OOC>>>He's cool by me! We always will be in need of a good jester, or something to throw at the dragon while we run away... ;)

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey

Hoping that nobody would call him for watch, Brendon made an area for his camp. He cleared off some brush and rocks upon a nice area, and set his gear down. Unrolling the sleeping bag he had, and then digging through his adventuring pack to find a pillow, Brendon was now ready for some good slumber. He had never been so tired! It had been a long, day...starting this expedition, almost getting eaten by an armadillo...and now ready to enter the caverns of certain death. What a life! Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah! The Hunger. The terrible beast that dwelt in the ground upon the ruined land of the Mad One. Why was he mad? Was it anger mad or crazy mad?

These thoughts entertained Brendon while he began drifting quickly into sleep. It was funny. The blowing wind sounded almost like laughter from very far away in this almost asleep period. He smiled to himself at the mind's imagination. Then he was asleep.</font>

ooc: I have no problem with Dankorona either. In fact, I'd be willing to help in any funny business. Just let me know what you have planned, and I'll go along with it as best as I can.

<font color=lightgreen>Syrathic climbed some of the nearby rocks, taking this moment to look back at the land he had came from. He knew he might not see the surface again, and he wanted to at least take a memory with him to his grave.

He began to wander a little ways, keeping himself well within Human eyesight of the camp. His Elven footsteps left no trace of his passage and his soft footfalls made no sound as he walked. He longed for days gone past, where he walked among the greenest grass and in the branches of the highest trees. He would even settle for the most recent past, when he lived among the human rangers, whose appreciation of nature was much like his own.

The elf finally settled on a rock high above the camp, and he sat down there, taking in the stars. They were covered by the clouds above him, but in the distant night sky, he could see them. Many nights they were his only campanions, their light the only joy he had. The starlight had protected him once, on a day not so long ago in Elven reckoning. "And to think that I'm but a child still in the eyes of my people," he thought. "But I have had to grow up quickly, or else, how could I have survived my journeys?"

He began to sing softly, singing a verse that formed in his heart. It was in the Common tongue, not in the Elven, inspired by his time with the Human rangers. It was comforting to him, but who knew what anyone else would think?

<font color=white>"To the Night Sky, a dear mother, a dear friend
I know not where I may travel, nor to what end
But I hope that you see, and your love send
I seek guidance, and your strength to lend
I pray my heart and your light together blend
And the hurts that I have taken shall one day mend
For you alone know why my heart is now rend
And you alone shall ever to my plight tend..." </font>

He continued on with the melody, using a wordless verse. He smiled and felt better, the worry of the impending trek into the darkness lessened. His gaze became more alert, and he almost wished for a bow in case enemies appeared. Not that it would do him any good. As the rangers were fond to say of him, "He would shoot you in the foot if given a bow," the reason being that he was good enough to avoid shooting himself in the foot, but everyone else's was fair game. That's why he had taken up the use of throwing knives. But he was currently out, having used the last of them trekking to the treehouse which had started this whole grand adventure. "I'll find more," he thought as he smiled, and continued with his soft singing. </font>

ooc: Sorry about this being so long. I had a bit of inspiration from my muse. Hope no one minds.

<font color=silver>ooc: <font color=lightgreen>Lord Starshadow</font> - There is never a need to apologize for good writing. [img]graemlins/thumbsup.gif[/img] In fact, one of the reasons the pace of the thread is a bit measured is to allow people the chance to develop their characters.</font>

<font color=white>Zhydo’rah</font>

<font color=orchid>The day is done and darkness fall like a shroud over the last fading blush of light. Even the stars are muted and the silence of dusk hangs heavy and thick with the gathered doubts of those who seek to rest. Indeed, the cares of the morrow are wakeful tonight and in the unspoken recesses of several hearts they find their voice and call through the silence. Out of these hearts and into the gloom the wordless call of vaguely formed fears moves seeking the touch of one who might give shape to their vagueness. Eyes glowing with an infernal heat flash suddenly brighter. Long years of tormenting the unending dreams of the slumbering dead have left her hungry for the intense flavor of those terrors that haunt the brief and urgent slumbers of the living. Even the great steed at her side snorts its eagerness to answer the calling of the fears. Stretching a wrinkled hand out through the flames which serve as the beast’s mane she restrains it. Soon. Soon but not quite yet for there is still far too much wakefulness among them. For now it is simply theirs to savor the mingled scent of fear and brimstone and to allow it to whet the appetite.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: <font color=lime>Ruby</font> - As the psychically sensitive character you get the fun of sensing something disturbing. It is difficult to define the feeling but there seems to be a hint of the unnatural and the unclean about it.</font>

setteling down beside wyrd, rubys sits, pensive. a notable shiver runs trhough her body. she places her new sword carefully down onto her bedroll. reaching into her pack she pulls out a bag. from that pack she also draws out a tiny cage, small scratching noises can be heard coming from it. she opens the top and pulls out a mouse. wyrd seems to know this game. she releases the mouse on the ground and wyrd let's it go a little ways, before he jumps and chooses to stalk the poor creature.

