View Full Version : The River (LSU's Accepted) - M

6th September 2005, 10:29 PM
The River

The sign up and its plot and forms can be found here (http://www.pokemasters.net/forums/index.php?topic=42764.0). Please do not repost your character forms, as it is unnecessary. If you wish to join, we have unlimited non-human spots and three human spots remaining.

1. The only limitations to what you create in this world are:
1a. There are no other humans, though humanoids are acceptable.
1b. The time period of The River world is medieval.

2. Try your best not to manipulate another player's character incorrectly, but if it happens, it is unnecessary to give any information for future reference or send them a private message to tell them to change it. In this situation, simply write your own reaction so that it shows that the player's character misinterpreted your character's actions.

3. The Mature tag does not stretch farther then implied sex, semi-graphic violence, and moderate profanity.

4. If you do not notify me via a method I will take notice of (private message or the Away Topic are preferred), I will boot you from my roleplay if you do not post once every five days. I understand that there are extenuating circumstances, but these will be under extreme scrutiny for their validity.


As is, the only thing you need consider as a human with your first post is the fact that you must be inside the River World by the end of it. Everything else is your call. The order in which you post determines who is in The River World when.

For non-human characters, just begin as you please. If you need a little guidance, think introduction. Tell us "who" your character is. What is their purpose?

= Joseph Faust =

A single lolling tongue of frigid water rolled itself over in my mind, a wave of nausea that bit at my senses and threatened that my will (for once) might incapacitate my body. Each time I blinked I saw it for a split second, a sea goddess' breath upon the barren wasteland that was the inside of my head. The broken plain with all its little cracks... A single notion dissuaded my normal function, tripping my thoughts in a cruel cabaret of a mountain lake's lucidity. There are two reasons a man cannot sleep. The first is a conscience that longs to finish its path of righteousness. The second is a conscience racked with guilt. At this point, it was all too fluid for me to tell which it was. A throbbing awoke me a little, pain reminding me that I, at least, was alive. A few drops of blood fell to my hand, and a spark like that which started a storm traversed the length of my spine. The blood... it was... mingled.

Suddenly the surrealism dropped away in a liquid moment, the shards scattering and my brow raising. Risen to the sweltering heat. In the distance there was a single sliver of woodland, or at least that's what it appeared to be. I wasn't in the desert, but the fields might as well have their own ability to create mirages. Of course, a sane man sees mirages. An insane one sees nightmares. Choices, choices...

I reached the road and did a double-take, skimming across the areas the piercing rays of the sun touched. Searching... searching for any signs of life. Nothing. Then... a field mouse emerged from the thicket at my right. The brush was tangled and obtuse, jutting from the ground like a miniature forest. The rodent took one look at me and bounded back into the underbrush. I waited several seconds and felt a pinprick of pain, like a mosquito bite. Then, a cat trotted out of the briar with the dead mouse clamped in its maw. After that, I didn't stop again to look behind.

I was running again in a minute and I reached the stripe of woodland in record time, taking into account the steep incline of the forest and jumping rather clumsily over several rocks on its outskirts. Fragments of some ancient rock wall, one the forest had reclaimed over time. Among these convex artifacts stood a single metal stake, a pink ribbon fluttering drearily in the light breeze. This was clearly private property, but that concern was above me. In my mind's eye, the ribbon turned red and was thrown to the wind in a fierce gust. No more. Trespassing or not, however, I couldn't help the deep sense of foreboding that overtook my heart. I had never trusted emotions, intuition. Symbolism and vague messages had their time. It was time for me to take control over whatever tattered remains of a cushioned existence remained. Forget the deeper mysteries. Today was a day for logic... and reason. Discarding the foreboding, the only warning I knew, I took a single cautious step into the wood. Another followed, my right foot slightly lame. My limp had manifested early, which only meant bad news. I would travel at night.

Carefully now, still a little startled and not knowing why, I took a few more steps. It must have been me and my own preferences, but in the forest the light faded away as suddenly as it came. Under the trees the sun wasn't as hot. I wasn't ready to take full reciprocity on my notion that it was causing hallucinations, though, as the calls of strange birds invaded my hearing. Once I thought I saw a flickering image of a maiden, even. She was in a white dress, or had it been black? As I tried to recall the details, her memory vanished. The pit-a-pat of her steps among the wood echoed in my head, soft and sound, loud and purposeful. They changed as she did, and then she was gone. I was left alone again, following the tree line deeper.

It wasn't long before the last sign of the hay fields faded and I was left only with trees and silence. Wait, it shouldn't be silent. Unless my presence was disturbing them, I couldn't understand a place where the animals weren't avidly about their business. Silence was golden, indeed, and I cherished the moment. My suspicions from my first steps here reaffirmed themselves, but I shunned them away. There was safety here... or at least I thought so. There were far more places to hide among the green.


I was amazed at the wood's size. I had imagined it small, but now it seemed the size of my cynicism. As the day drew on, and the hours passed away, a sliver of shadow began to grow on the horizon. Like a single canoe on a placid lake, my footsteps were hardly interrupted by the call of the wild. It was not as dead as before, but it was if a tension hung in the air... slick and implacable as ice. Still, even with my fostering freedom, nothing shook this meandering. Over every crest was another tree, tall and towering. The floor was even gloomier for them, but I didn't mind. The melancholy in my blood blended well with the fallen leaves. All was little, until a distant trickle caught my attention.

It persisted. I tried to leave it, to walk away, but it remained clear. It never faltered, never hastened, never increased in volume. However, the sound of water was unmistakable. I gathered up my canteen and peered inside with an evil eye. A few stray drops were all that was left. I would need water if I wanted to get anyway, especially if I hoped to find my way out of this green snare. Gradually, I gave in and followed its lilting voice. Gradually, I climbed a steeper incline than before. The terrain grew a bit rougher, and I nearly fell face first into a few upturned boulders. They were in an odd position, even without significance as they were. It was long, but time slowly gave away the secrets of the noise. A little stream came into view.

The sound did not grow louder. It never faltered, as I said. However, as I closed upon this little stream... I found it was not so little. It would have been a roaring river had it not been for the meager wave of its bowels. The surface was clouded, not mudded, but gray. It was as if a smoke bomb had gone off and hung itself in the cords of the creek, growing and infecting the whole length of it. I didn't bother to pull off my clothes, as I had reached a point where it seemed sufficiently shallow. Only in to the knee, it took but a moment to casually stroll to the monster's center. Here, it was strangely calm. I could hear rapids up ahead.

I bent over and filled my canteen with no fuss and no hassle, uncharacteristically. Realizing, I removed my sandals and strode to a portion of the river just a little deeper. Diving under, I washed the stain and pungent scent from my clothing. I left them on, refusing to lose the only thing I could carry on my back for the time being. They would dry like Satan himself had bestowed them some heat as soon as I found the sun again. I came up for air fleetingly and grappled with the tide for the dirt bank, finding it and putting an arm on it. I brought myself up to eye level and rose out of the water. It was but a footfall before it ended.

My soul skipped forward a leap and my heart stopped. A choking sensation rattled my body and what I saw in horror as some sort of seizure overtook my limbs. Ghoulish and garish images circulated my vision, portrayals of man's accomplishments and strange, runic messages I couldn't understand. Memories I hadn't know raced through my head. In a single teardrop, I felt a bit of my brain tear. Suddenly, I couldn't remember what my voice sounded like. What my face looked like. I couldn't assure I was whole. I struggled with all my will to reaffirm these things, to return to fact. It wasn't the case, and I couldn't. My eyes were a vice as soon as the urge to struggle had reached my nerves, and my feet no longer stood on solid ground. It felt like I moved, but didn't. It was as if I had phased from one room to another without really leaving. A melodious cry rattled my throat, but I wasn't sure if it was my own. Feelings, tastes, textures, pungent scents and fragrant disasters, an eyeful of tender horror, all mixed into one. And just as it started, it stopped...


My body was still standing, stock still. My eyes were shut. My mind was shut. I could feel solid ground but disregarded it, wondering, and trying to catch one wisp of that experience. Had I disliked it? I supposed I had, but suddenly everything was gray. And then... vision.

As my body awoke, never really having slept, a sudden realization rocked my body with avid hesitation. That time in darkness, and that sensation, had been only a blink of my time. The blink of an eye, and it was different. It was as if someone had swept the hand over the Earth and said, "Change!" A snowflake burst my reverie, oddly warm against a pallid cheek. I stood, no longer in a forest but looking at one about half a mile away down a wintry knoll. Everything had fallen away so fast, that all I could do to comfort my senses was stick my tongue out like when I was young... a single flake graced my tongue, and melted. Then it was real, and as a fickle mind took its time to come to its senses... I rebounded. Turning, I faced a rock wall, towering but not to the sky. Long, but how far I didn't know. The end was obscured by gray sea mist. The atmosphere was buttered with sorrow. Staring into that blank stone, I muttered words I didn't pay attention to. I looked deep into it, searching for some crack or texture. There was none. A second later, I was just alone. That was all. My abilities became nothing except... "wait and hope."


7th September 2005, 03:22 AM
Your amazing post inspired me Plantae ^-~
Oh also, you forgot to add my character into the list of humans.

~Lily O’Keefe~
Dreaming your life away...

Just drifting through life. Drifting, like a river, always changing, never changing. Always the same thing but never the same water. Some say I just let life pass me by, I just let things drift past. Was that really a bad thing? Should I let myself become disturbed over little things? Didnt everything always work itself out in the end?

They always said I was a dreamer. They said I dreamed things, and saw them in the world around me. They said I made my dreams on paper, to show to other what went through my head. What drifted through I should say. Like a river. Creativity flooded everything I did. Dreams constantly flooded my mind, so it seemed to be my own reality. The truth of how things were flowed depending on the day, depending on my thoughts at any given moment. I surrounded myself with the beauty of what I could never live. For though I dreamed I knew what reality was.

Reality was waking up to a face-less world. Slaving yourself to a nine to five schedule, everything scheduled, everything structured. Reality wasnt curved flowing lines, it was blocks, angles, everything perfectly measured and perfectly proportioned. Reality was ordered, tamed. I hated it. Every day waking up a little part of me died, every time I went to my boring job, did the menial tasks I was assigned, I wanted to die. Or I should say I would. But I didnt live on this Earth, in this reality. I made my own, one that changed every day. One that was never boring, one that had curved lines and soft edges, misty regions that left parts of the world to the imagination. You could never see the whole thing, and I liked it that way. It always left you wondering what was out there, what lay past the mist. If anything lay past the mist.

Id often go to that misty region in my mind, walk to the edge of the flowing river, but Id never put my feet in. It was as if I was afraid, as if once my foot touched the water I would never be able to leave. But one day I realised, what if I didnt want to leave. What if I wanted to plunge in the misty depths, sink to the bottom, let the flowing waters drift around me. What if I liked the idea of looking up at the surface, seeing the pale light filter down, and know I could never rise up again? What if I were to become entangled in the green undergrowth of the rivers bed, cucooned, sleeping in my dreamland? Would I be lost, or would I be truely found?

I stood at the edge of the river again, but today was different. Today I was going to jump in, despite a lingering silly fear of the unknown, of not knowing exactly what I was getting into. That was part of the reason, I was sick of the predictable life I had until now. I was going to find out what that river was like today, find out how warm or cool the water was, find out what was beyond the mist in my mind. I was going to, literally, plunge headfirst into the unknown. Closing my eyes, I stepped to the edge of the mist in my mind, and jumped in.

Then reality kicked in. A sudden new reality, I felt the water, felt it swirl. I felt the burning in my lungs as I tried to breathe like I had been a moment earlier, sitting in my boring house. But I felt I was no longer there. Opening my eyes I saw water, gray water with green growing things on the bottom of the river. Looking up I saw the pale light filtering down. I was no longer dreaming.

Gasping for air at the surface, I looked around. It was all there, like the place in my mind. Only it was real. The misty edge was there, the flowing waters. However it happened, I had gone to that secret place in my mind, only it wasnt in my mind anymore. And something else was different this time too. Always this place was my solitary one, I went here mentally to be alone. But today someone else was here too, a guy, standing wet and dripping at the edge of the river, looking as if he was lost. I smiled, because even though I was confused as to what had happened I knew I wasnt lost.

I was finally found.

Hope thats ok for first post ^-^()

7th September 2005, 03:01 PM
Oooh, I'm so damned pissed... *kicks computer* I had half of a post and this piece of shit locked up on me… and now I can’t remember most of what was in it.

For the full effect of this post, check out the song "Dig Up Her Bones" by the Misfits. The video, which I haven't seen, is on launch.com.

[color=#a0ffff]Sara Raize

Life is unpredictable. It can go so fast from frame to frame that you can’t even see the movie in the making, or it can be so slow that it makes advertisements during a sporting event seem exciting.

Sometimes it's like a lazy river, and other times it's like a white-water rafting trip. Unfortunately, there isn’t any sort of warning as to when a relaxing life is about to take the plunge into chaos.

Like my life. Right now, I ran both literally and metaphorically, my feet blistered and thoughts jumbled as I tried to tear from the snare that my life had become. I wondered as to my sanity, and I wondered what would become of me. All I knew is that nothing would get me to go back, to return… I would keep running until…

I didn’t know exactly ‘until’ what, and it mattered little to me at the moment. If my feet became half as broken as my spirit, then I wouldn’t be able to run anymore… but I could run for now, and that was what I did.

I didn’t know where I was. I had run from… back there… and I was going to whatever was before me. I had left any semblance of civilization far behind me and it was a wonder that I hadn’t fallen and twisted or, even worse, broken my ankle as I ran through forested wilderness in my boots. I had left before sundown, and sunrise wasn’t far off. My endurance amazed me, but fear was a powerful motivator. The only traces of the tears were part of the saline residue plastering my hair to my face; sweat stuck my hair to my neck as well.

I had to get out, no matter where I ended up.

I couldn’t hear, could barely see, and, thankfully, couldn’t feel much. I blundered through the predawn darkness, unaware of my surroundings; my only impulse (for it was too strong and too undefined to be a thought) was to survive.

Then I was aware of the ground dropping off beneath my feet, and I was thrown down the bank of a creek to fall, face down, in the water. The current picked up, and rather suddenly, as if it was waiting for me, and I was swept downstream. The water became deeper, and the flow of the water tumbled my body about as if I was a doll. I was helpless against the pull and gave in, letting the current, like life, to take me where it would.

My head was thrown against a rock and searing pain shot through my skull; the water around me was tinted slightly red. I drifted in and out of consciousness and eventually became vaguely aware that the river’s course had slowed… I should have died by now, drowned, but I was alive, or at least I thought so. Again, I began to wonder, unable to do anything about my condition, when I was lifted out of the water and turned over onto my back. Someone was giving me cardiopulmonary resuscitation, trying to get me to breathe again… I coughed and opened my eyes to a blurred world.

Krystalline Kabutops
7th September 2005, 10:27 PM
|/-< Dezerae Forsan >-\|

The woods are a sinister place. I don't care what the naturalists or the poets have to say on the subject - they're wrong. In the woods, it seems like the trees have eyes, and their branches try to grab at you, pull you into the undergrowth to be slowly consumed. But most important of all, the woods are cubic. You know that you're in an enormous space, but it's something that you can't verify. And this all-encompassing, if unprovable, sense of space, brings something very unpleasant with it.

It's easy to get lost in the trees.

This was, unfortunately, my current situation. I had gone mountain-bike riding on the trails that filled the woods around my neighborhood, despite the fact that almost everything that possesses a domicile here will leap at the chance to bite, sting, maul, or fall on me. I needed to clear my head. Life was not pleasant at the moment, and I had finally realized that the outdoors could provide the perfect escape.

If only I'd known how right I was.

My bike's back wheel caught on a root, or maybe a rock, or, I rather maliciously hoped, a squirrel. Whatever it was, I didn't get the opportunity to see it; I was flung by my own momentum off of the bike, through the air, and in what must have been the first stroke of good luck my life had ever held, into a river.

I was grateful for not having had my head rammed into a tree, or shattered on a rock, but it was with growing tension that I realized that this river was stronger than I could cope with. I had swum a lot as a child, but as I had grown older, I had abandoned the water for the cliffs. Fate, or karma, or whatever, seemed to have caught up with me, as I was pulled under by the powerful current. I struggled for a moment or two, trying to get my hands or, better yet, my head above the water, until my vision finally went black, lack of oxygen forcing my brain to shut down.


When I awoke, I immediately realized that something was amiss. The sky was gray, as was everything else in my range of vision. Sitting up, I took in what little there was to see; Mists, water, and a gray landscape, devoid of vegetation. If I had been in a better mood, I would have made a comment about not being in Kansas any more.

Weasel Overlord
8th September 2005, 04:45 PM
[COLOR=palegreen]~Tryfan Wen~
‘When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see?’

I padded through the darkened streets, my feet not feeling the small shards of glass and muck that littered the ground, grown so accustomed now to the rough feel of the ground beneath them. I breathed in the unnatural scent of the city and knew I wanted more. Smoke. Unnatural. Tarmac. Abhorrent. The hordes of faceless people wending their sorrowful ways through the unfeeling crowds.

‘In every cry of every man, In every infant’s cry of fear, In every voice in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear’

Had not Blake once written those words? And never a truer word was said, in my view. I hated the city with an all-consuming passion and every minute of my time was spent inventing ways of escape. In my dreams I ran the wending routes, once so familiar to me, but in the Dream-land, they twist and confuse until nothing is certain. Nothing ‘cept the fact that I must escape. The urgency fills me more every day, and, like a jug that is full to the brim, one day, I must overflow. How I pray for that day, not prone to religion, I hope with a blind faith that some higher power will strive to grant my wish and spirit me away from here, never to return.

I long to hunt as I meander the streets. Hunt as men once did before they were confined to their concrete prisons of the mind and soul. The prison was everywhere. Especially in literature. The writers whose words I felt deep within me knew. Call it what you will. London. The Wen. There are many names for our folly, but all mean the same in the end.

Prison. Whether of the mind, the body, or the fragile soul. Orwell knew it in his 1984. Wilde knew it in his Dorian Gray. The prison is everywhere and I long to escape.


A simple word, but one that means so much. I toss and turn in my Dream-land, walking the paths of the city once more. I feel as if I will walk them forever...something inside me snaps at this thought. Like a wild beast tears at chains, not understanding that there is no way out, only caring for the freedom that awaits him. I sleep as I wake. Walking. Ever walking. One day, maybe I will be free. Maybe I will walk the paths of the city until my bones grow old and grey. Maybe I will take a chance upon freedom. Dive into the River, as it were, of freedom. A dam opens within me, rushing and whirling. Tearing away all memories and Dream-thoughts. I wince away from the water’s edge. Fearing that which I have wished for all my life.


My inner voices mocked and taunted.

”You wouldn’t dare...”

I scream in defiance, my slow lope turning into a helter-skelter run. I will not walk the city any longer. No longer will I hunt the elusive freedom.

I dash to the city edge, all Dream-thoughts gone from my mind as if they had never been. I threw off the shackles...the mind-forged manacles...and I run. I run as if the very jailers of my prison chase me. Headlong and blind, I wend my way between trees and natural things that could never make their home in the Prison. I breath in the green air and sigh as I come to a cliff.

“Freedom.” I taste the word with my mouth. Turning slightly, I run a little way back towards the Prison. Stopping, I shudder and turn back...towards the rushing that encompassed my freedom.

Gaining speed, I ran, and with a blithe shout, I performed the most perfect swan-dive over the pinnacle. Heading towards the deluge that awaited me, rocks gleaming like a perfect set of teeth waiting in a gaping mouth for my fall. I tilted my body slightly, arcing towards the River. Plunging under, I gasped, the cold taking my breath away. Recovering, I swam a little way, to escape the current. By this time, I was too tired to stroke properly and I let the current take me.

As I whirled by the banking, I saw a small group of people, their ashen faces stark against the greenery. One was upright in stature but she looked slightly confused, as if she had been plunged into an alien community. Two others were nearby, one wandering near the forest and the other kneeling on the ground, as if in shock, and then there was a third. She was, well, buxom was the word I'd usually use, but I felt like being respectful. And plus, she looked kinda battered, as if she had lately had a brush in with a hard wall.

I grappled with a passing rock and slowed my progress enough for my screaming muscles to do their work. A few tired strokes later and I was laying on the grassy banking, gazing at the dull sky. One of the others appeared in my field of vision, upside down from my point of view.

I grinned slightly, despite my exhaustion, as she grew closer, her eyes seemingly magnified, as if I were looking through a telescope. She proffered a hand and smiled in return. Reaching up, I grasped her arm and she pulled me into the sitting position.

“It seems I am not the only one finding my way here today...” I grinned and gazed round at the others. A motley bunch they looked, but I couldn’t be more grateful...

“Free”...I whispered.


Hee hee...this is fun!! *claps* I'm gonna enjoy this RP!!!

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
9th September 2005, 05:00 AM
"I am only practicing the
way to say goodbye
to you."
Hela remembers her father constantly. Maybe not the important things, but always the smallest details of him: the way he couldn't smile without his smile being crooked, the way he never had to hide, his bravery that hinged on audacity, the pointedness of his nose and ears. The way he made everything all right. Propinquity his favourite word. It was the propinquity of this, the propinquity of that, all the time. As if using a bombastic word made him smarter than others, which he was. Father always had a clever look about him. The reflections of firelight in their wattle and daub house disappearing in the depths of his eyes, which held an internal fire that never burnt out.

He had left her one day when the island was covered with fog from the sea, thick and heavy, impossible to navigate through.
"You won't miss me," he told her with his crooked smile. He gave her the dagger, then, and walked away into the fog. No promises to come back soon. No witty little anecdotes about the proper use of blunt daggers. He did not turn behind.
"I will," she said in a small voice to his retreating back.

She still does. She asks herself why he left. She only ever wanted everything to stay the same. She travels back and forth about the island looking for him. She is nearly satisfied that he has left this plane, crossed the river, but where? why? how? and she does not know enough of what her father is, insufficient to question others about his presence. People don't remember crooked smiles. They need a species. A history. A name. She doesn't know her father's name.

She doesn't like to go back to their house in the fire country. She only goes back when it rains, because in rain the whole island is wet and dangerous except the fire country. The fire country is a glade of dead trees in the hinterland of the island, and their house is in the middle of the circle of dead trees. Dryads will not live where there have been fire creatures because of the ever-present danger of themselves catching fire. So all the trees are dead near their house. This loneliness is partly why she avoids the house, but it is not the main reason.

Every night she finds a different place to sleep in. The animals don't bother her because of her fire, and the other creatures keep to themselves, mostly. She likes most to perch on the top of the tallest trees in the forest, if the owner of the tree lets her. The feel of the hidden spark in the heart of any tree is comforting.

Fire-making is a skill she has had from birth. She was born in a breath of flame, burning so violently that her legs were consumed in seconds. Her father found her new ones but they were dead. Because of this she is sometimes frightened of her own fire. She uses it sparingly and her magic is underdeveloped.

The only spell she uses with any sort of frequency is the divining of oracle bones. Father always used bones from the unicorn's graveyard, because he had done the unicorns some favours in the past, but she is not sure if they would accord her the same delicacy, and she uses her dagger instead. She kindles a small fire on the floor of the cave she is temporarily occupying for the day and throws the dagger in.

When the cracks and bumps rise on the blunt blade she reaches into the fire and runs her fingers over them. Oracle bones rarely gave coherent answers to what she wanted to know. She can usually find out the answer to her question, though, because there is only one question that she asks and with daily repetition of the same patterns of cracks she has grown to understand what kind of answers she will get.

My father is not here. That was for certain. But there was something else, a crack on the end of another crack. A sort of postscript. Insignificant and unnoticeable unless you were familiar with the feel of the bone.

There are new creatures present...
Argh, first-post pointless drabble. The biology trials kind of pan-fried my brain all over again from last time... please feel free to make noise if there's problems with the geography of the island that I made up in my post.

10th September 2005, 03:09 PM
Sorry, but I'm going to have to withdraw from this RPG. I'm just not feeling any inspiration for it, and I don't feel I'd be capable of making quality posts for it. So yeah... You can just open up the spot or whatever :sweat2:

12th September 2005, 11:14 PM
I ended that on a bad note, so I'm reposting it with a slight change to the ending. Would one of you mind taking it from here? Feel free to follow, or disagree with my character as you please. It is your choice, after all.

= Joseph Faust =

It was an ironically short span of time before another crossed the wall I had entered through. At first, the only thing either of us had been able to do was exchange glances. As if to say, "Who the hell are you, and where the hell am I?" It wasn't in my nature to be friendly, but when the girl offered a hand I was obliged to accept it. "I'm Lily O'Keefe," she muttered, both of us still a little obtuse from our personal encounter with the river. As first impressions go, there didn't seem anything curious about her at all. Light red hair and green eyes, and a supple body. Her apparel accentuated her curves seductively, and I shot a quick glance up and down the rest of her body. I just couldn't help myself. Whether I was attracted to her or if I was just taking it in, preparing myself for seeing that near constantly, I didn't know.

After a pause in which she let go of my hand with a small expression of mock embarassment, I managed to eke out my name, but my subconscious intervened, and the words that came out were, "Mathias Hausen." Pressed for a name, a bit of German had connivingly wiggled its way in. She nodded, pleased at the introduction. She opened her mouth, seemingly to elaborate, but it was but a moment before a battered woman fell through the wall seperating the worlds.

Lily was briefly shocked, and I quickly bent over to gather the severe fair-skinned woman on the ground. She flailed as if trying to swim, likely a device of the river, as I moved her several feet over into a more comfortable position. Her deep red hair dangled wildly, and at any other time I might have noticed her voluptuous build. Gently, I checked her pulse, and when she appeared to still be breathing, reached deep into my memory in an attempt to remember resuscitation techniques. An expert would have looked at my attempt and laughed, but she came to in several moments by herself and sat up, spluttering and clutching her head.

"Where am I?" She asked feebly, but a dignified tone was already returning to her voice along with a rather sultry expression.

I allowed Lily to reply, remaining quiet and observant. "Neither of us really know..." she trailed off, before inserting, "This is Mathias and I'm Lily," she said, gesturing to herself, and I nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "What's your name?"

"Sara." She stated it simply, choosing to leave out her surname, likely waiting for our own before she made a move. In the dead silence that followed, I glanced at the darkening sky as Lily struggled with some kind of response. She was cut off as yet another entered our motley crew, this one falling straight through the wall and onto her side with a dull "thud!" Upon impact, she immediately awoke and made a brief upward motion, clawing for something. Then she was calm, caught an eyeful of the three of us, and scrambled up into standing position. She teetered, a little dizzy. It might have been the light, but she seemed a little younger than the other two. Lily, who was more or less becoming the official greeter, shuffled over and stuck out an awkward hand to the black-haired teen, moving from one foot to the other in the process.

"Hello, I'm Lily."

The newcomer pulled her hand back at the sound of Lily's lilting, polite mannerism and quickly muttered... "Dezerae."

She gazed upon Sara, who gave a slight wave and her own name. Passing to me, she smirked as I refused to greet her. Instead, I offered, "It's getting late." I turned my back to the group and walked a fair distance away, peering downward towards the forest.

I wouldn't have backed away, but I was struggling with a sudden hearing acute enough to hear the grain in the rest of their voices. Suddenly, I literally felt another fall through the wall. This one, I decided, must be the last one. It was more of inherent knowledge, but I just hoped that there weren't any more.

“It seems I am not the only one finding my way here today...” Lily muttered, and I heard skin on skin as she pulled the newcomer into standing position.

It was lighter, softer, quieter then that I heard the male that had just entered. He hadn't bothered to introduce himself yet, but across that span between us, I heard the barely caught word, "Free." At that moment, I realized just what this world was. Suddenly, I didn't care to return at all. Suddenly, it was an escape. My reason, survival instincts, returned in an instant. Quickly now, staring at the lowering horizon, I strode back to our little group and commanded.

"We need a fire." The new arrival pointed at the forest suggestively, I shook my head. Appointing myself temporary leader, I ordered again, "Gather some kindling from the edges, the far edges. I don't like the looks of that place." Turning out my pockets, I showed the group a flint stone and piece of steel from my pocket. "Anyone keen to using these?" I flipped over my hands, displaying blistered palms. "I'm not exactly capable."


13th September 2005, 01:37 PM
Sara Raize

"And who made you leader, boy?” I shot back at the young man who had taken charge. Given, someone needed to, but I didn’t like his attitude at the moment, and there was something about him that really didn’t ring true.

I frowned, my forehead wrinkling in concern. "Where the hell is this place, anyway? And why are we all here? I mean, what are the chances of five people ending up in the middle of nowhere at the same time?”

I struggled to my feet, something that, under normal circumstances was difficult due to my top-heavy frame and was nearly impossible with my head spinning the way that it was. I was still taking in my surroundings, and my companions. Two men… three women…

If there was something as freaky going on as I suspected, we’d be here awhile. One girl was going to be the odd one out, and it wasn’t going to be me. My inner voice kicked in and reminded me of what I had gone through since dusk of the previous day… or, what would have been the previous day, I supposed. Then again, old habits die hard.

Snapping back to the present, I took the steel and flint from his hand, just barely brushing his skin. I sensed a slight flash of discomfort from him, but ignored it. For now, we needed to set up for the night. Once that was done... well, then we'd have to see.

"I can do that; we need tinder, you know, light twigs, leaves, something that will catch quickly. It needs to be dry, though..." I said, surveying the surrounding ground and kneeling to gather dried plants and create a tent-shaped pile. Lily was eager to help and got a little to close to me; I shot a glare at her that would have stopped even the bravest man in his tracks.

Too many women... and I was a lusty whore.

14th September 2005, 09:57 PM
Way to develop your character, Drusilla. "and I was a lusty whore..." Brilliant!

= Joseph Faust =

Apparently I'd irritated Sara. That was a mistake. I needed to switch strategies, and immediately, as being a sarcastic bastard wouldn't get me anywhere. Even if it came naturally, that is. I needed to invent a story, and quickly. It would only be a matter of time before the more open of us five began sharing a bit, and not saying anything would only look incriminating. If I wanted to keep my nerve, I needed to think like a lawyer, not a convict.

In my contemplation, the other four were busy. Lily was tenatively approaching Sara, who shot back a glare in response. Despite the situation, that reaction made me smirk jovially. It was one of my skills to be apt at judging emotions, so seeing the look of lust that was so misplaced on Sara's face was rather hilarious. I was one of those people everyone was annoyed by, due to their quality of reading minds. You couldn't explain your frustration when someone finished your sentence.

Setting my own inside jokes aside, I strolled a little too purposefully over to Sara. She posed another of her glares that might become infamous in time, but I didn't move a muscle. I made brutal eye contact, but neither of us was about to look downcast. "I apologize for my insolence earlier. I don't want to be making any rivals, and I can see that you were perturbed by my 'survival' attitude." She emitted a loud "hmph" as she studied my eyes, but if she was unsettled, she didn't show it. It'd be pretentious of me to say I was quite deceptive, but I could hope that she didn't sense anything but sincerity behind my words. They certainly came out like a genuine apology. That was important, as it reminded me that I was (more or less), still human. Finally, she resumed setting the tinder and working at the flint and stone, likely satisfied. My gait was dignified as I retreated, nearly sure that she had given whatever forgiveness her demeanor was allowing.

I resumed my watch of the forest, and gave a slight turn of the corner of my mouth when a twig snapped in the pitch cathedral of trees. A single pair of blue eyes, likely deer, penetrated the gloom. We had company, it seemed. The question was: were they hostile?


Krystalline Kabutops
15th September 2005, 10:56 PM
|/-< Dezerae Forsan >-\|

Wordlessly, I began collecting wood from the edges of the forest. The others in our group were tense people, and I sensed that they weren't entirely truthful. I had never been one for joining groups - I preferred to watch the hierarchy, not assume a place in it. It would be no different now. As soon as I had found a sufficient amount of wood, I brought it over to where Mathias and Sara were getting a fire going. I dropped it next to them with a dull "thunk", and took a seat on a stone nearby.

Not much, but better than nothing... Been busy >_>;

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
16th September 2005, 09:28 AM

There are a lot of things that Hela can read from fire. She may not be able to create burning infernoes, or massive walls of fire, such as her father had told her of and never shown but once, but she sees the nature of fire, which in turn reveals the nature of the ones who made it. She does not hesitate to read the innate character of people, which just goes to show how much of a child she still really is.

Her father had found her innocence refreshing. He had never told her about the darker side of things, a regrettable slip on his part. Through her eyes, the world is still the proverbial rose-tinted panorama.

In the fire of the five new creatures she sees hope and confusion and resignment and all the dark things she doesn't know the words for but feels instead and she is afraid. She shouldn't have come here in the first place, but she wanted to look for herself and be able to tell herself for certain that her father was not there. Even bones can be mistaken. Maybe she had read the cracks wrong. Maybe the creatures knew where her father was. In Hela's vocabulary maybe is a powerful word.

Of the five creatures two are taller and dress differently from the others; she takes these to be male. The other three share the similarity of being female, but their countenances vary widely: one, with ruddy hair, seemed friendlier than the other two; one more had a stern sharp face and looked to be courting in an odd manner; and the last one was quiet and dark. Between the two males she likes the green-haired one better. The thin one with the shifty eyes was dangerous.

She is hiding high up in the hollow of a tree that nobody wanted much to live in any more after it had been struck by lightning in one of the few real thunderstorms Hela had weathered in her relatively short life. Hiding: hiding is her only talent. She can move so quietly that a unicorn could not sense her footsteps; live in a hole in a rock for as long as it took to get a rabid wolf off her trail; disappear in the winding fog-paths of the swamp with ease. These were things she could not learn because her only teacher never hid, would not hide, announced his arrival with whistles and stompings and talk.

After the fire she thinks she wants very much to hide, properly. Far away. She is thinking, maybe the house. Maybe again. Does she want to risk the house, to hide from these creatures that are like her but not like her? The house and its rooms that go on forever. She slept once in the house since her father had gone and she had a dream that she didn't want to have again. With her father there it was fine, he was the owner of the house, and he'd made it, after all. Without him to hold it in check strangers invaded her dreams. The dark things overwhelmed.

A unicorn, its blue eyes fire-bright, brushed past the spinney below her, making twigs crackle beneath its cloven hooves, with the fearlessness bordering on arrogance that all unicorns had. The lowest of creatures knew not to disturb a unicorn. It was noticed by the shifty male, but just the slightest change of expression could be seen, and only then if you were watching carefully.

Hela deliberates between the house and approaching the creatures, and through all this she keeps watch in her unoccupied tree.
More character-history-drabble. I need to rewire my head.

Weasel Overlord
16th September 2005, 10:43 AM
~Tryfan Wen~
‘When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see?’

The girl who pulled me up said that her name was Lily and I smiled in return. Squatting and then standing, I extended my hand to hers and clasped her slender fingers in my larger paw.

“My name’s Tryfan. Tryfan Wen, in fact.” I grinned in my usual lopsided way, hoping all the while to gain a few allies in this mysterious place. Glancing at the other faces I gleaned that there was one other male and two women other than Lily. The tall man seemed to have assumed a leader position, but I could tell from the face of the buxom one that she as having none of it, and her following outburst proved my instincts correct.

“We need a fire.” The guy had said, and I had pointed in a vague way towards the forest. It seemed an obvious choice to me, but he shook his head. I decided that I disliked this one…he reminded me of the Prison lawyers, smiling at the mouth, but cold and calculating at the eyes.

I had always believed the eyes to be the window of the soul. I would watch this one.

He delved into his pocket, and producing flint and steel, proclaimed that he was inept at handling them. The buxom woman had taken a disliking to him and it showed from her impatient movements and sharp looks.

“And who made you leader, boy?” She demanded imperiously. She then proceeded to voice what we were all no doubt thinking. “Where the hell is this place, anyway?” I had no idea, and I was prepared to bet that no-one else did either. She snatched the flint and steel from his hand and, kneeling, began to gather flammable substances. My companion, Lily stepped forward to help but was soon subdued by a ferocious glare from the buxom one. She stopped in her tracks and backed away, not wanting to provoke a confrontation. The buxom one had eyed me and the other guy almost proprietarily. Eyeing us up as a slave trader checked out possible purchases. When her eyes lighted upon me, they glinted in a way that I could not interpret, and maybe didn’t wish to.

I turned to Lily and offered my hand. “Come. We can gather some wood.” She shook her head slowly, as if afraid to decline my offer, and she sank to the floor. I shrugged and wandered over to the majority of the group. Some introductions were needed and I could no longer go on referring to the group as ‘that tall one’ and ‘the buxom one’.
However, I felt that the two arguing ones were best left for the moment, so I approached the quiet girl who had taken a seat on a handy rock. I coughed to advertise my presence, as in the Prison, I had often managed to sneak up on people without even realising I was doing it.

“You’re the newest one, aren’t you?” She enquired, quietly, looking up at me from her perch. I sat down next to the rock and smiled gently.

“Yes. My name’s Tryfan Wen. Have you any idea where we are?” She shook her head regretfully, but a strange smile lit her face, as if she was remembering an old joke she had heard. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like ‘Kansas’.

“I’m Dezerae.”

“So…do you know any of the others?” I glanced towards the tall man. He was watching the forest, a strange look on his face. He reminded me of a tiger that had caught sight of its prey, stalking it in the grass. He half-turned and caught me looking at him. His face returned to a mask of unreadability, blank as an unwritten book, and he turned back to the forest, eyes fixing on the same spot again. Slipping a sideways glance at Dezerae to see if she had noticed anything odd, I slipped to my feet and padded towards the enigma of a man. I imagined myself a hunter, as I had in my Dream-land. Stalking my prey as a tiger, flattening in the grass, making not a sound. It didn’t take long to reach him, but it seemed to take an age, and when I crept behind him, he made the slightest of twitches. Turning, he scowled.

“I didn’t hear you…”

17th September 2005, 06:50 AM
Gah! Sorry for not posting, I was away for a week on a very unplanned adventure x.x I didnt know I would be gone for more than a day so I didnt notify sorry ;.; *begs forgiveness* Am I still allowed to post? -.-()!!!

17th September 2005, 09:45 AM
I understand your predicament, so it'll be an exception this time. Feel free to continue posting.

= Joseph Faust =

“I didn’t hear you…” And it was true, which happened rarely. However, at that very moment, my eyes had been able to focus and see through the moist black velvet that was the growing night. I had sworn that what I had seen in the forest below was a... unicorn? Any other day I would have doubted it, but I had always been a realist, and it easily fell into place in my head. Likely, this world was going to be very different.

I quickly turned my apparent scowl into a wolfish, but friendly, grin and pointed behind my hunter at the growing newborn fire. "I see they have a fire going." The man, or possibly boy, turned to look as I had. It was at that moment that I pulled a strange face behind his back, wondering what had possessed him to dye his hair green, even sparingly. However, I thought I saw his features curl into a smile as he saw the fire, and then he revolved a step and faced me directly. "I'm Tryfan. Tryfan Wen. Who are you?"

If only I could tell him the true answer to that question, not a name, but a story. "Mathias Hausen," was what came out instead, slightly accentuated with a German dialect. Pulling his hand into an iron grip with mine, I shook it tightly and stared directly into his eyes. It was a sincere gesture, but one that was meant to slightly intimidate. When he didn't draw back, I smirked, and continued, "Pleased to meet you."

Ending our handshake, I strolled carefully over to the fire and announced loudly, "I think I'll rest a little. If anyone needs me, for watch or anything like that, feel free to wake me." To me, the inflection of my voice sounded jovial, and I modestly reminded myself that the test hadn't even begun yet. Sara grunted in reply to my inquiry, Tryfan, who had followed me back to the fire, yawned a little. I retreated almost beyond the glow of the flames, and bedded myself in the snow that was neither wet nor cold. "G'night," I muttered to the darkness.


Weasel Overlord
17th September 2005, 12:22 PM

I lifted the waters to my mouth and tasted at my realm. Something was different. I tasted it in the mud and the roots of the plants that were mingled with my palms.

Inhaling, I smiled. A strange, crooked parody that would have sent a mortal fleeing.

New flesh...I tasted them. Five. Two of them male...

My tongue snaked over my full lips in anticipation, and I smoothed at my shift. Male flesh was good...it brought new seductions and a life into me that my swamps could not provide. At this, I sighed, mouth turning downwards. Even to the Naids, love was elusive, and a vain but shining hope gleamed in my mind.

Maybe one of them would love me truthfully...with all his heart. I ask only for one, but none ever come.

No one ever opens their heart willingly to my flesh, willingly tasting my damp and willingly feeling my claws in their skin.

Maybe this time...

The hope gleams in my mind like a beacon, leading me, I knew not where, but it lead me to the edge of my kingdom. My swamps.

Glimmering like a glorious sun. Hope.

17th September 2005, 03:40 PM
Thanks, Im glad you understand ^-^ Even so I wont let it happen again.
And Im glad you liked my first post ^-^
~Lily O’Keefe~
Your senses swim, drinking the mist

It was strange. Though I still had no idea how I, or any of the other four got here, I wasnt the least bit upset by leaving my life behind. I was actually happy, and I felt as if I were finally home. The wind called to me, beckoning me to run through the darkened woods. The still waters of the river asked me to swim and bathe in it. The mystery the excitement, you could feel it in the air, feel it in every tree trunk, in every speck of dirt. My mind longed to jump deep within this dreamland and explore everything it had to offer.

But for once my body took precedence. It was night and the air had a slight chill, probably because my clothes were still wet from my river-swim. Sara had managed to coax fire out of the dusty dry wood, despite her best efforts to keep anyone from helping her. Briefly I wondered why she was so hostle, we were all stuck here same as her. Maybe she had someone waiting for her back where she came from. Maybe she had a decent life and wanted to go back to it. Whatever the reason, I wasnt going to let her get me down. I was home, this was my place. I was no stanger to this river or these woods or this mist. It was in my mind, and as far as I knew, these people were in my mind too. As far as I knew I was still sitting in my house in some sort of weird coma. But deep down inside I felt that that wasnt likely.

Mathias had gone to sleep, in the strange warm fluffy snow. I didnt really know what to make of him, but he seemed to have been the first to come to this place. When I had first met him he looked at me strangely, looked at me the way some co-workers at the office had. If he had been a woman Id have said he was sizing me up the way most of them did, but no, it looked more like he was examining my body, which made me both embarrassed and uncomfortable. I never knew what to do when a man found me attractive, though it happened pretty often. I had always been taught by my Pops that most men only wanted one thing, and it seemed to be only that type of man that ever was interested in me. I couldnt see myself with someone like that....probably the reason why I had no one to go back to. Quietly I envied Sara, because she probably did.
Tryfan....he seemed like a nice person. If I had known him in the world beyond this one I could safely say Id be his friend, if I had been able to get up the guts enough to talk to him. He was friendly, which was both refreshing and which also slightly scared me. I didnt know what to do when someone was nice, too many people were shrewd and only wanted to be your friend because of what they could get off you. Genuenly friendly people were rare, and so when I came across one I didnt know what to do. But we would be here awhile, and sensing that I had been open and friendly with everyone. Hopefully this would help me learn.
Dezerae seemed quiet, and though she had given me no reason to dislike her I was glad I wasnt here alone with her. If it had been just us no one would say a word and it would end up being quite boring. Of the whole of them she seemed most like me, but she was also the most mysterious. I didnt know what to make of her either.

Not being able to stand my own teeth chattering anymore, I knew I had to do something. Sighing a little to myself and steeling myself for what had to be done, I pulled off my shirt, leaving myself to sit by the fire in my bra. Normally I would never dream to do this but this was survival time, if I got sick out here there would be no doctor or antibiotics. So embarrassment and modesty would have to take a back seat. Plus one of the guys already went to bed, I reasoned. So certainly the nice guy wouldnt try to check me out right?
“Oh well arent you little miss whore?” A voice from across the fire rang out, bitter sounding and harsh. Looking up with mild surprise I saw it was Sara, gazing at me with a look of hostle distain dancing like the fire gleaming in her eyes. The red glow of the fire made her face look even more hostle. Shaking my head, just knowing I was blushing from the attention that was called to me, I said in an even voice, “Im cold.”
“Oh I can TELL.....and Im sure the men can see as well.” she said, obviously indicating something about my body. Crossing my arms over my chest I started feeling a little mad. “Im not going to get sick just because Im embarrassed, and Im embarrassed enough. If I wanted to put out the message ‘screw me now’ I would have taken everything off!” Cooling down a bit as I saw Mathias raise his head to look my way, I spoke in a lower voice. “All of you are wet too, its not good to stay in wet clothes, especially with how cool this night air is. I dont think well be able to get to a doctor if we get sick. I know its embarrassing but look at it this way. We dont know how we got here and we dont know how or even if we can get back. So we re going to have to do what we can to survive. Its not like we have a house to go to or a change of clothes.”
Nothing I said seemed to make sense to her, because she looked even more furious than ever. But before she could retort with anything another voice spoke up.
“I have a house....”
A sudden feeling of apprehension rose within me. That voice didnt sound like anyone that was in our group, which meant we werent completely alone here. Shooting a look into the woods where it came from, I saw eyes gleaming, but through the dark I couldnt see anything else. I was already feeling vunerable with my embarrassment, and now this new voice/eyes from the forest was tensing me up. Covering myself as I stood up hastily I almost fell into the fire had Tryfan not caught me by the arm. Too thouroghly embarrassed and startled to thank him, my eyes locked on the glowing eyes in the forest and in a shaky but still curious voice I called out.
“Whos there?”

Kinda crappy but oh well ^-^() Sorry again for my lack of posting. Ill let Chiko decide whether or not she wants Hela to make herself known or not, I wasnt sure ^-^() Sorry if I Rped anyone character wrong, but I figured that Sara would be sort of catty towards Lily since she seems to hate women and Lily is semi talkative lol ^,-,^ This sort of reminds me of Cube and Cube 2 Hypercube if any of you have seen that, I love the plot so far ^,-,^

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
18th September 2005, 06:48 AM
Sure, Hela wants to make herself known. =^^=
Hela: *extreme panic attack* H-huh?? What?!?!
"Nightmare/Propinquity 2"

The dream Hela had in her father's house was this:

Darkness. Two patches of shadow blacker than the surrounding dark prowling around her head. One is smaller than the other, and somehow, oilier. It speaks.
"So this is the faerie gift. A little scrawnier than I'd thought she would be..."
There is a horrible growling sound from the other shadow, churning and aching and ravenous. "I eat faeries."
"Not this one. And she's not a faerie. Note the absence of any semblance of glamour."
"Taste of candy something wonderful, faeries do." Again the awful gurgling, like the sound of the stomach without food in it, but a hundred thousand times worse.
"I'm perfectly sure they do, Gevaudan. Perfectly sure. But we're not here to look for faeries. Where is her father?"
"He's gone. Beat it before we could crack his bones and share his marrow." A loud sound of sucking teeth.
"And it is just so convenient that this... place... he lodged in appears impenetrable except to those it chooses to accept through the river. We must also consider the riddle of the dagger."
"He was always a clever bastard."
"Hn. He was foolish enough to make the house. Come now, Gevaudan."
The feeling of liberation of the mind, dusting itself off after intrusion. Two black velvet shadows darker than the darkness vanishing into the void.

And she had woken up, sweat evaporating off her in great wisps of steam, the ghosts of flames pooling in her eyes as tears do, cradling the instinct in her that said she had escaped, just barely, although from whom or what she did not know. Outside of the house she sleeps now, and she has no more dreams.

So when she hears the nice-looking ruddy-haired girl lamenting about the lack of a proper house, and she says, to nobody in particular: "I have a house", she is surprised at her own daring. The jerk of the girl's head quick as anything towards her dead tree unnerves her almost immediately. The girl is scared. No one has been scared of her before.

