LOF: Awakenings

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Originally Posted by Morgeruat Oley ... He looked around at Kuan and his familiar (although which one was actually serving whom was apparently still in question between them).

Kuankreid (& Ainyra)


“I think you for your time, o Archmage.” Kuan inclined his head, “And for the experience with homunculi. I confess, I have long desired to create my own, for while having a familiar is useful and she is a wonderful friend... one just does not quite feel a 'wizard' until one has created one's own experiments.” The young elf smiled, “I am sure you understand.”

He paused, “Still... please tell me if you are able to aid me with my 'condition'; elsewise I fear I must move on. My powers... they are sudden, even by elvish standards. Sometimes, it takes only a day for more to manifest and while I do not fear it, I would know its source.”

Ainyra nodded in approval at her 'master's' words. Finally he was being polite!

“So...” Kuan shrugged and smiled a little sheepishly, “I await your word.”

[dplax]

Andrion Wilgor

He had to pause several times during the long walk back to the temple. What he said and how he said it to the shadow giants was going to be crucial. He knew that the strain of what he had accomplished was going to show, he knew that he would look weak and tired. If the giants wanted to take the flame from him, they easily could.

Even over the sounds of their blows they must have heard his laboured movements for their fists paused in mid-air as the once human mage stepped from the corridor. The giants had advanced dozens of feet since he had left. As he knew, it had been just a question of time for them to break through.

The barely lit inside of the temple was like a blazing source of light after the dark passageway. Almost defiantly, his eyes slits against the sudden light, he lifts the container of the Holy Flame.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Elsewhere – Locke Manor

Just a guy named Joe

The night has been long. The following day has proven even longer. And the succeeding night – the succeeding night was a thing that was almost beyond endurance. And so it is that he remains unrested as Jeanette’s gentle knocking sounds upon his door this morning. For the maid, and in fact for the rest of the household of the manor, scant hours have passed following upon the evening meal. But more than a day of concentrated study and the careful identification and removal of enchanted wards has taken place between the walls of this room. This day has passed without rest, and without the taking of food. But it has not passed without result, for the wards have been bypassed or dispelled and the book has been read with sufficient thoroughness to indicate that there is knowledge to be gleaned from the curious characters inscribed upon its pages.

Time has moved swiftly, but time always moves swiftly when there is knowledge to be gained – whether the movement of time is aided by enchantment or not – and it is a face flushed with both lack of sleep and the sheer joy of discovery that greets the maid as she lifts her hand to wrap once more upon the hard wood of the door.

“Silence, child,” he says, and his fingers lightly touch her forehead. “Blindness, child,” he continues and all memory of the previous few seconds leaves her as the press of his fingers grows more insistent. “There is more to you than you have realized," his voice is soft, steady and without compromise in its directness. “There is more about you than any have realized.” His words are heavy with the weight of truth. “And it is time.....” So much weight in so few words..... “It is time, that all might recognize your merit, and your value, and your goodness.”

His speech is quiet. His touch strangely firm in its gentle press upon her forehead. His words – there is a curious power within them. And she feels. And she listens. And her bearing is different – more confident, more free – as she walks away from the door to the visitor’s room. And the guards, especially the young one that she had been eyeing take notice .......

Hours have been gained behind the door, hours that are not wasted. And even as a young maid’s smile glows with a captivating warmth, another smile, restless with discovery broadens.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Elsewhere – Within Another Game

The Gloomwood

Dormant is this game. Forgotten by many. Unknown to even more. And this corner of mist shrouded forest, so dim and so violent, even more forgotten and more unknown than the game in which it is found. Spun rudely off of one game. Briefly its own game. Incorporated forcefully into a third. Was it even a game at all? Or is this place, this wood, this neglected and never finished plot, but an afterthought within these forums? Nothing but an afterthought. Or.....

.....could it be something more?

Yes. There is more. There must be more. That is the reason for the dreams. No. Not dreams, for dreams are visions, not voices. Dreams are but dreams. But the voice, the whisper of the darkness, that is no dream. And a voice such as this speaks to no mere afterthought. Such a voice, so commanding a word, speaks only to those who will not merely hear, but who will also obey.

His kind is not given to the abstraction of theory. Action, however, especially action that is swift and decisive, this is a thing that is readily mastered. The whisper of the darkness is subtle only in its hidden character, but there is no escaping its meaning. A god long thought dead and rumored to be reborn, asserts himself and it is those who hold no love for the turning of posts at the whim of those who are styled “heroes” who perceive his call. His sword is ready and so is the arm that will bear it. The motion is swift and decisive for now is not the time for thinking but the time for responding to a whispered word that is at once a call and a claim that seizes the very blood of the beating heart.

The darkness has spoken and a few swift strides carry him to the place where the prisoners are kept. Screams fill the night air for but the briefest of moments for his arm and the blade it swings are swift. Blood seeps into the soil. The smell of it fills his nostrils. The blood of enemies. This is the promise and this is a promise that is understood. Blood. And where there is blood ..... spoil. To slaughter. To plunder. To soak one’s blade in blood and fill one’s sack with what the hand might seize.

