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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Jan 14, 2014 1:07:30 GMT -6
His eyes shot open. The Clanless lifted his head up rapidly, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. Slowly and groggily, the Highland elf removed the stray locks from his face and took a look at his surroundings: gone were the dead trees, lined with neon energy streams like tears of martyrs, and gone was the black-robed figure he feared so much; all was replaced by the warm hearth a bit beside his chair, the wooden table holding his spilled drink, and the crumbs of his bread lying on the ground.
Just a nightmare. He pondered as he lifted his hands to his face, seeing their pale colour was back from the blue they were just a few moments ago. Was he right? Was it all just a bad dream? No. Too real. Far too real.
The elf stood up and adjusted his kilt over his trousers before turning about, when something caught his eye. An illusion, no doubt, but also a warning. A large black carrion fowl in the room, flying above the patrons. He knew what was coming for him.
The Raven would have his due.
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Xaen
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Post by Xaen on Feb 5, 2014 18:06:57 GMT -6
This local town. This... Wildgard.
It was a fascinating place, though swept now with ice and snow, somehow it was still cozy feeling. Even to her through her dead heart. Children often ran amok in this weather, now they made a sport of pegging the dead thing with snowballs.
Annoyed she let loose a ratting bark that frightened them off for a time being. Winter has frosted her breath making faint white puffed clouds from her decayed breath, a sigh had escaped her. She yearned to be mortal. The thought of warm drink and hot food entered her mind and she felt disheartened, she would never once more enjoy those mortal needs.
Regardless she enjoyed one thing in particular, smell. Even faintly blind she was able to see the shadows retreat into the local tavern. The one place she knew.
The one place where she felt 'normal'. Most patrons ignored her there.
Trekking through the snow she grasped the door with bony fingers, prying it open only to notice the pub was slightly dead. With a shrug she fumbled with her fingers before resuming her typical spot, in a shaded corner far from the living.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 6, 2014 22:06:17 GMT -6
As he stood up, the Wood Elf monk noticed a strange presence in the room: the feeling of despair and death. This was the feeling he wished to eliminate from the world, and hopefully those whom it affected. As he grabbed his blade from the table and left the coin for the barmaid to obtain, he turned towards the door--to where the despair he had felt was coming. What he set his eyes upon, however, was more than just despair.
Its skin, or rather the rotted remains, gave off the foulest of stenches: fouler than the fields on which many Wood Elf warriors of the Highlands of Briton had lost their lives in the Dwarven War. Empty eyes examined the room, and a bleached skull was protruding from its neck.
This...this wasn't despair. This creature was death incarnate. Even so, Faljere couldn't sense whether or not it was one who required serenity and peace in death, or if its death was already peace and serenity. Still, he couldn't help but continue staring intently, trying to figure the creature out as the warmth of the tavern brought sweat to his forehead.
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Xaen
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Post by Xaen on Feb 7, 2014 15:13:14 GMT -6
As a creature of darkness she payed little head to much. As the creature of death she typically ignored all.
A flash of silver was what caught her dead blank stare. A sword, not by mere man but of elvish origin. Those were dangerous; the cleaved through her flesh like a knife through air.
Although she had passed by she had felt the dark feeling of boring, a nagging in the back of her mind. The feeling of eyes, intent upon her form. It was a normal feeling most times but it bothered her sometimes, checking over her shoulder she had noticed that the tall slim elf had never left through the door from where she had entered. She was certain that like most people she had come across, that they would flee. Typically running across fields to get away from her.
Strange.
This being stayed and watched her back; with a slow move she moved her milky orbs from this stranger and resumed her task, sitting at her own table and staring at the oak tabletops. She envied the mortal yearn of food and drink, the countless tastes of varieties of food yet she had none of that. Ragged lycan ears pitched and swiveled around trying to get the basics of what the atmosphere was in this pub. If they were against her she would leave.
However for the most part it seemed quiet, almost rigid; still even as if no one dared move a muscle.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 7, 2014 22:16:45 GMT -6
Faljere couldn't help himself: something about the dead lycanthrope just enthralled him. Aroused his suspicion. Still, he could sense the despair like a tidal wave of energy washing over him.
He never initiated his own conversations, but he felt he wasn't going to get much from this one. However, perhaps if he were to sit down relatively close to her and patiently wait for her to initiate a conversation she would speak to him, and he'd be able to determine her true point of despair.
