| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
| Vengeance | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Wed Dec 8, 2010 11:33 pm (910 Views) | |
| swordhunter | Wed Dec 8, 2010 11:33 pm Post #1 |
 
|
Aiden slowed his pace as he noticed the first few snowflakes falling to the ground around him. He turned at the sound of boots crushing ice and snow underfoot, smirking a bit as his doggedly determined companion. The past day had seen very rough terrain and weather, but Caoimhe had taken all of the difficulties in stride. Quite easily one of my better traveling companions, the elf thought with a well hidden smile. Their journey had just begun to take a south westerly track towards the realm of the dwarves. In the distance, the imposing grey mass of the Gwilikith Moutains stood silently above the ice plains, marking the transition from tundra to rocky foothills. Soon enough, they’d be rid of the permanently frozen ground for….well…slightly more welcoming stone and dirt. But once there, there were far more dangers to consider. While the tundra was relatively empty of predators besides the odd wolf, the foothills were notoriously dangerous, filled with orcs, trolls, and other beasts. Not to mention the Faceless themselves could be lurking somewhere within, just waiting for their chance to strike once more. And added to that, there was still the threat of the unknown mage who’d attacked outside of Striberg. Far too many unknown variables here, Aiden thought with a grimace. Their journey so far had been blessedly easy. But if history was any indication, easy goings rarely lasted long…and rarely ended without bloodshed. “I’d say we still have a day or so to go until we reach the northern foothills, wouldn’t you say?” Aiden asked, coming to a full stop and placing his hands on his waist. “If that’s the case, I’d say we’re making excellent time. We’d only have another half day or so until we’re in the mountains proper.” Turning to regard Caoimhe fully, Aiden held out his hand politely and continued, "May I see the map? I just want to check our general location for a moment.” A sudden stiff wind blew, ruffling Aiden’s cloak and causing the elf to shudder a bit at the sudden blast. The snowflakes were now falling at a faster pace, a fact Aiden absorbed with dismay. He already didn’t like the tundra…a snowfall wouldn’t exactly improve his opinion of the place. . . Edited by swordhunter, Wed Dec 8, 2010 11:34 pm.
|
 |
 
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Mon Dec 13, 2010 8:31 pm Post #2 |
|
It had happened so abrubtly. The blonde was certain that her only her father and grandmother would understand. Her mother would be angry. Her brothers would be confused and worried; they would want to follow, and her father would almost let them. But her grandmother...she would convince him to convince them to return to their duties. Caoimhe was certain of it. Her family was nothing if not predictable. She had dwelt with them for twenty-seven long, hard years. The tundra was a frozen wasteland that even those with the greatest wealth had trouble with. Few wanted to be there, and fewer still wanted to dwell there. Most who did dwell upon the endless plains of spirit-sapping ice and snow built or bought homes in Striberg, not on the plains themselves. But Caoimhe's family was one of the few who'd dwelt upon the ice for several generations, perhaps several hundred years. Perhaps even longer. People in Striberg were mostly accepting of foreigners, but only as customers. Like all isolated settlements, they didn't like outsiders getting into their business. They didn't like intruders in their sheltered lives. Genasi were intruders. They were remnants of the ancient gods and goddesses, embodiments of the elemental forces that governed the prime material plane of existence. They were beyond mere outsiders; they weren't even from this world - not really. Not in the manner that mortals recognized. As long-lived - perhaps longer - as the elves, with hearing and vision far beyond the capabilities of most mortals and an extremely deep connection to the element that had spawned them, genasi could be unfathomably dangerous. Those who shunned them because of ancient myths didn't even begin to realize how much so. But some, like Caoimhe's family, just wanted to live simple lives. They had done so for a very long time, well away from Striberg to avoid regular confrontation, yet close enough to make trading relatively painless. Some had perhaps become a bit too comfortable with their 'simple lives'. Caoimhe's mother, for instance, had become lazy and dictatorial at best. In truth, though she did not know this, Caoimhe Whelan was the first of her family in nearly three hundred years to undertake any kind of journey lasting longer than a day or two there and a day or two back. She was also the first of her family to journey beyond the frozen plains, and that made what she was doing now a venture into the wholly unknown. Her pace had been steady, but not so swift as to tire her. For even a human living on the ice, it would've been child's play to travel a day and night without rest through arctic wilderness. But Caoimhe was not human. With no confrontation, moving easily across the world, she could go for another three or four days before she would have no choice but to rest. Two days and nights was thus relatively easy for her. Now, there was more snow than ice upon the ground, but there were hundred-foot-thick sheets of solid ice lying a good foot or two beneath the hard-packed, half-frozen snow upon which she and her companion trod. She was actually a bit behind her companion, but not for lack of swift travel. She had been checking the map in her book regularly, consulting the path she knew she must take to reach the dwarven outpost in the foothills. This had slowed her only very little, just enough for her to be trailing a few paces behind her companion. Caoimhe had never been to the ridge, but she knew where it lay. Going beyond it was something she had never considered, never desired, and never planned. Now, she had gone so far beyond it that she was in completely unfamiliar territory save the endless winter that covered the world this far north. At least she wasn't completely out of her element (both literally and figuratively speaking). A snowstorm had covered the path just a mile or so to the east the day before. There was no denying it: even Caoimhe, born and bred for the tundra, had been lucky. They had managed to avoid the worst of the storm, taking only a little bit of a beating for a few hours as they'd drifted past the western edge of the blizzard. No conflict and no bad weather to slow them down significantly had meant steady travel. Now, though, her companion wished to check the map for the first time. He stopped ahead, and Caoimhe caught up with him almost instantly. She hadn't said a word since the pair had departed from the ice plains two days and nights ago, and she said nothing now as she came up to Aiden and stopped. She pulled her bag from her body and opened it, removing the book; she turned to the page she'd marked and looked at the map for a moment before glancing around. She checked her compass as well, just to be certain of the direction. Yes, they were on the right path - or near enough to it for it not to make a significant difference in their pace or plan. But she handed the book to Aiden regardless, taking a bit of cheese out as she did so. She might as well eat something while she was stopped. The elf had insisted she eat something more than once on this trip, though she hadn't wanted to stop, so she'd simply taken out a small packet of cheese and nibbled on it from time to time. She figured she would eat when she stopped, and that wouldn't be until they reached the dwarf camp. On the other hand, she had said that they would stop the night before reaching their destination. But the more she thought about what might have been done to Mirzina, Mishka's daughter, the more she realized that she could not stop - not until the death of the potter had been avenged and Mirzina had been rescued. Or buried. Edited by Caoimhe Whelan, Mon Dec 13, 2010 8:34 pm.
