|
Post by Vicorva on Jul 23, 2008 8:57:27 GMT
OOC: Lol, the Murry post was so cliched. Semira had felt a rush of gratitude as a stranger ran up and replenished her spell, raising her enough to let her keep running. They were almost far enough, now... surely they would soon be out of reach of the tentacles... But there was a huge *CRASH* behind them as bit of debris exploded into the air and the last of the ship was destroyed. There was a a wave, knocking Semira off her feet and causing her to fall into the water, sinking lower and lower, surrounded by blackness... She swam as strongly as she could- but one of her legs was devoid of strength. She began to panic. SHe could breathe, but if she got stuck at the bottom of the ocean, that would soon change. She grabbed a hold of the rope tied to her waist, and, arm muscles screaming in protest, heaved herself up it, toward the raft on the surface. She dragged herself half onto it before her strength gave way entirely to exhaustion. She was out cold before the tentacles even came, her legs still immersed in the ocean, the droplets of water clinging to her making her seem even more bejeweled.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Jul 23, 2008 9:23:00 GMT
OOC: Cliche indeed. But I liked it. IC: Perur felt the paralysis leave his body, but he dared not move. He laid perfectly still anyway, his heart still beating a mile a second. In his heart, he felt that if he moved, if he even twitched the wrong way, that he would topple off of the raft that he was on, and end up in the water below, the water that Semira was trying to pull him through, at the cost of her own stamina. Normally, he would be grateful, but right now, he was freaking out, sure that the Kraken would reach up at any time to pull him under, to rip him off of that raft and into the icy depths. Ironically, instead of him ending up going underneath the water, it was Semira. As he watched helplessly, a wave from the debris of the ship being destroyed sent Semira down, and under the water, vanishing beneath its glimmering, eerily deceptive surface. Perur finally moved then, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, and looking fearfully down into the water. There was no sign of her, he couldn't see down into the water... "S... Semira...?" He asked fearfully, though he didn't want to even APPROACH the side of the raft. However, the only thing worse than being on a raft in the middle of the ocean... was being ALONE on a raft in the middle of the ocean. He began to fear for her, when all of a sudden she burst from the water like a breaching shark, yanking herself up onto the raft halfway. Perur, already frightened, gave a yelp of fear, and nearly tumbled off of the other side of the raft. However, his desire to remain out of the water caused him to stay on the raft, desperately pulling himself forward again. "Semira!" He said, as he bent over the unconscious woman. She appeared to be alright, but she wouldn't be if that Kraken got a hold of her. Neither would he, actually, since he was TIED to her. With a heave, he set his arms underneath her shoulders, pulling her the rest of the way onto the raft. He wasn't going to let her die, especially not when his fate was linked to hers. "You'll be..." He began to say to the unconscious woman, only to be taken by surprise by a tentacle that suddenly exploded from the water. Perur's fearful gaze snapped up, but he barely even had time to react as it came across, slapping him hard across the face. Darkness encroached upon his vision from the hard blow, as he reeled backwards, but the impact of his head against the raft was what finished it off. Through fading vision, he saw that he had at the least managed to get Semira onto the raft. She was now lying just across Perur's legs, ensuring that she wouldn't get washed off into the sea. But that brief thought was the last he had, before the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him.
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Jul 24, 2008 1:29:31 GMT
OOC: Cliche or no, I felt it was good. PMs are going out now.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Jul 24, 2008 1:58:49 GMT
The water was bone-chillingly cold, sucking the air from his lungs. Everywhere, all encompassing and smothering. Perur opened his mouth to scream, but it only caused water to empty into his throat, choking him.
And yet, he could not drown. Could not die, as the water rushed down his trachea and into his lungs, trickling into them and filling in the space reserved for air and only air. The world around him was dark, but light filtered through the surface and glimmered through the water. Perur looked up to see the sun above him, the surface so close.
“Swim or drown, boy!” Called out a malicious voice, sadistic laughter in the tone. Perur moved sluggishly in the water, straining to find the source of the voice. “Swim or drown!” The voice cackled again.
A form moved in the dark water, coming up to Perur elegantly. It was made of water, and beneath the waves it looked like a man under the effects of a chameleon spell. Sunlight reflecting about it, revealing a human form and a face that looked familiar.