"Who's there?"

Hela raises her head from the hollow of the dead tree, so that the woad tattoos about her eyes can be glimpsed from the light of the fire (and what a fire it is), and replies timidly: "Me. Hela. I didn't mean to startle you."

The lady with the snappish disposition and ample bust that was arguing with the friendly girl a moment ago tenses immediately. "What the hell are you?"

Hela shies away into her tree, intimidated by the woman's tone, and says in a smaller voice: "'m just a fire spirit... can't hurt anybody..."

By now the other girl has recovered, and all three of them, the green-haired boy, the girl and the stern woman, are staring at her. Or rather, the tree where she is hiding. The girl says in a friendlier voice, still a little bit frightened but reassured by the fact that the unknown creature in the hollow tree is far more afraid of them than they are of her: "Um. If you promise not to burn any of us you can come closer if you like."

"That creature could be dangerous," objects the contrary-minded woman, "and you are inviting it to please, do come and wreak havoc on the lot of us poor defenseless humans."

"I didn't say anything like that," the girl replied evenly, then turned back to Hela's dead tree. "I'm Lily. You said you had a house?"

Hela, scared out of her wits, obeys and creeps out of her wooden enclosure and stands at the edge of the circle of firelight, teasing the hem of her shift with her grubby fingers. "It's r-really my father's house. I-it's warm, but it's not a really good place to, uh, sleep in..."
Bully Hela as you like, (she can't be killed by throwing her into the fire though *sweatdrop*) and you can make her lead you guys to the house if you want, but be warned that it is REALLY not a nice house (make up whatever scary things you can think of about the house if you do go there...)

18th September 2005, 10:56 PM
= Joseph Faust =

I had dozed off as quickly as I had woken to the sound of the others' voices, but my ears perked up at what could have been mistaken for the wind, and then to Lily's voice. "Who's there?" By now, I was sitting up, watching and being careful enough to avoid anyone's notice.

"Me. Hela. I didn't mean to startle you." The voice was timid, feminine, but certainly afraid.

"What the hell are you?" We were falling into our own respective roles all too quickly, it seemed. I might have asked pardon for my language, but Sara was an awful bitch. At least, that's what she seemed at the moment. I wasn't about to have prejudice, especially since my cynicism told me that I'd be in close contact with each of these people for a while. I hadn't even tried to go back through the wall, in fact, and hadn't even thought it could work. Regardless, Sara's tone, whether irritability or habit, intimidated the creature. Her comment was marginally justified, but I immediately corrected myself, thinking, she. It was human, roughly, and had feelings. I'd be an imbecile to think otherwise.

I only caught a couple words of the humanoid's shy dialect, but I managed to decipher, "M'... fire spirit... can't hurt anybody." Even with this feeble sentence, however, Sara remains relatively unconvinced. The three others calmed a little, and I listened intently as Lily spoke, obviously assured that the spirit was the most estranged and a little terrified. She kept jovial, but her voice shivered, saying, "Um. If you promise not to burn any of us you can come closer if you like-"

"That creature could be dangerous," Sara immediately corrected. Still unprepared to lay down any of their character, I sat up a little straighter to better hear her continue, "and you are inviting it to please, do come and wreak havoc on the lot of us poor defenseless humans."

"I didn't say anything like that," replied Lily, attempting to dislodge Sara's own disgruntled hostility. "I'm Lily. You said you had a house?"

As she became more accustomed to us humans, Hela had been slowly making her way towards the fire, at a crawl really. I was amazed that those almost undead legs could even function, the helter-skelter arrangement, debiliated and sewn with what appeared to be leather. However, the flickering firelight served the purpose of obscuring them perfectly. "It's r-really my father's house," she began, and I came to full standing position and made a modest "crunch" as my feet packed down the snow. My velcro sandals were a little mudded, but their enslavement was preferred to bare feet. As I tiptoed leisurely towards the light, I regarded Hela's tribal tattoos curiously from the gloom. Her entire appearance was odd, and she looked young. There was something interesting about the "girl," but I couldn't place it.

"I-it's warm, but it's not a really good place to, uh, sleep in..." She trailed off, gazing frantically at her surroundings and realizing her vulnerability (or so I assumed) away from her dead tree, her hiding place. I must have scared her... er... not socks... off when I answered, dignified and now standing just in view and behind Dezerae. The five of us wreathed the fire, Lily being closest to Hela, and myself farthest away.

"That's alright Hela, I think it's a little late to find shelter. We'd probably only end up getting lost in this black velvet," I waved a casual hand, gesturing to symbolize the humidity of the night,"but you're welcome to stay..."

"Oh... no... Hela can't... I... um need to, er... I can't... the fire... and oh, Hela isn't... um-" she glanced quickly across all of our faces, shuddered, and fell silent. Lily, thankfully, intervened.

"I suppose we don't know each other very well, do we!" With this, she smiled, elated, and pointed at each of us in turn. "This is Mathias, Tryfan, Sara, and Dezerae." Tryfan gave a little wave, but Dezerae continued to stand rather stoicly.

"Um... Hela." The fire spirit was put off, torn from a turn of phrase or just a polite word. While she had been drawing closer before, she now backed away, analyzing each of us and running her grimy fingers over the hem of her shirt.

"Don't worry Hela," I offered, attempting to remedy a lost cause. Hela merely twitched a little. "Have all the space you need. None of us will bother you, and if you desire to come near the fire, we can back off a bit-" Sara scoffed, mouth dropping at my expecting she would part with it. "but you can always stay in the forest, or wherever you prefer. This isn't our island, so you can do what you'd like. See you another time?" Hela shivered, then nodded, and in a moment, gallavanted off into the woodland and out of sight. I managed to catch her bright eyes in the darkness, and her's locked with mine momentarily. I might have been paranoid, but I could have sworn she was looking right into me, and she was rightly suspicious. With her finally gone, I turned to the group and asked curtly, "Do we need anyone to keep watch?" I hoped that the change in my manner from frigid and fargazing to succinct and polite wasn't too sudden. I hoped that none of them saw anything in me like I knew Hela might have. Survival depended on deceit.


Weasel Overlord
19th September 2005, 07:19 AM
~Tryfan Wen~
‘When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see?’

So. We weren’t alone in this strange place. This Hela character was as strange as I could think of, although I had just navigated a river while escaping a Prison of a city and arrived through what seemed to be a wall into a clearing with a gathering of people who appeared to have made the same journey as me. I wasn’t inclined to be surprised about much after that, so when the small girl edged her way into the clearing and nearer to the fire, I just sat up and wiped the sleepiness from my eyes.

As per usual, the girl Lily had introduced as Sara was being catty and unnecessarily nasty, but I had grown accustomed to her ways by now and I shrugged off her enmity. Lily, however, seemed to dislike her intently. Her body language was quite hostile towards her. I had no idea how I could tell about her body language…it just came naturally, for some reason. Along with my new silence.

As Hela came closer, the group stood and we arranged ourselves around the fire, so as to not be threatening. I could sense the child’s fear, so I gave her a little wave as Lily gave the introductions. I sensed something more, too…the tall man Lily had called Mathias gave off a scent of deceit. It had been strongest when he was watching the forest earlier, and when I had managed to creep up on him. He had seemed quite disconcerted about this, but his attitude was jovial towards me. Despite his outward behaviour, I had smelled anger and a slight undertone of fear, and I wondered if he was all that he said he was.

“Don’t worry, Hela. Have all the space you need. None of us will bother you, and if you desire to come near the fire we can back off in a bit” Hela looked terrified at the prospect of staying with us and she backed away slightly, holding out her hands as if to protect herself from us. Mathias continued. “…but you can always stay in the forest, or wherever you prefer. This isn’t our island, so you can do what you like. See you another time?” He looked hopeful at this idea, but the scent of lies wafted powerfully towards me and I wondered what he was up to. Hela seemed to sense this too, and she took the opportunity to scarper, only glancing behind when she was safely in the forest.

Mathias watched her go, and then his attitude changed again. “Do we need anyone to keep watch?” I narrowed my eyes at him, and held up my arm.

“I’ll do it.” I felt the need to think. Not only about this enigma of a man, but about Hela, and what her presence could mean. Also, I wasn’t particularly tired anymore, my short stint of sleep being sufficient.
Mathias looked relieved at my volunteering, and promptly lay down in his snowdrift. Lily smiled my way, and did the same, shortly followed by Sara and Dezerae. I shrugged and wandered over to the edge of the clearing to keep my night-vision intact. I sat facing the forest, wondering what else was out there. If there were Fire Spirits, then surely there could be a possibility of other exotic creatures. I found myself excited at the thought of the forest lying before me. Unexplored and unspoilt, and a sudden urge to go running into the wilderness overcame me. I got to my feet, nearly falling over in my eagerness, all thought of watch gone. Overpowered by the heat of the hunt, I ran through the trees that marked the border of the forest, and it opened to me, like a parched flower opens to rain in the desert at night.

I ran, not caring, for a while, before slowing to a silent jog and finally to a soft walk. All around were the sounds of a forest at night, chirping and rustling. But instead of distracting me, I became one with them. Bathed in the noise, I became the forest.

I came to the edge of another clearing, this one containing a pool and a small waterfall, and something inside me told me to stop. I paused, still as a lioness on the hunt, and scanned the clearing. From the other side, a silvery being was approaching to drink, bathed in moonlight. I gasped under my breath. A unicorn. It ducked its majestic head to drink, long twisting horn almost touching the water, and its eyes flickered up to meet mine. Pale blue, like twin pools of perfect water, I fell into them, entranced. Not caring whether I was seen, I went forward slowly. It felt as if the unicorn was inviting me, spellbound, to share the water. I fell to the ground, tripping over an unseen root, and the spell was broken. The unicorn reared and bolted, leaving but a silver tail hair entwined about a branch and a pair of hoof prints in the soft ground at the water’s edge.

I unwrapped the hair from the branch, shining ethereal in the moonlight, and pressed it to my face. It was soft and still held some of the warmth from the creature’s body, and I held it like a child cradling a soft toy.

On the soft ground, I slept, cradling the sliver of hair close to my breast, unknowing that I was being watched. Just before I fell into dreamless sleep, I glimpsed a pair of yellow eyes, gazing on me as I lay. I cast all worries out of my mind and, embracing oblivion, I slept.

19th September 2005, 02:11 PM
Sara Raize
Now I lay me down to sleep... Pray the worms my soul to keep...

I lay on my side, my back turned to the rest of the group, and shivered in the cold. My mind and body ached from physical and emotional fatigue; I wanted this nightmare to end... but my instinct told me that it was only beginning. I didn't want to get close to any of these people... closeness leads to hurt. I would not let myself be hurt again... not after last night.

At least sex didn't require closeness, not of the emotional kind, anyway. No, I would not fall down that trap again, I would not be used again. I didn't need anyone... and they definitely didn't need me. I saw the dislike in their eyes... it was almost loathing. It would be loathing before too much longer, I was sure of it. My inner soul cried out against my desire to protect myself from the world, but my mind could not both follow my soul and protect my heart. I wanted to be free, to love and live, but that was what had gotten me hurt in the first place.

No more of that. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't afford the luxury of emotions; only animalistic lust would I allow from now on.

And how much did I want that now? I could almost feel it, the urge was so strong... Which of the men would I target? Both of them were alluring... perhaps I would just play with them both and see which responded. If both responded, all the better... for me, at least.

Tryfan was supposedly on watch; he wandered off, perhaps for a few hours, then later returned and lay down, apparently to sleep. Some watchman... I sighed and sat up. Despite my fatigue, I feared sleep and what might lie in wait for me in my subconscious. If I stayed awake, at least physical problems that might arise could be dealt with physically. Mental problems... they didn't have rules that applied in any way, shape, or form. Dreams could not be confronted...

I glanced to the side sharply. I thought that I saw... yes, there was something off in the brush. It was impossible to tell what, though... I could sense slight curiosity, maybe a slight amount of malice. Shivers ran up and down my spine as I glanced around. The other people were all asleep, or at least seemed like they were, but there was a heavy, yet unseen presence hanging over our makeshift camp. We were being watched, measured, appraised... but by what?

I jumped at sudden movement behind me, ready to run, when I saw the one who called himself Mathias moving near to me. I glanced at him, neutrally for a change; he was strange and didn't ring quite true, but then surely each of us had something that we were hiding.

"I can't sleep..." I murmured quietly, suddenly shy. Other than the watching presence, the forest was still, and the calm was reflected in my mood. I coyly looked at Mathias out of the corner of my eye. "I'm sorry for my attitude, but.." I trailed off. There really wasn't any excuse, and Mathias didn't seem to be looking for one.

19th September 2005, 07:58 PM
The best luck with your Rita predicament, Drusilla. Mother Nature hasn't been very kind lately. Oh, wait, she never is.

= Joseph Faust =

For a moment, I didn't grace her with a reply. It was more a matter of thought than lack of etiquette, so in a moment's time, I responded, "I can't sleep either-" I broke off, wondering if it was safe to say more than that. I made the slightest of movements, but enough to catch the coy look from Sara's eye. I smiled wryly. There was calculation, and even... emotion... beneath that haughty exterior. Satisfied, I murmured, "images beneath my eyelids..."

Her expression didn't change anywhere but her eyes, which exhibited a look that could have been surprise, or disinterest. Either way, she didn't reply. It was a mixed blessing, but displaying some recognition, she uttered pensively, "hmph."

"We seem to be on the same wavelink," I remarked, chuckling, but I shuddered as I heard it ring hollowly. Turning my head as if to catch the full moon, I glimpsed three sleeping bodies out of the corner of my eye. I watched momentarily, likely appearing to be languidly staring at the constellations (which were actually well obscured), before revolving to face Sara.

If anything was my weakness, it was relying on symbolism. With a life bleak as mine- I always expected a sign from someone that cared; what was faith? But so irony had it that when I turned my head, the first projection that caught my eye was Sara's... crimson... hair. It just took one stimulus to audit my entire homeostasis, and the world blurred for a mere millisecond. Memory... and I was almost too far gone to hope that she hadn't seen that single salty droplet run down my face. I clenched my eyes as her gaze dropped, and then followed her eyes. "Drip..." In the open air, the sound spread outward with ease. It had struck a single smooth rock, the only piece from the wall that I had seen. The rest was flawless. Attempting to dull the awkward sensation in my bones, I cradled the small rock a second, and stuffed it in my pocket quickly.

"Night Mathias." It was drawn out from molehill to mountain, the time before she uttered it. Even when it came, it was quiet, contemplative and disconcerted. I could have sworn that the feeling that passed between us as she stood was longing. She took several hesitant steps.

"I never did learn enough German to justify-" I broke my comment purposefully, but knew that she would not guess the cryptic meaning behind my sentence. She continued her pace, softly padding her way to the snow just far enough away from everyone else. "Night Sara-" Those words coalesced physically, almost, and she stopped first, then shrugged as if they had been some embrace. It was only behind her back that I would complete my phrase in a whisper. Both day and night had proved to be fickle this cycle; "sweet dreams."


Weasel Overlord
20th September 2005, 10:22 AM
Why am I suddenly feeling the need to post constantly??? *looks aghast* It's just not like me!!! Anyway...here's Eleiamae! *does crappy 'here's Johnny' impression* She just wants to be loved...*dripping swamp creature holds out arms for huggles and bares fangs in the semblence of a smile*


He had found the unicorns. After my first taste of the newcomers, I found myself craving more. Obsession-like, I worked my way slowly towards their camp-site, their gleaming presences illuminating the dark.

On my way, I had stopped to taste the waters and found one of them was on the move. In all probability, hunting. A further taste told me that he had found a unicorn and, communing once more with my life-blood, I saw that he had possession of a single hair from the tail of the beast. My heart pounded strangely in my breast, shattering the silence in my ears. Creeping forward, I saw a figure lying on the ground near the water, clutching something slivery to his chest. For a moment, his eyes met mine, and they shone with pent up sleep. Unicorns had that effect on humans, I had been told by a God from long ago. Possibly Pan himself, whom I had memories of courting in my younger days when my swamps were new.

The boy’s hair framed his face with green streaked white, and his lashes lay on his cheeks, eyes flickering slightly beneath their curtain. He was obviously dreaming, but the forest wasn’t safe at this hour, if any at all. And especially not for a human untrained in wood-lore. A snap decision seemed to make itself in my mind, flicking from synapse to idea in an instant. I would make him safe.

I fancied the role as protector, and sleeping, he would be immune to my charms, however reluctantly laid upon him. I felt no need to use my charms on this one. Lately, an overwhelming longing to be truly loved had flowed through me and I had resolved to leave the use of my wiles for a time. I went closer to him, the ground was quite damp, so I lost none of my powers, and I kneeled next to him. My placing my hand over his eyes, I gleaned that his name was Tryfan. Normally, I would have trouble with this side of my powers, but this one seemed particularly receptive to my intrusion, opening his mind subconsciously to mine. I passed my hand over his eyes and face and willed him to sleep longer. A slight groan and a shuffle were all the signs of his awareness, and I gathered him into my arms, cradling him close as he cradled his unicorn hair. I bent once more to saturate myself in the muddy waters, and standing, I set off to find the mysterious camp, Tryfan held in my arms. It was not long before I reached it, but I could go no further than the forest’s edge. Already I had spent most of my power and I would need a long session of immersion in my waters before I was back to my old self. I placed a small glamour on myself so I faded into the background, and, propping Tryfan up against a trunk, I tapped once on his chest to break him from his trance-like sleep. He snorted gently, and his head lolled to one side, resting on his shoulder.

I sensed some of the newcomers were awake, so I placed one last glamour on Tryfan to ensure that he sleep-walked his way into his makeshift bed. I wanted no outings of discovery to my swamps.

He tottered over to a hump of snow and fell, lopsidedly into a laying position. I sighed quietly, and with one last glance at the camp, I left for my swamps and some rest. Despite my glamours, I secretly hoped that one of them had seen me, and I made an effort to make some noise on my way back. It had been a long time since I had taken a lover…

20th September 2005, 08:57 PM
= Joseph Faust =

"Night Mathias." The first words I heard in my dreams, as I watched the scene of myself and Sara play out again. Deja vu. However, as I made my own night goodbye and later, whispered comment, my caricature began to play a very different role.

Suddenly, the black sky was tinted with crimson, the most striking I had ever seen. However, it blended, menacingingly, with the dark. A pool of water stood before me of... melted snow? What force could touch the pure white of this knoll? It had seemed so dry... and warm... the force to heat it would be-

Then there was fire. It was one tree, a gray birch, that somehow stood from the rest. The tree was covered in wintry flakes, and then... burning. I felt compelled to watch it, for what would have been hours in real time, until it burned to the ground. The ashes were tossed to a sudden chill breeze, and spread across the canopy in a way that horrifically reminded me of pieces of... flesh?

I remembered, suddenly, the blues eyes in the evening light. The creature of the wood. I glanced at that spot, intensely, and felt a different presence. As a writer, I would have considered red for evil a trite color. And so it was, coincidence had it, that the eyes that did stare back at me were blue as the ones before. I sighed of relief, yawned, and felt myself seceding into the darkness past dreams again. But then... just as the stark world of my sleeping conscious, a reality where everything was opaque and clouded, those eyes swirled into one, and then to a fatal mixture of blue... and red.

Quite abruptly, the image jerked again, and the apple of my eye was a bleak surface. I realized now that I stood atop the wall, and on the hidden far side, there was a void of white. It wasn't barren, lush as rainforest, but the trees were pine. And then, I saw the importance of it. It was sunny here, but the nimbus above made it nearly invisible. Ironically, the picture was clearer in darkness. Somehow, this clarity made me afraid. And then... the sound of water.

I had heard somewhere that water was the universal conduit. It allowed things within it, through it, all manner of things... sea monkeys, humans in our group's case, and even-

I couldn't finish that thought. Images flashed in the water, a house briefly, but terribly so. And then...

Black. The River was murky momentarily... but something emerged slowly. A shadowed form, humanoid and covered in murky reeds, which made it all the more fearful. It raised its head, cackled. It narrowed its eyes, and I could hear it. It wasn't a sound you could hear, but I did. Magnified, it sounded like raking claws. Slowly...

"Awaken." It spoke, quietly, muffled and... intrigued? Louder. "Awaken!" As if to banish me from this terrible pentagram, it finished. "Awaken!"

Then, the dream ended. A second of darkness. Two. Three. My eyes slipped open, gently, and I remembered the claws. My vision was so clear as I rose to sitting position, that seeing the sun out of the corner of my eye blinded me. A bird, the mocking, mimicking, type, murmured. Somehow I knew it wasn't close by. I was awake, and I felt that sensation again. Something had changed.


Unless you feel the need to make your dream drastically different, you don't have to have one at all. You can skip right to Day Two, and memories from a similar dream, if you so choose.

22nd September 2005, 05:51 PM
I would just like to remind everyone of the five day death penalty rule. Krystalline Kabutops, I don't want to be a hard-ass, but I need to stick to the rules I have set.

I will give you a one day grace period, ending at the time of this post tommorrow, and then the curtain call. If any of you have an issue with any of your characters, it is in your repetoire to switch as you like (even if the number of humans becomes somewhat lacking).

23:59... 23:58...

Krystalline Kabutops
22nd September 2005, 08:43 PM
Sorry about my failure to post. I'll strive not to let it happen again.

|/-< Dezerae Forsan >-\|

I watched the events of the evening impassively, from the appearance of the fire sprite to the exchange between Sara and Lily. That reminded me... I was very cold. In fact, I was shivering to such an extent that I wondered whether I had hypothermia. Well, one thing that was certain was that I needed to warm up. Surveying the fireside, I decided that no one was awake.

I pulled up to the glowing warmth, and quickly removed my shoes, shirt, pants and tights. Once the tights were off, I settled back into my jeans. I wasn't so cold as to sit there in nothing but my underwear. Propping my boots up next to the flames, I spread out my shirt and black/white striped tights on them. I then huddled, Indian-style, as close to the fire as I could prudently come, in a desperate attempt to warm myself.

Indian-style. What a curious term. It really is rather demeaning to the Native American culture, and it's pretty stereotypical as well. I've never known a Navajo or Apache to cross their legs when sitting on the ground. But then, I've never known a Navajo or Apache, which could be a bit of a factor... As I pondered these sorts of things, my eyes slid out of focus, the fire forming patterns in my vision. Then, something far and away out of the ordinary occurred. Some would later say that it served as a neat summary of the events that occurred in the coming months.

A figure, tall and thin, appeared in the fire. It stood on the edge of a great chasm, dark as oil. Spreading its arms wide, the figure slowly, imperceptibly, tilted towards the pit, until gravity took over and it plummeted into the darkness. The pit flared a bright violet, and then returned to its former darkness.

The image disappeared, but I remained staring at the fire, trying to interpret what I had just seen. As slowly as the figure had tilted, in increments I fell asleep, as the sun slowly rose on the horizon.

23rd September 2005, 04:54 PM
~Lily O'Keefe~
Is it possible to dream within a dream?
I shivered to myself in the night, as everyone in our rag tag group went to lie down in fitful sleep. Though it was not completely from the cold anymore, being dry by the fire had helped, and even now I was pretty close to the fire. Camping I had learned that fire deters wild animals from harrassing you in the night, and I didnt want to be harrassed. Especially since I had no idea what kind of wild animals were in this place.
My shirt had dried somewhat, and I now was using it as a sort of blanket. But I shivered not only from the strange place, or the cold, but because I had never felt so alone and so very NOT alone at the same time.
There were people from my world here, but I could tell I was alone. They were all so different, so strange, while some were unfriendly some were, but it wasnt the same. I didnt know them, it was like we were all watching each other with suspicious eyes, like prisoners do, knowing each had done something to make it here and not knowing what. I had only dreamed, had wished for a better life, and suddenly I find myself here. Was it better? I couldnt really tell. But right now I felt a little sad, not in longing for my old life, but in longing for the place I could call home. I didnt even know if I truely belonged anywhere.
But I was also NOT alone, none of us were on this island of Mist. The creature, no, little girl...she definately wasnt human. What she was however was, well, in her words, a 'fire spirit'. But her legs....she looked like something straight out of surreal art. Only she was real, and so was everything else in this place. Who knows what other strange things were here.
Despite my thoughts tumbling around in my head, the soft crackling of the fire lulled me to sleep. Snatches of incomprehensible dreams flashed through my mind in a jumble, unable to grasp most of it, but one scene came out crystal clear...
The rhythm of the night was in my head...music seeming to come from the very heart of nature itself. It reminded me of the drums and flutes of native peoples, a rhythm that would make your heart long for the wilderness. In my dream it made me long, made me yearn for the place where the wild creatures played and killed and struggled for survival. In my dream I rose from the fire, eyes wild and gleaming with the firelight, and I started running through the woods. The beat pitched with a fever that burned in my heart, and I ran, my voice singing to the sky in wordless song. Stopping near a lake, panting from my wild racings I bent low to take a drink from the cool waters---and saw the head of a wolf peering back at me from my reflection. Forgetting my burning throat I stopped and stared, disbelieving at my new self....

The pale yellow sunlight shone through the mist signifying early morning. I had slept the whole night without waking up once, something that was very rare. Sitting up, feeling extra embarrassed in the light, I pulled on my stiff dry shirt and poked at the dying embers of last nights fire. I avoided looking around, my mind still on my strange dream and the happenings of the night before. I resolved I wasnt going to try to force myself on people that had already shown they didnt want me around. This place was my alone place before and it would be again.
Tah dah lol

24th September 2005, 07:11 PM
I apologize in advance if I make some strange typos; this keyboard is rather strange to me, so I'm going to attempt to keep an eye on what I'm typing out, but somethings may escape my attention.

Oh, and I also hope that I don't cross any boundaries with this post... I think I leave it at "implied", so I believe that it's OK.

Sara Raize
Sitting in the dark, drinking my own blood, and a voice, it whispers, "Hello, my love."

Dreams of darkness and shadows... moving, following me. Soft laughter, gentle caresses, light kisses... I was running from them, though, for as pleasing as they were, there was something cold underlying it all. Something like death... not quite death, but similar... it was unnatural and I was afraid.

I was almost like... like last night... But this time I couldn't outrun my pursuer.

I woke, sweating, sobbing, petrified. I sat up, my heart pounding in my ears, feeling for the world that I had in fact been running again from that unknown terror... I looked around, trying to convince myself that I hadn't, that it had all been a dream... or had it been? Even now, I wasn't sure, despite the sunlight now flooding through the trees that it hadn't been real...

Reflected light from something next to me caught my eye, and I lifted a perfectly balanced stiletto from the ground and stared at it in wonder. Where had it come from? What was it doing here? The thin blade was flawless... a thing of beauty, a thing of power... a thing of death.

I shivered at the thought, but this time the shiver had a slight tinge of anticipation with it, and, strangely, I wasn't chilled by the idea of taking pleasure in death. I mentally recoiled in horror at this revelation, slightly sickened, but slightly fascinated as well.

Things were getting stranger and stranger...

By this time, the others had been staring at me for a few moments. I smiled weakly and waved, slightly embarrassed that I hadn't noticed their attentions turned towards me. A few glances passed between them and they lost interest... except Mathias. His eyes lingered on me for a few moments longer, and I met his gaze, unsure as to what it meant. He turned away, leaving me curious... even hungry for more.

Images flashed through my mind, images that I couldn't account for the origin of. Images of my naked body entwined with his...

I threw the images from my mind, blushing slightly. Mathias looked back at me, almost appraising me, as if he knew what I had pictured, and I flushed further. He couldn't have seen what I had, and it was ridiculous to even entertain the possibility. Still... there had been something in his eyes that made me wonder... and the timing of his second glance.

What the hell was going on here?

24th September 2005, 09:10 PM
= Joseph Faust =

It had taken me an imperceptible amount of time to come to my senses, and so I merely sat and stared into the inky gray. It could not have been ten minutes before the sun rose entirely, during which Dezerae stirred once and opened her eyes momentarily, but fell asleep again. It was then, only then, that I noticed the weight in my lap.

I had always had perfect vision, but somehow, the oddly lukewarm metal in my hand was a little sharper. As the a few rays of light touched it, colors I hadn't known existed criss-crossed each crevice, testing the water of their glimmering new habitat. So deft was the fan that when I folded and unfolded it slowly, it made no sign of movement. I lifted it to eye level holding its leather grip and made one quick flourish of my wrist. It responded fluidly, unfolding and startling me as the grinning razor of an edge fell into my line of vision. For a moment, all that existed in the world was that masterwork weapon and I. I stroked it fondly and chuckled, bemused by it. The longer my eyes bore into its surface, the more texture that appeared to me. This craft reminded me of the unicorn, as even if I knew little about the item's history, a barely perceptible aura of mystique lingered on it.

I didn't know how long I spent that way. Admiring the fine alloy and its inherent toughness, and trying to uncover all the secrets it might have. I was vaguely aware of others waking up around me, and also the shock of finding their respective weapons, but I dismissed all this. One of them stood, and then I heard a denying and cruel cry of despair. It startled me so soundly that I found myself in standing position, not knowing how I had gotten there, and holding my ears with the intensity that they might crumble into dust at any moment. Only to block that hideous... As my sight finally caught up, my peripheral vision noticed that Dezerae had just trodden on a large weed; was it a weed? I dropped my jaw in awe, disbelieving that anything less than a stampede could have had such volume. To my terror, she raised her foot and brought it down in one fluid motion... on another weed. I clenched my ears so hard that I felt my eyes water, but no sound came. I slowly released my death hold, and upon hearing nothing, could only surmise that my brain had already adjusted to its newfound reach. However, as I walked nonchalantly over to where three and a waking Sara were, I made sure to swerve to avoid clomping on whatever I could. Likely, I would have looked like a gazelle, zigzagging in unnatural sway as if to escape some vicious predator.

Usually I would not be so selfish to miss the emotions of others, but while I could tell some of them were distraught and others even resigned, it did not matter to me. They half stared, half looked away from Sara who was holding a stiletto. I couldn't help but feel that it looked... correct, somehow. I had shoved my war fan into one of my belt loops, and even having done it subconsciously, it was engineered to fit. As I glanced downward, I was aware that I was looking at Sara, but she looked... different. Somehow... more elegant? Was it my opinion of her that had grown? In a moment, it no longer mattered. Suddenly, I was quite caught up in being the only one still glancing at her.

My field of vision moved up and down her body too casually, as somehow I knew that even if I was looking where I shouldn't be, the movement of my eyes couldn't be followed. My now more than ample perception allowed me to make the subtlest movements, of which I was gradually growing accustomed to. I stopped after a second or two, and lingered on her eyes. The eyes had always been the most fascinating of a person's attributes to me, but I could see deeper in Sara's eyes than I ever had before; they were different. I pushed past all of the walls that guarded her core, that projected her outer mannerisms, and touched something that might have been... sorrow?... that was weighing her down and possessing her thoughts with an iron fist. There, I curled the corner of my mouth in an unnoticeable grin at the notion of an intelligent mind. I brought myself to trail my gaze slowly away as I saw her lip curl in discomfort, her subconscious knowing I had seen, but her conscious still unbeknownst to that fact.

As she came to such a corner of my eye that even these new senses had to make a stretch, I felt an obstacle. An ebb of power grappled with my mind, and I allowed it in without hesitation. I could no longer see her, but in my mind's eye, that was a very different tale. I accepted it with ease, though I grimaced in both pain and pleasure at what enveloped each of my thoughts.

Discarded clothes, a trickle of water in the background... crimson hair... a look passes between green and green eyes. There were two bodies, grafted into a strange medley of appendages. All was laden with the sweet smell of grass, the trees, and the nearby stream. Behind it, a bare, hard to find, fragrance of blood. It was a primal feeling, lustrous and lustful, and limitlessly tempting...

Then it stopped, and my mind had already come to the conclusion that the only reason for this was because she had disallowed it to continue. I refused this for a mere millisecond before I was forced to give into the conclusion that what had passed between us was almost a suggestion, one she had made, and one I had accepted...

I could not yield from taking one... last... long... look at her. The fantasy did not linger, but her body reminded me of it. I followed the curves of her body, and once again settled on her eyes. Her face flushed, and I just understood that she had seen the same. For the first time, I noticed that she smelled pungently of leaves and thistle. Discomfort and awe occurred in both our faces until I made myself able to tear my will to appraise her.

I revolved and put my back to her, stumbling with my first step, but quickly regaining balance. I both feared and rejoiced that the place I was strolling towards, purposefully, must have been where it had happened. Somewhere... in a clearing... in this forest... had been that seductive dream. Today, though, even if I wanted it, it would not become reality. I was to traverse the wood with my footfalls, yes, but alone. I heard one of the others call to me, but I did not look back. I pressed onward, and when I decided to about face backwards, the snowy knoll seemed to be swallowed by the trees. I was already so far in that all I saw through the gaps in the branches was a few speckles of white at the bottom of the hill there, but it was nearly gone. I sat for what was a second, but stood again with renewed vigor. Turning in a direction that would lead me in the straightest path from the fire pit and the rest of them, I began a slow gait. I picked up the pace. I was jogging. I was running. Then, my legs pushed into a full sprint.


Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
24th September 2005, 11:51 PM

In the still of night the house looms more than ever. The house is fairly large, constructed of ash (both wood and ashes), fitted together with no nails but joints, with a floor of packed earth and hardened mud, and finials on the high shingled roof carved with long serpentine dragons and large squat wolves. There is only one door on the outside of the house that leads to the inside, and it is wide, oak-paneled, thick, strong; and there is no doorknob unless you know where to look. It does not forbid nor does it invite. It just is: a house, in the middle of a dead forest, in the middle of an island, all governed by the river. Until you go in.

A diagram of a labyrinth, daubed on in red pigment ground from terracotta, covers the whole of the back wall of the house on its outside.

Hela moves, quickly and silently, and shimmers into the clearing. The man Mathias had told her that she was to go, and she did not wish to confront him at the time, not without the surety that she could have gotten any sort of information that was not garbled or glossed over with lies. She can tell when someone is lying, or if someone is a liar. Her father had been a habitual liar, though at least not to her. Lily had been sincere, and Sara had not tried to conceal her disbelief, but this man was a little bit dodgy, in the same way that rats were a little bit furry.* Also she was scared of him. Him and his false niceties. He had been courting too, only not properly yet. Mighty scared.

She was also scared of the courting lady, but that was a rational kind of scared - you knew where you were when people said unpleasant things to you that they actually meant. Truths have power, but lies have more. Her father, realizing this in the days when he was young and just newly a fire creature, used them to his advantage whenever he could, and used them well. She had never quite got the knack.

Whenever she ran into packs of wolves she avoided those that had recently chosen their alpha male and his mate. These were tenacious and, more often than not, were not put off by her fire, not at all.

She decides that she might try asking Lily, one day, about her father, but only if she finds her alone.

Hela came back to the fire country because there she had power. More power than elsewhere, because of the dryness of the timber, the absence of water even in the air, and of course the house. She had found that if she spent too long away from the fire country the rotting of her legs inevitably intensified. Once, early on in her father's departure, she had foolishly run through the marshes in a desperate attempt to cover her trail, escaping from a tribe of dryads whose sister's tree she had unintentionally burnt. These days she picks through the marsh, going slowly from one hank of mud to another, but back then she ran and ran and the murky water splashed up seeping into her legs, and when it was over she saw the beginnings of mildew blooming greenly, expansion unhindered except where inlets of blue interrupted the smooth surface of skin in abstract flaring curves.

In the shadow of the house, she crouches in another hollow tree, picking at her legs and fingering the leather seams reminiscent of some other pattern she cannot place at the moment. They had all stared at her legs. Why this was she didn't understand. They all themselves had legs, two of them, not unlike hers only that theirs were alive and had not been sewn on. They had called themselves humans.

Perhaps it is the influence of the house, or the country that her father called his own, but she falls to comparing her stitches to her father's smile. A crooked smile because of the marks on his mouth. Lips scarred in regular places, indelible marks of someone's awl, crisscrossed and maliciously made. She strains her thought, and reaches to pluck a name out of the jumble of Things that she knows about her father-


There. She has a name. The next morning, she will ask.
* Direct Neil Gaiman reference, from "Neverwhere". ^^; and I realize that Hela's timeframe is slow, as she's still technically on the night before, sorry bout that.

Weasel Overlord
26th September 2005, 05:01 AM
Gah! Lateness…Apologies all. And also…YAY! Neil Gaiman! So…how many people have I influenced to his genius…?

~Tryfan Wen~
‘In which Tryfan finds a part of himself he never knew existed’

Curled up by the fire I slept, unaware of how I had got there, my last memory being of a strange figure approaching me in the mud by the waterfall. The figure had picked me up and laid some sort of enchantment upon me so I did not wake, nut my senses were still keen. I could hear the world as if I was hearing it underwater. Sounds were unmistakable, but slightly blurred. After a time, all I could feel was the dampness of m bearer, and an irresistible scent of the forest about it. Some hidden sense told me that it was female, and not human, but then I fell into a deeper sleep than before, only aware of a sudden warmth tingling through my body.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open, aware of a benign presence dead in front of me. I gazed in its direction, and realised that it was the unicorn, come to reclaim its tail hair. Its eyes encompassed me, but this time they seemed malevolent and unkind. Not at all like the unicorns of legends. Its gentle gaze tuned to a foul glare filled with hatred. I could sense its dislike of me and the rest of the group. Invaders of the forest. I reached out in supplication. We had not come of our own accord. The unicorn bowed its mighty head, and I saw that its horn had become dirty and tangled with weeds and various rotting plant-life.

This was not the unicorn I had encountered earlier. Its head shook in anger, and it charged, horn forward, hell bent on impaling my sorry soul.

I could do nothing. Rooted to the spot by something deep inside me. A primal terror too awesome to escape and the unicorn grew ever closer.

I Caught a glimpse of its bloodshot eyes and there was madness in them. A madness wholly embraced by the unicorn, a sight which I remembered seeing once in a zoo, in the eyes of a lion that had been imprisoned too long.

Nearer and nearer it came, until I was sure that I was going to be spitted on its once-mighty horn. At the last moment I turned tail and fled. Unsure of whether I had enough headway, I blundered through the forest, unaware of where I was treading or what path I followed.

I screamed my fury at this wild hunt as I ran, and suddenly the forest changed. Before, it was an entrapping thing, bent on leaving me in its labyrinth until I became food for its inhabitants. Now, I was a part of the forest and it opened gladly for me, wrapping me in its leafy grasp and hiding me from the unicorn’s wrath. I stopped, panting, in a clearing that had sprung open as if just for me. The floor was scattered with fallen leaves, dead and crispy, they rustled as I stepped on them. Or rather, they should have rustled. Instead, I realised that they made a sibilant whispering sound that encased my footsteps and made me silent as a hunting predator.

Dropping to a crouch, I touched my fingertips to the ground and waited, silent. A noise to my left alerted my senses and I whirled to face it. A pair of feline yellow eyes watched my progress. The more I gazed upon those eyes, the more I realised that they belonged to no animal. There was a higher consciousness behind that stare the belied my own. Not only that, but the eyes changed in the light. Tawny yellow, then the glorious glow of sunlight and back to tawny again. They were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I reached forward desperately. The creature, startled by my movement, leapt away into the forest, and I fell to my knees, howling in misery. I wanted her…I knew she was a her…there was a strange quality about those eyes that told me as surely as any physical inspection could have done.

Leaning forward, I tumbled through the forest floor, grasping at leaves to slow my fall…

Snapping back into my body with a gasp, my eyes opened again. This time, not to a dreamworld. I was curled in front of the fire, comfortable in a pile of snow and closer to Lily than was decently possible as she pulled on her shirt. I looked away, embarrassed, before realising that there was a strange weight in my lap. Before looking down, I glanced at the others, to find them in a similar dilemma. Mathias was examining a fan-shaped object that glinted viciously in the dying fire-light, and Sara was clutching a long, knife-looking thing that I didn’t know the name of.

Daring to look down, I found a long, double ended spear. It was tipped at both ends with a leaf blade, wrapped at the base with a pair of green ribbons that trailed off in streamers. Gasping gently, I gripped the centre of the stave, finding it perfectly fitted to my hands. Running my fingertips down the wood, I found a series of carvings looping the stave depicting leaves and vines and all manner of natural things. Near each blade was a small, rune-like design, a different one for each. One of the blades was larger than the other, and this one had a smaller rune. I ran my finger around the design, and something in the back of my mind told m that it meant speed. It was shaped like an arrow with a pair of parallel lines coming from the centre. The second blade was smaller and more slender, and the rune near this one meant stealth. A pair of zigzagging lines crossed each other with an insignia of a tiny leaf in the centre.

Standing, I twirled the weapon, delighting in its balance and lightness and the slight swishy noise it made as it passed through the air. Lifting my hand, I glanced along the stave. It was perfectly straight, and I began to remember my javelin lessons at school. Holding my left hand in front of me, I sighted along and chose a stump near the edge of the forest. A hop and a slight run and I powered forward my right arm, sending the spear directly into the centre of the stump with a loud crack. It wobbled slightly, and I grinned. Padding forward on now silent feet I grasped at the stave. It freed from the stump with a shower of splinters which I brushed from my hair. Glancing down at the old wood, I gleaned that this stump was dead, and so didn’t mind being used as target practice. I made a mental note to be careful where I threw my spear next time. I didn’t want the wrath of the forest to come down on me again.

Turning back to the camp, I noticed Sara and Mathias engaged in what appeared to be some sort of mating ritual using their eyes. Mathias broke off and ran into the forest. He was fast. But I wondered whether he was as fast as me.

I had the forest on my side…

28th September 2005, 11:04 PM
= Joseph Faust =

The trees were not yet so thick that I could not tell green from blue sky, but the sheer volume of branches and protruding plant life was enough to slow me down. Eventually, I stopped altogether, and could only breathe heavily as the leaves rustled around me.

I smiled. I was not about to judge the inherent nature of this wood, but I felt strangely sadist inside of it. It could have been my own true nature, or just a trick of the mind, or even the mass of information I fought to process, but I found it wickedly satisfying that I was being pursued. My ears perked up at the distant sound of Tryfan following me with a deftness I would not have expected. The green dye in his hair might have been less misplaced than I had surmised, as even to my magically attune ears he was a faint whisper. It was not in my nature to know, but I had gained new light on the perception of not five senses, but six.

The very fibre of his being, I realized, pulsed with magic. Mine did as well, I noted, but his was easily notable. Why? He might not have even known it yet, but the forest breathed in step with him. As I heard his soft steps, I knew that he didn't crush one insect. They scurried underneath his foot, making way for one who fit into their very structure of life. What else could explain the array of noise? Any other creature would have been easily picked out, but the only reason I could tell Tryfan was pursuing me was because of the murmur he left in his wake.

Even if I had assumed some of his newfound power, and thus associated that all of us five who had entered the River world also possessed it, I had no clue as to how far it extended. However, this pursuit was soon to turn a game, and we were equally challenged. I possessed the power of perception, his the same in the forest, likely stronger. It was of my "nature," I inserted thought-wise in a subconscious pun, to be calculating. It was also then, that I already had a plan.

I picked myself up, making sure to approximate almost accurately where Tryfan was, and then preceded onward. I kept near the same pace; with one step, I intentionally crushed a flower underfoot. As I progressed, I slowed gradually, and I was sure he noticed. Then, when I could tell he was but a hundred yards away, I halted entirely.

Silence. Neither of us could see the other; he would camouflage well in this environment, I was sure. Briefly, his head appeared in my eyeline as he strained as if to hear, but I could not tell what he was doing. Suddenly, his eyes flashed in my direction and fell exactly on my hiding place. I had been found.

With an avid bound of agility that surprised myself, I tumbled perhaps twenty feet, avoiding tree roots that seemed to be intentionally trying to insinuate a faceplant on my part. Wasting no time, I pulled the fan from my belt and dismissed it with a flick of my wrist and a kiss placed on its edge. In the motion of throwing it, I managed to wipe the slight dribble of blood on my bottom lip.

Time did not slow for anyone, but I knew I would remember that strike as a photograph. Each frame passed through my head, and I grinned as it skewered several hanging branches on the way to its destination. Their white sinew was visible from the fifty yards I was from some instances, but my sadistic pleasure was not over. The unforgiving blade of the fan flew the last ten feet, and struck a tree midway up the trunk at human height. My vision was like an eagle's even from here, and I nodded in approval. It had followed the pattern as I expected, and one pale white finger lay on the side of it with a crevice in between and four fingers beyond. My expectancy was fulfilled. Tryfan had managed to recuperate his power at that moment, and he had all his fingers to show for it. If he had moved his hand but a millisecond later, the blade would have pierced flesh.

The problem now was recovering my implement from this little test, luckily, Tryfan was distracted; sap oozed thick as oatmeal from the pine's gash. I could tell that Tryfan clutched his head in agony, which I could only imagine was caused by the tree's wound. It was so then, that my preoccupation of him allowed me to ignore the weapon that returned to my hand magically and for him to almost entirely miss it. I would have been startled, but having such ease of handling was only correct for such a perfect craft.

With celerity unbounded, I did a light backflip to a tree branch, and plummeted the ten foot drop behind it with ease. A small drop off was the end of the forest, and the start of the marshes. My estimate had proved correct, and now that I had passed from the wood, I was nearly sure that none would follow me into the depths of this bog; I had known it by the smell. It was no fragrance, filthy, but bearable.

Only denial allowed me to miss the flashing yellow eyes from a rotted stump some twenty feet from my position.


One word: meh.

Weasel Overlord
29th September 2005, 04:44 AM
Oo...but why the 'meh' dear? Now, I'm not sure whether I've taken any liberties in this post that I shouldn't have...just let me know, yah?


I felt the forest groan. Something alien was hurting it, and it was both angry and in pain, like a wounded tiger, unknowing what to do. A slight rustling accompanied the forest’s pain, and I felt the alien being enter my marshes. So. He wanted to play, did he? Picking up a handful of water, I tasted, tongue flickering out gently. It was not the one I had rescued and later found in his dreamworld. It was the other male. I remembered seeing him when I left Tryfan at the clearing’s edge, curled up asleep by the warmth of their small fire. I had caught a single glance of him, but it was all I needed to be able to tell that he was deceitful. And now, he had found his way to me.

I let the waters flow from my palms back into the swamp, and setting off in a low run, I went to meet this stranger. The waters had told me that he was slightly North East, and I knew a perfect hiding place where I could observe him unseen.

Leaping lightly over every well-known log and rush, I made swift progress and arrived just in time to see him bound out of a tree and fall into the waters, twisting and landing on his feet like a cat. Crouching behind a rotting stump, I watched him, flourishing a strange fan-like weapon as he walked cautiously further into my territory. Darting ahead of him, I reached a small tree and climbed it in a second. Holding out my hands and muttering quietly, I placed a glamour on the ground beneath me. It became quicksand to all eyes but my own, and was sure to ensnare the human.

I could hear him coming before he even came into view, obviously not used to walking in soggy mud that sucked at your feet he made quite a racket. A good job I was there or he would have attracted the attention of one of my pets. They glide so silently in the shallow water, appearing as logs. Such perfect camouflage, they kill any predator that strays before I have to deal with it, but in this matter, I had left a few signals mentioning that I didn’t wish for their specialised talents, and they would stay away until I allowed them their prey.

When I had probed Tryfan’s mind, I had sensed a disliking for the one that prowled my swamps so inexpertly. I knew instinctively that Tryfan would be unheard here, but this one seemed to enjoy making noise, splashing and crunching through dead logs and wet mud. He was easy to trail, and I finally saw him creep into my trap, unaware. I crouched eagerly in my tree, watching as he came. He was quite careful, obviously not believing himself to be making noise, but to an experienced woodswoman like me, he was making enough for a herd of elephants.

