Tavern by the creek Part II (The Storms) (all welcome) - Page 6

Cyril Darkcloud · 02-23-2002, 06:29 PM

OOC: Great to have you back!

THE TAVERN

Shadowhound

The large room is strangely still – there is not even the sound of mugs being cleaned at the bar – and at first it seems that the building is empty. There is sound and movement within the place, however – faint sounds of men and women huddled under tables, trembling and exhausted. Their faces are filled with terror, and it would seem, more than one has lost his sanity. The air in here is stale and heavy with the scent of decay – there is something dangerous about this air. Even as the amulet begins to glow, you feel your own fears beginning to rise within you and a terrible whisper speaking in your mind:

Yes! O yes! Please do come in .....

OOC: Hope this helps get things rolling for you....

I have to go offline a while now, and I think TAO's pretty busy this weekend as well. I'll try to get back on later with another tavern post.

[ 02-23-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

TAOWolf · 02-24-2002, 01:10 AM

TAVERN

The stone on the amulet flashes once, twice......Inside the stone, a mist swirls........two faces not yet recognizable begin to surface......

TAOWolf · 02-24-2002, 01:24 AM

She grasps his hands tight, and looks him square in the eyes...."I embrace hope, and you. Thru you I will find hope, and thru hope I will face my despair and rage against it, until there is no longer despair, only hope......and you, mo na luaidhean gaoth cruinnich, (my beloved wind gatherer, in her ancient dialect of gaelic), and yes I will be your a' bhean, (woman).......". She smiles at him, a smile full of promise and hope. She gently pulls him to her, and lays her cheek against his, and whispers....."the 'spioradail de madadh' (spirit of wolf) now belongs to you....."

TAOWolf · 02-24-2002, 09:46 PM

TAVERN

The storms gather outside the village and tavern, the creek rising to flood levels, but not overspilling just yet.......the storms wait....

Cyril Darkcloud · 02-24-2002, 11:41 PM

OOC: I'm liking the Gaelic.

He holds her then, his pulse, having quickened once at her words, does so again at the press of her cheek against his own. “Sofya [sof-YA],” he whispers in delight and relief, “Sofya ush’a ha’shama’im. I have named you rightly.” Silently, he allows his breathing to speak this name and the winds begin to move once more. “Sofya,” turning her face to his, he whispers again breathing the name as his lips find hers, kissing her gently.

He takes the locket from her and places it around his neck. “That night, after the unsaying of my name, my life was to have been borne away from my people and my daughter never to return – scattered in these lands where life happens far from the sky. I would live safely and alone and they would be kept safe from the terrible Devouring Wind that claimed my wife and preyed upon my people. But even as the great Exiling Wind began to seize me, I turned and, moving in that very wind, embraced my daughter. But one does not control the wind, one is embraced by its swiftness and moves, and if one would change the moving of the wind, one must change within himself. In doing this, I changed the movement of the Exiling Wind and pulled upon myself the fullest extent of its curse – all so that she might be my daughter again.”

He has picked up the storm-reaver and stands holding the axe with both hands. The gathering clouds have grown black and swollen to the point of explosion and a terribly ancient wind drives all other air from the hilltop. He fixes his eyes on KayLisa as the presence of the wind intensifies, making it difficult for her even to breathe and move *** no weather control of any kind works here ***. “Tonight,” he says in a whisper which reaches her ears from several directions at once, “My movement within the Exiling Wind has changed again. But one does not control the wind, one is embraced by its swiftness and moves, and if one would change the moving of the wind, one must change himself.” He falls to his knees with a gasp calling out the name he has given her – Sofya, Sofya ush’a ha’shama’im and his life and health begin to flow out of his body and through the axe to mingle with the wind.

