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To the Ridge; [p] Shalia
Topic Started: Mon Aug 23, 2010 2:03 am (194 Views)
Melmoth
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Lord High Anteater

The events in the bar yesterday had not gone well. Much stabbing, conflict, and far more excitement than he had expected. Eventually, however, he'd made it out with his gargoyle key. Now, he was in the middle of the desert. Alone. Bored.

The sun had long since set over the dunes, and the temperature had dropped rapidly to something approaching freezing. Fortunately that wasn't much of a concern for him, along with other creatures with fire for blood. Not that there were many in the desert, and certainly none he could see when he surveyed his starlit surroundings every time he reached the crest of a dune. Sighing at his thoughts and the boredom of his position, Melmoth whispered to himself, "Like hell there's a Salamander out here. I'd be lucky to find any nonmagical creature in this waste."

That was one of the reasons he'd picked this particular stretch of desert, after all. The desert as a whole had a frightening array of creatures, some extremely dangerous. Due to some unknown reason though, the area he'd picked for his vault was almost always deserted. He'd assumed there was some magical cause buried in the sands, but had never had the time to figure it out once and for all. The other reason he'd picked this area was evident off in the distance. A long ridge of stone dimly reflecting the moonlight stood out on the horizon, only partially covered by sand.

Tell me again why we're not flying there? And why you're in that damned illusion? You're out in the middle of the desert, with nobody to see you. Fly, stretch your wings, set something on fire for once. You're a demon. Sort of. Act like it.

His demonic companion, however, was wrong. There was always someone around to see when he removed his illusion. Without fail, the moment he dropped his guard, something unexpected happened and royally screwed up his plans. Well, not this time. He had to reach the ridge, find his vault, and get his auxiliary gear. The little he had on him, while usually enough for any situation, would be well supplemented with the supplies he'd cached before going down for the long sleep. "Just a few more miles..."

(ooc - Welp, I'd love to see how you get into this situation. FYI, the vault contains most of my inventory. I have my sword, my gargoyle, my bracer, and little else.)
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Shalia
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The desert sun beat down upon the tiefling woman. Not even this blazing heat brought a drop of sweat to her brow. She was born and raised in the fires of hell, fire flowed in her blood. Heat like this did little but warm her skin.

Shalia had been wandering where ever her feet took her ever since she freed herself from her demon master. A part of her had to thank that elf she met, Aiden. Had it not been for him, her master would still be alive and she would still be a slave. Now she was free. Freedom…for centuries she had dreamed of this and now her dream had come true. She did not quite know what to make of it.

Her aimless traveling had brought her here. She had now found herself in this desert waste land. She looked to the horizon as the sun began to set. It would be best if she found some shelter. She was not too fond of being out in the open when she took her rest. Off in the distance she saw what looked to be a rocky area. It was likely she could at least get a bit of shelter then, and headed in that direction.

As she traveled on…she could see a shape in the distance. Another traveler? Out here? She did not like this, not in the least. If she could see this person, she was certain they could see her. So trying to turn and leave would be of little aid if they intended to cross paths with her. No it was best to just continue on her course.

As she travelled on, she grew nearer and nearer to this shadowy fellow. The tiefling placed her hand upon the hilt of her blade. She would not call out to the person, she waited to see if he tried to engage her. If he did not, she did not care. In fact she was hoping he did not. But if he did try to engage her…she was ready to remove his head from his shoulders if he so much a whispered a threat. No one, man, demon, or otherwise would take her freedom from her. She would rather die than become a slave once more.
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Melmoth
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Lord High Anteater

Out of the corner of his eye, Melmoth spied a figure nearing him. Far nearer than he liked, considering that the starlit sands were bright as day to him. Ha! You slipped. Head in the clouds. It'll kill you someday, if the- Shoving Xrtchwdg's voice to the back of his mind was a simple thing, borne of habit. He continued to drone on as a low buzz, snarky commentary being one of his few pleasures these days.

Still... How the hell did he miss that one? Besides AD, the only living Shadowdancer he knew of more powerful than him, he was the king of the night, people did not sneak up on him. She was not within arms length, by any means, but he should have seen her on the horizon. Let us hope that she too is a Shadowdancer, and that I am not losing my edge.

He raised his hand, signaling he had spotted the other person, and turned, slightly altering his course to intercept the figure. It would be many minutes of walk, but eventually he would close and discover just what this person was doing out at night in one of the most inhospitable areas of Imythess, and so close to his secret vault.