He paused at the edge of my trap, listening intently, his head on one side, and finally glancing at where my glamour held. He looked at it for a second, and then stepped around it with a sigh. He had seen through it! No human had ever been able to tell my glamours for what they are…illusions and nothing more. They were not the height of my power, but they were one of the strongest, and this human had just looked at it and seen it for what it really was. I was infuriated, and making a low whistling noise that rose and fell like a howling wind, I set off after him, intent upon following him. Only this time, he would find his way to my den. And then I would find out why he could see through my glamour.

Padding silently after him, one with the waters, I whistled, leading him on.

5th October 2005, 05:14 PM
I can guarantee that there will never be a six day gap again. Even busy like I was, I find my own behavior unacceptable.

= Joseph Faust =

You think I cannot see you marsh nymph? Do you find your steps silent, your swamp a grave in which you are but a corpse of sound? No. Your magic is visible, even if you are not, and I see you behind. You darted fluidly, one with your wetland, beneath the gray cypress. To find you? I have but to close my eyes, and there is there, and you are there. I grow tired of your attempts at checkmate.

I let each thought coalesce in a silent breath as my footfalls halted, and then yelled to the wind. "Cyane was a lovely creature of water, but she failed to make the god Hades yield in abducting his bride, Persephone. She collapsed in a pool of tears. Are you to do the same, my fair swamp mistress, now that I have found you?"

As the last word was spoken, I heard a faintly audible splash. I had seen through her illusion, and I had seen her. The truth, however, was that her presence in my mind was magical. My perception was not as keen as she was now likely to believe; she could have struck from the shadows, and it would be difficult for me to pinpoint the instance of her magic until she was almost too close. My own attunement was all well and good, but still, in this environment, she had the advantage. It was just luck that she was more interested in me than interested in analyzing me, which was a bit of a paradox.

It was so that the marsh spirit appeared, straggly mud brown hair and a pale face that seethed of peat. She was slender, and with a face of chiseled beauty, but she was like a piece of art that was only appreciated by some. The sharpness of her chin and nose, the odd hue of her eyes...; she was like a work of Picasso, being so abstract, but somehow so curiously inviting.

"You invade my homeland, human." The words may have been spat at any other time, had it not been her interest that overcame her emotions currently. As she said the word human, I wondered how she had come to know what a human was. As far as I knew, there was no one in the area of our group's race, but that could change.

"And what a fine home it is." It was suggested as flattery, but their was a tinge of sarcasm deep beneath. Slight annoyance flashed in her eyes with a tint of blurred bronze, but bemusement as a grin crossed her face and the color of each iris turned dandelion yellow. I continued, slowly gaining a feel for the "woman's" personality (calling her beast might have been derogatory). "I apologize, I will leave with all speed if you wish it." The words were jumbled almost, as I struggled with a newfound sense of etiquette.

The look that undermined her eyes was uncharacteristic and impossible to read, possibly because she struggled with more than one thought; she replied in a nearly sincere matter, but there was a bit of deceit in her voice as she said, "My hospitality is your's if you'd so wish to follow me back to my den. I have questions for one of your race."

"I will accept your invitation..." she sighed, likely of satisfaction, "if you could sidetrack my pursuer." Her frown was deep and her eyes flashed yellow wine. It was blatant that her mood was anger.

"You invade my territory and you ask a favor! Is there no end to you humans' insolence? I could have one of my servants eviscerate you in several ways before you took another step!" I tapped my foot, impatient of her wiles. Her features were again unreadable.

"I will do your favor, but I decree that you not move from this spot."

I resisted the urge to smirk in victory. "Deal."


Weasel Overlord
6th October 2005, 04:22 AM

He wanted to play…well then.

“I will do your favour, but I decree that you do not move from this spot.” Feeling that I had trapped him, I allowed myself a smile, and dropping to my knees, I pressed my forehead to the mud and sang to my lands.

He will not go where I do not want him to go.

Satisfied, I turned back to him, the enigma, to find my parting smile echoed on his face. Bemused, I fled, to deal with his ‘pursuer’. My anger at his request was righteous. I felt a link with this Forest-walker that I had felt with no other…and yet, this new enigma was just as fascinating to me. I would put my dealings with Tryfan on hold while I examined this new plaything.

Leaping fluidly through my territory, I paused by a fallen tree. Sniffing, I sensed the presence of the one I hunted. He was good. Almost undetectable, even to me. But I had the advantage of home land, and he had to splash though my waters. Bending, I scooped up a mouthful of mud doused water and rolled it around my mouth. Interesting. Despite Tryfan’s woodcraft, it would not be hard to throw him off the scent. He had one single weakness…one that was easily exploited, much as I regretted doing so. But a promise is a promise, and I sighed as I padded the last distance to where Tryfan crouched, listening intently.

He will not hear, nor will he see, until I have finished with him.

Muttering, I cast a small glamour over him. He heard a noise, far to his left, and swaying into a hunter’s crouch, he followed, eager as a lion cub on its first hunt.
So easily ensnared, I made the noise grow quieter, as if it went away from him, leading him out of the marshes and back to his camp, bewildered and finding nothing.

Brandishing his double-ended spear, he was fearless as he went. How I admired him, with his natural instinct for my environment…but back to the problem at hand. Now that my enigma’s ‘pursuer’ was dealt with, it was time to play.

I had not had a sport for a long time. Not since Pan walked these lands and the wines of Bacchus flowed free as water. I was going to enjoy this, and my plaything was an interesting one indeed. I made my way back to where I had left him, yellowed hair shining in the few rays of sunlight that found their way into my swamps. His eyebrows rose, questioning me as I came.

“He is dealt with. Now…” I purred slightly, applying a little charm would do no harm. “Come with me. And no tricks, I can sense your deceits half the forest away.”
He nodded, that smirk still apparent, although not showing on his face. He believed he was going to get the better of me.

We shall see…

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
6th October 2005, 11:18 AM
A little filler post until I decide what, exactly, to do with Hela... *runs away*
"But he's gone, No reason. No sense.
He just wandered off one day,
past the onions, past the fence."

The oldest creature she can think of lives very near to the river, where the waters cascade about caverns that no one has explored before. Just as there is a clearly invisible line sectioning off her house into the fire country, there is another line dividing this, the river country, from the rest of the island. Although if you wanted to quibble about it the whole island could theoretically be called river country.

Here the clouds are close to the ground, their pinkness in the morning sky fading to mist against the crashing wildness of the river, and Hela is very careful, very on edge, because then the air is damp with moisture, the ground is wet and slippery and muddy, the sparkling drops of the river attack her from every side. One wrong step and she was gone. And maybe in the late afternoon one of the humans would find her legs floating down a stream, decaying badly, trailing leather. Her real body already consumed by the water.

She shakes her head and tries not to think morbid thoughts and concentrates on the pebbles in the path. On the memory of her father and one of his names. She never doubted that he had many. In her hand she clutches the dagger. You can't trust water: it changes.

The cave she is going to is the one deepest in, the one half-submerged in water, the one that she doesn't want to go to the most. There are eight symbols carved in the living rock in the innermost chamber. They are all lines, broken and unbroken, and in these lines the world was summarised into eight essential concepts by a man who married his sister. Because he did this, and because enough men saw the logic of it, he was made the first emperor in the world. And in the cave lives his horse.

Generally, with legends, you see what you believe. If you had been European, and looked at the First Emperor's horse, you would have seen a unicorn with mottles on its back. If you had been Asian you would have seen a qilin, a dragon-horse, and the scales on its back would have looked like a multicoloured map. So because Hela is receptive to most things, she sees all of these, the images shifting seamlessly to make a collective whole.

The First Emperor's horse had no gender, no function anymore since its master had also left, no one to look at the river's map on its back, and it was lonely. A comrade of Hela. Both abandoned by their owners. Born from the waters of rivers, it had not originally been bitter. It became bitter, the taste seeping into it slowly but surely over the days that turned into months and years and centuries and eventually millenniums, because Fuxi had broken his promise and forgotten to come back. Life in the modern world intoxicated him and made him forget. It knows this deep in the marrow of its watery bones.

As Hela sidles (she always sidles in places with walls) into the chamber with the symbols the horse says in its tinkly watery voice: Hello you. What are you doing here?
"Um. I was wondering. If you know. Um. My father."
I shouldn't think I do. But it does. He came to it some years ago, wanting to know about the nature of the river. He had mentioned his daughter. A pleasant child he had called her. It won't tell her until it has to, though. What is this talk I hear about strangers?
"There are, uh, five of them. I think. Three girls and two boys. They're not like us. They're not, you know, safe."
Really. They came through the river. I felt them.
Hela thinks: then why did you ask? but her mouth says: "Maybe you'll recognise him if I give you a name. Um. My father that is."
Tell me. The horse looks concerned.
Now that the name is out the First Emperor's horse cannot lie because names have power, more than lies more than truth. And its eye is riveted on the dagger, on the crudely carved flames on its hilt. Maybe it really is growing old because the flames
just a moment and then the unbasised euphoria washing over it was almost like Fuxi was reading the map on its back again, parting the waters here and there, making settlements. Teaching it to fish with a net in its mouth, laughing at the results. The days when it was important. Then cruel as a hook the feeling was gone, torn away, leaving it weak and vulnerable and hateful.

It tells her, angrily, a little of what she wants to know, the most that is in its power to tell. He went. Through the river. He did not come back, at least not this way. I suggest you ask the bone. Burn it. Burn it till it gives you answers. I could care less. Leave me.
"B-but it says he's not here-"
And where exactly is the here that you mean when you ask the bone? You foolish child. It remembers not to be overly helpful, then turns on her, baring teeth. I said leave.

Hela leaves, running fast as she can, hopping from stone to stone in the submerged hallway. She would look for the humans, out of curiosity, to see if they had been menaced. Then she would lose herself in divination.

6th October 2005, 06:21 PM
Apparently "filler" is synonymous with "eloquent" in your vocabulary, Emotional Faun Chiko-sai.

= Oiyg (oh - yig) =

The light of the campfire waned in the bright morning light, not dead, but muted. The sun overshadowed fire, means for enigma. How did the gray birch Oiyg know this? She did not know. The will of the universe bid that all plants would have no eyes, no ears, but that was not of Oiyg. No, when her great father birch, a pallid white who she remembered only through this special magic that coursed through her, had spread her seed that winter day she had not been expected to survive. She was one sprout in a field of white, but here, on the knoll, she had prospered. With the true sentients, it might have been known by those in such echelons that the snows on the knoll were a chill lake, frigid birthright of the engendered deity that flowed through this island.

Is this then life? Oiyg's branches moved with the wind in what might have been a tree's version of a laugh, but the emotions of flora were unreadable. Only by the will of others did they move, sway, or show any semblance of life. It was so that in this breeze she tried to whisper, pressing her conscious to extend the gap to the wood. Why was this "speech" so hard to create, she wondered.

A low masculine moan did exert from her limbs and her newfound consciousness drew back in surprise. Movement! What incredulous finding! The trees had always known that their cruel mistress was Gaea, and that they had no will over themselves. It was Oiyg's delight that she had grown from this imprisonment. A shrill, and more female, screech emitted from her limbs. The humans heads flew upward in surprise, or so did she describe it with her ineptness at the human words.

Gaea, or whatever force was distanced far beneath her decided that Oiyg had overstepped primeval and unbreakable bonds. She was a tree! To think she could press the natural order! She was not to move!

Gaea was not one for fire, but the scarred ash of Oiyg was all that remained in moments. Her blaze had attracted the eye of each human, and they did not know it, but Oiyg was screaming it in her head. They stared at the horrifying sight and could not see their own eyes red with the blood of a dying independence. She had been stopped from breaking her bonds. Chains were human! In the process of her burning, Gaea had done what she had not wished. As each ash scattered to the wind, they did appear as flesh as the human Joseph had seen. Why? They were. Somewhere, in the depths of the forest, each piece came together. In unity, a grotesque figure would step from the ruin. She was rebellion! She was wrong, Oiyg knew. She did not care. In her sentient flesh, she marveled at each flexing muscle. She was whole! She was newborn!

Oiyg was demon.


The "burning tree" of Joseph's dream. With the enlist over, it is perfectly in your ability to create playable characters with a simple introduction.

7th October 2005, 02:38 AM
Going to try to post to forget what happened today ;.;

~~Lily O'Keefe~~
Wherever our souls may wander, may they find each other in the dark
The others awoke, and slowly, began drifting away from the tiny dimming campfire we slept fitfully at the night before. How quickly things can change overnight, yesterday was filled with mass confusion, fear. Why were we here, how did we get here, questions gone in the matter of a night, never to be asked again it seemed. When once this world was feared by them, they embraced fully, and ran headlong into the graying woods that surrounded the edge of the world, leaving me alone to my musings. Silent and alone once more, I gazed around the scattered camp and the world which was both familiar and strange, and saw something I had not noticed the night before.

Beside me was a crossbow, perfectly fit to be worn on the arm, the wood smooth and soft was the leather of the glove that was attached to it. Slipping it on, knowing it was mine inside, the leather formed a perfect fit around my hand, being neither too tight nor too loose. Perfect. Something that was mine, something that could not be taken from me.

Feeling a strange emotion well up inside me, I had the urge to cry. No...crying was weakness, you should know better... I told myself, but I always found myself doing it whether I liked to or not. I always wished I could yell, scream as loud as I could, call to the heavens as if rain would pour out of the clouds to hide the sun and cry for me. I longed to shout in a sad and wordless song exactly how I was feeling, but I always worried who would hear me, who would judge me for my outburst. I no longer cared, this place was mine, whatever would hear me shouldnt care either. The others, the strange little girl, if they heard and came it was of no consequence. And so my emotions poured out through my voice into one long howl to the heavens.

When I was done, drained but feeling better, I realised I had changed. Physically I was no longer human, I had paws instead of hands or feet, fur instead of bare skin and clothes. Instead of my new crossbow being on my hand there was a tiny symbol of an unknown language. Not caring how or why this happened, I ran off into the woods, catching the scent of the others and pinpointing their trails perfectly. For some reason I felt myself wanting to visit the little girls house, and so I nosed around the woods, searching for a trail that was a day old.
Thats all for now, its something at least -.- Ill try to do better next time when I feel better -.-

Weasel Overlord
7th October 2005, 06:56 AM
~Tryfan Wen~
…In which Tryfan is lured…

Padding through the forest, Tryfan feels whole for the first time in his life.

During his time in the Prison, he felt like a part of himself was missing, but he knew not what it was. Only that there was a hole in his consciousness that needed filling, else he would go insane. Plunging through the River and fading through the wall into this country had been Tryfan’s best moment, and he was whole now because of it.

He lopes through the forest, not too fast and not too slow, hunting at a peaceful and leisurely pace, his goal, to find Joseph, is clear in his mind, but he feels no need to rush. Enjoying the feel of the forest beneath his bare feet, he clenches his toes, gathering muck between them. It felt wonderful. Breathing in deeply, Tryfan closed his eyes and stood, swaying slightly in the breeze, divining where Mathias had gone. He could not be evaded in this, his territory. No one could hide from the Forest-walkers, and Tryfan had become one of the best, only surpassed by the creatures and sentient beings that had lived their lives here, long before his arrival.

He remembers the unicorn, and its peaceful majesty. In his mind, he gazes into its eyes again, no longer mad, filled only with peace. Throwing back its head, the unicorn thrusts its horn into a nearby tree trunk and Tryfan understands. Mathias is keeping high, thinking to elude him by leaving no trail. But Tryfan needs no trail, and he presses his hands against a willow, leaning over a ravine trying to graze the bottom with elegant limbs. He feels what the tree has to say, and thanking it, he leaps off due west.

He can not be eluded. The trail is coming closer now, but then there is something…

Something obscuring Mathias…

Something familiar in its scent and the feel of its glamours. Tryfan had met this being before, but she obviously had ulterior motives for leading him away, so he succumbed to her charms and allowed himself to be lead.

A false trail leading back into the camp, but this is a different camp. No fire burns dully, smouldering gently in a circle of sleepers. There are no people here.

Tryfan grips his spear and walks into the centre of the clearing. There is a scent of glamours here, once again familiar to him and somewhat intoxicating to Tryfan. He feels like he has been lead here to await her coming…but he is not sure who it is he waits for, only that he wants to wait…

He wants it so desperately…

Slumping to the ground, Tryfan puts his head in his hands and weeps.
Spear drops at his side, forgotten, and Tryfan weeps.

11th October 2005, 08:55 PM
= Oiyg =

"Me?" I speak, gazing at my reflection in the water. I giggle in the way only a human can, and further observe the subtle curves of my new body. I poke what anyone else would understand as "eyes" and flinch as a sensation runs the length of my body.

"Ow," I mutter, testing the word with another fervent giggle, even though the situation does not call for it. My fascination is unbounded. I see myself, and think myself pretty. I am pretty, I decide.

My skin is pallid, a sickly gray. Sickly? I do not know the word, but somehow I have a hunch that it is the most ample description. My nose is slender and bold. My ears are pointed and sprightly. The hair on my scalp is matted, white with clumps of black dirt far from blending with the whirling mass. It is long, I decide, after much deliberation. It is not the sort of white they call "pure," I also place, but sown with a darker tint.

Each eye is empty, livid gray and bottomless. My feet touch the water as my stare draws me in, and I stumble and chuckle again. It is a snorting, ugly laugh- but I am pretty! "Am I naive?" I wonder aloud, mispronouncing the final word as it rolls off my tongue. Where did I procure this knowledge of language? I entertain that it might have to do with the circumstances of my growth as... ugh... the word feels horrid in my mouth. No, I dismiss this notion quickly.

In curiosity, I move one of my new appendages and snap my fingers. I had always wanted to do that, I surmise. As I do so, however, my appearance in the water changes. My demeanor is almost inverted, pale skin and obsidian colored hair. Neat and tidy, with eyes of a deep and foreboding slate. I gasp at my image, and snap my fingers again in wonder; I have red hair and a stout waist. This strange magic coalesces again, and I learn that I feel tire with each use.

What is that!? A tree, no, in the tree. I see it! I see it! What is that!? A... chipmunk! I marvel at it as it scurries along the branches, oblivious that the correct name for the creature is squirrel. Quite suddenly, I find myself upon it, and then grasping it in my hand. I give a death hold to keep the writhing beast in my palm, but then it bites me!

Anger! I am angry! I squeeze. I squeeze harder. The little animal gives out a little rasp, but I do not care! It wheezes... wicked creature. Then, a little blood froths from its mouth. It goes limp.

What!? What!? "I've killed it! I've killed it!" I scream, uncaring as to who listens. I glare at my long fingernails, clawlike almost, in reproach.

I snap my fingers again, watching the pond reflection for movement again. Tears well up in my eyes as this does not work. Had I imagined it? Tears well up in my eyes, and I put the little chipmunk down.

I mutter, "sorry, sorry..." and dig a small hole for the tiny guy. I place him in, and gaze sorrowfully downwards as I push the soil on top of his body. "Poor, poor, beast..." I look at my reflection once more, and the eyes staring back at me are hard and unforgiving. "I am not pretty, I am not pretty-" I cut off abruptly, hearing movement.

A creature I recognize from my days as an... ugh... walks in. She is red haired, green eyed, and carries an air of haughtiness. What did they call her? Sara. "Sara," I mumble, before she sees me. I bare my serrated teeth as she enters the clearing, and she draws back. She stares and I hallucinate my eyes glazed over red. She stands up straight now, she does, and ejects a careful response. "Demon," she says, "demon..."


Feel free to take the initiative and continue the Eleiamae and Joseph interaction, Weasel Overlord.

Weasel Overlord
13th October 2005, 04:51 AM

I led Joseph back to my stagnant den. It was strewn with rushes and mud lined each cavity in the ground, and it was the only place I could call my own in my lands. Even though the swamps were my territory, I didn’t live there as such. And now, there was a human here. An enigma to be unravelled. And I was going to enjoy him.

Joseph smirked as he entered my lair, contempt written all over his face as easy to read as woodland signs. His glances fell on the rotting logs, the stagnant pond and the bed of rushes below an overhang of rock chiselled out of a bare cliff face with my bare claws. They were much sharper in my youth…

Shaking my head, I glared at Joseph.

“Something to say about my home, human?” I almost spat the word ‘human’, baiting him for a reaction. He didn’t take it, manners as impeccable as the first time I sensed him, but I could taste his lies.
“It’s lovely.” His eyes flicked from place to place as he decided how to deal with me.

Motioning to a pile of rushes, I gave him a tap in the small of the back, indicating that he should sit. He glanced at me, eyes veiled behind a sheet of dirty blonde hair, but I caught the foul look and smiled, careful to show all of my pointed teeth. Shrugging, he lowered himself gently onto the pile, wincing a little when a particularly sharp bulrush stabbed into his leg.

“Comfortable?” I enquired innocently. He nodded, but he couldn’t keep the discomfort from his eyes. I was pleased. This was going to be fun!

Now, to play the waiting game…the first to break was the weakest, and I had had centuries of experience. I gazed unblinkingly into his eyes, noting every detail. They were a mingled grey and green shade, tinted with hatred but with a hint of remorse underneath. Truly an enigma and I wondered when he would break.

“What do you want of me?” He demanded, mottled eyes flashing with self-righteousness. “I haven’t trespassed; I haven’t caused you any trouble. What do you demand of me?” Shaking my head gently, I glazed over my true feelings with an outer shell of icy calm and added some regret for effect.

“I only want to talk, Joseph. I haven’t had a chance to speak with Humans in a long while…” I let my voice trail away, hoping to leave him wondering about me. Glancing coyly up at him from beneath my hair I judged his reaction to me. He was startled, but hiding it, and his wondering at my species seemed to be bothering him, as if he recollected my kind from a tale he had heard at a younger age.

“I am a type of Dryad.” I decided to fill him in. This information couldn’t hurt, after all. “My power lies in swamps and marshes, which are my kingdom, but also my prison.” I let out a small sigh and bowed my head, allowing some unhappiness to spread from me.

My games all relied upon the strength of my plaything, and their ability to sense and cast off my glamours. I felt that Joseph was probably able to do this, although he may not know it yet. I could sense a slight resistance at the back of his mind, warning him, if he chose to listen.

My plan rested on the hope that he would not know how to listen…

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
14th October 2005, 04:04 AM
Plantae: Thanks, I thought that was filler cos it doesn't really concern any other character than Hela.
Asi: Lily is in wolf form... right? *sweatdrop*
"crazy mother nerve*, one"

Burn burn burn burn. Burn the bone. The horse's meaning, though unclear in words, had been obvious in the telling: not just any bone, but her dagger bone. The dagger bone was unfamiliar (not unicorn nor animal, not human nor piscean) and she thinks that she might not want to find out. She doesn't want to know what had been killed, to make her dagger. She doesn't want to damage the picture of her father that she keeps in her head.

She is seeing familiar territory, now; more trees, more green, less water but still enough moisture to kill her should it start to drizzle; and the humans' campfire is deserted. They were weird ones, these humans. Last night they hadn't seemed like nomads but today apparently they were. The mud on her feet is caked dry over the heels. She leans down and pulls some of it off. Then she hears the howl reverberating throughout the forest.

Heartache and frustration it says. Then instinct kicks in and the next moment the danger signals are running through her mind, the sirens, the warnings, wolf WOLF WOLF!!! and she is looking for a tree to be up in. Not far from the humans' fire she unintentionally encounters the wolf. It is large and grey-brown and though it doesn't seem hungry you can never tell with wolves so Hela scrambles up the nearest tree anyway.

She looks down at the wolf, her gaze anchored to its form, and to her surprise it doesn't snarl at her, nor does it pace patiently around the tree, like so many wolves had done before it. It just sits there, looks back at her with sentient eyes a little sad that seem suddenly familiar, half-glimpsed last night in the light of the now abandoned fire. Hela knows that look. It is Lily's look, as much hers as the look of deception and shadows is Mathias' look. The wolf is Lily; Lily is the wolf. How or why is not hers to ascertain.

"U-um? Miss L-lily? Is that you?" Hela doesn't descend from the tree just yet. Lily might turn out to be a raging werewolf.

Wolf Lily raises her head and whines a little. It might mean a yes, or a maybe. Hela has not had the time to learn the wolf dialect: she runs away from them; there is never much chance for casual talk.

"Was that you what h-howled just now?" Another little whine. "Oh. Oh, I'm s-sorry." Hela doesn't know what she is apologizing for, but she does it just in case. "C-could you become h-human again? I, I'm scairt of wolves..."

Wolf Lily shimmers, for a moment, and then she isn't there, and then there is Lily with a crossbow and no clothes. She crosses her arms over her chest and ducks into a bush for modesty. A shapeshifter. Hela on top of the tree branch twitches a little and apologizes again. "'m sorry..."

"It's okay. You were saying, you had a house?"
* direct translation from chinese chi ma gen, not a very polite phrase; means crazy, insane, preposterous.
Sorry for the shortness of this one, I'm going through acute mental block...

16th October 2005, 10:03 AM
This is a placeholder as of now, but there will be a post here come night in the Midwest. I do, however, want to address the issue of inactivity.

Krystalline Kabutops - I've already had discussion with you, so it should not at all surprise you that unfortunately, your character no longer exists. I hold no disrespect for you (as no one reading this should either), but you no longer have a place in this roleplay.

Drusilla and Asilynne - Technically you are breaking the five day rule, but you both have informed me as to the reason for your inactivity. I do expect a post from both of you soon.

EDIT: Alright, I lied. I misjudged my homework situation, so the post will actually be tomorrow. Thanks for posting, Asilynne.

16th October 2005, 01:11 PM
Yeah she was in wolf form, your post was perfect for things I had planned too :D
~~Lily O'Keefe~~
To fly with wings unbroken..

The little girl, Hela, nodded as I asked about her house. She looked nervous, when I mentioned it, I didnt see why, I was the one naked here in the woods. Color rose to my cheeks as I thought about it, and thought what if one of the men should stumble upon me like this? If it were either male it would be unacceptable, Mathias because...he would stare, and Trywen because....well, just because. One thing was for sure, and that was I wasnt going to take another step while nude.

I wanted to go back to my wolf form, heh, how quickly I was getting used to my new ability. But I knew she was afraid of wolves, even though she would know it was me. And I didnt want to scare the little girl, though strange as she was. She was still a little girl. But I also needed a form that could talk, and since I didnt yet know the capabilities of my new found powers, I chose the first form that entered my mind, the form of a much loved animal of my past.

"Um....Hela...your not scared of parrots are you?"

She looked pensive. "What is that? Is it anything like a wolf?"

Despite the situation I smiled. "No, nothing like a wolf. Its a small bird about this big--" I showed her the size with my hands. "I could ride on your shoulder, and even still talk to you. I dont like being naked so I want to change into something to cover me." Blushing again I shifted awkwardly.

She pondered this a moment longer and then nodded. "You wont hurt me right Miss Lily?"
I smiled gently at the little girl. "No, Id never think to do that."

Slowly I shrank down and sprouted gray ribbed feathers all over my naked form, covering me up as I changed into an African Gray. I watched the Hela and the world around me grow to a huge size as I shrank, my mouth changing to a beak and my arms to wings. When I was certain the change was complete I fluttered up and landed gently on Helas shoulder, careful not to singe my feathers. "Do I look scary?" I said in my slightly comical parrot voice. Hela giggled slightly and shook her head, her face alight and happy for the first time Ive seen her.
This made me happy for the first time in awhile. Funny how the laughter of a child can make your life feel like it has a purpose. I began to preen my feathers as she skipped off down the woodland path.

Hope thats ok, if I got something wrong tell me ^-^()

17th October 2005, 01:12 PM
I know it's really short and pathetic, but one, I have a billion other things to do, and two I don't really know where to go from here right now.

Sara Raize
"I cast this curse and you will find an evil darkness deep inside your vengeful mind..."

[color=#a0ffff]I sat on the ground, staring off into the morning mist. I rather liked it, how the light was softly diffused as the vapor drifted between the trees, giving a surreal glow to the world that I and the others had suddenly found ourselves in. A world of water and mist... And I, a dark flame, ensnared within.

My stomach rumbled, and I hugged my knees closer to me, trying to ignore the stabbing hunger pains. My vision swam slightly and my head ached, but whether that was from hunger or this strange new power I seemed to have suddenly, I didn't know.

I could see things... pictures associated with strong emotion, a random slideshow that refused to stop. It seemed that I could also 'give' the others my own thoughts, and I had a much better handle on that. But what had happened between myself and Mathias... I hadn't been able to control it yet. What would come of that interaction?

A sudden torrent of images flooded my mind; swamplands, wolves, fire spirits, strange creatures... I cried out in pain and cradled my head.

"Please... make it stop... please..." I whispered.

17th October 2005, 11:13 PM
Alas, I shirk my duties until the last possible moment. Herein lies a... spontaneous post.

= Joseph Faust =

Dryad, Nymph, it made no difference. I could feel the nag of her magic at the back of my mind, and though it was too early to be sure that I possessed the knowledge to realize it, I believed that it was some sort of illusion. I had not only seen through that quicksand trap earlier, but seen a sort of double image. I had seen it as she had intended, also, and now I nearly understood. The feel of her glamour at the back of my mind was similar but I couldn't place it. "Sara," I muttered quietly, letting the syllable float some inches from my face, but not pricking any interest from the Dryad.

It was in my inherent nature to decipher this being's fact from her fiction, but I could not sense her motive. Was it so simple as the one I imagined? Surely she could not be but a seductress who had grown lonely and tired of seeing the same terrain day after day. I felt a sort of pity for a second or two, but realizing the terrible thing it was, discarded it. It was not in my blueprint to have a discussion with an almost Fae creature just for the purpose of having it, but it was the least I could give to the needles in my conscience.

"There are six of us here," I began, near breathlessly from a small exhaustion, and watching as the Dryad's ears perked up. In an inconvenient second, my eyes blurred and I was incapable of reading her actual expression. I assumed she had interest to this detail, or those that followed, but she could be feigning it. "Ours is a loose company, as you noticed with Tryfan's pursuit of myself. We hold no connection to one another but that we are here, and we are the only humans, or so we would assume. Having heard your words, I know this to be true."

Her yellow eyes glazed a sort of bronze in contemplation, and she asked, carefully and with much hesitation, "How are you here?"

"We are here." She sensed that I knew no answer, and sat back against the cave wall, resigned. "We know of no way back."

"Hmm," was her only reply. It was then, in sudden revelation that a thought occurred to my fickle mind. Was not life a path? If it was, as the poets had described it, was there not a going backwards? A path was no path if it only went one way. We did not live in a world of black and white morality, as I knew but failed to understand.

I gazed into the being's eyes, sensing the charm that furled off her in a sort of blue heat. How easy it would be to give into that warmth... I knew, that if I wanted, I could.

I stood up, and began towards the cavern entry at a brisk pace. The female made no attempt to stop me, but cried out quietly. "Will you not stay longer?" She urged it with a silent intensity.

Only after making a small and mildly whispered pact to not secede my resilience did I mutter, and look at her out of the corner of my eye, before taking hesitant steps back and seating myself on a protruding rock. "It could not hurt."


I hardly continued it for you, Weasel Overlord, but hopefully your character can pick up on a bit of Joseph's intentions. There may be another post of mine tomorrow, if someone else posts after me and in ample time.

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
18th October 2005, 11:21 PM
Yup yup yup, post coming right up! Meant to put it up earlier (as in, last night GMT+8 hours, but my sister kicked me off the comp >_>) Hopefully this post is within the bounds of the RPG.
(Intermission: Favart + Gevaudan)

Gevaudan walks in the space between worlds, and he does not like it. Gevaudan likes things to be certain and solid and preferably torn to pieces between his teeth. He is always hungry. He lopes with a hesitating gait. His feet unwilling to relinquish the feel of semisolid squelching grey ground between their toes, as far as it could be called ground. Tail between his legs. He doesn't even deign to gurgle.

Gevaudan is the idea of a wolf.

Favart walks in the space between worlds, and he is used to it. Noone except maybe their master knows what Favart likes because Favart never shows partiality, unless it is partiality meant to be shown. He is always hungry. He walks with the certainty of someone that knows what they are going to be doing two hours from now, and that it is going to be the exact same thing they will be doing until the end of time. Sometimes he has two feet and sometimes he has four. He feels that gurgling is a Bad Habit.

Favart is the idea of a man-wolf.

They do not speak when they are faced with silence so forbidding.

Eventually they reach a point where they are so hemmed in by the dark grey walls closing in on them where there was once infinite space that they walk in single file. Gevaudan in front because he is always more ready to hurt. And then later Favart in front, because his resolve is the greater. To try to find anywhere in the space between worlds without resolve was foolishness.

They twist and turn and wind about, and when the ground begins to be a mud-packed floor, set with ashes, there is at first a very slight pinprick of light visible, reflected off Favart's teeth spread in a very subtle grin.

The glow comes from behind a door, one of many. What matters to Favart is the very presence of doors, and not the number of them that appear. He does not even flinch at the thought of floundering through Terra Incognita, many-doored (with bolts), without map or landmark. It means that they have reached the inside of the house. The inside of Hela's father's house. The house with a labyrinth.

The house with the heart of Chaos.


As far as Hela knows there are only two doors in her father's house: one on the outside leading to the inside (with bolts) and one more on the inside leading to somewhere she doesn't know (with many more bolts). But this thought, perhaps relevant to later events, is far from her mind when Lily perches on her shoulder.

No creature except her father had ever touched her voluntarily before, without wish to do harm. They were too afraid of her nature. Her trembling-on-the-edges incandescence. Or they thought her unworthy of their attention, a smallish too-nervous fire sprite hanging on to memories of a missing father. There were better things to do. Like living.

Hela decides that she likes parrots, much the way that she had liked unicorns until she had found out that they were possessors of an arrogance beyond all reason. When Lily mimed falling off as they brushed a young fir that Hela walked into, unthinking, Hela laughed a light soft laugh that she hadn't laughed since forever. Lily fit neatly into the hole in her which her father left behind, among other things. She cared. And she didn't lie. Not to her.

Which was enough for Hela.

Although she does not realize it, Hela begins now to miss her father a little less. The hard edges of the hole smoothened over. An unconscious step taken to save herself before it was too late.

They reach the bogland and something in the obtuseness of the swamp fog tells Hela that they will be mazed the moment they set foot in the squelching semisolidness of the marsh. Strange people live in the marsh. Hela doesn't linger there. She goes the long way round. Lily on her shoulder senses the stiffness return to her shoulders.

"We're not going through the marsh?" she says in her parrot-voice.
"No." Hela, tiptoeing on a large tree-root, looks for the little path through the firs which leads in a round-and-crooked path to the Iron Stones, more forest, fire country, dead trees, and eventually, her father's house. She is planning to just show Lily the house. Not to go inside. "Um. Something's happening. In the marsh. Not safe."

Lily turns back to the marsh. She seems to be looking for something as well. The moment passes and Hela locates the primrose-lined path, barely visible because the season for primroses is nearly over. The parrot-voiced Lily says, cocking her head to the side like a real parrot, "I thought I saw people in the marsh..."

"Swamp people are funny," Hela replies, as usual choosing mild words to cover harder ones, like not safe for life-threatening. And funny for morally ambivalent. She always tries to think for the best. "If there's s-someone, that's, uh, not them inside the marsh already, uh, I don't think we should i-interrupt."

Lily is still craning towards the marsh. Deciding.
Uh, tag?

Weasel Overlord
20th October 2005, 04:50 AM
~Tryfan Wen~
He will not be led…

Tryfan Wen threw his hands to his side and decided. He was going back into the swamp. No bloody Dryad could deter him from going where he wished in his forest.

Smirking slightly at this unconscious reference to his new home, he stood up and dashed the tears from his eyes. The clearing actually did resemble the original one, although he had heard long ago in the mists of his childhood that Dryads were tricksy. She had probably laid glamours for him, and he, not thinking, had followed them blithely.

From the first time he saw her, she had captivated him. Although he told himself that this was the point of Dryads. They had no truth in them, only tricks and illusions of love. He still couldn’t help the way he felt. When she had picked him up by the Unicorn pond, he had been ensnared by her wiles, and it would take much to break free of her.

Meandering to the edge of the clearing, he peered out between the trees, clutching his spear. There were blurred shapes, moving slightly, murmuring among themselves. He dismissed them as illusions and continued, pushing through the undergrowth, careful not to break a branch. He was on the very edge of reality, he could feel it bending and straining as someone used its power.

Ears pricking, he turned in the direction of the childlike voice. On the edge of the marshes, just on the border, was the fire-spirit girl…whatshername, Hela. That’s it. And she had something with her that sounded familiar.


“Swamp people are funny.” Tryfan stifled a smile at this. What an understatement. She had obviously met the Dryads before and was wary of them. And with good reason.

Clearing his throat quietly, but just loud enough to be heard, Tryfan stepped out from his watching place and waved at Hela, to put her at ease. She started slightly, and then sighed, looking at the parrot on her shoulder.

“He’s one of you, isn’t he?” She grimaced a little as she spoke, obviously unwilling to address me.
I walked forward, my hands out with my spear dangling loosely at my side.

I am no threat.

She seemed to get the point, but still glanced at the parrot for guidance. The bird looked at me sidelong, as only a bird can do. Studying me, as if for reactions.

“Lily?” I enquired. “Is that you?” If a bird can ever show an expression, the parrot did so then. Shock registered and I thought to explain.
“You don’t smell like an animal. You smell like you…”
Which is very seductive, actually… I thought it best not to air my thoughts yet. The Dryad was still heavy on my mind. Damn her glamours!

Hela glanced sharply at me, as if she knew my secret thoughts and I blushed. Giggling, she turned to Lily and whispered something. It sounded like ‘change’ to my newly attuned ears, but I couldn’t be sure. The Lily-parrot shook her head and fixed her beady eye on me.

“Why are you here, Tryfan?”

“I heard you…I was…following…following Mathias…I...er…thought you might be in trouble…” I finished lamely, knowing that she didn’t believe me.

“Hela was showing me her house.” The girl nodded.

“I was only showing you it…” She added. “It’s…strange inside…not good for you…” My curiosity was instantly aroused.

“Hela? Will you show me too?”

23rd October 2005, 08:23 PM
= Oiyg =

I cock my head curiously at the human creature, sitting with her knees hugged tight and red strands dangling over those green pools. An hour or two ago, I climbed the tree I sit in now and had stroked the wood fondly. It is a sort of sympathy I have for these trees, I finally decide now after stumbling over the thought for an hour.

My eyes cannot be distracted from the red-haired girl, Sara, I say in whisper, testing the foreign language on my tongue. My understanding of this "human speak" is primitive, so I stumble over the syllables. "Sah-rah," I say in a long drawl, and stop speaking with satisfaction.

My stomach grumbles and I stare at it an awe, but then quickly back to the girl. I am hungry, I realize, is this girl too? Is this why she rubs her tummy so and clutches it as if in pain? It must be. I drop from my perch to the ground awkwardly, a sharp pain running through my left leg as it takes most of the weight from the fall. I let out a little whimper, but quickly stand upright, and stumble. Stepping backward, I see a pebble. I curse this pebble for making me trip. Stupid pebble.

With a sense of purpose now, I continue onward and sing in a low creaky voice. It sounds oddly melancholy, despite my cheery song. Each note comes out a little screech-like, but I do not know enough to realize it would make other people cringe. "I know of a bush, a berry-berry bush..." The awkward pitches continue to roll forth from my mouth, until I find my bush and its berries. Having been an... ugh... I know this plant. It has little blue, oval-shaped pods that have a couple purple fruits each. The fruits are crisp, almost dried, and needlelike. "Thinnier than the thinniest branch," I muse softly to myself, before taking up chorus of "I know a bush" again.

I scoop each berry and have some difficulty as to carrying them, especially as my pile grows large. "I am getting berries for twosies of persons," I remind myself in a gentle, lilting tone. I lean over and kiss five of the bushes leaves in homage of its gift, but in doing so drop all the little pods that I had been thus holding up in my linen shirt.

I have clothes, I realize now. A white linen shirt and skirt, which I know because of the plant it comes from. It is stained with the purple juice of broken berries, and I observe the stain and the pile with disdain. With the careful eye, I slowly recuperate my stack, further staining my shirt in the process. I laugh, a booming but tiny chuckle, to myself. What a lovely shirt, I muse, so messy. As I carry my load back to my tree, and to Sahrah, I make perfect watch for tripping pebbles.

It is only when I pass the pond that I see my frightful appearance. My hair is strewn wildly, my eyes inflamed green. I nearly scare myself into tripping on one of those dastardly pebbles again.

This will not do, this will not do. The herculean challenge then becomes finding away to snap my fingers while simultaneously holding my "charge" in place. I must change, I must change. Sahrah would be very, very scared or think me hostile if I come to her like this! Ah. I succeed, and I eye my gruff male appearance with satisfaction. I look at my dirty blond hair, and partially unshaven face and giggle. The voice that comes out is masculine and haughty, pessimistic even, and I can only give a low chuckle. I take a moment to prepare what I plan to say, as muddling the words might cause suspicion. I realize, with disappointment, that it will be much harder than I thought.


It has been an hour. It is growing darker, slowly. The sun is lower on the horizon, but it is bright still. I am at the bottom of the hill with my black shirt full of berries, mumbling and continuing to practice as I go up. "Hello Sahrah." I say, cursing as I mispronounce the name again. Oh insufferable changing! So difficult to mimic this boy. It had taken me twenty minutes alone to master his shifty, shifty eyes. Even now it seemed more like rolling of the eyes, and it made my head hurt.

I nearly dropped my load as Sara nearly ran into me. She, evidently, had grown tired of looking at the misty morning and proceeded to pace. She eyes me, startled, and then gazes at the berries hungrily.

"Hallo..." I say quietly, and offer my shirt with the little pods to her.

"Are these safe to eat?" She asks it, but I can see that she probably knows the answer, and that by the look of her sprawling red hair and eyes, would eat them just the same.

"Yes. These be good-" my sentence breaks as her eyes raise. Drat! Must keep humany language right! Must! However, she gives it little thought and proceeds to tear through the pods, stuffing berries in her mouth. She blushes as I watch her ravenous behavior, and I say, "No worry" in a thuglike manner.

Assured that I don't mind her etiquette, she offers, "About before..." What? My mind is thrown for a loop. Did I pick a wrong disguise? About before what? Then I remember, and groan internally at my bad luck. My mind has forgotten that the boy had run off after looking at this Sahrah before. I drop the rest of my berries at her feet, pivot, and run full tilt in the direction of the forest. My concentration as broken, and my linen skirt flits in the sudden speed. My shapeshift is dropped, and I can only wonder Sara's reaction as she sees a swarthy, filthy woman bolt into the distance.

Afterwards, far away and looking at my reflection in a puddle, I contort my own looks into a strange curve of the mouth and widened eyes. "Many worse than that," I decide, aloud, "many times..."


24th October 2005, 10:11 PM
I'm sorry about the double post, but this is a necessary addition. Below is a map of the River World (which I tried to keep as close to Hela's geographical description as possible). There is further explanation below.

The River World (http://img409.imageshack.us/my.php?image=theriver4fr.png)

With the scale, the approximate size of the island is about two hundred and forty square (21 mi. at the longest, 15 mi. at the widest). The map is nearly self-explanatory, but a note on the question mark near the blue line.

The line is what Hela believes to be the River, but with exploration is actually less short and less grand than what would be expected from the "entity" that brought the five here.

Also, the large dotted line I dubbed "Hela's fine line" is the line in which she has not crossed (sorry Emotional Faun Chiko-sai if this messes with any of your plans) and thus not explored. Eleiamae, by assumption, has not crossed this line either.

The only decipherable thing beyond this line is dense forest and a deep foreboding (the reason Hela has not crossed it). If you look close enough, you can see tall, misty mountains in the distance.

The entire island is wreathed in thick mist, a little thinner the farther South, and that flows inland a little over the Marshes.

The elevation scale of the island is highest at the mountains and inland of the bottom peninsula, and at the top near the knoll and Dense Forest. The sparse forest is lower, the Marsh lower still, and the Fire Lands is almost entirely flat.

Anything not explained or thorougly explained is well up to the rest of you, and do not be bothered to add length or width to the land beyond Hela's Fine Line; please do not change the apparent size of anything above the line.

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
28th October 2005, 12:22 AM
Yeah, I'm late... *rearranges eyeballs so that they do not continue focusing on page 348 of Going Postal, and instead on incomplete post on computer screen* Um.. aheheh?
"enn oh"

Marshes. Swampland. Bog. It didn't matter which name you used for it, but what was certain was that they drove minds in bodies crazy. It was the marsh gas, and the will o' the wisps, some people said, but more said it was the fault of the nymphs that lived there, because of course they were already stark raving mad themselves, and they wanted to spread it around.

Or so Hela had been told. However, the thing that moved her to not completely trust Tryfan was an instinct deeply rooted, an instinct that hit her repeatedly on her mental head and reminded her whenever things were horribly, hopelessly wrong. Tryfan was wrong, just as Mathias last night was wrong, although not to the same extreme degree of wrongness that Mathias had been. And so she knew, because that instinct knew, that if she brought him to her father's house,

Her father's house, with bolts on the outside of the door and not the inside, squat woodcarvings on the beams, where even wolves had not the heart to pursue her, with a heart of chaos masquerading as a labyrinth, where inside she must do the fire divination with the dagger by herself so as not to put Lily at risk because her father's fire protection did not extend to outsiders, indeed hardly extended to her, and bad things happened to other people in the house which would only bend to her father's will and wrap itself around her father's shoulders like a pair of enclosing arms,

he would want to go in without her permission or the house's permission, and later in through the door that opened to endless rooms, and that would have been the conceivable last that anyone would have seen of him. Even the marsh people could not save him then, if the house swallowed him. You needed lodestones and a lot of luck in that house if you were not her father. So that you could find your way back. And even then it was not certain that you could find your way back.

When her father had been angry with anyone, which was a very rare occasion and never without justification, (he was not a capricious man, although in the time before Hela's birth he might have been) he would put the unfortunate creature inside the endless rooms, and a day later it would become grey ashes, and the walls of the rooms were a little richer in colour. And when the wanderlust seized him he would go through the door and not come back for a few days. When he did come back Hela would ask him where he had been. The answer was always:

"Lost within the boundaries of my fluttering heart." With a scarred grin. And a fond hug for Hela to show that everything was really all right.

But it was never all right for anyone else to do what he had done. (Because, says a voice in her instinct, the endless rooms would eat them alive, in more ways than one.)

So now she looks at Tryfan, trying not to shiver, and says in answer to his question: "No, I couldn't."

"Why not?" There is a sort of shifting in his eyes. He was claimed by the nymphs, already. Hela wrings her thin fingers beneath his gaze.

"B-because-" (the house would eat you alive) "-b-because I c-can't. And y-you would want to g-go inside n-no matter what I d-did or said, and you wouldn't c-come out ever again, and I would b-be in horrible trouble with t-the swamp p-people."
(Postscript: Gevaudan)

Gevaudan is a little less hungry. After uncountables of neverending charcoal-grey blackness after the doors (though at least the ground was hard, now, and did not feel as if it might suck him up to his bones and not even leave the marrow; nevertheless he slunk very close to Favart's sometime legs, and cowered in a discreet fashion) he and Favart have finally encountered a thing. A thing as incongruous as an eight-legged rocking horse, but.

Favart said that they could destroy it.

When Gevaudan sunk his jaws into the ash planks of the rocking horse he tasted flesh and ripped living tissue, and it was good.

