A warning, Knights.
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A warning, Knights.
On the night of the 20th of Siros, a dark, hooded and cloaked figure approaches Troll's Bane's town walls, pinning a noticeable parchment, then scurries through the darkness of the night.
Knighthood Members,
We have Jorokar, you won't find him, don't bother.
One member after the other will be kidnapped, until we reach an agreement, until you learn to respect us and fear us. You will know soon enough what we want, and should you refuse to provide it to us, consequences will befall upon the knights.
This is a simple warning, he will stay alive, and well fed until you force us to act differently.
We will terminate this message there for the moment, but you'll hear of us again.
The note is signed: The Seer
A large eye is drawn underneath the signature
Knighthood Members,
We have Jorokar, you won't find him, don't bother.
One member after the other will be kidnapped, until we reach an agreement, until you learn to respect us and fear us. You will know soon enough what we want, and should you refuse to provide it to us, consequences will befall upon the knights.
This is a simple warning, he will stay alive, and well fed until you force us to act differently.
We will terminate this message there for the moment, but you'll hear of us again.
The note is signed: The Seer
A large eye is drawn underneath the signature
The nervous, angry elfess walks stiffly through Troll's Bane, trying to rid herself of the anxiety she had felt since she had left Jorokar and that 'man' to talk. Coming upon a note, Ayla pauses, reading what it says. Slowly, as each word of the parchment sinks in, her face falls blank until a look of fear twists her expression, the realization sinking in. Her heart beats faster as slowly, shakily she moves away, the fear upon her face slowly turning to murderous rage, mixed with an underlying look of loss.
- Michael Isman
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- Joined: Sat Mar 24, 2007 8:33 pm
- Dantagon Marescot
- Posts: 1948
- Joined: Mon Sep 04, 2006 8:38 am
- Location: Illarion Public Library
How dare you threaten us when we try to bring peace instead of war to the isle. If you dare lay a finger upon Jorokar I swear I will remove your head myself. I do not know what quarrel you wish to cause with the knighthood, but you have made a stupid mistake. I demand to know what makes you think you have the right to treaten the knighthood and their members. May the fires of Bragon burn you for you arrogance and self rightousness.
-- Sir Dantagon Marescot
-- Knight of Gobaith
-- Warrior of Bragon
-- Sir Dantagon Marescot
-- Knight of Gobaith
-- Warrior of Bragon
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A hatch above Jorokar opens, a strike of sunlight shatters through the darkness of his refuge.
A hooded being lets drop a ladder, and climbs down of it, landing on the muddy ground of Jorokar's "cell".
Standing in front of him, his features completely concealed by the darkness, he approaches the page, weak and beaten several times to the head.
The camouflaged being slides out a sticker, grabbing Jorokar's arm, he makes a small, and precise cut. Spoils some of his blood upon a piece of white cloth and climbs the ladder up, which he is quick to pull up also, before closing the hatch.
After a while, a small girl strolls in by the town's wall, letting down a piece of parchment, along with the blood-begrimed cloth, before scurrying in tears out of town, and towards the harbor.
Do not threaten me, Dantagon. As long as you remain respectful and obedient, everything will go smoothly.
Do not try to hide, do not try to operate behind my back, for I see all.
The note is scratched simply, and is signed with a large, red eye.
A hooded being lets drop a ladder, and climbs down of it, landing on the muddy ground of Jorokar's "cell".
Standing in front of him, his features completely concealed by the darkness, he approaches the page, weak and beaten several times to the head.
The camouflaged being slides out a sticker, grabbing Jorokar's arm, he makes a small, and precise cut. Spoils some of his blood upon a piece of white cloth and climbs the ladder up, which he is quick to pull up also, before closing the hatch.
After a while, a small girl strolls in by the town's wall, letting down a piece of parchment, along with the blood-begrimed cloth, before scurrying in tears out of town, and towards the harbor.
Do not threaten me, Dantagon. As long as you remain respectful and obedient, everything will go smoothly.
Do not try to hide, do not try to operate behind my back, for I see all.
The note is scratched simply, and is signed with a large, red eye.
