Stranded.

Postby Cobalt_Steel » Thu May 03, 2007 6:58 am

She doesn't struggle too much. She's not in any condition to object, and not mentally present enough to think much. Good luck keeping her on her feet, though. Her leg's broken as well.
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Thu May 03, 2007 8:56 am

OOC note : I just realised this. I've never given a description of Feather.

Feather is a young teenage elf, whom stands about 5 foot two inches in height, with a stocky build that fills out the clothing she wears. More so then an elf's body should, giving her a very stocky appearance. Very light, almost white hair cascades down to her shoulders, cut to fall straight down. Another feature that distinguishes this elf from her kin is the fact that her eyes, while a silver blue in color, glow with thier own eiry light. Behind her, a long, whiplike tail with a little spade on the end flicks into view occationally, and upon her back are a pair of large, batlike wings, which don't quite seem stiff enough of bone to be useful. They're bound up with leather straps, to keep them from dragging on the ground.

For clothing, she's dressed in the style of a well off merchent, a soft, dark blue velvety tunic, cut to fit a little big on her stocky form, and black, soft leather britches, held up with a belt. Upon the belt is a small sheith, containing a small, unordinated dagger. Around her neck is a pendant on a silver chain. The pendant is a ring made of fine jade, and ordimented with engravings of a dragon and a phoniex, carved just deep enough to give a feeling of surface, without disturbing the overall smooth feel of the jade.
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Postby Varese » Thu May 03, 2007 10:10 am

Ignas of the Healthy Lungs is raising a very fine racket indeed, but the one that summoned Feather to Myrkentown was by far its superior. It spoke to more than the ears, after all, tugged at most unnatural senses -- And called to the sole talent of this lone creature, drawing her as surely as if it'd sunk teeth into the substance of her, and roughly shaken.

She is already crossing the building's threshold, filthy hands gripping tightly to doorframe, to wall, to counter, as if she had little confidence in the fact of gravity. There is no ounce of prettiness in her, for she is feminine only in the loosest of senses: these features verge on androgyny, much like the narrow-limbed body and its dun-brown coveralls. That is what approaches Demonsbane and stricken Feather, and in a husky rasp of a voice:

"Onde está a transição?

"Merhaba. Dziendobry. Hello. Tena yistilign -- "

And quietens, on seeing the state Feather's in. The shape of the man bent over her.

The dagger in his hand.
"Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know."
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Thu May 03, 2007 10:24 am

It is at that point, in the appearance of the second person, that Feather's leg gives out from underneith her, the pain too much for her to keep herself upright. Down she goes, back to the floor with a grunt of pain.

Falling in a crumpled heap, she doesn't move, doesn't acnolage the existance of the others around her, droplets of congeled blood dripping off her form from the new possition. Her tunic is undoubtably ruined. The light goes out in the softly glowing eyes.

Seems she's once again uncontious.
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Postby Usagi » Thu May 03, 2007 10:28 am

The wooden clat of her quarterstaff met the ground with a rhythmic symphony of sounds from the city itself. No stone was braced for the tip, nor metal core to grant assure stability. Just the slowly whithering wood that was gripped loosely in the being's hand. The pads of paws clambered about the way, silently progressing down the path. Not that she was actively hiding her presence. Simply moving. Not that one could in such a heat

An oddity she was. Six feet tall without counting the large ears that sprouted from her frame. The drawstring of the tunyanii's blouse was slightly undone with the bristles of heat granting a glaze to her fur. Why did she have to come to such a blazingly hot place? The heat alone was enough to drive one insane. Why couldn't it remain a nice comfortable temperature like the catacombs back home.

Well... at least she left her ass at the inn. The braying heathen had finally gained her ire. Not even a light chuckle from the beast from her jokes. Not a one. How could that creature even dare ... nevermind. She best not think about it. Gods the heat.

She paused.

The surcoat of the Sanctorum hung limply, weakly moving to try and act dramatics. Another thing that irked her. How long.. nevermind. Blood. She did smell blood that was for sure. The tunyannii grasped the limbo of her face veil, raising it to cover her muzzle.

"Qui'luxon, protect and guide your children from the Dragon and his ways." She muttered, looking about. That was a strong scent of blood indeed. "Grant your mercy upon the souls of the dead." Now where would it be coming from... " And if they don't rest use my hands for their guidance..." Blasted prayer. Who cared anyway? "... And my life for their peace."

The first rite muttered quietly, it was not time to go about her business as a nosey individual. It really was quite the splended life. All sorts of yelling and things going on oh yes. Hmm... And then came the shout of murder. That was most definetly one of the best things about being nosey once invited, there was all sorts of things one could pry out of the situation. The quarterstaff whirled about and rested against the inside of her forearm as her hand gripped about the middle.

