Wanderer
Unknown.
Single.
Elf
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Orin Forst on Aug 9, 2017 3:50:14 GMT
[googlefont="Griffy"][googlefont="Abel"] WHEN CLOUDS GO ROLLING BY THEY ROLL AWAY AND LEAVE THE SKY
WHERE IS THE LAND BEHIND THE EYE PEOPLE CANNOT SEE He had been a fool. Orin trekked the mountains, only accompanied by his staff. He came over a ledge of the sharp jagged slope, overlooking the darkness below. Indeed, the Dark Canyons were cruel to the unexperienced traveler, and Orin would never usually come here. But there was something different, off. He had somehow thought that the answers might be here. He had sensed a strange, dark magic from that plant, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. He had searched the Sakari Wildes, the Realms of Mir, the northern region of the Naihan Mountains and Krizala. The only place he did not venture to was the region of the Astricus Desert. As an elf he could not traverse those sandy reaches, probably dying from the heat before he could even find the mythical city of the stars. Like dark magic would come from there anyway. The only other place he could think of was the Graveyard, but even he rarely went into the realm of the undead. To him, it just felt... unsettling. He never really liked encountering the dead, and he prefer that they stay behind those gates. They had no magic, but there were few that were rumored to try and control them. Maybe the immortals, he had heard last. He had not tried the Dangerous Reaches yet. Maybe that would be his next stop if he did not find what he was searching for. These mountains were dangerous, but he would much rather be here than in the Graveyard. It was a good place to check without worrying about encountering undead, as he knew they rarely came up here. Although, this was the place of dragons and other winged creatures. Not long ago he had just encountered a griffin. Though Orin hide beneath the rocks, trying to stay low and hidden as he passed. It was difficult traversing on this rocky landscape. One wrong move and he could fall to his death down below. Well, at least Orin was familiar with traversing in such terrains. He was a man of the wilderness, more comfortable here perhaps than in the cities. As a wanderer he spent endless days and nights in the forests and other terrains, seeking out his seemingly unknown purpose. Most did not know where he was. He made sure it was that way. Even the Lore Keeper, Ives, who was once his apprentice, would not know his location. The only one he had encountered was Shaecayrn. Only she knew of his whereabouts. It was that plant. This whole time. It was the very reason he left. There was much more danger than the elves realized, and it was his duty to stop it. Orin came to a halt, overlooking a high peak in the Dark Canyons as the harsh wind picked up his long black hair. As far as the eye could see he could only see the dark fog that shrouded the distance. It seemed empty but he knew that there were many unexpected dangers lurking. Taking a few cautious steps down the rock, Orin slid and came to another stop. His eyes suddenly took notice of another man standing on a ledge below. What was someone like himself doing there? At closer inspection, he could see long black hair as well. It looked like he was seeing a mirror of himself, but Orin knew that it was someone completely different. He could stay quiet, or the other man might notice him. Either way, he wasn't even sure what race he was, so he decided to stay low and observe, just for the moment. If anything, maybe the mysterious person could help him. Who knew. He ducked his head lower behind the rock, his eyes still peering over. If the man turned around he could probably see him, but it would be then when Orin would make himself known. Obelisk   |
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Post by Obelisk on Aug 17, 2017 15:20:09 GMT
There were rumored to be dragons in these canyons.
Here was proof.
He held a skull in his hands, not much bigger than a horse's head. So young. No flesh remained on it and yet it was not yet much aged. It had not yet turned brittle. Her teeth (he couldn't tell if it were male or female, but she felt right) were gone, pulled from the sockets likely as trophies. Likewise her claws were gone. He cradled the skull against his chest and closed his eyes, mourning the loss of a stranger in silence. So few of them left. So few young ones being born. What had this one done to deserve her fate? Had she killed someone? Had it been to defnd herself? Perhaps she had only stolen some animal to feed herself in a lean time.
People needed little excuse, he supposed. Grief, more than anger, filled him. His form shimmered slightly, then solidified again as he briefly lost complete control over the magic, then pulled it back under control again. Now was one of the few times he was reminded of the true cost of living as he wished. Even if a human could not challenge him, they would go after those who were younger, smaller, easier targets. Unless they set up some sort of society where the young could be protected and political alliances where their deaths were punished rather than the stupid, useless treaty that offered them no protection.