At the time.

Weasel Overlord
1st November 2005, 10:08 AM
I'm so sorry for such a delay...my mind has been very blah lately...*punches mind* However, I am back to my usual regularly posting self now...enjoy! *drifts off in a cloud of smoke with the sound of Gackt playing in the background*

~Tryfan Wen~
...No Entry...

So, I couldn’t go inside? Fine, I would not trouble Hela for an explanation. Maybe I would go and do some exploring...or something...But what had she said about the marsh-creatures? She would be in trouble? But why?

“Hela? What did you mean about the swamp-people?” She twiddled her hands together nervously and looked at the floor. She reminded me of a small child who’d got into trouble.

“I...I can s-smell them on you...you smell f-f-funny...like the marsh people do...I d-don’t like the m-marsh people...they’re m-mean to Hela...” She glanced around surreptitiously, as if a marsh person was going to pop up next to us.

So...the marsh people eh? I was quite sure that I had never met any marsh people, although my dream-rescuer had a certain essence of muddiness about her. Well, since Hela clearly wasn’t going to allow me access to her house, I decided to go explore the swamps. She had me curious about these ‘swamp people’ and I felt like exploring some more of the territory anyway.
Grasping my spear I waved to Hela.

“I’m going now, so don’t worry about taking me to your house.” Glancing at Lily, I added, “And if you want to talk later, just tell the forest, and I’ll be there.” Maybe I looked a little too hopeful, because Lily seemed surprised at my suggestion.
I had found her alluring since she helped me out of the River, although now, something was blocking my feelings slightly. Something at the back of my mind, niggling away, holding me back. I needed to know what it was, and I had a feeling that I would find the answer in the swamps.

Turning my back on Lily-parrot and Hela, I sauntered over the border and into the marshes. Nearly as soon as I entered, I felt an atmosphere of hostility that I couldn’t find the source to. It felt, sort of, North...although I knew that a feeling couldn’t point in a direction, it felt right that I go North. So, North I went.

Treading through the mud and reeds, I began to feel creatures slithering between my bare toes. Glancing down, I saw that they were snakes, a small variety of what looked like a grass snake. Not poisonous. Nevertheless, I felt that they were a warning, or perhaps a directing. They followed a pattern, wavering around my toes, and then in front of my stride, only to be between my feet again.

The mud felt nice. The leeches, however, didn’t. Wondering how far my powers extended, I sent out a tendril of thought to the leeches that were attacking my feet.

-I taste horrible. In fact, you’d do better just to leave me alone-

They got the idea and I marvelled at yet another aspect of my powers as they spread themselves back into the waters. I was curious exactly how many things I could do now...communicating with various members of the forest seemed to be the majority, along with my newly silent movement. I also appeared to have some sort of natural camouflage in the forest, which was helpful in being sneaky.

This walk was quite relaxing, the muddy waters splooshed gently around my feet and there was a peaceful air to the area overlaid with a slight tang of...wait...I sniffed...a tang of lust. Well...that would fit with the image and feelings that lingered at the back of my mind, sticking to my thoughts like the proverbial glue.

I changed direction slightly, a scent on the air leading me more to the North East that purely North. I followed it on a whim, the scent both attractive and sinister at the same time, reminding me of the one that lingered in my dream-land, shortly before finding my powers. In fact, the smell was intensely familiar: maybe I’d had contact with it’s owner before...Only one way to find out. Stepping out with more fervour than before, I added a little speed, although I was careful to make myself silent too. Something was warning my newly powerful senses not to be too forthright, and I decided to heed them. Treading carefully, the forest itself seemed to lend me its strength as I walked the marshes. This was not my territory, and it showed. The creatures didn’t accept me as they did among the trees. There, I was part of them, a part of the tapestry that made the forest whole, and in turn, made me whole...well, almost whole, anyway. There was still a part missing...but now wasn’t the time for that...I hoped to receive a message soon...

Dismissing the negative thoughts, I put all my efforts into blending with my unnatural surroundings. Closing my eyes, I sensed that I was close...the snakes had ceased their swirling about my feet and were beginning to drift away, leaving me alone with my camouflaging efforts. Although a part of me knew it was futile, the creature I hoped to find would sense me before I got close, I continued anyway, getting a strange thrill from chanting myself into the background. Becoming just another inconsequential piece of the scenery.

This is what I was born to be...

I tested my every nerve almost to breaking point before I felt ready to continue my search. The tension as I drew closer to the creature’s den grew almost impossible to bear. I could almost feel her, { for I knew she was a her now}, every thought as I pressed closer.


Hmm...she’s entertaining...maybe she won’t notice me...the faint hope hung on my lips as I lurked outside her den, set into cold, unyielding rock. To my surprise, I heard a voice from within, beckoning me inside. It was Mathias' voice, languorous and deep, with a bored undertone.

“Come in, Dear Tryfan. There’s someone who wishes to meet you...”

1st November 2005, 07:29 PM
= Joseph Faust =

I could hear him just beyond the cavern. It was easily within my ability now, considering the perception I had developed thus far. "Come in, Tryfan. There's someone who wishes to meet you."

He was not about to deny his presence when I had invited him in such a way, and from his movements, he might not even be following me anyway. It was amply possible that his intentions were to Eleiamae. Since I had nearly left the cavern, our conversation had devolved into myself giving concise, laconic answers to all her questions. I could tell she was irritated that I did not give in to any of her charm, but she put on a smile of plastered optimism, and continued her merry prodding, hoping to disengage my disinterest. I sensed her curiosity towards me dying beneath that doll-like mask.

It was then that Tryfan's entrance was a relief, and I gave him an almost imperceptible glare out of the corner of my eye. Eleiamae, I hoped, was not quite up to the subtleties that could be added to human facial expression. In his eyes, I assumed that Tryfan had noticed the glimmer of thankfulness that had passed from me.

The dryad, at Tryfan's entrance, stood up from her rocky stool and a small bit of longing passed through her features; the silence was fluid. I knew she was interested in Tryfan, likely as much or more than me, though I didn't know for what reason.

"Welcome to my abode, forestwalker." My eyebrows raised at the odd title, but it could be that she understood the power he emitted, how his magic blended so easily with the marsh night.

I could not decipher Tryfan's expression beyond an external surprise, but he simply answered, "The pleasure is mine." He may have been entranced. Either way, their eyes locked, but I was could not feel awkward. All I saw was Tryfan step from the entry way, and when the opening was clear, and the two distracted, I slipped into the coarse air of the evening.


I had walked for what seemed hours. My steps were not guided, and I feared to sleep nowhere in this land. I could not tell, but my sense of direction had surmised I was going North; more possibly, I was traveling Northwest and into the dense wood that I had seen off the knoll.

The underbrush was deeper and the moonlit ruts of animals had grown sparse. It was as my first coming into the woodland before the River on the other side, the Earth side. There was not such a distinct foreboding, but an undertone, with no night sounds, that there was something amiss.

I saw it long before I reached it, but an odd compulsion had taken over my limbs. This was not the hunting sort, I could tell, so there was no danger in it. I would not be hurt from a fall. With this decided, I let them spring the trap. I stepped over the pitfall, just as the hunter had intended. What met me was the hard surface of cold silt some ten feet down, and I let out a mild wheeze as my lungs contracted upon impact.

As I came again to standing position, I noticed first the pungent smell of spice and incense that had been vaguely laced in the dusk above. I took a second to observe my surroundings, the eerie green light that emanated farther down the tunnel in front of me. With a last look at the footholds embedded in the wall that was part of the pitfall, I assured myself that it would be easy going to find the surface again. I drifted towards the ghostly beauty of the lantern down the tunnel. It had not been a trap, but I would follow the rigid corners of these underground passages regardless. After all, I reminded myself nonchalantly, I would certainly perceive any threat before it did me.

I only hoped saying so was not overconfident.


Not quite plot advancement, but I'm working on it.

Weasel Overlord
3rd November 2005, 04:45 AM
Hee hee...plot! YAY! The absence of Eleiamae, and she returns, spiteful and mean! Narh!


My conversation with the other human had been dull to say the least; he seemed to have vowed to be as boring and laconic as he possibly could be, and I was losing interest.

When…he heard something.

“Come in, Tryfan, there’s someone who wishes to meet you.” It can’t be…Tryfan?

What is he doing here…

I rose as he entered my home, and I knew that I couldn’t hide my feelings for him. He must have caught my expression for he smiled at me, catching my eye.

“Welcome to my abode, forestwalker.” The title suited him, he blended without even trying. He was very interesting. Much more so than the languorous one who was here before…I caught him slipping away and felt no remorse in letting him. I finally had someone worthy of my attentions. Tryfan had looked surprised at the title, maybe he hadn’t been called such before…

“The pleasure is mine.” He looked, happy to be here…how odd. Maybe he came of his own accord, although I had no idea how to deal with someone like him…In some ways, he was more of an enigma than Joseph was. Maybe charm would work. I opened myself: my mind to his in a connection that I think he sensed. I let feelings of love and happiness flow down that link, hoping to overwhelm him with feelings.

But why does it feel wrong…?

Snapping away from his mind, I reeled and staggered, landing on a pile of moss, my eyes a dull ochre. He reached out at once.

“What’s the matter?” I shook my head indicating that I was fine and got to my feet. Grasping him by both shoulders, I steadied myself and heaved a great sigh.

“My name…I…I am Eleiamae, dear Tryfan.” A look of surprise registered on his handsome features, probably at the fact that I knew his name.

“I was there by the Unicorn pond…and again, in your dream-land. I was the one who saved you from the horrors that waited in the dark places. They lurked, waiting, watching, needing you. For you are so much a part of the forest now…they lust after your power, you know? Even now, in my home, I can feel them reaching out for you, tentative at first, but they will grow stronger…” Oh…he looked confused…what did I say?

“What…what does all this mean? There is a thing out there, waiting for me…?” He trailed off, the information clearly too much to take in at the moment. “And why have you brought me here? I felt your pull…”

His eyes were passionate and deep, looking into mine. He was in earnest, truly had not come of his own accord. Tears formed in my eyes. I had thought he was the one… but no…he was just another weak-willed fool, come under my spell. I dashed at my eyes bitterly and composed myself. He must have caught the change in me as he looked puzzled. I hardened myself to him, blocking him out.


How can you block out love…?

“What is it…?” Always with the questions. I allowed myself a harsh thought and a glimmer of a malicious smirk returned to my lips. He backed away, not liking the transformation, and I raised my arm to him, eyes flashing yellow bright.

“Let’s have some fun…shall we?” I had a game in mind, one that I wouldn’t have been able to play with Joseph. “You run…it’s a test of your new skills, you see? If you reach your camp before me, then you win. If not…” I would not let myself become enamoured with another man who didn’t feel the same…“Well, we shall see.”

If it’s love I feel, then why does it hurt so much?

I dismissed him from my thoughts, all tenderness gone; empty of love…well, almost…

“You run, Tryfan dear…” He fled from my cave, and from my heart, and I made myself stone to him. Hard, impenetrable stone.

3rd November 2005, 01:41 PM
Sara Raize
...let's play with the chainsaw...

[color=#a0ffff]I was losing my mind. It was as simple as that. I was losing my mind...


Oh, but why did I even want to keep it in the first place? Here, here I was far away from the living hell of my true life... maybe, if I stayed here, this would become reality. No, not reality, just... something else.

I watched Mathias... no, it wasn't Mathias, it was someone... something else. Nothing, nothing here was what it seemed to be. What the hell was this place?

It wasn't home, whatever else it may be.

Home was hell. This... this was a dream world. Nothing here is real...

The white-hot pain stabbed through my skull again and tears welled up in my eyes. My hunger was slightly sedated for the time being, and now I knew something could be eaten... if I could find it. God only knew...

God. Heh.

I longed for a god, a god and lover.


That... creature...

Why did that creature take Mathias' form?

Where was Mathias?

Where was I?

Pain. Hunger. Fatigue. Sorrow. Longing.





I didn't have to see my reflection to know that there was fire in my eyes. I abandoned my humane instinct- out here, wherever the hell here was, they meant nothing. Nature survival needed nature-instinct. It was time to let go, let go of the old life, the old pain, the old tale, and become... become someone else.

Someone else... something else...

The fire burned in my eyes, burned from my soul. This world ruled by water would not quench the flame, rather it fueled it. Not natural flame... flame of my soul. Flame of strength, of power. Of destiny. I would not give in, would not lose, would not die.

6th November 2005, 01:43 PM
= Joseph Faust =

It struck me as odd that there was no sensation of watching, no implication that some higher being was following or stalking me. All was nearly silent, and the air breathed that such was not quite correct. With an effort, I thought the aspiring mind might have been able to palpate the bitter taste of an elegy on the cold, dank air here.

The near foreboding I had felt earlier did not persist. I also soon found that the candle colored a pale fir was not from any lantern that I could see. Depending on where I stood, or the direction in which I moved through the tunnel, it grew softer or brighter. I wondered if it was I that was changing the perspective, or if the light itself was floating and dancing through the stagnant breeze of the place.

It was after some time only that I reached a muddied corner of these obviously manmade walls and heard the faint sound of a sort of gibberish around the other side. It was then that I proceeded to peer with caution at my choices: to follow the bend which was likely the entrance to some larger room, or to continue my way and possibly avoid the risk. Then, that emerald glow that had grown so fondly in my mind chose not to wait for my decision. As I tiptoed just past the bend, and realized that there was a being there, but it was too late as a pair of thin but long gossamer moth wings (three pair I learned with exact examination) found themselves fluttering in my face.

The two of us stumbled and I heard the lilting voice of a female, still with her back and wings to me, mutter something incomprehensible but clearly irritated. The scene changed when she rotated her head to the left, caught a glance of me from her peripheral vision, and then used a boost of energy from her flapping wings to sprint full tilt down the corridor to the right.

It was from this diagonal slide of dirt and roots that I soon heard the woman conversing in her language, and heard several more coming along with her back down the hallway. It was my first instinct to run, but if these people were to behave anything like humans, it would only serve to prove my guilt. So I stood, appearing calmly externally but having some amount of fear as two lithe but equally menacing men with the same tanned skin and spritely features of the female Fae came trotting down the hall. Their faces were blurred and obscured by swirling and almost runic tribal tattoos writ in some forest green. I noticed that they were perhaps a foot shorter than I was, but ruled even mentioning this would be suicide.

As they neared, I raised my hands into the air in the human gesture of peace (which I surmised was probably universal), and let the metal fan fall to the ground with a "thud." I could not prevent myself from quailing a little at the sound, with the sort of avid fascination that I possessed for the object.

"My name is Mathias. I do not mean to trespass here."

The men puzzled over the words, murmuring quietly to themselves in gibberish, and then rebounded, "You come peace?" The man who said it stumbled awkwardly over the grammar, but I was still quite shocked by their startling ability of magical comprehension, as it appeared to be. I sympathized with him, also, because it was obvious that in his own language he was a charismatic speaker. Having his words pronounced so ineloquently made his features seize up almost imperceptibly.

I nodded gently to answer the comment, and clarified again in English, "I come in peace."

He glanced up and down my caricature, as did the second tribesman, but they both seemed satisfied as to my sincerity. The man who had spoken knelt and did not cease that single fluid movement to carefully confiscate the fan of mine that had fallen there. As he rose, a look passed between our eyes that we both understood to be, "Be careful with it."

"You, come," shouted the second soldier who seemed a little more irritated than the other. I also noticed that though the other man had spoken first, giving me the presumption that he was higher in rank, the second's tattoos were starkly more intricate. There were symbols that had the appearance of resemblance to some written language, where the other man's seemed like glyphs and that only. Knowing nothing of their culture, I decided to discard the thought, and followed the second man. The first walked behind me, as a customary precaution, and we followed the diagonal tunnel a couple yards. Then, the tribesman who I perceived was of lower rank voiced an incoherent plea in gibberish, and we turned our course. Then, we followed a different, straight lane instead.

This tunnel was larger, and struck me by the footfalls in the dirt below to be more used. Moss grew at some points of it, and we even passed an area of buildings that were set into the walls. If there were people among them, which I thought their might be by the faint and mournful humming, then they took no notice of us. The rest was bland and full only of relentless dirt walls with low ceilings and the occasional rock skewn amongst them. As the path narrowed briefly, the warrior in front took a sidelong step and pressed his palm hard against the wall. A dull, mystical groan surfaced from what I understood was rock face as it slid away. The hallway past, lit only by the occasional torch and the still-apparent mossy brilliance was clearly fit only for these people. I was forced to crouch a little to avoid skimming my head against the stone atop it, and was so preoccupied that I barely noticed the man in back offer quietly, "We go to Elders." I looked briefly back and nodded in thanks, but the man in front merely shook his head and said something in this Fae tongue. The guard in back then slumped, seeming drastically shorter, and encapsulated any emotion on his face into a somber glare. I turned then, realizing that it was best I not interfere with their social process.

It was then a mere thirty seconds before we emerged into a vast cavern, which likely was even more vast when viewed from the public standpoint that would have been past the adobe building that fell just short of touching the ceiling. The chamber had several structural supports, probably three, though I could not see the main square. We had entered in what was like an alleyway in the back of the first building, and here there was a small Fae-sized doorway. The rotund opening was straddled by a wooden doorway, which though it was only a door, showed such carpentry in the furling wooden swirls of the pattern that it was gorgeous to behold. The guards were less amazed, and it was then that I realized such craftsmanship must be commonplace. The guard, again, had only to place his palm against its girth before it swung open to reveal a brightly lit inside furnished with a myriad of neutral and Terran colors. Drapes and carpets littered the stone floor and walls, and a single spiral staircase ascended up a floor. It was from this staircase that their came a woman, her iridescent wings reminded one of autumn, with the eccentric crinkle here and there, but speckled with such a palette of green hues that they were marvelous to look upon. Her grace was unhindered, unlike the woman I had run into who had stumbled at least once when she ran away. At regular intervals, these silken extensions of her body would fold and unfold with certain gentility. A single rune was visible on her forehead, of a much darker green tint than that of the tattoos of the males guarding my person; the rune shimmered as the light of the several strange lanterns passed over it. Her skin was a good deal fairer, but still the ruddy tan of the rest of the Fae. Each black strand of her lustrous and knee-length mop brushed against her wings in a small rustle as she stepped lightly. There was sign of age in her, whether subconscious or not, as her fingers brushed the inlet in the wall that could only have been the banister.

"Leave him to me." She spoke it in English, which I had not the faintest idea of a reason for. What struck me was that each pitch and syllable of it came out powerful, and perfectly clear. There was no accent about her. This was not practice, I could tell, but a great magical intuition. And, as if I had expected any different, the guards bowed low, low before exiting to either side.

With scarcely a single gaze, she said nothing, and began walking off to the right; this direction was towards the front entrance of the building. She needn't say a word. It was blatant that it was my duty to follow.


We spent hours in which she painted a single magical rune on my chest in dust. She said it meant "friend" in the Fae's magical speech, but something about the way she said it made me think otherwise. Either way, no commoner bore me further inspection upon seeing that rune.

She introduced me to the prominent officers, and I knew her only reason to do so was that I, as a human, entertained her. It was then that I kept my comments as appropriate and loyal to her intentions as possible. It was by her own generosity only that she did not have the Fae's standing army, which appeared to be all adult citizens, to be obliged to a public execution. In that she carried a certain heavy implication, as she wanted me to understand just that; I was not a prisoner, but I was expected to be infinitely courteous.

There was barely a moment when there was no song or humming around us as we walked through the village. Once, I heard a song so sorrowful and enticing that I was forced to stop. My guide was somewhat less enthused, but I could tell that even she was impressed by the complexity of the piece. We stood, enraptured together, just listening; we did not attempt to move closer to the singer, who was more or less around the next bend. It was perhaps ten minutes or so that we stood before the composition found an ending, despairing by regret. I longed to hear more, but she ushered me on with a look of "tsk, tsk" in her eye. They were an odd gray, her eyes, and I only called them odd by the standard of comparison. All the other Fae I noticed had green.

She explained the importance of dance, music, and the arts to her people's culture. She told me that the reason for the varied but haunting melodies along the tunnels was that her people did so many tasks by the power of a magical music that was hereditary to them. She explained that this was an issue of controversy, whether there was more heart in a song or in actually doing the labor yourself. From her hard demeanor, I could tell that she sided equally with both, something that was not evident in most of the other Fae. She understood what it was to do things in combination, and even moderation. Though it was trivial, she mentioned that some men did sing as women did, but I heard none of their low hymns in our travels.

When she found the subject of politics, I behaved in a way that was acceptable for a guest. I found that I was not at all interested in this aspect, but I did manage to catch that they were a matriarchal society. Five female elders and one high elder, which it was evident she was. Community members could gather for assembly, so it was no tyranny. It was in this same discussion that she mentioned that women were more generally magi, and men warriors.

Of value to her race were the morals of tragedy and the rituals of the moon, the light (along with the sun) on which they fed. I found out, in a roundabout way, that they were mostly nocturnal, diurnal when the moon waned. There was one thing they held higher, however.

When we passed one commoner's house, a little fairy girl, perhaps no older than five or so, fluttered gently out into the tunnel with amusement. She had a naive grin that was welcoming and comforting, and I saw my hostess' face light up deeply. She covered it by turning her head, as it was her duty to be stone, but I smiled at the girl who continued her silly countenance in glory of my attentions, bored with those of her native companions. I could tell that children were rare in their society and something to be appreciated.

We spent a perplexing amount of time in which I explained our humans’ predicament (and accidentally fell on our magic; her face was indecipherable in that moment), but she could think of no solution that they were capable of executing. "Zhila brought you here." It was all she told me, before elaborating that "zhila" was "she who is" in the language of sprites. I did not understand who this entity was, and there was no further conversation on the matter. I was downcast at this bland and insufficient answer, but I tried best to hide my disappointment as she brought me again to one of the entrances to the tunnels; it was just several minutes before when a male soldier had returned to me my confiscated weapon.

"You have been patient and charitable with me, most High and I am grateful." The matter-of-fact tone pleased her, as did the praising of her station that might have stoked her ego a little too quickly.

"That symbol on your chest will not fade. If you wish to visit again, you may kindly do so. But know this: if you see a ritual occurring, leave. My people are not merciful with those that interrupt the ceremonies."

"I am in your debt for such hospitality." I spoke it in a gesture of politeness, not fealty, but the serious expression that was the counter was not to my liking.

"You would do well to remember it, as I will." With that last, hard word she retreated into the tunnels. Within moments of her dispersal, I had gathered my thoughts, and picked myself up. It was time to return to camp, and to spread word of the mystique of the ground dwellers.


This, I promise, is the beginning of a true storyline.

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
7th November 2005, 11:56 PM
"The Dancers"

Past the primrose-lined path the firtree forest thins out into plains. This is not to say that the plains are any less interesting. They are so interesting that they might be dangerous to the uninformed and the merely stupid.

But they look like flat, undulating pieces of land, with uncommonly healthy-looking grass growing on top, and various species of wildflowers in isolated clumps. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there are no chalk figures cut into the turf of these plains, because there are no humans here in the River world to cut them with. Sometimes a rabbit might venture out to graze, if it is certain that predators are not around. But even rabbits don't go near the stone circle. Even rabbits aren't that dumb.

This stone circle is a little over fifty feet in diameter, and it might be called small. This stone circle is a ring of eight stones, four tall and thin, four round and broader than they are tall, spaced evenly in a shallow indentation in the ground. A little way away there are two large standing stones, with the remains of ancient pigmentation where their faces (if they were anthropomorphic representations) would have been. It is the only stone circle. It made itself. The stones rolled over of their own accord. Or so Hela thinks, and she realizes that she usually treads on very thin ice when she thinks things.

Hela thinks that power bubbles to the surface in the place where the stone circle is. The spot of uncommonly green grass in the middle of the ring, where mushrooms of an admirable size and colour sometimes sprout, is a wellspring of power. The stones are there to restrict it. The unicorns say in their knowing way that no iron can pass through the stones, which are iron themselves, but stone iron, and why this is they cannot explain, but they give her arrogantly knowing looks, and leave the discussion at that. Her father had told her to leave the stones be.

When they pass the circle, Lily the parrot says into Hela's ear: "Where I come from, they told us that stone circles like these were really people at a wedding party, who danced all the way from Saturday into Sunday, and were turned into stone for violating the sabbath - uh, the holy day. And the two big stones there, they were the people that made the music. But usually the circles were much bigger than this one."

"What is a... wedding?"

"It's like, well, when a man and a woman love one another so much that they want to spend the rest of their lives with one another, then they have a wedding. So everybody knows it's official." Lily is slightly surprised at the ease at which she describes a ritual which, so often, ends in failure.

"Oh, mating," says Hela. "I didn't know it had to be, um, official."

"Not always, but it's better if everyone knows about it. So they don't talk," Lily says this a little darkly. Then, changing the subject: "How much further is it to your house?"

"We're passing the Iron Stones now, so, um... you see that forest full of grey trees over there?" Hela points to the line of grey at the edge of their vision. "They're dead trees. Means it's almost fire country..." (And my house, that eats people...)

I have no idea whether the Fae are in the habit of making stone circles. That's why this post is horribly ambiguous. Sorry for the shortness. ><
Next post will be Favart+Gevaudan. I think.

Weasel Overlord
8th November 2005, 10:16 AM
~Tryfan Wen~
…The Chase…

“You run, Tryfan dear.” Her spiteful words kept coming back to Tryfan, echoing in his mind as a shout echoes down a gorge. Stumbling, all his former graceful self lost without her emotions filling him up, expanding in his mind, he fell through the marsh land. No snakes to help him this time. His powers wouldn’t come when the leeches arrived again. He ran with them clinging on for dear life, while sucking away at his dear life. They made a sort of squelching noise as they sucked, and it seemed to fill Tryfan’s ears, loud as a beating drum. Loud as a pulse pressed to an ear.


His blood poured away, mixing with the waters of the marsh.


She would find him easily.


His trail clear as goat’s steps through snow.

Tryfan ran, pell mell, not looking where he went. If he had been observing, he would have noticed the hole.

If he had been observing, he would have seen the partially covered pit trap, already sprung.

If he had been observing, he wouldn’t have leapt over it instinctively, as it was still quite well disguised. His powers were back!

At once his confidence returned, his powers back to their full strength, whatever that was. Speeding up, he entered the forest, leaving the marsh behind. Pausing behind a tree, he caught his breath, and allowed his mind to touch the leeches again.

They would soon leave. And his blood would soon replenish, cells rebuilding themselves in the natural order of things.

Slumping down for a few seconds, Tryfan collected his thoughts. The swamp creature (Eleiamae)…she had placed some sort of glamour on him, and then when it had worked…she had turned…Odd. Almost as if she didn’t want him to be affected by it. Shaking his head, he dismissed her, thoughts turning to Lily unbidden.

Ah, Lily. She was beautiful. Intriguing. And…well…beautiful. Since she had helped Tryfan, looked into his eyes offering friendship, he had been smitten, although it had taken some time for hi to realise it. The swamp creature (Eleiamae)…had been blocking his mind with her seductions.

And now. Now, she chased him through his land. His territory. Revenge, thinly disguised as a game. Well, Tryfan wouldn’t let her win. He would reach the camp first. Shuddering slightly at the memory of her, he grasped his spear, slightly surprised to still have it, and stood up.

A sound! Off to the East…She Comes!

Tryfan ran, towards the camp, springing off the ground with each step. She was fast.

He would need to find the extent of his powers. And quickly.

8th November 2005, 06:24 PM
No post here, sorry. Just an update to the map, and some information on the Fae if you were unclear on anything.

River World Map (http://img138.imageshack.us/my.php?image=tr2lx.png)
Fae Underground Map (http://img138.imageshack.us/my.php?image=rb5gw.png)
The Fae (http://www.freewebs.com/plantae0/thefae.htm)

You can assume that once Joseph comes in contact with your characters, that he basically tells you everything he learned about the Fae.

10th November 2005, 11:38 PM
= Joseph Faust =

By the by, I did make my way back to camp, but the condition to which I returned it was not quite the same as what I had left it at. There was only one person here, a distraught Sara who clenched her knees tightly, resisting perhaps the temptation to rock herself gently. My body felt a tingle of regret for leaving and a bout of sympathy simultaneously at the sight, and I ran the last one hundred yards.

"Sara?" Surprisingly, she was not quite as fragile as I might have perceived her, but answered both feebly but with an intensity in her eyes that suggested a growing confidence.

"Hello Mathias..." The comment stung awkwardly, and it was impossible to hide the flash of guilt in my eyes. "Mathias?"

"My name is not Mathias." I admitted it woefully, both lamenting at the loss of deception, and at what Sara was likely to think of me once she heard the words.

"Of course it is," she muttered, illconfident that I would lie to her. Her features, however, seized doubtfully.

I pricked up my ears carefully, noticing the tracks of Tryfan some distance down the knoll, noted them and the rupture of nature from that direction, but then spoke. "My name is Joseph."

"Joseph..." she tasted it, gazed at me once, twice to approve that I was indeed telling the truth. It was evident, as a certain amount of my initially frigid pretense had fallen. "Why did you lie to me?"

That was the harder question, which I was more or less prepared for. I knew, I so knew, that lying was the only answer, but I told a half-truth. "I was scared, a little. It might not seem like I am quite the type for fear, but I always had a certain hereditary shyness. It was an easy fix, and I really did not expect to get so close to anyone here. I hardly expected to be here very long, but I understand that this is an inevitable possibility."

She did not quail at the news. It seemed that she had in some way accepted the same for herself; what was this new fire in her limbs? Her response was bitter, a murmured, "You lied..."

I almost embraced her in that moment; my body refused to touch but with the mind. "I did. I know you might not want to trust me anymore, and maybe you shouldn't. Maybe... maybe this place is changing me, but I cannot promise that I will not lie to you again. But please trust me that it will be with good reason if I do."

She chuckled a little to herself, before muttering, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions..."

"I think... I get the distinct feeling that rules like that do not apply out here." She answered that with a cursory, questioning look.

And then I told her. I explained the Fae, and Eleiamae, the lot of what had happened to me in the short span of time I had been gone. We sat on the hard ground, and I talked about it all. She told me what she had been feeling, but I had the distinct notion that she had not told me everything about her and her longing. I could tell that the name lie still hung about her mind with each breath. The unspoken implication of the end of each sentence she said seemed to be, "What else has he lied about?" That was one secret that I hoped would never see light, not even in my own mind.

So we did sit. The two of us, until the day turned pitch again and the stars shone feebly through the misty atmosphere. It was then, when we made an effort to start a small fire again, that Tryfan ran out of the forest at the bottom of the knoll; I saw him first and pointed him out to Sara, and we both noted his stumbling. He had his head down, and seemed to be making himself the better for being aerodynamic. I tried to tell myself that I had no idea what may have happened, but I knew I understood. It was the Dryad.


Weasel Overlord
15th November 2005, 02:13 PM
~Tryfan Wen~
...is it real?

I ran until my lungs felt fit to burst, all thoughts of grace gone. One track mind now. Survival. It pulsed at the back of my mind. I would not let myself become prey to the swamp creature (Eleiamae)...she would not outwit me! Clenching my fists, I put down my head and charged the last distance to where I knew the camp to be.

Stumbling, I nearly tripped over a fallen tree trunk. Normally, I would have offered my condolences to the fallen ancient; to it’s slowly dying inner self that only I could understand. But this time, I was on the run.

This time I tripped. Another log...the same one...shaking my head, I looked behind me to find the log I thought I had evaded the first time. It was identical, from the murmuring whisper beneath the bark to the sequence of knots that told its age.

Confusion overwhelmed me again, and I staggered to my feet. Looking around, I saw Mathias chatting with Sara by the fire. They looked particularly friendly, maybe they would help me...


My voice isn’t working...I clutch my throat desperately and fall at their feet, exhausted.


My mouth moves, but no sound...I try to shout, no avail. It is like my tongue has been ripped out...
I grasp at my mouth at this thought, feeling inside.

tongue...moist, warm..

I sigh. It is there. Tears roll down my cheeks as I sob in relief.

So why can’t I speak?

Gesticulating wildly towards the pair at the fire, my face glistening and contorting with the effort of trying to speak.

Mathias turns his head away...embraces Sara

I sense love there...

But why won’t they help me...?

I feel like a child as the tears flood my eyes.

Why won’t they come...

Aw, poor delusional Tryfan...he is delusional and hallucinating, in case you couldn't tell from that pair of extremely confusing posts *grimace*

16th November 2005, 08:57 AM
*stumbles in* I'M ALIIIIIIVE!!!!

...I think...

Sara Raize
Can we burn across the night sky like a dying star? Will you wish upon me as I begin to fall?

[color=#a0ffff]I gazed at Tryfan, half paying attention, half thinking...


Something was deeply wrong. Something... couldn't quite put a finger on it. It wasn't human, whatever it was that held Tryfan and his mind captive....

Set him free...

I stood, not really knowing what it was that I intended to do to help him, but knowing that I could. Slowly, I approached, Mathias... Joseph watching me. I focused my mind on Tryfan's...


He looked like a trapped animal, not sure how to help himself or if it was entirely safe to trust another. I could tell that his human side was crying out for release, but... his wild and untamed mind didn't trust me. How much of that was from the glamours, I couldn't tell.

"What's wrong with him?" Joseph asked, not bothering to disguise the hint of bitterness in his voice.

I shook my head. "It's an external influence. I don't know what it is exactly, but I can help him..."

Deep in Tryfan's eyes a glimmer of hope shown through the anxiety. Let me help you... I reached out with my mind, trying to calm him. The... thing... was like a mental parasite, anchored into his conscious being. I took a deep breath, and pushed at it... it recoiled slightly, but didn't weaken.

Tryfan Wen, speak to me.

Dryad... glamours... so lost... help...

He was lost in his own mind, but the flow of mental babble continued. That was all that I needed.

Get out of his mind. I commanded the other presence. It refused, much as I had expected. I focused on the link that I had with Tryfan's true self, strengthening that connection, gathering my power...

And struck out at the alien presence with a mental blow, shattering it's connection with Tryfan's mind. He gasped, stunned with all that had just happened, and I collapsed in my own shock.

Weasel Overlord
21st November 2005, 04:44 AM
~Tryfan Wen~

Everything fragmented before my eyes, like I look through a broken mirror.

Swimming…like seeing through water. Everything shifts and changes, never relenting.

Through the veil of tears, I see Sara (a fragmented, stained glass perfection) approach me and I feel her cool touch on my forehead.

Let me help you… Something pushed at my mind…it hurts!

I scream (in my head?) and recoil from her touch. It feels like she is trying to remove a part of my body…like a limb is being amputated but I am awake and feeling, paralysed…unable to do anything.

Now she pushes harder…(the pain!) Still, there is no change.

I feel limbs untangle themselves from around my tender mind as Sara lashes at it, all her fury poured into that one blow.

Small spikes and claws detach, leaving mental sores, and the being, whatever it was, left me.

Collapsing to the ground, I closed my eyes and allowed the warmth of the fire to wash over me. I was free! My mid was my own again.

Opening my eyes, I caught Mathias looking at me, and I sensed a slight jealousy emanating from him. My eyes widened and I lifted my head to gaze at Sara. Reaching out my hand, I grasped hers and gave it a little squeeze.

“Thank you…” My voice sounded odd in my own ears. She just looked back at me, clearly suffering from some sort of after-effects of her powers.

Blinking, she shook her head.

“It’s okay…”

Another voice interrupted our quiet exchange. A voice tinged with bitterness and jealousy.

“So, was it the Dryad Tryfan? Did you allow yourself to be taken over by one of her calibre, or was it only due to the powers of her great mind?”

I gaped at him in disbelief, and shrugged.

“How did you resist her?”

“I used my obviously superior powers…” Standing, I wobbled my way over to him, my feet still unsure of their position on the ground. Plopping down next to him, I crossed my legs and closed my eyes, focusing on his feelings.

“I’m not going to take Sara from you.” I whispered quietly, glancing at her, I saw that she could not hear. “She is quite clearly yours…” Hs eyes widened and then he arranged his face back into that usual bland expression.

“I…I feel nothing for her…” He hissed back, but I could sense unsurety and lies. Interesting. If I didn’t know better, I would say that he loved her…but who was I to tell? Mathias was a mystery to us all.

“I only want one girl…” My thoughts drifted to Lily once again, and I was delighted to find that they were not obstructed this time...

Mathias coughed discreetly and I sensed that he had something to reveal…

21st November 2005, 09:40 PM
For anyone reading this thread, it should be noted that all instances of "Joseph" in any post but mine or Drusilla's should be correctly changed to "Mathias." Do not feel the need to change any instances that have already occurred, but remember for future reference that Sara is the only one that knows Joseph's name.

= Joseph Faust =

“I used my obviously superior powers…” It was a mistake the second it came of my own tongue, and was almost impromptu considering my current dismal mood.

Tryfan plopped himself next to me rather discreetly, and I was at least partially glad that he was disillusioned that I was "Mathias," though Sara might well tell the rest of them soon enough. "I’m not going to take Sara from you." He whispered quietly, giving a cursory look to make sure Sara could not hear the exchange. "She is quite clearly yours…" I felt my own retinas widen with a certain intensity, which could have easily been mistaken for shock at someone discovering some inner part of myself, but the less than evident truth was that I did not indeed understand what my feelings for Sara were. I also lamented the way he referred to Sara as more of an object than an actual person, as if I could possess the wild being that she was, for there was a certain blaze growing within her.

"I... I feel nothing for her." It was to my bane that I stuttered, though even I could tell that it was out of the tingle that crept up my limbs, the uncomfortable ache that accompanied my current position. My back was curled awkwardly, and so I thus straightened out, but from my turning away I gleaned no information as to how Tryfan had taken my last hissed comment.

"I only want one girl..." he mumbled, nearly incoherently, and I almost felt for him. If Lily was the apple of his eye, he could have her. Eleiamae had quite clearly displayed her unaffectionate manner towards the boy, and even with my demeanor towards him, her mind games displayed a certain cruelty. It was, however, possible that the Dryad's reaction was a facade.

I coughed, which seemed ill-suited and behaviourally obvious to me, but was likely indiscernible to an observer. In the same awkward breath, I managed a quiet revelation for the boy's ears only. Even he strained to hear with the casual, mild inflection that I spoke and the winded quietness of it. Sara seemed a little unconscious of the world yet; at this point in the conversation, that was more of Tryfan's concern than my own. "Lily has gone. I have little of intuition, but her and the fire girl Hela may just have gotten along well together. They are probably off to that house she spoke of now."

"Yes, I met up with them." He said it with ease, but the tone at which it came was quite enough for me to realize it might contain some evidence of the events that had transpired. I imagined some blushing was involved.

"Pursue and court her if you do desire her," I told him, and though it sounded almost too concise, my intentions were so clouded that even I could easily believe its sincerity. There was none of it, just indifference, but there was no way he could have seen the discrepancy between fact and fiction. It strengthened what little good he judged in me, or so I could tell from his eyes. There was subtle nuances in Tryfan's facial expression that said so.

"I might well do," he added, smiling a little at the thought.

"Also," I did not hesitate externally, but my mind shirked the next comment a little, before I continued, "Sara is not mine. She is her own woman, and just because you witnessed a little lust does not allow you to perceive anything of love." It was slightly harsh, the words, but kind enough that he nodded. I could tell he did not take well to being "scolded," but he more or less now believed that what I had said was truth. I had a certain knack for deception when I tried hard enough, and I planned now to go back on the defensive, but of a different sort. I found that feigning an outward joy with an inner apathy was all too easy. My features had already adapted this small smile that most had, and it was only the first rehearsal. Then, it was easy for me to end with, "I apologize for my earlier comments, which might have appeared jealous. I suppose you would be able to understand why any of us would be in an unhappy mood, eh?"

"Aye," he chimed, with a nod. That issue was then resolved. Sara's eyes were then fully aware, and I took the moment to observe her to make sure she was of alright condition after her ousting of Eleiamae. Sara's power had been before dormant except for those nearly embarrassing images, but the Dryad could only be disturbed by this new force in her land. Eleiamae, I had judged her as a wit, an elegant and refined woman of the marshes; I was proponent of the near irony of such a statement. However, her spite towards Tryfan only heralded one ideal: it was clear that somewhere near to her heart was a certain malice, and she might just take further retribution. I dearly hoped this was not the case, and sensed that she might have been motivated instead on a positive emotion to her vengeance against Tryfan.

And then, an ominous crack split the sky and felled a tree not three hundred yards from the spot at which the three of us stood. Tryfan jumped, likely for the tree's demise, Sara of surprise; I stood stoic. My eyes widened in what was an act, pretending some amazement. There was no fire, for which I was glad, but the downpour that followed, having soon soaked the three of us through as we ran for cover, was not of kindly nature. Sara was shivering, and I remembered grabbing her arm to pull her through the muck once or twice on our mad dash for shelter. I knew well enough that she was not weak of heart, and that was what scared me; to see the willful fearful was unsettling. She was an empath of sorts, and it was my worry then that the slight shade of fear in her pupils as they darted across the landscape was not entirely from the almost unfamiliar weather. I saw no silver bolt, or blur, but a crystal whinny shattered the thunder. The majestic unicorn, then, was even galloping to the highland.

Several hundred yards in, we reached an all to convenient overhanging that I had not previously encountered. It was about ten feet deep into a small hill face, entirely rock, and probably eight feet high. With a quick check to review its bowels, that we had no other creatures for company, the three of us made our way in. We were not quite cold enough to break our silence and mean spirit to huddle together, but we all made an effort to nudge ourselves as deep into the face as possible. It was not so cold at the posterior of it, and the gale and water could not reach it. We nestled down, momentarily satisfied. I caught again glimpse of Sara, who was still shivering.

I realized then why that fear had been there. She was not shuddering entirely out of our bone-chillingly frigid existence, or of the sorry and wet state this motley crew had reached, but of some foresight. She must have felt it, and Tryfan might have even sensed it in the land. There was ringing in the very back of my eardrum, which was probably a small warning.

The night had been brooding before, but such obsidian velvet deepens when only the weary and mournful laments of wind and booming marches of thunder and lightning strikes shake the sky. There were no other sounds, and it was so that Sara, Tryfan, and I attempted to start some meager conversation. I was not too inclined to do so, but I could not deny that there was not much other way to pass the time.

The truth... the truth it was, that we all tasted it in the air with the nature of our powers; it was palatable, the intention. There was something awakening in the night.

"She," I mused.

"What?" Sara asked, her convulsion to tingle with the bitter wind having ceased.

"A part of the Fae culture, of which they refused to tell me more. It seems suitable for mother nature's righteous fury."

"I suppose Mother Nature is like that," muttered Tryfan, our resident nature dweller, before he added, "she has that force of personality. Almost like she has mounted the battlements..."

I turned my thoughts away from the bitterness of this land, as mention of the Fae had grabbed Tryfan's attention.

My final thought to the matter was thus: it was quite possible Mother Nature's opponent was almost as ferocious as she was.


Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
23rd November 2005, 10:07 AM
"Bleak _____"

It could not have been a worse time for the sky to decide to rain, right now, when her father's house loomed quiet in the background, and Lily had flown up to the roof, to admire the carved wolves that sported and hunted over its intricate surface. Hela had tried to flatten herself to the outside walls, for the rafters of the roof were not meant to provide any kind of shelter; but it was clear that the rain was not stopping, and indeed the storm was getting worse.

Lightning strikes somewhere far in the distance, and strikes again nearer, charring a dead tree even further.

"M-miss?! Don't go flying about the roof, there's lightning!"

At the sound of the near-shriek in Hela's voice Lily ceases to inspect the decorations of the door-lintel, and resumes her perch on Hela's shoulder. Another flash of lightning iluminates the night. Hela sees that Lily has now assumed the shape of a seagull, wings slick with rain that runs right off. The wolf-pack howls, telling stragglers to hurry back to the den, it will be a long night; and she flinches.

Strange, that she should be afraid of everything her brothers stood for; and the soft-hearted might say that these brothers were not the sort of brothers at all for someone like Hela to have. Lightning, chains, wolves, snakes - she'd never had enough contact with the latter to actually warrant any fear of them, though. But sometimes in her dreams there are scales rasping against the dark and she turns over and she wakes up with a vague feeling of displacement.

She looks at Lily with eyes full of dread, and she knows that she must open the door. Already her feet are feeling of rot.

Her fingertips are aflame, now, and they burn with a soft fluctuating phosphorescence. She draws along the outline of the door with fire, and doodles a circle roughly where she remembered her father used to scribble his circle, till she feels something tangible take shape beneath her palm and then she turns...

Fire magic, plain and simple. With, of course, the requisite amount of belief.

With a smoothsolid ashen shudder the great door opens. Before it can slam shut Hela is already inside and has wedged the piece of wood she keeps by for this very purpose in the space between the door and its frame. She wants to be sure they can get out again, and she is not taking any risks.

Inside her father's house it is warm and dark. Not a leak has sprung in the sloping roof; not a trickle of rainwater has succeeded in trailing its way through the shutters of the windows. When he had originally built it her father had considered Venetian blinds, as they were all the rage; but his senses returned to him quickly, and thus the house was practical as allowed. He vented his artistic tendencies instead on the gables of the roof, the settings of the door, the engaging tilt of the crooked chimney, and the shutters of the sensible windows.

Two bright eyes, luminescent in the blackness, say: "Wow, it's dark in here."

Hela jumps, but it is only Lily, and she is a cat, now. "I-I'll make a fire..."

She feels her way across the familiar floor to the fireplace, still piled high with dry twigs and branches, and lights it. The room is suddenly filled with the shadows of dancing flames. Lily, a ginger cat with damp fur, wrinkles her muzzle in a cat-smile and pads closer to the warmth. The inside of the walls of the house are filled with shelves, of varying lengths and disrepair. There is a huge black grimoire in a corner where Hela's father used to keep his things, such as he needed. And in the opposite wall from the door leading in is the other door.

(...eats people)

Suddenly Hela wants, more than anything else in the world, to see her father again, and have him tell her everything was all right. Said in that flippant tone of voice that no one else could imitate: said with a fond hug: said so convincingly that it might be true.

She turns to Lily. "I'm g-going to do a b-bit of fire divination with my father's dagger. Begging your pardon, m-miss. P-please don't go in that other door, e-even if it's just a p-peek. Bad things inside. A-already dangerous w-with you inside here. Please."

"Well, okay," says Lily, curling up in a comfortable letter C in front of the fire. "It doesn't look particularly friendly, anyway."

Hela nods. She will just have to trust Lily's discretion.

On the outside wall, the mural of the labyrinth flares red as the bone dagger hits the center of the burning woodpile; and the fire begins to burn ever more intensely as Hela concentrates.
Urrgh... I wanted to add a Favart/Gevaudan postscript... but my brain didn't feel up to the strain. Sorry again for dilly-dallying, as it is.

28th November 2005, 08:10 AM
= Oiyg =

Trees like rain, I think. Oiyg also likes rain, because she too was a tr... ugh. I find myself closer to saying the word, to realizing my old existence, but it is only because in the dark hours I have found more of the shapeshift. The snap is now a mental one, a flick of my mindly wrist, which changes me into the humany-like creature I so desire.

This practice is not done in a dark cave. As said, trees like rain, so Oiyg likes rain. Trees, oh trees, do not like thunderstorms though. They cower, and screech in the wind, screaming in their fear. They are afraid of the fire of lightning, and the vicious wind that blows off their limbs, when they cannot even hide, not even run. They want to crawl away, but Mother Nature is all around them. But... but, the exact reason trees dislike them is mostly due to the lightning. The tree I had seen before, struck, was why. But, that is a blaze... the powerful charring that lightning does. Oiyg is of fire. Oiyg then, dances in the thunderstorm. I reflect on my present condition, changing shapes in this small clearing here, and twirling frantically in the droplets; my eyes are wild, but not of the wild of nature... the wild of a demented soul.

