso, and darkly plated leggings. His shoulders were broad, but his torso was not portly. He had more definition than he did size – Gar-Ten was much larger than he was, but in no way dwarfed him. The tunic secluded his chest from the eyes of others, and revealed only his wirey limbs.
Durst had the letter in his hand. He opened it slowly, paying no heed to Breeze or his friend for a long while, staring as if dead into the words of his mysterious note. His back touched a tree, and he sat slowly, one leg flat on its side, and the other upright in an arch with its knee bent at a perfect, ninety-degree angle.
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Molkreig
Noble
Mastermind of Foreordination
Above image is not actual size
Posts: 57
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Post by Molkreig on Jun 30, 2005 2:53:01 GMT -4
The sound of cracking branches and other indications of movement filled the air. It became quite obvious that something very clumsy was stumbling its way though the forest. If anyone at all, Malthag would certainly identify the sounds of an approaching threat. The source of all this racket was a lone skeleton, trudging its way thought the soaked woods his slim skeleton body swaying back and forth dodging trees as he slowly closed in on the source of muffled voices. His skull rattled about droplets of rain shatterd on his bony form, his master’s orders bouncing through in the nexus of thought occupying his head. “Find the source of this letter, kill him. Steal his wealth and bring it to me. Make haste, and exploit all opportunity.” This was all he was told, and so far that is all that has been his thoughts. The first thing of note that it passed was the two trees near where Moaticus nearly had his head split in two. The sound of a lit fire and more movement drew him closer and closer to his new targets.
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 30, 2005 12:57:59 GMT -4
The rain had gotten heavier and turned into a full blown thunderstorm. The cloud cover was so thick it was dark as night, even thought it could only have been an hour at most past noon. Malthag heard it first, something moving through the forests. It didn’t smell human, or like anything he had ever encountered before. Soon the sound of the thing moving through the forest was only dimmed by the sound of the thunder. Gar-ten had to restrain Malthag mentally, he wanted nothing more than to go find out what was out there, but whatever it was smelt unnatural. Gar-ten emptied the water from his canteen onto the fire, and kicked some dirt on top of the ashes. It was pitch-dark inside the tree save the faint glow when there was a bold of lighting. With his hair wet and loose Gar-ten looked even more threatening, what civility you could see in him with his hair tied back was gone now, his dark wet hair tumbling down across his shoulders, all tangled and wavy. Grabbing his axe from where he placed it next to the tree he looked at the others in the darkness. He could easily place Durst by the glow of his eyes, and the pail skin of Callaghan shown with a faint almost luminescent quality in the darkness. In the darkness he wanted little more than to reach out and touch her face but he quickly turned his back to them both hoping that it was dark enough that she would be unable to see his face.
Pushing some of the branches aside he said, without looking back. “I’m going out there to see what is making that noise. Stay or come, the choice is yours, but whatever is out there” he paused as if uncertain, “never in my life have I smelt something like this” (He often referred to his owns senses and that of Malthag’s as one) With Malthag at his side he stepped out into the rain and let the branches close behind him, part of him wanted them both to stay yet another part wanted them both to come. These where the first people he had constant contact with for over three years. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be with people. Peering off into the darkness he, with axe in hand, started to move toward the source of the sound.
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Post by Icor on Jun 30, 2005 15:37:04 GMT -4
Durst didn’t move from where he sat. With the fire out, it grew colder. His lack of proper clothing for such weather couldn’t have helped any as for obtaining warmth, though the Drow never showed signs of trembling because of it. He let his head lay back heavily into the trunk of the smaller tree, and closed his eyes, taking long, luxurious breaths which could be heard scratching the rainy ambience. He rested his forearms on his knees as both his legs arched, and he made himself comfortable for possibly the first time in the last three weeks.
He didn’t remain entranced for long, however. Though he didn’t hear any sound save his own hoarse breathing and the sound of the rain ravaging the earth, he trusted Malthag’s senses enough to pay heed to Gar-Ten’s interpretation of them. As Gar-Ten rose to venture out, Durst quickly lifted a hand.
“Wait” he said, damaging the soothing white-noise with his bellowing vociferation, “Let it come to us”. Moaticus’ voice sounded almost angry, but then again, it was always hard to tell. Durst’s voice rarely changed in pitch, never for emotion nor for diction.
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Post by lordhebdar on Jun 30, 2005 16:43:35 GMT -4
Gar-ten paused; rarely did Durst raise his voice like that. Standing at the edge of the clearing he could see movement out in the darkness whenever there was a bold of lighting but it was never long enough to see what it was. He could feel Malthag in the back of his mind almost pushing him forward with the urgency he felt. Suppressing the urgency he felt from Malthag, he in turn forced his calm upon the wolf, backing away slowly from the woods be never turned his back to them. Walking backwards until his back was only foot or two away from the branches of the wayward pine. He took his axe that he held in both hand and spun it from his left to his right, then mid-spin put it behind him and spun it from his right to left, then he took it and planted the base in the soft ground, all in one smooth motion. Standing there in his wolf skin cloak and long wet hair, now clinging to his face, unmoving, like a stone monument to some great warrior of old, his wolf beside him, almost the size of a small pony. He closed his eye as they did him little use and the darkness and used Malthag’s ears. Listening to every sound in the woods, there where no animals to be heard as there should be, instead the only sound he could hear where that of the two behind him breathing, that of himself and Malthag, and the movement from just beyond the thicket, no breathing, just movement.
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