[ 02-25-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

TAOWolf · 02-24-2002, 11:56 PM

Although she cannot move, her mind races, feeling him mingle with the wind......The sword at her belt, the ancient SpiritSword, one of only two such soul-reaver swords left in this world, starts to glow. The runes carved down the blade shine thru the scabbard a bright red, as if blood. The sword has felt a soul free in the wind, and answers.......singing its ancient song in time to the gales of the wind, a sound so pure, so song itself would kill hundreds if heard in any other place than this......its awaits patiently, awaits an answer..............waiting for this soul to merge with it and become one with the other souls imbibed in the blade, or to return to its body.................

Cyril Darkcloud · 02-25-2002, 12:24 AM

He kneels clutching the axe, his head bent skyward as he intones a chant in his native tongue. The wind violently enfolds his body, almost lifting him from the ground. His hands burn with the flowing of his life into the wind. Despite the pain in his searing hands, he continues to chant....

There is another here – a thirst on the edge of the wind. Something that would taste my life .... Let it thirst, then, for that is all it can do -- nothing may drink from the wind .... But there is only one other here ..... Later ....

A peacefulness slowly comes over his features and the movement of the wind begins to change. Still violent, it moves around him differently and the rushing away of his life begins to slow. He ceases the chant and begins to breathe deeply the wind that has mingled with his life. Several long minutes pass before he rises unsteadily to his feet and the violence of the wind recedes leaving only his weakness. ~It is done ... She will be safe.

[ 02-25-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

Neb · 02-25-2002, 10:27 AM

quote:
Originally posted by Cyril Darkcloud:
THE TAVERN

The Dead Wind begins to focus it attention on Neb ....

Such an intensity of rage and madness in that one! So powerful a mind, so easily provoked to violence! I simply must know more ....

The stale air stirs slightly around the psionic and whispered thoughts seek entry into his mind.

Neb twitches as he seeks to resist the presence attempting to intrude upon his mind, he diverts all of his mental resources to block it out but in doing so he lets the bloodlust of his growing insanity consume his consciousness for the time being.

Hacking right and left Neb cleaves a path through those in the Tavern, his mental defenses against the Dead Win growing weaker by the second, in the end, they fall.

The psionic lets go of his blade and falls to his knees, clutching his head, at the mercy of the Dead Wind.

Cyril Darkcloud · 02-25-2002, 03:14 PM

THE TAVERN

The whispers of the wind recoil a moment, surprised at the vigor with which the psionic defends his mind. Never do they cease their speaking, however. Soon the decaying air itself fills his lungs – each heavy breath he draws in his bloodlust pulling more of the wind into his body. The whispers never grow louder but the insistence of their speaking builds in intensity until finally even his breathing is in time to the cadences of their speech. The wind feeds from his bloodlust gathering the cries of those he slays into itself, claiming even their final breaths for its own.

Such a marvelous creature, this one. O Yes! Yes, indeed. A pity not to have played with you longer -- such a formidable mind you possess ...... but there really is no protection against your need for breath, is there? .... and such burning there is in your dreams ..... Why you have another’s terror growing within your mind! And such a terror – a terror of souls ripped from their bodies, souls that might one day be loosed from their prison ... O! Such a fear as this I have not tasted in a very long time .... and then there is your own fear of the madness that claims you .... let us listen a moment – hear its voices, voices that may well never leave you alone again ..... And those you have so recently murdered here -- they are within me now .... O! Such an unexpected feast -- to taste souls again! .... Hear them call to you, these whom you have sent to a very final and painful ending ....

But what is this? This outsider’s terror you carry – it belongs to a woman whom you would kill, a woman who is with him! .... O! The gift you have given me, my friend, this is even more delicious than the taste of your mind! ..... Perhaps, I shall speed you to them ..... yes .... but it is so difficult to part with a mind as rich as yours .....

oc: Neb, I hope this does justice to your character. If not let me know and I’ll change the post.

[ 02-25-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

shadowhound · 02-25-2002, 05:54 PM

Shadowhound slowly walks through the tavern looking around. He pulls out a short sword "Neb are you in here, there is some weird crap happining and i am starting to freak out here." Shadowhound heres whispers of voices past spoken, he looks pale and nervous, unsure and panicy.

