This RP is officially closed
[Mira Ravenheart] doesn't have enough time or patience to keep it up and running.
It might start again at a later date.
The dark-eyed Endi Prince appraised the two new men with a critical eye, glancing between Mediave, Sessou and Eloren, before finally turning to the Warlord, Cerandus, and expressing his decision that they might ride with his men, should Lerectius wish it. The Druid in question stood off to the side, quite intently watching an errant grasshopper with a look of most serene interest, his old and wrinkled hands grasping the heavy wooden staff on which he leaned heavily.
Yet, however flaky he seemed, the Druid answered the Prince with a polite nod of his head, completely aware of the other conversation. He did not even look away from the grasshopper, smiling to himself as if he and this creature shared some secret.
Tenosehd could not help but smile at the old man. "Cerandus," he said, "these two men are in your charge." The large-framed and gruff Warlord nodded his understanding and his group moved to join the ranks of the Endinoth as the Prince mounted his Aënos horse; Val’Hallân, the only black stallion of that breed. After settling into the saddle with the grace of someone who had been born and raised on a horse’s back, he turned to Lerectius, smiling wryly at the Druid. "Old friend, you have the strangest choice of companions." His eyes flickered pointedly over Nathaniel, Eloren and Mediave.
The Druid did not comment, but simply smiled and mounted his white horse. He had acquired the small grasshopper, which now dozed in the small leather pouch on his belt.
The Prince smiled, shaking his head and lifting his sword hand, gesturing to for the Endi to move out. "RIDE!" He cried, and the call swept back through the ranks like a shiver through the small sea of men and horses. Then the ride began.
For hours little was said or heard besides the beating of the horses' hooves. Tenosehd was not in much of a mood to talk, though he cast a glance over his shoulder at Orrielle and the were-creature Trifean often enough to make sure that the two were keeping up and well.
They did not stop their forward ride until the sun was high in the noon sky, and even then it was only for a minute. This was not a pleasure ride, and they halted only long enough to eat, rest and water the horses. During this small interval, Tenosehd and his captains were seen discussing in a small group off to the side, exchanging few words but meaningful glances. When that meeting came to an end, Tenosehd announced that they would ride for the rest of the day.
"I want to reach the cover of trees by nightfall, and we will have to ride hard." The Prince commented to the elven maiden who cared for Trifean, a worried expression briefly crossing his handsome face, before all was made ready and the ride began again.
The wall of trees that had once been less than a smudge on the hazy horizon rose quickly before the Endinoth and their strange guests. When they reached the first small bushes, the sun a was already setting to the west, casting long shadows from the horses and their mounts and deepening the plains of Endir to a rich golden brown. It was a beautiful moment, but the riders stopped only when the larger trees rose up and encroached all around them.
By this time, the sun had all but set and only a sliver of light lingered on the horizon. The riders were dusty and weary, but made camp efficiently in a glade that they had scouted out and secured, nestled in the darkening bosom of the forest. Tenosehd, Prince of the Endi, was no longer in his realm.
"Welcome to Eisyden." He said to no one in particular, dismounting.
Orrielle smiled as they reached the cover of trees. The shade was a great relief after being in the sun for such a time, riding so hard. She reined in her horse, coming to a stop and dismounting before helping Trifean down.
Joslyn let her hold on Sivart's waist slack. A smile came to her dry, dusty lips.
Trees!Finally! Rubbing her eyes of dust she peered over Sivart's shoulder, wondering.
Van'Demarko followed the others still on his horse as he looked up and noticed the trees as well. "Its about time we get out of this damn desert. Wonder what will await us in the trees." He would say as he continued to follow the others.
Sivart saw the trees and thought
finally a change in scenery, but a lot more to watch for too as he felt Josylins grip loosen.
Sessou was the first to dismount, of the new crimson pair that had recently been added to the small congregation. His hand slid along the horses mane for a brief moment as he stepped slowly towards the trees. He could feel the life in every bit of foilage around him. His eyes fell closed and he silently bowed in respect to the forest that stretched out before the group. The ride had been long, certainly, and Sessou felt much more at ease now, in a forested area, than he had out in the desert.
Mediave took a less dramatic, and less respectable approach. His body lifted itself off his ride effortlessly. His hands found their way to his pockets, and his eerie red eyes cast gaze on his shadow. It appeared human, though for a flicker of an instant, he saw his true form, and that brought a half smile to his lips. Seeing the forest disrupted his train of thought. A strange idea of turnng back time, and how such an event would seriously alter the present state of affairs. He shook such a silly idea from his mind as his eyes drifted to Eloren. He wondered how much she knew about what she was, and even questioned how much he knew about one so ancient, that even dwarfed his race.
Trifëan got helped off the orse and thanked orrielle for that
" would it bother ou if i asked soem questions about this group of adventureres orrielle?" Trifëan asked politly. he have had enough time for thinking while mounted, and more questions came up every minute of thinking
"I would not mind in the least," replied Orrielle. "However, I may or may not be capable- or allowed- to answer your questions. Still, ask and I will do my best to provide you with an answer."
"Alrigt, uhm, you adventureres were going through this dessert, but you got horses, it would almost take the same time going around it to get to this place. Shorter stops and you could travel head-on without having to wait for anyone who can't keep up the pace becouse of the heath! And then the next question pops up, who are you people anyway? you are kind of wierd group, elves, humans, some noble with guards, fighters, druids wizards. it's nothing compared to what group of adventurers i have seen before."he siad while pointing randomly to the other companions. Are you the protecting this noble from someone? it des not make sence though becouse his own guards look wel trained and equipted for that.
Orrielle smiled slightly at the barrage of questions. She started by answering the last. "No, we are not protecting him. Rather, he and his guard are protecting us. We are a strange group, now that you mention it. I have not figured out why we have come together. I came because the druid, Eloren, and the swordsmen were kind to me. And I did not trust the vampires. We are searching for something. As for why we did not go around the desert, I've no idea. You would have to ask the others."
A shadow stepped up to add his own two cents to their discussion. Orrielle could immediately sense that it was Nathaniel even though he stood behind her and a pace back, out of her line of sight. He seemed to wear the fallen darkness like a cloak that hid his darkly handsome features, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly mundane and did not hold even the shadow of its usual menace.
"The Endinoth are not so much protecting us as escorting us. Lerectius, the master Druid you see over there," he made a gesture with one black-gloved hand towards the Druid who stood murmuring softly to his grey stallion. "is a family friend of the Prince Tenosehds. We all travel to Lathiron to.." he glanced sharply and pointedly at Orrielle at this point, clearly communicating that the were-tiger should not be trusted with their true task. His deep brown eyes flashed in the shadows. Not yet. "attend the funeral of the Lady Aria." Lifting an unseen eyebrow, the Vampire added, "the late Queen of Eisyden."
He paused then, to give the were-tiger a moment to catch up, before commenting rather coolly. "It would not have taken the same amount of time to go around. We took the shortest and straightest route through the plains. To go around would have been very, very far north or to have followed the river, which winds too far south to hit the main road. I’m sure that the young scribe you see settling down on the rock at the far side of this clearing would be more than happy to supply you with a map. If you have further questions, I would suggest directing them to the Druid in the ivory robes. Like I said; his name is Lerectius." With a perfectly emotionless smile, the figure garbed in the shadows of the night moved away from the two stragglers. "For I," he concluded, "am going hunting." His emotionless smile became teasingly predatory as he turned his depthless eyes on Orrielle. "Care to join me, darling?" He knew she wouldn't accept, but he wanted to see the look on the fair elf's face as the Black Vampire extended his invitation.
Sensing Nathaniel behind her, Orrielle appeared unfazed. She turned only enough to see him, while still keeping Trifean in her sight. She did not trust him, but she said nothing. She decided not to argue as he decided to hide their true purpose.
She was surprised when he invited her to join him in his hunt. At first she wondered if he planned to hunt her, and was only luring her away. But no, she deciphered that he only wished to see her surprise at the offer. She denied him of this, keeping her face perfectly emotionless. "Would you have me join you?" she asked innocently.
A wide smile graced Nathaniel's lips, exposing his pearly white canines and his vampiric nature. So she had read his intentions, he realized as he watched her smooth over her expression, leaving her face void, that emptiness of emotion a subtle hint as to what she felt and what went on behind those eyes. She did not trust him.
"Good." Her murmured to himself, his lips forming the word though she did not hear it. At her innocent enquiry, he extended his gloved hand to her and inclined her head. For a fraction of a second, his eyes met hers, conveying a simple, wordless challenge. She had surprised him, and he liked that. "Would I have asked otherwise?" He responded just as innocently.
Even as they spoke, the Endi were making camp tiny campfires dotted the decently sized clearing. They were surrounded on all sides by the forest, though it wasn’t as dense as it would become further to the west. There were no paths that they could see, but the men were heard to mutter that they would reach the main road early the next day. They must have overshot it during their speedy ride.