The figure cackled as Perur felt more water fill his lungs, and he began to kick desperately for the surface. That face took on a physical form, and became that of his father.
“If you are weak you will die!” It sneered, and grabbed at Perur’s ankles as he fought to reach the surface, to expel the water from his lungs, to breathe. The world turned fuzzy as lack of oxygen took its toll, before becoming inky blackness.
Perur's top half snapped upright, the assassin coughing and hacking violently. From within his mouth, his lungs, came a small amount of sal[censored]er, splashing down his front as he bent himself double, trying to get it all out. Drowning! He was drowning, he was going to die, he was...
He was alright? Slowly, he looked up from where he was sitting, his lips partially open as he took deep breaths, trying to forget the bitter taste of sal[censored]er in his mouth. Where was he? His head hurt so much, it made his vision swim... At the least he was in the shade for some reason, he didn't think that he could handle the brightness of the sun. Had he seen that blazing orb, he swore that he would have ended up blind, that his eyes would have been burnt from his head by the heat of the rays.
But, it still offered him enough light to get a GOOD look around him. All around him, there were bodies. They were of all races, of all origins, their bodies bloated and distorted by the water that they had come from. With Perur already dizzy, the smell that wafted from them on the sea breeze was enough to cause him to get nauseous, rolling over to vomit onto the pristine sands beneath him. Or at least, try to vomit, though he couldn't actually manage it. Still, he remained on his stomach, half up on his knees and half appearing to be trying to do a push-up, as he retched and coughed towards the sand beneath him.
After a few moments, when it was obvious that Perur wasn't going to throw up, he shakily pushed himself up, using a small piece of wooden debris that was scattered around him as a support. As his bleary vision focused around him, he saw that it was the same story for pretty much all the beach around him. Everywhere that he looked there was debris, or there was a dead body... His raft must have broken somehow on the way to... wherever he was. But,, somehow, Perur had survived. He was alive.
He ignored the bodies that floated and bobbed in the tide, towards his left. There, he saw what was casting the shade that he was in. There was a tall cliff, yawning and sheer, with jutting and angular black rocks everywhere, as though someone had taken a giant chunk of earth and just snapped it in two, before slamming it roughly into the earth to form a mountain. Perur laughed softly, though it made his throat hurt. His entire throat burned, actually, from the sal[censored]er that had been in it. He was so thirsty...
He licked his cracked and dried lips with a tongue that was just as dry, only succeeding in giving them a small massage rather than wetting them down. He needed to find something to drink, some source of water... otherwise, he would die on this island.
Slowly, he turned in place, looking amongst the dead bodies for any sign of a survivor. "Hello?" He croaked, though his voice wasn't very loud. It sounded like a frog had been given a voice. "Is... Is anyone alive, but me...?" He asked the silent corpses, using the long piece of wood as a cane.
OOC: Perur's at Orange Landing.
|
|
|
Post by Vrek on Jul 24, 2008 6:25:22 GMT
The pain in his leg was constant, never-ending and blinding. All Jacin could think about was that pain, all consuming and terrible.
The sun peaked through the canopy of the forest to shine into the Imga grave he had fallen into, a beacon of light beckoning him, revealing freedom from the grave’s grasp. But with a broken leg he could not make the crawl out. So he screamed.
Screamed for help, for father, for mother, for Y’ffre to take him. Anything. But no one answered minus the birds in the trees.
The coffin beneath him shuddered, and the young Bosmer whirled his head around to see it shaking. Grunting cackles rang out from above, and he looked up hurriedly to see the ape-like Imga. Four of them holding shovels.
Two rotted, bony arms burst from the wooden coffin, stretching their fingers on either side of him. Jacin screamed, but no one heard as dirt hit his head from above. They were burying him alive! He tried to scoot back, away from those arms, but the pain in his leg proved too much. The arms snapped to attention at his movement, and wrapped around him in a nightmarish twisted hug.
Wood groaned and snapped as the grip grew tighter, and the arms seemed to be pulling through the wood of the coffin as the Imga above laughed and howled, continuing to toss dirt upon the screaming bosmer boy.