As I twirl a little more to one direction, suddenly I feel the earth give out from underneath. The tumble is small, but I find a particular distaste for the minute discomfort of my knees crunching and scrunching a little, and the subsequent pain, which lasts briefly, but is very irritating. I know this well as the tunnel of the wingy men, the troupe of faeries that I used to see come up out of the ground and their holey-holes to jig in the moonlight.

There was a stench here that I did not know. I had imagined it would smell like spices and giddiness, rather than the terrible fragrance... which, I more or less could guess, was the indomitable smell of burning flesh. It was terribly unpleasant, and I considered immediately leaving.

They come around the corner they do, the wingies, all male. I raise my hands politely in a gesture of peace, but they do not look at it? Why do they look away so? Oh, no, they are not looking away. That is not joy and the dance in their eyes... that is fear, but it was dominated by a glaze. The look was not of any emotion, happies or sads that I knew. It hardly seemed to make sense there, as if duly misplaced. All I knew was that it sent now a tremor of terror across my limbs, which hovered listlessly in my eyes, floating and quivering gently.

They speak, but only in their language. It is gibberish, flowing and joyous, like them. However, it is as malformed as the look of their eyes, and sounds distinctly as if they had spat it through clenched teeth. It dribbles almost, like a rabid froth, from their mouths. It is then that I freeze, realizing my features. In my confusion, I had forgotten to change back from the form of the girl Lily. It had been random, the last morphing I had tried. Now, in my cold sweat, my nostrils tortured by the still evident stench, I could not escape my mind. I am afraid.

The male Fae do not stop... they come for poor Oiyg! I am frozen... stuck in place... a fly in a web... no escape... One, one that I had not realized was a woman, an auburn-haired woman, gestures silently. I feel my lids go heavy, and the blackness creeps into my vision... I feel the vague sensation of myself lifting away, and know not if this is the effect of her magicky actions, of my own nausea, or of some physical force. All is lost.


My eyelids do not flutter open slowly. My mind does not awaken blurrily. I have no grogginess, nor signs that I ever fell away. I just wake, and when I see what I see when I wake, I wish I was still asleep... asleep in a cozy bed. My body is laden, ropes binding my hands and feet. I am upon a crude wooden altar, two gloriously sharpened and cruel pegs that cross and are bound together in their intersecting center. In the crevice of the upper part of this altar is a flower, crimson in color. Then, I realize, the flower is white. The crimson... the burgundy red, darkish pink, ugly, ruddy liquid is blood.

I am surrounded by the fairies. Little-ish beings, gossamer green wings somehow lacking their luster. Eyes all as glazed and wrong as the first ones that had taken me. Wait... wait, Oiyg is wrong. There is a single being in the crowd, a raven-haired being with fairer skin than the rest, and wings that still glittered, but mockingly. Grossly and groggily they go, back and forth. She is not of glazed eyes, this one, but her pupils are almost invisible. Dead eyes. She is in the back of them all, and as she approaches, they all see her and part to the side like water. They flow away, making an obvious path for her, as she walks, closer, and closer... to Oiyg.

She chants as her pace grows slower and more deliberate with each step, ceasing to follow a beat, but creating a soft and hard pit-a-pat as she takes miniscule little steps. Her wings flap gently, again and again, but the very motion of it sends spasms through my body. It is sickening, even in its beauty, for reasons that I, myself, cannot understand at all. The chant is like a screech, but low and rhythmic. Voices, many, in perfect harmony. They say it so carefully that I can make out each syllable with perfect accuracy... "Uilank unteliganbavee." The words turn foul in my head, and the effortless regurgitation that occurs in every one of them fae is vomit-like to behold. The accuracy... the unceasing end to its vicious cycle- it is maddening.

The woman, the villainy girl she is, stops finally at my bound feet. Her silvery dagger glitters as menacingly as her wings, and a drop of blood falls from it, intermixed with a timeless hue of blue that can only be magic. She says nothing, but her eyes change briefly. Vehemence hatred, and duty flutter through her eyelids like a butterfly. She moves vastly faster than I, and slashes the dagger across my wrist...!

It bites! It bites deep! The wound is an enormous gash, but flows blue, and as she yells triumphantly, I suddenly understand her... I struggle vastly to make out it out through the blinding white in my arm. It throbs, it aches, and it burns, and boils with any motion. I jerk, seize up violently. But I do hear her, and she says, "Death to the humans!" An echo roars through the chamber, each Fae repeating the phrase, and she turns her back to me, raising her hand in a gesture of anger to the sky and screaming a shrill note of such intensity that I feel it in my bones... a chilling, sharp, but perfectly accurate pitch that is like the sound of a dying child.

I scream again as I feel the altar pushed ungraciously by the crowd, my body and it falling deep into the black depths of a pit. It is here that I understand the smell of burning flesh. There are animal carcasses vaguely visible as dots from the great height I am falling, and it is only seconds before I join them... Oiyg will be dead. As frantic as I am, the will to survive suddenly hardens me. I am a tree, and I say it easily. I will have its hardness, I decide in that small moment of what is my life. I will find my inner demon, and I will have my anger, and I will destroy! I embrace this!

In my fire, my fury, my retribution, my rage, energy reaches me and I shift. The bonds break on this new form, and I float effortlessly again to the entrance of the pit. I rise fast, flowing past the woman, who looks up at me, unsurprised. I am in her form, the form of the black-haired woman and her tricks. The malignant being she is, and with my wings, which should be wholly difficult to me, feel light and I understand their use somehow. It is no miracle, as my wound is still effortlessly bleeding, profusely and inanely, dripping, some of the drops even touching the fierce pale skin of the woman below me. I fly, I fly so fast. I go before she can cast her spells on me, her enchantments, her delusions, and her destructions. Her way to slaughter me, and my livelihood. I will not die... not here, not now.

The sodden dirt of the tunnels flies by, and I follow the fresh air, away from the near-vomit inducing stench of burning flesh... and there is no light, not in this darkness, not in this rain, but I understand it by the roar of thunder. I grow closer, closer, and the very fabric of my being is shaking. I know she is not pursuing me, and I understand the words she had uttered just before I began my flight. I hear her words, right when I moved more rapidly than she could follow. She turned to her subordinate, at her side, and gave her aside. She had said: "The full moon is in four days. We go to the surface then." But I hardly cared now, as I approached the final exit. The pit I had fallen in and my true gateway to the rain, and the freedom of the wind.

It is closing! It was horrific, the dirt collapsing on itself and making the gap smaller... I could just make it, and I did not slow or hesitate, merely flitting through. But... but my feet were trapped! My beefy, girly fairy feet trapped and I sighed in anguish. I changed, to the slightly slimmer form of Sara, and was out! Out! Out! Out!

But then, I realized... this was not out. The trees around were not the trees I knew. My innocence had been shattered, and now I was alone in a cold world without a blanket of either physical or emotional kind to keep me alive. They were great and gray trees, and there was a stagnant bog stench. I had reached the marshes, by pure accident, and not my rain-dance clearing. But it grew dark again, darker than the velvet black of the night, and an uglier murk than that of the thunderstorm or the tunnels of the Fae. It was a gray and unencompassing light that grew in my head that took me away, on some ethereal jaunt. I could still feel my blood, which had slowed to a trickle; there was weakness in me, exhaustion and emotional turmoil. It was if some great being had brushed her hand over my eyes, and said, in their gentlest voice... "Sleep child." I was cautious still, even in my wreck of a state. But, I knew one simple fact that allowed me to give in, and say, "Yes, yes," in a quiet voice. The fact: I lived. Now, now I was no longer motivated by curiosity. Now I was motivated by vengeance... the need to destroy the thing that had so nearly destroyed me; I knew that I would ally with anyone that could help me unlock the necessary power.


The Fae have been corrupted! And the plot begins its rising action…

Weasel Overlord
1st December 2005, 04:43 AM
…Foiled, but what’s this…?

I had screamed long and hard for at least an hour after being ejected from Tryfan’s mind. Not only had it hurt, the bitch had ruined my plan! And now…I had to think up another.

Padding through my marsh, I found a certain solace in the muddy waters. Feeling the leeches slender bodies feel their way between my toes and up my legs. They would find no edible blood within me, and yet I enjoyed the sensation.

Leeches and mud and water. My only realm. My only subjects.

“Tryfan will pay.” My fists clenched of their own accord and the leeches, sensing my anger, dropped off my legs and squirmed away. I hissed. “Cowards!”

Left alone to my devices, I began to walk again, bereft of company, I wept crocodile tears as I splooshed through the waters. They rolled down my face, my eyes flashing golden and sad. The marsh wept with me, and a downpour began. Looking up, I smiled through the rain and continued to walk. If there was one thing I loved more than…(Tryfan)…it was water.

Precious, beautiful water, gushing from the sky in answer to my tears. The rains understood my pain, and I twirled in the storm, happy at last to lose myself in the downpour.

The lightning lit the sky in great crashes of thunder and in between, I swore I heard a mewling sound. Odd that. Nothing that lived in my lands made that sort of noise…Curiosity getting the better of melancholy, I set off in the direction of the sound, though it grew fainter as I walked.

Off to the left! I padded quietly up to the slumped figure on the floor. There was a seeping patch of red spreading out from underneath her, and I understood that she was dying. Turning away, a sudden flare of compassion (revenge…) woke within my heart, and I turned back to her. Peering up close, I saw that she was a slender young thing, barely grown (naïve) and badly injured. She had the remains of tattered Fae wings but something about them seemed wrong.

As I examined her, a pair of beautiful grey eyes snapped open and she mewled in pain. Passing my hand over her eyes, I placed a simple sleeping glamour on her (like Tryfan…) and she passed into gentle sleep with a smile of relief on her tender mouth.

“Sleep child…” I whispered gently. “…For I may have a use for you yet…” Picking her up (light as a feather) I carried her back to my den, the rain pouring off my back in rivulets that plopped to the marsh floor, mingling and clearing the mud for a second before it dirtied again. Chanting a few words, I erected a simple shield over us. It would not do for her to die when I had a use for her…

Placing her on a pile of rushes at the driest part of my cave, I sat back on my haunches to watch as she slowly came awake. Blinking a few times, her eyes widened as she caught sight of me.

Smiling benevolently, my eyes flashed wine yellow and then to a gentler sunlight colour. No cause for scaring her.

“W-where am I?”

4th December 2005, 08:53 PM
= Oiyg =

"W-where am I?" I stutter, slightly cold, and with a growing sense of something I had not previously felt to such a large degree: annoyance. There is an odd woman in the front of me, her scraggly and ruddy brown hair dangling nonchalantly past her shoulders. She is clothed in green, but it is such a green that it makes me shudder... it was similar in its shimmery-quality to the wings of the Fae woman, whose form I notice I still occupy. Her yellow eyes observe me carefully, they are like... sunlight, and I feel some comfort into looking into them. Despite the situation, my personality prevails and I giggle slightly. I hope she does not understand that I find her eyes settling.

"The marshes, dear girl," she answers, patting my arm in a friendly way. The gesture is lost, however, as the tingling sensation of dribbling blood falls across my chest.

"I hurt!" I shout, remembering the encounter with the Fae, and panicking slightly. My breathing grows desperate, and I exhale and inhale frantically. I can feel my heart speed up in my chest. My wrist is bleeding uncharacteristically, and I feel strangely alone.

"Now, now," she calms, quiet like the field mouse. With her slender hands, she grabs at a reed embedded in the dirt below. She snatches it up, wraps its large width around my wrist and ties it with a quick jerk. I am almost thankful, but her indifferent jerk causes a throb to jar my body.

"Youch!" I yell, and pull my arm away from her lack of mindfulness, but as it bends at the elbow, the pain burns me again. I clench my face, aching both inside and out. I feel a small gap within me, and as I think of the animal I crushed, the lies of my shifted form, and the Fae, I realize that my days of innocence have gone.

"Sorry," she mutters, unsympathetically. I let go of the strand of magic that is monitoring my Fae appearance, as it disgusts me. She stammers in shock, "You have magic?" I nod, politely, baring my pointed teeth, clenched in my ailing. Looking at my face, she eyes the wound, and I swear her face twists into a dull grin. "It seems you need a little schooling in your power, eh?" She says it carefully, like a coiled snake, or cat, waiting to pounce.

I see no harm in saying, "I suppose I could use sum'mat of a lesson."

She smiles, grinning more wildly this time. "Can you walk? You could come back to my lair, to rest and heal," she pauses, "and I might teach you a few things."

I look at her out of the corner of my eye, slightly suspicion, but in light of her hospitality and my hunger for knowledge, I choose to trust her. "Yes. Lead," I respond, finitely. I realize, quite suddenly, that it is no longer raining.

"Yes," she repeats, unnecessarily. Then she grins again. She stands up, and I stand up, and she is grinning all the while.

It is a very dodgy grin.


I look blandly at her home. I frown, in the slightest, but she does not notice. She tells me her name is Eleiamae. She tells me, after I ask her very kindly, she tells me so quite irritably, that I cannot call her Elly. I do anyway; this Elly, she has an odd abode. It is brown, it is dirty (for a cave even), and smells faintly musty. She takes a seat on a rock, and stares out into the muddy night, a vision that is blocked by cypress trees and reeds. Then, I realize, she is looking at the cypress trees and reeds; and the mud, the mud that is not so nice.

The mud, as it happens, chose to trip me on the way to this "nice" little cave. The mud, so it happens, is a savage creature. I slipped, and I fell, and I cursed it, my sworn enemy (albeit second to the pebble; there were no pebbles in marshes. Or were there? It would be a question I must pursue in my free time.).

"Elly?" I question this, but her head is turned, but I get the notion by her still figure that her face is mad.

"Yes, dear child?" She says, after turning her head. Her face is now an optimistic smile. I can tell it is a fake, because it is less dodgy than usual.

"Elly, where am I to sit?" I finish, vaguely, my gaze wandering across various objects in the room. There are several rocks, each similar to Elly's, each of which look marginally (ahem... largely) uncomfortable.

Her face is temporarily frantic, and her eyes flash wine yellow, but then she leaves her seat, pulls some cave lichen from its attached status to the wall, and spread it on one of the rocks in the room. She spreads it on the roughest one, actually. I fail to see how the lichen helps, but she spouts, cheerily, "Now is that not homey?"

I look at the rock, and at the pebbles by it, and at the lichen, and at Elly, and at the ugly, coarse rock again... and then I say, in such a matter-of-fact way that a bead of sweat rolls down Elly's embarrassed forehead, "No." Appreciating her kindness, though, I push past and sit daintily on the rock; my bottom hurts.

She, somewhat satisfied, crosses the "room" a second time and seats herself again on the rock; Elly folds her legs primly, and much to her anguish, I copy her. Her example brings me to believe it is only proper.

We sit, awkwardly, for several minutes. We both stare at each other. My lips are set in a thin line, and I can tell it unnerves her. But, she continues to pose a positive, but failing, countenance.

After this period, she slaps her knee, and bounds up again. "You wanted teaching!" She dances a little, and I cock my head at her; why does she dance?

"Now..." her faces becomes a mask of contemplation, and she mumbles, "now..." Then, quick as a finger snap (which can be quite slow), her demeanor turns determined- and slightly wicked?

She strides across the floor, stares straight into my eyes, slaps her dirty palm down upon my shoulder, and her eyebrows fix themselves in a downward arc. "Now, listen to me, you are going to be my apprentice. Have it, wild child?"

Her inflection seems gentle, and almost without demand, but her speech is laced with a funny tingle that makes me giggle. I say, almost accidentally, "Of course!" The excitement in my voice was not quite the excitement in my head, but she continues to look at me with her sunlight eyes, and I dismiss this thought; surely it is exciting, or so says the eyes.

"Good," Elly says, unflinchingly and continues to keep eye contact.

"Good?" I ask, carefully.

She merely nods, and her face sneers. She is looking dodgy again; no she is not, the eyes say. The eyes, those perplexing bulbs, fall darker at each heartbeat. She laughs, for no apparent reason, and I chortle too. "Good," she finally says, nodding vigorously to herself. And it is set in stone.


5th December 2005, 04:01 PM
Sara Raize
Breathing together in the dark

The storm blew overhead, and I shivered... though 'shiver' is quite an understatement. Convulsed, maybe.

Mathias... Joseph and Tryfen looked at me, questions in their eyes. "N... nothing..." I muttered.

But it wasn't nothing. It wasn't the cold that made me shake so... there was a dark undercurrent of power in the wind and rain. Lightning tore through the sky, and with each flash, each gust of wind, I trembled at the force that I suspected was the true cause of the storm. There was something about it that wasn't quite evil, but was definitely malevolent. It slashed at the edges of my consciousness, and I glanced at my companions. They could sense something as well, but they weren't being effected in the same way. Corruption... corruption was thick as smoke, hanging in the air, and it tried to push it's taint into my mind. My fingers clawed at my hair, my face, trying to keep the darkness at bay. I whimpered softly in my throat, barely loud enough to hear, an animalistic sound, a sound of desperation and fear.

"NO!" I screamed, startling Joseph and Tryfen. I had finally broken free of some of my own evil, and I had no desire to succumb to a new source. I would fight...

I ran into the storm, rain partially blinding me as I plunged forward. I didn't need to see, though... like a bat, I "saw" in my mind where I was going. I pushed forward with my mind, and the nearby landscape unfolded in my thoughts. Branches of trees still tore at me, at my clothing, though, ripping the delicate fabric and drawing blood in thin rivulets that mixed with the rain and ran down my body. The pain was distant, like it wasn't really mine, and dull... I ignored it.

I don't know how far or how long I ran before I collapsed in a small clearing at the foot of an ancient tree. The moment my hands touched the roots of the towering tree, calm flooded my mind. I sobbed in relief, water pouring down my face and my hair dangling in wet strands. Mathias... Joseph approached me, slowly, unsure...

Sorry, gotta run... But I think someone can pick up from here.

Weasel Overlord
6th December 2005, 06:15 AM
…Apprentices and illusions…

My main aim for this…child was to seem entirely harmless. Naïve as she first appeared, I was sure that underneath her façade, she had a store of guile and inbuilt knowledge. And anyway, her experiences with the Fae can’t have been good for her, coming away from them almost dead.

Ah yes, her wounds. I used a trickle of my magic to bind her ribs with a bulrush and she was experiencing pain in her elbow, which I managed, perhaps too sharply, for she cried out.

Now. Now she was all fixed and I had work to be done. Capering slightly as I went about my abode I attempted to throw her entirely off course about my true intentions and nature. No doubt if she caught sight of what lay beneath my skin (anger…jealousy…love) she would flee like prey before the hunter, only to lose herself in my marshes. The girl’s innocence was almost amusing to me…

Elly? What sort of name is that for one of my kind?…my face froze into a mask.

“You may not call me that…it is unbefitting for one such as myself…” Her face had fallen and I had smiled. A victory! I would break her…and I would enjoy every minute of it. For now, however, I needed to put her at ease.

Rearranging my face into happiness, I approached her as she sat on my rock, squirming with discomfort despite the luxury I have put in place for her.

Ungrateful! My mind hissed at her from within its confines, chained for the moment before my indomitable will. No! I will not let it free yet…in time…

Capering a little to put her at ease, I worked my way over to her until I was staring deep into her eyes. Concentrating, I worked one of my glamours; most secretly though, I had not yet got the measure of her magic. She would love me, if not like me. She would be my apprentice. Yes!

“Now, listen to me, you are going to be my apprentice. Have it, wild child?”

She giggles and I ply my glamour harder, gazing deeper into the depths of her eyes.

“Of course!” Her voice is high and girlish and I nod in satisfaction.

“It is good.”

“Good?” She questions me then. That will not do. But that is for later…

I giggle with her. “Good.” For now, I will be kind, gentle, and what she senses, why, I shall soon dismiss.

Keep her busy, that’s the aim of the game. She won’t have time to question me.

Meanwhile, this storm…most unnatural it seems. I glance outside, breaking our contact for a second.

“The rains have stopped.” She nods, perhaps already knowing.

“Something is abroad this night…” I mused aloud. Snapping my fingers, I glared at her again, not quite hiding the longing in my eyes.

“What is your name, child?”

“My name…oh, my name. I am…Oiyg…I think…” She looked slightly puzzled, her tender mouth pursed delightfully. “Yes, I am Oiyg.” I smile at her and she looks worried. Maybe I cannot hide the predator inside…

“Have you met any of the…humans yet?” My eyes light up without my permission and I scold them back into blankness.

“Oh yes!” She chirped. “I have met one or two of them. Well, only one actually…her name was Sara...” I waved my hand in an attempt to silence her prattling. Sara was not the one. …Not the one I wanted… (desperate now…) No! I silenced the voices inside. I am stone! Stone to him! Shaking my head, I catch sight of her bemused frown.

Don’t show weakness…

I can survive alone! I have done it before. Turning on the girl…Oiyg, I snarled at her before reigning in my emotions.

Shrinking away from me slightly, I swiftly put on a sickly sweet smile.

“Do not worry child. I shall not hurt you.” I did another jig to put her at ease and came to a stop at her feet. Glancing up at her, I smiled again.

“So, you want to learn, eh?” She nodded in excitement. “What type of magic do you have, child? What is its nature? Its strengths, weaknesses…if I am to teach you, I must first know the nature of what lies inside you…” She shakes her head and smiles shyly.

“I don’t know any of that, Elly. I …I’m Oiyg. I don’t know owt of my magics…” I sighed. This was going to be more trying than I had first expected.

“Okay then…Oiyg. What do you know?”

“I know that the fairy creatures aren’t nice…” She scowled, a shadow coming over her lovely face, her mind obviously turning to her wounds, inside and out.

“I have a task for you that will help you get your revenge on the creatures that hurt you so…” I tipped her chin so she was looking into my eyes again. “I know what they did to you…poor child.” I stroked her hair, brushing a strand out of her face.

“Elly won’t let them get away with it…” I could risk it…a bargain, then.

“You know, there is someone…someone who has hurt me dearly too. He took my heart!” A snarl came into my voice and she shrank again, but I held her fast. “He is unworthy of life…surely you see this?” Shaking slightly beneath my thumb and fingers, she nodded.

“His name…” I hissed. “His name is Tryfan. Tryfan of the Wen. He came with the humans and took my heart…treading it beneath his feet as he took over our forest!” My voice grew louder as my speech became more impassioned. “He must be killed!” She began to nod her agreement, and I trickled a little more of my glamours through her eyes. Her nods became more fervent.

“It is well. You will help me then?” She looks puzzled at my satisfaction, but nods anyway.

“Elly has to be avenged…and then?” A touch of eagerness came into her voice.

“Then, my dearest child. Then will be the time when we crush the Fae as Tryfan crushed my heart and love…They will quail before us!” I laugh, and it is a laugh tinged with bitter happiness and the sharp delight of revenge.

“We will show them, my love. We will…” I nodded in happiness. “It is well.”

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
11th December 2005, 11:34 AM
Prom shopping is driving me NUTS...
I'm not dead. Really. *adjusts spiffy pointy black hat* *slinks back into the RPG*
"'You!' said the Caterpillar contemptuously. 'Who are you?'"

They have been walking for an age. Sleipnir was a long time ago. Favart with his conman's mind had expected the others, but the expectation has not come home. Gevaudan with his wolf's mind had not expected anything but the blackness and the bleakness and the unavoidable claustrophobia.

It comes and goes, the claustrophobia. It comes in the passages and goes in the great yawning hallways, with the ceilings that stretch away impossibly into the dark of the house. Then Gevaudan hears, or thinks that he can hear, the rumble of something slow and menacing in the distance, and sometimes he hears it much closer to hand, and the sometimes growling is becoming ever more frequent as the hallways they enter become larger and larger, and the stink of unwashed lupine comes raw and intrusive...


Like a flashfire, a lightning bolt across the brain.

Favart knows this also. How could he not? Gevaudan can tell by the excited way his colleague's nose pricks up, the tip showing yellow as they enter the chamber.

Fenrir is large and so black that he is darker than the darkness. His red eyes smoulder like coals. Favart can count every hair off his muzzle in the glow of his eyes.

Gevaudan has never seen Fenrir, and so he stares at Fenrir's eyes, which are pupilless and fierce. They might be the eyes of a true wolf, if a true wolf meant that the wolf slept not, ate not, and tired not; and this wolf, if it was a true wolf, had been tricked and chained up; and this wolf, it was angry.

You. The address is directed at Favart, who, dapper and debonair, bows till his forehead touches the grey ground. Gevaudan cowers a few paces behind Favart. I was told to kill you.

"We are all wolves here, master," says Favart, with just the right effect of toadying regret, "it would not do for a wolf to kill a wolf without proper reason; such as the humans do."

Yes. But I have also been told... you want to kill my sister, who should not be killed. She is blood of my blood. Kin of my kin. Such excuses my father lie-smith has given me.

"Have you ever seen your sister, master?" Favart keeps his gaze steady and about the same level as Fenrir's claws. "Had you known that you ever had a sister prior to this denouement?"

No. I have, however, found it generally rewarding to pay due attention to what my father says. I have drawn my own conclusions to this matter.

"Then why not leave us to our business, master? Your father need never know. We will leave no trace of our passing. And surely master is great enough that he need not do others' bidding."

You are wrong. He knows everything that happens here. He knows what is happening now.

A pause. Then:

I will let you go. But do not expect such leniency from my brothers. Nor does it do you well to underestimate my father.

Gevaudan, momentarily proud again, steps forward, baring teeth. "I ate your brother, the horse: he was easy."

Then you are a fool and an idiot. A paw slams down, nearly taking off one of Gevaudan's own; Gevaudan backs off immediately with a yelp. Go now, before I review my choices and change my mind.

They go, and they are running.

(Postscript: Hela)

Hela stares, eyes wide open, at the flame before her, which seems to Lily the same as all the other flames that had danced before it, and her forehead creases more and more. She grips the bone so hard her knuckles are white. She does the fire divination again and again and it is always the same.

It tells of a blazing tree, the marsh people, and the dark things moving underfoot; and what it says most is that the humans will be dead come the full moon.

"M-miss? It's b-bad, miss... e-everything's bad... everything's d-dangerous-"

And then a tongue of fire lashes out, and the door in the wall swings open.

12th December 2005, 10:04 PM
= Joseph Faust =

I approached Sara with a tenative air, wondering what mystical force had such power to cause her to run in wild abandon through the woodland without regard for life or limb. "Sara, what is it? What is hurting you!?"

"Darkness..." was all she said, in an eerily calm half-whisper. "Darkness..." she repeated, a growing sense of fear manifesting in the night.

"Are you alright now?" Tryfan asked meagerly, showing some care for her situation.

She shook her head no, but seemed confused, and said, "Better."

"What is this corruption inside your mind?" I asked, afraid of what her response might be. From what we knew, there was already one charmer rampant among the island, Eleiamae of the marsh.

"I don't know!" She cried angrily, though it was only to be expected. "This deep gnawing pain is wracking at my conscious, like something is trying to get inside me! To see through me..." The very thought of it had me almost petrified. Surely... what force knew we were here. The Fae, as I knew them, were benevolent, and I had no doubt to that. Eleiamae had been pushed away by Sara before, so she would be a fool to try again. Besides, she had neither rhyme nor reason for doing so.

"What could possibly do this to you?" I muttered, unsure, and knowing it was more of a rhetorical question than anything. I was surprised, then, when she gave a feeble response.

"Well I did meet a shapechanger today..." she mumbled, "a wild-haired woman with dark skin, grimy hair, and tattered linen clothes. She approached me as you, but she offered me food, berries. I cannot understand why she would would want this, and judging by her timidity, she has not the power to do so."

The apprehension was like a particularly disgusting green jello, a wobbling mess of vegetable matter and water that threatened to eclipse hope. There was something, somewhere... a force had woken, and the feeling grew only stronger that we would soon learn its meaning. Suddenly, the thought came upon me.

"Is there a river in this land?" I scarcely expected a knowledgeable response, but the statement was the same amongst the two.

"None that I have seen, but the small one in the marshes." Tryfan said, wondering the reason for my question.

"No," answered Sara shyly, obviously regretting her lack of exploration.

"Me either," I echoed, but preceded to interrogate Tryfan. "What of Eleiamae? Did she know of any?"

"The impression I got would have me assume that either she did not, or that she did not find it important."

"There could hardly be," I said with a sigh. "There are no mountains from which it could have a source."

"I sighted distant mountains further down the peninsula, near to Hela's supposed house." Tryfan voiced, curiously, likely wondering the same thing as I. Was there a river in that region? If so, was it the same malignant presence that had so kindly escorted us here?

"I have the feeling that there must be a river," I said prophetically, "and that it is probably our ticket home. I suggest we look for it. Are you feeling up to it Sara?"

"I believe so," she answered meekly.

"We ought to leave in the morning, which is actually closer than it appears, I believe. It must be at least past midnight. Anyone against sleeping in that cavern?"

"Sounds like the safest and most sensible choice, should it start to rain again," suggested Tryfan.

"Alright, agreed it is then. We will set out at dawn."

Neither of the other two answered, both contemplating, Sara visibly distraught from her previous experience. I counted their previous comments as a "yes."

What would lie beyond?


Very short post, but there will be a longer follow-up within a day or two (depending on how long it takes someone else to post).

Weasel Overlord
15th December 2005, 09:03 AM
Erk, short! *wince* I reckon everyone else's lack of posting is catching...what is it with this season??? [obvious answer...Christmas!] *jigs* YAY!

~Tryfan Wen~

We would set out at dawn. It seemed so final, so, well, unchangeable. Shaking my head slightly, I set off after Mathias and Sara, who were, all unawares, walking side-by-side so close they could almost be holding hands. They were an odd pair indeed, and yet, I had no doubt that a pair they were. There was something between them that even my newly attuned senses couldn’t pick up. Something raw, passionate and wild. Similar in fact, to the lusts that raged within me.

Oh, how they raged…my feelings seemed heightened by my time in the forest, and my dicing with madness caused by the Dryad witch. Eleiamae. Her! Oh, how I hated her now, with her yellow eyes and her glamours, working on me while I, all innocent, ran from nothing. She had taken my mind so easily. So easily…

My thoughts were broken as Mathias, realising that I had stopped walking, approached me. His footsteps were like crashing elephants’, tramping on leaves and animals alike, with no care for what lay beneath. My head snapped up as he stopped in front of me, what appeared to be a look of care on his face.

But I knew. This one was duplicitous.

Don’t trust him! My inner mind whispered at me, incessant and persistent. But I would not be swayed by my mind any more. It had failed me once, and I had resolved to stick with my instincts from then on.

And my instincts were telling me that Mathias was to be trusted. He smelled right in a way that Eleiamae had not. Despite the fact that he crushed m the forest beneath his feet, I found myself liking him.

“What’s the matter, Tryfan?” His expression radiated honest concern, but I knew not to be fooled.

“Outer appearances…they are nothing…” I whispered. Looking him directly in the eye, I raised my voice, but not so loud that Sara could hear.

“I trust you.” His eyes widened, but a smile followed.

“I am glad of that, Tryfan. Shall we continue?” He must have sensed my need to trust people. Eleiamae [my mind spat when I thought of her] had left me almost childlike…I didn’t feel quite like myself again. My powers had returned, sure, but my confidence in people had not.

But Mathias can be trusted…

17th December 2005, 09:41 PM
= Joseph Faust =

It was a gray haze that dogged her steps, Sara with her once haughty air, now distraught and far away. Tryfan had said he trusted me, how little he knew, but I could be no more glad than to know that I still had enough strength of deception yet to trick intuition.

We were all slow of foot, making fair distance and seeing no sight of Lily who we knew by Tryfan's commentary to be with Hela. We had not the faintest clue what she was doing there, and I thought of Hela with her fiery magic, and as we passed the fire lands... there was something amiss. It was almost as if they were smoldering more than usual, that is, in the areas beset by such flames. The rest was full of large stone circles and verdant grasses, all of which swayed gently in the breeze.

The air was all of suspicions and glamours. I had not been affected by Eleiamae, no, but this land, this place- it exerted a conscious force over my actions in some minuscule way that was immeasurably discomforting. I could feel the heartbeat, and I feared of it, the great pulsing monstrosity it was. The skies were jolly, only tinged slightly blue, and cloudless. The rains had dissipated entirely, leaving only the annoyance of mud and a lingering feeling of dread, and of worry for Sara.

It was growing in me largely, this fear for her, and this liking of her. It blossomed, but it also wilted from time to time, which left me strangely alone. She was a blaze in the darkness of the night, a bonfire that ate at the air, clawing its way to freedom and life! There was something in me, in man, that found safety by fire. I admired Sara for her spirit, and much as I tried, the old apathy sunk in with ferocity. I could do little more than respect her, and be slightly attracted to her. Tryfan, for all his empathic qualities (for I had seen the subtle glances when he realized just the slightest beneath my ruse), had failed to access the feelings between us properly. Besides, I told myself I was not quite sure if it was just lingering feelings of lust. I thought so, and she likely did also, but as much as I tried to tell myself- it was a different passion I had, however muted.

I could not properly guess, but I would have it that we had traveled something like ten miles, or eighteen or so kilometers. For all the wariness we had, the caution causing us to circumvent the marshes in such a drastic way that the sea was duly visible, nothing occurred in this entire period. The landscape was unchanging in its sparse forest but for the small river we were capable of jumping over, due to the point at which we crossed; we also passed the fire lands, as aforementioned. For all its lack in interest, the hours that it took to traverse this distance came and went. It was eight hours, or so, by the steady count of our footfalls and the position of the sun. To tell the truth, I could hardly tell. Suffice to say the afternoon was wearing upon us, and it was at some point, with our aching bodies and similarly aching spirits that I was the first to speak up. It was likely that I appeared to be babying Sara, thinking she could not manage, but in truth I was almost as tired as her. I spoke for myself, and the group, Tryfan who I assumed was both hungry and fatigued. He had been alert the entire time as it was, watching the woods and the marshes, and sometimes in a blissful mediation, and once in a while not even looking where he was going. He was at one with nature for brief periods of time, and this delighted him, but every now and then a small twitch would come about him. It would not know, but it was as if something unnatural had suddenly occurred.

"We ought to take a rest, or we will forcibly march ourselves into death." I sputtered, taking several deep breaths to sustain myself.

"Agreed," mumbled Tryfan, in an aloof manner.

"I believe I could use it too," answered Sara, but with some fervor, to my relief.

There was a gnawing fatigue as we finally stopped, a longing for food. From what we had survived without it, I was under the assumption that our magic was sustaining us to some degree. Still, nearly anything edible would do, as long as it sated both my thirst and my appetite. I was under the impression that the other two were thinking on much the same wavelength. We had stopped only once, and not to forage, but at the cool, clear river. It was likely to nauseate us within time, but it had been refreshing, and had tasted not unlike the pure mineral water that was about in bottles in our home world... oh how far away it had gone... so far.

"Sara, would you remember those berries if you saw them?" I asked, hopeful that she might be of some help.

"I might, I think Tryfan could help too. Maybe he could... sense what would be our best bet." She shrugged, trying to fend off her exhaustion.

"I swear," I spat with a fevered pitch, "I am going to lose my sense of taste quite soon."

"I think Sara is right," Tryfan mumbled, partially ignoring my previous comment. "My expertise may come in some handy... I suppose we'll see."

"Correct," I stated, admittingly, a little unnecessarily.

It took us some time, in which our stomachs only managed to growl more, and our palates suffered greatly with an almost foul burning. We did find the previous berries, and an interesting plant or two that Tryfan identified as suiting, all of which we divided and devoured. It was quite easy to fill ourselves, for what we had eaten (a small amount); I was not sure if that was just the quality of what Tryfan had found, or if the magic we possessed was again fulfilling some of our need. There was a pond nearby, too, and we stopped again there to drink. We talked little, which was appropriate: we were most keen on surviving, the lot of us. We had just sat down and were eating the raw tubers Tryfan had found, green and stemlike things they were with darker green centers that flowed out in an oozy sap; then, it suddenly hit me, with my sense of perception. And I caught it... just a little off the treeline, a small glimmer and a green wing.

There had been signs... the time, all of it! I had been so inert and un-noticing, and Tryfan, for his alertness, had not the hearing and sight that I possessed. I realized, with anger, that there were Fae following us. That was the only explanation for the green wing. It was little more than an expeditionary force, for certain, but it would still cause trouble.

"I think," I muttered, and leaning towards Tryfan with a pause, "that we may have company." The last half was whispered, as not to attract their attention. Tryfan nodded and we continued to munch, somewhat unperturbed. It was slightly later, and in whispered voices, that we talked again with each other.

"How many are their Mathias?" Tryfan asked, hopeful that I had seen.

"There were only three or four, roughly. From what I saw of their population, they could not afford many more. They have been following us for a time, though I do not know why, and I cannot fathom how they had remained so quiet as to draw my attention away just enough."

"Does anyone have a course of action?" Sara's comment was cloaked in silence. After a minute or so of contemplation, Tryfan began speaking.

"We ought to find them, and rid ourselves of them... in whichever way-" he was cut off abruptly, as I interrupted him.

"We can only play their game now. I am under the impression that they are not here on aggression, as they seemed benevolent. I just cannot understand why they would follow us. The queen, the leader of them, did tell me something about understanding the favor I owed her: I had intruded on their territory." Tryfan was dissatisfied with what I had said, and Sara seemed likewise unconvinced.

"But," I continued, "Tryfan could you manage to cover our trail a bit, scent and all?"

"Yes," he replied, a small look of suspicion entering his eyes as he said so.

"We will do that, maybe twist a bit, and lose them in denser woods. I can tell where they are now, and will know when we have lost them. I should be able to see an ambush coming if neither of you can, and if push comes to shove, Sara might be able to negotiate with them: am I right Sara?" She nodded only vaguely to my question, but I continued regardless.

"Good, let us go then." I stated indifferently, and it was met with a similar intonation. In a minute or two, we had gotten up and preceded off on our way.

A mile or two later, coming upon the densest forest we had seen in quite some time, and feeling a chill air, I carefully told Tryfan and Sara that we had lost them.

"Are you sure?" Sara whispered, worried of the Fae's intentions still, myself having the confidence that they were not evil.

"Yes, now what are we to do?" The reason for my inquiry, simply, was that the sun was beginning to set beyond the trees and the woodland at our head was looking increasingly unknown.

They both waited, not sure what the question was pertaining to. "Are we to camp or continue? We cannot go much farther, I shan't think. We moved a ridiculous distance on foot today. We are going to be sore if we do not take a break, and most of the things that live in the night probably have an advantage over the majority of our group." I hated the ask the question, and wished for more hours in the day, and the ability to accrue less tiredness. Still, neither immediately answered me. Despite the ugliness of either choice, or maybe because of it, they did not answer immediately.


Weasel Overlord
4th January 2006, 05:36 AM
~Tryfan Wen~
…something wicked this way comes/a communal with an Alder of an ancient and prophetic nature...

The Fae had pursued us for some distance, and I had used all of my considerable talents in tracking to cover our footpads. However, they seemed to be above my magics, and still they came, until, dog-weary, we paused a while to consider our coming actions. Were we to search for a place to retire for the night? Or were we to continuer plunging through the unknown forest, in the dark no less, with only my own eyes guiding us, and my own senses to alert us.

No, this adventure should be one for the daylight, and I spoke up in favour of camping, And besides, we had travelled hard all day, barely pausing for rest. I didn’t think that the two could go on for much longer. Myself, I was not worried for. I had the forest to sustain me, and even now, I felt the rustling if the trees in the darkening wind fill me with energy. I felt as if I could walk on throughout the night, and the next day too, but sensibility took over and I took in the state of my companions.

“We should rest. We all need sleep, and we will do no good on the morrow if we are too tired to move. Shall I find us a haven?” Sara looked relieved at the suggestion, but this was soon removed for a look of decisiveness.

“I think it would be a good idea. Preferably a cave, or somewhere dry. If it rains like it did earlier, then we have no chance of resting.” I nodded at her sensibility and scurried off into the night to commune with a tree. I had spotted an aged Alder as we rushed by and it was sure to know the land hereabouts, as all the creatures of this forest seemed to do.

Approaching the tree softly on velvet feet, I held out my hands in a peaceful gesture, my spear slung over my shoulder by its leather strap, posing no threat. A slight wind blew through the leaves and I took it as a signal to continue. Hands outstretched, I placed my palms on the smooth bark and my forehead across my knuckles.

Breathing in and out with the movement of the wind, I sensed that the great tree was worried. It showed in the slight drooping of the branches.

“What is it that troubles you, old one?” I murmured, nor expecting a vocal reply, but to my surprise, a creaking came from within and the branches stressed about my hair, twisting around it and lifting my head until my eyes gazed directly into a gnarled bole. This tree clearly wanted to talk, so I opened my mind and let it inside.

A sudden sensation of age filled me and I gasped. Dust. Fire. Growth. A series of images flashed before my mind’s eye, faster and quicker, blurring at the edges. This Alder was very worried. Something stirred beneath the land. Something old and dangerous.

Wrenching my hands away, I tried desperately to escape what it was showing me, but the supple branches only grasped harder, and a final bright image flashed into my mind.

South. Rushing water. A cave nearby…

That is where we should be. The thought was clear as a still pond. I had found our resting place, and it was marked by an Alder sapling. Kin of the very tree I was communing with. We were to speak with the sapling, which would allow us access into the cave. It was a guardian, despite its youth, and feelings of pride emanated from my tree. The guardian would sway aside and we would rest in the cave. Away from the dangers that passed.

But I doubted that a single Alder sapling could stay the storm I had seen in the tree’s thoughts.

“This is bigger than us…It will devour us. And you…and anything that lays in its path.” A hint of terror crept into my voice and the tree released me swiftly in a motion that threw me to the ground.

-You must not mention this…They must not know.-

I nodded and scrambled to my feet. I had found us a resting place that would prove to be more than a haven if the trees premonitions came true.

4th January 2006, 09:31 PM
= Oiyg =

Elly had told me most carefully, for that was her- Elly was careful- that I was to find him. She mentioned his name several times, the despicable Tryfan that had crushed her heart she said! Crushed it and stole it away he had! How could I not want to help Elly, who was so kind and so fair, willing to help me against the trickster Fae and their cruel mistress...? I would meet this Tryfan, and I would beat this Tryfan. It was my duty to make her proud, so it was, and it was so that I immediately began making myself as hard and cold as she was.

I moved fast, she had so admired, whispering little praises she thought I could not hear... "my little sneak," she had said, "my loyal shifter," she had spoken. I was glad that I was already making Elly proud, and that when she had given me a lesson in the proper breathing techniques... for she said it was a most important basic of magic that you knew when to breathe, to keep at flow with your inner power... she had responded, telling me I had done well! It was hardly a favor even when she asked me to discover his hiding spot afterward, no hardly a favor. Her lacey speech had said it, and I had heard it, and I intended to follow it. I could need little more than to be like Elly... to think like her and to be grateful to her. Already I felt more of my magics surfacing, and the debt only grew as I came to understand just more of my "talents."

I grew to admire Elly who I was obliged to learn again and again, was named Eleiamae... "Ell-eye-a-may!" She had intoned it with a stomp, and the slap of hand to forehead, for she said with digress, she hated to be called "Elly!" It was not mine to know or understand, but I thought it might make her feel a little weaker, and though I knew she disliked it to some degree, I hardly thought this small amount of anger was worth losing such a pretty name. Elly sounded so much better than that hideous Eleiamae, surely? So I called her Elly, and I was coming to know her as Elly, and it seemed that she would be forever dubbed with the humble title- "Elly."

Before I had left she had warned me, sure as she could, and as much as she was able, that Tryfan was not to be trifled with per se. "He is wicked, and a rogue, not the debonair sort!" She had told me with a scream, which she quite entirely missed herself. "You must be careful," she had warned, "to not be near the trees when you change." Quietly she had told me, a good big switch from the norm of her moaning and groaning yell. "He understands the speech of plants," she cautioned, and I could do little to suppress my own chortle.

"He talks to his plants?" I asked while laughing as I thought was expected at such a ridiculous comment.

"Yes!" She added it hastily, and with such a manner of seriousness, that I could scarcely stop myself from going red in the face from stifling what was a gigantic prod to my funny bone.

"Does that help them grr-row?" I chuckled again, and I scarcely noticed, even by the contorted look of her features, that she found it less amusing. When she had continuously pushed this fact into me, and I had only been able to grant it my own laughter, she finally decided that simply making me change inside the cave was a necessary endeavor and one that would assure my disguise held.

I was careful to keep my guise, to breathe properly, recalling it perfectly; she asked me who was best to sneak to Tryfan, maybe a test, maybe truly asking me my opinion. I told her I had seen another human girl who I did not know as well as Sara, and she liked the idea. Elly made sure, however, that I understood that I could not be afeer'd at all if they asked me strange questions if they saw me. I thought about it, and how Sara's sight through my guise had worn on my senses, causing me to flee. I knew this would be necessary, so I shook her hand with gusto, and promised her with another sentence involving the use of the dread "Elly."

I was quick, we had agreed, and so it was done; it took me little time to pass the marshes, and the river, and the sparse forests before reaching the woods so dense; their tracks up to this point were hardly invisible for a good while, trodden in soft dirt and mud by the rains (oh the mud that soaked into my feet and the cracks in my toes!) but they stopped almost abruptly after a point. "Tryfan," I muttered with vindictiveness, with which I mused quietly to myself, would make the contemptible Elly satisfied. For how else? The nature man he was, the heart stealer and the path breaker, the tree talker... none of the others had quite the skill to cover tracks in these woods surely, not in woods so close to Elly, for how could Elly miss them? No one was better than her at navigating the marshes, with their bogs and their mud and their strange log creatures that swam and floated both.

When I reached this point in the path I made way still, much slower, at such a rate that it was worse than midnight gloom, darkness all around, before I was allowed a break: this break, of course, was not so poor Oiyg could stop, but so I could push onward! A break in the case of the missing Tryfan, the clever bastard, and the keeper of broken love! It was this offense that I must requite for Elly, I must, and so I thanked all of the deceivers and knaves and imposters and dodgers and swindlers for the happenstance and chance to make my master mistress glad of me.

I came across all three of them, as it was, with a stumble and a jerk and a snap of leaves that woke all their senses; it was so loud to them, and I cursed myself, so loud to them that even the fatigue of the girl, Sara, could not halt the concerned jerk of her head in my direction.

"Over in the woods there," pointed the Mathias boy, who I thought to be assisting Sara, and I had to stop myself from hiding away in a little hidey-hole. They had seen me! It was too late for sure! I must instead... act like... this girl- Lily.

"Hello!" I yelled, cheerily, merrily, sure that Lily was similar in disposition; or, I hoped so dearly- oh, how I hoped. I prayed again to the charlatans and the humbugs that I might have just a little more luck. A pinch more? A grain? Was it too much to ask? Maybe just a little? Please?

My wish was granted, but I could have asked for a little more on the one giving the response. I calmed myself, and only listened with a turned ear and a visible smile when Tryfan the diabolical beckoned to me with his hand. "Come Lily! We were just seeking shelter! How is Hela, and how are you? You ought to get out of the night," he cut off as I trotted closer with the enthusiasm I thought a human girl like myself like have, and once reaching him, listened as he finished, "as there are probably beasts about." My irises flashed a suggestive wine yellow in a way that would make Eleiamae blush.


Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
7th January 2006, 12:54 PM
N/B: Post may be annoying due to storytelling format


Before she goes through the door she gives Lily a flint and a few words. She tells her of the danger at the full moon in halting breaths.

She says: "I-if I don't come b-back, i-if you need help - kindle a fire, and m-maybe I can come, I don't know if you have the fire-talent, I, I -" A biting of the lip, the slip of her dead feet into the grey passageway -

The door in the wall slams shut.

"The brothers pull together at the request of the father,
Little sister's story comes to an end."

but I live only for you. and I believe only in you.

Perhaps you have never heard of a girl named Hela. Maybe she should not be termed a girl, as she was really a fire spirit, and later something else; but for convenience and story purposes she will be classified as one. Her principal occupation was trailing after her father, and in his absence, looking for him. Her legs were sewn on by degrees, as the original ones had fallen off at her birth, and altogether she was not very pretty at all, but rather pitiful and worrisome.

One day as this girl, Hela, was thinking of her father, who had been gone a long time, she made a fire in their house, and she put his dagger in it, and suddenly a beautiful map opened up in the embers, and so she knew where to find him. She had to go through the maze, or labyrinth, in their house, which was a magic house, and the fire, made into a compass, would guide her.

Inside the door, she walked for a time through the terrible darkness, and she was frightened; but she pressed on at the thought of her father. Eventually she came to a dead end, a smallish deadly corner. She might have cried, but she didn't; and she just sat down on the ashy floor, and when she turned about she met a horse.

The horse had eight legs, and a thunderbolt marking, and it could speak. Listen to its scratchy-lightning voice:

Little sister, be not afraid.
I am your brother, the Thunder Horse Sleipnir,
Sent by our father to take you upon my back
Crossing through the chaos-maze.

So she did, and they flew through space as though there was no dead end, and the divine wind (where did it come from?) beat the horse's mane into her face. Soon enough they arrived at another hall, which was vast and lighted by a single flame in the middle, which was the remnant of the fire-compass. There Sleipnir let down his charge. "I must leave you here," it said. "My master is looking for me." "Thank you," said Hela, "but where do I go now?" "Follow the fire," said Sleipnir. "You may meet with another of us, if you are lucky it will not be Fenrir." "Who is Fenrir?" asked Hela, but the thunder horse was gone.

She walked through the hall, that led to more mazes, and we shall say no more of how long she had to twist and turn, follow and rebound. Eventually she came to a corner, an awfully suspicious corner. Dank yellow fog wrapped itself around her so that she coughed. And round the corner was

A big black wolf, dark and fearsome
Red eyes that glow like coals.
Towering to the ceiling that could not contain him,
With breath like yellow fog that clings and saddens spirits.

Hela, being most afraid of wolves, clung to the damp walls like noodles might cling to the bottom of the pot if you don't stir them, and trembled as best as she knew how. The wolf opened its large jaws wide and snarled, "Little sister, come hither into my mouth so that you may reach our father ever the quicker." "I-I daren't, brother, I am frightened of your sharp teeth." "Close your eyes and walk forward, then." "My eyes are already closed, brother." "Come forward, then."

With her eyes closed she walked into the gullet of the wolf Fenrir, and the soles of her dead feet made their way over the jagged teeth, the lolling tongue, and then Fenrir shut his mouth with a snap. Inside his mouth Hela felt as if she was walking through a tunnel longer and darker than the ashen warrens of the house. There was only one direction she could go in at any one time. Eventually the darkness thinned a little, and she began to note that she was reentering the terrain of the house. As her fingers brushed the walls they were stickier than ever, and smelled odd, and she began, again, to be afraid. At the end of the tunnel something beneath her feet pushed her up, and out, and then she saw it was an

Enormous snake, tail in mouth
Neverending circle that holds up the world,
Intelligent eyes with slit pupils, and
A forked tongue that served to prop her out, a lisp.

"Hail, my sister," said the splendid snake. "I am your brother Jormungand the Serpent: and now I would advise you to hurry on, and follow that flame from the lodestone until you come to the twins." Hela was trembling so much, she could not say anything but a muffled thanks, and ran away into the darkness.

Eventually she came to a circular clearing, which was really a pit that stretched away at the bottom into nothing. Beside her the flame settled down in a clump of rubbery innards. Hela would have screamed, if she did not know better; but she had seen worse things than the dead insides of creatures, and reasoned inside that dead insides of creatures were much friendlier than living insides of creatures, in that they could not possibly hurt her.

The innards said, "Hail, our sister, we are all that remains of your brothers Ali and Narvi. Of yore we made bindings for our father, but now you must use us to cross the dread pit. Throw us across, sister."

With trembling hands Hela caught hold of one end, for the innards were all tied and trussed up into a long rope-like form, and threw the other end over the pit, where it caught something and came taut at her hand. "Walk across us, sister," said the innards. "Don't be afraid." Hela balanced herself precariously on the rope, and as she took step by careful step someone was pulling her in, closer and closer to the other bank.

She fell off the rope into the lap of someone too familiar not to be recognised, and it was indeed her father. Hela was happy beyond measure, and it felt like her soul had returned to her once again after a long time. Her father gave her his fondly hug and his devil-may-care smile with the lips that were scarred with the marks of an awl, and said over his shoulder to a black shape, very charred and oily-like in its mien: "You know what it is that I mean to do, Freki; tattle to your master, if you must. Also, remove Geri from my domains." It wrinkled its black nose in a toadying manner, and withdrew.

"Now Hela," said her father, "we are going on a journey." "Where to?" she asked. "Far, far away, away from this world... do you mind?" "No, father, as long as I am with you, it will be alright." "Very good." A door opened in the wall, and they went through it, and neither of them, hide nor hair, were ever seen again in the world of the river, at least not in the physical sense.

Where they went is another story best told in other settings.

The fire went out with a rasp in the large living room of the house, and Lily clutched the flint ever harder.
Uh... yeah... was reading way too many chinese classics... Hela's story is finished; next post will clear up the Loki/Odin loophole, and describe the state that the house is left in, as well as Lily. And my brain is officially dead for the week.
*Gevaudan = Geri, Favart = Freki

Weasel Overlord
9th January 2006, 07:06 AM
So what if I'm neglecting Tryf...not the point...*mumble*

Oh no! No more Hela?!? What's gonna haappen noow?!? *rocks*

…madness and love, one and the same?…

My little puppet had become very good at transforming in her days as my apprentice. She was even becoming tolerable to me, which I found myself surprised at.

Since when had I tolerated anyone? Especially not young whipper-snappers who persisted in calling me Elly. The very sound of the name made me hiss and spit at the ground in her absence. For when she haunted my lair, I was forced to be sweet old Elly, all smiles and teachingly warm. It grated on my very soul. And the jigging! Oh, the jigging. My jolly little dances were all that held her trust at points, and so I am forced to continue with the jigging, for in my heart, I do not think that she trusts me wholly. Not yet.

But now. Now, she is implementing the first part of my plan. Tryfan. Well, he was nothing to me (or is he?). NO! I am stone to him…I am…

He will not seduce me…that is my job…I am the seducer, not to be seduced. To be tricked into love is to show weakness…

Surely that means Tryfan is strong…he was not tricked…

The voices in my mind grow more persistent as the days go onward. My love for him will not leave me…and I realise, it is love that drives me so.

“But I am STONE!” I scream, in the loneliness of my cave, a’waiting for Oiyg’s return.

17th January 2006, 09:08 PM
Oh my... I haven't posted for this long? Lordy.

= Joseph Faust =

We found the cave Tryfan suggested with little difficulty. With a simple manner of speaking, he managed to beseech the sapling guardian at its mouth to move to the side. The two of them shared a strange similarity... as if they knew something. I hadn't an idea what it was, and I hardly desired to know. They trials of the last several days had been more than enough.

Lily, admittedly, had giggled profusely when Tryfan had talked to the tree; he had pretended to keep himself upright, tall and manly, but I saw red come to his cheeks. She couldn't quite explain it, just as she had difficulty explaining what had happened at Hela's home. She merely voiced something similar to "Hela merely wanted to be alone. I needed to catch up to all of you, too!" She was lively, cheerful, and light-hearted through it all; even when it began to drizzle briefly again, she merely guffawed at the rains, and danced. It was lifting to have such an optimist with us, and I thought I saw Sara's eyes flash with a bit of spirit again during Lily's escapades. It was still a little awkward to have her with us again, but there were few qualms about it amongst the group; I believed this strange feeling to be nothing more than a product of her leaving our presence for a time.

The cave was not uncomfortable, to say the very least of it. The floors were smooth and polished, unlike any natural cavern I had previously witnessed. It was almost entirely circular, a wonder of erosion and the formation of rock, with a small pool (no more than five paces in diameter) at its center. I must say this particular source of water made it difficult to start a fire, and so we huddled in the larger back end of the cave, which was more or less convenient.

I could hear strange trickling sounds in the walls the whole of the time, I imagined some larger force of water- possibly an underground stream. We were now on the edge of the mountains, as this cave was.

They were not towering, as they had seemed, but were actually relatively short. Climbing them would not be profusely difficult, and it was likely that it would not be hard to find a pass that was neither cool nor rough in demeanor. Our quest, though we were still not entirely sure where it was we were going, seemed to be coming more and more to fruition. I could only muse that this water must be connected, somehow, to the ancient river, the one that might send us home. That was what I told myself, and as the four of us sat around a meek fire (for it was quite warm), we muttered a few scattered comments about home; we had a new appreciation for it, truly, the land from which we had come, but I had my doubts. My face, and the edges of my consciousness assured me that I did want to go home. My subconscious, however, and the confines of my thoughts doubted this proposition. They doubted, also, that I was even to survive here. There was a deep-seated cynicism there, but there was also something much darker. A secret, I feared with each moment, might bring itself into being. Then no longer would I be just a deceiver to them, just a reserved but still kind man, but rather... It was not a sound idea to dwell on it, I finally decided.

Lily was more reclusive than she had been after our initial talk, and she seemed to like her time out of the limelight (more than surprisingly). We were not at all abashed, however, to allow her to revel in a little shyness. We had no doubt that she would be back again in full swing. It was only a matter of time.

Time was wearing away this day, too. Night had come again, and we were all less than restless; we hadn't the sense to immediately think to assign watches, but Lily merrily volunteered. I told her to wake me when she finished. We all rested, ungracefully, in a pile of clothes and lichen. Lily sat quietly on a rock, pretending not to be uncomfortable, and this sight was enough to allow me to float lazily into the dream world.


It dripped keenly down my hands, and pattered quietly onto the dirt. I stared aghast at it, and quailed in fear. "Keep calm, cool..." I muttered in my head. It was far from the time, and the insides of my head could only scream in utter terror. What had I done!? My freedom was surely gone now. What had I done!? What had I done!?


Cold sweat, tingling across my back and chest. Musk flitted to my nostrils and I cringed in the heat of my dreams; it was only a dream... or was it a memory? I had suppressed my inner emotions with such purpose that I scarcely knew. I could only sit, and shake, and watch the crackling fire. Lily saw none of my pain, and I was glad that I had not feigned hellish surprise in my sleep. Dreams... they let us escape to a world all our own- the world inside my mind was not one I cherished. They only served to expose us, and I would have none of it. It was not with immodesty or without true passion that I told myself that I would never allow myself to see into that world again. Never. For if I looked too far, I would tumble into the pit, and as the echo of my scream rang out in the gloom- I looked at my companions- they would know.

Lily rose from her seat, and I distracted my disheartened mind with her movements. She walked carefully and deliberately towards the pool, and there should stood and gazed into the pool. For a moment, I swore that from my position at the side of her I could see the reflection of a woman with gray skin and mudded white locks. Then it disappeared, and Lily frowned with impunity. I discarded the image immediately. It was only a hallucination from beyond, likely, some ruse made by angles and light.

I waited for some time longer, not falling asleep until Lily gently tapped my shoulder, seeing I was awake with surprise. "Well, hello silly," she muttered. She leaned against one of the cavern walls, with her eyes trained towards Tryfan's sleeping form, and closed her lids gently.


Drip… drip… my countenance was eerily panicked as my eyelids fluttered open again. I realized that I had fallen asleep, tragically, during my assigned watch. I cursed myself gently, and suddenly realized that I had little to fear. What was it about this night, suddenly that had me so jilted? And then I looked at the pool, and the insides of my stomach did a somersault. I watched a single drop coalesce upon its side, and furthermore, go tumbling an incomprehensible distance downward and strike what sounded like rock with a gentle drip. I marveled, and I drew back, before bolting to standing position. Then I saw it for its true form.

It was a set of aquan stairs, so elegant and so well formed that my eyes glazed over with sadness towards their watery beauty; I was almost sickened by the solid surface, which was not ice, but rather water in such a magical form that it held itself up without the aid of any science. I eyed it with no suspicion, for it had me utterly dumbstruck. The staircase led a steep path downward into where the pool had been, into a pit, and suddenly the rushing of an underground stream came to my ears. It was a gentle flow, archaic in rhythm, but I was ensorcelled. Each beat of its current I felt, and each beat of my heart was felt by it. It was wondrous, and my heart was a flutter with the surreal quality of it all. And then I saw it, and I quivered with fright.

A shadowed form moved up the steps in the slowest motion, fluid like the water it traversed, and shadowed. The cave was dark, and a single ray was all that fell on the pool. This moonlight illuminated it in gorgeous details, but the steps below were all but uncharacteristic in the light. The movements of the figure were lithe and seductive, almost, even of this night crawling beast. It was humanoid in shape, but that was all that there was to say of it. There was a quality of its step, that light and happy smashing motion that pressed my mind into cogs which crushed it with alacrity; it was utterly wrong and I felt nauseated by the power in those limbs.

It was a long staircase, and though little time had passed, it felt like a singular century by the time I could bring my trembling, chapped lips to make out several syllables. “Who comes?”

There was no answer, but I could have sworn the shadow creature’s “face” curled into what looked like a wicked smirk. All the color was torn out of my face in that moment, like it had been ripped from it by a savage animal, steel incisors clamping down upon my skull and crushing it. I could have warned the others, but I knew doing so would only anger it. I could have tried to do so without speaking, but I knew this humanoid, she, as it became suddenly apparent to me, would not have it and would notice this movement immediately. I felt like her mind contained my mind, and I had not even heard her speak. It felt as if for every action I had considered, every strategy I could think of… she had thought of it, and tossed it away with the finesse of an acrobat, and only the slightest of wrist movements. She exuded such glorious sadism that my deeds, as hideous as they were in civilized society, seemed like nothing this black lady could have done.

Each second passed with suspense, and I both rejoiced and was disgusted in the time that it took for her to mount the stairs and reach the position where she was clearly visible. I longed for it, to see her, but I also knew that in that walk was death.

And then it happened, and my body was seized and clamped, and torn into by a steel vice grip of metal vivacity. My expression was utterly vapid, and the fan I had readied subconsciously fell from my hand and clattered loudly on the floor of the cavern. I regained myself, but the effect was done, and though I would hardly bow to it, this was the true iron maiden.

All the parts of her being were layered with the subtlety of an icy lance plunged into the stomach of some unlucky soldier. Her obsidian, slate, hair flowed like icicles from the crown of her head, for she was royalty. Her eyes were dark blue, that furled and unfurled like a sea, relentless, and a river of pain drilled into my consciousness. Looking at her was an effort, and I felt the need to turn away for reasons I could not rightly fathom. She dwarfed me, even, and was no less than six feet in height, with all the towering magnitude of a giantess. She was lithe and so fair it burned my pale skin, white as the maggots that crawled about carrion, and just as maddening. She was the utter impression of a lady, and was beyond it, a queen of such fine nature that the room itself seemed to fall away to make space for her. Her wrists looked like the flick of them could kill a man, but she past this telltale sign she seemed almost frail; it was duly hidden just how easily she could wring your neck. She was bold, as her face was, with ears that accentuated the mark of an elf of some sort; they were not dramatically pointed, but it was there, and it only further increased the mythical aura about her person. She smiled with all the draw of a shark, biting into your skin with those incisors, slightly pointed, so keenly white that the embroidery of the same color about her robes looked yellow. It was a face, so flawless and unmarred that it seemed she was perpetually impossible to injure in some normal way. The black robes that covered her left quite little to the imagination as they were so form-fitting, a form with voluptuous curves and her feet were shod in the oddest white leather sandals. There was a lustrous pearl embedded in her forehead, I noticed as her hair was swept away, and then the true meaning of her countenance hit me. The expression was so effortlessly grim, and the very malice of a thunderhead covered the whole of her person. She bore into me with those fiendish blue eyes, my own stare locked and I felt my resistance shatter, and her hand began to raise skyward, and then fall. She then threw her arms to the heavens, and yelled with glee, shouting there and to the ground in a voice amplified and mechanical at the same time. The power of what seemed Satan breathed behind each syllable, as she screamed in the beautiful pitch of a water nymph. And then I realized that it was not words, but a glorious cackle, and then her features fell and settled on the awakening group. She manipulated the waters of the stairs, and they disappeared, and then danced about her in concentric circles. She threw her hands out, and the very force of a wall of water bound all of us to the cave wall.

She did not pause to speak, but merely began to choke us with each of the movements of her wrist. I began to drown as water poured into my lungs, and I saw the others in a similar situation. Though we managed to fall somewhat down the wall, and wriggle to a point where an actual battle was likely, she did not maintain her concentration long enough for us to get into a battle stance. She merely wheezed suddenly, choked, and I could not help but revel in it, to see her harmed; she pointed a single finger at Lily, and I knew not of her reasons, and uttered contemptibly with a cough, “The marshes will boil! The waters will churn!” Then, speaking to all of us at once, she articulated in a soft tone. “Death will come swiftly to all of you, for you may never escape when I am near; I am the universal conduit. Heed my warning, for it was never meant to be given.” She spluttered, and the pool gathered again as the power of her waters dropped. She gave one last leer, so wicked that I cringed in it, and then dissolved into the water with a splash.

The only thought that could run through my mind was thus: it was she. They had told me, the Fae. I now knew.

Zhila. She… is.

And then I realized... if she was the river, could we still go home? My last hope died.


Weasel Overlord
19th January 2006, 09:20 AM
Hee hee, Jobie, you're becoming me!! Lordy indeed! Anyhow, you asked for surreal, and here it is! ^^ *jazz hands* I hope it's satisfactory...

…and the marshes boiled with the wrath of the River God…

[COLOR=darkgreen]Crawling out of my cave, I glared at the sunlight as if daring it to shine ever-brighter. The day was disproportionate to my anguish, and I was furious about it, stalking my home, my marshes, with more fervour then usual.

Glaring once more at the sky, my eyes squinted for a better view; I caught sight of clouds, swirling about the golden orb. The clouds…

The clouds were an ominous purple colour, and they didn’t so much swirl, as loom over the horizon, seeming to mock my very presence.

Spitting up at them, I continued my trek. I wasn’t about to be deterred by some angry weather, in fact, I loved rain, and hoped for some to fall now.

Maybe it can cleanse me of my anguish…my pain…

Shaking my head, I pattered along memorised routes. Routes that were etched into my mind, into my very consciousness I had trodden them so many times. My mind raced as I walked, not thinking about where I was going, just letting my feet lead.

There was something about this very day that seemed…well, wrong, somehow. I could not put my finger upon the reason for my feeling this way, but something was wrong. Dead wrong. And it was beginning to unnerve me.

And it must have felt wrong, for me to be unnerved, Eleiamae, the Mistress of the Marshes, Seducer of Men. I was old as time, or at least, time in this world, and nothing frightened me.

Or at least, nothing frightened me until Tryfan came into my life. Now, I was afraid of my own feelings, keeping them locked away, deep in the back of my mind they cowered, afraid to come out for fear of what would happen. Shaking my head to expel such dangerous thoughts, I continued my trek through my lands as the clouds moved and shifted overhead, growing ever closer and almost beginning to obliterate the sun from sight.

I was glad of that, the sun’s bright glow was enough to make me spit in my wallowing. It almost seemed to want to cheer me up, with the yellow and the warmth! Pah! I wasn’t having any of that. I would wallow in my misery for as long as I pleased, for I am my own mistress (and Tryfan’s)…

Howling my defiance at my own thoughts, I fell to the moist ground in despair. I would never be free of him! Oh, how I wished for redemption, for my old self-control to return and grant me even a little dignity.

But it was not to be, and I grabbed at my hair and beat the ground like a widow in her mourning.

Exhausted, I slumped down, my hair torn and eyes dull, as I caught sight of my reflection in the muddy waters.

Lifting my hand, I dabbled a slender finger in the water, causing it to ripple and the mud to rise to the surface, disturbed. Pushing a fragment of dirt around the small pool, I sighed and propped myself up on one elbow to peer into the waters.

Lifting my finger again, I gave the water a single prod, and it became as clear as a bell, obeying my command. Images flashed within the pool; a cave guarded by an Alder of the old clan. Oiyg, parodying Lily’s behaviour as I had taught her to. I smiled at this; she had gotten so good in such a small amount of time. Despite our little spats, she was the closest I had felt to any creature, and I had begun to enjoy her company a little, though I was always careful not to inform her of this.

My elbow grew weary, and I switched over, allowing my eyes to flash once to the skies again before coming to rest on the waters.

Gasping, I stared, open-mouthed, back at the sky.

It had grown dark. But this darkness was not of the normal variety. For one thing, it was day, it should not have been dark yet. And for the second, the darkness had a terrifying quality to it that made me shudder.

There was a hint of evil in that sky, nay, more than a hint. A good helping, disguised in the colour of hellish orange and looming purple. It was like a livid bruise, and, though I was fascinated, I found myself not being able to look at it any longer. My eyes were drawn, inexplicably away, to anywhere but that horrendous sky streaked with red.

The earth tones of my marshes were a truly welcome sight after that sky, and I tried to keep my gaze down.

Much to my horror, the trees parted in a whisper of a breeze, allowing the light to beam down and into my little pool. The nightmarish colours streaking the previously blue sky were reflected in my pool, once again drawing my eyes in a sick fascination.

Gazing deep into the pool, I realised that there was a tear in the skies. This tear was the colour of nothing. It was like a black void that called to me, luring me into it and into eternity.

Shaking my head vigorously, I gathered my senses and glanced away from the water, at the trees, anywhere!

But even the trees were behaving unnaturally. My ears being attuned to the sounds of nature, I managed to pick up their twisted shrieks of pain as the wind whipped them from side to side. The very plants wept; those stoic trees I had known for most of my life showed the most torturous anguish at what that hellish wind was doing to them.

Tears poured down my cheeks in sympathy for their plight, but I could do nothing. My limbs appeared to be frozen to the ground, unable to obey the simplest of my commands.

Once again, my eyes were drawn to the pool of water that was no longer a scrying haven for me, but a nightmare of colour.

The waters, seemingly stirred by that ghastly wind, began to bubble and ripple. The ripples were small at first, but they soon grew and spread through the water until it almost leapt out of the hollow in which it lay.

And the worst thing was, it retained the colours of the sky as it jerked from the ground, forming perverse and deviant shapes before falling with a splash.

And my eyes were still drawn; I could not wrench them away from the horror that lay before me. Immobilised, I knelt in the mud, sickeningly fascinated, as the water leapt and dived before my eyes.

It seemed to be growing closer, ever closer, and like a weasel dancing before a rabbit, I was enraptured as it crawled over my legs, up my legs, across my torso and up my chin.

Clamping my mouth tight, I closed my eyes, finally able to move at least a little. Just before my vision was obscured, I saw that all the waters in my home were acting in the same fashion as this tiny puddle, trapping tiny creatures in their hypnotic movements before crawling over their bodies with an almost delighted malevolence.

My own marshes turned against me. That was my last thought, as the waters swam down my throat and flushed into my lungs and stomach. Trying desperately to cough, I caught sight of my hand.

It was greying.

Like a disease, grey crept up my limbs, obscuring the flesh beneath as it solidified, encasing me in what appeared to be stone.

My face and mind were the last to go, and the sick terror overcame me as the grey filled my mouth and throat, causing a wave of blackness to wash over me.

My last awakening thought was a revelation…

…I love him…

30th January 2006, 10:48 PM
I'm not getting any better at my inactivity, for which I apologize to the both of you that are still active (Kirsten and Yi-wen). This is not yet dead; if it gets worse, expect a quick plot twist to use as a reason to cap this one off and start a sequel instead. Otherwise, I have absolutely no qualms against progressing with only us three, and whomever comes back.

= Joseph Faust =

"What in the hells was that?" Tryfan asked it frantically, fear and the frustration of being almost entirely inept against our most recent threat. I had to admit that the feelings rushing through my mind were not any less fierce, or straining, or frantic.

"The Fae," I breathed with force, water dribbling down my lips from our encounter, "know her." I wheezed violently as a bit of grimy water was expelled, tinted in the slightest red.

"How? What does this mean?" Tryfan asked, accompanied by an equal glance from Sara, expecting an answer of sorts.

I was fretful. I could not give them any answer that would be satisfying. "All I know is that they called her zhila; they may have even revered her in a way. Beyond this, I know nothing." I paused momentarily, and then turned to Lily, and asked her as a relief for the others. "What do you recommend we do Lily?"

She tugged at the hem of her shirt in a way that reminded me of Hela, striking me with the thought of where the fire child had disappeared to. She had the same sort of greasy feel about her, Lily did; had Hela rubbed off on her? She proceeded to respond, however hesitantly, "She came through the water..." It was all she could say, and in only a whisper. Had this threat shattered her enthusiasm so much? And then I realized... I was shivering, and not just from being drenched. It had crushed my own faith also.

I collapsed gently to my knees, grimacing slightly as the bruises met with hewn stone. "I have no plans." I told them all this, with some regret, and Sara frowned slightly.

To all of our luck, for it seemed we were growing closer as a team, Tryfan suggested, "The water, yes!" I eyed him warily at this revelation, fighting for all the will in me to suppress what I could so easily let slip to the surface in this moment of anxiety.

They must not know, yes, there was strategy coming to me. I had a feeling of dread, and the voice inside me asked, "Oh, back to your old ways so soon, Joseph? Letting yourself be exactly the bastard you've become, you are." The voice made the most of mechanical nicety, pronouncing perfectly on each syllable, and for all I could hear depicting my thoughts to a tee. I could feel that old hatred rising in me, and I fought back the words. The voice stated simply, "It gave you power." I cringed.

"Jo-" Sara stumbled and then managed to trip herself in midsentence, concealing her last syllable in a liquid-hampered splutter. "Mathias? Are you alright?" I snapped out of my reverie, and noticed that I was drenched further. I had been sweating, and my head was pressed to the chilled rock. I made attempt to recover, and said, "Just these wounds. I will be alright."

I saw with my peripheral vision that Tryfan would have none of these "wounds." He saw something in me, he could feel my weakness like he could feel the stones beneath us and the vines crawling stealthily. Never before I had met Tryfan had I considered the question, "When a tree kills in a forest, does it make a sound?" Now that question came to me like cold ice water gnashing over my teeth, frigid were my bones and my body. I was, in all respects, entirely spent; I could not stay weak like this. The worst case scenario would come to fruition if I fell to weakness- this watery enchantress- was it inevitable? And I knew it then, just as father time might know when the hourglass will stop pouring, that it would come. The day would arrive when they would know. I clenched my teeth at the thought.

"As I was saying," Tryfan said, with an honest sweetness and compassion for all of our condition, "we must avoid 'water' as if it were the plague. It is obviously part of her power." His words came to me with a broiling nausea, and I stood, swaying. I realized again that tone in his voice, and that look of pity in Sara's eyes, and that... charity... and I could scarcely suppress the desire to vomit the bird's pickings that I had eaten over the course of the last several days. Just to stain that oddly smooth stone... to create a blotch of wretched puke on that surface and to defile it would make me so satisfied. All the better, to get rid of the sickness entirely, and reassume the poise that my person usually exerted. I could not stand being on the receiving end of weakness. It made my confidence in myself drop remarkably, and my will to survive push all the harder to make up for it. I was obviously frailer than I thought, and though the group had not seen how finicky I had been eating- where they had their fill I had fallen into malnourishment.

"So I was saying," Tryfan repeated with no further patience, "she seems to get her power from the waters."

"Of course she does," I snapped. "She is the River! She brought us here! When we drowned and entered this world, it was her all along? Could you see it!? Could you not see that gorgeous temper, and the glory of the waves in her eyes? She was a walking storm... an awakened beast."

Sara trotted gently across the stones, and approached with some caution. I could tell by just her step that she had all her own person back. Her mind was again full, and I was gladdened of it. The gray of my mind, however, darkened the stage so that only the faint song of the nightingale called me back to her. My senses were at the same time brightened, and I could not understand this place anymore than I could existence. Sara caressed my shoulder, and then both, with finesse enough to make a small shock of pleasure tingle through me; I allowed her to do so for a moment, before she chose a good a time as possible to draw away from me.

"I don't think she will come back this night." Tryfan said, with some doubt, but not so much that the suggestion sounded senseless.

"You're probably right," Sara added, and I nodded quietly in assent.

"We stay here then." I uttered it with such a finality, and equal banality. I moved away from the two of them towards the cave mouth, and snapped two of the branches of the unperturbed alder sapling with ease. They were brittle to my touch, as sinewy as they should have been in a growing plant. I could smell Tryfan's wince at the plant's pain from here, and the insides of my heads flared with brimstone and fire, and I felt a small and otherwise unnoticed cackle emit from my lips. There was a quality of this new and terrible world that caught my amusement, snagged it with derision, and tossed it around. I could only join in this helpless metaphorical jig. I felt it all, quite suddenly... a new foe amongst it all. I drew in the fragrance and nodded again and again, until I was so certain.

"Here we are," I stated, approaching the other three with my head down and my hair a mangled mess over my scalp; it obscured my eyes.

"You are going to start a fire?" Lily muttered it so naively then, and further uttered, "With sticks?"

I uncharacteristically tossed one branch to the side, and looked at her with a single feral eye. It glinted, so briefly, in the moonlight. I threw back my head with the same gesture that had seen the branch to strike the cave wall at my left. I guffawed with some meter to it, rhythmic in the sort of way that the gnawing of flesh is.

"Aren't I?"

"Lily would- er, I would think so," mumbled Lily.

No one had the perception enough to follow my motion as I reached for the metal warfan that had clattered to the floor some time ago, when she had been here. It was fluid movement; it was as water.

"Our group doesn't want to be cold, does it?" The question was ambiguous in the face of a hunter. For it was, suddenly, predator and prey. The chase.

"Oh, of course not..." and I flicked my wrist nimbly, sending the metal fan careening towards "Lily." She could hardly see its iron shape in the flickering brightness of the cave, nor could she sidestep quickly enough. It was not that time froze, no, not at all. It was that everyone besides myself was far too sluggish. Sara gasped at a speed that made me scoff mentally. Tryfan drew back, horrified, but I heeded not to this, nor could the fan. It was a weapon meant to hurt. And hurt it would. She would most certainly bleed, and I would strike with unerring accuracy.

"But you aren't part of the group..." Oh, no, she most certainly was not. I had been studying her, her maneuvering, and her poise, and her scent. She was just off, and I knew this was not Lily. I did not know what happened to Lily. If this "creature" was impersonating her, she could very likely be dead. The thought was sobering, but not appalling.

And I finished coolly, with an inflection that instead suggested murderous fury. "Are you?" There was a delicious and most ghastly "slice" as weapon connected with victim. As it nearly embedded in shoulder bone, but instead scraped it away with a blow boasting razor teeth. There before us stood a shifter, a gray-skinned woman with mucky hair and a mouth gaping wide in what had not yet reached anyone's ears in the silence that pervaded my reflexes. It was the precursor, this silent mouthing.

Then, time came back to itself and her savage scream echoed gruesomely off the walls of the grotto.


Oiyg is brutally injured, but only on the shoulder, and is still capable of fleeing with some difficulty. It is equally possible for her to be captured before she can return to Eleiamae, defeated, and find the stone statue that she has become.

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
11th February 2006, 04:10 AM
NB: Took control of Lily during the post... sorry to Asi if you're still around! Prepare for crap of the common or garden variety. Apologies in advance.
Hela et al.

Alright already we'll all float on okay.
Don't worry we'll all float on.
Even if things get heavy
We'll all float on alright...
- Modest Mouse

The Epilogue Post

[Testimony of a Young Woman Under House Arrest]

The house is warm. That's all that can be said about it. Otherwise... I'm not sure, but it unnerves me, those things that the little girl talked about. She said she was going to find her father inside the door. But there isn't a door. Or there isn't a door, now. She gave me a flint, with which I tried to keep the fire going, but since it went out a while ago it won't light up again, no matter how hard I try.
The River is bad; there are fairies, she said. They are fairies that kill humans. They will kill my friends, if I could rightly call them friends. That Mathias is a right shifty man; one never knows what he is thinking. Tryfan who apparently likes me. Sara with her righteous rage.
She said they would be killed by the new moon, and that I shouldn't go to find them. Easier to kill people in groups, she said. I should stay here in the house where it is safe. I am hungry but have found nothing to eat inside the house, so I will eventually have to venture out in search of food and water.
I borrowed her father's clothes, a reddish tunic and breeches - perhaps it could be rightly called stealing. Though it seems clear that the owner of the clothes, and of the house, won't be coming back again. The feeling is that of emptiness. I can find my way about with cat's eyes but my shapeshifting magic is unsuited to the area, which I assume is fire country where only flames and magic that burns are welcome. No water, the little girl said. Yet it thunderstormed a while ago, and is still drizzling now. An end to the supremacy of fire.
The River is reclaiming the land as its own. The fire country is dead. The others haven't been looking for me, or otherwise they are already dead. Maybe I will die soon, too.
What happened to Hela? I don't know.
What happened to the others? I don't know.
What will I do?
...I don't know.

[Testimony of Two Ravens Before the Allfather]

Yes, lord, we have found the half-giant, in a manner of speaking. He is not in Midgard, as we had suspected, but in a surreal dimension existing roughly parallel to it. It is governed by water. No, lord, not by Water Giants of Aegir's kind. It is something we, with all our thousands of years of faithful service, have never seen before. Towards humans it is malignant. Of that much we are sure. It appears that it tolerates the intrusion of beliefs to a certain extent. Our report is not concluded as soon after our discovery of his whereabouts, the half-giant appeared to catch wind of our presence, and has since disappeared from the dimension. We ourselves were forcibly ejected by the aqueous entity that we mentioned earlier.
We gather that from his domestic surroundings (he has built a hall, lord, a house) and minute observation that he has acquired a daughter. Contrary to our previous assumption, she is not a fruit of his union with the giantess Angrboda, having more of the cast of a faerie. Ostensibly, the half-giant has sealed away his chaotic inclinations. Otherwise we would have been able to locate him with ease, regardless of where he went.
We are deeply sorry for our failure, lord.

[Testimony of a Wolf Spirit Before the Allfather]

The half-giant? He brought his sons, master, and I was not able to finish off so many of them. They used a diabolical method, master, using fetishes and avatars to manifest in the chaos maze, tricking me into believing that he had killed them when in actuality they were bringing the girl to him. Naturally I could not defy Lord Fenris-wolf, my nature being similar and far inferior to his, master, but I say Sleipnir should be punished for his part in this. He is your personal charger yet he obeys the demands of his parent. I complain against this injustice, master.
Where did the half-giant and his daughter go? I can't rightly say, master. I was out cold at the time. Maybe Freki knows. He was there.

[Testimony of a Werewolf Spirit Before the Allfather]

Your humble servant begs to inform that he cowers in awe of your august presence, master. As you say, master. I will dispense with the customary inflections due to one of your rank, to ensure the clarity of my message.
I report that master's suspicions were confirmed in full, that Loki Lie-smith had indeed possessed a house within the no man's land of the River, and within this house he kept two things: a daughter and a labyrinth. The labyrinth is dimensional chaos is Lie-smith. With his departure proper from the realm it is reasonable to assert that it has gone as well. The only thing that should remain there is the house, which is now but an empty shell.
To your humble servant, master, his daughter seemed a half-wit, only capable of little tricks with flames and hiding away in holes in the manner of a mouse. It is the faerie ancestry speaking, for is it not true that most, if not all faeries, are the type that hide and sneak and slink? Titania must have not fulfilled her part of the bargain very well. But I digress, master.
A little belief goes a long way - is that not what they say, among the old gods, master? Centralized belief in you and only you. It opens up new paths. New understanding. Lie-smith played his available cards very well with his daughter as the deciding factor. While he looked for fresh worlds, to begin anew in, his daughter stayed behind, to guard the house, so to speak. To guard his labyrinth. He got his other children to help with the process when it seemed that his little belief could not escape from our pursuit of her. Apparently filial piety is the prevailing trend in operations of the heart.
This is where we failed, master, and again I beg your utmost forgiveness. Gevaudan went all to pieces the moment he saw Lord Fenrir. It could not be helped. We are uncertain of Lie-smith's current location, master, perhaps you could conduct some inquiries?
I do not know if he ever sustained any true affection for his daughter, master. There are some things even I cannot determine.

[Conversation between Blood-brothers Meeting for the Last Time]

- Are you sure of what you are doing?
- Absolupositively. Are you sure of what you are doing?
- I am not. None of us are. But there is nothing else we can do.
- How the mighty Aesir have been brought so low. That is the question. And I will dance upon your funeral pyre (if there is enough belief left for one).
- You would.
- Not out of malice, you understand. It's just that it's the done thing, for sworn enemies who were once closest of brothers. You should know. Stories and circles, that's all you move in.
- Circles are all there is left to us. We are creatures of habit, and the habit is growing ever harder to keep. All our deals are done in the currency of belief, and it is not true that there is more to share when less of us survive - our value lies most in complete sets, as a collector would say...
- I've done a bunk, is that what you're saying?
- With the vanquished gone, there is no point in there being a victor left.
- Well, that's not my problem.
- Your problem is that you never realized that you ever were beaten. It made things difficult. Complicated.
- It's very plain now that I'm the one that came out on top at the end, isn't it.
- ... Yes.
- I'm off. I'm not struggling in this hellhole a second longer. I've found a new place, and I want to be the first one there.
- Perhaps it is fitting.
- You've gone soft in your old age.
- All things must come to an end.
- Goodbye, Allfather.

[Hela's Monologue]

This is a strange place Father has brought me to, & I am worried & not a little scared, it is unstable & undefined. There are people like Miss Lily & her friends but also not like them because they haven't begun yet to believe. Father says this is a good thing & we will shape their beliefs so that I won't be just a little fire spirit any more but a Goddess of Death imposing fearsome & terrible to behold. I say that maybe I wouldn't want to be imposing fearsome & terrible to behold, & Father says that that's what every god wants to be & that I am so contrary that it would be hard for me to become one anywhere on account of other people massacring my believers who would be too pacifist to raise a finger against them, I nodded because at the time I did not quite understand, & he laughed.
Father is changed greatly, he is darker & a little harder & somehow malicious in his ways. He has told me to keep the dagger, it will be useful in time to come. He has made Plans, Plans that promise to overwhelm & envelop & encourage belief growing as if weeds on a plain. Previously I had asked Father if it was possible to open doors to other worlds here like the House. He said "No" in a final sort of voice.
There are big things happening in the world with the river on the rise. What my fire divined that night in the House was shocking & disarming all at once but here which is far away it seems now a dream a bad one now I am forgetting it, her, them, the riverine humans. I have got a new life now where I cannot reach them & they cannot reach me, & may the Lady be with them because if not they are of a certainty Dead.
I am me & I am not me, in the new land I am me with the downturned ankus & the wild hair & the grim face, handmaiden of chaos ruler of corpses priestess of fire, no longer do I hide but they hide from me. Daily my realm grows larger fuller broader & my power grows crueler colder harsher, & perhaps I am happy...

Ref. Akutagawa Ryunosuke, In a Grove. Next post (if ever): The First Emperor's Horse

15th February 2006, 03:55 PM
Hey all, many thanks for keeping my character alive and active :biggrin: Sorry if shes been a burden to you...I still dont have the net at home yet but things are going better for us, for those that didnt know me and Rudy moved back to VA and have been staying with my family since Nov, but soon we re going to be moving into our own place again, and when we do things will finally be back to normal lol
So dont worry I said I was coming back didnt I? ^v~ Ive read everything up til now so Im all caught up, Ill try and get back here (the library) again sometime soon and make a post, it wont be able to be every day but Im going to try at least once a week because I really like this RPG ^v^
So anyway thanks to Weasel and Plantae and Chiko-sai especially for keeping Lily alive and active. Ill try to post something soon, next time I can get up here, since Im working on some delicious ideas in my mind right now! Sorry again that its been so long since Ive been around ^-^()

15th February 2006, 10:25 PM
Oh, you have a great "your welcome" from the all of us here I am sure, Asilynne; I feel it our duty to keep the colorful Lily alive and well while you are away. I mean, if we were expected to feed your pet, it wouldn't exactly be a good idea to ignore it, now, would it? No burden at all...

I am entirely glad to hear that you are back, and wait for your posts; I am without care as to how sparse they may be, for it will make each one all the more valuable. Here is to hoping for consistent internet access in the future! Just ignore that five-day rule.

All and all, "delicious ideas" certainly grabs my interest. I am sure you will not disappoint.

I must forewarn all of you of several things in this coming post. One, it takes an unnecessarily large amount of words what could be said in several sentences, and two, I make an attempt at some poetry with a bit of a syllable pattern; three, and finally, it is so offbeat it may be vulgar (probably my intention in some backwards way). There is an abridged summary at the end, but I'm sure those left are those that want to read the original.

= Oiyg =

That metal, tearing… my shoulder blade! What ferocity, oh how it gave me pause and in me new cowardice awakens, or is it the old? I care little for any of it, and desperately wish that I can escape this horrid place with these horrid people. Why have they attacked me? I have been fitting in so well… how does he know me? He must smell the marshes, those dangerous climes with their dangerous mistress. Ah, ah, Elly. She has sent me on a mission that could get me killed! I have been hit on the shoulder blade, but what cruel things could still happen to me? I am filled with what tastes like bile, an emotion that boils over every fiber of me… my heart… my soul- if I have one; it covers the supreme ache that is rattling through every inch of me with that last strike, which had seemed so calm, the eye, but had really been no less than the wall of some great storm. I can hear the thunder crash, and I remember that age past when I had been a tree, when I could not flee from the lightning bolt which bore down upon me. I remember burning; I can feel that itch on my skin. Then, I begin to slowly understand this vile tongue of flame which ravages my heart. I see her, and words come to my mouth. I spit “Witch!” And I recognize it, finally. The overwhelming feeling inside of me abates and I know it as my own. It is no longer foreign. It is mine. My own. My [i]hate. And suddenly, what I have seen as a world so good and new, so fragile and so balanced, so beautiful, has been torn to shreds and the last vestiges of my constitution fall away. “So sickened am I! Poor, poor, Oiyg! She is but small!" I tell this to anyone that listens, and know not if the terrible words even escape my mouth.

“Ahgh! Roargh!” I scream, the words… they tear themselves from my mouth until they are hardly words, and more beasts, all of their own spirit, which yell alongside me. A chorus, a cacophony of fatal fury is the creatures and I. Oiyg had only wanted to be a friend, and then the Fae and then Elly, temptress and trickster, the queen of them- now I want vengeance, and to answer to no master. I tap deep into the reserves of power, power that I would not have known- power awakened not by practice, no- and glorious energy which I had not known existed. It is like a floodgate unlocked, spilling relentlessly onto a wary hamlet below, but not cautious enough was this thorp, for it was swallowed away and the blood of a nation mixed with the waters of yore. The waters that had flowed beneath me for long, oh the waters which were my nutrient, my lifeblood, and the strand of them that entered the marshes; I was glad they had boiled, I hope for it all that her words were true and that Elly’s home was but a searing and frigid waste.

I imagine with the mind of a child, and will the transformation with the control and need for dominance of an adult. I am between them now, no longer so naïve, but yet enough to be of little worth. My own dirty face melts away, for I am but a puny child with a strange rage, but my countenance will not be taken so lightly; no, Oiyg would not be taken lightly! I burst with, “No she will not! Oiyg is not… a… CHILD!” I see no longer the light of the world, no Oiyg does not! Oiyg grows! Growing I am!

“Kill the betrayer! Kill the betrayer!” Do I say it, or do those ridiculous humans? It is so vicious, it could have been the either of us. I want to be that kind of monster. I want to hate and to maim, decapitate, eviscerate, slaughter, butcher!

What wiles has she! What wiles this Elly. “Whore!” I say, and repeat, “Whore!” I taste the viciousness of the word, this insult is so new! I cackle, and I cackle to the extent that they only stare do the humans. I wipe a single dainty finger on my wound, still chuckling insanely, and bring the finger to my lips where I taste it with a dodgy smile. I guffaw with the force of a sneeze, and then I do sneeze- blood. It flies from my nose and strikes the ground with a ”kershplat.”

I speak with a new authority now, a masculine tone and an underlying, offbeat meter with the touch of the unseen dark. “Foul, worthless humans! Oiyg is good and nice! Oiyg is kind and fun! But no, Oiyg is not good enough! Oiyg is too stupid! Elly says she is, I sees it in her eyes! I sees her disgust! Her grossiness, that ugliness! That hideous smile! I see it in my mind! I see her charms! I see her and I see you and I see me and I see blood! I see your blood, and her blood, and the world’s blood intermixed and splattered all over like a beautiful… pretty… portrait. Of me! Of Oiyg! Oiyg so red in her anger! Oiyg turned and repulsive!”

I cannot even stop to catch my breath, for my devilish need. For my need to blast them all, to force all these thoughts from my mind. It expel it in a merciless and meaningless burble, a bubbling like the bubbling of a pot cooking human flesh, I speak like a true cannibal, “Ger-ee-oo-ar-ga-ee-a-er-en-ee-oo-ga-la-argh!” It feels to Oiyg ridiculous, but is terrible to behold! The desperate incantation invoked by a lost child, the final straw of a human mind breaking; or maybe the same straw, dipped in a vat of swirling guts and bile, and disintegrated in the wake of a tumultuous premonition of doom.

A sulfurous vision of death, and the truth of enslavement, and how we all fall in the scheme of the world. Gods and men, men and gods, and the damnable creatures that live in a pseudonatural space adjacent. Twisted, mutated and unwanted. That is how Oiyg feels! Forlorn, and why should she be! She will force herself in, force herself into a body, and into a niche, no matter how sadistic that niche may be.

And a raw, crimson mask
It flows over the fangs
The liquid dripping from
Is never to be known

Wrong is the image seen
By human eyes who now
Want blindness in their hearts
Their souls to put to rest

Never again shall see
The horrors such as these
Fingers, long claws and sharp
Razors that cut too deep

The body of one young
Now turned something ancient
For it smells rotted, gone
The nostrils cry in pain

The wolves they run in fear
Succubi are in tears
A being, tentacled death
Chaos breathed into life


The grin- a great toothy maw- of a terrible thing lights the dawn. The rising sun is crimson, the falling moon has gone out like a candle; only whispers in the dark, whispers and the growls of a being- a hideous, satanic creature. It bellows, and no longer speaks even mangled vernacular. The coming day has begun, and a child has died.

And from the body has risen a monstrosity.


I realize that was not at all lucid. Oiyg has fallen far into transformation, and will recognize no other. She is still keen to run should it be needed, and is more set on Elly’s insides on a platter, but will be satisfied with a couple dead humans should she be provoked. She has shown her demon nature, and it is most certainly not pretty.

She cannot sustain the form forever, a short time actually, and will fall into a coma or barely have the strength to flee after it is ended.

As for her exact appearance (and possibly powers), I'll let your imaginations decide.

