Ironworks Gaming Forum - View Single Post - Tavern by the Creek (The Curses) Part III

Cyril Darkcloud · 03-14-2002, 12:24 AM

The violent purple of her gaze stuns him with its intensity, and his own eyes brim for a moment with tears. A tense but relieved smile flashes across his face. “Fighting is useless here – one does not control the Wind. No, this is but a small voice that feeds and grows with the attention you give it.” Gathering the folds of his cloak around her with his free hand, he whispers, “KayLisa, protect.” As the cloak enfolds her body with its protective warmth, he speaks softly as he touches the clasp, “Your mind will be isolated for a few moments.” A mantle of storm clouds stretches itself across her thoughts, the soft and living rumble of distant thunder rising against the mocking whispers of the Devourer’s voice. Softly he chants in the strange and ancient dialect of the stormsong and the air around her exposed face gusts into violent movement. “Sof’ya,” he says, holding her eyes with his own, “open your mouth but do not breathe, nor even exhale. Let the living air breathe for you.”

The gathered gusts rush with sudden violence past her nose and mouth pulling the very air from her lungs and throat in their wake. Placing his hands along the sides of her head, he holds her still as he continues the chant and the gusts continue their rushing flight. His tone softens and the movement of the wind shifts, taking on a slower and fuller presence over her face. “Breathe now,” he says, “as I do.” The free and living air moves slowly and quietly in time with her breathing, filling her lungs and easing the burning within her throat. He touches the clasp once more, opening her mind to the silence of her own breathing and the feel of his hands along her face.

[ 03-14-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

03-14-2002, 12:24 AM	#48
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	The violent purple of her gaze stuns him with its intensity, and his own eyes brim for a moment with tears. A tense but relieved smile flashes across his face. “Fighting is useless here – one does not control the Wind. No, this is but a small voice that feeds and grows with the attention you give it.” Gathering the folds of his cloak around her with his free hand, he whispers, “KayLisa, protect.” As the cloak enfolds her body with its protective warmth, he speaks softly as he touches the clasp, “Your mind will be isolated for a few moments.” A mantle of storm clouds stretches itself across her thoughts, the soft and living rumble of distant thunder rising against the mocking whispers of the Devourer’s voice. Softly he chants in the strange and ancient dialect of the stormsong and the air around her exposed face gusts into violent movement. “Sof’ya,” he says, holding her eyes with his own, “open your mouth but do not breathe, nor even exhale. Let the living air breathe for you.” The gathered gusts rush with sudden violence past her nose and mouth pulling the very air from her lungs and throat in their wake. Placing his hands along the sides of her head, he holds her still as he continues the chant and the gusts continue their rushing flight. His tone softens and the movement of the wind shifts, taking on a slower and fuller presence over her face. “Breathe now,” he says, “as I do.” The free and living air moves slowly and quietly in time with her breathing, filling her lungs and easing the burning within her throat. He touches the clasp once more, opening her mind to the silence of her own breathing and the feel of his hands along her face. [ 03-14-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ] __________________ One does not control the Wind. One enters it, feels its freedom. And moves.