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Hatred, Forever Burning [Open]

Started by Marakai Trin, December 03, 2016, 03:25:49 PM

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Marakai Trin

(This is an open thread, introducing a new character. Anyone is welcome to notice. The time is night, in the middle of the open desert, perhaps a mile away from a populated oasis village. Feel free to post!)


Deep in the Moraki desert, in the middle of the clear, black night, a fell wind began to blow. Dark clouds - unheard of, as they resembled rain clouds - began to spiral across the full moon.

Near the sandy earth, the wind began to follow the spiraling pattern of the sky, kicking up a myriad of the tiny particals. Slowly, they began to lift up in a small cyclone, spinning faster and faster until it almost seemed a solid object.

From around this sandy cyclone, a dark fog began to issue forth from the ground, waiting towards the spinning sands, getting sucked into it - gradually the cyclone got darker as more and more of it combined.

Pieces of bone. Small bits of dust. Three ebony blades. These things joined the spiral of sand in a constant stream, pieces of a whole.

And then the sand dropped without warning, leaving behind a black fog, floating in place. Within this cloud of solid black, two bright red spots flared to life, illuminating the blackness from the inside.

Kranath Trin, living again.

The black fog dispersed, leaving behind a thin man, deathly pale in face and hand. Long black hair blew unfettered in the remains of the dying wind, this movement mimicked by a long black coat that fell almost to his ankles. In a large sheathe across his back, leading from his right shoulder to his left side, it's tip almost touching the ground, there was a daikatana, it's handle picturing a stylized dragon in gold etching. At the small of his back and connected to a complex series of straps, there was a wakizashi and kodachi, one above the other, placed horizontally.

Across his face, a strange collection of odd, black lines crawled over his flesh, giving him an otherworldly, arcane look. Those hellish eyes stared straight ahead, over the sand dunes, unblinking. He looked as though he were waiting for something.

Above, the clouds that previously screened the sky cleared, to reveal the moon directly above Kranath's form.

joylss

(OOC: Hello! I am rather new to this site. Hope you don't mind that I've joined this thread!)

Seeking enjoyment through amassing herbs is a leisure activity that Nasrin indulges in, presumably during late nights when the sterling stock of rare entities are better found bathing in moonlight rather than the warmth rays of the shining sun. A healer better skilled than the physicians during the days of yore, he seeks recluse through the forlorn bidding of desert plains, where presence are few and therefore rendering items UNTOUCHED.


His collective habits are negated through when a rising smoke of cloud and dust is seen on hindsight, the blond-haired noble is thoroughly puzzled deep in mind. Profess his trips herein, often in the span of a few days or weeks, NEVER has he spotted a soul during these years the desert became his humble, sunny clime to dwell within on nights such as this. Gently, he pulls the tip of his feathery-white hood over pale complexion, and then, guided only by inquisitive instincts, slowly does he makes his feet to iniquitous presence.


The man, a betoken of darkness shadowy moreso even than the moonless night, seems DETACHED through both soul and mind. As if EMERGED newly from the afterlife only just, his body adorned with the deceit of an eerie, grotesque look that promotes fallacy in the ludicrous belief of mankind. Hesitantly but surely, with the pivot of the wrist, Nasrin pulls his hair into a binding before searching carefully for what words may depart through thin lips:


"Peculiar you may seem, but your face promotes the colour of a man in his deathly ill state. I believe you are in need of attentive care should your strength gives away. Nevertheless, I answer to the name of Nasrin, a physician in the court of Falliel. Shall you permit me to guide you back to your village, mayhaps a company would allay any ill–boding incidents should they occur."

Marakai Trin

(Why would I mind? It's an open thread for a reason. ^_^)

At first, the tall, pale man have no indication that he had heard the words directed at him, still staring over the hills and dunes, his gaze levelled at the horizon.

But then he turned to face this newcomer, his head not even rotating on his neck - he turned with his whole body, rigidly but at the same time his movements oddly fluid. The bright red glow of his eyes darkened considerably, allowing one to view the blood-colored crimson of his retinas, with a slight reflection of the moon's light upon them.