Orrielle detected his challenge. Never would she deny a challenge. She nodded, taking his gloved hand. "I woul;d be honored," she said simply. She felt apprehension, but let none of it show. She could handle this. What would he do? Did he dare attack her?
Nathaniel’s fingers closed around Orrielle’s smaller hand and, surprising enough, his hold on her was gentle. He did not want her to feel trapped, he wanted her to follow of her own accord and her own pride. He tasted her subtle apprehension, as only a vampire could, and his eyes searched her face from where it was veiled in the shadows of the trees that surrounded them. Seeing no trace of that apprehension, the vampire smiled inwardly. Outwardly he lead her into the blackening forests, the mischievous quirk to his sensual lips growing as they moved off into his element. "Well, my lady," he whispered humbly, the timbres of his voice an interesting cross between mocking and playful. "What shall be our pray tonight?" As the shadows of night closed in around them, separating them from the rest of the camp, Orrielle would find that his voice seemed to be coming from so much nearer to her ear than he stood. "Or should I say... who?"
Orrielle was only slightly surprised at his gentle hold on her hand. She was slihgtly amused by the tone of his voice, and suppressed a shiver when his voice sounded so near to her. She did not answer right away. "I am sure you are much more familiar with this than I am," she replied. "Perhaps there are others camping nearby? Another group?"
Joslyn swung down from behind Sivart. She gave the horse a gently pat, saying 'Thank you". She took the chance to breathe in the pure air that the trees gave off. She helped where she could in setting up camp, gathering dry kindling and putting up tents. Once that was done, Joslyn looked around, with her clear hazel eyes, and seeing that no one was particualry watching her, she quietly strode off into the forest.
Mediave took less than a moment, after his thoughts recompiled themselves, and his body willed itself towards Eloren. His head lifted lightly, his eyes focusing on her face, a hand moving gracefully up to her, offering his hand to help her off her steed. "I do hope your ride wasn't at too much of a discomfort, m'lady?" His momentary calm look conceded to his normal, devilishly mysterious, and perhaps even mischevious appearance.
Sessou, had decided to make an endeavour to help those around him. He helped out pitching tents with the Endinoth, offering up his services elsewhere should they be required. Those around him seemed to be fully capable and able by themselves though, and he was mostly rendered useless in this event. After a few moments of idling, he faded briefly into the forest, for a time of meditation. While he hadn't travelled far, he was mostly out of sight of the camp, in the moonlit night.
Surprised Trifëan watched the dark and strange Nathaniel leaving together with orrielle. He could see them going into the forest, deeper and deeper. Still he had the eyesight of a cat the two figures still vanished from sight seconds later.
feeling left alone he looked around to the other companions, and was about to follow Nathaniels suggestion of speaking with the druid untill two others from the encampment walked into the forest.
Without any second notion he followed into the forest.
Coming upon a fallen tree, Joslyn climbed then sat down. She tilted her head back.. She focused her eyes on the treetops, it felt do good to be back in green.
Nathaniel nodded his head wordlessly, drawing her deeper yet into the forest until mortal eyes would hardly be able to see the tree trunks that stood stoically on every side of them. His grip tightening on her hand, he pulled her closer so that she could see him, placing his fingertip on his lips to instruct silence.
Orrielle was silent and still, obeying his silent command. Sight was difficult for her, but she could still see a slight distance. Her sight was better than the average elf, even.
The Vampire closed his eyes, and beneath his lids his pupils dilated and the deepest red of his irises flared into a disturbingly enthralling vermillion. He took a slow breath and his night-senses swept the surrounding area. He did not use any magic, merely used his native darkness to heighten his senses. Even after he had taken note of every living creature anywhere near them or their camp, he kept his eyes closed and remained perfectly still, his face emotionless, pausing long enough to warrant a reaction.
The mare upon which Eloren was mounted shifted her weight and turned her finely-boned head and regarded Mediave with soft brown eyes. The mare’s nose nuzzled the 'man' as if looking for a treat or wishing to communicate her weariness. From her perch on the mare’s back, Eloren murmured soft nothings to the horse, not immediately giving Mediave her attention. She reached forward to pat the mare’s velvety black coat, an unseen smile claiming her lips.
When she lifted her face, the smile had transformed into something polite but reserved. The ravenhaired woman tossed her head to get her hair out of her face, very similar to the mare in her deceptively delicate beauty and black mane. "A ride is no discomfort, mi'lord. The mare has a nice gate and a sweet temperament." She responded only after her crimson eyes had appraised his face.
Upon accepting his hand, she stepped easily out of the saddle and landed lightly on her feet. She did not thank him.
Orrielle watched Nathaniel, waiting. She gave no sign of concern as he remained still, only watching, waiting. She knew he would do as he would, and nothing she did would change it. Perhaps it would anger him if she interupted, if anything, and that was something she did not want to risk. So she watched, and waited, in silence and stillness.
Mediave allowed the smallest sliver of a smile to breach his lips after helping the lady down. "Of course not, atleast not for yourself." His hand left hers soon after, and both hid themselves well within his pockets. His eerie eyes flickered, seemingly twisting and dilating as he looked her over. "And you'll have to think on pardoning, my rather blunt questions, M'lady, but what are you doing with people such as these? They don't seem to befit, one such as yourself." He stood, in a most upright manner, his head tilted fractionally as he awaited her answer.
About to open his eyes and allow himself the smile he had been suppressing, the Vampire froze. Beyond the faint sent and sound of the people and creatures in the woods, Nathaniel could feel something else; something that disturbed him deeply. A shudder quaked his still and cloaked form and his eyes flashed open, suddenly revealing their unsettlingly bright vermillion hue. Startlingly fast, he turned his head sharply towards her, his face an unreadable mask of concentration, his tense body quickly relaxing into a loose predatory stance. Only then did he whisper, "
There's something out there," and that whisper graced the minds of Joslyn, Sessou and the were-lynx who trailed behind.
In the core of his being, he could feel the flicker of darkness. Somewhere within himself, he knew what was there, but he denied himself and Orrielle that knowledge. Righting himself, he again took hold of Orrielle’s hand and led her through the underbrush to the right. His voice was surprisingly light when he spoke. "We shall just have to investigate, shan't we?" Letting his brilliant red eyes stray to Orrielle, he spoke more softly as if expecting her to be afraid or to hesitate to follow him. "I promise you that you will come to no harm while you are in my company, Lady Orrielle."
Orrielle was much more surprised by Nathaniel's sudden shudder than by the bright color of his eyes. Silently she nodded, hearing his warning. She followed him silently, smiling slightly, thinking that it would surprise her if any harm came to her out of his presence either. She was, if anything, slightly excited at the thought that there was something out there.
Her silence lead Nathaniel’s mind to wander. He did not fear the elf maiden, and he again let himself be drawn into the dark oddity that marred his senses. A frown creases his brow, for he could not seem to pinpoint what it was he felt. Their footsteps took them deeper yet into the shadows, the natural darkness licking at their faces before consuming them completely. Night had fallen completely, laying her cloak upon the forested lands of Eisyden. Despite this, the Vampire’s eyesight allowed him to see perfectly in the inky blackness of the forest, and his subtly glowing eyes strayed languorously over Orrielle’s soft elven features.
Despite her good eyesight, even Orrielle could hardly see in this darkness. It was complete and engulfing. So she followed Nathaniel's lead in silence, trusting him to keep her from getting lost. She felt rather than saw his gaze fall upon her, and it unsettled her slightly, although she gave no sign of it.
Joslyn felt her eyelids begin to droop. Giving her head a shake upon hearing the voice in her head,
"Yes it is me Joslyn...". She let her hair down and stood up. She didn't exactly want to go back to the camp site just yet.
I need to find a stream.... Taking resolve, the young woman went in search for water.
Earlier when Sivart dismounted, he fell and landed on his head, knocking him unconcious. he was taken to a tent and is just now waking up from his nap. "Oww that hurt," Sivart said as he emerged from the tent. "And of course, I wake up when everyone else is going to sleep. Well, I had better do something productive..." he said as he grabbed his water skins and went off into the woods to find a stream to get some water.
Trifëan walked slowly thru the darkness. it was fear that kept his senses on sharp. he could taste the scent of fear in this forest.
Or was it jsut his own fear, here alone, with unknown, strong people!
he wandered on, following the trail of any wrong odour!
Something small and hard obscured their path and Nathaniel nearly stumbled over it but sidestepped in one lithe movement that was almost too fast to see. A trick of the light - or should we say shadows - perhaps. Squatting to get a better look at what they had encountered, the Vampire squinted. His night vision and sense revealed a decently sized stone, almost like a headstone for a grave that had toppled over save that it was perfectly round and the surface was smoother than any stone most humans had ever seen. Nathaniel recognized it as a type of obsidian, a dark and glass-like stone, which justified why they had not been able to see it immediately. It blended in to the shadows.