|
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Wed Dec 15, 2010 4:15 pm Post #3 |
|
The wind continued to pick up as the pair made their quick stop. The gray mass of cloud above started to move across the sky in an increasingly threatening manner. Aiden took the offered book without a sound, checking their approximate position with a glance and a vague sense of compass directions. Considering how long we’ve traveled, he thought, We’re likely somewhere around here. Punctuating the thought with a quick jab to the page, the elf nodded in satisfaction. Indeed, the pair had made extremely good time thanks to their ability to keep moving without much rest. And though he was still concerned about Caoimhe, Aiden now totally respected her ability as a traveler. He was more than certain that they’d continue to make good time simply because his companion was so driven. The dwarves will take an instant liking to her, Aiden thought with a concealed smirk. She’s probably tough enough to earn their respect the moment we enter their territory. That could be extremely useful if we end up needing guidance through the area. The elf momentarily wished that they’d be moving closer to the Deep Cities—he had plenty of contacts and more than a few friends there who would likely be more than willing to help on an adventure...or vengeance kills. “I think we should stop and rest before we get into the hills themselves,” Aiden said absently, taking one of the food packs from his back. He decided to take advantage of their momentary rest, taking out a few pieces of fruit and sweet break before replacing the pack on his back. “The hills themselves are quite dangerous, as I’m sure you well know. We will probably need all the rest we can get before entering the foothills proper.” The elf took a bite of the sweetbread, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, “I have heard rumors recently that bands of trolls have taken to those hills, roaming about and scavenging on whatever they can find. The dwarves have been steadily pushing them north as they expand their own territory, killing them when they can, scaring them off when they can’t. That’s made it extremely dangerous for the few merchant caravans that decide to take this route to the mountain outposts.” “I’d like to move as quickly as possible through the hills, if you don’t mind.” Turning to Caoimhe, the elf continued, “I don’t mind fighting if absolutely necessary...but I absolutely despise trolls. They’re messy, smelly, awful things that I would be more than happy to never see again.” Pausing as he realized he was going on a tangent, the elf took another bite of the bread before asking, “Any questions?” |
|
|
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Thu Dec 16, 2010 7:47 pm Post #4 |
|
When Caoimhe took back the book, she started to put it away immediately. She had no intention of resting one moment longer than necessary, and she certainly didn't intend to rest now. They still had daylight on their side, and they still had quite a ways to go. According to the map, they were certainly headed in the right direction, but that didn't make their journey any quicker - especially if they stopped to rest every time either one of them felt even slightly exhausted. When Aiden suggested a brief respite, Caoimhe opened her mouth as though to speak. The look on her face was clear: she did not want to stop - not until they had gotten to the outpost and found out what they needed to find out. Perhaps that was Caoimhe's greatest weakness as well as her greatest strength: when she started something, she finished it. Period. But the elf was already sitting down. Her mouth closed and she finished putting the book away. Fine. She could use the practice with her spellcraft, and he was probably right besides. She would never admit that, though. Sitting on her knees in the snow, facing the wind as the elf rambled on, she focused her mind. She drowned out all sound around her: the voice of her companion, the light whistle of the wind, the sound of her own breathing. It was as though a quiet was falling over her. And slowly, her hands on her knees, the stoic maiden of the north took on a steely gaze. Soon, the wind that blew her blonde hair to the sides, away from her pretty face, began to diminish. It did not completely vanish, but it was as though something was pushing back the bitter-cold breath of winter. Soon, snow began to shift as though caught in a small whirlwind. In fact, that's exactly what was happening. As the wintry wind of nature thrust itself upon the travelers, a gust of air from the elemental plane of air itself blew back upon nature. It had been called upon by the genasi now gazing hard in the direction from which the pair had just strode so purposefully, summoned by the power of her blood and her elemental connection. The wind was nothing to what blew at Aiden and Caoimhe, but it was enough to make an impression on the snow just before the woman. One might call her a barbarian if they knew her not, for she was quite tough and weathered the northern reaches easily - or at least, as easily as anyone could, regardless of race. But in truth, she was no barbarian. Barbarians were words for people who had too much aggression and not enough brains. Caoimhe had both aggression and brains, and she showed that now with her wordless casting of the Gust spell. Caoimhe was so focused on her task, in fact, that she hardly noticed the elf had asked her a question. While she could probably cast this without concentrating so intently, the meditation was peaceful. Her mind almost entirely cleared, she found her quest only a faint nagging at the back of her mind. Unfortunately, as she recognized that nagging, her concentration broke and so did the spell. The snow was blown back and landed in Caoimhe's lap, her hands and knees now covered in the stuff. The frustration was apparent on her face, though she tried to conceal it; the eyes could never lie. "Hmph," was all she said as she stood and brushed herself off. In Caoimhe's mind, it was time to move again. |
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Fri Dec 17, 2010 5:30 pm Post #5 |
|