When he completed his turn, the Eldritch lines on his face finally stopped as well, coming to converge on a location directly underneath his eyes and forming two upside down triangles, pointing downward.

It was still a moment before he replied, as he studied the man before him. Tall, and with a stature befitting a nobleman of some kind, clashing slightly with his outward appearance.

The darkness in his mind didn't know what to do about this. The cold logic that went hand in hand with that darkness, however, finally came up with a response.

"Deathly though I may appear, a lament to inform you that I am very, very much alive." His voice was dark and smooth, like black silk but touched with venom. The voice of killer, confident and powerful.

"....And I have no village to return to. Stepping out of the void of death after such a long time...rather puts an end to the necessities of life. You. Human.....Nasrin. I need no medical attention. I need information. Where and when is it that the Dark Lady has brought me at my moment of rebirth?"

Medievarad

Black fog and vile magicks in the desert. It wasn't in a particular dragonslayer's interest to inspect this, but curiousity had gotten the better off Acacius. And so, clad in golden armour that reflected the pale moonlight, Acacius rode towards the site. His spear snugly tied to his back with the red linnen string.

He looked like a paragon, a man of such a stature and grace, of such power and beauty few others could compare to. A model of strife for young children and a hero worship to their parents. He hadn't been long in Essryn, but he managed to make quite an impression in the hellhole.

After all, in pure darkness, a light's brilliance was uparallelled.

He pulled the reigns of his steed as he spotted two human figures, heading over in a slow draft. "What happened he-" he cut his own sentence off, dismounting and waving his horse off. "You stink of dragon."

Marakai Trin

"....Excuse me, Nasrin. It would seem that my entrance has drawn more attention than would be intended." He gave the latest of nods to the doctor, and turned slowly to face the newcomer. As his face became visible to Acacius, his eyes began to flare brilliantly, once again with that hellish light. The black triangles underneath his eyes began to shift and crawl, dispersing across his face to once again form odd Eldritch patterns.

His gaze flicked to the long spear tied to the man's back, and with a flash his hand moved to the hilt of the wakizashi at his back, gripping the handle with deadly intent.

".....of course I stink of dragons. I am one. And I have killed more in my life than I wager you have ever seen."

With deliberate slowness, he gave the blade a small twist, dislodging it from the catch keeping it within its sheath. With a hiss like stone against wood, he drew the midnight-black crystal blade.

Shifting one foot in front of the other, and bending at the knee, he prepared to defend himself.


"And you stink of a human who has lived far too long. Like dust and death. How many of my kind have you killed with that spear of yours, I wonder?"

His thin lips curled with a small but bloodthirsty smile, the tips of pointed teeth barely visible.

joylss

Curt and even is his voice as if deem the calming night a vigilant compound. perturbed by his eccentric gesture in a manner entirely unsettling, Nasrin cannot redeem himself by staring at the stranger and see a fiend rather than man in his stead.


Watchful eyes of green and purple perceives cannily the moving lines beneath shadowy eyes, as if bearing witness to the hail of dark sorcery. To the eyes of a being devoted to light magic, such pratix of the unholy arts may only conjure a great notion of displease. For once, the people of his lady mother were exposed to worldly turmoil for reasons unjust -- the practice of dark arts under Heaven's wrath. History of yore may they be, but deeply crafted in the hearts of wakeful eyes they have nevertheless.


Avoiding those who both worships and practices necromancy had been his beloved mother's council, but so was the advice to forsake not those in need. Perhaps the heir of Pelgius defies his doctorly instincts to disavow a man his demand of information, after all, what harm may cometh from a stranger who demands naught but the time and date of the day?


". . . Strange claims do you make, for a man who appears amid these desert at this time and day. Nevertheless, stranger still you should ask me of such questions --- but, it is the first light of Heaven's Sky and the Moraki Deserts you have trampled upon. No city lies within these lands but at least a few leagues away. On foot, three days, perhaps, is the swiftest one could reach a forlorn village."