"Hello?" She called back as she approached the suspected location. "Heard a bit about murder wot?"
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Fri May 04, 2007 8:47 pm

Several days had passed since the magical explotion in the back room of the shop. The demon hunter had tied up the injured half demon, and left to avoid suspicion. A short time after he had left, the half demon herself had been removed from the scene by an odd looking visitor to the town, and seems to have dissapeared. The mess, however, remains in the back room of the shop.

It will undoubtably be discovered by the athorities soon. An investigation will be had. The evidence, though.. Points in a very, very odd direction. The blood and tissue that have been splattered across the walls.. It is not Tunyannii blood as the half elf had believed when it happened. The blood and tissue that covers the walls.. Is half demon. Of the same type and such of that of the owner of the shop. And the owner hasn't been seen, save by the three that came into the shop, since.

Questions will need to be answered.
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SunArrow

Postby Sherazade » Sun May 06, 2007 9:12 am

He was dreaming again.. well wrapped in the embrace of a familiar nightmare. He'd been away searching for the truth of who he was and where he was from. Suddenly he had elt the urge to return to his wife to her family and what had become his beloved home. Carnage had greeted his gaze.. burned homes and broken bodies.. none had been left alive... It was worse around the shattered stone of binding .. here it seemed the bodies had been tortured, feasted upon in a depraved manner.. it was as if they had died caught between unbelieveable pleasure and excruixating pain. It had escaped... thats why he had been driven to return.. why he had raced back barely stopping to eat and sleep the geas had pulled him...But he was too late. He fell to his knees beside the battered form of what had been his wife and taking her in his arms threw his head back and howled his distress at a moon cloaked in shadow and blood.

He awoke with a start, a scream caught in his throat, the lingering fragments of the nightmare still clinging to his conscious mind, a stirring that he hadn't felt in several years pulling somewhere deep in his gut. Was it a lingering fragment of the dream? No.. His contious mind awoke more fully. It was real. The geas was pulling upon him again.

"demon spawn" he hissed through clenched teeth "now you will pay" . Sleep was forgotten now, banished from his mind and body by the force that pulled at his soul, sang its melody through his blood. Fluid motin brought him to is feet, daggers sliding into the sheaths on his belt, quiver full of arrrows and oilskin wrapped bow strpped to his back. Fingers raked through long tresses of pale fawn hue caught them within a simple leather thong and then he was off and running moving through wood, field and village like a wraith.. a ghost upon the wind. The geas called and must no be ignored.
Words of wisdom for life

Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Sun May 06, 2007 9:22 am

Several more days passed, and still the half demon elf had not been seen, or heard from. Still, the blood remained, dryed by now upon the walls of the workshop. Still, noone noticed. The door remained unlocked, and noone further had come in to investigate.

At least the smell has finally gone away as the blood dried. Still, the place was a magical becon to those whom had the power to sense such things. Powerful magic had been worked here, and powerful magic had gone horribly wrong. It's not everyone that can wield such a power. In fact, it seemed to be beyond anything that the half elf herself had ever shown the potential to do.

At best, all she had ever done was enchant items with thier own magic. She'd never been seen working such magic in any other way. No. The power had to have come from somewhere else..
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Postby Sherazade » Wed May 09, 2007 10:00 am

In the stillness of mornings early hours, he was a shadow amongst shadows, an insubstanial thing that slithered along the walls of bulidings. The Pull was stronger now, almost a painful thing as its impatience grew.. "I'm coming" He muttered low musical tones spearing through thick silence. And suddenly the pull was gone... that persistant ache just vanished as if it had never been. Mulberry depths slid sideways, towards a shop whose door was ajar... there was a whisper then a scent of something familiar and eaving the street he stepped inside.

Moments later he staggered back outside leaned against a hitching post gasping for air... "so much blood" he murmured to no one as his mind was taunted by memories of the night of breaking. Tongue darted across his lips cleaning away the last lingering trace of the demons taint the peculiar faint wrongness its passing always left. Where to start looking for it, he had no idea, so he would need lodgings until the geas pulled again told him where he should go. It was with this in mind he turned his steps towards the broken dagger... a whisper heard from the lips of others who had been there before
Words of wisdom for life

Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Wed May 09, 2007 10:37 am

The taint of the demon, as always, continues to pull upon those bound by the geas. Perhaps that is what leads the elf to seek lodgings at that paticular in, weather or not he realises. The demon is near. There is no doubt about that. Those bound by the geas could feel his presence from anywhere in the city, though there seems to be something that is keeping an exact location from being revealed to them.

It is not until much later that night, when the rays of dawn begin to touch the sky in the east, painting the pinpoint scattered darkness a cobalt blue of the premorning light that the pull is felt once more. This time, the demon is very, very close to the geas bound elf.
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