Jacin gasped, his eyes shooting open, greeted by the blazing sun above him. He tried sitting up, his arms heavy. Almost curious he looked down at his arms and saw two large ape-like hands still gripping him. His eyes widened with a sudden surge of fear as he yanked his arms free, then pushed himself away, further up the beach.
He dropped, then, suddenly exhausted and broken from a migraine. He lay there, entirely inert for a few moments, except by coughs and sputterings, expelling water from his lungs, followed by whispered prayers that the Imga would not raise out of the sand. He stay like this for several more minutes, his eyes clenched shut.
Eventually, he worked up the courage to look back at the dead hands. He saw none. Instead was a slab of wooden debris, atop it, on either side, was a few strands of seaweed, and Jacin's own quiver. No hands, no coffin, no Imga, no grave. Relief flooded over him as he realized his mistake, brought on by just fear. Slowly, the theif managed to push himself onto his feet and stumbled over to his forgotten quiver.
The movement caused a new surge of blood through his system, revitalizing his headache. He doubled over, clutching his head. A few more minutes passed before he finally lowered his hand, which was covered with a sleek red sheen. He rose his other hand and dabbed his forehead, and brought it in front of his eyes. More blood covered his fingertips. His head was bleeding, he was stranded on some... place. He picked up his quiver, groaning when he saw it's contents. Most of his arrows were lost, much of it metal arrows were gone, with the majority of the meager number bone. He checked his own person more thoroughly. His bow was still strung across his chest, and his grappling hook was still hanging from his belt, though he worried about the water rotting the rope. Atleast he was all here.
Where was here, anyways? For the first time, he truly took a look around. The slab of wood he was sitting on: That explained something. The coffin from the dream: Imga didn't use coffins for when they buried their dead. They idolized and mimicked Bosmer, and would follow the Green Pact. Jacin shuddered when he remembered how surreal the nightmare felt. A rush of tide water came in, and slowly pulled the debris out to sea. He wouldn't regret seeing that memory flow away.
The Bosmer turned, and took in the rest of this new land. To his left, he immediately saw a large dark cliff jutting out of the land, one side leading into a torn stretch of battered cliff along the ocean. He had enough good fortune to watch a larger shred of debris smash against the cliffside to even more pieces. There wouldn't be any swimming across to the other side of those. And he didn't fancy climbing up the sheer wall. Further into the island, however the rock wall became hidden by lush jungle. His real goal would have to be straight past the wall, towards the mountain claiming that part of the island. From there he might be able to see any settlements, or side place closest to the mainland. To the Bosmer's right, as far as he could see, was endless beach bordered by the thick jungle. Not the most ideal place to be: Foreign life was always dangerous life to the unwary. However, a nervous tug forced his to realize something. The place with the thickest life would be the most likely place to find fresh water.
He stumbled towards his left, to follow the rockwall into the jungle.
OOC: Huh, this looks a lot longer then it sounded in my head.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Jul 24, 2008 9:36:24 GMT
OOC: I don't know how to describe the emotions effectively when I have to leave the nightmare intact. Afterall, she feels it as it happens, not as a reaction to the dream as a whole. This post will likely suck. But it may be my last post here for a while. Semira looked around, confused. She no longer felt tired, no longer felt pain in her leg. She just felt a little woozy from the rocking of the small raft. Perur lay there, unconscious next to her. The sea around them was calm once more, the kraken gone.
And then lightning flashed through the sky, the peel of thunder all she could sense as white light blinded her vision. Blinking fervently to restore her sight, she found herself still on a raft, still with Perur. But not on an ocean.
A sea of fire surrounded the small craft, crackling and burning the air around her. Everywhere she looked the fire burned. The air became hot and heavy, stuffy and smoky. Breathing became difficult, and Semira wheezed with each breath, falling to her knees in front of Perur.
The raft itself gave in, finally catching fire on the edges. It crawled closer and closer to the two, making their raft smaller and smaller. Breathing became even harder, and Semira began to cough uncontrollably. There was nowhere to run, the fire was everywhere.
“I killed your brother…” Snarled a voice from somewhere nearby, sounding harsh and grating, as if their throat was lined with ash. She looked around for the source, to find Perur rising to his knees and hanging his head low. His skin looked burnt and blackened.