02-25-2002, 12:24 AM	#57
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	He kneels clutching the axe, his head bent skyward as he intones a chant in his native tongue. The wind violently enfolds his body, almost lifting him from the ground. His hands burn with the flowing of his life into the wind. Despite the pain in his searing hands, he continues to chant.... There is another here – a thirst on the edge of the wind. Something that would taste my life .... Let it thirst, then, for that is all it can do -- nothing may drink from the wind .... But there is only one other here ..... Later .... A peacefulness slowly comes over his features and the movement of the wind begins to change. Still violent, it moves around him differently and the rushing away of his life begins to slow. He ceases the chant and begins to breathe deeply the wind that has mingled with his life. Several long minutes pass before he rises unsteadily to his feet and the violence of the wind recedes leaving only his weakness. ~It is done ... She will be safe. [ 02-25-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ] __________________ One does not control the Wind. One enters it, feels its freedom. And moves.

02-25-2002, 10:27 AM	#58
Neb Account deleted by Request Join Date: May 17, 2001 Location: . Age: 39 Posts: 8,802	quote: Originally posted by Cyril Darkcloud: THE TAVERN The Dead Wind begins to focus it attention on Neb .... Such an intensity of rage and madness in that one! So powerful a mind, so easily provoked to violence! I simply must know more .... The stale air stirs slightly around the psionic and whispered thoughts seek entry into his mind. Neb twitches as he seeks to resist the presence attempting to intrude upon his mind, he diverts all of his mental resources to block it out but in doing so he lets the bloodlust of his growing insanity consume his consciousness for the time being. Hacking right and left Neb cleaves a path through those in the Tavern, his mental defenses against the Dead Win growing weaker by the second, in the end, they fall. The psionic lets go of his blade and falls to his knees, clutching his head, at the mercy of the Dead Wind.

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02-23-2002, 06:29 PM	#51
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	OOC: Great to have you back! THE TAVERN Shadowhound The large room is strangely still – there is not even the sound of mugs being cleaned at the bar – and at first it seems that the building is empty. There is sound and movement within the place, however – faint sounds of men and women huddled under tables, trembling and exhausted. Their faces are filled with terror, and it would seem, more than one has lost his sanity. The air in here is stale and heavy with the scent of decay – there is something dangerous about this air. Even as the amulet begins to glow, you feel your own fears beginning to rise within you and a terrible whisper speaking in your mind: Yes! O yes! Please do come in ..... OOC: Hope this helps get things rolling for you.... I have to go offline a while now, and I think TAO's pretty busy this weekend as well. I'll try to get back on later with another tavern post. [ 02-23-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

02-24-2002, 01:10 AM	#52
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	TAVERN The stone on the amulet flashes once, twice......Inside the stone, a mist swirls........two faces not yet recognizable begin to surface......

02-24-2002, 01:24 AM	#53
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	She grasps his hands tight, and looks him square in the eyes...."I embrace hope, and you. Thru you I will find hope, and thru hope I will face my despair and rage against it, until there is no longer despair, only hope......and you, mo na luaidhean gaoth cruinnich, (my beloved wind gatherer, in her ancient dialect of gaelic), and yes I will be your a' bhean, (woman).......". She smiles at him, a smile full of promise and hope. She gently pulls him to her, and lays her cheek against his, and whispers....."the 'spioradail de madadh' (spirit of wolf) now belongs to you....."

02-24-2002, 09:46 PM	#54
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	TAVERN The storms gather outside the village and tavern, the creek rising to flood levels, but not overspilling just yet.......the storms wait....