He and his fellows have slumbered for far too long. Once their god was called Skurge, the bloody-handed, but there has been no blood and no spoil during these long years of forgetful slumber. Now is the time of the new god. His voice is clear and his word carries the strength of Modding Shadow......

...... this god has other servants. But light is their weakness and their downfall. Light holds no terror for him and his kind, however. Heroes have laughed at his kind in the past. But here, in these forums of IronWorks, however briefly the time may have been, heroes have learned to their regret that his kind can not be taken lightly. His nostrils flare at the scent of the blood that hangs heavy on the blade of his broadsword, a blade that is serrated like a woodcutter’s saw. With a roar he bellows his response to the whisper out into the darkness that has called him.

Blood and spoil!

And in answer there is the rattling of weapons being seized as his fellows awaken from their slumber. Swords clash discordantly against helmets that still bear the heads of enemies within them.

BLOOD AND SPOIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The answer is deafening. The darkness has spoken. Krak has heard. And his response is that of the hobgoblins of the Gloomwood. The scent of blood is heavy in the air. The lure of plunder burns within their eyes. The death of enemies calls to them. The time of Skurge has passed. The time of the new god has begun. And Modding Shadow settles over their hearts. Each of them. And all of them.

[Larry_OHF]

Originally Posted by Larry_OHF Mage of Shadow He smirked at the strength his old acquaintance still possessed from within and responded, "Well, I have been rather busy with the new army I am creating, but I won't trouble you with that." He passed through the dark bars that confined Morgie to this place as though they were mere shadows and nothing of real substance. Drawing a little closer to his caged rat, he continued. "I hoped you were ready to give me some information. I already know the whereabouts of Larry Silverfall, but I know little of your two other companions that broke into my tower. Care to tell me anything about them?"

The big man locked eyes with the villianous shadow fiend and defiantly responded with a mere smirk of which he knew would get him nowhere but hurt real fast, yet for all it was worth it was actually the only response he could think of.

"Ah, of course. We're playing the defiance card, aren't we? Well you really must not be in your right mind, old friend. You forget how I deal with such as that. To better get at you, I hurt those that you should be protecting..."

The Modding Mage turned his attention now to the unconscious Senora, the elven beauty that Morgie had brought here with him, Larry and the other fellow. The atmosphere of the Tower of Shadow was not treating her well, seeing as how she was a thing of nature and good and all that crap and this tower was all about the opposite. The very air was poisoned with shadowy darkness and the Mage delighted to know that she was made sick by it. His improvements were worth the effort. But what to do to cause Morgie to panic enough to reveal his secrets...

"I bet she'd be even hotter-looking as a drow, don't you think Morgie? I think I can whip up a spell to taint her soul to get that fair skin of her's to go obsidian. Wanna watch?"

The Mage now smirked as he walked through the bars of the prison again and passed on through to Senora's holding cell. From there, he began speaking words to invoke a spell.

[Morgeruat]

Taking a slightly different tac this time, Morguerat continued smirking. "You know what I find truly funny. Even here, your greatest powers cannot hold me from my faith and my connection to my God, I sustain you. I am the light that creates your shadow in this place. Without me, you would be nothing more than a Mary Sue wish fulfillment."

[Larry_OHF]

Morgeruat attemps: Spell disruption. Attempt succeeded.

The audacity of the statement was just the thing to boil the mage's blood...if there indeed was blood in his veins and not some shadowy cloud of vapor...whatever...it was enough to catch his attention and throw his spell workings off. The mage turned a glare towards his captive and hissed a command word. From the shadows creeped forth a spider-looking thing, though it was as large as a chihuahua, and spat forth a black web of goo at the big man's face which resulted in his mouth being sealed with the silky mass of shadow web. It continued to creep forth as though this party had just begun.

The mage meanwhile turned his dark attentions back to the elven wench before him and started again with a dark incantation.

[Larry_OHF]