The soundless touch of lissome foot upon the sand beholds the presence of a another visitor. Odd may it seems, for a desert to emerge so crowded in spite of the night. Seamlessly, the discharge of hostile words exchange between fiend and man is daunting, as if Fate deems him a sitting coyote between the bickering of a wolf and bear. Yet, within this situation should he appear stark and wholly discombobulate, who shall be the other man that seem to address himself as . . . Acacius?

Marakai Trin

(Your writing style is amazing, Nasrin. I applaud you.)

Kranath's gaze flicked sideways, and his brow furrowed in irritation for a moment. He had one he could perceive as a threat in front of him, and another addressing him from behind. This was just priceless.

"I thank you for the information, but now may not be the the opportune moment for conversation," he hissed, quickly turning back to the threat before him.

"Please, allow me to unravel the situation in front of me, and then we can discuss my being here. Agreed?"

(He's a little unhinged, I apologize ^_^)

Medievarad

Acacius couldn't help but chuckle at Kranath's words and movements. "It is said bathing in the blood of dragons makes one immortal," he glanced between Nasrin and Kranath . "It technically does."

The air around Acacius started to crackle slowly, sparks flikkering around him. "And this spear has more kills to it than I have years to my age." He was old, older than most humans, but he was not ready to retire by any means. But regardless, he was a dragonslayer. A pledge to his name. And it seemed the dragon before him was also only interested in battle. No point in wasting his breath.

He pulled the massive pike from his back and circled it around, before slamming the end into the sand. A bolt of lightning pierced the sky and the loud rolling of thunder resounded. Yet the night was clear, the starts bright as ever. "Then come at me, whelp."

Marakai Trin

Kranath Trin straightened up a bit at the show of magic, wondering if perhaps this would actually be a challenge. One half of his twisted mind warred with the other, the dragon in him excited and restless, ready for blood.

The shadowy, dark half, however, was not impressed. A man was, after all, still a man.

Kill him, my pawn. And then find the one I put you here to hunt for...

"Yes, my Dark Lady..." he mumbled, and straightened slightly. He would have to get this over with quickly. He sheathed his wakizashi at the small of his back, and instead reached over his right shoulder, pulling forward his ridiculously long daikatana.

"I'm going to break that silly little spear of yours, human..."

And then, promptly, he leaned forward, and to the untrained eye, became not much more than a black blur.

Most of the Aerie Dragons of the past put all their training into strength. Kranath was built for speed. And he had the strength of his Dragon form to back it up.

In a flash, he was behind the dragon slayer, no more than four feet in distance. "...and I'm going to impale you with it. I have a goddess behind me, human. What have you got?"

Eckhart_Von_Musel

Griselda had traveling the desert for about two days now. Her boss Hildegarde had wanted a man in Essyrn dead, and Griselda didn't ask questions. As it stood, it would be another five days before she got there. As she was about to crash for the night, Griselda heard a commotion in the distance. Deciding to check it out, Griselda headed in the direction the noise was coming from.

Griselda stopped when she could see the two figures poised to fight each other. She was still about fifty yards from where they were standing, but she could make out that one figure appeared to be wearing armor, and the other seemed to be glowing a bit. Grinning, Griselda sat down in the sand and watched. She took a piece of mutton jerky from her small rucksack and began nibbling on it. This was bound to be an entertaining fight, and, presuming it was to death, would provide her with an ample opportunity to partake in her third favorite hobby- looting corpses.

joylss

(OOC: Ahhh that's very kind of you to compliment, Marakai Trin! You write excellently for your character as well! It's emotionally satisfying to read Kranath's dialogues and inner voice. I look forward for more surprises from him  ;)

Sorry this would be short, the spotlight is rightfully on Kranath and Acacius at this moment! :D)


Stricken is the young heir in the a moment of a foreboding bloodplay, cruelly does the Lady of Time make disposition for their paths and the dragonslayer's to intersect in this juncture of time. Shall the welkin grace them with no sympathy, but lead to yet another internecine, war-mingling day? Already is war in the midst of worldly turmoil but yet to be pacified by truce. As a seeker of peace and righteous affair, to Nasrin, wrongful is the man by the name of Acacius who seeks profit from ravishing the right to live from the hands of any living man!