02-24-2002, 11:41 PM	#55
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	OOC: I'm liking the Gaelic. He holds her then, his pulse, having quickened once at her words, does so again at the press of her cheek against his own. “Sofya [sof-YA],” he whispers in delight and relief, “Sofya ush’a ha’shama’im. I have named you rightly.” Silently, he allows his breathing to speak this name and the winds begin to move once more. “Sofya,” turning her face to his, he whispers again breathing the name as his lips find hers, kissing her gently. He takes the locket from her and places it around his neck. “That night, after the unsaying of my name, my life was to have been borne away from my people and my daughter never to return – scattered in these lands where life happens far from the sky. I would live safely and alone and they would be kept safe from the terrible Devouring Wind that claimed my wife and preyed upon my people. But even as the great Exiling Wind began to seize me, I turned and, moving in that very wind, embraced my daughter. But one does not control the wind, one is embraced by its swiftness and moves, and if one would change the moving of the wind, one must change within himself. In doing this, I changed the movement of the Exiling Wind and pulled upon myself the fullest extent of its curse – all so that she might be my daughter again.” He has picked up the storm-reaver and stands holding the axe with both hands. The gathering clouds have grown black and swollen to the point of explosion and a terribly ancient wind drives all other air from the hilltop. He fixes his eyes on KayLisa as the presence of the wind intensifies, making it difficult for her even to breathe and move *** no weather control of any kind works here ***. “Tonight,” he says in a whisper which reaches her ears from several directions at once, “My movement within the Exiling Wind has changed again. But one does not control the wind, one is embraced by its swiftness and moves, and if one would change the moving of the wind, one must change himself.” He falls to his knees with a gasp calling out the name he has given her – Sofya, Sofya ush’a ha’shama’im and his life and health begin to flow out of his body and through the axe to mingle with the wind. [ 02-25-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

02-24-2002, 11:56 PM	#56
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	Although she cannot move, her mind races, feeling him mingle with the wind......The sword at her belt, the ancient SpiritSword, one of only two such soul-reaver swords left in this world, starts to glow. The runes carved down the blade shine thru the scabbard a bright red, as if blood. The sword has felt a soul free in the wind, and answers.......singing its ancient song in time to the gales of the wind, a sound so pure, so song itself would kill hundreds if heard in any other place than this......its awaits patiently, awaits an answer..............waiting for this soul to merge with it and become one with the other souls imbibed in the blade, or to return to its body.................

02-25-2002, 03:14 PM	#59
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	THE TAVERN The whispers of the wind recoil a moment, surprised at the vigor with which the psionic defends his mind. Never do they cease their speaking, however. Soon the decaying air itself fills his lungs – each heavy breath he draws in his bloodlust pulling more of the wind into his body. The whispers never grow louder but the insistence of their speaking builds in intensity until finally even his breathing is in time to the cadences of their speech. The wind feeds from his bloodlust gathering the cries of those he slays into itself, claiming even their final breaths for its own. Such a marvelous creature, this one. O Yes! Yes, indeed. A pity not to have played with you longer -- such a formidable mind you possess ...... but there really is no protection against your need for breath, is there? .... and such burning there is in your dreams ..... Why you have another’s terror growing within your mind! And such a terror – a terror of souls ripped from their bodies, souls that might one day be loosed from their prison ... O! Such a fear as this I have not tasted in a very long time .... and then there is your own fear of the madness that claims you .... let us listen a moment – hear its voices, voices that may well never leave you alone again ..... And those you have so recently murdered here -- they are within me now .... O! Such an unexpected feast -- to taste souls again! .... Hear them call to you, these whom you have sent to a very final and painful ending .... But what is this? This outsider’s terror you carry – it belongs to a woman whom you would kill, a woman who is with him! .... O! The gift you have given me, my friend, this is even more delicious than the taste of your mind! ..... Perhaps, I shall speed you to them ..... yes .... but it is so difficult to part with a mind as rich as yours ..... oc: Neb, I hope this does justice to your character. If not let me know and I’ll change the post. [ 02-25-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

02-25-2002, 05:54 PM	#60
shadowhound Ma'at - Goddess of Truth & Justice Join Date: November 24, 2001 Location: Australia Age: 39 Posts: 3,281	Shadowhound slowly walks through the tavern looking around. He pulls out a short sword "Neb are you in here, there is some weird crap happining and i am starting to freak out here." Shadowhound heres whispers of voices past spoken, he looks pale and nervous, unsure and panicy.

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