- abcfantasy
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Jorokar opened his eyes slowly, still not having gained total consciousness. His head was heavily aching, and his vision was blurred, though all he saw was pitch black darkness. He stroked his head slowly, not noticing the cut on his hand and still lying helpless down on the earthy ground.
He felt powerless, weak, unable to think about the occurrence. He lifted his hand, feeling the damp wall beside him, but only for a short while before he let his eyes close, no more energy to react...
He felt powerless, weak, unable to think about the occurrence. He lifted his hand, feeling the damp wall beside him, but only for a short while before he let his eyes close, no more energy to react...
'seer',
I am the Knights chosen representative. I remain neutral in the dealings, and merely come to negotiate. I wish to meet with you and speak. I will come unarmed, as long as you agree to the same. The place has to be in a neutral area, and we both come alone. This is merely for negotitation.
Salhari Whitewalker, Archdruid of the Pantheon
I am the Knights chosen representative. I remain neutral in the dealings, and merely come to negotiate. I wish to meet with you and speak. I will come unarmed, as long as you agree to the same. The place has to be in a neutral area, and we both come alone. This is merely for negotitation.
Salhari Whitewalker, Archdruid of the Pantheon
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Upon the eastern gate is pinned a parchment, it reads:
My, Salhari. Think I am that much of an idiot? You tempt my patience by setting traps agaisnt me? For that, you will get punished.
Ayla is no longer a Knighthood member, at least, as long as she rots in the cozy, warm refuge I have designed for her.
The note is signed with a large, red eye, and a streak of white hair has been roughly glued under the signature.
My, Salhari. Think I am that much of an idiot? You tempt my patience by setting traps agaisnt me? For that, you will get punished.
Ayla is no longer a Knighthood member, at least, as long as she rots in the cozy, warm refuge I have designed for her.
The note is signed with a large, red eye, and a streak of white hair has been roughly glued under the signature.
you do not believe me 'seer'? fine then, name your place and time. I will come alone, unarmed. I said i come in neutrality, and that i do. I am merely wishing to get thy terms and negotiate the release of the prisoneers
Salhari
This is my bond
*a drop of blood is on the parchment, looks like a thumb print*
Salhari
This is my bond
*a drop of blood is on the parchment, looks like a thumb print*
- The Returner
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Mister Salhari, your more then likely going to get yourself killed or captured as well. In the best case, the "seer" will not show up and plotting an ambush will kill anyone he or they have kidnapped.
Sir Seer, I am a true neutral party who has no wish to meet with you. I am asking you only for your terms and demands to us so that we can meet them and end this foolish game.
~Batius Grandal
Sir Seer, I am a true neutral party who has no wish to meet with you. I am asking you only for your terms and demands to us so that we can meet them and end this foolish game.
~Batius Grandal
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A falcon flutters above the Fluffy Sheep Tavern, calculating the justest moment, its claws let drop of a deer skin, on which, scratched with an ink-imbibed dagger;
I will meet you where the three loiter together, like twins, like sisters, surrounded by floating nothingness.
The Seer
The hawk darts away from brooding over the tavern, as its cry evanesces towards the south-east winds.
I will meet you where the three loiter together, like twins, like sisters, surrounded by floating nothingness.
The Seer
The hawk darts away from brooding over the tavern, as its cry evanesces towards the south-east winds.
- Gaillardial Sternenhaar
- Posts: 23
- Joined: Fri Nov 10, 2006 12:18 am
A little Fairy flys to the Note, read the note with a giggle till she see the name în the note. She glances shoked over the note again and again, then she begin loudly to cry and scream around, so everyone in the town hears her screaming.
"Jorokar...Wääääähhhhhääää...Jorokar"
After she calm down a bit and read the note again, before she write a own note under it in a very beautiful writing
Give out Jorokar, right now and without any mark! Or the fairys of Gobaith will play you bad pranks for your whole lifetime!
-Gaillardial-
"Jorokar...Wääääähhhhhääää...Jorokar"
After she calm down a bit and read the note again, before she write a own note under it in a very beautiful writing
Give out Jorokar, right now and without any mark! Or the fairys of Gobaith will play you bad pranks for your whole lifetime!
