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| Unbalance of Divine Forces | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Thu Mar 8, 2007 8:42 am (330 Views) | |
| Sir Tathlin the Golden Knight | Thu Mar 8, 2007 8:42 am Post #1 |
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Outside, it was pure pandomoneum. There were harsh winds, dark clouds and heavy rain. Not even the falbed Gryphons of Kellon were daring to take flight in the deadly conditions that were spreading across Imythess. But it wasn't the weather that was worrying everyone in Kellon, but it was the fact that these horrible conditions had been continuing for quite some time now. Two weeks of non-stop howling winds and clashes of thunder. Sometimes some sunlight managed to escape and shine through the clouds but that didn't happen that often. Even the windows of The Green Gryphon inn were ratting in their frames as people tried to ignore the fact that the world outside was going through some harsh times. Once in a while, people would glance at the windows to hope that the weather would show some signs of dying down but, if anything, the weather had gotten even more severe. If anyone was hoping to go outside soon, they were going to be dissapointed. Inside of the tavern, a lone man stood watching the windows as if expecting something to happen. No-one could see much of his face, for it was hidden by a crude travelling cloak that had taken some heavy punishment. However, no-one could ignore the sword that was sheathed and producing from the cloak which told everyone that this man was not to be trifled with. The tavern owner came up and placed a steaming goblet of tea down on the table. He was a small man but large around the waistline, his stomach poking out of his shirt. Looking up at the cloaked figure, the tavern owner tried to break his silence by engaging in some sort of conversation. "It's been like this for a while now sir. Not many people know why the weather is punishing us. One minute it was all sunshine and daises and the next minute, even the gryphons are fleeing in terror to some place. Not many people dare venture outside incase they end up being blown away." The tavern owner looked at the stranger, waiting for a response. Most people would have taken the silence as a sign but the tavern owner wasn't going to give up that easily... he wanted this man to say something... anything. "Doesn't look like it'll let up soon the weather. Like I said, no-one knows why... some people say... n'ah, that's just silly. I'll leave you be sir." "No please, go-on." The tavern owner stopped, looked at the stranger who had just spoken for the first time since he got here and cleared his throat. The voice coming from the hood was deep and powerful, it belonged to a person who had seen many things. But the voice was also comforting at the same time, and the tavern owner knew there was going to be no trouble here. "Well... some people say, and this is just a rumour mind, that this is because of an unbalance of the gods. See, the goddess of the night suddenly dissapeared and then the god of the sun went as well. Next thing we know is that the goddess of magic has packed up and dissapeared as well, leaving only the god of winds, the goddess of water, goddess of swords and goddess of darkness." The tavern owner pointed outside to the maelstorm of chaos that was the weather, "You can see it in the weather, the unbalance of the powers. The howling winds, the rain and the dark clouds. They say that's all the power left. And the goddess of swords... some people say that she isn't doing so well either. Something about her chosen or something like that." The tavern owner sighed and shook his head, before turning around and walking off. "Well, I'll leave ye be. Nice talking to you stranger..." "And you too..." The tavern owner stopped and smiled. The stranger wasn't such a bad person after all... if only he knew that the stranger was an Aasmir, an outcast who was barely accepted into any society. If only he knew that the stranger was a Paladin. But that didn't matter, for outside... unbalance of divine forces continued. |
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| Jediat | Sat Mar 10, 2007 9:55 pm Post #2 |
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Dmitri shivered, holding his mug of mulled wine close in the damp and cold of another raging night. The outside storms had abated some, but only in comparison to the tempest that had swept through that morning—the rain was still constant, the winds were still howling, but the thunder trumpeting outside at least seemed to be outside the village. That morning, lighting had struck twice in Kellen, and even though only a single horse had been killed, and no people, it was much closer than he liked. The spiced wine eased his throat. He wasn’t sick yet, but going outside was likely to drive in flu, or, worse, pneumonia. Dmitri watched the water droplets fall from his soaked jacket. This weather was far too awful to be simply bad luck; there was something else at work here. Magic, most likely. The other citizens of the village, with all of their superstitions, believed it to be the fault of the gods, but Dmitri knew better. There were no Gods to be causing the weather. Dmitri looked up from his wine as a furious gust of wind rattled all of the shutters. The other patrons of the tavern were busy drinking their sorrows away. All except for a stranger, newer to town than even he, who stared out the window into the storm beyond. Dmitri could see nothing of the man under the heavy, weather-beaten travel cloak, but the sword protruding from the top of the cloak was evidence of a fighting man. It figured. Only a warrior would have the fortitude to stare out into the maelstrom and not be depressed. Dmitri had arrived almost a week ago, and the storm had already been going strong. He’d fled the desert, the heat, the dryness, but this was a mockery of his desires for a change in scenery. The rain was oppressive, the clouds blocked the sun and brought a perpetual midnight, and the wind… sleep was a struggle, with wine the only shield against the mind-numbing horror of its ever