Aiden didn’t really expect an answer to his question as he bit into the chunk of cheese in his left hand. The elf chewed thoughtfully as he waited for a few long seconds. I wonder if I was meant to notice her little display? he thought. Though he’d been seated and turned away while Caoimhe manipulated the snow with wind magic, Aiden had still regarded the display intently. It wasn’t often that he ran into people who already possessed the ability to concentrate long enough to use elemental forces. It was the difference between those with just a passing knowledge of arcane arts and the potential to develop into something much greater. And from the looks of things, Caoimhe clearly seemed to be in the latter category. "Hmph," came the eventual reply as Caoimhe brushed snow from her clothing. Aiden’s eyes narrowed a bit as he took another bite. It wasn’t often that his questions were just brushed aside…and it was never something the elf was pleased with. “Nothing?” he asked, swallowing as he stood slowly. “It doesn’t have to be about the journey, you know? You could ask me something about magic, for instance.” The elf didn’t even blink as he effortlessly raised the temperature around them at an astonishing pace. The snow at their feet melted quickly, making a deep puddle of water which grew at an increasing pace. “You do seem to have quite a grasp on the basics, of course,” the elf said as he took the last bite of his sweetbread. “I’d be interested to know who you learned your skills from…whomever it was taught you well. But as I’m sure you know, there’s far more to be learned than your gust spell.” The elf swallowed and regarded Caoimhe with a sly glance. “I’m assuming there’s more in that book than you’re letting on, am I right?” Aiden paused for a moment, certain he was correct and curious about what lay within that book. Of course, he would not press the issue for now—there was little point and it was none of his business anyway. But clearly Caoimhe wanted to know more about the arcane arts…and Aiden had always been a quite willing teacher, depending on the ability of the student. “If you’d like help with your studies, feel free to ask. We can practice while we walk, that way we won’t have to use valuable time.” The elf chuckled slightly as he stopped his simple spell, picking his boots through the slushy mess at his feet as he turned anew towards the mountains. . . |
|
|
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Fri Dec 24, 2010 9:04 pm Post #6 |
|
So...the elf knew magic as well. It should not have been surprising, however, as many elves seemed to know more of nature than hunters. That was saying something, considering the time and effort it took to garner a decent prize from the wilderness. Nature's bounty was rarely less than a challenge to obtain, and many hunters spent years teaching their children how to hunt before they ever let them pick up a bow or a spear. Yet elves seemed to possess such an intimate knowledge of nature that one might think they had made union with it. Of course, making union with a woman was hardly enough for a man to know everything about her, but still... Yet he offered to teach her. An elf had offered to teach her magic. She wasn't entirely certain what to say to him in regards to that. There was plenty of magic to be learned in the book, something the elf now picked up on (assuming he hadn't already), but a broader study of the arcane arts was not something to be balked at. Still, if it was easier to learn her own magic first, she would take that route. She would not want to push her luck by trying to learn a spell that was not of her element before she mastered the spells of her elemental alignment. Besides that, she found herself almost immediately feeling as though she were but a child and he fancied himself some kind of parent to her. She pushed that feeling down; it was likely not what the elf had intended, but it was what he had gotten. Still, she tried to be pleasant. She didn't need his or anyone else's help anyway; if she couldn't do it herself, it wasn't worth trying to do. "Enough," she said in response to his query regarding the tome's contents. "It has gotten us this far." That was all she said on the matter. Disprespect had not been her intention, but it could not be avoided. Her personality and his were simply far too different. That did not mean that they could not be tentative friends, or allies at least (for the time, anyway). It simply meant that they probably won't be telling each other all of their dirty little secrets or gossiping about those people and things they found interesting. It wasn't a love-hate relationship; it was just a temporary partnership that both parties were trying to make friendly. Besides, after what they'd gone through together on the ice plains, Caoimhe could hardly tell Aiden that he wasn't welcome. At the time, she'd needed someone to give a damn. Then she'd gotten home and there had been her father, and then her grandmother - despite her mother's attitude. Now, all she needed was to give something a swift whack on the head. But again, it was time to move. And so she hoisted her pack upon her body once more, beautiful yet hidden by the garments that it possible for someone to survive in such a frigid place, and began walking in the direction they'd been headed in to begin with. |
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Sun Dec 26, 2010 5:08 pm Post #7 |
|
"Enough. It has gotten us this far." Aiden assumed that was the only answer he’d be getting for now, and yet the slight smirk didn’t move from his face. He could tell without looking that he had caught her interest, though he doubted that she’d simply come out and say such a thing. She’ll learn what she can on her own and ask for help when there’s no other way, he thought, feeling fairly confident that he had a fair handle on Caoimhe’s personality. Aiden started to say something else, but decided against it—there was little that could be said now anyway. Caoimhe’s steely determination had pointed her to the mountains once more and probably wouldn’t make her the best conversational partner anyway. So with a tiny sigh, the elf continued forward, slogging through the snowy mush his spell had created before reaching the drier, packed powder a few meters away. Instead of focusing on the silence between them, Aiden’s thoughts drifted once more to the dwarves. Having known quite a few personally, Aiden knew what to expect from the gruff, industrious folk of the Deep Cities. However, he realized that he’d never been near an actual scouting outpost before. He imagined that the dwarves of the outward patrols were another matter altogether; they probably weren’t the most hospitable hosts in the world. We might have to tread more carefully there than I thought, the elf thought with a small frown, I never considered the fact that we could be regarded as intruders this far north. Perhaps I could drop a few names to get us access to the territories, but that in itself could be difficult unless we get them to trust us. Aiden’s frown lingered for a few long moments before he pushed those thoughts out of his mind completely. While it was always good to think ahead, there was little point in worrying about a future predicament when they had yet to make it through the foothills. If they didn’t get chopped to pieces by trolls and the like, then they could worry about…being chopped to pieces by dwarves. “Great,” the elf muttered to no one in particular as the wind continued to pick up. . . Aiden stopped walking for a minute to once again raid the supply pack, allowing Caoimhe to take the lead for the moment as he took out another piece of cheese. “Glad it’s so cold out here,” he muttered while taking a bite, “No worries