-Gaillardial-
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On the 23th night of Siros, a rugged rock, on which is strapped a piece of parchment, is thrown from behind the northern wall, before an average-heighted bod, completely concealed and hooded, scampers towards the Grey Haven, up north to disappear into the thick woods of the forest. Once unrolled, and pinned by a passing citizen, the annotation reads:
Now that we have Jorokar and Ayla, we may start enjoying ourselves.
We will send someone to meet you soon, do not worry about the time, that being will come alone, and you will know what matters the person is here for.
Try to hurt him, capture him, follow him, or anything we might dislike, and one, randomly chosen, of either Jorokar or Ayla will be deprived of food for a week, and beaten.
You will also know the location soon, carry on living your lives, citizens, we aim at precise targets.
Upon the rock itself, has been scratch a large eye, and red blood poured upon it.
Now that we have Jorokar and Ayla, we may start enjoying ourselves.
We will send someone to meet you soon, do not worry about the time, that being will come alone, and you will know what matters the person is here for.
Try to hurt him, capture him, follow him, or anything we might dislike, and one, randomly chosen, of either Jorokar or Ayla will be deprived of food for a week, and beaten.
You will also know the location soon, carry on living your lives, citizens, we aim at precise targets.
Upon the rock itself, has been scratch a large eye, and red blood poured upon it.
- abcfantasy
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It was the second time now that he opened his eyes. The pain in his head had faded away by now, yet it showed itself in his limbs, caused by the unpleasant and unhealthy conditions he was in. Noticing the complete darkness around him, he shifted his head, looking around frantically, but the unlit place made it impossible to even determine if there was a wall or a hallway.
He weakly stretched his arms upwards, trying to reach a ceiling, but to no avail. He quickly let his arms drop back, sighing only faintly.
"Help..."
He tried to scream, but his voice had turned hoarse by now, and his yell was nothing but a low guttural voice, barely heard from a few meters away. He attempted a few more times, but it was clearly fruitless, and it didn't take long before he surrendered.
For minutes there was perfect silence. Nothing but dead silence. He pondered about what had happened, but every time he tried to, the ache in his head returned. Each time, he groaned dimly, giving up on it aswell, letting the absolute stillness be heard again.
No more words, no more sounds and no more thoughts, his eyes close again and sleep for him is all that was left.
He weakly stretched his arms upwards, trying to reach a ceiling, but to no avail. He quickly let his arms drop back, sighing only faintly.
"Help..."
He tried to scream, but his voice had turned hoarse by now, and his yell was nothing but a low guttural voice, barely heard from a few meters away. He attempted a few more times, but it was clearly fruitless, and it didn't take long before he surrendered.
For minutes there was perfect silence. Nothing but dead silence. He pondered about what had happened, but every time he tried to, the ache in his head returned. Each time, he groaned dimly, giving up on it aswell, letting the absolute stillness be heard again.
No more words, no more sounds and no more thoughts, his eyes close again and sleep for him is all that was left.
- Juliana D'cheyne
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A cloaked figure approaches the parchment. Catching the name "Jorokar", he is interested and reads the rest of the parchment. Having noticed Jorokar since the tournament, he had been keeping an interested eye on this young warrior. Seeing now that a coward had captured him, the cloaked figure crosses his arms and looks at the parchment in thought.
- Pellandria
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In the morning a flock of birds suddendly emits from the mists of the northern Woods, the reason was a scream in anger and after this, the cruel sound of a fist hitting a wooden door.
Pellandria stands before the "witch house" screaming again and kicking the door forcefully, blinking confused as suddendly spots of blood appear on the wooden Door, she mumbels some curses and stumbels back, just to find out that its her own blood. She looks down to her leather leggings, her right leg has a bleeding cut as the spike of a traps pierced trougth it, limbing to the nearest log she sits down and curses again "The witch house" she hisses, while rubbing a footleafe over the wound "would have been too easy". She looks up and blinks, as one of the few sunrays hit her face "The sun, yes this makes me happy" she mumbels and lets some green sparks fly over her wound, which closes soon.
Her mind flashes with pictures of Ayla and Jorokar "I have to find them" does the voice in her head repeat to the thousand time, while the dreaded dark voice laughs over her, as always, she stands up and looks around "Where are you" she asks the fog of the Woods.