18th February 2006, 03:40 PM
Thanks Plantae, heres hoping I dont disappoint! And congrats on the grungy bloodladen post and poetry, deliciously demonic LOL ^,-,^
Ive got less than an hour so here goes, I planned most of this out in my head already so I hope it looks as good written out as it did in my head!
I also tried my hand at a little bit of poetry in here, though its not long and pretty simple I hope you guys like it!

~~~Lily O'Keefe~~~
Alone where the flames dream...

There it is, those familiar trees...the trees my childhood mind called home. Back before the world told me I had to be civilized, back before I became a creature of technology and gasolene. A plastic shell that thrives and breathes on the whim of society.
It was less complicated back then.... I knew who I was, knew the way the world worked. I knew the pulse of the earth, as each tree breathed with its own rhythm. I laugh as I remember, but it is not Lily the Adult I hear, it is Young Lily, the Lily born of the Earth, born like a tree which knows not the fast pace of "human" life. Born like a songbird or a deer, who dont know roads and fences, dont know property lines or boundaries. All I knew was the earth in its entirety, all that was nature was my home. I climbed the highest trees before I knew it was dangerous and not "lady-like", I ran headlong in the woods and rolled in the grass before I knew I would "get dirty". As if that were a bad thing!
Though part of me knows I am still in that house of Fire, that I had been Adult Lily for far too long and that I could never go back to these woods I knew as a child, I still delight in every moment. The River World had been in my head too, but I found myself in it, so this is no different.
But suddenly I hear a voice, a voice that didnt belong to the Woods of Young Lily. A voice that I have only heard in the River World, singing a song that spoke to the inner reaches of my heart.

Every year I die,
And every year reborn am I.
My life entwined
With every leaf
and every vine
This is my belief.
My soul is nature divine.

Reaching the small clearing where I always set up my little forest home, I see him.


In my childhood spot...how could he know where this is? Why is he here? Seeing me as Young Lily, he smiles, but he does not rise from his seat on my favorite branch. Before I can think to ask the questions that run through my head, he speaks, and his voice is like the whisper of the wind in the trees, and then I know. I know what he says is true.

"I am Young Lily's favorite tree. I am the woods you ran in, I am the stream you jump across. I am the path you took just now. I am the woods. Call to them, Lily, and I will hear you. Call to nature and I will come."


I woke up with a start, to find the flames in the fireplace still flickering as they were a moments ago. I was dreaming, I felt that stronger now, but part of Young Lily, the part of her that had been strangled and smothered by my hectic adult life, was alive again. Before I had just accepted I would probably die in this strange house, die without anyone knowing or mourning my passing, and I had not cared. But now I was Not Quite so Adult Lily, I wanted to live, but most of all I knew what I knew back then.

No four walls could ever hold me.

I would find a way out, and that dream had made me remember how. Tryfan had said if I needed to contact him I just had to ask the forest and he would hear. He must have powers similar to mine, born of this River World, and while mine were dampened by this house of Fire Magic, it couldnt dampen my natural spirit. My spirit always called to the forest, it always gave me strength and a sense of well being. And while I could not take one of my animal forms I could use my human self, as I had in days long past.

Calling forth Young Lily to help me, I threw my head back and howled like a wolf as loud as I can. Wolves had always seemed to me to be the essence of nature itself, wild, untamed, killers at times but also gentle towards their own. I hoped their call would stir the heart of the forest, and I hoped Tryfan would feel the call. Though I didnt know what he could doto help, somehow, it would feel better if he knew I was still alive. Reguardless of how long that would be, it would feel good to know I wasnt alone. Hela had said not to follow her, and indeed I couldnt with the disappearance of the door, but I was also worried about her.

And if Tryfan didnt come.....I knew what I could do. But it was dangerous, and I wasnt even sure if it were possible. Life was described as something that displayed at least two of the following: Ability to breathe, to consume something for nourishment and to leave waste, to reproduce, and there were more...why couldnt I remember what Ive learned? It didnt matter, because the form I was thinking of displayed all of these.
I would wait til the flames turned to embers before I attempted, that would surely give him enough time to come, if he heard. And if I tried to take this form....would I know myself? Would I be able to become Lily again? I didnt have the answers, to anything. But I knew one thing.
This house would not hold me here, and if I had to die, I was taking it with me.

Im going to PM you Plantae because I need to ask permission about this "form" Im talking about LOL
Hope you dont mind me calling Tryfan, Weasel ^v^

20th February 2006, 03:33 PM
Ooh, I'm back! Sorry, things have been crazy, but hopefully after Mardi Gras life will settle... or maybe not, since my birthday is coming up and my friends and family want to do something big, apparently. Dunno. I'm trying to catch up, but I'm kind of dumb right now... More about that later, I guess; I want to finish reading right now.

Weasel Overlord
1st March 2006, 02:33 PM
Short. Apologies. Hope that's okay for you, Asilynne!

[color=palegreen]~Tryfan Wen~
...when the forest calls, I answer | the forest burns...but I come...

The wind whispered through the trees, and I listened. After the horrors of the cave, my heart being broken and then rapidly re-mended after Mathias’ surprising revealing of Hela and her even more surprising transformation and escape.

Something had told me that she was not truly Lily...something called and whispered in my mind. Like the gentle touch of a willow branch on my shoulder.

But this time...flames licked about the edge of my imagination. Hot, threatening flames and I could hear the forest screaming...

But these screams had undertones of something much more dangerous...Someone else was screaming too...

red...blood, scorched wood...

screaming...trees screaming...the ancient Alder but a stump, a pile of cinders forlorn and alone, dampening in the sad rain...

“Lily!” I broke from my reverie, ready to answer the whispered message. I grasped my spear and charged out of the cave, managing to keep my footing despite the headlong rush.

“Lily...” I panted as I ran, a sense of urgency pushing me onwards, ever faster, never tripping.

Sure-footed as a cat, I skidded to a halt outside an old house. The Alder had told me of it, heeding my desperate cry as I ran.

Brandishing my spear at any dangers, I padded through the old doorway. Lily sat beyond.

I knew it was her. I could smell her. Like a divine flower she sat, huddling in front of the embers, a look of desolation on her face.

I coughed gently, to let her know I was there and she turned.

“I knew you were coming...” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re here...I don’t like this house.”

“I told you I’d come if you called...”

12th March 2006, 07:32 PM

A robin pecked curiously at the statue that had appeared overnight, and warily too, for it had heard the songs of the Fae, and their power, and it had grown an intelligence by it; the bird was not so capable as to comprehend exactly the relationship between the two, but it had all the caution for this unknowing. For the marshes had boiled, or so it had felt when it had dipped a talon in them by accident, a talon which it nursed yet today; it knew not, again, to make connections, but the poor avian had instincts and they told it that the air about this place was wrong.

Still, lacking quite the intelligence to flee, and the area proving free of predators, it sat more than a little gleefully on the head of the strange rock and groomed its feathers.

And then, an hour later, it saw her- it knew her. It fled to the wind in an instant, not in time to see that wicked being touch the carving mercilessly.

It did not see her ruthlessly whisper a siren’s sing-song word, and nor did the robin stay so long as to hear her say, “Awaken to my service,” for it was in such a horrid tone, who would have listened willingly?

But a sculpture had no will, and was forced to listen to all over the ravages of time- for a sculpture did not live.

And then it did, it lived and it breathed, and a nymph found herself no longer in sleep. She was alone, forlorn, but she felt that presence in her mind, that faint call that demanded in a hideous and needy murmur. It was but a single deed that Eleiamae must accomplish, and then her freedom was granted upon her.

“Kill the shape-shifter.”

= Oiyg =

In the mind of a beast, there was no solace, and so it was for Oiyg. Her bloodshot eyes bore into the humans left, but in her own rage she lost track of the betrayer. She lamented this with a howl, for he had merely run past her. In presence of mind she might have asked, "How could this be?" But in this monstrous form, she could only ask "Where could he be?" And even then it was garbled in her own mind, and she instead put herself straight to work against another foe, for her memory faded... Oiyg could not remember shifted where the betrayer was, even which one of them was he. Her mind had devolved into simplistic notions.

Two humans, twenty feet from-

Trail, smells like human...

Scent on wind, nymph-

Nymph striding towards...

Paths to contemplate, so she took the closest. She extended a tentacle in her confusion and swiped lackadaisically affront her. Oiyg did not strike a human, and so she glared as she smelt the wound still gaping and still bleeding in her new form.

But it was regenerating quickly. She had awakened a new power, and the so she was not distracted in the least.

And then it overpowered her again, that ebb of thoughts from beyond. Eleiamae...

The beast turned and fled, rushing towards the hills and then the wetland below them. Through the forests, crushing saplings and hearing their death cries. Crushing all in her way, for there was only one way- to kill Elly.

A fleeing robin was devoured with a gaping maw, for she saw none of what she was doing. Bugs flew into her mouth too, and there in that acidic grin they met their demise.

She gnawed her way through underbrush that proved too difficult, and chased the smell- but it was not so hard, not a challenge she felt. She realized again that the creature, temptress, nymph was coming to her. A sane Oiyg might have called her a fool. The insane thing spawned from her wondered what nymph flesh tasted like.

It was a curiosity then, how in sudden bated breath it sat like a massive shaggy dog- it did have, though, several key differences.

First, the demon Oiyg did not have fur. Second, she had no ears. Third, no tail. And lastly, the two of them looked nothing at all alike- for Oiyg was in a ravaging fury, frenzy, a maddening state... but yet she waited.

= Joseph =

It had left, and they had lived. He embraced Sara but had no trouble suppressing tears. She, in contrast, let a single fall, the rest abated either by that she was strong or by that she was terrified. He had no means of discerning which.

With each movement he rejoiced more, and then, as it took him further, to the pool where he saw his matted face and the fuzz now sprouting off it, a new idea was wrought into his mind. "You missed a challenge," was his sentiment. "You cannot fight your own demons or another." He reminded this voice, for which he spat on mentally, that it had ran from him. And he drew himself up proud, and broodingly stirred the pool with the stick he had tossed aside.

It was strange by any means, for it was as if he stirred a cauldron of some foul substance. So he stopped, and then he vomited in all his distress and for the blood he had seen. Was it his delusion?

It was no delusion. And so, with a war fan since dropped, he decided his power was at no pinnacle. He wanted value in this world, and he would cleave it from his own blood. Therefore he would, and he slashed his own arm without care, bracing it and then squeezing his crimson sacrifice into the pool. He imagined he had cut not his own arm, but that it was Zhila's. He willed it, in empathy, and the floodgate was opened.

He swore he heard a feminine cry of pain in the distance, and he smiled as Sara knelt down beside him. She looked aghast at the wound, and then more as it healed. It could only mean when a runic scar twisted about it, that the magic had been done to good effect.

And then he laughed, but the bellowing and giddy echo was not his. Joseph claimed to his mind that he hoped that his act had hurt her, and so he explained to Sara, "I may have harmed Zhila. She may not be so... invulnerable." Her gaze questioned, but he shook his head, and gestured with a shrug that he could no more inform her as to what it had been that he did.

And then the other part of him delighted in it, and though he tried, in finality he was only disillusioned with it. He knew that if that wracking wail had been Zhila's, or maybe if his magic had gone awry- if it had done the damage at all- he would dig further and make room for little else.

He wanted to inflict death upon Zhila, who had the same intentions as to this group of humans? No, Joseph merely wanted to prove he could kill- or was it again?

And then the mask was put on, and he denied it all- and voiced to Sara, "We ought to find Tryfan." Lying came second nature to him, so when this declaration came sprinkled in worry, it was hardly surprising that in reality he would have said it with not an ounce of care.

Joseph's cares were more carnal.


17th March 2006, 04:09 PM
Sara Raize
...promise me they will never see the fear within our eyes...

I stared at the wound, now scarred over, that Joseph had made on his own arm... and the shock started to sink in.

The silence of shock is overwhelming; it isn't real silence, only self-made; to block out all other stimuli while your mind tries to cope. It was like I was stuck in a vacuum; I could see, but didn't, I could feel, but didn't... so it was for all of my senses. My mind was numb, weak, unguarded.

I floated in, whatever it was, the thing that wanted me. It hovered in my subconscious, melting into the shadows of my mind while I was defenceless. I knew it was there... but I couldn't stop it. No, I could, but I didn't. The darkness became one with my own, deepening the taint of my own soul, feeding on my weakness. Preparing...

"Sara, did you hear me?" Joseph whispered, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. I looked at him, face slack, eyes cold, empty. I had heard... but, yet, I hadn't. I just stared at him, empty, observing him in every aspect... but never let him see that there was anyone home.

"Sara?" The concern intensified, slightly, a slight shadow crossed his face as he looked into my empty, soulless eyes.

Mustn't ignite his curiosity. Mustn't draw his attention too greatly... Keep him at bay, Sara, keep him at bay...

"I'm fine," I whispered, by voice slightly rough, like in the past few moments I had forgotten how to use it. I kept my face blank, but his worry remained. Quickly, I smiled slightly, and he seemed to relax. He hadn't notice that the smile didn't reach my eyes...

"Let's find Tryfan," he repeated, and I nodded, standing like one with no individual purpose, no mind of her own. I followed him out of the shelter of the cave, and into the trees... but I turned and disappeared into the forest, without a sound, leaving no trace. I did track him, however, able to hear, able to almost smell his movements. I hunted him, waiting to see how long it would be until he realised that I was no longer there, no longer following him like a well-trained dog. I was no one's dog, not even to the shadow.

The shadow called to me, but it would wait. I wanted to hunt Joseph for a while longer...

There, Sara's off on her own little adventure... I've got a subplot for this, so no one's going to see her for awhile... and it'll buy me time to finish up at school and not worry about keeping anyone waiting... ^_^;;

27th March 2006, 05:21 PM
Sorry for the loooong wait, Ive had this in my mind for awhile but havent been able to get up to the library recently. The reasons why are a very long story which I will post in my journal come April when hopefully Ill have net access once again ^-~
Anyway here goes, itll probably be long so hopefully Ill get to do everything I have planned before I run out of time!

~~~Lily O'Keefe~~~
The definition of life is blurred

The last flickering flame had died, had turned into a pile of faintly glowing coals, like gold nuggets shining with a light of their own. He wasnt coming. Either he wasnt able to or he had not heard. Maybe this house was in a time apart, maybe time didnt pss here as it did on the outside. This house was full of mysteries, not one of them could I even begin to figure out. But one thing I knew for sure; If I was getting out of here alive it would have to be by my hands.
I would not die here, that was what I had decided. And if I died here, this house would die with me, engulfed in flames. One way or another. But I put such things out of my mind as I focused on what I was going to do. If it could even be done.

Fire. It had the traits that defined life. It fed upon wood. It created waste in the form of carbon and charcoal. It breathed oxygen, and it reproduced. But did it have a mind, did it have what I needed to BECOME it? I would find out, though the thought frightened me a bit. Would I still know myself if I managed to do this? Would I be able to come back? Shaking my head I cleared away those thoughts too.

Dont be afraid, remember Young Lily. She would never doubt her own abilities.

Taking a deep breath I moved my hands near the coals and concentrated, focused on the image of fire, on its life force. And suddenly, the question of whether it was possible or not leapt from my mind. Fire shot up my hands. No, not UP my hands, for my hands were no longer there. Instead was five fingers of flame attached to a column of fire that ended at my elbows. There was no burning sensation, just the feeling that every molecule in my arms were surging, exploding, dying and then being born in fractions of a second.

The fear I had squelched down came back as I stared at what I had done. Images of Helas sewn on dead legs flashed though my mind. What did I do? Will I, Will I be lik her now, is this how that happened? In a panic I tried to make my arms back to normal, but in vain. The fear clouded my concentration, I couldnt do it, and that only made me even more afraid.

Im a FREAK! Oh goodness why did I try this?! What good will it come if I get out, if Im a freak?!?

I leapt to my feet, fear giving me speed and recklessness. Running to one of the walls, I attempted to pound my fists into the wall, screaming when they went through and set the wall aflame. Backing into a corner on my hands and feet, I only succeeded in catching more of the dry wood on fire, but the fire seemed to rest like a carpet on the ground. Regaining my senses for the moment upon seeing such a strange sight, I looked at the wall I had caught on fire. A door had opened up where once there wasnt one, and not caring how it happened I bolted for it.

Diving through I hit the ground and rolled, laying motionless for a moment as I caught my breath. I was out. I was free. That was the only thing on my mind.

And then the smoke hit me. Looking around I saw that the grass was on fire. The dry brittle brown grass had easily caught when my flaming arms touched them, and the fire was quickly spreading to the lifeless trees. No.... I thought, cursing myself once again for my foolish attempt.

I wanted to cry, wanted to put my face in my hands and cry for what Ive done, but I knew that would be equally foolish for more than one reason. So I just sat, sat as the forest burned around me, as the doorway into the house gaped open, until I heard a voice I had been waiting hours to hear.
"Lily..." Tryfan burst through the flaming treeline and stopped. I quickly put my hands behind my back as I heard him, ashamed that I had been the one to cause so much destruction. Unbidden, a smile came to my face as I saw him.

“I knew you were coming...I’m glad you’re here...I don’t like this house.” I said the last sentance with a choke in my voice. It was a great understatement but relief always brought that out in me.

"I told you Id come if you called," he said, and I looked away, my face growing as hot as my hands. What he said, or the way he said it, made me shy, though I didnt exactly know the reason for it. Standing up I took a few steps towards him, wanting to tell him what happened but being afraid to. He didnt know me well, and I felt like a monstor. What would he think?

".....Im.....sorry..." I started, and he movd closer. "What are you sorry about.....Oh Lily---youre on fire!" He started to take off his shirt to beat out the flames when I stopped him. Moving my hands up in front of me I held them out. Firey fingers spead from arms made of flame. I looked into his disbelieving, startled eyes, mine full of grief and sadness, and tried to stay strong as I choked on my words.

"I...dont know if I can turn them back....."

Hope thats ok, I wasnt sure about all of the things with the Fire House ^-^() Sorry Weasel :X Halfway through this post I realised a few details arent completely the same between ours so I hope you dont mind that I took some liberties with the part when Tryfan found her. I didnt change too much but still -.-() Hope its ok ^-^()

And sorry if it sounds all sappy and such! LOL I didnt want it to sound too 'Lifetime Channel' XD
Anyway I have less that 15 minutes left so until next time ^v~

27th March 2006, 06:18 PM
Everything is fine, Asilynne, quite certainly; I much liked it. The following is a filler, to forewarn. It only hints at Sara's possible actions mostly, Drusilla, if you wish to say they are otherwise.

= Joseph =

The very timbre of Sara's steps, careful but still rustling... it was damn fine. That soft padding, feminine, wanted my passions for it. She thought herself sly enough to hide from me; certainly, I could conjecture that she could not quite understand just what magic had done to my senses, now of which I had to withhold some of their power to avoid being harmed by the cacophony of sounds and sights that would otherwise reach my eyes and ears.

No, I could most certainly feel her. I could have known she had left my side in a fog, in the night, in a crowd- anywhere at all I could have known her- but there was a sudden difference. It ebbed from her, her position in the woods beyond, my having realized the instant she departed; with the single act, this ambidextrous feat- for she was no longer now a lapdog- I realized again that she was not some girl, she was a woman. She was a woman like Eleiamae, as was Lily a lady the same, and she was a dame like Zhila. The thought was sobering... so I let her play the game, mantis and her mate, for but a time. I felt, though, that her presence with me was not complete; she was fleeting but by the smell of her, and it would be only moments until she was called away. The question was, then... by what?

And walk on I did. I amused myself by talking nonchalantly with a flippant comment of, "Where do you think he could have possibly gone?" She lurched as she followed, thinking now would be when I noticed, but another footfall or two. I let it ring rhetorical.

So, pit-a-pat and a slouch, a mopey gait was mine. And then I queried, "Whereof has your mind gone Sara? You seem yet bothered... oh what is it by?" Then, as surely as she did before, she thought she knew I would recognize her gone then. Certainly, then, when no answer came to a simple question, I would see?

But then I followed, looking out ways from where she would have been standing before if she had followed instead of playing in the trees, and making it for all the world be as if I could not yet tell she was there. For it was at that instant I said, "I understand your not responding... it is hard here, what a strange world. Leastways, I think, the dread of never reaching home. I know you know it." She must have thought she made me a fool, by talking to my imaginary companion; however, though I might have been a jester, I was certainly not the joke. I was making it.

So I continued with a sigh and a laugh, a deep and simple laugh, for which it resonated to her as what would have been my... anxiety at our human condition. But the words, the wicked witch, the magic- the whole of it surely- it was all simplicity to me. When compared to here, back there was nothing and never again. I had no desire to be sane if to be insane was to want, with every fiber of my being... well, it was.

And so I thought aloud: "What time hath passed now for the time we have had here, you think, Sara? Hours, minutes, days, years? In all the novels I have seen, movies- the heroes were always out of time, were they not?" There was no answer but the woods woman Sara anticipating the discovery she was gone, oh so I could think by her fidgeting. I let her, hopefully astonished; she might ponder if I would finally identify her disappearance. But the question hung in the air, and I hoped... nay... I thought I knew that she was taking notes. Judging my tone and manner, and thinking to reach my personality due to this; therefore, I "woefully" looked skyward and conjectured, "But are we really heroes? I sure hope so, do you not?"

With a delicate caliber, I spun at this, and for a second Sara beneath the canopy flinched when my eyes touched exactly at her position. But this was only in my peripheral vision, for which I thought she was likely to think she was still well-camouflaged. She was not, as it was, and merely giving mimicry; mimicking the superior senses of me, but that was arrogance, and so I let the act go on while dismissing this as such.

"Sara?" It was the whimper of a lost fawn.

"Sara?" It was a wailing child, me as the babe and her mother who had been but by my side seconds ago; it was the most severe sort of deception, me pretending myself distraught… alone and the weaker for it.

I sped back the path, to the cavern of afore. I searched it high and low, my dignity failing; I let her think she had beaten me in such a way. I made it a show, the whole of it. I let her be the ventriloquist, and me the unwitting puppet, running about frantically searching for his lost head… and then solemnly I sat down in the center of the cave, on a rock as comfortable as one at Eleiamae’s… where was the Dryad? And then with a marvelous efficiency, but still slowness… like slowly turning on a radio… I picked up signal of Sara’s leaving beyond. In my reverie she had left from the woods, thinking now she had tricked me.

With this knowing I let my body wait but several seconds, tingling all the way. Then, with all haughtiness, I rolled on the floor in sadistic laughter. A cackling smile and a face contorted with the pain of speaking such ridiculous circumstances.

Then that flare of humor was out: I realized that I had lost Sara to the shadows of the great oaks and aspens, the alder saplings and pines. I would have never admitted to anyone that for that one, single, solitary shake… I came so close to feeling forlorn.


I had set off an hour ago. I had gone towards the marshes… for several seconds, and only in their general direction, before deciding explicitly and perfectly that Hela’s house was the best place to look. It was not a hard decision. I could see the smoke from where I stood.

Scenarios ran through my mind of what could have possibly happened, and when I said ran, I sincerely meant “walked at a brisk pace,” for I could only imagine myself as being entirely concerned with what had gone on there. I had the sneaking suspicion that whatever it was, Lily was alive; Hela was a fire creature, too, so I would be equally surprised should she be dead. I would be quite shocked actually.

And so I was when I arrived, out of the blue, Tryfan not seeing my approach: I was quiet and there were few plants that could stand these deadlands.

For a moment I lingered, but I was by his side soon, dropping what meager possessions I had, for I had only my weapon. And then I picked it up as promptly, paranoid. I witnessed firsthand the grief and sadness, and then the fire, and I held my head through it. I gave a feeble “What’s happened?” I was told, not necessarily all, and I bore into that flaming flesh of Lily’s.

I could only imagine what fun the river Zhila would have. She could put out a bonfire with the flick of her wrist certainly. Then I realized how right I was, and how vulnerable she was, and wondered for all the worlds where such a pre-eminent creature as that trying to slaughter us had gone in this time. I was curious.

It was but a bit until I decided with elegant simplicity that I did not want to know.


Weasel Overlord
14th April 2006, 07:17 AM
wow...long long time...so sorry it took so long guys...


All I remembered was the overwhelming feeling of greyness. It had surrounded me, engulfed me, until I was but a shadow of my former self. Lost on a wave of cold, grey madness.

I had embraced the feeling of closeness to the Earth, my immobile body a weight in the ground to be weathered, pecked, sat upon. No-one would know of my existence.

No-one had ever cared.

Encased in stone, riding the grey madness, I lost all care for my world. All the care that I had found in the last times...who knew when? Time lost all meaning as stone.

A single phrase of mine reverberated through my mind, carrying ominous warnings.

”I am STONE!” Perhaps I had asked for this.

The River, Zhila herself, had chosen to answer my prayer with a twisted sense of mercy.

But it had not worried me.

At least...not until the ground had become to shake with the tremors of transformation.

They shook my grey form, waking me from the madness long enough for a little worry to seep through.

Worry. A thinking, feeling being’s emotion. Stone I may have been, but after those tremors, I knew there was another part of me. The part that was hunted, almost by the land itself.

A memory or power seeped back. Power, not over useful things, but over emotions and playing with people, and illusions and glamours.

But still. They were me. And a great cracking had filled my awareness.

Light flooded into my grey life, illuminating my madness, my torpid, unchanging nature.

And I hated it. And I struggled as a faun struggles to stand for the first time, until I was free of my prison to find...her.

She. Zhila. The River herself, stood before me. And my mind was bent to her will, almost with no effort did she win me to her cause.

The shape-shifter must die.

My apprentice. Oiyg.

It was the her tremors I had felt, as she realised her great power, her great revenge. She was bent on killing me, and I, feeling once again the ever living emotion of worry, was worried.

What could my powers do to her, now she had reached her full potential? It was futile, and Zhila, exhibiting her cruel mercy once again, had set me on a course which would surely be my destruction.

And now. Now she came. And I was to be destroyed.

Clenching my fists and closing my eyes, I raised my arms in a summoning gesture. My own powers may not be much help, they could never rival those of Zhila, after all, but those under my dominion are less vulnerable than myself.

I felt the motions in my waters as my creatures answered my calls. Snakes swirled about my feet, joined by leeches, and small birds perched on my shoulders and any available area of skin they could find.

The waters at my feet rushed in anticipation. It had been a long while since I had called upon them for purposes other than scrying.

And Oiyg came.

She strode, terrible and changed beyond recognition towards me, a dreadful light in her eyes.

With a gasp, I recognised the madness behind her glare, not dissimilar to my own. Bowing my head, I flicked my wrist once, muttering under my breath.

The gloomy water eddied at my feet, leaping in a parody of Zhila’s power.

I bid the liquid take form of a shield, and, just once, wished for a weapon of substance. Something comfortingly heavy in my hands, one that could wound, nay, kill, with a movement of my arms.

Sighing quietly, I closed my eyes once more. Battles are more the better conducted blind.

My hearing improved without the distraction of sight and I felt the marshes move about me.

“We are on my ground, little one.” I placed as much seduction in my voice as was possible without my hesitation showing through.

“Why do you chase me so? It is not possible for you to win.” A snarl. A rush of wind as her head turned to me.

No longer capable of living thought, it seemed, she had degenerated to become animalistic, almost back to her roots.

My lip twitched at this reference to her past, for it had been obvious to me that she was almost one of my own kind. Not a Naiad, no, but a Dryad, almost. The spirit of a tree, or maybe even the tree itself.

The natural magic had always seemed stronger in her, pointing towards her fauna nature.

She was a part of the forest, I was part of the marsh. My waters were her sustenance, her branches gave life to my creatures, places to live. We were joined, but not so joined that I would hold back.

She wanted my destruction, whatever the cost, it seemed. But I felt no flicker of guilt, her predicament was of my doing, after all, but I had never been bothered by such matters.

“Child...” My voice was gentle, maybe I could get through to her, though doubt was strong in my mind.

“There is no need for such violence...such killing.” I sensed anger at my words, and a wave of mistrust and hatred washed over me as Oiyg screeched.

She screamed, loud, bestial, no longer herself.

And I felt pity.

24th April 2006, 07:57 PM
= Oiyg =

What courses the length of a demon, the life that drives it, is no soul as it was with Oiyg perverted and piteous. It was the tastes of the wild and for the first time in an age she bathed in the transcendence of control, not conscious to thoroughly enjoy it. She was feral now- slave to instincts but no other. And so she paced a trot-a-trot here there and gave forth her unhindered calm lacking with a snarl and a snip. She nibbled at the birds that flocked around her here, the mind-infiltrating wench that she no longer knew. Oiyg knew this Eleiamae- for in vivacity it was made clear how no cruelty was well-suited to the word “Elly-“ and the thing of her knew this being could in all sanity be too much for her. But she would still taste crimson. She would still taste scraggly reed hair and pallid marsh flesh if only in a snap and only for a time until she died herself (or it most proper). Though the land stretched far to the fogs and back to the fire lands around her, she had but one intention so cemented that she was a creature in a corner. It was her devotion and her own possession that drove her limbs to funny maneuvers. That if she were slated to fall, fated though there was free will and no such destiny, that she would leave this plane as she had come to it: no, not of seed, but from the crashing thunder, now bequeathed by her gestures, and with a lightning strike.

It was the green and the strangers among it. It could be all and nothing in the peat bogs of their hearts, beating rhythmically and the Oiyg-bastard’s a bulls-eye in its un-soft screeching meter. It would be driven there, the stake, but now the grotesque hide was closed but a scratch-chest, possible premonition of that to come. It was the waters, oh those with their whimsical vicissitude of swirls and swaths of frothy muck for which the scum of this place dwelled. If ever there was a river where the devilish mistress of the place did dwell, not of the marsh but of this world, that Zhila, it would be likened pure. But there was no such perfection. For even if it was white rapids and calm chaos, a hodgepodge of the highest quality in the liquid that put a bottled counterpart in an ever-growing ever-distant world to shame, it could never be. For the taint of sin scraped bottom ever-more and nevermore would life inhabit; it was wrong for that it was only portent to an immortal and for it lacked the part of life that made it worth its living: death. When a goddess could find mortality and not the opposite, than vice versa would it be, but no, for then though it would be it would be again and not flawless, merely erred in different dark than the former. But this sorceress in front of the eyes of fire, Eleiamae, she used it, threw up her shield of it, and even brought with it a sword in her grip. So it was not the two, no, it was Oiyg far-gone and Eleiamae focused and the saber. For though it was of moisture, condensed granted, but still of such make that it might be called meek… water could best make a blade for what it did. It eroded passageways in all of space. How could it be, then, blasphemy, to say that with passade it would carve asunder that which would be the daemon’s passade into the after.

The Cirque du Freak had come to town and brought with it its fire dancer and its contortionist to perform an aberrant ditty. This was them now, the two, and hunter/hunted and predator/prey upon the other with their eyes and circling like vultures. Oiyg was doing the little of it, this movement, for such a large carapace meant ground covered easy. Eleiamae’s wit had her pinned to finding the perfect opening but her powers were a myriad. Her opponent was a one-trick-pony heigh-ho-having way to a burning corral, not okay. She used all her resourcefulness, all the tools of an artisan of dirty war. There were avian kind upon the monster now, pecking at its eyes, and Eleiamae was still a-twirling. Hither now, hied them hence the snakes which the lumbering fiend trod on, but not before chance came for them to sink their venomous mire fangs into the heel of it, tough as it was. Nor was it too much that she even beckoned the insects forth, mosquitoes which with their suckers penetrated the softest places, itching and red and sore was this challenger for it. But ne’er was it complete, finished, for now the first slash came with which the elephant moved just slight of. It was the waiting game, the matter of time before the bigger fell the harder. So it was a deliberate pecking swipe, swing now, a miss, connect too tough deflects the great. The small a-ho! Parry the scraping teeth which with luck still gnash a finger or two, not tearing but drawing blood. And both is pooled and sweat on faces, grimy countenance of ragged -locks-one and foul forehead of that one broad. One was the weaker, single which was the flailing apprentice?

And then it was two and not three, one and not two. That is to say with a rapid lurch were the canines tearing as they were born to, right in the right of spots in that gray-green soon-corpse, surely. They were buried there, certainly, non-probable not Eleiamae shorn- it was visible as ever and the tension the high as anticipated the death throes- from the flowing life in her veins which collected near a drip-drip dropping way. They were scarlet tears of mourning for the deader, for shame, the fallen. Yes did she bleed, but slowly, and at the shoulder- Oiyg had taken that water weapon through the gullet.

So they did arrive in wails, in wiles pleased with but a sacrifice, but with the puncture wound that missed the point and a pupil proved inferior. The temptress tasted victory the same mo the zenith of her foe’s end. The first was a jiff in which the other’s grime-brick blood came pouring. What was a little-big wound on the shoulder for a puncturing of the throat and its arteries? Not a wound at all, or so her triumphant sun-colored irises cried to the sunset- wolf on the prowl. Eleiamae was alpha female this eventide, the tide of Oiyg’s uncontrolled… hemorrhage. For she was not losing but the very air in her veins, she was saying a frail farewell to freedom, bittersweet good-bye and into the frigid embrace of an angel. It was a wonder where the souls would go here of all places- a heaven or a terrible purgatory?

She cast one last look at the animal-like outsider before her. At the oozing sores, pus-filled and bloody blotches and she bore her eyes into the brown-black skin. She gazed at the downcast burning eyes of red-green and to the calamitously infinite, giraffe-mimicking legs which stretched. Four-legged was she, claws on every hoofing foot. The hock of her covered in bumps, awful protrusions like warty imps bursting through her skin that then frolicked from there across the whole of her body like plague. And then at that bulbous head, swiveling on that almost implacable support of a neck, the holes that could be ears- at the mudded piece itself. She was in horrific appreciation for the lethality, now clutching her shoulder in pain, of those tyrannical cuspids. One last growl roared and a heave, a final sigh of an inevitable shudder.

Then a scream that silenced all, every waking entity, and against the rocks and mountains far, and from the clouds of ocean and the mists- to curdle and spoil, to corrupt- burst to reduce itself to a girlish expression of fear and hope extinguished and nadir… there lay her.

The Naiad collapsed at the helm of her kin-tree, Oiyg wide-eyed with a hateful blaming glare. She kneeled there, from exhaustion or even sympathy, for guilt, for what many emotions had broken through her rock shell, now molten: prone by the mutilated body of a child, piercing so awkward, so wrong. Eleiamae, prostrated at the feet of the dawn. The sun shone over the tops of the trees and made her deed look all the more despicable in the growing brilliance of day.

A reverberation is brought to her eye. The gathered waters splutter, rippling as if by giant’s stride by the blood of the shapeshifter.

In a crescendo, a cacophony made by a melody that was yet a forlorn noise echoed on the heart of the earth. From a distance came the sound of a wall, rubble- in a peal of deafening thunder- breaking.


2nd May 2006, 07:20 PM
Me-oh-my... I am a double-posting devil. But it is necessary in wake of Kirsten's accidental departure due to a back injury.

I Do Not Believe in Fairies

In the caverns below is a pit-a-pat. Standing center a quiet bedroom is a low pool- a well of drinking water or for other purposes- that reverberates with each delicate drop. The stalactites hanging woefully from the ceiling are its cause with moisture gathered densely there, trapped at this rock precipice of a ceiling. It is in these rotting bowels of the earth that lives the Fae and their kind, lamenting languishing wings of emerald that serve not well the purpose of flight. They grow to loathe the smells of the earth but there is a passage substance that binds them. It is the water. It keeps them in this less-than-lavish… falling into their own disdain and wallowing in the muck and malevolence.

No one but they would say that their city was grotesque. But when one wakes to see it incessantly- walks among it and about it- and always is ever-present within it… it grows to wear on the occupant. The streets and footpaths of the tunnels were weirdly empty. Not a single body in the hallways- nor in the homes- nor in the mushroom gardens or even at the great abyss, a stench perfumed by smell of dirt and fungus for which smelled better than the roiling piles of garbage yonder.

There was no Fae breathing at the great council table or in the square where the fountains had ceased to flow but stewed still with stagnant water. There was not a footstep on the cobblestones at the village’s heart, in the fortress from stone, and no mistress consul on the highest stool. The temple is bare as before it was built and occupied only by furniture and growing dust. All was as unoccupied and desolate as the distant surface of some dead star, abandoned by the cosmos to float endlessly in the gargantuan and choking distances, the mindless climes ripe with their own nothingness.

It was the weight pressed by a single might upon a weary world, a small world, and a waning world. This plane here remained as lifeless as the Fae halls so needlessly wide and welcoming. The warmth given by either had long since disappeared with those who stoked it. But somewhere a blaze is a-burn and flaring at the hand, not minding whether or not this hand is human or any other; it is merely there. And for its once-vibrant visage, for all its wiles and conniving citizens- those influenced by corrupted water spat from the great maw of her power- it remained no comparison.

Images flickered in the pools like windows. Like a theater, olden and with players that only mimed their action. These pictures flashed on and on and repeated and came unique, from different angles and perspectives many. They glossed the puddles like a gossamer-winged lace-fly, flittering here and there, and filling the wells with their council and then blank again. It was rife and riled and reminiscent- for these images were not newly seen- with a warrior’s memories.

In completeness and not in whole, the ghost duel between a fire dancer and a fire-breathing contortionist. The water rippled with certain anger as the nymph within its picture made blade from water but settled again as she wielded it in such skill and so it proffered its own will, wishing to augment fate. But the dryad-like naiad was not in dire need assistance, nor at all. But the stewing liquid needed her. For it needed distraction and vengeance that this lamentable shape-shifter’s fall would provide her. But for all its sight it was blind. For all its sense it was senseless. But then something happened that the River did not expect. All it had taken was absent-mindedness and droplets born from blood.

Suddenly it was fading. A wail and not the shape-shifter’s vibrated through the stone. Through the soil and the seed and the decay- she had been so caught up she had not understood. But the deed was surely done, so certainly that pebbles shook themselves free like sweat; a previously flawless ceiling crumbled, slowly, and then shook with fervor.

It is said that when Satan possesses all and the earth is swallowed by truest black that he is to find mercy. That the crown prince of hell shall find pause and he shall ask as his foe, the diminished god, withering away at his feet, “Shall you take nothing with you, God?”

“I shall take nothing.”

“Not even you God?”

“Not even me.”

The floors fell through and opened up as a civilization and a culture, interrupted by her hand, blinked out of existence. It took with it the beautiful structures, limestone and mica, mortar and masonry, and all the parts that had made them the Fae. It took with it the idols. The statuettes that depicted what the Fae had touched at one time. An old man with a patched eye and raven, Viking helms and hammers breathing lightning and then the last and fiery depiction. All the sculptures had once burned to show the life owned by those they represented. The all-father’s light was dim. All the others were dead. Only the trickster’s light lay yet in his eyes. And but only by his legacy in his daughter. But it mattered not at this odd hour, for the River world never had and never would have gods. All was swallowed by the collapse, even the thirty-seven corpses with forest hue wings at the wayside. This was the consequence of magic misused.


In the mountains to the South, in the highest throne at core of it all lay an empty basin. It was here, this mystical portent that would flow the River of this island. But the basin lay hollow, empty and without the death-bringing tide that once ebbed within it. For the River was in another demesne, on the realm of solid ground, tossed in grief over the well, which in seconds held miniscule drink as several saltwater tears fell within its maw.

Here rested Zhila or what had been her. The beauty, a presentation stolen from a dreamscape and applied in despair, had fallen away. The pitch-dark locks were instead a shiningly bald scalp of grotesque gray skin and the furling eyes of the sea a decrepit cataract that was holding only white and rusted silver pigment. The face was twisted, the fairytale countenance instead an aged and alien one. She was now but a doppelganger. She was a shadow and a whisper and a shell. For it was all she had ever been.

Her floodgate of power ran dry though it would recuperate in time. For now she was left to see the prune-like limbs and fall into a chasm widened by bastard vanity. Her first fault, or at least that which set her usually remunerative maneuvers back: why in all hell had she called for the shape-shifter’s murder? She tried to comfort herself, but while she had been wheezing from a demonic attack on her borders to which she had to leave her human homicide to attend, that illegitimate seed her own corrupted lifeblood had nurtured turned into what she should have seen it as to begin with.

Oiyg had been a tree. A simple tree formed from a seed gone astray. How it had morphed and made it over her wall she did not know. It was possible the seas had taken it, or at least its ancestral kind, to this side of the island. But however it was, baptism of fire had awakened her foe within it.

She knew the taboo as her own cruelty. She knew the effect a fiend’s, an other-sider's spilled hemorrhage would have on her work, her eroded landscape, should it fall! If she had only seen that demon for what it was a little earlier. Her desire to see the humans dead had blinded her, fooling her by simple trick of transmutation.

What she had knew not reason for was the Fae’s death; she knew, that is, but would not acknowledge it. The very waters she had poisoned with had suffered their demise and the magical backlash the entirety of their village. She had leeched their lives to give her youth and controlled them for her purposes.

She forsook her name in a moment. For Zhila was the language Fae, beasts of burden now toiling in the afterlife. She gradually stood, straightened her posture, and looked from her arisen courtroom at the spread of land below. And then she vowed, with the heart she had not, that some day soon the sun would rise red for her pain.


3rd May 2006, 01:17 PM
The first half-decent post I've written in a long time! ^_^

Lyrics (purple italicised) are from the song "Be My Victim" by Shadow Reichenstein.

Sara Raize
All alone on the street at night, you walk beneath a full moonlight

I sat in the dark, alone, or so I thought. I huddled at the foot of the old oak I had run to before, my knees drawn in, my arms hugging my legs tightly to my body, my face resting on my lower thighs. Where was I? Why was I here? Where were the others?

Were there others?

What was a dream, what was reality? How could I be sure? I shivered in the cold, my clothing barely enough to keep me from hypothermia. If it got much colder, I probably wouldn't live long... Despair and helplessness overwhelmed me, and I felt death's fingers lightly brushing my soul.

The chosen victim for my next attack, you feel my presence behind your back

I shivered again, violently this time, the imagery of my mortal soul being reached for from beyond feeling too... real. I opened my eyes, the sight of the empty forest bathed in moonlight assuring me that there was nothing to fear. Empty forest... I laughed silently to myself, knowing full well that the forest was never truly empty. The wind passed lightly through the trees, and I could have sworn that there was a whisper on the wind... But no, I was being silly. Children fear the dark, or what possibilities their minds see hiding in it, and children hear voices of evil in the night. I was no longer a child.

Indeed not, my dear.

I jumped slightly, sure that I had heard something this time. I peered into the darkness, but the shadows and moonlight played tricks with my eyes. Surely, there was nothing out there.

Not a child, certainly not, nor fit for mortal life... Your beauty is too great for that...

Filled with fear, try to run; resist my power, it can't be done

I stood, trembling visibly, trying to breathe evenly. “Wh- who’s there?” I whispered. “…Joseph? Is that you?”

The “wind” only laughed at me, but it was almost reassuring, not condescending in the least. It didn't make me feel any better though, knowing that there was something, someone out there that could play to my emotions. Part of me wanted to give in to this power, but I fought.

You feel my grasp, turn to see...

"Who in God's name are you?!" I cried, tears appearing in my eyes. I felt cornered, trapped, and escape seemed impossible. Who ever this was... they were powerful, and I had no chance against them.

"It has been a long, long time since I was referred to as "who", not what... you are a remarkable woman, Sara..." The voice was no longer an echoing whisper in the dark, but real, almost tangible, if a voice could be as such. A faint warmth returned to my numbing limbs as I struggled to move, backing away from where the voice had come from...

Caught in a trance and you can't break free

"I don't give a damn if I'm remarkable or not, just stay the hell away from me!" I tried to sound strong, sure of myself, but only managed to sound weaker and more afraid. That laugh floated through the night to caress my skin, managing to feel like warm fur and cool satin simultaneously.

"I cannot, my dear... your bright flame in this cold world of water draws me to you... Come to me, my Sara, come..."

I continued to walk backwards, away from where I thought he was, but I was naive, so naive. His arms caught me, so gently, and I found that, though my mind screamed out against it, I couldn't fight back. One single, warm tear escaped my eye and rolled gently down my face, leaving a trail of cold behind it. A hand, soft and gentle, lightly brushed the tear from my cheek, but even so I could feel the power in that seemingly harmless hand. This man could crush me so easily... yet he was being so gentle...

"Come to me, my Sara..." he whispered in my ear.

At last... you'll be... free from the chains of... mortality...

EDIT: I was "texting" (that is, talking via text messages on our cells) with Asi on Sunday, and she said that she and Rudy should have internet access by tomorrow...

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
7th May 2006, 12:57 PM
Dodgy shortish post that isn't really a post but probably comes somewhere under the umbrella of River-world fanfiction. Er.
The Immortal Magai
"Death by Water"

Don't leave me and say that you want to find a way back
Believe me, I followed all you said...
- Lo

The sound of water fills the cavern in a deadly rush. The First Emperor's horse, being born from water, knew that there would be a time when it would die, and that it would die by water; but it never wanted to die here. Here where there was no one. Without a name, or a lineage, or a crowd of mourners at its disposal; that was no proper way to die...

Water lapping at its hooves it climbs, first onto a low rock, and then onto a higher one, and finally the promontory nearest the ceiling of the cave that is busy with stalactites: but the level of tainted water keeps rising, and its legs are almost spent, sensitive to the clarity of liquid as they are. This is how all grandfather tales begin - "There was a time when people, humans, would offer only the purest of distil to me, the horse, the First Emperor's horse..."

The horse can see the scales of its shins dissolving with a hiss in the water, the River's water, and it is afraid; yet it realizes the futility of attempting to escape. It is no foolish horse that the First Emperor called out of the waters to be his steed. The River in this cave is a far cry from the Yellow River of the horse's birth; where the yellow depths nurtured, these crystalline waves have every intent to kill. "I lasted, I lasted a long time. The people came and then they went. I thought one would stay, but he was no longer human, and he would not."

Before the markings on the wall completely disappear into the surging waves, the horse bows quickly, in all the eight points of its compass, and then it lies down in the prescribed manner for all royal steeds: prostate, with the left front leg, already half eaten away, raised into a kneeling position. The last thing it thinks of is immortality.

"He went away, and he left me in a safe place, or so he called it. I do not know where he is now, nor if he still keeps the vigil he used to keep in the old days, with the pot and the map of eight.

"He lived, and I died, in this place that he called safe."


This is a room he has had for years now. Fortune-telling is a popular service, and those plying their trade greatly sought after. Much belief is concentrated in the mutterings of soothsayers, even more in their promises of luck, of fortune, their special amulets to ensure prosperity, marital bliss, riches. He took this room, this gaudy room filled with cheap carvings of dragons and war-gods and fu-dogs, because it fitted the job description. Practitioners of feng-shui must look convincing in this new world where things are said that are not meant and deception winds round hearts like a creeper embracing stone.

In the alcove at the corner of the room there is a red-lacquered altar, one commonly found in Oriental houses, where the masses pay their respect to their ancestors. There is nothing written on the board of this altar, no couplets, no dedications, and certainly no names. A single bronze urn, gilded with some metallic alloy, sits in the middle of the altar. It is there for the look of things.

He rises slowly, as if in a dream, and takes the bundle of joss-sticks from the drawer beneath the altar.

He removes: one, two, four, eight slim scented rods.

He lights them with a match.

He draws a pattern in the ash of the faux-gilt bronze urn. Eight groups of broken lines.

He writes, in fluid, sweeping movements, The Immortal Magai, in the old script that no human now uses.

He holds the joss-sticks between his palms and bows low, eight times.

He places the joss-sticks in the urn, one on each trigram.

This is good enough.

Fuxi mourns.