"A worshiper of Greed you are, Acacius! Shall you rob a man of his life, only to benefit from it?-----"


Words turned deaf to the ear, in the tuning of rough winds and undulating steel. Nasrin is imposed a step backwards against his will, as iron and rust clash in a swell of motions too quick for the naked eye. The blond-haired practitioner seeks not to earn a role in the foul play, yet, depart with his presence he will not----for there lies far greater need in recompense after the comeuppance that comes with the bedeviling of blade and steel.

Medievarad

Kranath, in time, would come to realize that he wasn't the fastest. Contrary to what the large, plated armour led one to believe, Acacius could easily keep up with Thranak. As soon as he appeared behind Acacius, the golden spear was already in the progress of whirling down on the dragon's head, red lightning crackling around it.

"You're dreadfully slow," Acacius answered with a soft snarl, immediately following the overhead attack, regardless of wether it was blocked or dodged, up with a tremendous kick aimed for Thranak's chest. "I am Acacius Ebonheart. Aptly nicknamed thunder god," he answered as he took several steps back, swinging his spear sidewards as the electrical torrent surged over the armour. "Your godess is naught but your imagination," he stated with a soft sigh, before glancing at Nasrin. "If you know my name without my introduction, you also know that I am bound by honour to combat these fiends."

After that, Acacius silenced himself and stared back at Kranath, slowly approaching the dragon. There was no need for words now. This was a fight, the only speech would be the singing of their blades, rather than the petty squabbles of men.

Marakai Trin

Letting one hand loose fom his oversized katana, Kranath knocked the spear aside with a one handed, overhead slash, his dragons strength pushing it off course with ease. With his other hand, he met the kick with equal force, pushing off of it and willingly sliding backwards into the sand.

"Perhaps my speed has not returned yet to its fullness, so soon after my resurrection. And you have no knowledge of my Lady. She is real, and she is older than this ball of dust and water we stand upon."

He stood straight, his daikatanas blade coming to rest in the sand. His guard lowered, he lowered his head only slightly, glaring forward with had hellish red gaze of his. And then, an inky blackness began to cover that red light of his eyes, snuffing out the red glow.

His voice took on a void-like duality, as if two voices spoke at once - one was his, the other seeming to hail from the darkness itself, full of hate, radiating with dark, primal energy.

"And I will show Her to you, in all of Her dark glory. Witness the power of Tiamat, human, and remember all it is that you fear..." He then raised one hand, that extremity becoming covered in the same Eldritch lines as his face. Darkness seemed to converge around it, moving, alive, and those nearby would hear chaotic whisperings in the back of their minds, voices of the past begging for release, heated whispers of hatred and fear.

Eckhart_Von_Musel

Griselda scooted a few yards closer, jerky consumption rapidly increasing. This was getting really intense, and she was loving every second of it.

joylss

erstwhile, condolences offered confided in a man with hex abilities, let not the naive mind of a man as young as twenty-four seek assimilation through a lore beyond the grasp of mortal men. For justified is his words came to render true when ghastly voices haunted the core of his mind, soliciting repulse through the Stygian fracture of reserved memories.


Hence, the definition of such tactics hinders a man through shackles materialized by deeds of his sinful past. Atrocious be their sins, and haunted by past wrongdoings shall derange their frail minds. However, Nasrin is a man yet to commit the outrageous of commitments. And Kranath's spell would have been negated were it not for a single event ---- regrettable had he always been for the death of his lady mother, ere the cause, her last wishes were transcended and defied by her only son.


". . . ----!!"


Knees bend to cower as if kneeling before a god, Nasrin's teeth grits upon dawning realization. But, at lost he had yet consummate, for farcical would be his felony.

"Stop---Man of the vile, shall I speak of a proposition, would you not hear me out?" dispute were his words, even while he tried to lay terms of a truce. The magic of dragons are unparalleled, after all, and what should they seek to benefit from the death of any man? "Cease your attacks and hearken to me---what purpose have you to come here and conjure mayhem? To attain a zealot or to prevail in power? This Lady Tiamat you speak of, I believe her to be true; but, I would rather you be her messenger of word rather than seek her judgement in this earlier stage. Would you not tell me what she asks of you?"