After all, he'd rather know whether or not to let this poor, pathetic, sick creature out of its misery before he acted rashly.
And so the elf sat down yet again in the corner of the tavern at his table, resting his blade against the stool, and pulled his hood up as his now-grey eyes gazed intently at the creature.
These grey eyes were those he knew well. They were the eyes of a killer, much like the eyes he had before his life as a monk, the eyes of every dwarf he faced in Silv-Anir, and his merciless rival the Raven.
Was this what he had become? No more than a killer?
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Xaen
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Post by Xaen on Feb 7, 2014 22:34:20 GMT -6
Almost as if a shadow had fallen, muting all those nearby, a haunt.
Milky orbs grazed over minute details on the wood surface before her but once more that itching nagging feeling drilled into her, the elf had never left. She knew that by now, his light but steady footfalls as he retreated over to a nearby adjourning table mentioned everything to her without having to look up once.
She heard the faint chink of the blade as it rested the heavy draft of his outfit as he moved to sit. She narrowed her dead eyes faintly flicking her tail that held more fur but still showed in some areas the bone that held it together.
The dark quiet was familiar even.. empowering. Fear was a thing she knew well.
The fear on the civilians, patrons, and the scent of it.
Though one stuck out uncertain, she could only presume who. Sharp pointed ears flicked and focused upon his general area. It wasn't hard to understand he seemed puzzled.. even curious perhaps; yet stubborn.
A wicked and dead smile appeared on her maw, she could out-wait him. She always did, being generally immortal she could sit here alone and watch as patrons, children and parents alike turned to ash before her if she really chose to.
Yet perhaps this wasn't the brightest idea; she was still new here, people were still uncertain if they should try to kill her or listen. With a ragged whistling inhale she pried her dead gaze from a knot in the table and looked back up. Staring at him with her dead eyes, those unmoving milky irises.
She would play this game of mute.
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Feb 8, 2014 0:10:15 GMT -6
"Faljere!" The elven bard called out as she entered the tavern. Recently she'd received word that her old friend Faljere-or as he liked to be called these days the Clanless-had been spending his time in the tavern, drinking and drinking but never getting drunk. He'd stare at the fire for hours before leaving under mysterious circumstances and then return in the dead of night only to spend the dark hours staring intently at the fire. Her old friend was gone, devoured by this incarnation of...dread? No...gloom? No...
Despair.
And lo! Her source was correct, as when she entered, she saw sitting quiet and alone the Celtic form of her old companion; however, his now-grey eyes weren't looking at the fireplace beside him. No, he was looking off in front of him towards another table, where sat a creature unlike any she could ever imagine. It resembled something canine that had crawled out of its grave after thousands of rotting years, its milky eyes sticking out from its bony lids.
Attempting unsuccessfully to avoid the gaze of the creature, Sarea made her way to Faljere. As she stood beside him, she pulled her hood off of her head and brushed the snow from her face before holding her hands down, each finger locked in with each other, giving him a playful smile and swinging her waist back and forth timidly.
"So, is this a new comrade, Faljere-friend?"
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 9, 2014 22:09:03 GMT -6
Faljere looked up at Sarea with great disdain. The girl saw that he was no longer the same man he once was, and still she pretended as if Faljere D'ael Elderbaden the friendly monk is no more, replaced by the living entity of emptiness and despair. In fact, it was quite irritating to have her standing there, pretending to be his friend.
He knew she couldn't help it: she was full of false hope. He was there when her wife was killed, and when the city of Birith-Nole was lost to the Dwarves. Of all the people he knew, she was filled with the most despair...well, leastways until he could find the amount of emptiness held within this dead creature in front of him. Either way, it saddened him to see one who was not ready to meet peace in any way, and the more cheery and kind she acted, the more she was hurting herself. The more she pushed peace away.
Faljere stood up and looked over at her. "No." was all that came out of his mouth as he grabbed his blade and headed over towards the dead-looking creature, not minding the eyes now on him.
Two creatures, each evading tranquillity. Maybe he could find out why this one had chosen to hide from peace, and he could help Sarea on her way to a better afterlife.
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Xaen
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Post by Xaen on Feb 10, 2014 15:27:58 GMT -6
Xaen broke her gaze for the time being, watching this new-comer. She seemed quite friendly despite the false appearance. The attitude was interesting between both mortals, the girl though seemingly playful and this male seeming as if he was just as Xaen's equal. Dead almost lifeless.