Replay of last conversation pieces from Team TAVY

Anarrima Even as Ana prayed to her goddess for the remission of guilt she felt at the death of Marcos and for the request she had at replinishing her spell power for the mission that she was currently serving in the Lockesville area, she became aware of the life awakened in the forest around her. Tao was close to the woods, equal and different to that of an elf, for she found her power directly from the forest whilst the elves made use of the forest as a home and lived together with it. Both lived in harmony with the trees, but Tao's connection to that harmony was more fixed on her servitude to it, and it to her. While Ana prayed, she could also feel the power of the prayer that Tao offered, and the forest's answer in turn. It was amazing to hear the trees chatting back and forth, each in turn telling the next what was taking place within a grove of oaks. The animals were made to stop and show reverence. For Team TAVY However, there was one animal nearby in serious pain, wounded by a human's blade and when it heard of a power that could talk to the forest, it sought out these visitors, hoping that they would help. A wounded cougar sniffed out the location of a wolf...though not quite a wolf...and three elves. The third elf was not entirely an elf either, but shared blood with a human, though this did not matter right now. It came upon the four. One elf, the female, was sitting in reverent solitude. The two males that were with her stood nearby and chatted softly. The wolf-druid was within a nearby grove, also being watched over by the two males who stood as gaurds over the females. The cougar padded quietly over to the two males and spoke, hoping that they would understand, hoping that they would allow it to ask the druid for help. OOC>>>Yevaud and/or Vincent can move as they see fit. Vincent Pathfinder Vincent heard the call of the land, he could only stand in awe at the Druids power "How sweet it is!" he thought. Standing there with Yevaud while searching for a good shaft of yew, he spotted an mountain lion padding there way, it was injured and coming at them in the way that only a creature of this nature could, asking for aide. Falling back on his training, Vincent attempted to use his innate abilities to speak with animals of this type to set it at ease and to fix it's wound. Speaking with the cat, he set it's mind at ease, letting it know that the druid was communing with the land but it will have its moment. In the mean time however, he would tend to the wound if it would let him. In the meantime, the cougar attempted to speak back to the half-elf and his friend, the other full-blood elf male. He wondered if they had seen Ariella recently, for nobody passes through this forest without her knowing of it...however she had not been seen in the period of a few days and some of the forest life were beginning to get worried. The cougar sent the mental image of a beautiful swan to the mind of the ranger. Kaylisa TAOWolf It was like one of those annoying “no-seeum flies”….. one that continually buzzes around you, that you never REALLY see, but know is there… always buzzing around your head… whispering in your ear, or flying past your eye or ear.. something you constantly swat at but never hit.. not really… You begin to wonder if it ever really even is there… then “BUZZZZZZZ” right across your face again… you swat and swat… to no avail… one of those annoying little things in life that can drive you to commit harie-carie… right on the SPOT…. She covers her nose with her paws, and closes her eyes. She can feel the “other”… but cannot see her.. just like a damn “no-seeum”… she can FEEL her somewhere in her soul… trying to drain her.. trying to distract her from healing… although… REALLY.. there is no cure for what that soul-sucker is doing, now IS there? Of course there is… she just hasn’t figured it out yet… but she WILL… by Goddess… hopefully sooner than later… She feels the pull of her missing human-side shadow… feels the drain on her natural magic… BUT… (of course there is always a BUT).. she can fight it… maybe not as good as before.. but she has FAITH by Goddess… FAITH!!!!... curious thought…. Why isn’t my wolf-shadow gone? Hmm… now THERE IS the question to study… yes.. need to study that…. Through all the distraction running through her mind and soul, her prayers NEVER falter… NEVER wane or ebb… her body physically may not be healed, but her mind… OH her mind… if she can just keep that damn soul-sucker away long enough to maybe get Ana’s help… BUT… dare she tell Ana what is happening? The poor pure soul.. why get her involved?... A large branch of one of the eldest oaks reaches down and gently tickles her front paws, making her move them… Her sharp eyes look up at the elder and her ears twitch…. She looks around, and the moonstone slowly reaches the end of her prayers, and she woofs softly into the breeze…. Gradually everything stops moving and the beautiful song to nature dies slowly upon the breeze as if never it were…. She shakes her head, and swipes at her eyes with a paw absently, then stands shaking madly to remove all the leaves and dirt from her coat…. She looks down, and stamps her left paw lightly on the stone kind enough to allow her to lay upon it during her prayers, and marks it with a rune scratch… Maybe some day someone like her (doubtful) will see this and wonder about this beautiful circle of oaks with a granite stone in the middle and maybe… just maybe… remember an old story about druids, and magic and wonderful things that happened in the past… she is a dying breed… and knows it… but MAYBE, some young girl who feels suddenly the urge to dance in the wind and sing to the trees will find this spot… and revive some much needed magic to this area… She is getting too old… nostalgia… she laughs as only a wolf can laugh… then……. Pricking her ears, she picks up the scent of a cougar… near the boys…. Does not sense danger, only hurt and sadness… Leaping off the rock, she wags her tail once more to the grove, then heads towards the boys…. Vincent Pathfinder Thumbing through an inside pocket, Vincent pulled out a small ceramic jar and some cloth. Opening the jar he dabbed the cloth in it and then applied it to the wound on the cougar. The cougar was asking about a swan, Vincent did not recall seeing one and so replied to the cougar. As he was saying this, Tao was padding in there direction. "Here she come's" he said to the cougar.

[Morgeruat]

Morguerat attempts... not pooping himself, lol, jk. Morguerat attempts to tear the shadowy web free and throw it at the spidery... thing on the ground.

[Morgeruat]

Yevaud

Yevaud completed his katas, meditative and sequential practice sessions that practised precise movements until they were reflexive. A skilled bladesinger could create a haunting melody with the movement of his blade as he sliced first the left wing from a fly, followed by the right as it fell, and finally bisecting it before it hit the ground and even knew it had been struck once. Yevaud continued working himself, annoyed that he could only catch the right wing as the fly hit the ground, and the tune created by the whistling of his sword seemed slightly flat in places, or sharp in others. Absolute perfection is the bread and butter of those who practice the singing swords, and to one such as Yevaud it becomes frighteningly easy to lose hours or even days practicing a single move to perfection before realising how much time has passed.