When he raised his head to look at her, though, it was not Perur’s face. A sadistic snarl curled around those dark lips, and powerful tattoos glowed dark red on his cheeks. Two horns curled and weaved wickedly through the air from his forehead, and dark red eyes glared at Semira hungrily. “And now I will kill you…” The Dremora cackled, before lunging at her.Fire... so much fire... she thought feverishly. Her eyes were wide open, but still all she could see was the dremora, flames all around, reaching for her... she would die, she would die, her brother was dead, everything was wrong- She screamed, sitting up straight. SHe looked around. The fire had vanished, as had the dremora. SHe was alone. She struggled to her feet, and took a limping step towards the island. Dead bodies were all around her. The splintered shards of the raft were at her feet. Seeing the bodies there, she found she wasn't disgusted. She'd seen a lot of death, afterall. But... she took a kind of sick amusement from the way they were strewn about, limbs at awkward angles, lying there like broken toys. THat's all they are... toys... she thought, and laughter threatened. She shook her head, horrified at herself. Was she going mad, like her mother? Her red hair had come free of it's stule, and hung loose around her shoulders now, glistening with wet. She needed to do something- anything. Anything was better than sitting around with only herself for company. She scared herself. She limped on, heading for the jungle.
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Jul 24, 2008 13:34:51 GMT
OOC: You could have edited the dream itself with the reactions, so long as what occurred in the dream remained intact. Good post anyways. I will take care of Semira in your absence.
IC: The jungle ahead was thick and shadowed. Birds chirped and sang, and bugs responded in kind, but all that could be seen was darkness. Semira limped towards this dark, dense foliage, only to stop when something moved in those bushes.
Whatever it was also stopped moving, and Semira felt eyes upon her. Shuddering, she brought her hand towards her sword. Whatever it was moved again, coming closer.
A man stalked out of the bush, crouching as he went. His body was tanned and heavily scared, as well as lightly clothed. Only a loincloth of tiger skin and a vest covered his body. Wild sea blue eyes stared at Semira beneath an awning of ragged black hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore an expression of intrigue and curiosity, mouth a tight line under a fuzzy mustache and wild beard.
He didn't look hostile, but more cautious, holding his stone-tip spear by the oak shaft towards the Dunmeri woman in a defensive manner. A vine was wrapped around his waist and held a stone axe at his hip as well, but he didn't seem eager to use it.
"Um... hello?"
The man moved towards her on all fours, kicking up sand as he moved, and sniffed the air near her with a broken nose. She could imagine the nose once being noble and strong before it was broken, and saw some strong Imperial qualities to the man's face from this closer view.
"Sparkle-woman... elf. Sparkle-elf-woman." The man muttered, tilting his head from side to side as he looked at her. He began to circle her in the sand, looking her up and down. It was a curious inspection, as if he had never seen the likes of her before. He likely hadn't. Extending his legs he rose to full height, knees cracking, at five feet and seven inches tall. With no regard for personal space or mannerism, he tapped her horns with his knuckles.
"Horned-lady." Semira rose one eyebrow at the man, stepping away.
"My name is Semira."
"Sim-er-ah." The Imperial replied slowly.
"No, Sem-ir-ah."
"Sem-ir-ah." The man repeated, smiling. "Horned-sparkle-elf-lady-woman-Semira." Then the smile fell and his eyes seemed to focus on something in the distance, over Semira's shoulder. For a moment she saw a flicker of keen intelligence in those eyes.
And then the man bolted off, running down the beach towards the northern of the two bay cliffs. Semira watched him go, and then saw what attracted him; a figure moving in the distance.
The man jumped onto a large chuck of ship wreckage, transferring his primitive spear to his left hand in midair and holding onto the wreckage with his right to balance himself. Crouching on it, he watched the figure.
"Survivor." The man remarked calmly, watching the figure.
Tag: Webster.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Jul 24, 2008 15:21:12 GMT
Perur slowly turned in place, panting softly as he braced the chunk of wood into the ground, leaning all his weight on his left side. There had been no answer, nothing from the tide of dead bodies that surrounded him. Was he alone? Had he been the only one to survive that ship wreck? What about Semira, that woman that had fought so hard to save his life and apparently succeeded? What about all the other crew members of that ship? There had been so many people... were they all dead?