The Vampire ran his gloved hand over the stone, his fingers gently exploring the designs thereon. The entire slab had a radius that was nearly the length of his arm, and the designs were sinuous as they wound towards the center of the stone. Following these designs were symbols that were engraved deeply in the stone's shadow-darkene
d surface. At the center, there was a beautiful carving of a rose, and that is where Nathaniel's touch paused.
Amusement quirked the corners of Eloren's lips as she responded. However, Mediave did not see the gesture until she turned back to face him after unfastening her pack from the back of the saddle. Handing the reins wordlessly to Mediave, she waved away the offered help of one of the Endi page boys and removed the black mare's saddle.
Only then did she turn to face Mediave fully, the saddle on one arm and propped casually and effortlessly against her hip. "People such as these?" The lilt of her voice betrayed some of the amusement that inspired her smile. "Do not be so quick to judge." Despite her words, she was quite intrigued by this man's comment. There was something about him that she could not place, something that tugged at memories long confined to the darker recesses of her mind.
Orrielle watched as Nathaniel bent, seeing something she did not. She remained standing as he crouched, examining the object. She focused on it from her position, her eyes travelling over the designs she could see only faintly. Just one design, the rose in the middle, was clear to her. Just as Nathaniel's touch lingered there, so did her gaze. "What is it?" she whispered, feeling as she did like a curious child.
Nathaniel's hand moved away from the rose and came to rest on his knees as he stared down that stone. His irises deepened the crimson colour of drying blood as he contemplated the symbols that circled the obsidian bloom. "Tkonvien..." he murmured, as if reading with difficulty, "Aestarte..". His inhuman eyes darted to the other symbols and his next words died on his lips. Suddenly, he stood upright and pushed Orrielle away from the stone, hoping that she had not yet seen what lay at the center of the rose's petals – a handle, almost as if this were a door.
Orrielle was not surprised that he ignored her question. She had expected as much. Her eyes flickered over his form, noting the change in his eyes, before returning to the stone's center. She contemplated the rose from above, and saw the handle in the very center. She began to lean down, reaching out her hand to touch it, when Nathaniel pushed her. It took her utterly by surprise, and she stumbled back a few steps before catching her balance.
Mediave paused for a moment, his head inclined lightly for just that instant. "Hmm..." was his only response yet, before he looked over the reins she so kindly handed him. "Perhaps something of a discussion for another time. There appears to be something of possible importance proceeding nearby, and several have already left the camp." Deciding finally, he knew not what to do with the reins, he held them up questioningly. "Shall we indulge ourselves as well?"
After walking for a while, Joslyn quietly heard the rippling of water. Thank the gods Pushing back brush and the like she smiled when the stream came into view. Taking a long glance around she began to undress. The water was a bit chilly but after being in the desert for god's know how long, she welcomed it warmly.
Sivart also heard the rippling of water, and the sound of brush cracking. as he walked he put a hand on his sword and as he heard the sound of something going into the water. I wonder what that could be? He looked through a bush and saw Joslyn's bare back. He turned to leave, but in his haste he tripped over a log and was entangled in some vines. This is going to be embarassing, she certanaly heard my crashing around. How am I going to explain this?
Hearing the crash, Joslyn leaped out of the water, straight for her clothes, reaching for a dagger. She calmed her breathing, she scrambled into her loose shirt and went in search for what made the noise. What she found, she had to hide her smile, "G'eve Sivart."
Sivart only answered when he heard Joslyn, for he had his eyes closed while laying spread eagal on the ground tangled in vines. "What ever this looks like, it isnt what you think it is! I was only getting water for my water skin." In his haste to get away he had dropped his skin and just made him look more incriminating. "I wasnt trying to watch you on porpose...er...oh no. I'm not helping am I?"
Joslyn softly laughed, "No not really. Open your eyes tis fine I'm clothed." She extended a hand.
"I would take your hand if I could," Sivart said as he struggled to get free of his bindings, "but I am a little tied up at the moment. Hang on a second." He produced a knife in his hand that had been hidden in his leather armor sleeve and cut himself loose, but of course he had been suspended and landed with a loud thump.
Joslyn laughed out this time. She went and knelt next to the fallen Sivart. "Are you alright?" A smile on her lips.
"Do you see this?" Sivart patted his stomach, "That is the padding I have just incase of this kind of event. I didn't intrupt anything other than a bath did I?" Sivart said as he blushed.
"Seeing that no one else was with me..." Her eyes glazed over for just a second. "No you didn't" Her hand was still extended, her wet hair dripping onto him, she tucked it behind her ears.
Nathaniel's hand flashed out to catch Orrielle, his arm around her shoulders to restrain her or steady her - which of the two it was, was not evident in any of his manerisms. His voice lowered, the Vampire spoke again, "Cràhnis ra Aválien ny Yavannië...". He heaved a sigh when he finished speaking, turning his face to study Orrielle's, wondering if she understood the meaning behind those words.
Orrielle couldn't tell if he caught her arm to keep her from falling, or to stop her from getting closer to the stone. But when she heard his words, all such wondering was forgotten. It took her several seconds to realize the meaning of his words in the ancient tongue. When she figured it out, her jaw dropped. She watched Nathaniel even as he studied her. Bind the Heart of Life. They were not words she could use. She was merely an amature at magic. But she knew of them.
Sivart took her hand and hoisted himself up with her help and he looked at her and ended up just staring down at her face. "Uh...er...I had better go up stream to get some water," he stammered as he looked for his water skin.
"Alright if you wish..." Joslyn sidestepped him, bent down and picked up his waterskin. "Here you are."
"You sound disapointed," Sivart said as he took his skin. "What did you want me to drink your bath water or someting?" he asked as he laughed. "Really what is it?"
Joslyn shook her head, her hair dripping down her back now, "Tis free flowing water Sivart. You wouldn't be drinking my bath water." She gave a small smile, "Nothing tis wrong. Just been a long day, a long journey."
"Where do you think the water goes, up stream?" he asked. "But I do know how you fee, i am feeling the same thing. I had better let you go so you can take your bath. See you back in camp."
"Probably." answered Joslyn. She nodded, moving back towards the stream. "Yes see you later."
Sivart went up stream and got his water and on his way back, he was ever so tempted to go see Joslyn...Just to make sure she was safe. But he stayed up stream just in earshot of her, incase she did need help. from many of his adventures, he had learned never go in the woods alone, especially at night.
Joslyn slipped the shirt back off and resumed to wash herself. While washing her hair, she began to softly sing a tune her father, told to her by her mother, used to sing to her when she was still in the womb. Thinking that Sivart had already gone back to camp, she gained confidence and sang louder. "My darling, do not worry, I am always by your side..." Rinsing off, she dried off with her cloak, then re-dressed. She piled her hair on top of her head, knotting it. She started away from the stream. I should tell the other ladies that there is a stream to wash in....
Sivart decided to play a little trick on Joslyn, just to teach her about going out with out a partner. He quickly made his way through the woods without a sound and came up behind Joslyn, when he leaned forward and uttered "Boo!" in her ear.
She had heard him coming up behind her. When he was leaning forward she unsheathed a dagger from her sleeve and what he felt after he said "Boo" was the tip of it right in his stomach. She gave it a little push, letting him know it was there. "Very good."
"Not bad yourself," Sivart said as he sucked his belly off of the knife. "How long ago did you know I hadnt gone back to camp?"
"Thank you." She turned around, facing him, bring the blade to her side. "And only for a few minutes."
"Well it looks like I had the advantage for a little bit there...so we had better get back to camp before anyone suspects anything. Shall we?" he asked as he extended the crook of his arm to Joslyn.
Joslyn smirks, she takes his arm, "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" She cradles the rest of her garb in her other arm.
Sounds of talking came from both sides, as the forest itself laid in silence, waiting for sunset.
Trifëan took hold and treid to hear which was the voice of joslyn or the dark figure, but even with his keen senses he couldn'tmake out any difference out of the voices.
he guessed and took finally left.
Sivart heard the sound of a branch cracking behind him and he moved to cover Joslyn with his armored back.
Her hand kept on Sivart's arm, Joslyn half-way rolled her eyes. It was different that a man would put himself in front of her. A smirk came to her lips.
Lōren had been flying what seemed like ages. Her silver wings reflected the light of the starting twilight giving her the look of a storm cloud. She made herself keep gliding... She needed water. She kept her eyes on the horizon until there was a dark smudge in the distance, a forest. Where there were trees there was water. She lowered herself and noticed lights from campfires. She didn't want to scare the people so she went wide and glided to the trees. Her wings were beginning to shake from the strain of the three day flight and with her end in sight her will started to dissolve. Her head started to loll and her wings shuddered then collapsed. She fell from the sky like a boulder falling from the heavens as she slammed into the trees with such ferocity that the crash could be heard for miles. A cloud of wood and dust floated in the air where she landed and the animal noises that had just died away started up with alarm. She tried to stand again but noticed that her front left leg was broken. She cried out with a dragon's roar as she accidentally put her weight on it. She changed into her elven form then and held her arm in pain as she sobbed rolling on the ground in pain.