Grumbling she takes her battlestaff from the ground, unlike her clothes and her own appeareance, her staff still looks new.
She beginns to walk away form the house, it took her days to find it, soon her now dirty clothes blend in with the forest, creating a perfect camouflage.
"Where is his hideout" she mumbels to herself"If its not here..is it the dragon layer?" she looks to the east, where the high mountains can be seen trougth the tree peaks" no this would be too dangerous.... maybe irundar, yes the hidden city, there are enough places to hide down there, even the maze would be a great hiding place" her boots keep on stomping on the ground, while she is looking around, searching for any clue "This is typical you, you stupid brat, you never can search them alone, you never can do something alone, you will fail, as you alw..." Pellandria banishes the voice back into her mind "Shut up"she murmurs under her breath. Her legs keep on carrying her trougth the norther Woods on her search for Jorokar and Ayla.
Pellandria stands before the "witch house" screaming again and kicking the door forcefully, blinking confused as suddendly spots of blood appear on the wooden Door, she mumbels some curses and stumbels back, just to find out that its her own blood. She looks down to her leather leggings, her right leg has a bleeding cut as the spike of a traps pierced trougth it, limbing to the nearest log she sits down and curses again "The witch house" she hisses, while rubbing a footleafe over the wound "would have been too easy". She looks up and blinks, as one of the few sunrays hit her face "The sun, yes this makes me happy" she mumbels and lets some green sparks fly over her wound, which closes soon.
Her mind flashes with pictures of Ayla and Jorokar "I have to find them" does the voice in her head repeat to the thousand time, while the dreaded dark voice laughs over her, as always, she stands up and looks around "Where are you" she asks the fog of the Woods.
Grumbling she takes her battlestaff from the ground, unlike her clothes and her own appeareance, her staff still looks new.
She beginns to walk away form the house, it took her days to find it, soon her now dirty clothes blend in with the forest, creating a perfect camouflage.
"Where is his hideout" she mumbels to herself"If its not here..is it the dragon layer?" she looks to the east, where the high mountains can be seen trougth the tree peaks" no this would be too dangerous.... maybe irundar, yes the hidden city, there are enough places to hide down there, even the maze would be a great hiding place" her boots keep on stomping on the ground, while she is looking around, searching for any clue "This is typical you, you stupid brat, you never can search them alone, you never can do something alone, you will fail, as you alw..." Pellandria banishes the voice back into her mind "Shut up"she murmurs under her breath. Her legs keep on carrying her trougth the norther Woods on her search for Jorokar and Ayla.
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The hatch opened, more shards of light shattering into the darkness of the humid cell where Jorokar was contained.
"Rise 'n shine, beauty, urgh."
Grunted a strong, grave voice from above. The shadowy frame of a large hulk, rather short orc at the surface was the source of the voice. A source that was swift to fade away from the opening as a ladder dropped down the hole, and this time, a cloaked human appeared, climbing down the ladder slowly.
Jorokar still stood to where he was left the first day, lying down on the ground. He wrinkled his forehead heavily as the the rays of light penetrated into the cell, quickly covering his face with his hands. He couldn't distinguish the figures, nor react to anything. His eyes remained closed on instinct, feeling a twinge when he tried to force them open. Nothing he could do but wait.
The so-called Seer climbed down the ladder slowly, pressing the lid of the hatch close, his right hand holding out a lighten torch. Reaching the ground, he stood at the opposite wall of Jorokar's resting place, and sunk the edge of the torch into the muddy wall, standing in front of it, facing the page to conceal any features off the lad's sight. He approached him slowly.
Listening to the noises, the young man tried to shovel his hands away from his face, forcing his eyelids open, yet the light emitted by his torch was still enough to blind him for a couple of more seconds. Again he stood there, his feeble body remaining motionless, too confused to even think and reason about the happening, but all he grasped was the silhouette of a mysterious figure on the other side of the chamber.
The dark personage slowly unsheathed a glimmering, steel dagger. The reflection of the fluttering flame reverberating upon the mirrory blade. With his free hand, he attained upwards to conceal his whole face, apart from his still-shadowy eyes. Raising the tip of his sticker towards the flare, he heated it, a few seconds passed until the angle glowed crimson. He smiles with a sealed pleasure, approaching the weakened man.