about anything spoiling out here. This stuff could easily last us until we can resupply in the mountains.” Aiden hefted the pack once more, placing the strap across his shoulders before moving forward once more. However, after a few steps, the elf glanced down and noticed something quite surprising in the snow and ice. Stooping down a bit, Aiden gently wiped away a small layer of snow and, to his surprised, glimpsed what looked like wheel tracks in the packed snow beneath. A cursory glance to his left found a matching wheel track, confirming that a wagon of some sort had indeed passed here just a few hours ago. Must be a caravan, the elf thought, standing once more. Odd they drifted so far south, though. They generally stay closer to the northern paths which lead through the mountain passes…perhaps this one was just being adventurous. Aiden didn’t give the tracks another thought as he continued forward, munching contentedly on his cheese. After traveling about a hundred yards or so, Aiden lost his footing a bit on an odd patch of snow. As he stumbled forward, Aiden dropped the remainder of his cheese on the snow covered ground below. “Bloody snow bank,” the elf said darkly, regaining his composure before turning to retrieve his lost food, “Probably a rock or something. How the hell does that just lie exposed…on…” The elf trailed off as he looked closer at the ‘snow bank’ he’d tripped over. The snow here was darker than elsewhere, a fact that became evident as Aiden stooped closer. Cupping a bit of snow in his hand, Aiden swept a layer of powder back. It was then that Aiden was hit by a wave of foul odor, causing him to jerk back reflexively. But only an instant later, he was captivated by the sight of long dried blood on the ground before him. Cheese ignored, Aiden stood once more, covering his mouth and nose to protect from the stench as he viewed a mangled body lying on the snow before him. “Ripped to shreds,” he muttered, “Probably been here for at least a few hours considering the snow that accumulated and cooled the body.” “Caoimhe!” he said, turning from the body for a moment as a feeling of unease began building in his stomach. A few hours, the elf thought, About the time I estimated for that caravan passing. He let the thought hang there, certain that he wouldn’t need much imagination to figure out what happened…or what was responsible. . . |
|
|
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Mon Dec 27, 2010 9:24 pm Post #8 |
|
It should not have been surprising to anyone how stubborn Caoimhe was. Many who dwelt in the mountains were as rugged as the frozen rocks themselves, and those of the northern reaches were particularly hardy. They had a lot to endure, not just the snow and the ice and the perpetual cold. There were roaming wolf packs to worry about, for you could not always tell where their territories lay; they were almost always marked, certainly patrolled as often as one breathed, but the terrain and ignorant eyes sometimes failed to properly present such markings and wolves tended not to be noticed until they wanted to be. They were natural-born hunters, after all; everything about them was designed for it, from their incredibly sensitive noses and soft foot-pads for silent movement to their sharp claws and teeth and their powerful jaws. Their thick fur protected them against some blows and against the harsh climate of the endless winter they dwelt within. They were typically lean so that they could move quickly, and they had great endurance for long hunts or treks across the arctic wilderness. Actually, Caoimhe and others like her were often compared to wolves: very strongly familial, yet deadly when necessary. They could act on their own and were downright frightening in groups. The barbarian tribes that roamed the mountains and the northern reaches were often associated with great white bears, but they did not dwell in stationary homes as some winter-bound did. Caoimhe was close with her father and grandmother, and on friendly enough terms with her brothers; she dealt with her mother when she had to. But, like a wolf who didn't really fit into the pack, Caoimhe was usually alone. She just felt more comfortable alone, the peace of nature and the solitude of a lack of humanoid voices wrapping about her like a warm quilt. Her father was the exact same way, and so was her grandmother. Her brothers were like that a little, but they couldn't hold the silence for long. That was why Caoimhe got along with her father so well: they were practically twins. They understood one another perfectly. So to travel with someone was not a usual occurrence for Caoimhe. Honestly, she just wasn't sure how to deal with the elf. She trusted him well enough because of what they had been through together, but she was in no way beholden to him as she was to her family. Yet there was a part of her that felt as though she should be; she didn't like it, but she understood it. But enough of this...her thoughts finally turned to the dwarves as well. They were supposedly very proud of their beards, but did not trust easily. Caoimhe almost smiled at that. Almost. They sounded a lot like her father. But if they could provide a way to find Mirzina and the wizard, she would deal with them however necessary. And why, for the love of winter, couldn't she remember his name? Perhaps it was some spell cast upon her when she'd picked up the staff, or perhaps the book? It would make sense, assuming the wizard wanted to protect himself. If that was the case, why had he... Caoimhe's thoughts were interrupted not by a shout, her name being called by the elf, but by a rank stench that made her want to hurl her cheese back upon the snow and ice. She quickly found her own hand covering her nose and mouth instinctively, her eyes narrowed as she turned about. It was then that her name was called. She came, but not out of any desire to determine the source of the stench; if she'd had her way, she would have gotten as far away from it as... Blood. Smeared blood, lying just below the surface of the snow. From the look of it, the ice had appeared atop the blood less than a few hours ago. This kill was recent. There were no ogres in this part of the mountains, according to the book, but there were... "Trolls," her muffled voice stated flatly. She didn't have to tell the elf to watch himself. He likely knew enough to know that there was a very real danger of being attacked soon without her having warned him. She didn't need the book's description to tell her what trolls were, either. She'd heard of them. They were supposed to be massive, humanoid figures. Some legends said they carried big clubs and were as gray as rocks. Others said they carried slings or giant spears and were brown like...well, that wasn't a thought she wanted right now. The stench was bad enough without that thought in her pretty blonde head. On the other hand, not all the legends were believable. Oh, trolls certainly existed; she'd heard enough travelers rambling about having barely survived attacks by them only to watch their families and friends get slaughtered to know that they were indeed quite real. But Caoimhe doubted very much that they were fifty feet tall, wore armor stolen from knights (whatever knights were), carried battle axes the size of ships (she'd never seen one of them, either), and shot balls of fire out of their mouths (or anywhere else, for that matter). Whatever they looked like, though, one thing was for certain: there was never just one, but even one was very dangerous. |