Trifëan stopped and listened, he heard a swooping sound coming nearby. He looked up but couldn't see anything because of the dense wood.
Than the crashing of woods could be heard, like it was hit by a huge cannonball. In fright and adreline rush he felt his body chaning '' not now, not now'' but it was to late, his mouth grew outward, his ears started to grow longer, his whole body reshaped into that of a big cat. he growled in pain, but could hear a roar of even greater might scream in agony. the sound came from where the tree's had broken down.
'some one is hit'' he tought.. he wanted to start running to help nbut reminded he could not show him self liek this.. so he started sneaking in the direction.
A shiver of silence passed through the Endi camp. Gauntleted hands froze mid-spoonful, legs froze midstep and mouthes froze midbreath. Every soldier paused - their ears straining and their body tense - to try and hear another sound that might indicate the nature of the crashing they heard in the forest.
Nothing. Then the camp burst to life. Men jumped nimbly to their feet, abandonning dinners for their defenses. Some Endi warriors kicked dirt over the fires to hide their position from a possible enemy. All hands saught the hilts of the swords at their belts, or the arrows from the quivers on their backs. All eyes fixed blindly into the darkness of the forest beyond their camp; a darkness that was closing in on them slowly with the dousing of each fire. Not a word was exchanged. Tense silence.
The loud crash that came from the forest struck a chord in the back of Eloren's mind. Something inside of her jumped and struggled. The raven-haired woman frowned in confusion. The uncomfortable clawing sensation in her mind grew stronger, pulling relentlessly at her consciousness and making her head spin. Her legs buckled beneath her and her slender frame sank to her knees before doubling over. Full lips were parted, releasing pained gasps. What's happening to me...
The depthless crimson of her eyes receded slowly, forced back by a clear and unforgiving blue. And then, the pain was gone. A gloved hand appeared from the folds of her cloak, followed by an arm braced with blackiron twisted into the form of draconic scales and spikes. Placing her hand palm down on the dirt, Eloren Khayvien pushed herself easily to her feet. "Excuse me," she said casually in a voice that said nothing of pain. She did not look at Mediave, but turned on her heal and disappeared swiftly into the shadows of the trees.
And into that silence, the white robed figure of Lerectius heaved a great sigh. He had not joined in the defensive scrambling of the Endinoth. Instead, he sat beside the - now doused- fire, closed his eyes and whispered one word. "Vuen..." That single, whispered word travelled through the crowd of armed men, and slipped weightlessly through the trees beyond, until that delicately ethereal sound reached the fallen, humanoid body of the silver dragoness.
The Druid's aged brow wrinkled into a deep frown as he released the magic and opened his golden eyes. "How unexpected," he grunted. Then, both hands on his staff, he pulled himself heavily to his feet. "Stay here," The command was directed to Lord Tenosehd, Prince of the Endi. "and await my return."
The brown-eyed and sandy-haired young man bowed his head to show that he understood and the Druid grunted his approval. Patting the Prince's shoulder with a weathered hand he set off into the woods, leaning heavily on his staff.
Nathaniel's iron grip did not relent or release Orrielle, though it slipped from her shoulders to her wrist. With a jerk of his head, a motion blurred by the shrouding darkness of the woods, he drew her away from the carved stone. "There are some things in this world.." his voice was husky and low as he guided her through deepening shadows, "that are best left undisturbed."
His head shot up as first the crash and then the roar echoed through the Eisydenian forest. "What, in the Damned Name of Lorken" he growled darkly, "was that?!". For a moment again, he paused, his body unyieldingly still and silent, his face as still as stone. The unearthly pallor of his skin almost made him seem to glow, and left the obsidian of his eyes an unfathomable blackness in comparison. Suddenly, he released her. "Follow me," he breathed over his shoulder before stepping silently through the trees.
Orrielle meerly nodded at Nathaniel's ominous declaration. She didn't need to be told twice that the strange object was dangerous. She, too, however, was startled by the sudden noises. Even more startling was the vampire's sudden release of her. She threw one glance back in the direction of the strange stone before following him wordlessly, without the slightest idea of their destination or what they would find there.
Nathaniel made his silent way through the woods, melting from shadow to shadow with a practiced and not-entirely-human grace. A gentle midnight wind brushed past him, teasing his black hair and heavy travelling cloak. Beneath it, his black-clothed body was very tense. His vampiric senses were alert for any sound. He could hear as much as feel the movement among the Endi as well as the light footsteps of the elven woman behind him.
Eventually, the Vampire stopped. Straightening, he peered through the strangely twisted underbrush. It took him a second to realize that it was not underbrush, but the fallen appendages of trees. Wordlessly, he placed a booted foot on the nearest grounded trunk. "What do you think did this?" He said in a voice quiet enough to reach her ears only.
Hard as she tried, Orrielle utterly failed to match Nathaniel's silent step. It irked her, and she vowed to improve on such skills as silence and blending in. When they arrived at at the strange scene, she took it in silently and quickly as his words fell upon her ear. She remained quiet a moment longer, composing an answer. "Some thing potent, and possibly dangerous." There were no other words immediately coming to mind.
Mediave's eyes followed Eloren's form for a short moment, tiliting his head after her briefly. 'Hmm...' He thought with a smirk, his eyes and attention lifting towards the treeline. Curiosity still, held his hand, greater now at the unexplained event that occured a breathless moment before. Curiosity though, that couldn't match that of Eloren, still, that option had been closed off to him. His hands found the coat pockets of his thick outer garmet and he strode off towards the forest, demonically swift steps carrying his feet as he left the camp.
Not long into the dark forest, he found his fellow, crimson clad accomplice. 'RuHasu' may not trust him, but he'd come along either way. His meditation disturbed first by the whispered words of Nathaniel, and then completely shattered by the wreckage of what crashed. Already alerted to Mediave's close pressence, he turned, weapon hands ready at the hilt of their instruments. "Why are you here?" He questioned. Mediave responded simply "Curiosity." before slipping off into the thick wood, Sessou Seitou, the exiled samurai, following close behind.
Lōren sobbed and held her arm closely, she hadn't the strength to heal it... She looked around hoping that by some small chance that she had landed near water but she had not. A new stream of tears filled her eyes and she slowly stood up shaking. She realized that she was naked. In her rush to change she had forgotten to have clothes form. She stumbled through the broken trees and found one to sit on. She looked at the ground as her tears fell to her feet. She shivered and let her hair fall around her shoulders to cover her breast and help keep her warm; the black veil shimmering in the moon light. She closed her eyes and let her body do what it knew best, feel. She felt for vibrations. She knew that she had made a big crash and had felt the noise from the trees. Though she could not hear it herself she knew that the camp had. Her only hope now was that the people were nice and would help her. She felt so tired, so very tired. Her head started to droop and she fought it to stay awake. Her exhaustion was catching up with her, but she...could....not...fall... She went limp and fell to the ground as her body finally won the battle in the quiet cold night and she fell asleep.
Though Sylvièn had been flying for two passes of the moon already, there was no way that she would allow herself to rest. The battle with the Black Dragon had been fierce indeed, and when it looked as though it would have gone ill for her sister, Lōren, Sylvièn, had told her to fly. Where she was now, Sylvièn could only imagine. The Great Desert Lands separated the home that they had shared, and the forest lands of Eisyden, and the closest water sources. That would have to be where Lōren had flown, it only made sense. So she would not be seen by mortal eye, Sylvièn flew into the heavens and held her place in the skies. Closing her eyes, and opening her mind, she felt a rumble in her throat as her voice, accompanied by the sounds of simple magics came forth… Vuen teih ahven Lōren… The desert lands stretched out in an endless mass of brown and the occasional green, until it came to the mass of the Forest of Eisyden. Her vision wound through the trees until it came to rest on the form of her sister, naked and wounded. Before she could assess the situation further, she could feel the extended use of magic draining her strength. Opening her eyes ended the spell, and with all the strength she had left, she flew quickly toward the body of her sister that lay deep within the forest of Eisyden, hopefully, she would be able to get to her before anyone else. Without the healing words and fresh water, Lōren might fall into darkness…and that was not acceptable. Sylvièn would push herself to exhaustion before she would let her sister fall. She would reach her sister before the blessed Moon reached it's zenith this night.
Joslyn heard the resounding crash but as she went to react, others were already moving. Let them handle it, they already do anyways. She kept moving back to camp. Once there, she notices that it's half empty, most of the main people that she had met were gone, only tents and horses really remained. She set up her own little settlement and got comfortable, or what she called comfortable.
The Endinoth regarded Joslyn wearily as she made herself at home. One young man with sandy blond hair, the colour visible only due to the flickering firelight, offered Joslyn a bowl of the stew that the armsmen had heated over another fire. "M'lady?" He murmured shyly, his youthful face alight with a slight flush as he extended the wooden bowl.