When he looked at the dead bodies that surrounded him... He suddenly felt a cold, cold feeling in his heart that yes, that was precisely what had happened. Everyone was dead. Everyone that was on those ships, and only he was here, on this damned island, to wander around until he too, was dead. Until he collapsed from whatever, be it the wound on his side that would gradually bleed him out if he didn't get it treated, be it from thirst, hunger, or simply from going mad here...
He swallowed the dark despair that had begun to creep up in his heart, before focusing his gaze further down the beach. There was a large chunk of ship there... Perhaps there was a canteen or something inside of it, maybe it contained part of the crew's quarters or something, that he could find something to drink from. Just some rum, ale, whatever, something, water in a bottle would do it. He was so thirsty...
He took a single step towards the ship, when all of a sudden someone bounded on top of the chunk of ship, right hand coming down to grip the side of it fluidly. With a yell of shock, Perur started, ending up having the piece of wood slip in the sand. He tumbled backwards, landing hard on his back, though the softness of the sand made the landing easier somewhat. It didn't make it easier for the wound, however, as sand clumped into it, causing an intense burning that caused Perur to grit his teeth in pain just to keep from screaming.
That was when he noticed that the other hand of the figure held a long spear. Fright appeared in Perur's mind again, as he frantically looked about, for any sort of a weapon. He was defenseless! And from the frog-like way the guy had leaped up there, Perur doubted that he was in his right mind. He had to find something, had to find something to keep the man away with... He wasn't going to die here!
Spying one of the bodies next to him, one of the unfortunate sailors that had perished on the boat, Perur leaned over, grabbing the man's saber out of its sheathe. With a half roll, half pull, he yanked it out of its sheathe, holding the sword up with one trembling hand. "You stay away from me..." He croaked, trying to scramble backwards over the sand. It was slow work, as the sand was loosely packed, and instead of moving he simply ended up kicking a fan of sand everywhere.
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 24, 2008 18:48:49 GMT
The water was so cold… so deathly cold. Above him shined the sun, streaming through the cloudy water to bask him in a hint of warmth. But below…
Below was an infinite abyss of inky blackness, a never-ending landscape of darkness and death, holding more secrets than Aldarilon cared to discover. He felt as though all of Mundus was pressing in around him. Forcing himself to look towards the surface he kicked and swam, trying to break through and breathe.
But no matter how hard he kicked, no matter how much effort he poured into escaping this living hell, he could not ascend. Something was holding him back. Aldarilon looked back down to the darkness to find his legs wrapped by two long, thin tentacles, dragging him to the sea floor like chains.
The kraken was coming for him. Desperately trying to escape, Aldarilon found himself pulled deeper into the ocean by the beast, heard a low, rumbling roar, and could hear teeth snapping. He opened his eyes and looked towards the sun, only to see a shark swim above him and block out the light. Fear consumed him like a heavy fog, blacking out anything that he knew as comforting or reassuring. His fate was sealed, and there was not a thing he could do about it.
Just as though he was finishing the latter half of a blink, Aldarilon's eyes opened to see blue sky above him, not cloudy water. Immediately he reached to his legs and found not a tentacle, but sand. He blinked. Reaching his hand to the surface beneath him, he also felt fine sand, not the watery silt of the sea floor or whatever surface there was within a Kraken. Suddenly sitting up and looking about wildly, he found that he was indeed not in the water any longer. Even then, it took him a few seconds before he began breathing normally (and relievedly) again.
Putting his hands on the ground, he pushed himself up, staggering into an upright position and looked out in front of him. Jungle? He whirled around and looked behind him. Beach? Around him were what appeared to be bits and pieces of flotsam: parts of the boat, various pieces of tableware or supplies that had been on the ship. He felt around his belt, worried for a moment. Ah! The sword is still there! Remarkably, though tangled with a few pieces of marine vegetation, his scimitar still hung from his belt.