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Tue Dec 28, 2010 12:33 am Post #9 |
|
Aiden heard the soft crunch of the snow underneath Caoimhe’s boots as she came closer, stopping a short distance away and looking upon the body with the same revulsion crossing the elf’s face. Trolls, she said simply, earning a grim nod from the elf in response. “Odd for them to be so far from the foothills,” he muttered, backing away a few steps and looking around a bit. Scattering some of the nearby snow with his boot, Aiden saw the telltale wagon tracks from before…and the rather odd path they started to take as it continued along. “A caravan passed here hours ago,” he said simply, wondering if his companion had spotted the trail as well. “Most likely, that body isn’t the only one we’ll find.” Aiden’s hand unconsciously drifted to the hilt of the lightning blade at his side. “And if we’re right and trolls are actually responsible, it’s highly doubtful we’ll only find one of them.” Turning to face Caoimhe, Aiden’s face clearly bore a worried expression. “They like to move in packs normally, especially when they hunt. As I’m sure you know, they’re horribly vicious things, but if they’re already hungry…” Aiden let the words drift in the wind as he turned back towards the foothills and sighed deeply. Of course, there was little that could be done for the moment—they’d have to continue forward regardless of the presence of a troll, or trolls. It’s not like he had to say that aloud as he was more than certain that Caoimhe’s determination was not shaken in the least because of the increased danger. Just more of an impetus to move faster probably, the elf thought, resisting the urge to snort in amusement. But even as he resisted the urge to lighten the mood, Aiden couldn’t help but shake a familiar feeling that he should be remembering something about this particular situation. “Well, nothing for it except to continue forward,” he said, still thinking but deciding that staying on the move would be the far better choice than viewing a mangled body. Better to escape the smell, anyway, he thought as he walked, You could probably detect that scent for quite a distance now that the snow’s been uncovered. It was then that Aiden noticed a dark, spotty trail which paralleled the wheel tracks in the snow. Probably more blood, he thought, stooping for a second to get a closer look. Scraping back a small layer of snow, the elf’s theory was confirmed as he viewed a now purplish stain on the white powder. Must’ve dragged the poor thing from the caravan. If we followed that blood back a bit, I’m sure we’d find more bodies…but why was this one dragged out? Standing once more, the elf frowned, but continued forward once more, angry that something still seemed to linger in the back of his mind. “If you see another body,” he said absently, “Shout or something. It might give us a clue as to how many trolls we’re dealing with here.” And then, in a flash, Aiden realized what had been nagging him—the body. “Dragged away from the others and left to stink,” he muttered, slowing to a stop as he thought aloud, “A stink so bad that it draws prey closer…until the snow covers it, covering the stench gradually.” Aiden went ahead and drew his blade now, certain of what was coming next before he heard the loud series of growls drifting in the wind. “Uncovering the snow let the stench return and the stench returning alerts the hunter that the body’s been discovered…by more prey.” Heavy breathing could now be heard from multiple directions as the wind began to pick up, as if on cue. “The tactics of a hunter. I knew something sounded vaguely familiar about the situation, but alas I obviously couldn't piece anything together until it was too late." The pair had managed to stumble right into a trap laid by a pack of trolls, apparently unsatisfied with their earlier kills and hungry for fresher meat. They didn't even bother adapting their strategy to this barren environment. Normally that wouldn't work in this desolate place...leave it to our luck to be the chance prey for the afternoon. "Well, at least we don’t have to find out how many there are now, I suppose,” the elf said to Caomimhe, his face breaking into a grim smile. . . |
|
|
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Thu Dec 30, 2010 7:20 pm Post #10 |
|
Caoimhe did not immediately notice the tracks. She was no huntress. If she had, she might have realized almost immediately what was about to happen - perhaps before the elf. That would have been quite a joke if she were ever to meet his kin, she was sure. But she had not, and so she did not. But when Aiden pointed out the tracks, she did know. She knew exactly what it was, and her tension - whether it showed in her face or the raising of her new staff as she brought herself into a more battle-ready stance - called the wind without thinking. It was a light breeze, but as cold as the natural wind which bit at the flesh of mortals in the northern reaches. It chose now to function this easily? That annoyed Caoimhe, but she set her annoyance aside for now. This was neither the time nor the place for such distractions. Following Aiden backward, she found her shoulders knocking against his. Oops. No matter. He likely wouldn't care, given the situation. Back to back, the faced off against whatever might come their way. Caoimhe's nose still crinkled as she desperately fought to keep from hurling, however, for the stench was absolutely horrible. Her coat was no cloak, and so she could not simply cover her nose and mouth with it. As the breeze whipped her pale-golden locks about like a playful child, she thought for certain that she was about to pass out. She smelled them long before she saw them: an extremely foul stench, like sour milk and rotten eggs mixed with fresh fertilizer, only a dozen times worse. She was teetering before she realized it, and it was a moment before she could make herself stop. Almost steady at last, her eyes watered in opposition to the odor that had dared to assault them. Tears ran down her face as though to make certain everyone knew how bad the stench was (as if no one knew already). She might have coughed, but she didn't want it to turn into hurling, and so she simply closed her sinuses and breathed through her mouth. That might've been a worse mistake. Finally, gasping for breath, she heard a question. It must have been she who spoke it aloud, without realizing it, for it was her own voice rather than Aiden's. "How can something stink so bad?!" She also found herself muttering to herself, though Aiden's ears could probably hear her regardless. "If only I had a kerchief...or a dirty stocking," she said, the last bit almost as an afterthought. Even a filthy stocking would have been better than this. |