Faint shock brushed her feelings as she heard the male bark a stern no towards this female companion. Yet she watched as the male in swift actions drew his blade and loomed towards her very own table.
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Rough laughter erupted from Xaen.
'Faljere, is it?'
Xaen tried to stifle her chuckles as he came ever closer, it wasn't hard to mimic names when someone was so willing to shout it out.
'So quick to judge the dead, but never enough to judge your own.'
A perverted almost wicked smile touched her jaw, ears had perked forth and her skeletal fingers grasped the wooden table's edge. She shifted faintly in her seat before getting once more comfortable. She would wait, see how the livid elf would perceive this, even if he thought he was able to 'end' her life.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 13, 2014 1:10:51 GMT -6
As he neared the creature, he realised it had a demented grin forming on its face: it was speaking to him. Still, the elf had seen far more obscure things in the past, and yet not even those fazed him one bit. Instead, he was more interested in watching its mouth move as its strange voice spoke, almost fascinating him, were fascination possible for him to feel.
"I no longer go by that name. I am the Clanless. My aim is to judge everyone. To obliterate the despair within them and aid them in traversing to the land of true serenity...even if it is my blade that brings them there. And yet you seem so quick to judge the living...what despair is in you then?"
Even those words, despite the elf considering them even slightly comforting, sound like an icicle rubbing up against someone's spine, enough to send a shiver through the souls of most mortals; this one, however, wasn't mortal.
Another common trait, perhaps? He knew too many who'd transcended death itself, and such immortals have haunted him continuously. What harm would another do?
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Xaen
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Post by Xaen on Feb 14, 2014 12:36:43 GMT -6
Xaen gently shook her head. This lone elf sounded too hopeless, almost lost in the world of the living, as if he didn't yearn to belong; but more sought to be lost. A faint huff of disappointment swept through her as she listened to the pitiful tale this one put together. It was as if he tried to be an outcast.
'The Clanless?'
'Hmm..If you wish to obliterate the despair in beings around you, you should look into yourself first. Your own words sound as you put them akin to the was a priest would talk, or even a monk. However I am uncertain, and if you are or had been either. The typical rule in those was to reflect on yourself.
So what despair have you?
However if you wish to 'cleanse' me with your blade feel free, it won't get you far. I am cursed to live for an eternity and beyond. Many have tried before you. As to the right to judge I have it, as it was your kind.
Mortals who shunted me. Mortals who cursed me. Mortals who chased me. Mortals who drove countless blades within me. Mortals who burned me.
That is my despair, the lack of judgement that mortals have.'
She cast her head at a tilt and watched the elf. Curious on how he would react back otherwise she would take her leave as she still noticed the younger female in the distance who had first greeted this..this grief filled being. If anything Xaen pitied him, to go so far and not realize living was one of the greatest things in life itself. But to isolate it, to try and ignore what many enjoyed it was really saddened her. An elf too, one of the few creatures who embraced all of life. Dead or live, guardians of the forest and had superb powers in the arcane.
To see one so lost was disappointing.
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Feb 14, 2014 21:03:26 GMT -6
Sarea watched in helplessness as the two dead-whether actually both dead or just spiritually-beings gave each other the most deathly gazes. Faljere's soft voice spoke with great depression, and she knew he wasn't the same man. No, he spoke as if he'd seen naught but death for his whole life. Meanwhile, this dead creature in front of him spoke in such a way that seemed as though she welcomed both death and mortality; she seemed to dislike Faljere's mannerisms. However, it wasn't until she commented that he should try and obliterate the despair in her that she gasped, knowing that this 'new man' might actually do it.
"No! Do not coerce him so!" She rushed forward and lightly shoved Faljere aside to gaze upon the creature herself from a closer point. "This one...whom I used to call a friend...he has been through much, unlike any mortal. We wood elves tend to live just over a thousand years, but he's different. He's been cursed with immortality. He's had time to consider things...to live. Yes, he was a monk earlier on. But....I'm sorry. I must be sounding very rude." The girl shuffled around a bit and fixed her hair, but a few loose strands still fell in front of her forehead, running along her nose bridge. "My name is Sarea Riel Dirao. You spoke of not being able to die? Neither can he. I can, and therefore I cannot sympathize with your immortality. But I wish to help in any way possible, if you would permit it."