He crouched down and carefully laid the skull in the hole he had painstakingly dug in the hard earth, on top of a pile of the rest of her bones. He had scavenged for all the ones he could find though pieces of her were missing. Her corpse had been scavenged after the hunters had left it to rot. Then he turned to begin the slow process of filling the pit back up. When he turned, he spotted another figure crouched behind a rock. He froze, eyes narrowed, suspicious.
"What are you doing in this place?" His voice was low and seemed like it would have been more at home coming from a much bigger man. A growl followed the edge of the words, unintentional but driven by the grief that had opened raw wounds in his heart.
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Wanderer
Unknown.
Single.
Elf
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Orin Forst on Aug 20, 2017 3:24:51 GMT
[googlefont="Griffy"][googlefont="Abel"] WHEN CLOUDS GO ROLLING BY THEY ROLL AWAY AND LEAVE THE SKY
WHERE IS THE LAND BEHIND THE EYE PEOPLE CANNOT SEE Orin emerged from his hiding place, the man dressed in dark clothing standing in contrast to the gray rocks. Though he was surprised at the other man's booming voice, as he did not expect it to be that deep. Still, he kept firm, a serious expression on his face.
"I did not expect to find anyone else here as well," he said, walking a bit closer but still keeping his distance. Though, that didn't mean that he was unwilling to state his purpose. "I am here because I am searching for the source of something which plagues the Dryhtwood Forest," he said, dark eyes not averting from the man. "I suspect that it is dark magic, so I decided to search here. I have ventured far and wide but so far I had no other leads." He wished he did. Maybe the plant's source originated from the Dryhtwood Forest itself, but so far he did not find anything there. He thought that maybe perhaps there was an outside influence. Could be someone hiding in the unknown reaches.
His eyes looked at him then averted down toward the pile of bones on the ground. They were quite large, the size of a creature. He did not suspect that the man had killed it, for it looked to be dead for quite some time now. His attention then returned to him.
"Has there been any sign of dark magic here?" he asked him somberly. What if the very man before him was he? The one that conjured the plant to his will? Realizing this, Orin bent down, picking up some dirt and gravel on the ground. He shook it in one fist, looking at the man before looking down at his hand again. Was he the one? His hand then opened, letting the particles fall to the ground. However, they landed in a peculiar shape. He wished to know what kind of a man he was, and to him what Orin was doing probably seemed bizarre, like some sort of ritual. But as he then looked down at the dirt and gravel below. They aligned themselves in a form of a dragon.
Well that was odd. Perhaps was he apart of the church? The government? Did this mean that he was evil? Orin gazed upon him again. "Who are you?" he asked slowly, watching him warily.
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Post by Obelisk on Aug 21, 2017 14:33:32 GMT
As the man approached, Obelisk shifted his body between the grave and the strange, stance protective. He very much wished he could have mourned like he had in his younger days. To fill the sky with songs of sorrow, so that any who understood might turn their face up to the clouds and weep. Instead he simply reached one dusty hand up and scraped it through his long hair, loose and tangled from the exertions of the day.
He listened not impatiently to the stranger, but silently. Waiting. Watching as his eyes shifted to the bones and then back up, stony gaze narrowed. A hint of deep pewter and bronze broke the otherwise cold grey of the iris, glittering and inhuman. When he spoke of dark magic though, the beast in the shape of a man laughed. It was a rough, cynical sound.
"What other kind of magic is there in a place such as this? The earth lies barren and silent beneath our feet, home only to bones." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. In truth, Obe didn't much like most magic. But then, he didn't really consider what he and his kind did as magic. It was simply part of what they were. "If you've searched far and wide to find the source of this evil, perhaps you have overlooked it's source closer to home. If the event is isolated to a certain area then it seems unlikely that it's origin would be in a far off place." Some of his bitterness was tempered now by logic, briefly caught on what seemed to be a logical fallacy in what the elf was doing.