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Sun Jan 2, 2011 3:51 am Post #11 |
|
Aiden sighed loudly as his eyes searched across the icy expanse, looking for any sign of the approaching enemy. Glancing left and right, the elf noticed that the wind had picked up noticeably on all sides, whipping up snow and reducing visibility to an extent. Even now, the elf could begin to make out hulking grey masses circling their position, waiting before moving within striking range. I count three on my side,” the elf muttered, setting his feet and lowering his blade to his side, waiting anxiously. He felt a light bump as Caoimhe moved towards the elf, standing back to back with him with her own staff at the ready. “This should go without saying, I suppose, but you’ll need to avoid being hit by them directly or bitten. Fresh blood in a hunt will get them into a frenzy and we’ll end up like that mangled corpse we saw—“ Aiden was forced to break off as the wall of smell hit him. The smell of the approaching trolls was even worse than the smell of the decaying man’s body, a point Aiden found simultaneously fascinating and depressing. He turned his head and closed his eyes tightly, willing his mind to ignore the stench....and failing miserably. Even I didn’t expect that, the elf thought, opening his eyes and ignoring the tears which began to stream down his face from the effort. I can’t see how these things manage to trap much of anything with such an awful stench following them around all the time. However, an instant later, the elf’s worry over the smell dissipated as he caught sight of the trolls themselves. The three moving towards him were giant, grey masses of flesh, well over fifteen feet tall and about twice the width of a man. Two of the approaching trolls were armed with massive wooden clubs apparently made from the sturdy wood of mountain trees and made more dangerous by studs made of hard rock pressed into the club heads. The sturdy bodies of the trolls were covered in thick grey skin, often with an assortment of scars running from head to toe. Aiden knew from experience that the skin of a troll was thick enough to act as an armor of sorts, protecting from most light physical attacks. He and Caoimhe would have to make sure that the blows they landed were strong enough to break through and cause real damage, otherwise, they’d be wasting precious time and energy. Turning his head to either side, Aiden could make out two more forms stalking towards Caoimhe across the snow, armed similarly to the ones approaching him. "How can something stink so bad?!" “Can’t you use your wind to do something about that smell?” the elf asked quickly, trying to do his best to breathe through his mouth and find at least some measure of respite from the intolerable stench. Either way, the smell would be the least of their problems soon enough. Five hungry mountain trolls certainly weren’t the worst enemies one could face. Too bad I can’t really think of any at the moment, the elf thought, raising his hand and weaving it through the air. The situation was far too dangerous to play around for very long. One false step could easily get them both killed out here. “If we manage to get separated,” the elf muttered as the trolls stopped circling, “Then make sure you don’t let them get behind you. They aren’t terribly fast, but they’re more cunning than you’d think.” Lowering his left palm, Aiden incanted, “Incendie!” A powerful ball of flame leapt from his head and surged towards the nearest troll, hitting the beast square in the chest. As the troll’s roar of pain echoed across the snow, the other trolls charged forward with horrible howls of their own. . . |
|
|
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Tue Jan 4, 2011 7:11 pm Post #12 |
|
Two massive trolls were coming her way, and Caoimhe realized now just how true the rumors had been. She could barely open her eyes for the tears pouring out. Had she still been in the northern reaches, they would have frozen quickly and she could have easily wiped them away. But here, the temperature was considerably higher (albeit still extremely cold) and she found herself wiping away salty droplets instead of specks of ice. As the elf began to speak, she thought of blasting away the smell. She tried controlling the wind, directing it, but it took a minute before she was able to focus enough to do it. It certainly wasn't helping much, however, which made her wonder if they had ever seen water before, let alone touched it. She nodded at the elf's words regarding blood and listened well to the rest of what he was saying, She had never met trolls, but they had to have the same problems with their knees that others did, right? If she took out the knees, they'd be in great pain and wouldn't be able to stand (at least, not properly). But from the look of that skin, she might as well kick a rock. But she had to try. Speaking of trying, the elf was now asking her to do what she was already attempting to do. Unfortunately, the stench was so bad that it just wasn't going away that easily. But as Aiden's fireball hit, the smoke from the scorched flesh was being driven backward and to the side, so it was clear that she was trying to do something (even if she couldn't actually see the fireball herself). When she heard the first roar, though, she also heard a second - and the pounding of massive feet as the ground shook beneath her. It seemed one of Aiden's trolls was rushing forward (likely not the one that had just been burned). Stepping forward, it seemed one of the trolls had gotten the idea to get this battle underway as well. Caoimhe didn't have much choice now: she had to separate from the elf. She ducked under a massive club, nearly passing out as she dove beneath the thing's legs from the stench. A gust of wind threw him off-balance - in Aiden's direction, unfortunately - and Caoimhe's staff shot out to slam into the back of the creature's left knee. It grunted, probably feeling the blow but not suffering any pain, and Caoimhe got to her feet quickly. She slammed her staff sideways into the same knee now, and the troll growled. If it had been her old staff she wielded, that blow likely would have broken it; but this staff seemed to be exceptionally well-crafted. It was apparently far stronger than her old staff could ever have been, and that would likely save her life here. Though impressed by the might of her weapon, despite it not being an axe or a hammer or a sword, Caoimhe was able to dart around the creature as it turned, trying to find her. She