16th May 2006, 03:22 PM
= Joseph =

I stood for a brief time, a brazen time in which Tryfan and Lily stared hopelessly at one another, lovingly, a time in which I realized that maybe I did miss Sara. I questioned myself as to where she had gone, and I worried for her, but then I worried not. She was fire, and for it, she would find herself not lost again quickly enough. I simply wondered if she would come back the same, wherever she had gone. But such thoughts brought me to a stalemate, a standstill, and were not in their worth in need of brooding over.

So I stood and I turned my mind. I watched and I waited, letting my senses grow larger than the two doves here and spread across the fire lands, and over the tattered remains of a charred house, and through the scant grasses. I let my perceptions, to which I had ignored of late, to find their full extent. And when my sight was emancipated, like an eagle’s and myself soaring somewhere unique to here: then I saw them coming. Two figures, forms, shapes, in the distance with their blazing crimson hair shining like strange treetops of saplings in a forest of gray. I could not scarcely make out their faces, but they wore reedy, plant-like material, dyed a vibrant maroon; as was the only feature that shone clear, their eyes, which were almost the same shade as their apparel, but in such so slightly off that it was unnerving. Both had their hair cropped short, a sweeping hairstyle, similar, and fruitlessly messy.

It was as they grew closer that I became aware of an aberrant arrangement. I noticed, somehow, that their eyes were… jumbled. And their other features too, as I saw thin red eyebrows and lips, and plain button noses. Some of them were sunken, but it was as if their features had been scrambled lackadaisically by a child artist, amusingly and without much care to actual human anatomy. If humans are imperfect as we are, than these humans were more bizarre yet, alien save for familiarity. It was all so wrong about them. They were but fifty yards off and not stopping- the one stared me back, and then the other- and I noticed they were both severely malnourished. Their lips were cracked and their limbs were gangly, thin and with a turn of the wrist that breathed something alien. Their dispositions, unreadable, and they approached with all purpose towards the three of us.

The woven detail of their clothing was beautiful, simple tunics woven right to point that I felt I must thank their seamstress or be unfulfilled, and they walked barefoot- they walked over harsh rock and harrowing gravel without a muss- and somberly. Zombies on the fields of yore, with what their skinniness, seemed some forced march gone awful. I had whispered at a moment, not remembered, of their approach and Tryfan and Lily were as wary as I. But had they adverse intentions, we would not have been the wiser; they merely strode right up to me, as I was closest. Both looked androgynous, and surely twins, though I believed the more dignified of the two was a woman and the other a male, the first by the curves and the second by his disassociation with said curves. Either way, both their faces were malleable, and I had to stop myself, as Tryfan and a still-distraught Lily did, from staring at the jigsaw, pieces, eyes, ears, mouths, noses, and skewn about sloppily. In high time the first, the one I conjectured a woman, stated with utter banality and a tone halfway in between a male tenor and a female bass, “Where is she?”

The man chuckled, for what reason I was not sure, and added, “And are you hers?” He grinned, sadistically, and drew out a long carving knife.

I knew exactly which “she” and “her” they meant and so hypothesized this was a variant of asking if we came in peace. But it was moldable enough and though threatened by the figure on the right with the knife, I spoke up with not a tremor in my voice, almost matching theirs in their and my dullness. “She is not here and that is good enough. We are ours.”

The man with the dagger relented, sheathing it again at his waist. He looked wary before shooting us a cursory gaze, deciding then, “You are not Fae. You are not hers. Then the Fae are dead.”

“Dead?” Queried Tryfan and myself, simultaneously, and we both shot the other a sidelong glare in lack of appreciation.

I could have sworn the female uttered, in whisper and in attention, “Contention…”

The man was blind to it and gave, scathingly- “The Earth has swallowed up their residence. Their city is gone.” It was a speech laced and stifled, as if coming through thin tube. And then he saw Lily’s fiery arms and he started, and so did she, and she asked, without rhyme or reason and without needing more sign of trust, “Do you want her dead?”

Tryfan looked as if he was about to say something dance-like, that is, around the point. But I declared prior to his attempts, “She desires to murder us. It is only fair we return the favor.”

The male made a peaceful gesture without expression and stated, as he noticed the blaze-afflicted Lily,“Good.” Then he strode past Tryfan and I, and he muttered an invocation in Lily's ear, and he watched her breathe, rhythmically, and she closed her eyes. And seconds passed, roughly seven, and the fire went out. “Simple,” he guffawed. Tryfan smirked angrily.


We made for South immediately. We heard their stories and their names and we gave ours. I told them Mathias, taking care to make sure they suspected no different. And, seeing no alternative, told him we had come from the other world, by Zhila’s hand. He insisted we had not- that she had not the power. Tryfan protested first and I agreed, but he discarded the argument.

There was a point in which the revelation came to me that they were speaking English (probably via magic). I asked him, he called Kaesaht (or so was it pronounced to me) and the woman Seezeit. They told us no more of themselves, simply that they were from the other side of the wall. I questioned their motives and was betting that the others also did. I was not sure what talents they had- nor was I sure of their intentions- and their personalities proved virile, indistinguishably so, and I concluded their forte deception, or at least apathy.

They further explained the demise of the Fae to which I listened intently. They knew little, but the wall had broken and they were scouts, the twins of a tribe, from the other side. I did not tell them of the shifter creature, so like them, that I had wounded and transmogrified in that. They had seen the great chasm that now existed there. Kaesaht intoned violently that the Fae were the mortal slaves of Zhila and so their genocide was not to be missed. Seezeit, perhaps more reasonable, deduced that it might have been Zhila’s own doing. It might not have been intentional, of course, but violent magic has violent ends.

We asked few questions and they less even after that. And we reached the mountains, towering high, and a scene to which they shrugged off entirely. And we camped there, but a short trek through them.

And they said there was a river. On the other side of this range, and in this range was the mouth of it and Zhila’s lair. They had not the faintest idea where. And this was but a theory. I was not sure how raised the spirits of the others were, though I might have made a few subtle gestures as if mine were. I actually cared not. I did care for the world beyond the wall.

I accompanied Seezeit as she went to forage or to hunt, for she carried a bow. In either case, it was unspoken. She left a small camp we had made in the foothills, I followed, and she made no attempt to digress that I should do otherwise.

I left the other three alone. Hopefully they would remain so in the gathering night.

We had avoided the waterways. Puddles, that stream of the marshes, everywhere- we had passed them by- had we moved past.

For the water had eyes.


Elaborate as you like in between fire lands and mountains in your own posts. I apologize if I stepped on your plans for Lily, Asilynne.

Weasel Overlord
25th May 2006, 03:50 PM
Yeah. It's short...and ambiguous at the end. And tinged with Radiohead... I blame Fake Plastic Trees for making me emotional. Damn it, but Thom sings like an angel...*happy sigh*

she looks like the real thing
she tastes like the real thing
my fake plastic love

[color=darkgreen]Crouching in my own blood and gore, I puddled a finger in the swamps that were my home.

The death of the tree-spirit had touched me, to my own surprise. Oiyg, well, she had grown on me in a way that I had thought was not possible. I had become, and yes, I dared to speak the word, almost fond of her.

And after her death, though pain lanced through my shoulder, and through my entire body, I felt a strange peacefulness fall over me. Though there was physical pain, the hurt deep inside had dulled to a mere ache, stabbing over and over at my heart until I could take no more.

The one I loved, yes, for I loved him, was not one for me. And though it hurt, and stung, and sank me into abject misery to think this, I knew that it could never have been. He could never have fallen for me. Glaring at my reflection in the waters, I saw my true self staring back malevolently. I was a swamp-being. My essence was these waters, the mud of my life was not meant for any other.

But it did not mean that I couldn’t grieve for what I could never have. Shaking my head, a tear fell, star-like in the gloom as its path ended in a gentle ripple of the waters. The salt making no difference to the clarity of the water as it spread slowly outwards.

I felt like that solitary droplet, floating of a sea of despair and apathy, unable to escape, and being swirled about until only the barest part of myself remained to tell the tale, scraped and worn, but surviving.

Though I was of the swamps, I had felt a connection with Tryfan. I had felt it deep within my soul, tugging at my mind and body like an anchor tugging at a ship. But he was smitten with the girl.

The human. I could barely stop myself spitting as I thought of her, in his arms... Taking him from me...

He should have been mine...

I claw at my hair and eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks as my heart adjusts to the loneliness once more. Beat by slow beat, it grows chill and icy, but I do not want to be this way any longer... My heart longs to love, to feel loved.

My soul cries out for a partner. One to share my very being with. One who can accept me without reservations, for who I am, not for who he thinks I should be.

I sob, breath rattling and chest heaving, clutching at the ground, grasping at the mud that is my life, and my prison.

My knees throb from kneeling too long.
My head spins from a loss of blood.
My heart tears itself apart, screaming for love.

And I know that I will never feel this emotion. This love.

Pitching forward, I fall, into the mud and into myself.

And I do not want to leave.
I do not want to go back to the harsh, unloving reality of my world.
Tryfan does not love me.
Tryfan will never love me.
I wish I could be who you wanted...

But I am Eleiamae. The unloved one. And I shall die alone.

27th May 2006, 01:46 AM
I had an idea today for something interesting! Though I dont know how good itll be since its 1:30AM and Ive been up since 5am yesterday XD If I spell things wrong pay them no mind ^-^()

~~~Lily O'Keefe~~~
Truth and wisdom fade with time...

I lay quietly in our small camp, pretending to sleep, but really I was wide awake, my insides turmoiling. My mind was racing, thinking a million things at once, every one attached to a million feelings.
Hela was alone in the house, condition unknown....regret, frustration, desperation, helplessness.
The fire.....fear, shame, apprehension, unbalanced
These strange new people....wariness, mistrust, curiousity, hope
Tryfan....nervous, joy, fear, uncertainty

I twitched my fingers slightly as I lay, feeling the snug feel of the leather gauntlet for my crossbow. When the fire went from my arms, there it was, as if it never left. Yet another thing I didnt understand and couldnt hope to. But I was here, long ago, (it was only a few hours ago?) back in the Fire House I had come to the realisation that this was not a dream. But that had not made it easier to accept.

How sad I was. I remembered a time when the strange was accepted readily, adapted for, not a thing to be feared or upset about. But that was a different time, she a different person, and I could never be her again. Myself, but unreachable. Adults are supposed to be the wise ones, but we grow stupider with age, we forget whats most important. We forget how simple the pure truths of life really are. The world taints us, we feel to survive we must become the mostor we fight, we must misttrust those around us because we were done wrong by a few. We fear getting close to another human being for the pain one in the past has caused. We sell out our futures and live life barely living at all.
Whats happened to me... I thought somberly, my throat tightening. I was so confident, so happy, I trusted myself. I knew that I didnt have to know everything and for that I knew more than most. I knew I had a purpose, knew the meaning of life, knew that where I was was where I was supposed to be. Now I dont even know why Im anywhere.
Choking back my irrational tears born out of stress and frustration, I wished desperately for the times when I was wise. I wished I knew everything would be ok. I wished I wasnt so helpless.

And then suddenly I knew we were going to be fine. No matter what happened, no matter where this strange River place took us and what we encountered, I knew we could handle any obstacle together.
Standing up quickly I went over to where Tryfan lay, and gently nudged his shoulder. "Tryfan...." I whispered, and as he sleepily blinked at me I smiled.

A childs smile, and when I spoke, it was a childs matter of fact voice.

"We re going to be alright Tryfan, I just know it."

Heheheheheh yeah ^v^ You might have seen it coming or not but Lily unwittingly has shifted into Young Lily ^-~ I want to be able to communicate with all of us River Folk so my MSN messinger is outlawgirlasi@msn.com If you have MSN Weasel Id like to talk about our charries ^v~
Now Im going to sleep LOL

28th May 2006, 11:39 AM
= Joseph Faust =

I realized with a distraught and hopeless disposition the shape of my body in the wee hours of silence that occupied Seezeit and me. The hunt was narrow and the game scarce, made the more difficult a process by the fact that we were forced to avoid all watering holes where an animal or two might have congregated. I was at the point, now, I realized, that I would probably fell and devour a unicorn if it meant some habiliment. There was only so long you could fend off those human desires, dehydration and exhaustion which clawed at my consciousness. Though I had endeavored to discover more of this stranger, Seezeit, that had also failed, and so my pains were exemplified by ennui.

With each frail step I felt it building to crash fatally. I could no longer imagine how I had warded it away so long- pointedly guarding myself from the desire to eat, drink, and sleep- but that I realized it was necessary. My clothes had been soaked, were still damp, from the rains of prior and the undying mists of this land and I was full of dirt and grime. Clothes in irreparable state, sandals and by association, my own feet covered in muck. Now that I had this time to think about it, I was in a frustrated state of being.

But by all the impulse that drove me was that thirst. That undesirable and deadly thirst, fatal for its likeliness that she would see. I could not even take but a drink in this forbidding place. I feared water! It seemed so ridiculous, and the cracked lips, stinging with each movement, urged me for once to obey my bodily needs rather than to use such calculating logic. It was a war within, strained body and stressed mind, pressures, lies, all of them falling on one another and trying for the entire world to make a string of dominoes. Just to make that first step begged them. To give into greed was their purpose. And as the delusion grew thicker, like an exoskeleton over clarity, even logic began to sway from its rigid course towards fallacy.

I could tell I was growing meeker by the minute as I turned to distraction and denotation to calm my nerves. Fact, a statement of truth, this one declaring: she has capacity to manipulate water. I must drink water. And therefore, I could not go near the water. But it was no better. I scanned the horizon, the trees and the wood and used all of my senses, focusing and looking for prey. Deer, fowl, any sort of creature that might serve. The woods rang with the desperate twilling of birds sing-song and frivolous. But birds were no sort of meal for five. There was left me no means of keeping my mind from it. I would have cried out in agony, frustration and pause, had I not had sense not to make a due revelation to Seezeit just in what state I was, and what they, Tryfan and Lily, were likely of also. It had not been quite that arduous, not so lengthy a trek yet... but that made no excuse to this famine. The next yearning would be for civilization, a hot meal- in cities and with a normal life in which no one starved even for so short a time as this.

I was hopelessly struck with a poignant slap across the face by memory and fear. A phobia built ago on the seeds of weakness, timidity and sickness. That old nausea and those days, those three days alone I had in that forest, and vomit and spiraling dizziness. I remembered that and so it was with this multi-pronged assault that my defenses fell. It was my little paradox; my greatest fear doubled over on itself for what fearing it caused.

So was the epiphany: I realized that it was not this simple three-and-a-half-days fatigue but the greater compounding of these factors and those of the past. I had a headache, my vision was dim, and I was groggy. I was not suffering from dehydration merely in name, but in actual medical terms. My heightened senses had actually fooled me. My body structure so changed, I had not understood the symptoms until they reached the severity where they were noticeable against this new backdrop. Now it bludgeoned me, mindly clobbering with the blunt truth. And I realized water was no longer a casual matter of thirst, but survival.

And of course for irony there was a pool, and not listening to Seezeit's consummate warnings, swallowed up, I was fallen at the pool's side and leaning in for a drink. I lapped it up slowly, still present dew and rainwater. It might have been impure, but such was not my worry as of the moment. It was instead but the slow perfection, the non-rational notion that the water would somehow disappear and leave me without such. But it did not, and I kept my pace until the grappling hands of Seezeit pulled me out of my reverie, and into sitting position away from the pool. I stood up and stared her down, intending for all the world to drink more, that is, until I was more distracted by her hand (which came out of nowhere and with my reflexes so nurtured in incompetence by the nausea of my deed and the still-present sleepiness was not able to be parried) contacting with my face and leaving a pitiful red mark, replacing pale skin with a pink hot as sunburn. She growled, almost, her teeth bared and seething. "You idiot!" There was no need for further communication, and I pressed my own hand against my cheek, reminiscent of the other palm that had but been there several seconds before. But before I could retaliate verbally, she queried, shakily, "Your eye... it's changed color. How?"

I swiveled and there reflected at me were two eyes. One green-gray and the other deep blue and I tried to keep myself from gaping. I searched the ground at our feet, running my hands through the dirt until I came across that lens. How indeed? How had that dislodged it? What were the chances? But here I was, putting a continuous wear contact lens of green-gray back into my eye after wiping it casually on my similarly grimed shirt, thus negating any real use.

I stood and faced her, donned a murderous leer, and asked, "And you hallucinated? Correct? You saw nothing." I hoped she understood. Her features turned as if she was entertaining a reply, but then my gaze was distracted by a white form in the trees and before I knew it I had leaned around her and loosed my war fan, it whirling in the beast's direction.

We stood then, over the carcass of the dead and still majestic equine, its silver blood hemorrhaging and spilling across the rough terrain, the setting almost blasphemy for its glory. But there had not been even a whinny; not chance for it to express its death throes. And but this moment later, the brilliance of its horn had vanished, claimed by the pale flag of death.

Seezeit's responding gaze embodied several emotions. The first was anxiety, as her irises gleamed with a somber air. That sorrow too, that frustration. The third was terror. I returned hers with equal virility and asserted, "Assist me in dragging this corpse. We shall partake in a feast of sweet meat this evening."


Weasel Overlord
7th June 2006, 04:48 PM
[color=palegreen]~Tryfan Wen~
wow, he’s been neglected
I thought I was a fool for no-one
but Ooo baby, I’m a fool for you
the paradoxical loop of doomy woe

[color=palegreen]Woken in the night by the woman I had grown to love in such a short time.

She had shaken me gently. A soft touch indicative of her gentle nature, and everything about her that I loved.

Her voice, well, that seemed different at the time, but I had put it down to a mere awakening in the night, everything fuzzy about the edges. Nothing seemed to make sense when you are woken from a dream. And mine that night had been particularly spectacular.

Yet another dream of a Unicorn Blood spilled from the neck of this one. Silvery blood, which seemed to portend a darkness falling upon the forest, the River world.

But now I was awake. And, with the dragging, shlurping, dripping sounds that entered my ears, I felt like I had had one of those bizarre dreams, where you wake up after a nightmare, only to be still asleep, and then wake up again, ad infinitum. It was like a paradoxical loop which I was stuck in, haunted by that damn unicorn consistently until the beast gored me through with his bloody horn.

Shlurp. Eyes empty of sleep at last, I gazed in astonishment at that bloody unicorn. Dark with its own blood, I was perversely pleased to see the confounded beast dead, but I was also filled with the suspicion that the bugger could rouse itself at any time, and come shlurping after poor old me, determined to finish off the job it started in my dreams.

Shaking my head, I glared at the beast balefully. It’s eyes were clouded over with death, but not clouded enough for my liking. It’s beauteous mane was clotted full with its own blood, but I was not sated. It’s limbs were slowly being torn off and, with a delicious cracking sound, the bones breaking under the strain, they came apart from the body itself, leaking goo in the most satisfying way.

“I’ve got us some meat.” Mathias said, matter-of-factly and quietly, as if he didn’t care who heard him. “Tree-man, can you get us some wood?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I smiled gleefully.

“I most certainly can.” Standing up, I gave myself a moment to crow over the corpse, before getting spooked again and scuttling off into the forest. I swear, that thing looked at me!

Forgetting Lily and the unicorn for a moment, I traversed my realm happily, lost in the moment and the search. Letting off small tendrils of questioning, I determined which of the trees had dropped branch lately, and whether they would mind my taking of a few for our sustenance. Following my intuition, I found a goodly pile of dried wood; small branches adequate for our current need, and bundled them together with a long vine. Humming a little tune to myself, I was oblivious. Lost in my task.

So when the sharp pokes in the side came, I, taken unawares, dropped the branches and promptly squealed like a girl.

“I’m ticklish!!” I yelled, while trying to stop giggling and regain my manly composure. Scooping the branches up, I blushed slightly as I realised who was the ‘poker’.

“Oh, hey Lily! Um...you seem different...?” I looked at her questioningly. Surely she wasn’t as... short before. Or as, um, (blushing) undeveloped. My face went very very red and she smirked at me, in a very undirty way, which was odd, cause Lily had been somewhat implicating dirtiness over the last few days, and this change seemed odd to say the least. Coupled with the whole eleven-year-oldness that seemed to emanate from her, this change seemed to be significant in some way.

“Weren’t you...taller before?” Blushing again, I was certain that she could read my thoughts as she stared thoughtfully at me. Chewing on her lip, she twizzled a bit of her hair between her fingers and then smiled again.

“Yeah, I’m a bit changed.” She giggled. “But there’s no need to look sad about it! It’s funner like this...” Dashing up to me, she poked me once more before running off back to the camp. My brow furrowed slightly, as I attempted to stop myself thinking dirty thoughts.

Damn, she’s eleven! I grimaced and vowed to suppress all thoughts concerning Lily until she was at least returned to normal. I hoped that she would return, anyway. She had promised me some things that I was having trouble forgetting about, and which had become somewhat inappropriate considering the current circumstances.

Grasping my sticks, I wobbled my way back to camp, and to that delightful corpse (shudder) and a tasty meal.

Lobbing the bundle onto the ground, I went to slouch in a corner, as much as a wooded clearing could have a corner. Kicking at a rock, sulked and moped and smelled the delicious scent of my enemy cooking on a fire. Turning, I glared at the flames, where the malevolent eyes of the beast pierced me with its malevolent stare.

Flashing momentarily red, the fire licked at the unicorn’s eyes, engulfing them and blackening them to irreparable ashes where they could haunt my dreams no longer.

The smell of the meat was succulent, and no-one seemed to mind that we were about to devour the flesh of an innocent animal of legends. The unicorn was always a beast of purity, though I knew this one to be tainted. Lifting a large shank of meat, I bit into it with a satisfying crackle and tear. The flesh was juicy, untainted thankfully, and we all ate with relish around the fire, enjoying our first proper meal in days.


Yeah, lame ending. So sue me.

19th June 2006, 10:21 PM
The Terraforming and The Million-Voice Repose

It came, as all such portents do, as a bump in the night. There was no eerie silence. In it the insects stirred and chirped calamitously. This was no calm dusk- it was not your sure evening or your smooth twilight- but alive with the sounds of the forest and the plain, and of an island which was full of life despite its haughty residents. Even with the late Fae, the presence of viridian entities was not lessened. Nymph and nature-walker alike could sleep soundly in this norm. So when the first echoes of that first hint entered the picture with a sound of a snapping twig... not a human moved, even those awake, and not one was ready for the coming monsoon.

It rose like a phantom, a fata morgana of a shape, and seemed all too unreal. It formed a circle, soundlessly, and only then when birds were in flight did it become noticed. By then the opportunity for action had gone. The only choice was reaction on it, for with motion the entirety of the water table was stirred for her one act. The dancing grasses and the trees, winded by the force of it and split apart if in her way, were as minor characters in some grand drama. The major characters have been introduced. The villainess is waiting for her barrier's completion; like a white-crested wave, or was it that, in a sea of green land. Here lay her device, her boundary, her limit; for with that wall, it was assured that only that which could fly, and only one, her frivolous, would make any means of escape. It served as a tool of intimidation, too, as those human faces watched it enclose them, liquid streaming from that Aquan shield. They were trapped, and almost literally: drowned rats.

In a lair, in the mountains yonder lay that pool of scrying. She had etched the runes in the seeing water and readied herself, watching through her water's influence (for her domain did only extend as far as its puddles). It was by no means a perfect well, a hodgepodge of pebbles and rocks of all sizes, but refinement was an unnecessary luxury. It looked feeble, like any other pond in stone; but it was hers, it was this one, which was all that mattered. And so she had seen a blonde-haired man and a scramble-face twin about; she had searched for the others but they had been cleverer. Still, it had only been a step and a skip step about a pooling trail of blood, one of her unicorns, or in her lands at least, to find their little camp. They had come so close to her mountains. Her river they had neared, now riverbed as its power had been usurped, its reason for being walking about like a common piece of human filth. She'd been a human once. But now she was a shadow, a shell, a doppelganger. She was a gray-skinned freak and her own memories, dreams, dashed to the wind. No, this was no campaign of greed; this was utter hatred, to those humans that had entered. They would be fools if they thought she had done it herself, for she had not. It was an accident, like slipping through the cracks, into the plane beneath theirs or from whichever sort of place they had come. A solar system far or a parallel world- for such was possibility- made no difference in the larger scheme. For that harpy formerly known as Zhila, the only good human was a dead human. There was not another card to play but this. If her actions were suicide, then she went to her peace with the world, to be put from her wretched misery.

It was no surprise to her when she passed wall, through and through, gray skin dull. Her eyes did not burn like fire. Their flame had gone out and in their place stood what might as well have been two empty sockets, but which was really a brace of eyes that had seen far too much of the world. She strode not quickly but not slowly, not powerfully or gallantly, but purposefully; she had a reason yet to be and she had the devices to fulfill it. But if it had not been beating she would have had no heart. If she would not have twitched as those at the camp prepared themselves, one could have hypothesized her to be sans hearing. She was mute, certainly, though the curl of her lips told all that was necessary: intent to obliterate her opposition. It was her mantra, her every step, and her last shred of dignity. For that could not be found in her wrinkled carapace or her wiles. She had none. The time for tricks was done. The dance was over. What would follow would be a bloodbath- hers or theirs- until one side stood dead. She saw the extras, those two recruits from the other side, and it drew not a smirk from her apathy. Even her appearance made no difference, for they knew each other without a word.

There are two types of battles in this world. There is a public fight. One side or the other, both seem aristocrats, flaunting abilities like rapiers and making it seem as if the gruesome parts of life were to be played out on some stage. Both parties strut, throw their weight around, and try to make a point of style, of panache. Then there are the private melees. Frenzied, quick, a brawl between an ever-changing winner and loser until one lies dead. A fray like that is one of not heroism, nor bravery, but cowardice and dirty blows and the cheapest shots around. It is to survive that matters here, when the life of one can be lost so fast. And the greatest trophy is the head of your enemy on a pike. This was truth. It was a personal war, not a jest. That was what ensued this day.

A spout of water is thrown forth, a deluge- a woman shape-shifting near, to a wolf again- and its dirt blonde-haired target moves with some measure of agility. War fan drawn, spear drawn, newcomers (the demon scouts) melting like a foul toxic sludge. It brings some shock, but not much surprise warranted due to conditions, when they leave themselves piles of ooze and slither over, appendages and ears and eyes and mouths floating in the goo, and entangle about her legs. "You trespass in my lands and you receive as you deserve!"

She washes them away furiously and strikes the druid-like, pinning him to the ground with her water and bruising his hide. But her concentration breaks as she is forced to contend with a vengeful beast, down upon her with claws and biting ferociously, first blood as the animal tears into her right leg. She kicks it mercilessly, ruining its hold, and attacks its unprotected eyes with water, blinding it temporarily as it frantically shakes its head. "This is no end. You will not survive my domain."

The twins in human form again and words, ripe and almost without language, flowing forth like the disgruntled sounds of the boar, but smooth. The water listens and her next-thrown torrent freezes in midair and clatters to the ground and fragments. With the opportunity allowed the woods-runner is up and swinging his spear with wild abandon, she manipulating her water to parry like a sword of its own. He slashes through it, dashing her garments (once a robe, now tatters) but not digging into the skin as she nimbly moves back. The fan sails over her head, missing only for her dive, part of her escaping the blow of Tryfan. "You brought yourself here; it was not my hand. It was but a tear between worlds. It just took a step where the current was good for you to arrive here."

Now the three descend upon her and she soars skyward, borne by a pillar of the liquid. She sails above, pelting them from range with whip-like tendrils. Bruises about their skin, their faces lashed, and the wolf whelping in pain is the portrait. The twins, out of reach, but the other two find themselves in pain too. They are all tiring quickly in this humidity and with but scant nourishment. She lays further into them, but the twins swirl about in their gel-like form again, up her cyclone of water, and twist into her lungs. She chokes and expels them but tumbles from her advantageous high ground, catching herself only with a bed of water, and muffled amongst her aggressors. "I should have kept away, let you wither, and not thought your power as a tribute to exemplify my control..."

As she struggles, the spear-wielder lands a severe slash across her thigh. The fan slices there too, and she tumbles to the ground, temporarily disabled. She screams, and in its echo comes a spiraling spray of created-rain. The oozes have tainted it with their substances and the acid stings the skin of the others, groaning in pain and inept as she, tamed by her own rage. The wall grows lower and spreads forth, she using its excess to push waves at them, collecting it again and again, and knocking them to the ground where the very force of the water chokes all of their lungs and bruises their bodies in its repulsion for their forms. They fight its push, the young couple finding themselves out of its track; the twins speak again as they flow away, from afar, shouting in accent the means for division. Winds push back, returning her own and allowing that deceiver to roll away. He stands, and wolf turns to eagle, swooping towards. "The Fae gave you weapons when their will was still theirs. But they were mine at the end, when they died."

He tosses his fan- it finding its mark and causing her neck to spurt a blood black in this light- and the other charges, spear readied, and she but nearly blocks it. He duels with her, and her strength is failing her. But he too is limping from the lashes of that whip-like water, and the bird flies with a stumble in air, and Joseph relents as a bruise leads to an incision, blood dripping down a long-since-soiled black tee. The others bleed too, dashed against the ground and the twins are quite spent. But there is no halting and though death is near to them, its pull is instead being gradually pushed to her.

She strikes, concentrated blasts of it, to their skulls; Lily is pushed from the sky, transforming again human as she strikes the ground. She clutches her head for the migraine caused there. And her battered body is worse still. She is barely walking. Joseph has all but collapsed for his own headache, though he galumphs forward, a step at a time, and Tryfan too, in best condition of the three. The twins wheeze violently from the strike she has landed to their chests. The scene is grim, the tangibility of it quite clear. Both sides bleak, dry of hope, and exhausted.

One last effort is needed. These five, they have the will to live. A metamorphosis to a greater eagle, majestic this time, and all the more for its wounds, and his spear raised high in defiance; the fan sails through the air restlessly, even at each attempt of hers to block it. They close in upon her as she can but back up at a pace that does not serve any escape. She can hardly hold her weight. The oozes are again about her ankles and this time she lets out a dire howl. Her feet begin to dissolve as acidic material eats away at them, the oozes devouring her hungrily. Suddenly Tryfan is at a side, and then the pike digs into her lower chest as she looks at the blood in awe of her own fatality. But her eyes are better turned elsewhere, for she can do little as a bird of prey gores her eyes and ruins her resolve, her muttering in anguish at her utter blindness.

She makes a last fatal gesture and the water wall collapses into nothingness as she sucks it inward, preparing some defense in her last moment of desperation. She can live blind, if she lives. But she can only cry out in pain as her arm is severed clean from its socket by that wicked fan. She throws out her arms, spread eagle, and ignores the acid and her own innards spilling from that great gap by Tryfan's piercing blow. She is alive for a moment: they feel it leech at their souls, and in all, their thirst is un-sated, as they feel the water in their bodies sapped from them. It is siphoned from everywhere.

Trees fall into ashen piles. The grasses are a field of gray until they collapse into dust and blow away. The cries of a hundred myriad of animals of all kinds, death throes that haunt the nature-walker's ears and even those of the hardest bastard, the boy-with-contacts, are spouted into the night like the bellowing of demons. The roar is deafening as all water disappears and those foes of hers, they hang onto to their dire thread of life, the oozes disbanding and the others prostrated as they pull themselves away from the fold, escape the whirlpool centered upon her. Sands whorl and whirl with a ferocity but they open not their eyes and keep their ears covered. But they have heard enough. They have heard her bitter words at the end, after everything has been blighted and everything has died around her. As she destroys what her waters nurtured in one fell swoop. Beautiful equine, avian kind, and mammals are atwitter and then lying dead by her fruitless revenge. Only tatters, now, yes; not even a vulture can feast, for not even a buzzard could survive the purge. A thousand voices... a million voices... an insurmountable number are not allowed even their last breaths as they fall into nothingness. And it is all naught too. And even she, after her own shriek of agony is loosed, so much deeper than all the others and with more a history, states: "I am nothing." And she is. Only by their resistance do they stop her madness from racking them in the same.

But now it is five forlorn wights, shells of men and women, breathing but just, at the epicenter of refuse and sand. The mists have dispersed and finally: a zephyr overhead, a breeze, and the reverberation. Somewhere in the distance the surf crashes against the coast and its fragrance beckons.


Now that the namesake of the RPG is dead, the next chapter can begin. The Jungle is still in the planning stage. I am going to do a final post for Joseph later, likely; the rest of you should do one also if you can find the time. But inevitably the only way to go is towards the wall and through it to escape the desert now created.

21st June 2006, 12:55 AM
*sneaks in*

Tell me if Ryan's coming... I have a bunch of things I'm supposed to be doing for him...

This post kind of backtracks at the beginning, sorry about that, I've been meaning to post but haven't gotten around to it... Oh, and I'm falling in love with The Dreamside; I'm listening to the song "Open Your Eyes" while I'm writing this ^_^;;;

Sara Raize
Open your eyes now, my love...

[color=#a0ffff]I awoke, my whole body numb in it's entirety, and realized that, for the first time since entering this strange land, I was completely dry and there was no hint of humidity in the air. It was very airy... I opened my eyes and saw moonlight sparkling on the granite floor of a cave. It was dazzling; the cave itself was open, and the breeze kept it from being claustraphobic, at least at this point. A passage went deeper, dissappearing through rock into silent darkness. I lay on a ledge near the opening, though I could not see anything outside.

I tried to move; my limbs fought with me, and I wondered how long I'd lain here, immobile. The cold, tingling sensation was coming in waves, now, and I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. Perhaps cirulation was returning to my body... or, was it leaving? The sensation should be becoming weaker if the condition was improving... I looked around, searching for something, anything, that would help me to my feet, but I saw nothing but glittering granite walls... so bright in the moonlight...

I saw it all in exquisite detail, and I lay there motionless, staring at the walls, then at the floor, and finally to what I could see of the stars outside. Like tiny, perfect diamonds laying in rich black velvet... I could see them like I had never seen them before; each had its own tint of color, and each blazed through the dark right into my mind, pinpricks of concentrated light, so bright, so intense... If I could just raise my hand, I was sure that I could touch them... slowly, my arm came to life, and I looked at my hand. Each little line and crease that made its way along my skin was so very real, so very intense. I felt I could be lost for hours following each line with my eyes...

Movement outside broke my trance, and I moved to my feet so suddenly I was caught offguard. I braced myself for the usual rush to the head that would accompany such a foolish move, but none came. Instead, the numbness was gone, and I felt limber and mobile, more so than I had felt since I was very young. I turned my eyes to the source of the disturbance, and the dark figure stood there, completely motionless yet graceful, like a shadow frozen in time. I stared, knowing that everything in my mind should be screaming for me to run though those instincts were, I now knew, forever silent. There was no danger that I should fear now... though what that meant, I had no idea.

Fear is an instinct for those who are prey... you are preditor, now, you have no fear for anyone but the greater hunters, and they are few, my new instinct said, rising to the surface. This was so strange... I stepped backwards, quickly, and cowered, shielding my face, trying to block it out.

He lifted my chin, and I let my arms drop as he led me into the moonlight. I opened my eyes, and I could see them reflected in the mirror of his dark ones... They were blue, but such a light blue that they were nearly colorless. My face itself was practically colorless, almost glowing in the faint illumination from the heavens and framed by the burning color of my hair. My hair itself was fuller than before, richer in color, though I couldn't tell yet. It was as if all of the imperfections of my body had been washed away, and I was left with a perfect porcelain shell...

That's what I had become, wasn't it? I was only a shell... it explained my strange, detatched, empty feeling... Just a perfect little doll...

I closed my eyes and blinked, expecting tears to flow but finding nothing. Only the emotion echoing in the vacant shell I had become...

"Is this not what you wanted, beloved, to be flawless, to be lovely beyond compare?" He whispered, slightly taken aback by my reaction.

"Beloved?" I asked. "I don't know you... how can you know what I want? I don't know myself... but, there are others... where are they? They might know me..." My memories stirred beneath the surface, and I reached for them, but what knowledge I held was too far to regain yet... "I must find them, the others..."

He shook his head. "No, they are doomed, the River will not let them live... I had to rescue you, you who turned to me always..."

I looked at him with my soulless eyes. "You are the shadow, the night, aren't you?" It all made sense, now. He smiled, gently. "You have always known me, Sara, and you took me inside of you to shield yourself from harm... Now, I have made you safe for eternity."

"Sara..." I whispered. Yes, my name... part of who I was... a beginning, if nothing else. I knew my name... and I knew that part of this was what I had wished for; I had wished to forget the past.

"The past is gone... What I wished... and now I have the future before me to discover who I am, not who I was..." I murmured. "No, to create who I am. I am not who I was... and I know not who I was... a new chance..." I turned to the Night. "Thank you..."

He smiled again, kissed me gently on the forehead, and disappeared. "If you must find them, then go; I have made you partially immune to the curse Zhila will lay on them. Just go, and do not forget to seek me before dawn comes, for the day's light will kill you. My protection comes with a price, I fear... but I can take you away to my realm before the sun can touch you, at least while you travel the wastes..." his voice lingered on the wind.
I watched from the shadows as they fought the River, wishing to help them... but knowing that I couldn't. Why, I didn't know, but I didn't want them to see me like this. They would eventually, yet that didn't stop me from hanging on to every last second of hiding I had left...

And then it was over, and Zhila laid her curse, destroying everything but my three former companions and the two that they traveled with. They themselves whithered, denied the water that their human bodies needed to survive, and I... I was revealed. Eyes, barely alive, turn slowly to me, standing, changed but not like them...

"The battle is ended," I whispered. "And the horizon streches before us... come, my friends, we have a journey ahead..."

12th July 2006, 07:44 AM
Hee hee hee.

(Since you're posting irrelevant SPAM entries Jobie, i'll help you out with it)

12th July 2006, 09:20 AM
Sorry if this sucks, I just worked all night and Im trying to stay up one more hour so I wont wake up too early again x.x Also sorry it took so long guys x.x
~~Young Lily~~
Even the strangest things make sense in the eyes of a child...

I vaguely knew that once I would be worried. We were leaving the River behind. The point which I came into this world was far behind, perhaps never to be seen by my eyes again. Thus, the only chance we had of ever getting back to the real world (what was the real world?) would possibly be forever out of our reach. Also, I knew the River. Intimate with its trees and its calm cool waters. The mists always wrapped me in a blanket of peace, it was my alone time, my only sanity admist the bustling of human society. And now we were following these strange people to an unknown place.
I knew once I would be worried. Filled with fear and apprehension. But this was just a fleeting thought, wherever I went I was home, I knew that, though she had once forgotten.
She will remember again, one day.
Suddenly my mind flashed back to another Young One. The fire child Hela. She was still in that house, because Old Lily was too scared to go back in, she wanted out and forgot everything else through her fear. Poor Old Lily, she had been through so much, she forgot how to deal with simple things. And everything, to me, was a simple thing.
There was no debating, I knew instantly what had to be done. A desperate feeling ran through me, knowing I had to get back to the house of Fire. We had already travelled too far to get back, but I knew I couldnt leave the River without her. It would not be fair, or right.
"No!" I called out, my little girl voice defiant as it rang out in the misty dreamlike world. I made a dive for the invisible border separating the River and...this strange other world, determined to go back for her, the innocent little girl that was so much like me. But strong arms held me back, and in one fluid motion lifted me up. Tryfan. He held me in his arms and started walking with the rest of the group.
"No Tryfan! No please let me go! We cant leave Hela!" I looked into his eyes, tears brimming within, but he sighed sadly and looked away. "We cant go back." He said quietly. "We can never go back."
"Noo...." the tears I rarely saw sprang forth, and I buried my face in his warm shoulder. "Its not fair..." But I couldnt cry in despair for long, I vowed that Tryfan had to be wrong.
I will go back one day... I thought defiantly, as I watched the invisible barrier shiver and coalsce into mist.
No matter what anyone says, I will find a way.

16th July 2006, 11:05 AM
A post long overdue is this; the Jungle is regrettably on the backburner.

= Joseph Faust =

She stood there, sounding the need for a journey. I was withered, but a husky grumble signified the barest hints of laughter; in all Zhila had done, she hadn't broken so well the will of the only ones she had wanted to blight. The water still coursed through my veins and I imagined the others' too. But that was not what was on my mind at the moment. It was instead the figure- one I had known as Sara who was no longer- standing like a china doll with irises shining like twilight. What would have made any other look fragile made her look inhuman. She was terrifying in a way, but only because she was the first.

I wanted to say words to her. I wanted to assure myself that she was as she had been, somewhere within that carapace. But all I could see was an aura of apathy about her features, like mine, and I then comprehended what it was that drove my own to be so insufferable. Any inklings of like, of lust, burnt in the fire of her hair and floated upwards as paper sparks for just a little while before plummeting and going out as my stomach did. With senses beyond that of normality, I too could sense the taste of power, idling beneath her frame like a flame: so haughty a blaze it was. She was as lifeless still as a marionette and she hung on the strings of indifference; the pyre that was once her emotions had been snuffed. I let the words slip from my tongue.

I walked on coals. I could sense all of them and their status, as if Zhila's fall had heightened my power and perhaps this was true. But I could tell anyone that it was not a pleasant fragrance or a tinkling of bells to hear the hopes of a few come crashing down. I had already given up and gladly discarded any need for homeward bound travels, or at least I thought I had. But Lily was not absent of her feelings, her desires, and her dreams crushed; she would and wanted desperately to return to our world which seemed to trail farther into the darkness of our minds with each breath, step, shudder, and sweat drop. She cried out and Tryfan comforted her- and my facade allowed me enough to see what they had was blessed- or tried to. That was what he wanted to do, at least. But the phrase that came was finality incarnate.

She spoke of Hela and I, betraying my lack of sensitivity, chuckled silently to myself. Hela, somehow, I felt, was not here. That house would have taken her, swallowed her up, and spat her out somewhere on the edges of all reason. And then deep within the cogs of my ever-whirling factory of a brain, it all clicked. Spinning tangents, seeming unrelated, seeming unimportant, "Hela-" "fire spirit-" half-zombie legs and malnourished build reminiscent of a certain: was she? She seemed so different and out of place with this all, that; but if she was...

"Lily!" I bellowed, getting her attention through this curtain of darkness. For it was still eventide and we only walked by the full moon overhead. We feared nothing in this great expanse of dead sand dunes. Travel in morning would be worse.

Lily fell back, still looking distraught but determined too, "Yes?"

"Tell me about the house and about Hela. Speaking her memories will ease your mind." I tried my best to be beguiling and it was seemingly potent. Lily looked momentarily frustrated at our inability to return for Hela, and then she took it in her stride.

"Alright." And so she spoke it like it was a novel, remembering almost every word. I thanked her intermittently for being so obliging and encouraged her on when she wished not to. She was growing weary of it, though, and suspicious of what I had wanted to know it for. I did not stop her. I even hid my surprise when she spoke of the carvings which she called "almost Scandinavian" and of the phrase heard, "my father's dagger." Perhaps it was not surprise, but recognition.

She finished and I smiled, sheepishly, and intoned, "She was a brave soul, Hela. Maybe she is safe, now, at this end. She was a hider. If any were to escape a fate like Zhila's, I would bet on her to accomplish the feat."

"She just went through the door and was gone. To find her father, she said." Slight worry for Hela's well-being crossed her face.

"I am sure she found him. And then she is safe." Lily seemed somewhat eased. She went forward to be again with Tryfan. I kept my gaze focused all around, watching and waiting as the rays of the sun washed over the sands, hillsides above the first. I contemplated briefly and let the strings tie themselves together in an eternal, circular knot. So Hela was Hel, then, or so I believed. And she had left the world. But somehow I dared think there was more to be encountered with that woman in the future, or so she would be now, if she had met her father as I had guessed. It was all a hypothesis, but my gut ached with intuition and logic too. Maybe I was indeed brooding as if I were Hela's father, now, taking one scrap of information and discerning an entire story from its contents.

But I put it from myself and instead watched all that there was to see. The five of us looked to the horizon. At that spot, far in the distant, coming up from behind the wall it was. Daybreak came with first light... in all its scarlet glory.

Clouds gathered almost out of thin air, or at least we had never seen them there. And then it began to rain.

It took us hours perhaps, a lifetime of what was left in time's course here. We all slipped in the mud at least once, clumsy or agile as each of us was. Seezeit and Kaesaht reveled in the muck. There was a terrible bubbling noise from somewhere far away, unknown of origins. Or at least it was until we saw the flood that rushed over the sands, ocean water rising of its own free accord. We scrambled up the knoll, almost to the wall. The roar of the seas would have swallowed up any of our attempts to speak or even scream. We all just followed instinct of survival and ran. As the deluge fell and high water grew closer, we began to worry when any tumbled into the mud. But even as the overflow ringed the base of the knoll, we were at its peak and the wall where a lucky crack had became one larger and crumbled the foundations. We hurried into the jungle air beyond.

Zhila's domain sank as Atlantis or the old world in the great flood. The water flowed onto this new terrain and formed a slight beach before the rise ceased. We took cover under the trees and watched and listened to the washing of the waves and the groan of stone as the weakened wall tumbled into the rising tide.

We rested there, even in daylight, and the others slept beneath the canopy. I pretended to. When the world of dreams quickly closed over them, I sauntered exhaustedly into the wilderness.

I did not look back.


Weasel Overlord
30th July 2006, 02:00 PM
wheee! *crashes in with post* this was a long time in da makage...

in which all things come to an end, and Eleiamae says a final goodbye to her love

I had watched their battle from afar with eager eyes. The River hag was finally defeated, and I felt the group’s exultation as a beacon striking the skies.

The consequences, oh, they had not thought of those. Zhila. Dead. And now...

Now, there would be no more swamps, no more water, no more world.

Hidden in the trees that were left, I observed with a strange calm as the small, ragged group coalesced in front of the swirling barrier that marked the end of the River World, the end of my world.

Dispassionately, I regarded my only love gather his only love into his arms and stride through the quivering portal to the beyond.

A split second, and I considered following. Where this path lead, I did not know, but, shaking my head, I knew it was not for me.

My place was here.

Born of the swamps, I would die with the swamps and have no regrets, save that my love could never be a reality, and that it would, finally and inevitably, kill me.

But I had come to terms with that already, though it pained me so to admit it. Too many haughty, untouchable years had taken their toll on me, and the struggle within upon Tryfan’s rejection of me had an irreparable effect on my mind, leaving me unable to accept his lack of love, and sending me in the direction of a lovelorn child having a tantrum.

But now I was at peace. My love had gone, the pain flared once, then, deadened by the experiences of the past months, it flickered into nothing once more; quashed as if it never were.

A single tear rolled down my cheek, free of any glamour for the first time since I had laid eyes on Tryfan. I gazed down at my bulrush fingers in disgust, then wiped away the tear harshly, sniffling slightly before I took a hold of myself.

Leaping from the tree in a single, graceful movement, I landed cat-like among the last remnants of leaf litter and swamp water that were my home. Kneeling, I scooped up a handful of leaves and held them to my chest.


But home was gone now; gone the same way as my love, and Eleiamae could never follow. She was not meant for love, and she cries now, for a final time, accepting her fate as she grasps for the tiny knife coddled in the small of her back, strapped secure by her belt.

Tearing at the strapping, the knife comes free, blade glinting sharp in what’s left of the sun’s light.

Weak now, it gives barely enough light to illuminate the scrap of land left.

Yellowing, fading, the sun’s light blinks out, as if someone flicked the mystical light-switch of the universe.

And the world went dark...

19th August 2007, 12:44 AM
Can you send this to the RPG archives? Its too good to lose :>

Weasel Overlord
19th August 2007, 09:30 AM
Hot damn, I sure can. :D :D *archives*