Aldarilon took a deep breath, taking in the landscape around him. While facing the water, to his right there was a cliff, not far from where he stood. To his left, more beach, which seemed to curve inward as it went along. Behind him, a thick jungle, over which loomed what appeared to be a large volcano. The jungle seemed to be the most promising choice.
"Well," he said while exhaling, "no sense standing about, eh old chap?" he asked the upper half of a rather obese Breton's corpse that lay only a few feet away from him. He had been stranded in the wilderness many times before; if there was one thing that he had learned, it was that moving in one direction usually produced some kind of result, which in his case was better than rotting on a beach. With that, he began trudging through the sand towards the forest.
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Jul 25, 2008 1:51:14 GMT
OOC: For those choosing (or having no choice but) to go out on their own instead of with a group, I will be interacting with you as the wildlife of the island. You can choose to gravitate towards other characters and accidentally find them, or continue to go out on your own.
IC: Near Jacin As the Bosmer moved along the rock wall of the cliff, clicking rose in the air. At first it was soft, and then it grew louder and more numerous. Rocks shifted around him, some coming from the wall itself, some from the rock clusters that bordered the wall. Six legs came out from each rock's underbelly, along with twin stalks ending in red, beady eyes. Two large claws spread from under the rock next, and mudcrabs clicked their mandibles all around the tiny bosmer.
They seemed to gather like an army by the dozens, surrounding and staring at him from atop true rocks, the sides of the cliff, and the sand.
Near Aldarilon The obese Breton's body quivered and shuddered, before rising slightly while the Altmer's back was turned. From under it two stalks with beady red eyes peaked out, watching the altmer before popping back under the dead body. The sand around the man shifted.
Sand around a crate followed suit, as two stalk eyes retracted themselves from within the crate. All around the beach the sand was shifting and shuffling softly.
Near Perur. "Survivor?" Semira repeated, crawling a little less animalistically or gracefully onto the wreckage. If she hadn't had a limping leg, it might have been different. But it wasn't. She followed the man's sight to find a figure with a saber in his hand and flinging sand everywhere.
The man said something, but from the yards of beach between them Semira could not make it out. The wildman simply narrowed his blue eyes, regarding the figure with an inquisitive air, head tilted to one side. "Survivor think threat." He muttered, and then leaped down from the wooden wreckage to land with puff of sand on the beach, and creep slowly towards Perur. He walked with a crouch as if it was completely natural to do so, his arms extended at his sides for balance.
Again, like with Semira his spear was held with a defensive poise, the tip towards the ground and arm running parallel with the shaft, to block an attack. Not like the oak would do much against a good sword, but he seemed unaware of this. "Survivor friend." The man announced smoothly.
Semira watched this from the wreckage, and slid herself down to the other side, watching as the wildman began to circle Perur like he had her.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Jul 25, 2008 2:20:14 GMT
Perur, realizing that he wasn't getting anywhere, stopped kicking sand in every direction as the wild man began to approach. Much to Perur's fright, he approached just like a hunter, stalking cautiously forwards, his hands out at his sides as though he were trying to balance on a tight rope, his spear, oaken shaft pointed down towards the ground, looking like... like...
Like it was going to block an attack. Though Perur still was wary, his gaze locked on the man as he approached stating 'Survivor friend' in his broken words. Perur started, his sword blade dropping for a moment, and shock appearing in his eyes. At the least, the guy could speak. If he could speak, that meant that he may be able to tell Perur where he could get water, or maybe have water on his person somewhere. Just where he would hide a canteen or a bottle, Perur REALLY didn't want to think about, but who knew? Slowly, the sabre blade wavered in the air, before lowering down to rest in the sand at his side.
Perur fixed the man with a weary gaze, letting out a hiss of pain as he pushed himself to sit upright. He pressed a sandy hand against his smarting side, though that only ended up making it hurt worse. "Nnngh..." He growled between clenched teeth, looking up at the approaching man. "You... Wouldn't be able to help me, would you?" Perur croaked, as he raised his gaze back to the man hopefully. He was so thirsty...