It seems that the Endinoth had settled back down, trusting - as had their Prince - that the Druid would take care of whatever it was. The blond young man thought it must have simply been an large animal that the Druid could confer with in some magical way of his. The Endi's green eyes kept flickering to the tree-line even as he offered the bowl politely to Joslyn.
Hearing a polite gesture, Joslyn looked up to find a handsome youth offering her a bowl with steam. She gave him a sincere smile as she took the bowl,her fingers slightly brushing against his, "Thank you kindly." She licked her lips, her mind going back to what she was. Oh how she could seduce.....No! She would not allow herself to go down that path again. She averted her thoughts to what the handsome young man was looking at, "No worries there. I'm sure they can handle it properly."
Subconsciously attracted by her sincere smile and soft touch, the blond Endi lingered in Joslyn's company. "I hope so..." He answered, but his quiet words were shadowed by his unvoiced worry. His lips curved into a smile and he scratched his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully as he turned his eyes away from her and towards the forest. After a brief moment, the soldier shrugged his shoulders and sent her a crooked grin. "And if they don't handle it, we will. There's near three dozen soldiers riding with the Prince. We needn't fear anything short of a dragon."
Nathaniel did not even look at Orielle, his midnight black eyes flickering over the unatural clearing. "Almost like a fallen star..." He commented in a soft voice that slipped through the air like a snake. Bracing his shadowy figure against the gnarled arm of the tree on which he stood, the Vampire dropped off of the trunk and began picking his way through the brush towards something that Orielle could not see.
Though his eyes could not see her, his vampiric sight could sense Loren's presense. The predator in him quivered at the sent of her weakness, his hands clenching then relaxing as he faught for control. When he came upon Loren's slumbering form, his brow furrowed and he found himself frozen in place. So used to creatures of darkness, the Vampire Princeling was dazzled by whom he was seeing. He knew immediately what she was only because of what he was - just as he knew what Eloren was.
Nathaniel closed his flaming eyes and pursed his hungering lips. When he opened his eyes, they were once again a calm and calculating black.
Orrielle followed the vampire with slow, deliberate steps. She stopped a few feet behind him, though she could see the silhouette of a person before him. There was little else she could see in the lack of light, so she stopped straining her eyes and instead just waited. Although she wondered what would happen next, she was not impatient. She was unaware of Nathaniel's internal struggle for self control.
The Vampire's gaze slid over Loren's helpless nakedness as she lay sprawled out amidst the churned earth. Immediately, he picked up the sent of her blood. With a shrug of his powerful shoulders, Nathaniel's cloak slid off of his black-clad body and into his gloved hands. Kneeling, he spread the heavy fabric over Loren's limp body. It was not warm, for he had no body-heat, but it sheltered her from the night and offered her some decency. Displaying a surprising amount of gentleness, he lifted her into his arms, wrapping the cloak around her as he did so. Holding Loren thusly, he turned to Orielle.
"She's hurt, we should take her back to camp." Were the only words he offered, his voice hushed as if not wishing to disturb the woman in his arms.
Trifëan had been watching the women from the shelter of the forest. He didn't knew what to do, there was something strange about her, he hadn't sensed her before the crash, but such a lady could not make such a sound in a crash.
then Nataniel and Orielle came, and he sawy how Nataniel lifted the women and walked of to the camp.
he decided he should go back to camp, and he started to sneak slowly back to.
The forest edge had drawn close quickly, as Sylvièn had flown as swiftly as her wings could carry her. Near the forests edge, she landed and allowed the light of the moon to aid in changing her body into the form that would be much less recognizable to any that she might come across. The light of the moon shone down on her silver hair as she made her way through the patches of moonlight that filtered through the tops of the trees, and onto the land below. Keeping the image of her fallen sister close in her mind, Sylvièn quickly made her way through the trees to the place where her sister should have been laying. When she did not see her body, panic began to course through her veins; it was then that she saw the silver hair that adorned her sister’s head glinting in the moonlight a little ways off. Someone or something was carrying her off. Caution of keeping the truth hidden was gone from her mind. The only thing there now was to protect Lōren "Stop. Please, you have my sister."
Orrielle merely nodded; it was obvious that the girl was hurt. There were no necessary words. She couldn't help but be surprised by Nathaniel's sudden gentleness. It seemed unlike him. But she still said nothing. The sea elf found herself looking around again, taking in the entire view, and was even more surprised when another person came to join them, telling them to stop. The person who spoke claimed to be the sister of the one in Nathaniel's arms. She looked curiously at the newcomer, still silent.
The Black Vampire turned slowly to face the woman who spoke, the shadows of the moonless night writhing at his feet. "Your sister is hurt, my Lady," Nathaniel said in a voice as soft as silk caressing Sylvièn's cheek, "and we are from a camp nearby. My friend here is a healer, and we travel with the Druid, Lerectius. Let me take her to him. I promise that he will tend to her. You are free to join us, Mistress." He inclined his head in a polite gesture, his ebony-gloved hand lifting to gently cup the back of Loren’s silver-crowned head as he dipped in a half bow, cautious not to disturb her slender form.
Sylvièn contemplated the proposition for a few moments, looking to the one that held her sister, and back to her sister's form. "I have the healing arts as well. She has been traveling alone for three days with no water...I was...protecting our home from...invaders I told her to flee...and I have now just found her again." The strength inherent in her voice was returning. Her gaze never leaving the eyes of the one holding Lōren. Sighing, she continued. "Very well. I shall follow you...however, if any harm comes to my sister by your hands or by those that you travel with...it would not bode well. She is all I have and I am all she has. I do hope you understand." She began to make her way toward the one holding Lōren, "I will follow."
Nathaniel's sharp black eyes contrasted with the inhuman palor of his skin. They were unwavering under Sylvièn's scrutiny. His sensual lips quirked into a half smile that exposed the tips of his elongated canines; lending a predatory glint to his polite regard. "You have nothing to fear from us, Mistress." He said, his voice taking on a cultured and respectful tone, though there were undercurrents in every quiet word that would send shivers up most spines. "If you also have healing powers, I am sure that Lerectius would be thrilled to make your acquaitance." Wasting no more time, the Vampire turned his back on Sylvièn and Orrielle, letting them catch up. His long strides carried him quickly through the underbrush, one corner of his heavy travelling cloak trailing, though it shrouded Loren's form which he still held in his arms.
Sylvièn held back the anger in her voice and allowed the soothing light of the moon to calm her and lead her to where ever it was that this dark one was taking her sister. There was no time for this. She should have taken Loren from him and healed her. Shaking her head, she sighed. Perhaps this was not going to be so bad after all, but she hoped that this Druid would not be able to tell who she really was. Since her sleep had been disturbed, she had not been in the presence of other 'people' in almost 1000 years. This would be interesting, but as long as Loren was safe, it would be well.
Orrielle followed in silence. She had nothing to say, and at the moment any words would be pointless. She was reminded once more of her distrust of Nathaniel as he so subtly yet so casually reminded her wiht both his appearance and his canines. She wasn't sure of who Loren was, let alone this woman who was her sister, but she did not dare question them. Right now the most important thing, she realized, was watching Nathaniel closely to make sure he didn't try anything. She had let her guard slip around him and was frustrated with herself for it. The sea elf followed, eyes on the vampire, distrust in them once more.
The gentle moonlight that soothed Sylvièn had not been present in the clearing until just moments before, for this night was a moonless night and the shadows were deep in the forest of eastern Eisyden. None noticed that subtle change of luminescence just as none noticed the being that had caused it. She stood, silent and unseen, embraced and veiled by the hanging bows of an ancient willow tree that had not been touched by Loren's blunder. Eyes as mysterious and as inconceivably deep as the night sky observed the three figures. The long black lashes that rimmed them fluttered as the woman closed her eyes.
A weathered hand appeared on the woman’s slender shoulder, disturbing her thoughts as well as flowing strands of the black hair that cascaded over her luminous skin. She was so pale, like an angel to his golden eyes. The old Druid bowed to her when she turned to him, the ethereal fabric of her garb whispering against her skin. She did not have to open her eyes to know who he was. A slow, but impossibly beautiful, smile claimed her elven features.
"Child of Númiden..." she acknowledged in that smooth voice that was so much a part of the night sky, the song of the wind through the stars. In the glowing shadow of that ancient willow, the two figures exchanged few words but many meanings. And then the moonlight again faded from the moonless night, and the two figures withdrew. Sparkling azure eyes faded and twisted into a feral crimson, and all was as it had been.
In the Endi Camp:
Out of the line of trees appeared the lithe form of Nathaniel Mahrkonri. In his arms he bore a beautiful young elven woman. Only her head was visible over the worn black traveling cloak that was wrapped around her body. Blood from her wounds was beginning to seep through the thick material and the Vampire’s eyes were dark, unreadable pools as he looked around at the stunned Endinoth.
