For three days and two nights the sun seemed to be dim, and did not shine and overpower the darkness that roamed the lands of Imythess. The moon did not shine either and on, this, the third night it was not even visible. It had withdrew itself, the motherly form of holy light that watched over the land like a guardian would his master, because she knew what the night had in store. The canvas that usually was a light blue filled with bundles of white fluffy clouds was black, blanketed with dark charcoal complexion colored clouds that smothered the light of the diamond resembling stars, that were scattered about the dark abyss of emptiness. Tears fell from the heavens above, where the God’s fought and threw down sparks of light and glory that struck the earth, like a hand did the disobedient face of a child. A light would fill the hollow darkness for a split second and the world would gasp for a breath as it was revealed, then it would seep back into darkness, as quick as it was lit. The rain fell heavy, like a blanket of pellets, thick and sound.

It was within a plain, where the slender finger’s of God weaved through the tall blades of grass, and blessed the harvest of nature. It was where the soil was a dark rich color and was very fertile. A form, found at the hairline of the forest entered the sea of rippling grass. The form was tall, and walked fast and gracefully. The thick soil beneath her form was wet, nearly a swamp like soil that oozed into a liquid form when the surface was disturbed with weight. She stumbled, felling herself drained of energy and will to move on forward. She wore a thick and long cloak, with a hood that veiled the face of a woman. She was a silver elf, a mysterious and yet beautiful young woman. She had seen and endured twenty three hundred winters, but was known to be twenty-three in human years, but she appeared 21, and her features would mature nor fall away no more. No wrinkles would be found on her body, and few scars were visible, except one, which was hidden by the veil of darkness that her hood cast.

The form stumbled, falling into the deep mush, bedded with wet grain that had fallen and wilted under the rain, bowing to the God’s above and admiring their strength and power. She did nothing to catch her fall, but accepted her weakness. She fell face first into the grasses grasp. She rolled over onto her back, letting the tears cleanse her face and fallen form from the mud that caked her cloak and face. She brought a black-gloved hand over her bronze complexioned face, which appeared to be a pale ivory on this night, wiping the dark mud from her face. She sighed; her features shining throw the dark soil. She had high cheekbones, thick luscious lips that were pressed together to prevent soil-infected water to enter her mouth, naturally arched eye brows that made her almond-shaped eyes appear more open and she has long thick lashes that frame two gleaming sapphires of green. Her eyes are like a thousand green and golden leaves stirring around a dark center, and within her eyes dances turmoil and lack of trust and despair.

A blanket of dark brown curls frame her slender and sculptured face. The curls collect droplets of the rain and her hair seems to appear like its covered in glitter. Beneath the blanket of luscious curls are two ears, tipped, and revealing her as the child of an eleven heritage. Her curvy form that is wrapped within the over-sized cloak begins to take form as the mud cuddles close to her body, molding it and cradling it in the soft silkiness of the soil. She closes her eyes, her face completely cleansed of the dark muddy matter. Her lips slightly separate as she finds herself thinking, calm and at peace as she lays in the now warm mud. Lightening lights the darkness that she seems under her lids, and memories play over and over as thoughts flood her mind. Like silent movies in black and white, she replays the days when he lived, when he was her angel from above. Her eyes flickered open, but he was no more. Victim to mourning she was, a prisoner to despair. Her body was limp; inside she was hollow and cold. And even though the night was mainly silent, except the howling wind, she could hear it, the silent trumpets of death, and the drums of war: Perhaps, an internal war, more so than a physical one. She touched her jaw, where a thin fine line was: A scar, from her near death experience.

“Oh, if only I wouldn’t have hesitated,” she thought to herself. “Perhaps, he would be here, sheltering me from this broken hearted storm that rages within the heart of this world, this new home to me,” she said aloud, as if hoping someone would reply, even though she bore the knowledge that no one would, because she was alone. Haunted by solitude she lay, offering her life to the winds. “Take the breath from my lung and unite me with him, the only one worthy of my presence.” She raised her arms to the sky, but they fell as she winced. She opened her cloak, peering down at her black clothing, and the area where her bronze flesh was white and caked in a blood and dirt. She winced than let her body go limp. She wore black attire. Black boots up to her knees, and black silky pants that were clingy and fitted to her form. The pants went over her hips were it meet a belt, that was stripped of all it’s belongings. She wore a white under-blouse that was rather thin when wet. It had thick straps over her shoulders and had a deep square neck, she wore it untucked. Over it she wore a black corset, tightly laced in the back with black ribbon. It had no sleeves or straps and supported her breasts and posture. She lay, ready to die, she had accepted that her death be of this and she closed her eyes, waiting the chariot of God, to take her to him… And as she waited, she fell unconscious. And in her dream, she was with him, and a smile bestowed upon her unconscious form.