He didn't even notice Semira standing a ways back, his attention was focused instead on the man right in front of him, and the latest threat, or potential ally.
|
|
|
Post by Vrek on Jul 25, 2008 3:58:01 GMT
Jacin slowed to s stop when he first heard the clicking. From the corner of his eye he saw a few of the stones shift, and suddenly looked to the top of the cliffside, fearing a rockslide, that the clicking may have been stone against stone. Seeing no immediate danger, he looked back down, only to notice about a dozen mudcrabs. Then a dozen more.
Almost curious, he turned around, see even more swarming behind him, along the cliff, with even more coming from each direction, seemingly from nowhere. The snapping soon went from a soft hiss among the world, to an incredible torrent of noise. Silently, he prayed for non-hostility from the small beasts. Even many a commoner felt the small animals were just minor annoyances, but with this great number, they would be able to overwhelm him in no time, not to mention his rather tired state.
But, not running or hiding, as he often done in the past, he calmly lowered himself down, closer to the mudcrab's height. He was a Bosmer, and beasts were his forte. On bent knees, he focused, pushing his tongue further to the back of his throat, a Bosmer natural ability to speak with and understand beasts. The new placement of his tongue allowed him to send out a few clicks, a simple question, "Friend?"
|
|
RavenVW
Novice
I am an agent of chaos. And you know the good thing about chaos? It's fair.
Posts: 45
|
Post by RavenVW on Jul 26, 2008 19:44:03 GMT
“Daddy! I found one!” Rose called out, the eight year old girl running to her father with untold excitement and waving a small green object in her hand. Valkien knelt down with a wide smile, as she approached.
“I found a four-leafed clover!” She cried out, and together they laughed.
“They bring good luck, you know.” Rose remarked factually, rubbing it on the tip of her nose. “Mommy said so. Do you think it will bring me luck?”
For some reason, Valkien was unable to answer. It was as if all the air had been taken from his lungs. Rose stared at him for a moment before the joy on her face fell away.
“Daddy… do you think it will save me?” She asked suddenly. “Would luck heal me?” What was she talking about? She was only eight and in perfect health. She wouldn’t get sick until she was-
There was a flash of lightning that blinded Valkien, and he reflexively put his hand up. Once the light had dimmed, he found himself in a room beside a bed. And in that bed, was an older Rose. But she did not look healthier. She was pale as the sheets around her, hair in straggly strands falling around her tired face. She held a four-leaf clover in her hand, though her grasp was weak.
“Daddy… You lied to me.” She whispered. “You and Mommy told me four leaf clovers bring good luck. How come I can’t get better?” The look she gave him was accusing, but Valkien found himself unable to respond to her. His voice was taken from him. “Why Daddy? I thought you were trying to help me!”
“I thought you were going to make me better! You’re just going to let me die aren’t you?!” She screeched now, and rose from the bed. More like floated, actually, as she slowly rose and the sheets slipped from her body. Her skin turned leathery over her bones, and she seemed to steadily rot before his very eyes.
And he could do nothing. Could not run, or scream. All he could do was watch as she withered and rotted in front of him, becoming a grotesque mummy of her former self. She turned in the air to face him, empty eye sockets glaring at him as a bony finger pointed.
“You let me die!! You killed me!! You could have saved me but you let me die!!” She screamed, before rushing at Valkien. When the wraith of Rose hit him, she burst into a cloud of darkness which enveloped the man.
Valkien awoke in a pool of sweat and -though he didn't know it- tears. His eyes stayed closed as his senses slowly came back to him, first the sound of the ocean, then the feel of warm sun on his soaked back. And then; the smell of death.
Now he opened his eyes, his head still on the floor. The dream -so vivid- made his heart beat so quick that he was sure it would burst out from his ribs any second now. There was no point in reacting, he had had dreams like this before... though not that vivid. In a desperate attempt to calm himself he closed his eyes again, but the image of his daughter came straight back into his mind, forcing them wide open again.
"Gods be damned." He muttered quietly to himself, still not realising the danger of the situation he was in right now. "Gods be damned." He was still sweating, and he dared not close his eyes for fear of seeing that image again.
The best way to get your mind of things was to do something active, he had learnt this in all those sleepless nights, after all those horrid nightmares. With not a small amount of effort he forced himself upwards, pushing his body up with tired and pained arms. It was then as he looked around that he realised what had happened.