"Don't just stand there gaping," he berated darkly, black eyes flashing. "Get us water and shelter. Quickly." The Endi who had been sitting with Joslyn rose quickly to his feet and went to fetch water. The other five in this area of the camp continued watching, stunned. They had all been tense, waiting for Lerectius' return or some word of what the loud crash had been. Now this? Who was she? Another armesman disappeared behind the a tent to fetch Tehnosed.
Nathaniel did not see Lerectius. “Where is that blasted Druid?”
"'That blasted Druid', as you so kindly put it" chimed a voice from the opposite side of the clearing, "has been wondering where our resident Vampire Princeling had run off to with the lady Orrielle." There was some measure of chiding in the old man's deep voice as he exited the trees, leaning heavily on his staff. "Ah," he acknowledged gruffly when he saw Orrielle behind Nathaniel. "Good. Well, bring the poor creature in your arms to my tent and for Númiden's sake stop looking at her like that. You're going to give her sister a heart attack." Grumbling incoherently to himself, the bent old Druid shuffled towards the nearest tent. The bottom hem of his long ivory robes was worn, torn and grass stained.
Joslyn looked from the couple that came out of the forest back to the young man, "See told you everything would be alright." She blew on the stew and went about devoring it, not noticing until now that she was very hungry.
About a mile away a young figure emerged. He wore black leather pants, boots and shirt. Over his shit was a long leather coat that was also black. His shoulder length hair blew in the wind as his deep crimson eyes peered toward a fire some distance away. The young man seemed to have only been around for seventeen winters yet his crimson eyes showed that he had seen and exprienced much.
He was a dhampir and due to his lineage he was feared by those who did not understand what he was or just hated him for his cursed blood line. Demetrius continued his easy pace reflecting on what he had happend to him in the last village he visited. He was chased out of the village due to some human figuring out he was dhampir. He didn't want to hurt anyone and thus left the vllage with reat haste. He sighed and continued to walk towards the camp. "Perhaps they may share some food and drink...I mean I haven't eaten in like three months." Demetrius was never really social, yet he figured he needed to eat sometime and his stomach was rumbling.
The Goddess had spoken to her, and that was all she had needed to keep her feet moving in the direction that the dark on had taken her sister. Moving quickly to keep up with Vampire, Sylvièn contemplated the appearance of the goddess. It must have been a sign that this was the way that she was supposed to go. Perhaps these ones back at the camp, the Vampire spoke of, knew something about the Eye of the Dragon. If Lorken was indeed waking and the Eye of the Dragon failing in keeping him contained, she would do whatever was necessary to find it and aid in keeping Lorken locked away, or seeking to have him destroyed. When they reached the edge of the camp, Sylvièn held her hand up to her eyes for a moment, to keep the harsh glare from the fire from stinging her sensitive eyes. Once Lōren was healed, she would need to talk with her about what it was that the two of them should do. Keeping their Dragon nature a semi secret would have to certainly come as a top priority, for as far as they knew, they were the only ones of their kind left. Keeping the Eye of the Dragon intact was the most important thing now. Keeping Lorken out of the world would be the most important thing for any creature in Nyan to do. The druid that the Vampire had spoken of made himself known as they entered the camp. Most eyes made their way to Sylvièn and her sister’s body that was still in the arms of the blased Vampire. Sylvièn stepped forward, “If I may, I will take her from here. I can aid the Druid in healing her and the sooner the better.” Waiting for the Vampire to hand over her sister, she turned to the druid. “I know not your name, but you will have my thanks if you can aid in returning my sister to me. Her injuries do not seem great, but she has been without water for three days, and has been…traveling swiftly the same amount of time. I fear that our…home was attacked, and she fled upon my asking to save herself.” Sylvièn shook her head. "There is no time for this; please…let us do this. There are other things that need to be discussed as well.”
Orrielle re-entered the camp, distrustful eyes still on Nathaniel's back. Much to her relief, he didn't try anything. If he had, she would have been capable of little, but nonetheless she would have felt obliged to try. Hearing Lerectius's voice, the sea elf blushed. How strange it must seem for a woman to go into the woods alone with a vampire. The fact that she returned unharmed was also strange. She walked into the shadows, away from the crowd, and sat in the shadows perhaps a hundred feet away. Lerectius would be busy healing Loren, and she had no desire to be in the company of the vampire any longer. She instead decided to be alone, where she soon was lost in thought about dragons, amulets, and vampires.
Ignoring Sylvien's pleas, Nathaniel followed the ivory-robed figure. The Vampire's eyes slid over the Druid's back. How did the old man know that Loren and Sylvien were sisters, before even having seen Sylvien? Surely the Druid knew what they were. In the concealing darkness, the Vampire's brow creased into a frown. The appearance of these two Dragonesses did not bode well for his cause. Too many factors were getting between himself and the amulet. And the woman in his arms, who's quiet heartbeat was just a faint fluttering across the pale skin of her neck, and who's blood teased his senses, was distracting him beyond measure. Such a waste, the crimson juice that stained his heavy cloak.
And then he ducked into tent. Lerectius was already puttering about, lighting candles and plushing up his palet with the cleanest blankets that he could find. Nathaniel simply watched, bemused. He knew Lerectius could have lit those candles with a flick of his wrist. What a strange man, the Black Vampire mused.
At Lerectius' sweeping gesture, Nathaniel advanced and lowered Loren's slumbering form to the palet. For a brief moment he lingered, bent over her, his arms around her. So fragile, so helpless. The seductive fluttering of her heartbeat in her throat a sensual show in the flickering candlelight. There was a sharp crack on the back of his head. Nathaniel rolled his eyes, realizing that the Druid had hit him with the butt of his staff. It did him no harm but, with a sigh that whispered against her brow, he withdrew his arms and released her.
Before he knew what was happening, he had been ushered out of the tent, the canvas flap blocking his view and his entrance. Crossing his muscular arms over his chest, he scowled, baring his teeth in his frustration.
"Stop growling out there. I'm sure you can find someone else to harass, my Lord." Lerectius called curtly from within. Nathaniel ground his teeth and clenched his fists. No one talked to him, High Lord of Severin, like that. Ever. What a strange man, he found himself thinking yet again. Suddenly, he grinned despite himself, uncrossing his arms and turning his back on the tent. "Someday, Druid." He murmured to himself, shaking his head. "Someday."
After scarfing her stew down, Joslyn slowly stood to her feet. A smirk crossed her pale lips. Moving along she went to stand by the tent where the Druid had the woman that was brought in. She was going to interrupt but decided against it. She let him be, knowing that the old man could handle whatever that was going to happen.
Nathaniel glanced at Joslyn in passing, and stood aside to let a young Endi bearing a bucket of water pass, murmur his intentions through the canvas flap, and enter. As the armsman disappeared through the makeshift doorway, the Vampire again turned his back on the tent and it's inhabitants. Though he had fed well only two nights before, Nathaniel was feeling restless. The Thirst was beginning to worm its aluring way into his thoughts, and he needed to appease it, longed to do so. He flexed his fingers and the black leather of his gloves creaked as he cast a feral gaze over the camp. His eyes were brightening to a blood red, and the bloodlust coursed through his veins like liquid fire, aching for the life blood that could sate it. He needed a victim. Now.
Deceptively calm steps carried him to the edge of the camp. He seemed almost to stroll as his senses delved into the minds of the Endinoth present. Was there anyone who would not be missed? A page boy, perhaps? The pretty kind, with youthful hearts and sweet little screams that were music to his ears. No, he sighed, refraining. No, he would not enjoy human blood tonight. Wistfully, he strode into the embracing darkness of the forest. "Hello Darkness," he said with a wry grin, "My old friend."
Orrielle was sharply awoken from her thoughts as another presence entered her line of sight. Her eyes narrowed as she recognised it as Nathaniel, though it was too dark to see him clearly. He walked past her, not so much as acknowledging her presence, and her eyes narrowed more. Why would he be heading out of camp once more? He had no reason to leave the safety of the camp. She sensed that something was not right; he had some evil planned. Any trust she had gained in him had now been forgotten as the sea elf silently and gracefully stood, staying in the shadows, following the vampire into the woods. She heard his soft words; they were like poisoned honey to her ears. She drew closer, wondering what he had planned and what she could possibly do about it.
His senses hightened by the bloodlust, Nathaniel immediately sensed Orrielle's presence. He even caught some of her unguarded thoughts. He wanted to turn, trap her slender frame in his arms, break that graceful neck and revel in the warm blood that pulsed through that pretty throat with every heartbeat. But he did not turn. Did not let his eyes fix on her. Did not let his senses loose on her. Instead, he stopped dead and half glanced over his shoulder. "Do not follow me." He said quietly, his voice husky in the warm darkness of the night. Fiery red eyes closed. "It is not safe." The black cloth of his tunic was tight over his muscular back, making him stand out even against the dark forest beyond; a shadow among shadows.
