Ironworks Gaming Forum - View Single Post - Part 5>>>The Shadow of Love (an LoF adventure)

Cyril Darkcloud · 03-05-2005, 06:17 PM

Elsewhere – A place where the Sky is terribly close

The pain is great, and his body moves with reluctance. But movement with pain is a thing he knows well. Painlessness is a thing for the gods, but pain, that is the province of men, and whatever others might call him, he is but a man, a man well accustomed to pain. He knows nothing of the woman’s cry, lifted as if a prayer into the winds of the distant land of IronWorks, for such a cry cannot reach him here nor would he have listened to its words had it arrived. For here but one thing matters and that is the claim of the Scattering and he will spare not the smallest amount of his attention for anything else. He rises stiffly to his feet, but he rises all the same, despite the great blows of the giant. Already the giant has begun to turn in his direction his features drawn tight in anger and surprise and the struggle simply to breathe. It is but a matter of two long strides, mere seconds for the giant to close so small a distance as this, but much can happen in the span of a second, let alone several.

The features of the giant fall away as his eyes focus to look only at movement and ignore all other things. With a single step he begins to move along to the pattern of the wind, for one does not control the wind, one enters it, feels its freedom and moves. The Stormreaver has fallen some distance away and so there is nothing to slow the pouring out of life from his body to mingle with the wind. He has, perhaps, little more than scant health within his limbs, but the crass calculations of self-preservation are a coward’s way and he will not flee from death for the sake of living a straw life. And, indeed, flight of any kind is not possible here where death is the necessary outcome. His burned fingers seize the handle of the axe which hangs from his belt, an axe well-balanced and kept sharp for moments such as this. There is a song within the wind, a song of death, and he moves in time to the song. His lungs fill with air and a word froms on his lips. "Neh'fesh," his voice is cold and his gesture is sudden and violent and the axe flies outward from his hand toward the giant .........

[ 03-05-2005, 06:20 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

03-05-2005, 06:17 PM	#236
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	Elsewhere – A place where the Sky is terribly close The pain is great, and his body moves with reluctance. But movement with pain is a thing he knows well. Painlessness is a thing for the gods, but pain, that is the province of men, and whatever others might call him, he is but a man, a man well accustomed to pain. He knows nothing of the woman’s cry, lifted as if a prayer into the winds of the distant land of IronWorks, for such a cry cannot reach him here nor would he have listened to its words had it arrived. For here but one thing matters and that is the claim of the Scattering and he will spare not the smallest amount of his attention for anything else. He rises stiffly to his feet, but he rises all the same, despite the great blows of the giant. Already the giant has begun to turn in his direction his features drawn tight in anger and surprise and the struggle simply to breathe. It is but a matter of two long strides, mere seconds for the giant to close so small a distance as this, but much can happen in the span of a second, let alone several. The features of the giant fall away as his eyes focus to look only at movement and ignore all other things. With a single step he begins to move along to the pattern of the wind, for one does not control the wind, one enters it, feels its freedom and moves. The Stormreaver has fallen some distance away and so there is nothing to slow the pouring out of life from his body to mingle with the wind. He has, perhaps, little more than scant health within his limbs, but the crass calculations of self-preservation are a coward’s way and he will not flee from death for the sake of living a straw life. And, indeed, flight of any kind is not possible here where death is the necessary outcome. His burned fingers seize the handle of the axe which hangs from his belt, an axe well-balanced and kept sharp for moments such as this. There is a song within the wind, a song of death, and he moves in time to the song. His lungs fill with air and a word froms on his lips. "Neh'fesh," his voice is cold and his gesture is sudden and violent and the axe flies outward from his hand toward the giant ......... [ 03-05-2005, 06:20 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]