"Gods be damned." He cursed louder than before, though still with a calm, cold voice. He checked his cuirass, his sword was gone, that wasn't good. The dead bodies around him made him even more bitter to still be alive, and it was with no emotion that he asked in a loud but not shouted voice, "Anybody alive?"
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Jul 28, 2008 0:32:58 GMT
Mudcrab armada around Jacin The Bosmer bowed low and clicked a few words, ancient magic of his people sending the message to the mudcrabs around him. They all perked up at the clicks, their red eyes turning dark for a moment, as if listening and considering.
They were all silent for a moment, like a group of foreigners after a native proved able to understand their language and what they said. As if they were talking about him before. Finally, a larger mudcrab -about the size of Jacin's torso- sitting atop a rock that was crowded with his kind raised his claws and clicked once.
"Mine."
"Mine mine mine mine mineminemineminemine." Without hesitation the entire six dozen or so crustaceans began to chatter the single word, and nothing more, raising their claws and scuttling towards Jacin, their eyes regaining that red tint. Over the rocks, over the sand, over each other! Some even began to bat at one another with their claws as they pushed and shoved to be the first to get to the Bosmer, always chattering the single word. It had begun to reach such a crescendo as the licking from before, that the Bosmer, even with his magical aid, would not be able to understand them any longer.
But as they moved towards him their waves of moving rock-bodies revealed what was a rock and what was definitely not. And near to the cliff were many rocks jutting from the sand. To a spectator, the entire spectacle would be rather humorous.
Near Valkien Valkien was standing only on a small beach, flanked on the left and right by jagged cliff walls that went into the water. The sand around him was pure white and fine grained, likely originating from the volcano that dominated the landscape he could view between the cliffs.
The beach gradually rose up to a stony gorge that resembled the Morrowind Ashland lava channels. Valkien's voice echoed from this canyon of stone, but he was not the only one to have heard it. Nor was it the only sound he would hear.
A cracking of stone, grinding of stone, and then a crumbling sound, followed the echo. But no rockslide came, from either the cliffs or the gorge ahead.
Wildman The man stopped a few feet from Perur, noticing the man drop the tip of his sword to the sand. His eyes watched the saber with interest, as if marveling at an object he had once known but lost long ago, only to finally find again. That flash of memory wiped from his face as Perur asked him about help.
The man 'hmmed' in thought, before twirling the spear and then jabbing it into the sand. He moved towards Perur on all fours now instead of on two legs, as if the spear had been a balance allowing him to be bipedal. He came right up to the Imperial, looking towards the side he was grasping in pain.
"Hurt. I help hurt. Not here. Beach safe not for long. Rock-crabs." he said simply, as if every word was as sensible as the last. Not all of it was very sensible though. He pointed towards the sea, then looked to Perur.
"Henry smash floating tree. Survivor come from piece of floating tree. Survivors bleed. Rock-crabs like bleeds and floating trees. Rock-crab hungry, rock-crab eat. Live or dead. Not safe. Survivors follow to tree home and heal." He instructed, before prancing on all fours back to his spear and pulling it from the ground. He kept his crouch, one hand holding the sand for balance.
"Come." He ordered with a hard, unwavering voice, looking towards Semira as he spoke and then at Perur, before turning graceful in the sand, kicking up very little of it, and scurrying into the forest foliage. Semira looked worriedly at Perur, then shrugged and limped after the nameless wildman.
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 28, 2008 1:54:42 GMT
As he walked, Aldarilon slowed his pace, his brow furrowing as though something seemed odd. But he couldn't quite place what it was.
He came to a stop. Now he was fairly certain something was off; something felt strange. It finally registered in his head that the sand around him was...moving? Sinking? He looked down. The sand around his feet, and all around the general area, appeared to be shifting.
He turned around sharply, looking around at the beach while moving his legs up and down. The sand made him feel uneasy; the fact that a beach was moving around couldn't be good. It even panicked him slightly. The factors of just having narrowly evaded death and of being in a foreign place didn't help either. Slowly, he began walking backwards toward the jungle line. While not feeling comfortable on the beach for this event, he wouldn't mind finding out what was going on from a safe distance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw a red object disappear into the sand.
|
|