A soft laugh trickled through the air from the shadows in which Orrielle hid. She should have guessed he would detect her presence. Her slender frame was hidden in the shadows even as she watched his own silhouette against the forest's shadows. "What is safe?" she asked quietly, knowing without a doubt that he would hear. His own voice had a unique quality to it, one that hadn't been there before. She wondered about it, and suddenly had a good idea what it meant. Surely he was leaving on a hunt. A bloodlust had struck him and now he must satisfy it. He planned to kill some innocent soul. She wouldn't let him.
Her soft laughter sent shivers through him and his back tensed. No, he told himself. No. Closing his eyes more tightly, the Vampire remained completely still for a long moment. Like a statue, he stood, his silhouette beyond darkness all save the inhuman palor of his handsome face. His profile was facing her as he lost himself in the power of the simple sent of her blood. Her heartbeat was loud in his ears. But still he refrained.
With a sigh, he turned to face her, arms again crossing over his chest. His sensual features were composed and his lips had curved themselves into a dangerous smile. Innocent soul, he mused, catching the frayed corner of a thought from her elven mind. "There is no such thing as an innocent soul, my sweet." His words were almost a predatory purr, whispers brushing her skin though he was still feet away. He could change that in a heartbeat - her last - but he didn't. "Follow me, Orrielle, and I may very well kill you." His voice took on a blunt edge, an earnesty that she had never seen. "I do not want to kill you. Leave me."
A snap, purposefully loud, echoed not far from either of the pair. Mediave's red-clad frame seemed to materialize, ghostly through the shadows. His eyes affixed on Nathaniel, lips carrying a seemingly bemused look. Given a moments look, RuHasu's silhouette became visible directly behind him, one hand gripping his weapon at the ready. "So fortuitus, to encounter either of you here now..." he spoke with a hint of a grin, seemingly hiding some mischief, though he could be mistaken for performing a good deed, given his timing. ""I'm curious to know, if I've met more than one fellow of the night, or should we return to the camp together?" His eyes drifted from Nathan to Orielle.
Sessou remained silent behind his new 'partner'. Something was or had been afoot in the forest before. They had passed quite the wrecked area on their way here. The samurai could feel all to well the new pain of the plant-life in that area, if it weren't obvious enough the damage was recent. He couldn't help but wonder now if this pair had a part in that farce.
Orrielle listened to his cruel words, so beautiful, so dangerous. She did not reply. She was aware that he was fighting his instincts, and his words were true; if she did not leave, she would likely come to a cold end in his cruel embrace. His honesty, however, took her by surprise. He was so averse to draining her of her elven blood, yet he had no issue finding an unfortunate human and doing the same to them? But perhaps it was no human he was targeting tonight. She knew not enough about vampires to know if he could be sustained on animal blood alone.
She was distracted from his cold beauty by the snap of a stick. Orrielle flicked her attention in that direction, eyes narrowed as she saw two other members of their party, newer members. Again she remained silent. She did not trust Mediave's playful tone any more than Nathaniel's oiled one, and Sessou had yet to say anything. She regarded the pair of them carefully before her gaze flickered back to the sillhouetted form of the vampire.
Inside the tent
Sylvièn stood still for a few moments pondering all of the things that had been happening over the last four days. First it was waking from her sleep because she could feel the movement of the Eye, then it was the Black dragon that tried to take her home, and now this. Lōren had always been prone to getting herself into a little bit of trouble, but this was different. Sylvièn knew that this was her fault. She had told Lōren to fly, but never specified where she should have gone, or what she should have done if…it mattered not now. She and Lōren were here now, and in the presence of humans that might know who and what they were…though, that was not the issue at hand. If there was perhaps a way that this druid knew about the Eye, then perhaps her task would be easier. Quickly, her thoughts passed, and she entered the tent as the vampire was leaving. At least he was gone now, Sylvièn did not approve of the way that his nature took over with her sister’s body in his arms, the way he was always looking at the pulsing at her neck. She kept in a low growl at the thought. Had he gone further…she quickly pushed the thought from her mind. Sitting down beside the body of her sister, Sylvièn pushed the hanging sleeves of her tunic out of the way, exposing her slightly pointed black nails. Her indigo eyes looked deep into the eyes of the Druid. “Whatever you need of me, I will give you my aid. Healing has always been…a gift of mine.” She looked back down to her sister, “After, there are other things I wish to speak with you about."
Outside the tent, in the camp:
Trifëan came walking out of the forest "how stupid of me to go after that rabbit" he hitted himselfonce on his face "stupid me"
he wandered into the camp watching for anything that could point out where this woman was taken to.
Inside the tent:
Lerectius accepted Sylvien's searching gaze, his eyes a soft golden hue that almost seemed to warm her from the inside out. There was a fatherly tenderness to his demeanour, an easiness to his quiet, knowing smile, and an acceptance of life and its pains written in the deep wrinkles of his face. They spoke of age, of wisdom, and of many, many smiles. Through this brief moment of exchanged glances, he communicated that he would not hurt her sister. "Yes," he said softly, turning his attention to Loren as Sylvien did so. He shuffled over to the water the young Endi had brought in, thanked the youth, and sent him away.
Rolling up his wide-cuffed white sleaves, he reached into the water, submerging a hankerchif. When he turned back to the sisters, he was wringing out the cloth in his weathered old hands. "The night is your time, Daughter of Sylvaine," he murmured as he knelt by Loren's form, gently easing the heavy cloak off of her body and carefully dabbing her wounds with the moist cloth. "Not mine." His smile was gentle, and he did not look up at Sylvien. "Do the best that you can for her, My Lady. It will be enough."
Sylvièn’s dark eyes searched the golden iris’s of the Druid knelt before the body of her sister. Looking down to Lōren, Sylvièn allowed a small smile to grace her features, at knowing that her sister had found some measure of safety. It was time. Laying a hand upon her sister’s chest, Sylvièn searched for that constant lull of her sister’s heartbeat. When she found it, it was all she could do to not breath a heavy sigh of relief. Before falling into a trance of sorts, Sylvièn looked again to the Druid. “I hope you are ready for this. Please, do not look directly into my eyes.” Pulling Lōren’s body close to her own, Sylvièn allowed her eyes to close and sought the fire within herself. Warmth began to slowly spread from within her, it was as a point of light within her soul had become ten times the brilliant radiance of the moon within her. It spread within her body, starting from her core and working outward. Her pale skin seemed to take on the light of the moon, even on this dark, moonless night. Finding the strength within herself, Sylvièn opened her eyes, allowing her Draconic soul to channel the magic of the ancient tongue. With the opening of her eyes, a soft, but harsh voice fell from her lips, and her eyes took on the look of her natural Draconic form.
Revered Goddess of the Moon…
Sylievã phánu aaesora ra Evarië havean, teih Sylievã phánu aaesora ra Khâyvien.
My sister…awaken…
As the words fell from Sylvièn’s lips the moonlight that graced her skin, fell away and her eyelids fluttered, returning her eyes to those that the Druid had seen before. Feeling Lōren’s body stir, Sylvièn allowed her body to relax. She looked again to the Druid. “With the end of night, my weakness comes, and with the coming of day, your strength will show.”
Lerectius Synn watched on, no sign of fear or incomprehension crossing his features. Again, he smiled his quiet understanding as she turned back to him. "Yes, My Lady, and I will keep your sister and yourself safe by day. Your Mistresses wishes it," gathering the Vampire's black cloak in his hands, the Druid folded it and set it aside. He then pulled off his long white cloak, leaving him wearing a silvery-white tunic, ivory breeches and a thick leather belt with many pouches containing herbs and the like. With a paternal gentleness, he wrapped Loren in the soft cloak. Then he straightened, fixing the Dragoness with his powerful golden eyes. "You spoke truly earlier. We have much to discuss." Extending a hand, he reclaimed the staff that he had left propped up against one of the support-poles of the tent.
As Lōrendàr opened her eyes and she paniced at the sight of the man in front of her and cried out in an other worldly voice, "Fia’là...!" as she sat up quickly. Then she noticed her sister and that she was no longer harmed and stopped in mid sentence. She looked around intently and seemed to calm down slightly and felt the cloak against her body. She looked at her sister What happened...? I was in a forest. I was sitting on a fallen tree. How did I end up here? Did you heal me? My arm is better. What happened? She had a confused expression on her face as she had the telepathic conversation with her sister. She kept looking at the man next to her from the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure if he was holding her hostage from her sister.
Sylvièn was so glad to hear her sister’s voice, and pulled her body close. After I had told you to flee our home, I fought and killed the one that was trying to take it from us. I then flew for three passes of the moon until I resorted to the magic. I sought you out, and found you. It was in the forest that you had fallen, and one of the dwellers of this camp took you up and was bringing you back to this one, nodding her head, and looking at the Druid before them The one that found you first said that this one would heal you. I followed him back here and the Druid allowed me to heal you. I have some clothing in my bag for you should you wish it. The sun will be upon us soon. You should rest sister. Worry not, you are safe here with me. Once again returning her attention to the druid. “I must thank you, and I do not even know your name. I am called Sylvièn, and this is my sister Lōren. I tell you this only because I sense that you know more than you let on. Please, I have some clothes for Lōren, and, is it alright if she dresses, and rests here for a time?”