ruby now picks up her sword and holds it carefully. she draws it out of it's scabbard and starts polishing the sharp blade. small nicks come out easily in her thorough hands. but the shivers continue. soon becoming trembling. wonce she is sure the sword knows she appreciates it's company she carefully puts it away.

she stand up and goes to the fire carrying her pack and bag. she pulls out of her pack small cooking supplies and her waterskin. she makes a quick bean soup for herself and eats only about half. her trembling has left most of what she's tried to eat on the ground.

wyrd comes padding back looking refreshed and happy at his small hunt. now ruby looks at him and smiles. she walks away fromt eh fire with wyrd following behind. passing her bedroll she gets to the very edge of the firelight and reaches into her bag. she pulls out something large that wyrd seems very interested in. she leave it on the ground in front of him and then also pulls out another small bag. she feeds something out of the smaller bag directly to wyrd from her hand. then he gets down to devouring the now apprently large peice of meat in front of him.

she walks back to her bedroll and sits down carefully. she places all that she has gotten out back in her pack. she tries to still her tembling with some light meditation and humming, but she just can't get the right melody. she hears the song being sung by the elf, and wonders at what story there is behind his hidden eyes. she wonders if it is similar to hers, wonders if there is a past pain that makes him seek to be alone in the company of others.

noe the trembling seems to no longer be getting worse, and just stays at it's current level. ruby feels something, unnatural, inhuman. something she hopes to never feel again and begins to be desperate to make it go away. wyrd comes back and begins to groom by the bedroll. ruby knows that petting him will not make it go away. she knows that she will get little sleep tonight, and will most likely end up getting sick.

[ 11-08-2002, 09:27 AM: Message edited by: RevRuby ]

OOC>>>Is everyone bedded down for the night?

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey

*(Dream sequence)*

The laughter followed him through the world of dreams. It was not the wind at all. It was a cruel, sinister sneer that was felt like a misty fog about him. Brendon tried to ignore it, then tried to flee from it. He had his bow with him. He fired into the night, but heard the arrow find no landing. He was in panic. He began to run, but the misty fog continued to linger about him. He stopped and shouted, finally tired of this game. When he did so, he was answered. <font color=steelblue>"Brendon Grey! An interesting man you are!"</font> "Who are you??? Why do you haunt me???"<font color=steelblue>"Find a diamond, Brendon. Find a diamond. You'll need it, someday. Keep is safe!"</font> "What? Why? Who are you??? Is this a dream???"

Behind Brendon, a low rumble was heard. It did not take him long to realize that there was a creature of great strength behind him, and he was too afraid to move. He dared not even turn around to see it. Yet, he could hear it breathing, sniffing him, and could feel it's icy glare upon his back. He shivered involuntarily, but could not find strength to face it. Instead, Brendon closed his eyes and waited.</font>

<font color="skyblue">"I will be happy to help you in any way I can", Zachary answers. "What's on your mind?"

Zachary hadn't been able to hear the exchange between the paladin and the lady with the stranger mount, but he could tell it hadn't been friendly. Perhaps she had reminded him of an incident from his past, before he lost his god's favor.

Well, whatever was troubling him, Zachary was going to do his best to help.</font>

<font color=white>Terrakis</font>

<font color=gray>The smooth black stone has been cut from the walls of Adalon’s lair and the great slabs are carried with greater care than the objects of the dragon’s horde which are rudely thrust into enormous sacks to be dragged away. “Tell the stonecutters and smiths to make ready,” Terrakis says to the giant at his side. “For I will brook no delay and will tolerate no failure.”

The messenger steps quickly out into the lightless corridor, his form blending seamlessly into the darkness as he does so. At a signal from Terrakis, the remaining giants leave the lair and all becomes still in this place where the blood of an ancient and noble creature is left to seep quietly into the ground.</font>

<font color=white>The Ravine</font>

<font color=cadetblue>The dragon struggled mightily, if futilely, against the giants expending the full scope of its power, both magical and otherwise. Such power even from so great a distance was sufficient to attract the terrible consuming emptiness. It reached blindly but surely outward after the life that had expended so much energy and as the last desperate scream left the dragon’s throat, the Hunger seized this life. And as the spirit of the fallen Adalon is consumed by the emptiness the storms within the ravine burst into thunderous violence and lightnings dance to the clapping of the thunderheads.</font>

<font color=white>Elsewhere – Beyond and beneath the fields we know</font>

<font color=cadetblue>The air in this place of tombs and graves is air that has grown still and heavy with the stink of death. But within this dead and stagnant air there is an undercurrent of mocking whispers, a draft whose tendrils reach into even the darkest and most forgotten corners until it has touched every current and pocket of air with its desecrating embrace. This place of tombs and graves is a lightless and soundless place, but within this silent darkness is a laughter that is terribly old.</font>

OOC>>>Yep...I am definately worried now. Yep.