present howl. Dmitri had been going mad, and had more than once attempted to leave the village, but the storm was beyond him. The only consolation was that any of the assassins who had made it out of the oasis and followed him would have to go through it. Despite the storm, he felt safe… at least, for now. The tavern keeper, a jolly, fat little man, was busy talking to the stranger. Dmitri eyed them, curious in spite of himself, and drained the rest of his cup. The hot wine, complete with spices, warmed him, removing the chill from his bones and restoring some good cheer. He was a bard, and well-traveled. At worst, some magician had botched a spell and managed to bring in a weather spell he could not control. It would clear up eventually. Dmitri pulled his harp from its leather case, and pulled a small box of bee’s wax from the case. The harp had weathered the storm better than he had, but the gut strings didn’t appreciate the moisture. He waxed them, pondering the stranger and his militant demeanor. If it was a magician, the easiest way to deal with the problem was find the caster and kill him. Find him, and kill him. Dmitri had few qualms about bloodshed, and if it would get rid of the damned storm, he would be willing to chance an encounter with someone of the power necessary to create such a blight on nature. |
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| Jediat | Sat Mar 10, 2007 10:57 pm Post #3 |
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Dmitri stood up slowly, stretching his legs. He moved towards the center of the room, sitting down on one of the solid wooden tables. He hadn’t contracted with the tavern keeper for songs, but he didn’t want to get out of practice. Besides, he was bored out of his mind. He strummed the cord gently, and began to sing. “Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my hart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” He started softly. The patrons weren’t paying much attention, too busy grumbling about the weather to listen to music. “Alas my love, ye do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously: And I have loved you so long Delighting in your company. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” Lady Greensleeves was the first song he’d ever performed in public, when he was twelve, in front of his family and their neighbors. The daughter of his neighbors, Aleksandra Petrova, had been his intended from the day of his birth, and he had hoped to impress her with the song. It had worked, and he had his first kiss only hours later, huddled in the library behind one of the bookcases. He half-smiled at the memory, one of the few pleasant ones from his childhood that he allowed himself anymore. “I have been ready at your hand, to grant what ever you would crave. I have both waged life and land, your love and good will for to have. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. I bought three kerchiefs to thy head, that were wrought fine and gallantly: I kept thee both board and bed, Which cost my purse well favouredly, Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” By the time he had reached the age of sixteen, he and Aleksandra had been physically intimate for a year and a half. His appointment to the clergy would be obstacle—like all noble sons, he would be part of the “black” clergy, who would marry and carry on the family line from the church, though without the possibility of inheriting directly. His neighbor’s property would have been his and Aleksandra’s, and they would have connected it to the region’s vicarage and expanded their estate, leaving their children, and hence the family’s line, with even more property than before. A fond hope, and one that he destroyed when he left the clergy. The last he had heard from Aleksandra had been last year, a letter that had found him with the assassins, telling him that she was marrying a proper noble, one who had gone into the military and achieved rank. He had killed the assassin who had delivered it, crushing his throat with the end of his quarterstaff and staying long enough to watch him drown in blood before fleeing. “I bought thee petticoats of the best, the cloth so fine as might be: I gave thee jewels for thy chest, and all this cost I spent on thee. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” The patrons were now listening, more attentively than not. It was a song that most knew, being universally popular. Dmitri felt awkward about it; he was not up to his usual high standards, having been out of practice, but his voice was steady and his fingers moved rapidly from string to string. The music poured out, filling the room with a light and warmth that was at odds with the raging storm outside. The tavern keeper, back at the bar, was eying him appreciatively as patrons went to get more wine and sit back down to listen. A bard was always good for business—as long as patrons were being entertained, they were likely to stay, and if they stayed, they were likely to drink. Dmitri nodded to him while singing. If he was lucky, he could get a free meal and a room for the night out of this performance, and maybe some kind of contract, at least until the storms ended. “Thy smock of silk, both faire and white, with gold embroidered gorgeously: Thy petticoat of Sendall right: and thus I bought thee gladly. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” His voice changed, entering a low, longing tone. The song started on a happy note, and the first time his music tutor had played it for him, he had expected a happy ending, another in an endless procession of songs glorifying the life of the nobility. The fact that the wealth didn’t bring the narrator of the song love had been a shock to his system, and looking back may have been the first catalyst of his eventually departure from the world he knew. “Thy girdle of gold so red, with pearls bedecked sumptuously: The like no other lasses had, and yet thou wouldst not love me, Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. Thy purse and eke thy {Blank} guilt knives, thy pincase gallant to the eye: No better wore the Burgesse wives, and yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. Thy crimson stockings all of silk, with gold all wrought above the knee, Thy pumps as white as was the milk, and yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” One of the patrons brought him a fresh cup of mulled wine. He took an appreciative drink, put it back on the table, and returned to playing. The patrons were getting into the song, and the audience was waiting. He smiled. “Thy gown was of the grossie green, thy sleeves of Satin hanging by: Which made thee be our harvest Queen, and yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. Thy garters fringed with the gold, And silver aglets hanging by, Which made thee blithe for to behold, And yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. My {Blank}est gelding I thee gave, To ride where ever liked thee, No Lady ever was so brave, And yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. My men were clothed all in green, And they did ever wait on thee: Al this was gallant to be seen, and yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. They set thee up, they took thee down, they served thee with humility, Thy foot might not once touch the ground, and yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” He was getting tired of playing. It was obvious that he was out of practice to his ear, but he hadn’t made any major mistakes—he knew the song well enough not to botch it, but he needed to play more regularly to return some of his manual dexterity and finger endurance. He’d been on the run for a month before ending up here, never spending more than two nights in any place. It was time to get back to his profession, and his steadily emptying wallet was proof of that. “For every morning when thou rose, I sent thee dainties orderly: To cheer thy stomach from all woes, and yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. Thou couldst desire no earthly thing. But still thou hadst it readily: Thy music still to play and sing, And yet thou wouldst not love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. And who did pay for all this gear, that thou didst spend when pleased thee? Even I that am rejected here, and thou disdainst to love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” Dmitri eyed the stranger, still staring out of the window. The man could be an assassin, but that would be a complete contrast to his stance. The roll of his shoulders, his posture, the trained stance—the man screamed nobility, warrior class. He hadn’t practiced reading people recently, beyond a general paranoia, but he could still tell a lot about a man from how he stood. Maybe, after the song, he’d offer the man a drink. “Well, I will pray to God on high, that thou my constancy maist see: And that yet once before I die, thou wilt vouchsafe to love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves. Greensleeues now farewell adieu, God I pray to prosper thee: For I am still thy lover true, come once again and love me. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves.” He took a deep bow, listening to the applause. He’d brought some life to the tavern, at least. Dmitri took another deep draught from the flagon he’d been offered, finishing it, and walked over to the stranger. He stood beside him for a moment, looking out the window, and then turned, a half smile on his lips. “Strange weather, eh? Fancy a drink to drive the wind’s chill away for a moment?” |
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| Sophitia | Sun Mar 11, 2007 3:43 pm Post #4 |
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Sophitia silently out of the bathroom and back to her seat. She tried to stay in the background as much as possible. Her bright clothing and her shiny jewelry sometimes gave this away however. When she arrived back to her seat the inn keeper came up to her " Hello miss, will you be needing anything?" Sophie shook her head in reply. The inn keeper insisted " oh come now miss, first drink is on the house. Sophie then thought for a second " A glass a water please" The barkeep smiled " coming right up miss." She took the time now to look around a bit, to take in all her surroundings. This was less because Sophie was bored or interested, and more because she was in hiding. She then set a hard cover book on the table. The cover was a burnt brown color and inscribed in gold was an eye right in the middle. The This was her family spellbook. It had more then spells though. It contained her family tree, family stories, family recipes, and rituals. The inn keeper was back soon to deliver the water. He set it down on the table and glanced at the book, noticing the crest " an eye, interesting family crest" he knew it was a family crest as Sophie sported the same symbol on the gold choker around her neck. Sophie answered him " yes, this crest was given to my family many generations ago." She did not what to tell the inn keeper that she was a seer, as he might have heard the news that their was a bounty on her head for a save return. The inn keeper looked into Sophie's silver eyes. She was an Aasmir, but many other races had silver eyes too, so the inn keeper could not guess her race right away. Know other races held a candle to the beauty of Aasmirs thought. The inn keeper soon left and Sophie was left to her book and water. She looked into the glass deeply. one hand rubbed the crystal in her choker, and the other waved over the glass " Liquid of the clearest measure, Feed into my deepest pleasure, Show me what i want to see, Let the present be revealed to me!" She said this quietly but with emotion in her voice. The water began the churn and bubble, waiting for her to request what she wanted to see " Where are the ones that hunt me?" the water rippled and gave a picture as clear as day. The picture would stay on one group of people for about a minute before changing to another group, and then another. They where all trapped inside because of the storm. Sophie smiled at the discouraged men, and even gave a small giggle. She soon waved her hand the other direction over the glass. The water rippled once more and the image was gone. |
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1:02 AM Jul 11