- - -

Waiting until he was close enough to call out grated upon Melmoth. The desert appeared empty, but had an annoying habit of being occupied at the worst times. Such as tonight. Those occupants frequently had the ability to come upon you quicker than you liked, often with no warning. Also such as tonight.

Melmoth slid down the face of a dune, the trip depositing more sand down the back of his boots than he liked, but it was worth it, for he was finally within comfortable speaking distance. "Hail, and well met, traveler. Wherever you're going, you're headed the wrong way." True enough. Much farther north and he'd run into the Dragonspine mountains, and the frozen north beyond.

(ooc - The way I envision it, we're in the valley between dunes. Sight lines are bad, but there's room, and it sets up an easy attack later. Also, I've yet to get a good look at you yet, mostly because you haven't put your alignment on your description page, and I have the nifty ability to see that just from looking at you. It's something I always do...)
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Shalia
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Shalia uttered a soft curse under her breath as the man waved to her and changed his course to cross paths with her. There was no avoiding him now. The only thing she could was just walk on and hope that she was not forced to kill him. She was not against killing in the least…but she did prefer to avoid conflict if she could. She also did not like company…at all.

As they neared she halted so that she was on the slope of one of the dunes. Sand never gave good footing…but she at least had the high ground in this position. Always an advantage should things turn violent. She watched as the man slid down the opposite dune into the small valley the two created.

As he hailed her, she stepped back into a defensive stance on hand on the hilt of her blade. She pulled it just an inch from its scabbard to show that she was not making an idle threat. That if he so much as blinked without warning she would draw steel.

“Do not assume to tell me what direction I travel is right or wrong. You do not know my destination or my reason for my travels,” she hissed. “I too could say that you are traveling the wrong direction, for your path has crossed mine.”

Her violet eyes looked him over. Unfortunately she could not make him out as well as she would have liked due to the darkness of the night. This only proved to annoy her more and make her even more on edge. Her centuries in hell had taught her to never trust and always be ready for sudden betrayal.

“I would advise that you keep on your travels, male,” she said. “I have little interest in company.”

((OOC: I have updated my profile. But so you don’t have to go look at it. Shalia is Chaotic Neutral))
Edited by Shalia, Tue Aug 24, 2010 5:06 am.
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Melmoth
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Lord High Anteater

The figure (he recognized it as female now, and a very chaotic one), seemed far angrier than the situation called for. She reminded him of a mother badger, insanely aggressive if provoked, and not at all predictable. He figured that if he twitched wrong, she really would draw on him, unknowing of just how pointless such an act would be.

Her personality, from what little he had seen, was quite like Xrtchwdg's. That said, the two would never get along. The demon ranted and raved in the back of Melmoth's mind about the many horrible ways he would make her scream. After a particularly violent outburst that would cause an inquisitor to feel faint, he momentarily seized control of a few lesser used muscles in Melmoth's arm, causing it to twitch and spasm lightly before losing control to the sudden anger of the more rational host. Not yet! I'm never guided to people by chance, never! Ally or enemy, we'll soon find out, but by the fires of hell, you will not make me act before I am ready! The almost imperceptible motions in his arm halted as Xrtchwdg was once more forced out of Melmoth's mind.

Annoyance leaked through to his voice, despite his best efforts to the contrary. Melmoth would love to have followed Xrtchwdg's demands and butchered the girl, if it wasn't for the fact that every time he acted impulsively with strangers, fate kicked him between the legs afterward. "If you are looking to die, by all means, continue on. A few days north, and you'll run into the Dragonspine mountains. If you thought the Gwilikith Mountains rough terrain, then you are in for a world of hurt with those. Not to mention the fact that it's crawling with dragons who don't take kindly to visitors. Then, once you've made it past the lethal terrain and dragon guardians, you'll find yourself in the frozen north. It's very big, very empty, and everything, most notably the temperature, wants to kill you. If you're planning to turn off from your course, well..." he spread his arms wide, encompassing the boundless expanse of desert beyond the shallow dune-valley he found himself in. "I hope you like sand and thirst."

Without waiting for a response, Melmoth executed a deep, formal bow, turned on his heel, and began walking towards the ridge. As he saw it, there were a few possibilities to how she'd react, only one of which interested him. There were many directions she could go, but doing so would mean sleeping in the dune sea, never a wise thing in his experience. The direction he saw as most likely was heading straight to the ridge, the best shelter for miles around, and the only solid ground. If she was halfway smart, she'd come along, like it or not, giving him time to figure out just what the hell was wrong with her, and why he'd had the chance to meet her.