Jorokar focused his eyes on the glistening blade, taking some while before making out the shape of the object, and thus what it really was. He scrambled back, trashing himself on the floor until his back pressed with the clammy wall, shaking his head in disbelief as the only thoughts that rushed into his mind were pain, suffering and finally death. Stuck against the wall, he was paralyzed with fear and trepidation, his hands starting to quiver and his heart beating harder.
The faint silhouette approached, step by step, second by second, still holding on the handgrip of the dagger. He lowered roughly, reaching to take a hold of Jorokar's chin in the palm of his left hand, fondling it slowly, he quirked it backwards, slamming the man's head into the wall once.
The poor victim was still traumatized by the dark presence, the terror and tension in him rapidly increasing as his chin was grabbed, but still not showing any kind of response. His head was banged against the wall, his face grimaced suddenly and mouth opened, though no scream was articulated except for a croaky sound. His eyes remained closed then, hands dead on the ground.
The Seer still held upon the man's chin, controlling his head's every movements. He pinned it into the muddy wall, raising the heated dagger up to Jorokar's face, approaching his cheek slowly, the crimson beam glowing on the page's face. So close, so near, and he did it. Strucking the dagger down Jorokar's face, trailing the tip down to the man's chin, forming a timid scar upon the right side of his face. Out of the pocket of his cloak, a parchment he slided, placing it in the man's lap before pressing up, taking grasp of the torch, and placing it next to the man, creating light for him to read the note.
The warrior's head flicked to the side as the dagger slit his cheek, his face contorted as he gnashes his teeth in agony. He breathed heavily and noisily, trying to calm down, taking quite a while before opening his eyes just scarcely, his dirty trembling hands moving very slowly to get ahold of the paper. He read it with weak eyes, his painful scowl suddenly turning into a saddened and distraught expression. He closed his eyes again, laying silent in the corner of the wall, now the image of a person formed itself in his mind. He could have bared his own pain, but not of the suffering of that person in mind. He felt rage now, revenge, but he knew well enough he could do nothing but what had to be done. He strived and winced as he pushed himself up, his frail movements leading him to the ladder.
The man punched Jorokar at the ladder base, forbidding him to walk further. Grabbing an already-placed there rope to tie both his hands behind his back firmly, blindfolding his eyes away from sight completely with a long cloth, he helped him up the ladder.
A short, hulky being carried Jorokar on his shoulder, walking for miles and miles, for quite a long time, during the night of the 23rd of Siros. The stars were glimmering carelessly, crickets singing along the cold breeze of the night. Suddenly, he was dropped to the ground, clueless of where he was, still blinded.
"Dis beh da blace. Oomie comes back 'ere when times beh rite. Oomie know by self when times be rite. Oomie knows whub to come backs wid."
Grunted lowly the being, before untying his hands and scurrying, also cloaked, through the dense fog of the thick forest.
Jorokar, again, laid down on the ground. He slowly brough his hands, still shaking, up to his head, untying the blindfold. He opened his eyes just faintly, enough to get a blurred view of the surrounding, and seeing no one he just raised his knees to his chest, embracing them tightly. He stood there for minutes, if not hours, despair and distress governing his facial expression, and the thoughts of that letter just caused him to shed tears, the cold drops trickling down his scarred face. It took him quite a long while, before he made just enough courage to himself to stand up and heading to Trollsbane, slowly, weakened, beaten, scratched.
"Rise 'n shine, beauty, urgh."
Grunted a strong, grave voice from above. The shadowy frame of a large hulk, rather short orc at the surface was the source of the voice. A source that was swift to fade away from the opening as a ladder dropped down the hole, and this time, a cloaked human appeared, climbing down the ladder slowly.
Jorokar still stood to where he was left the first day, lying down on the ground. He wrinkled his forehead heavily as the the rays of light penetrated into the cell, quickly covering his face with his hands. He couldn't distinguish the figures, nor react to anything. His eyes remained closed on instinct, feeling a twinge when he tried to force them open. Nothing he could do but wait.