slammed her staff into the creature's knee again and again, but to no avail. Finally, when it bounced out of the knee joint, Caoimhe used the momentum and all her strength to slam her staff into the other knee. This time, the creature cried out for real and stumbled. Caoimhe's arms hurt after that. She recovered quickly, however, and wasted no time. She hit the creature's other knee once more and it fell. Its hands made massive holes in the snow and ice, and the other troll - who'd been watching with what might've been a bored expression as it picked its ugly nose (good thing Caoimhe wasn't watching, or she might've hurled; as if the stench wasn't bad enough) - finally made its move. It tried to swing at Caoimhe, but Caoimhe was climbing the first troll. Its club thus slammed into the lower back of the first troll, who screamed (or roared, rather). In anger, the second troll swung again. Caoimhe had just enough time to look up before she had to leap off of the troll to avoid being crushed. She hit the ground hard and rolled as best she could, finally stumbling up to her feet just in time to see the first troll collapsing with a final grunt. It wasn't out cold, but it was out well enough. It would probably be a few minutes before it regained its senses, so she didn't have much time to figure out how to down the second troll. On the plus side, the wind whipping about the trolls was finally starting to make a dent. Caoimhe wiped tears from her face and shook her head, blinking and trying to breathe. Somehow, she didn't think this was going to be a very short fight - no matter how many spells the elf had... |
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Wed Jan 5, 2011 2:47 am Post #13 |
|
Aiden’s eyes darted between the two trolls advancing towards him at a rapid pace. Luckily, only one was armed, but that was barely something worth rejoicing over at the moment. Not to mention that the battle behind him had apparently been joined—he could hear the other trolls moving towards Caoimhe as well. Trusting his companion to deal with her own opponents, Aiden surged forward, his sword at his right side and his free left hand extended. Another spell word was already on his lips as he ran, his eyes on the one troll he’d momentarily knocked out of commission. “Just have to get through these two oafs first,” he muttered, already launching himself to the right to avoid a clubstrike from the nearest troll. Using his momentum, the elf continued into a roll, moving just out of range from his second attacker. Then Aiden sprinted as fast as he could manage across the snow, closing the distance between him and the final troll. When he judged that the distance was sufficiently close, the elf skid to a stop, already turning from right to left as he prepared to face the two trolls he’d just past. But before he completed the turn, he brought his sword arm forward simultaneously, shouting, “Moji!” A powerful blast of lightning shot through the air and slammed into the fallen troll, filling the air with the smell of burning trollflesh. The elf instantly regretted the decision as the new scent washed over him, but there was little to be done about the situation now anyway. “Grin and bear it, chum,” Aiden told himself as he completed his turn and threw his left hand into the air. For now, Aiden contented himself with simply keeping the remaining two trolls from advancing any closer to Caoimhe. And for that... “Pasaer!” At the elf’s command, a sphere of darkness appeared in between the elf and the two remaining trolls, expanding rapidly as Aiden charged forward once more. Running towards his targets, Aiden closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again while whispering, “Aer.” As he plunged into the darkness, a flash of light surrounded his eyes before fading, allowing the elf to see within the magical darkness surrounding him. This won’t be big enough to reach their eyes, the elf thought, stopping his forward sprint to catch his breath and think of a plan. However, it’s more than tall enough to conceal me. I can attack from below so that they’ll focus on me and keep away from Caoimhe. At the thought of his companion, Aiden noted that one troll was already down...and being attacked by the other troll, no less. “Bravo,” he muttered, brandishing his sword once more and going on the attack. By now the trolls, realizing that their prey had escaped into the darkness below their feet, moved forward and began swinging blindly in an attempt to strike a crippling blow. As the closest troll raised its wooden club, Aiden took advantage of the opportunity and moved in close. Closing his mind to the overwhelming power of the smell around him, Aiden stabbed viciously at the troll’s feet, smiling in grim satisfaction as the magical blade pierced the troll’s thick flesh with ease. A loud roar of pain filled the air as the troll dropped its club and slashed downward with its bare claws. The strikes, while powerful, were far too slow to catch Aiden, who’d already withdrawn his blade and danced around the troll’s feet, slashing quickly but precisely at the beast’s legs. With a grunt, the troll finally succumbed and began falling towards the ground while still slashing wildly. “Shol,” Aiden muttered, disappearing from the spot just as the troll hit the ground hard, spraying snow and ice in a broad arc. A moment later, Aiden reappeared about ten feet above the downed troll. “One down,” he said slowly as he pointed his blade downward and let gravity do the work. Seconds passed before Aiden’s blade plunged into the belly of the fallen troll, breaking through its thick hide and spraying a fountain of disgusting, black liquid into the air. The elf didn’t bother hesitating before withdrawing his blade and jumping from the corpse of the troll, landing with a quick roll before getting back to his feet and charging towards the remaining opponent. The second troll, obviously sensing that something was wrong, began moving as quickly as it could managed out of the sphere, grunting rapidly in what Aiden assumed was an attempt to find its partner. As the troll finally broke out of the sphere, it began swinging at its feet, apparently fearful that it’s unseen prey would fell it in a similar manner as its now dead packmate. Stopping just at the edge of the sphere, Aiden sheathed his blade and took a deep breath. “It’s 25 yards at the most,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes gently as he began to feel the fatigue of battle weighing on his limbs. “No way I can’t hit something that big standing at 25 yards.” Opening his eyes once again, Aiden stretched out his left hand, so much so that the tips of his fingers extended from the darkness. “You poor thing,” he muttered, gathering magic around him once more as his eyes glowed a deep red, a color which the troll wouldn’t have seen from outside the sphere. Grunting loudly, the troll apparently caught sight of Aiden’s extended hand and began charging forward once more, its claws extended and ready to rip the elf to pieces. “You really shouldn’t have come closer. Aindrori.” Aiden almost vomited from the amount of magic which surged from his body towards the troll, engulfing it in a powerful flame which immediately melted the snow and ice around it. A wave of steam rose from the ground as the burning troll’s run slowed to a trudge and then finally stopped altogether. Its giant body swayed for a long moment before finally falling to the ground with a loud thump into slowly expanding pool of water at its feet. “That was harder than I thought it’d be,” the elf muttered, weakly falling to a knee as the effects of using so much magic so quickly finally caught up with him. “Damn trolls,” he said defiantly...before vomiting from, of all things, the horrible smell. . . |