Marakai Trin

A gaze as black as the void flicked over to level a stare at the man. This gaze was unreadable, the whites of his eyes completely overridden by darkness, the normal crimson replaced with a completely soulless shade.

One word was spoken, dripping with vile darkness and venom, laced with a power both arcane and primal.

No.

And so, Kranath released his spell, a cold, shapeless blot of pure black, travelling perhaps three feet before exploding outward into a shadowy fog, black enough to obscure the avatars body. Those affected would again hear the whispers of many hundreds, dead souls of Dragons crying out in eternal anguish, all of those absorbed by the Dark Lady to fuel her dark power, those myriad keys to her tomb of ice and stone in the heavens.

Above, the moon itself swirled with blackness, and amongst the screams, roars, and cries a dark peel of laughter could be heard, revelling in the pain of anguished, tormented souls.


(Gonna have to wait for Heretic...)

Medievarad

However, Acacius was not a man to just let Kranath do as he pleased. The instant the dragon rested his daikatana in the sand, lightning struck on the blade. And suddenly, Acacius was infront of Kranath, thrusting the spear forward, aiming to impale his stomach and rend through his vital organs. Between the dragon and his weapon.

And if that wasn't enough to interrupt Kranath's spell, he rammed the palm of his hand forward, lightning sparking in it. Acacius attempted to slam his palm into Kranath's face, grab it and send him flying, immediately pursuing with another bolt of lightning if this was succesful.

Marakai Trin

Kranath's eyes widened perceptively, the black pools of his eyes giving way to red once again.

He took a quarter second to look down at the spear jammed in his mid section, which proved to be a quarter second too long as a sparking palm smashed into his face, the following throw sending him flying backward.

He smiled, though, when he saw a second flash, flipping himself in midair and swinging his katana in a horizontal arc to dispel the incoming bolt.

The crystalline katana reflected and dispelled the energy with ease.

"So. For the moment, you're faster than me. A few days from now, a few kills, and you'll be child's play."

He stood up from his landing, black mist issuing forth from the hole im his stomach - it cleared momentarily, leaving behind flawless skin.

Ha. Vital organs. Yeah, okay.

Without another word, he rushed forward, black daikatana arching in an upward diagonal, aiming in a slash from Acacius' left hip to his right shoulder, followed by a spinning kick from the same angle.

(Sorry, work and adulting distracted me.)

Eckhart_Von_Musel

Griselda was at the edge of her seat. Magic fights were incredibly fun to watch, she had decided. Seeing this spectacle almost made her wish she had magic of her own. Griselda, however, had killed many a mage back in Zantaric and was well aware of how squishiness seemed to be a common trait in those born with magic abilities. No, she was much better off the way she was now.

Griselda reached for another piece of jerky, only to find she had just eaten her entire supply of food for this journey. Hopefully whoever lost this fight would have some food she could steal...

Medievarad

It was quite surprising. His foe still tought he had the time to talk. It didn't even take the second word to leave Kranath's lips or Acacius was already behind him in the air, circling his spear around to thrust it through his back, aiming to shatter the dragon's spine and pierce his heart.

Time to punish every mistake. There was no place for words in this battle. As soon as, and if, the attack had connected, even if it was but a graze, a tremendous surge of energy arced through the spear, aiming to impair Kranath's movements and burn his muscles out. After all, the force behind the jolt was enough to turn a regular human to dust in but the blink of an eye.

So far, this was combat by the book. Barely a warm up for Acacius. Madness and devotion was what drove Kranath. Stone cold, pragmatism was what Acacius practised. An aura hung about him. Filled with, nothing but cold, murderous intent. A speechless promise. Kranath, even his precious godess, would come to realize that Acacius had rightfully earned his title. And that he was not to be trifled with. He hadn't even released the full extent of his speed. Not even to mention his actual dragonslayer abilities.

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