The so-called Seer climbed down the ladder slowly, pressing the lid of the hatch close, his right hand holding out a lighten torch. Reaching the ground, he stood at the opposite wall of Jorokar's resting place, and sunk the edge of the torch into the muddy wall, standing in front of it, facing the page to conceal any features off the lad's sight. He approached him slowly.
Listening to the noises, the young man tried to shovel his hands away from his face, forcing his eyelids open, yet the light emitted by his torch was still enough to blind him for a couple of more seconds. Again he stood there, his feeble body remaining motionless, too confused to even think and reason about the happening, but all he grasped was the silhouette of a mysterious figure on the other side of the chamber.
The dark personage slowly unsheathed a glimmering, steel dagger. The reflection of the fluttering flame reverberating upon the mirrory blade. With his free hand, he attained upwards to conceal his whole face, apart from his still-shadowy eyes. Raising the tip of his sticker towards the flare, he heated it, a few seconds passed until the angle glowed crimson. He smiles with a sealed pleasure, approaching the weakened man.
Jorokar focused his eyes on the glistening blade, taking some while before making out the shape of the object, and thus what it really was. He scrambled back, trashing himself on the floor until his back pressed with the clammy wall, shaking his head in disbelief as the only thoughts that rushed into his mind were pain, suffering and finally death. Stuck against the wall, he was paralyzed with fear and trepidation, his hands starting to quiver and his heart beating harder.
The faint silhouette approached, step by step, second by second, still holding on the handgrip of the dagger. He lowered roughly, reaching to take a hold of Jorokar's chin in the palm of his left hand, fondling it slowly, he quirked it backwards, slamming the man's head into the wall once.
The poor victim was still traumatized by the dark presence, the terror and tension in him rapidly increasing as his chin was grabbed, but still not showing any kind of response. His head was banged against the wall, his face grimaced suddenly and mouth opened, though no scream was articulated except for a croaky sound. His eyes remained closed then, hands dead on the ground.
The Seer still held upon the man's chin, controlling his head's every movements. He pinned it into the muddy wall, raising the heated dagger up to Jorokar's face, approaching his cheek slowly, the crimson beam glowing on the page's face. So close, so near, and he did it. Strucking the dagger down Jorokar's face, trailing the tip down to the man's chin, forming a timid scar upon the right side of his face. Out of the pocket of his cloak, a parchment he slided, placing it in the man's lap before pressing up, taking grasp of the torch, and placing it next to the man, creating light for him to read the note.
The warrior's head flicked to the side as the dagger slit his cheek, his face contorted as he gnashes his teeth in agony. He breathed heavily and noisily, trying to calm down, taking quite a while before opening his eyes just scarcely, his dirty trembling hands moving very slowly to get ahold of the paper. He read it with weak eyes, his painful scowl suddenly turning into a saddened and distraught expression. He closed his eyes again, laying silent in the corner of the wall, now the image of a person formed itself in his mind. He could have bared his own pain, but not of the suffering of that person in mind. He felt rage now, revenge, but he knew well enough he could do nothing but what had to be done. He strived and winced as he pushed himself up, his frail movements leading him to the ladder.
The man punched Jorokar at the ladder base, forbidding him to walk further. Grabbing an already-placed there rope to tie both his hands behind his back firmly, blindfolding his eyes away from sight completely with a long cloth, he helped him up the ladder.
A short, hulky being carried Jorokar on his shoulder, walking for miles and miles, for quite a long time, during the night of the 23rd of Siros. The stars were glimmering carelessly, crickets singing along the cold breeze of the night. Suddenly, he was dropped to the ground, clueless of where he was, still blinded.
"Dis beh da blace. Oomie comes back 'ere when times beh rite. Oomie know by self when times be rite. Oomie knows whub to come backs wid."
Grunted lowly the being, before untying his hands and scurrying, also cloaked, through the dense fog of the thick forest.