As she spoke, she thought of the reasons Faljere may not want to help, or perhaps why he had been acting like this. She knew death well enough, especially with her dead wife and having tried to kill herself once, but it was no reason to despise life, especially for those without it. Faljere had once put lives before his own...so perhaps he'd always thought of death, and the man he once was wasn't the real him. Perhaps this 'Clanless' was who his smiles hid.
Thinking and waiting for the creature's response, she fiddled with the ring on her middle finger nervously.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 14, 2014 21:52:57 GMT -6
As he regained his balance, Faljere shoved the girl aside again, although even if his was more slow and sluggish in appearance, it certainly sent her off of her feet. He looked down at her, sprawled across the floor of the tavern, and then back up at the creature.
"No. This blade won't help, will it? It certainly won't help me. If I am to rid the world of despair, I must be fully open to not solving my own. I know my despair, but the despair of others comes before my own...even with how much I have, there are those who aren't deserving of this despair. It remains with them for all of their lives, and even into oblivion if not resolved properly.
There are those who would rather see me dead and watch as the world fell into anarchy and despair. I know that this cannot happen. That is my despair: the world on the shoulders of one who has seen death and overlooked it. And so I ask aga--"
A sudden glimmer caught his eyes as he looked at Sarea on the ground, or rather at the ring on her middle finger: silver and blue, and not something that someone of this world had created.
The elf loomed over her, ignoring once again the dead one in front of him. "Where did you receive that wretched thing?" He boomed, his voice full of an unheard anger.
This ring...he knew it well.
It was the ring that would spread chaos. It represented his failure.
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Xaen
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Post by Xaen on Feb 15, 2014 16:24:27 GMT -6
Xaen grew content in her posture. Slacking to make others feel more comfortable. Though she had watched the female elf come sprinting over. This Sarea was a kind woman, though she had seemed to understand the feeling of loss. It saddened her but alas life was but a trickle compared to the openness of death.
'If he was so prompted he could try, but trying would only make me lose what bodily form I have. I too am immortal, I was cursed by a dark necromancer. He cursed me to live out an eternity as what I am now. Though as your friend may choose to bring his own grief, I chose to let mine pass with time. There is no fighting what you once had, but to let errors be errors. That is how you overcome most despair, rather than trying to eliminate it. You mend what you can.'
A faint chuckle erupted from Xaen.
'Miss Sarea, If I may call you such. You are not rude, just lightly protective. You wish to preserve what memories you can, and I respect such ideals.'
A fleeting smile crept across her features. Such as were elves, helpful creatures they were, and so delicate and prompt. But alas she would be unable to accept anyone's help, as is was nigh impossible to find the old necromancer who once cursed her. Only he was able to remove her curse, but even than it was almost difficult to remove a curse from bones. That and Xaen had no idea if the being still lived.
Though as she fiddled, she watched as this 'Clanless' as he spoke coldly. He sought nothing but a false goal, a goal most mortals themselves cured day in and day out. But in a crude way she herself understood it. He wished to clean the world from creatures that looked like her. That only brought despair.
Though it was just not the undead, but demon kin and many other creatures who yearned to see the world burn. Yet.. humanity was a fighting spirit, they adapted or they fought hard. It was not just a world's burden to himself but to many others as well.
She watched however as he lunged towards her suddenly and demanded about the ring. She hoped the young elf maiden would be able to deal with such a crude kin. But a faint sweep of anger touched her features. Xaen typically hated the outward show of such hostilities.
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Feb 15, 2014 22:47:28 GMT -6
Sarea looked up at Faljere: he truly had gone mad. A tear welled up in her eye, knowing that the ring was not something Faljere should have seen, and yet he had seen it. He knew what it meant. The girl quickly scurried to her feet and hid her hand behind her back.
"It's nothing! Just something I found back in Briton. You don't need to be concerned, alright?" She spoke, and rather aggressively at that, to Faljere, before turning back to the creature.
"I may not be able to help you with your curse, madam. It may be impossible for you to find this Necromancer again. But I wish I could help you in any way whatsoever, whether it be helping to find this necromancer, or just making your life...or rather what you still have of it, a pleasant one." She then turned to Faljere, giving him as tern yet innocent expression. "And you, my old friend, will help me help her. That will help your despair. This one is right: errors are errors, and so you mustn't dwell on those you couldn't save as an excuse to kill, even if you find it in the name of peace and sanity."
Only that way could you save yourself from the evil that is coming for you. She thought gravely to herself. She looked into his eyes and she saw it: he knew that his time had come...his death was finally come.
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