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Twisting Nether (OTA)
Topic Started: Sat Feb 7, 2009 9:42 pm (414 Views)
Neon
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The twisted trees within the Hauntwood Marsh seem to speak of pain, the darkness given of their shadows looming through the marshlands showing their tormented souls in the shadows. Each tree seems intertwined with a void of souls in eternal pain, a part of existence, the ever circling afterlife of darkness, the Twisting Nether. Even in the silence of the marsh, one can hear the screams of souls bound against their will to the world, souls twisted by the torment of time. Few that can hear the spirits dare not venture near the Hauntwood Marsh in fear of hearing the ever-lasting torment of the spirits, echoing through the trees and time itself. So many spirits tormented in silence, overcome by the pain of their sins.

Gul'Dagor while in his prison of monstrosities had developed an alias because of his pain from the brutal transformation which turned him into what he is now. He had been called Nwalme'En, meaning Tortured in the elivsh tongue. For each day the abomination had administered the strange concoction Gul'Dagor grew in increasing pain until he escaped, both the place of torment, and the cause of torment. For years he had wished it to end, much like the spirits of the twisted trees. He felt amongst kin when in the Hauntwood Marsh, even if their actions did differ, no evil deserved this amount of punishment. Although the thought was comforting of the beast which made him half were-tiger and half were-wolf.

His steps amongst the wettened muck were mostly silent, every few steps would slosh the muck and mud about ever so slightly. The silence of the physical plain was comforting as he had long since learned to tune one plain from his hearing to focus on the other, currently it aided him in a peaceful travel through these waters. His talent had aided him since he left the dark mansion, and he was a being of freedom thanks to it.

No screams meant peace for his state of being, each stepped was granted through the thickening marsh. The waters and marhsland and trees around him were silent until an unfamiliar sloshing sound made itself know. Gul'Dagor stopped to listen too the series of sloshing sounds, signifying another being with the Hauntwood Marsh. It could have been a being sent to capture Gul'Dagor, or it could have been a random traveler. Whichever the sounds belonged to it was not of nature, he knew that much by the repetive sound of each step the being made.
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Deus ex Alice
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This forest in particular she hated. Normal forests were vibrant and green, filled with the sounds and smells of life. It always put her mind at ease and cleared any troubles away. This place was radically different however, if a forest was a body this body was suffering from a wasting disease for sometime now. The deathly silence was broken once in awhile by a howling breeze that sent the emaciated branches creaking and groaning like the cries of the lost and the damned. There was no solace here.

"Stupid, god-forsaken vermin picking this craphole to hide out in." She blanched as the sound of her right boot getting sucked into the muck echoed out. With one hand leaning against a tree she reached down and wrenched the boot up with a bit of effort. "If I ever get my hands on that thing..." was the only audible part of her grumblings that became fairly graphic.

Her clothing was about as battered as her cloak and hygiene. Being out here for under a week had already taken a heavy toll on her. the short-cut hair was more suited to this than lengthy hair, but it too was matted with dirt and sweat, giving the brown hair a dull color that hid the dirt pretty well. A small pair of upwards curling black horns marked her out as having a fiendish nature, not by choice as it was, but others didn't make the distinction.

With a heavy sigh she trudged through the muck, trying to stick close to trees and use the roots to keep her from sinking in. Illya's hardened physique was a bit too adept at getting stuck and made every step into the marshy area make leaving much more appealing. At least before it'd been dry ground, no matter how unsettling.

There was a pause in her shuffling pace, drawing a gloved hand across her brow she tried to listen, almost positive there had been an out-of-place noise. The source didn't reveal itself, more than likely just being the wind or swamp-gas or other.

Then another stream of curses flowed freely about Illya having intercourse with the mud's mother, not that it had one or that she had. It helped vent her stress from the unease generated from the surroundings and her frustration as she wriggled her foot around to get it unstuck again.
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Vernon
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A large pair of eyes monitored the roads. Seeing nothing of interest they rose higher as nostrils came to the air above the water's surface further away. A curious scent came to them and Vernon was pleased to know that it wasn't too far away, two curious scents in fact. One was half-fiend and the other was a curious mutt of a Were. Dinner and a show perhaps, though Vernon was certainly more bored than hungry. He pondered how to deal with them, though neither of the unwelcome guests were going to get off the hook easily. Still in the form of a massive crocodile, Vernon swam swiftly in their direction.