Jorokar, again, laid down on the ground. He slowly brough his hands, still shaking, up to his head, untying the blindfold. He opened his eyes just faintly, enough to get a blurred view of the surrounding, and seeing no one he just raised his knees to his chest, embracing them tightly. He stood there for minutes, if not hours, despair and distress governing his facial expression, and the thoughts of that letter just caused him to shed tears, the cold drops trickling down his scarred face. It took him quite a long while, before he made just enough courage to himself to stand up and heading to Trollsbane, slowly, weakened, beaten, scratched.
- Skaalib Drurr
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- Location: A place which I call home......
- The Returner
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- abcfantasy
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In the midst of the chilly night, the silence had once again returned. This time he was in a comfortable bed, warm under the sheets. But was it any better?
No, he just couldn't sleep, the torments in his mind persisted. Many questions possessed his brains and he just grimaced at each one, not knowing the answers.
"Why? Why can't I live happily? Why can't I escape from trouble? Is it misery that always meet me, or is it me that I always meet it?"
He struggled on the bed, trying to get rid of these unanswerable questions but they just kept coming.
"Why am I so weak? Why can't I fight? Why couldn't I react? And why did I feel so much fear and dread? Months of training, but the feelings I felt would be the same hadn't I done any. A strong Jorokar? That's nothing but a dream."
He was now sweating, but the image of a person was enough to calm him down. He opened his eyes, the melancholy and grief had by now dominated his face. He would have given anything to see her, but then again, he didn't want to be seen now, not in this situation and in this state of mind.
With this, his thoughts drove back to the unbearable place he was in and the note. He was horrible at taking decisions, he was frightened to take them alone. Others may have offered help, but he still felt he was alone, all lonely in his own shadowed world.
Thinking did nothing but making him suffer, more and more. It was useless. He closed his eyes, the stillness returned, and he finally slept, but certainly, a long nice sleep was not to be expected.
No, he just couldn't sleep, the torments in his mind persisted. Many questions possessed his brains and he just grimaced at each one, not knowing the answers.
"Why? Why can't I live happily? Why can't I escape from trouble? Is it misery that always meet me, or is it me that I always meet it?"
He struggled on the bed, trying to get rid of these unanswerable questions but they just kept coming.
"Why am I so weak? Why can't I fight? Why couldn't I react? And why did I feel so much fear and dread? Months of training, but the feelings I felt would be the same hadn't I done any. A strong Jorokar? That's nothing but a dream."
He was now sweating, but the image of a person was enough to calm him down. He opened his eyes, the melancholy and grief had by now dominated his face. He would have given anything to see her, but then again, he didn't want to be seen now, not in this situation and in this state of mind.
With this, his thoughts drove back to the unbearable place he was in and the note. He was horrible at taking decisions, he was frightened to take them alone. Others may have offered help, but he still felt he was alone, all lonely in his own shadowed world.
Thinking did nothing but making him suffer, more and more. It was useless. He closed his eyes, the stillness returned, and he finally slept, but certainly, a long nice sleep was not to be expected.
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- Posts: 36
- Joined: Sun Mar 25, 2007 10:26 pm
Loitering in the benighted corners of the shadowed Town's Walls. Following a few night-crawlers pass by, a veiled, depressing being glues a note upon the boards. It interprets:
Dantagon, good friend.
I hope my messenger has delivered you our demand to start meditating about releasing a prisoner, and perhaps stop abducting any more?
I want that title ripped off the Knighthood, officially, and practically. I will know if you still act as Protectors of Trollsbane, and will be displeased. You wouldn't want to displease a good acquaintance of yours, would you?
You have until the 1st of Bras to make your decision. ((Wednesday, 4th of April)).
Breach the deadline, and I'll send Jorokar back missing fingers, and perhaps an eye. Or two.
A red eye, with a tear on its edge is drawn underneath the note.
Dantagon, good friend.
I hope my messenger has delivered you our demand to start meditating about releasing a prisoner, and perhaps stop abducting any more?
I want that title ripped off the Knighthood, officially, and practically. I will know if you still act as Protectors of Trollsbane, and will be displeased. You wouldn't want to displease a good acquaintance of yours, would you?
You have until the 1st of Bras to make your decision. ((Wednesday, 4th of April)).
Breach the deadline, and I'll send Jorokar back missing fingers, and perhaps an eye. Or two.
A red eye, with a tear on its edge is drawn underneath the note.