If she was an idiot, he'd at least have a chance to exercise his stealth skills as he shadowed her.



EDIT: Yay, 500 word post. :w00t: I don't get the opportunity to make those very often without going ape on the scenery details.
Edited by Melmoth, Tue Aug 24, 2010 6:31 am.
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Shalia
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Shalia’s eyes narrowed as the stranger’s arm began to twitch. Her back foot slid back a little and she dropped into a better battle stance, ready to pull the weapon out at moment’s notice. But then his movements stopped. She did not relax her stance, nor did she make any more hostile movements.

She let out a scoff at his comments. Harsh environments did not scare her. And dragons? Formidable foes yes, but when one was used to dealing with demons…she figured she could weave her way out of a battle with the winged reptiles.

“Compared to what I have been through…those over grown winged reptiles are nothing,” she hissed.

He bowed. She did not know if he meant it to mock her, or did indeed do it out of gentlemanly respect. Whatever his purpose in the motion was, it mattered little to her. She got what she wanted out of this engagement…his departure. She did not relax her stance for many moments as she watched him walk off. She was not surprised when he headed off to the ridge. It was the only place visible for miles that could provide any kind of shelter. As much as she hated going in the same direction as him…she was not to keep on spending the night out in the middle of the desert sands.

She sheathed her sword all the way and followed after. She kept a good distance behind him, keeping out of comfortable speaking range. If he stopped to wait for her, she would merely stop as well. She wanted to keep this distance between them for as long as she could.

The night grew darker as they travelled on. Finally they reached the ridge. Much to her annoyance she was now forced to close the gap between them. The tiefling woman still stood a good ten feet away from the main. Waiting and watching. What would he do next?
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Melmoth
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Lord High Anteater

Honestly, Melmoth did not know what to do. He assumed he had to figure out what was wrong with the girl, but anything he said could set her off, from the looks of things. So he said nothing. Let her make the moves, for now, he told himself.

- - -

Unfortunately, the silence between the two was not destined to last for long. Far across the sands, a group of shrouded men armed and armored in the cast away junk of the desert mounted their camels. Rogues to the eye, and slavers at heart, these men had recently chosen this section of the desert as their hunting grounds. Times had been tough in the mostly empty area, their leader knew, but tonight they looked to change that by capturing the girl they had been watching, and the figure she had met with.

The girl, at least, would fetch a good price amongst the nomads of the desert, perhaps even in Istan City if she turned out to be a rare find. The stranger, though... The scouts had not had time to circle around and get a good look at him, much to the leaders frustration. The bandit leader did not like unknowns in his raids, but he had little choice but to accept this one if he was to catch the two before they made it to the ridge. If the stranger moved wrong, the men had been ordered to kill him immediately. No mercy for unknowns.

- - -

As they reached the ridge, Melmoth cursed mightily at the sound of nearing hoofbeats and turned, drawing Fate with every bit of speed available to him, the sword seemingly appearing in his hand from nowhere. "I knew it! It's never a simple walk! Move, move, over to that rocky bit there," Melmoth said, motioning to a large area of broken ground jutting off from the ridge. "if you can find an even footing, we're golden." The deeper intricacies of his plan seemed evident Melmoth. The ground was not simple sand, but jagged bits of rock, a few boulders, and literal tons of loose stone slabs in all sizes. It would be hard enough for a man to walk there, and would stop a cavalry charge cold. "If they catch us, we- No, well, you, really, will most likely end up serving some sandy princeling somewhere until the end of your days. So, pick a nice spot, will you?" This said, he dived in among the rocks, hunting for a place to make a stand.

(ooc - A thousand curses on college preparations, and that MMO you told me about. I'll try to be quicker in my replies.)
Edited by Melmoth, Sat Aug 28, 2010 3:51 pm.
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Shalia
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Shalia was instantly at the ready when she heard the sounds of hooves. As Melmoth spoke she looked at him as if trying to decide if he was a trustworthy ally. He could very well be with the men charging at them and was only trying to trick her. But now was not really the time to be worry about such things. They had a chance of survival if they worked together, and none if they did not.

She followed him up to the rocks. The footing was not great, but she found a pretty secure spot. Her lavender eyes watched the sandy dunes as the mounted men came. A brief look of confusion crossed her face as Melmoth said something about her serving a prince. Then it hit her.