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Wanderer
Unknown.
Single.
Elf
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Orin Forst on Aug 21, 2017 19:12:38 GMT
"I know," he said, walking nearer toward the edge of the cliff, facing the endless abyss down below. He had thought that maybe indeed he had overlooked some place in the Dryhtwood Forest. Or maybe that he did not search hard enough. Either way, he could not deny the man in front of him was somewhat correct, however he did come here to search just in case. His attention turned briefly at him, curious as this person's voice sounded much deeper than he appeared, then looked into the distance once more. "Though I am uncertain... I will check Dryhtwood again when I am done searching here. If someone is behind this danger, I believe that this may be one of their better places to hide," he spoke, his dark eyes venturing back toward the man again. He did seem a bit odd, but interesting to Orin nonetheless. He held a certain wisdom to him, and he liked that. He smirked a little.
"Home to bones you say? You look well alive," he said in jest, giving a slight laugh. Orin was not one to typically joke around, though perhaps he felt comfortable around one such as he. His eyes then met the bones of the creature on the ground, gazing upon it with what seemed to be, lament. "Dragons..." he spoke, some wind picking up a few pieces of his long black hair. "This is what I seek to prevent to our own kind." Within all the visions he had hardly seen dragons. If anything they tended to mind their own business, they rarely had a connection to the dark magic he so saw. But perhaps it was because they had only elemental magic, not extending to the gods' like the elves. But, that didn't mean to him that not all of them were evil, but he thought that what happened to them, they probably did not deserve. He couldn't handle it if the plant took over each and every elf, or the end of all the elves, something which he was going at great lengths to prevent. "And all the others as well," he said, closed eyes as his head turned away. He felt the weight of all of their safety on his shoulders, if he did not stop the plant it would spread into the other races as well. The creature even said it itself. It planned to reach every corner of Oedir. He had to stop it.
Turning again toward the man, his eyes gave an apologetic look. Perhaps he did not wish to hear the babbling of an old elf. Saving the world and whatnot. Though, Orin did a bad job at hiding himself. First Shaecayrn found him and now this fellow. He should learn to blend into his surroundings more. However, now he couldn't help himself, he had already been found so he may as well try to learn more about him. He doubted that he was someone that would be connected to the dark magic, as the dirt had told him. Instead, it just showed him a dragon. Whatever that meant. Maybe it was because they were in the canyon of dragons. Or did he know one perhaps?
"Regardless," he began again, eyes shifted off into the fog of the canyons, "you know why I am here. What brings you to this place?" He asked more out of curiosity rather than a demand to know his purpose being there. Ironically Orin was impressed that he could see someone else traverses these dangerous cliffs.
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Post by Obelisk on Aug 23, 2017 4:05:00 GMT
Obelisk watched the elf as he moved but didn't give up his protective stance near the unfilled grave. He listened though, half curious. The going ons of the world were of interest to him, both good and bed. However, when his gaze turned towards the bones and he spoke of dragons, Obelisk bristled. What did this stranger presume to know. His lips pulled back from his teeth briefly in a grimace that was neither joyful nor kind, but quickly settled into nothing stranger than a scowl. His fingers curled and flexed, wishing for talons to dig into the earth. He never felt quite as grounded as a man as he did in his true form. He always felt a little disconnected. A little less rational.
"Your kind." He spat the words. Often, Obelisk was not given to anger. Now though it seethed in the pit of his stomach, building slowly fed by indignation. He spoke right over the elf's next words. His voice, though it did not rise in volume, had taken on a dangerous hiss. "No 'dark magic' drove dragons to this." He brandished a hand towards the bones at his feet, a pitiful example of a proud race. "It was all of you and your follies. Every race that feared them, every race that raised it's hand against child because they could not harm the parents. And your kind can't claim innocence either. I've seen the results of Elven hunting parties." The words snarled from between gritted teeth, the molten colors in his eyes flashing and changing.