Vernon's venomous green eyes strared up and the clouds which wept their tears upon the earth. The rain came down hard and the dark cloouds seemed to cover the entire sky giving no hope of ever letting up. Vernon's green soaked fur hund dowards from the weight of the water. The smell that came from him was one that made a wet dog smell like fragrant flowers. The rain seemed, if anything, to have improved the rat like creature's stench. It was about the closes to a clean bath that he would take. Vernon did take bath's regularly the the fact that it was in the waters of the marsh did not help others tolerate his foul smell more. Why the Vernon did not like the idea of a cold shower of relatively clean water, he loved the mucky waters that reminded him so much of the place he could call home. Vernon moved through the mud with practiced ease. No shoes covered his clawed feet. The strange creature wore little more than a bland soaked tan shirt and an equally soaked tan pair of pants.

On vernon's back was a backpack filled with rotted foods which pleased Vernon and his pets. A small bundle of fur crawled from out of Vernon's bag and made a climb to Vernon's shoulder with a cunk of molded cheese in his mouth. The brown furred rat did not mind the rain. Ritz nibbled on the cheese as he rested himself on Vernon's shoulder. Mitz did not want to come out of the bag. The vampire bat preffered to stay in the bag and munch on rotten goods.

Vernon's trip here did have a purpose. He intended to find a Gryphon's nest and steal an egg. He didn't have room in his bag for so large an egg, but could make the room if needed. He could also simply carry the egg if there was no apparent threat of it's mother or father rushing to it's defense. Vernon figured that he would be able to handle them quickly with his sword. Vernon would have prefered a job that required less work, but it was still easy money compared to other things he could be doing. Aside from searching for funds, Vernon needed to find the last rider, War. He doubted War would be found out here though. It was likely that war was in Taras, the Taras arena to be specific.

Vernon paused in his tracks as he heard Artemis' cry over the clatter of rain. The rain drowned her words and their meaning. All he knew was that she was calling out for some one or something. Perhaps she was proesting to his foul odor. Vernon's emerald eyes quickly turned upon her to see her raise her arms to the crying heavens only to fall back down feeblely to the ground. She was lying on the ground, but made no effort to get off of the mucky grounds. Surely this was not what one would think of as the best place to take a nap. Vernon walked over slowly curious as to if this creature were dying or dead. It was not like that she was dead given that she had called out only seconds ago.

When Vernon stood over her he gazed down at her face. A smile rested there. The gentle rise and fall of her chest told Vernon that she was alive. What was she so happy about? Vernon nuged her with his foot hoping to learn why one such as her self was ot here. Perhaps she might even no where to find a gryphon's nest. Ritz scampered down and jumped upon her body. His tiny feet made there way past her chest and carried him unto her face. Occassionally he dropped bits of cheese as he crawled across her body.

( :blink: Took me a few hours though, but that was longer than I thought it would be. :nod: )

((Ehh.. It's not my best work, but it's a decent reply.. Sorry for the short crappiness!))

As she lay still, in the cold, wet mud she sensed a presence, one that was not there before. She found enough strength to lift her head but in doing so it drained her strength and her once light head fell back into the mud wish a thud. The mud had formed around her body, the soil becoming compact beneath her form. The wind stirred the scent of rain and with it came a scent that was no longer absent, the stench of a creature, one that would soon linger closer till hovering over the woman. She just waited, not caring that someone, or something lingered near but instead she closed her eyes and took deep breath calming herself, and preparing her heart and soul for death.

Is thus death that rides in a stench as musty as a rotten body, decomposing in the blanket of light filtered down to earth by God’s right eye? In a silent air-borne chariot do you come to take me away? I have yet to hear the breath of your silent trumpets, which would blow into the air fumes of poison and sin, or is it myth, that you stand over the person and allow horns caked in your breath to be audio to mortal ears? Her eyes fluttered, are you here to rob me of my memories and my principles? If be it, I give them to you, no need to rob me of them, for I need them no longer, she said softly. There is no more reason to live, for I lived for love and love is no absent. She frowned gently for such an act drowned her of strength and was a true symbol of her weakness in this very moment of lost hope. She gagged at the stench, which had become stronger and heavy, as the wind did not blow it away no longer. She felt a shadow being cast over her and she trembled.

Does thou place a kiss upon thy lips and poison my breath with a taste of slavery to your very own essence of evil? She hesitated to open her eyes to look him in thee eyes. Or does thou condemn me with one glimpse in my eye? Is that how you shall rob me of my memory and hope? How you know my past and my doom? She slowly opened her eyes, revealing two green glowing gems that twinkled with what seemed to be tears, or maybe it was the water from her lashes. She smiled softly, but it didn’t last long. The form that looked down at her was dark; there was no detail but just the silhouette. She bit her bottom lip thinking for a moment then spoke softer than ever almost as if she wasn’t sure about what she was about to say, I give myself to you. Take me away to where darkness is the only trait about me, where I can live soullessly. I have sinned and live no longer in his presence, take my life, but. She said abruptly, pity me not. In her last words pride and courage was found, the things her other words lacked, but twas apart of her soul. She was raised in a place so dependent of nature that they grew to evolve in spirit like what the nature was. Each plant, species and child was different each unique and beautiful in their own way. Artemis was strong, courageous, independent and generous.