It had been a rather peaceful day until they showed up. While peace was rather dull, Vernon had been lazy enough not to care at the time. Most of the day had been spent snacking and trying to make a belt out of the hides of humanoids. It was coming along nicely, though it was doubtful many would agree with that opinion. Vernon was glad to have a little excitement, so much so that he consider letting one of the two live. It was always nice where there was a survivor to spread tales of his horror and increase his infamy, though it didn't seem enough to keep fools from wandering in it all the time. He wonder what foolish reasons the Half-fiend and Were had for entering his domain. If one was a bounty hunter and not just a lost soul, he wouldn't mind making sure that was the one that died.

They were apparently on the same stretch of mucky land moving towards each other. Chances were they weren't traveling together which would make dealing with them much better. The Half-fiend even seemed in her own little world, spouting off curse to the marsh around her. The trees might favor such a babbling creature as fertilizer. Vernon shrunk steadily in size as he crawled out of the water. His form first shifted into a large wolf-like form as he shook himself dry and then shrunk further into his casual form which was akin to wererat. If the noise he made getting out of the water hadn't caught their attention, his uniquely vile stench would. Vernon curiosity was increased when he notice the Half-fiend had a rather foul scent of her own about her. It of course wasn't something that could compare to Vernon's herald. Vernon scampered up a tree ad rested on a branch as he waited on the two to come to him. Why bother coming to either of them when they were both headed his way?
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Neon
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Gul'Dagor maneuvered silently through the waters, watching for whatever being had made itself known into the Marsh. It sounded as though it were a woman, cursing what muck surrounded her. She seemed too distracted to truly notice another presence weaving through the waters watching her in a dark form which blended quite well with the surroundings. Perhaps he would have continued to watch her, make sure she did not take notice of him if a fouled smell had not shot through the air to his nostrils. A smell worse than that of the Hauntwood Marsh, but faint enough to go undetected to a human's sense of smell. He looked around, sniffing the air until the trail had led his sight to the darkness of a twisted tree, most of which was concealed in darkness. But something seemed to be hanging, a tail belonging to a creature that watched both of the being which had entered the Hauntwood Marsh. It was intriguing since it seemed difficult to access the high branches due to the slime which coated the trees surrounding, a result of the muck evaporating and having little escape from the prison of tormented souls. But Gul'Dagor did not make a sound; in case the being may be hostile to those it perceived to be a threat to its home.

Gul’Dagor turned his gaze from the blackness and to the level of which he could see more clearly. His very presence could be a disaster to what he once believed was piece, isolated in a place where few wished to go for pleasure, though that was the appealing feature of such a place to Gul’Dagor. For him isolation was key, not for survival, but for peace. Knowing that he was alone in an environment which he could tell if there was another presence, but he did not consider a native being to this place, something to call it home. And he dared not call in warning to the woman which he know could see was half-fiend. Her scent was hidden by the Marsh and the creature which watched them with unknown intent. What would his course of action be if it decided to attack the intruders, only the sands of time could truly tell what would occur, for it was not his place to dictate the future.
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Deus ex Alice
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Another victory in the on-going war with the terrain was had with an audible popping sound as she freed her steps again. Illya was already angling just to head back and stick to drier areas if not leave altogether, when there was a fairly large disturbance in the muck nearby. It was similar to the sound she'd been making when getting her feet free, but on a larger scale. The slapping noises coming from the distance just confirmed that there was something alive in this place. The acoustics of the place were terrible, making it echo far too much and giving her a general direction.

Illya licked her lips as her hand drifted to the belt loop with her axe secured. Walking in this place was bad enough, fighting in it would be a nightmare, but generally anything living in a place like this would be as corrupted as the land itself. Generally. with a few hesitant steps forward her confidence was growing inch by inch when the assault hit her. The smell was bad enough to make her eyes water and cause her to gag.

Double over she burst out into a coughing fit from trying to control her breathing and keep from retching. The wonderful thing about humans is the ability to adapt as Illya was doing. The smell was still just as vile, but her body was easing down into being just queasy and making her a bit light-headed.

Forging ahead a bit more cautiously, her curses were kept to a whispered mutter as she looked around for the source of the noise. All she'd seen was a rat in a tree, which clearly hadn't made the wide impression in the mud. Steadying herself on the base of a tree she took several quick glances around to make certain she hadn't missed some camouflaged predator lurking in the muck.