"Maybe whatever haunts your forest comes from your own people." He reached up his hands, scraping his hair back from his face as a dry wind swept down the canyon. "Have you looked into the blackness in your own hearts, hmm? Or do you still blame those who don't look like you just like every other race. Most of you only better the world by rotting in the earth." His teeth clicked in a snap that lacked menace due to his current shape, but emphasized the end of his rant at the same time. He had said more than he intended, eyes narrow and furious. It was a cold sort of anger though. This was not an old grudge, rising up to displace his better judgement. This was anger brought about by grief and denied dignity, and pride savagely suppressed. Obelisk knew that not all people were bad- he'd met many he liked and even had friends among non-dragons which he did not among dragons (hard to do make friends of your own kind when they are scattered and hidden). But he struggled to sympathize with this stranger's plight and more thought it a travesty that he compare it to what had happened- and continued to happen- to dragon kind.
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Wanderer
Unknown.
Single.
Elf
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Orin Forst on Aug 23, 2017 8:08:34 GMT
Orin looked on as he listened, with a calm, yet stern expression. The man did not answer his question, although this did not bother him. He thought about what he said deeply. He couldn't deny his words. Indeed many elves had hunted dragons. But many dragons had slain elves, what was the difference? He continued to think upon what he said. Flashes of his past crossed his mind. He hadn't known about the dragons, but he lost his family in one night. It didn't matter to many, and he could not undo the past, but losing the entire population was something that he feared. "Perhaps," he said. He suspected that it may come from his own people, but so far he hadn't found anything there yet. Which was why he was here. "Even if we did rot in the earth, that would not bring them back," he said. "Is it something you would still say if it were at the cost of all life?"Despite his ranting, Orin was not angry. Instead, he quite interested in the stranger. He held a sort of ancient wisdom to him, and he liked that. His head faced the cliffs ahead, but his gaze focused on him through the corner of his eyes. He smirked, which was something he rarely did. "You seem to care much about dragons," he said. "Though what are you exactly?" He thought he was some sort of dragon sympathizer, but that didn't change the fact that his own race must have hunted dragons as well. He didn't note the hypocrisy, and he was not annoyed by it. Instead, he actually liked the fact that he cared for a dying race. It was noble, but he felt that he didn't understand the peril that they were all going to be extinct soon. "I can see through the eyes of the earth," he said. "It is my magic. I can gain the insight of... questions, that I have." He then bent down, picking up some pieces of small gravel. He shook it in one hand, curled up in a fist. His eyes then moved over toward him. "I have sensed this dark magic... It is unlike anything else I have ever seen. Though it will eventually endanger us all," he spoke. "Until there is nothing left," he let the stones drop, all of them landing naturally onto the ground. However, they all rolled, falling toward the abyss below unnaturally. It looked ominous, and Orin then stood. "The earth does not lie. Like I have tried to learn about you," he then said, his head averted toward the dragon shaped dirt on the ground. He then looked back at him. "Although I don't know what it means," he admitted. (Sorry I lost this one and had to redo it, it was much longer and this is just a basic summary of it. ;-  |
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Post by Obelisk on Aug 30, 2017 16:17:56 GMT
Obelisk snarled. Cost of all life. Bah. So far not so much of a whisper of it had reached him from any other source. He'd heard no mages speak of it, no werebeasts, no humans. And his questions were shallow, those of a man whose thoughts only dipped so deep.
Elves. So arrogant, so caught up in their own lives that they would little dirty their hands in anyone else's. He didn't follow the man's shifting gaze but rather kept his queer eyes locked on the elf.
"I am Obelisk." His voice growled, low in his throat, like rocks grating together. And that, it seemed, was sufficient answer for the dragon. He didn't care to elaborate. Finally as he began to speak again Obelisk turned his back on him. He snorted a hard, mirthless laugh when he spoke of seeing through the eyes of the earth. Hands surprisingly gentle despite the hard set of his shoulders, he began to move the hard dirt he had scraped out of the grave back in, this time covering the bones. There wasn't much dirt and shortly he began the careful process of piling stones he had collected for the purpose on top instead. It was something, at least.