|
|
|
| Caoimhe Whelan | Sat Jan 8, 2011 12:09 am Post #14 |
|
Of all the things to die from, a troll was not at the top of Caoimhe's list. That stench, however, was about ready to make her keel over. And as the second of her trolls advanced, Caoimhe found herself backing up. She ducked beneath several swings, only narrowly avoiding being swatted all the way back to the northern reaches. She didn't dare try to block a blow - this creature was far too huge and far too strong for that - and her staff had no sharp end. She was, at last, backed into a wall of ice. The troll - was it...laughing? Trolls knew how to laugh? It seemed to be chuckling, anyway, as it hurled a fist at the air genasi. Caoimhe decided to abandon her attempts to get rid of the spell in favor of a strong gust. It wasn't enough to topple the creature, but it did make him miss her as she darted to the left. His arm plunged deep into the wall of frozen rock and came out again with a roar. Now, it was bearing a massive icicle. The troll started slamming it into the ground again and again, unknowingly cracking it from the inside every time. Finally, as Caoimhe was thrown to the ground by the force of it slamming into the ground one last time, it exploded. Huge shards of ice were thrown in every direction like arrows loosed from a bow; some slammed into the legs and back of the semiconscious troll, but didn't pierce his thick hide. Some rained down upon and around Caoimhe, who covered her head with her arms. Some were launched toward the other trolls and Aiden. But as Caoimhe was scrambling to her feet a moment later, she heard something odd - a sort of humming and whistling coming from...she looked around. She couldn't find anything. And then she saw...was that a tree branch the troll was holding? Where had he gotten it from? It seemed to have come out of nowhere. Worse... ...it was glowing. It looked as though it were on fire, though no flames sprouted from its massive sheets of bark. But then, the troll pointed it right at Caoimhe. "Oh, this is not good," she found herself muttering. She did not like the looks of this at all. Trolls knew magic, too? How? They seemed to be too stupid to learn. But perhaps that giant branch didn't need intelligence to wield it. Whatever it did or didn't need, Caoimhe leaped aside as a spray of greenish-brown liquid sprayed in her general direction. Getting up, she watched in horror as everything the liquid touched began to sizzle and melt. It was acid of some kind. It wasn't headed for Aiden, thankfully, but it had nearly melted her. Another spray made her leap aside again. Repeatedly, it seemed, she dodged blast after blast from that branch. When all was said and done, the walls of rock, snow, and ice they'd been caught between were almost completely gone. Worse still, the first troll was waking up. |
|
|
|
| swordhunter | Wed Jan 12, 2011 3:33 pm Post #15 |
|
Aiden coughed and sputtered a bit as he pushed a handful of clean snow into his mouth, trying to wash out the taste of vomit and troll stench. Taking a few long seconds, the elf then stood and turned on his heel, looking about for any sign of his companion. For a few moments, all he could hear was the dull thud of a rampaging troll nearby--there was no sign of Caoimhe. Aiden's sense of unease began to grow as he jogged forward, his anxiety giving him strength for the moment, though the drain from his earlier magic use was clearly registering. "We need to finish this quickly," he muttered softly, knowing full well that if there were other trolls nearby, the scent of blood and flesh in the immediate area would only serve to draw them into the fray as well. And for now, five trolls were more than enough of a problem. "Caoimhe!" Aiden shouted as he finally caught a glimpse of his companion, jumping to and fro as she attempted to dodge what looked to be...Acid? Interesting...I didn't know trolls could even use magic! The situation was quickly deteriorating as the troll's club spat globs of acid at the elusive Caoimhe, causing loud hisses and cracks as the acid met the snow and ice. To make matter's worse, Aiden's attention was caught by the second troll which was stirring once more and preparing to reenter the fray. Deciding to deal with that one first, Aiden silently prayed that the acid would continue to miss its mark in the meantime. Speeding his jog to a full on sprint, Aiden felt his fatigue fall away as he fell into the heat of battle once more. The grounded troll, apparently seeing the elf rushing towards it, lashed out with one of its long, powerful legs. Aiden, seeing the attack, skid to a stop, wincing just a bit as the troll's foot whizzed past, spraying snow and ice across the elf's body. Before the troll realized it's attack had missed, Aiden surged forward, his lightning blade extended to his right. "Moji!" he shouted, swinging the blade forward and unleashing a powerful bolt of lightning towards his target. With a loud explosion, the bolt made contact, once more spraying snow and ice into the sky. But to Aiden's eternal surprise, the troll seemed almost completely unfazed by the strike. Acrid smoke streamed from the troll's backside and its pained cry filled the air, but little else seemed to have happened. In fact, the beast was now standing, anger pouring forth from its dull, beady eyes. "Wonderful," Aiden muttered as he continued running forward, taking himself out of striking range of the troll. He turned just a bit to see that his quarry was now giving chase, its angry cries echoing over the snow. On the one hand, Aiden was pleased--this should give Caoimhe the breathing room she would need to focus on her own attacker. But on the other hand...now he was being chased by a wounded troll intent on crushing its attacker into small, bloody pieces. "I've had worse days, I suppose," he said with a sly smirk. . . |
|
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
 Our users say it best: "Zetaboards is the best forum service I have ever used." Learn More · Register for Free |
|
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Gwilikith Moutain Range · Next Topic » |
1:21 PM May 19