I hate swamps...
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Vernon
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They both were close, close enough to catch sight of him. He saw no point in hiding, He'd already drawn attention to himself with the noise he made and smell he gave off. There wasn't much harm in dangling his tail for them too see. The Lycan was cautious, and even the half-fiend lowered her voice considerable, though it was not enough to hide her mumblings from his ears. She obviously wasn't trying to be too cautious as she still advanced in his direction, despite even the foul stench that irradiated from him. Probably more afraid of the massive beast that made all of the noise rather than the rat-thing in a tree, pity she didn't know they were one and the same. The time for simply watching came to close, now it was time to figure what these fools were up to in his marsh.

"Both of you would do well to tell me who you are and why you intrude upon my marsh. Do so quickly, before I conclude death a fitting punishment for your trespass," Vernon grinned his hands moved to his slingshot and bullets. Given the terrain they would be sitting ducks if Vernon happened to decide to fire upon them. If they proved uninteresting or stupid, chances were they'd get a taste of his bullets. The half-fiend was only a few branches away from being in range of his whip which was often more fun than his slingshot. Vernon's tail twitched in anticipation as looked back and forth between the two of them. He doubted both of them would be docile and follow his demands, but he was partly counting on that. Putting those that fought back in their place was often a remedy to boredom when it was done easily.

(sorry it's short)
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Neon
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Gul'Dagor listened to the creature's words carefully; it seemed to be a were-rat which sat mostly shaded in the twisted trees blackness. His voice was a bit scratching at the half-breed's ears, like the screams of a dozen tortured souls. Too familiar, to dark and twisted, to maddening to Gul'Dagor. A moment of silence passed, Gul’Dagor awaited to see if the half-fiend would respond, she did not seem to do quickly, perhaps a bit puzzled by a talking rat-man in a tree above her.

“I am of no importance and am only in your swamp for its past notations of solitary, I would consider it best for all if I may just be left alone, I wish no trouble, only peace.” Gul’Dagor spoke a bit silently, loud enough that the ears of the rat-man should have been able to distinguish his words properly, and hopefully be kind enough to try and ignore Gul’Dagor’s presence all-together.

Now the two only need to await the woman’s answer who was cursing the swamplands only moments before, she didn’t seem to be one too much up for peaceful negotiations. Something was stirred in the marshlands, a foul reek of a dark creature, and the prior complaints of the woman along with the tormented soul of the mutant mixed together into a painful symphony of sight, fell, and sound. The marshlands would be disturbed this night, and if confrontation was to ensue, Gul’Dagor would most likely be caught up in it.
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Deus ex Alice
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She shuddered slightly from a rolling wave of ill-feeling again, whether from the smell or the malevolent voice was unclear and irrelevant. The only spot of luck in the whole mess was the thing that had dragged itself from the rot and muck was at least sentient, if it could think it could be bargained with. Or hopefully delayed in doing something more than likely unfriendly and fatal.

The voice, which was directly in-front of her, was surprisingly coming from the large rat who was fumbling with something she couldn't make out too well. Her disgusted face at the general area was wiped away with a staring confusion. Something like that couldn't have done what the swamp-thing had, unless it was a shape-shifter. Judging from the threatening and possessive inclination of the hellish bog, it was him. She was on his terms, ambushed and down whatever sights he had planned. If he revealed himself it was more than likely with the full capability of destroying any intruders, such as herself, without undue risk.

To compound the already abysmal situation another individual made some sort of noise she couldn't discern terribly well. From the tone it didn't sound threatening, but it didn't sound like they were comrades either. Being stuck out here with one hostile and another potential one was about as bad as it could get without it being fatal or crippling.

The early onsets of difficulties in getting to the damn place should have warned her off enough not to bother trying. So naturally she hammered her face into the problem and got stuck a bit deeper than desired. She had no such wishes to leave things alone in the long run. If there was even a decent chance she'd go for it. Not now though, as it was she'd be more likely to fall face first into the muck and suffocate when she took a step towards the bounty-target.

"Me? I'm just lost pretty much. Took a few wrong turns, fell a couple times. I promise not to take anything or break anything on the way out." She wasn't lying for the most part, her intentions that got her lost weren't so innocent however. she did however reaffirm to swear off on coming back to this place till much later if she made it out. The money wasn't worth the cost it'd exact and had already exacted.
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