"The earth does not lie." Obelisk agreed. Some of the growl had left his voice but it was still biting, angry. "Nor does the earth see. It may feel and it may speak and it may breath and it may weep but it does not see." He spread his fingers out over the earth and cocked his head as though listening. He tried, as he often did, to hear the stones singing. But he might as well have been deaf and blind in this false skin. He could feel nothing. His hands curled to fists, then he reached for the next stone in the pile.
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Wanderer
Unknown.
Single.
Elf
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Orin Forst on Aug 31, 2017 2:06:04 GMT
"It does not," he agreed, eyes downcast as he moved from the edge of the cliff. The dark orbs then turned toward him. "But it knows many things. About the past, the present, the future," he spoke in an even tone. "I have a connection to the earth that allows me to also know these things," he said, looking as the man continued to cover the dirt over the bones, then completing the grave as he then began to pile on stones. Orin moved toward the side, sitting down on a large protruding rock that was the nearest to him. Still close to this mysterious man, he continued to watch as he managed the grave. Obelisk, such a peculiar name. He didn't state his species, although it might have been evident for he was a dragon sympathizer. Maybe he was ashamed of what he was because of that, though Orin didn't blame him. It would make sense considering the fact. Although, what was one such as he doing way out here? Burying the remains of dragons long gone? Trying to find any sign of a dragon left that was living? Or was he the leader of a cult of sorts, perhaps devoted to the creatures?
Curiously, Orin took some more stones and dirt from the ground, again shaking it in his hand as he then threw it against the ground from where he sat. At first the pattern seemed off, but then the wind began to blow, moving around the pieces one by one as it swirled against the ground. He sat there, continuing to wait as they seemingly moved on their own, moving up against each other to create a picture. The brown dirt showed a dragon's head, locked within a cage formed by the larger pebbles. Around it were little men, then some normal sized figures, with swirls around their arms. What did that mean? He then looked up at Obelisk. He had tried to gain some insight into the past of what he was, hoping that it would show what race he was yet now it showed another confusing image. If the man was close enough he could see it for himself, and Orin continued to gaze down upon it confusedly. But it was a demonstration of his magic, hoping that the other would be finally able to understand.
"Obelisk..." he said, pondering as he looked downward at the odd shapes. Maybe he had trapped a dragon before, and now he felt guilty because of it? Maybe. But, this man seemed to be old, and perhaps a bit wise in his opinion. Yet there was much mystery to him. Perhaps as much as Orin was to everyone else. Of course, even if the man saw it maybe he would deny that he was just dabbling with some strange magic that could move around stones. But Orin knew that the earth was saying something about his past, so either way he knew that this had something to do with him even if he would lie. He hoped that this would get some reaction out of him, if anything. "This shows something from your past..." he spoke, hoping that he could see that Orin was telling the truth about his magic. Hoping that he would understand the severity. "This is what the earth shows me..." he spoke, eyes gazing up at him. Then the elf stood.
His eyes gazed upon the grave. It was sad, yet beautiful how the man had crafted it. The stones were arranged nicely. Perhaps if only Orin's family had such a nice grave. He walked up to it. "I don't want anymore to die," he said truthfully, hands fiddling with one of the pouches on his belt. Digging deep within the brown pouch, he pulled out a vial. Inside were some flowers. White ones, that were supposed to be meant for eating of his rations. Gently, he placed them on top of one of the stones of the grave, kneeling down in silence. A moment of prayer was given, as he looked down sadly upon the grave, the wind picking up black strands of his hair lightly.
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Post by Obelisk on Sept 12, 2017 13:24:33 GMT
He sat back on his heels, the grave finished, and bowed his head. In the periphery of his awareness he heard the elf shifting, picking up stones and dust and scattering them on the ground again. Though at first he had dismissed the gesture as fidgeting, each time he did it the act gained significance in Obelisk's mind. And now he considered it in light of the conversation they were having and decided it must be part of his magic. So this time he looked, partly driven by curiosity and partly by the man's words.
Obelisk laughed.
Rich and warm, it rumbled from his chest as though from a deep cavern. He reached down with one hand and swept the picture clear with his hand, casting the stones and dirt aside with one decisive swipe. And he laughed. He looked up at Orin with a queer sort of mirth in his eyes, the anger and bitterness not gone. Still scathing, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head.