“Slavers…” she hissed, the word dripping in venom. It was clear just by the way she said that single word how much she hated slavers. “Let them come…let them taste my wrath…”

As she drew her sword, her true nature also became apparent. Her raven black hair turned into a scarlet red, so bright that its color was clear even in the darkness of the night. Scales appeared on her cheeks and arms as well. She was an uncommon mix indeed. One with both demonic and draconic blood flowing through her veins. She would fight here to the death, capture was not an option. She had not spent over 300 years waiting for the chance to kill her master and be free to only become a slave once more. Death would be better than slavery again.

The uneven terrain caused the men to have dismount their camels and climb up to them. They moved slowly and together, they were a trained group that was for sure. But so was she. She wait…waited for them to come to her. Even though they had advantage of numbers, she had the advantage in terrain. When one man got within five feet he decided to charge at her. She parried his blow and placed her free hand on his face. At first the man seemed surprised by her odd counter attack…until bright red sparks erupted in his face and eyes. While the man was distracted by the searing hot pain in his eyes…she removed his head from his shoulders.

The other men in the group now seemed more cautious. This was going to be a long fight. But she would not go down easily.
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Melmoth
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Lord High Anteater

(ooc - O.O Now THAT is an interesting way to use create spark. I had never considered it. Also, it would be very interesting if you got captured IMO. I don't see it happening, but hey, plot if need be.)

Melmoth had his hands full soon enough. He had picked a spot behind three oversized rock chunks as high as his knee, and one a good bit bigger. He intended to place them between him and the charge, and to use them to help break any attacking groups up into more managable portions.

It worked fairly well, he reflected moments later. A group of five had come at him, one in the front yelling in some odd dialect of the deep desert. He didn't understand it, but the shaken spear did not give him hope it was friendly in nature. He and another man, this one wielding a sword, came through the rocks while the other three hung back. Melmoth waited, muscles slack and relaxed as he stood in his guard stance, before springing into action when the two closed.

In a sweeping stroke, Fate took off the tip of the spear before the wielder knew what was happening, and buried itself in the neck of the swordsman. The sword ripped out, dipped down, and sheared through the rusted mail covering the spearman's stomach, ripping him open like a pillowcase. Before either of the two had begun to fall, Melmoth was once again on guard, Fate, oddly enough, as clean as it was before fatally wounding the two men. He motioned to the three left, and spoke, his words only slightly muffled by the dying noises of the spearman. "My sword thirsts. Come to me."

On the outside calm, on the inside, much different. Fate had drank deeply of the blood of his enemies, and shared with him some of its bounty. He had no wounds that needed healing, so instead the life energy flowed into him as a euphoric feeling unlike any other. It was difficult to keep from grinning a maniac grin and possibly scaring his prey away, but he somehow managed. The experience was addicting, he knew from countless trials, and also far better and far worse than anything the underside of society had come up with yet. Life, he supposed, was the greatest drug of all.
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Shalia
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Shalia saw Melmoth fell two of the men out of the corner of her eye. Good, he could hold his own. She did not have to worry about him dying and her having to handle these men on her own. But now, with three of their comrades already dead…the rest were much more cautious. Seemed they were use to dealing with less skilled prey.

Three men slowly came to her now. One straight one, and the other two around her sides. They were attempting to flank her. She glanced to a rock to her left about two feet in height and pretty round. A sly smirk cross her face as one of her foes was right in line with this rock. Placing one foot up on it she gave it a powerful shove, causing it to begin to roll down the dune picking up speed quickly. By the time the man realized what was happening it was a little too late. The rock hit his leg and a loud snap could be heard as it broke the bones in his lower leg. He fell to the ground clutching his leg and he screamed in pain.

He may still be alive…but at least he was out of the fight. Now two more to deal with. She had no time to pull another trick before both men were upon her. The tielfing woman parried and dodged blows as best she could. She grimaced as one was lucky enough to graze her shoulder.

She knew she needed to do something and fast or else she would be in trouble. Quickly she ducked down and grabbed a fist full of sand. Sure this was one of the oldest tricks in the book…but it still worked. She threw the sand into the eyes of one of the men. This time instead of using the distraction to quickly kill this man, she used him as a shield.

By slashing his arm she made him drop his weapon. Then by grabbing the front of his tunic she pulled him between herself and her last foe. Too late to realize what she was doing, the final man sung his blade…only to impale his own friend. A look of shock and horror crossed his face as Shalia slide her own blade into this exposed throat.

She let both men fall to the ground, the blood turning the sand a deep red. She stepped back to look at the remaining enemies. Not many remained. And none seemed very willing to approach the pair who had dispatched on so many of their numbers so quickly.
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