"Your Ladyship is most welcome, this humble Druid simply did what he could," the enigmatic old man responded. "And if a name is what you wish, that can certainly be supplied. I am known as Lerectius Synn, High Druid of the Order of the Sun in Daelorèdēn." He took a bow that managed to both be graceful and clumsy at the same time. Gracefully clumsy, one would suppose, and wonder what to make of him. As he straightened he lifted his staff, showing her the ring of his stature that is etched into his staff. It is a small, golden circlet that was a delicately sculpted dragon that wrapped itself around his staff just below the joint where the crystal was embedded, there for anyone to see. Few knew it's significance, but he knew that Sylvien would. "Both your sister and yourself may occupy my tent, and rest, until dawn. Then our company rides." Then followed a brief explanation of how they were travelling to Lathiron to attend the funeral of the late Queen Aria of Eisyden. "She was a good woman," he said, demeanour growing soft and sad, "with a good heart." 'Twas then that he paused, studying first Sylvien, and then her sister, holding them with his intense golden eyes as he wondered how much to tell them. And how much they knew already.
Handing her sister some clothing Sylvién, waited until Lōren had moved to one side of the tent to put her clothing on before she turned back to the one named Lerectius. Her eyes were tired, and her body weak from not only healing her sister but for flying three days, and fighting off the other dragon. She had not slept in almost a week, and that was long, even for one such as herself. “Forgive me if I do not stand, I fear that I do not have the strength. However, I wish to hear of what you know, about me and Lōren, as well as why we might be here.” She paused to take a calming breath. “I do not mean to be rude or sound harsh, but I need to know that we are safe here.” She looked again to the circlet around the Druid’s staff. He was in high standing with the Sun God, which meant that he might know of the Eye. Realizing that there would really be no other time to discuss this, and looked up back into Lerectius’ eyes, “What do you know of the Eye of the Dragon, Druid of the Sun?”
In the forest, a small distance from the camp:
Nathaniel's feral red gaze slid from Mediave, then to Sessou, before it returned to linger briefly on Orrielle. It crossed his mind that he should leave Orrielle with them, using their appearance to help him shed her company... but he trusted Mediave's smirk less than he trusted himself, even in this state of Thirst. He sighed a sigh of aristocratic annoyance, uncrossed his arms and bridged the distance between himself and Orrielle in a few casual steps. When he reached her, he offered her a self-contained and fang-less smile, as well as his arm in a polite, gracious, and almost courtly gesture. Using a great deal of self control, the dangerous fire began to fade from the Vampire's eyes. "Fortuitous indeed," his smooth voice intoned, "Let us return to the relative safety of the fire-lit camp, shall we?" His words were a suggestion aimed at Orrielle, referring back to their previous conversation. The shadows were thick, still, in the volume of his black hair.
Sessou wondered curiously, why Mediave pulled him into this. It was odd, given their meeting, but something else caught his wonder as well. He relieved the hilt of his sword and drew both hands before him, resting them comfortably within his sleeves, against his stomach. Quickening his pace, fractionally, he strode passed Mediave and towards the other two, approaching the free side of the Lady Orrielle. "I was curious, Mediave here, and myself, had passed a rather destructive clearing not too long ago. Have either of you seen anything strange?" His words were calm and gentle, matched equally by the expression holding his face.
Orrielle watched the three men guardedly, trusting none of them explicitely. One she knew was on the verge of murder, the others she had not yet met, but they did not look exactly trustworthy. She spent equal amounts of time focusing on each of them, not letting any one claim all of her attention until they spoke. Nathaniel was the first to say something, and she continued watching him with the same expression as she replied, "Safety is a relative term, Lord Nathaniel. I have come to the conclusion that it would be very difficult indeed to find a place that was truly safe. Does it really make a difference, whether we are here or there?" Although her gaze slid to Sessou when he spoke, she did not answer him. She knew not enough about the clearing to speak of it.
Outside the tent, in the camp:
Trifëan kept searchign around but eventually asked some guard sitting against a trunk of lone tree eating his bread.
"sir do you know where they went with this new wounded girl, and some other women?"
"you need to go to lerectius if you wanne see them."the man said with a wink."
"that's not ... ah keep your thoughts to you self"
trifëan said with disgust then walked away to the tent of lerectius.
"Sir lerectius"? can i come in? i was near the accident!"
standing in front of the tent that should be the one of lecrectius..
Joslyn seeing that she not needed anytime soon or really ever, she went back to her own fire. After dousing it, she wrapped her cloak around her thin frame as tight as it would permit. Sitting down against a tree, she flipped the hood up, tucked her legs under her, indian style,and seeming closed her eyes.
[Please remember to keep a line break here - before the bold message. Thank you]
OOC: Alright, I think we're getting a little off track, so here's a little refresher!
Lerectius’s golden eyes moved from Sivart and his weapon, to De’Marko and his katana, then came to rest on the apparently unarmed Vampire Nathaniel. To their great surprise, he smiled warmly. "If some answers is what you wish, some answers is what you shall get." For a moment the old man considered going off an a wonderful, personal little rant on the search of knowledge, but took one look at their drawn weapons and decided against it.
The druid lifted his age marked hand and spread his fingers, revealing to all those in the room a silver and black amulet the size of his palm. Taking the chain between his thumb and forefinger, he let fall the amulet and held it aloft by its simple silvered chain. They could now see that the amulet was of two dragons entwined together. One, a black dragon with a ruby inset as it’s eye, was exquisitely detailed while the other seemed unfinished, marred.
"This," he said, lifting his voice for all, mortal and otherwise, to hear, "Is the Amulet of Lorkethen." The tone of is voice built up the magic and grandeur of the amulet, which he promptly ruined by adding in an undertone; "Or half of it anyway." But as he continued, his voice lowering, they found that all of their attention was drawn to each word that the ancient druid spoke. "This is the key to eternal life. It is the key to the Eye of the Dragon; an ancient artifact of godly powers and a horrible price. This can give immortal life and the power of the God of the Night, Lorken Himself, to whoever dares to find it. This is the key. This is the map."
He paused then, his hand lowering slowly, his eyes intensely studying each and every face as expressions were suppressed or allowed to cross features of different ethnicity. "This," he said finally to Nathaniel, "Is what you want." It was not a question.
Nathaniel’s dark eyes betrayed no emotion, but a hunger was growing within him. He could almost taste the power of the amulet. He could feel it. He craved it, but his response was simple and he leaned casually back against the doorframe, his tall and lean body silhouetted in darkness. His lips quirked in agreement and his eyes glowed. "That among..." He glanced unsubtly in Eloren’s direction, his black eyes sizing her up unashamedly, "other things."
- These posts were taken from Helis3
Do we remember the amulet now? It is with Lerectius, and the whole point of our little party is to go to Lathiron *points at map* to talk to someone who can decipher the map that is the amulet! So we can find the Eye of the Dragon! And save the world or whatever - that's personal. We've established that, in Lathiron, we're looking for two women called Mistresses Valhalla and Asydena. There is also a funeral going on in Lathiron - the funeral of the recently deceased Queen Aria of Eisyden. That is why Prince Tehnosed of Endir is riding to Lathiron. We're hitching a ride with him.
Now, my lovelies, let's get this RP moving again! XD *cracks whip*
Players:
* [Mira Ravenheart]/ Lerectius
* [Crimson Mistress]/ Eloren Khayvien / Tenosehd
* [Crimson Mistress]/ Nathaniel Mahrkonr
* [Lady_Elowyn]/ Orrielle
* [Sivart the Swordsman]/ Sivart the Swordsman
* [Angelous_Draven]/ Van De'Marko [-pending-]
* [Prater]/ Joslyn
* [Shadow Reaper]/ Tuviel
* [Eglagrodion]/ Trifëan Blackeye
* [Dark Adherent]/ Sessou Seitou / Mediave
* [Firous]/ Lōrendàr Fàhlen
* [K'jesrya]/ Sylvièn Lievã Nanrehn
* [Demetrius Duvalt] / Demetrius
Return to:
EotD Index
Ymladris
Ymladris2
Ymladris3
Ymladris4
Ymladris5
Ymladris6
Eisyden, travelling
Eisyden, travelling2
Ecalos
Ecalos, the Inn
The Haunted Inn
The Haunted Inn 2
The Haunted Inn 3
The Haunted Inn 4
The Haunted Inn 5
Helis
Helis2
Helis3
Goodmorning Helis
Desert Lands
Desert Lands2
This RP is officially closed
[Mira Ravenheart] doesn't have enough time or patience to keep it up and running.
It might start again at a later date.
Stumble!