"Child of the wilderness, the gods rendered you blind and deaf in the making." He wiped his hands on his trousers, shedding the dust from them. The floral token he swept from the grave with casual distaste- it needed no marker from those who would kill a dragon out of sport or blind fear. Prayer or not, Obelisk was running very thin on his patience for playing games. Gold flashed in the storm grey of his eyes and in the sunlight queer shadows played in the raven dark of his hair. "What good is your connection to the earth if you do not listen?"
Then he shook his head and went to his back, slinging it onto his shoulders. He adjusted the poleaxe he carried back into place where he could retrieve it if he had to fight on foot. "Right now, I do not care if your kind should die. I will help you though. For a boon." He turned away to look out over the abyss that dropped off beyond the ledge.
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Wanderer
Unknown.
Single.
Elf
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Orin Forst on Sept 13, 2017 9:00:39 GMT
Orin looked at him curiously, although the expression did not show on his face. The man had swept it away and laughed. But for what purpose? If he did entrap a dragon, perhaps it was over in his mind? Or perhaps the dragon was an old friend? The elf did not know, but his laughter was a curious thing. He appeared to be so pained, yet when Orin showed him of what happened he finally showed some sort of happiness. He continued to look at him with his usual glance of stern dark eyes, as he continued to listen. But he watched as then Obelisk swept the flower from the grave, Orin's eyes following it down into the abyss regretfully. It was apart of his eating rations, now gone to waste. Yet, the other was free to do whatever he wished with it. Though, the question as to why he did briefed his mind. Did he dislike how the other races mourned the dead? Then again, Orin never learned what his race was. At this point he had given up guessing, though he suspected something close to human or perhaps immortal. It was odd that his appearance began to change, obscure shadows forming as energy seemed to surround him. The elf thought his eyes had turned gold for a second.
At that Orin continued to look at him with curiosity, although his head then tilted for a moment. "Listen?" he asked, but then looked away. He knew what he had meant. Although, it was interesting how mysterious this man was. How much did he really know? He called Orin child of the wilderness, did he have some connection with the earth as well? The more he thought about it the more it seemed that the other was much older, somehow lecturing him as Orin lectured many, though this one did so in his own way. But to him, what was the difference between seeing and hearing? In the end they were just senses that the earth showed itself in. though he was curious as to why he chose such a word. To listen. There was not much the earth had to say. But listening was beyond Orin's magical capabilities.
Walking near him, the wanderer stood closer to the man, beside him as he too looked out at the cliffs. "A boon?" his head turned to him. "Alright. What do you propose?" he then asked. He was willing to have the man's aid, although he did not expect it. All he came up here for was to find any trace of dark magic that linked to the plant, but indeed it seemed that he found something much more. He didn't expect any sort of help, but Orin was grateful. He would provide anything to him if it was within Orin's resources. Gold, favors, all of it he could do. Anything than to watch the elves all die, however he thought that wasn't what he was going to suggest. But as how mysterious the man was, Orin wondered what it was that he could possibly want. It had to do with dragons, most likely. |
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Post by Obelisk on Oct 2, 2017 15:49:37 GMT
"Only a favor, like to like, to be called upon within one year and one day of completing this task for you." The dragon trapped in man's skin tilted his head and studied the diviner, seeing in him only youth and foolishness but also some measure of goodness. Though right now his anger was up, the wrath of his kind hot in his veins and resentful of the right they had to live in peace, he knew his attitude would change. He was not the kind who truly could leave a people in danger of extinction. If this threat was true, then it would do the world good to be rid of it.
And for all that Obe was old and jaded, he still believed that the world deserved good. In his more rational moments too, he believed in giving people a chance. In allowing people to be good. And so he fished into a pouch and produced a rough piece of opal, uncut and unpolished, the size of his thumbnail. Something about the fire in the opal shimmered queerly, like it was not quite right. Ripped from the earth of the floating islands, it sang queer songs to him when he had the ears to listen.
"A token of our contract." He tossed it to the elf's feet, then turned to leave.
[end?]
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