View Single Post
Old 06-28-2001, 07:52 PM   #26
Silver Dragon

Join Date: March 14, 2001
Location: Agharti. Mountains of Madness
Posts: 1,673
The guard looks up at the sorcerer through a veil of blood and sweat that constantly stings his eyes and screams again. Where is he? the elf asks politly. Let me guess you dont know that either, Jabidas sighs and slashs the soldiers other ear off. The guardsman starts screaming and crying again and the sorcerer waits until he finishs. Let me make this a little bit more simple for you, Im bored and Im about ready to kill you and move on regardless of no new information so unless you start telling me things i do want to know, ill kill you slow, if I think your lying Ill kill you slow and oh when your finished Ill at least kill you fast but then you knew from the start there was no way you were going to get out of this. The guard starts yelling franticaly and screaming about their staregys and people he knows and jabidas cuts his throat. His blood covers the elfs hand, it has a warmth and texture to it that feels different to normal blood, jabidas cant quite place it and mutters boring conversation anyway.
Soldiers burst down the door and Jabidas recognises the detail about the mans blood spelled so an alarm would go if he died, when the dust clears the soldiers hear mocking laughter drift away quickly around a corner.

Jabidas has quite forgotten how long hes been wandering around dusty grey hall where nothing moves, rooms adorn both sides inside old wooden bedchambers mainly lost to dry rot, dark inside with the customary stale air. The Elfs whimsical nature lets him wanders into one of them again. This isnt destroyed like the others an old mage sits in a chair, the lines on his face speak of old arrogance broken now though, failed dreams and whiskey. Around him are books and mirrors covered in dust. The room is intact, it looks as old as the mage himself, he looks like the last of a generation long gone, unremembered by the people of today, left to die as the world pushed on. Jabidas knew if he started talking to him he would only recieve storys of times long forgotten, not that they would even be true instead twisted reflections of the truth through a fading mind that can only recall feelings of what it thought which make that time truly forgotten and for all anyone knew may never even of happened. The sorcerer realises the mage dosnt know hes there and wishs that something would find him before he goes insane or dies of thirst. Jabidas moves to the books and sighs perhaps there is something he can learn.


[This message has been edited by jabidas (edited 06-28-2001).]
jabidas is offline