Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Postby Cobalt_Steel » Sat Sep 08, 2007 1:14 pm

She was in that familiar dreamscape once again, the one she’d been having for the last ten years, with slowly decreasing frequency.

She was back in the village that she had grown up in, and it seemed as though the entire world was on fire. The buildings around her were burning, and there were bodies littered everywhere. Their faces a mask of tormented agony, a visage frozen there from the moment of death. All of them had died in a manner most horrid, and the sword used to slay them still hung from her hand, her fingers frozen about the hilt with an icy grip.

The loud howling had finally abandoned her mind, leaving her thoughts as her own once more. The beast that had so thrust her aside, and taken control of her body retreated back into the darkest corners of her mind.

She was covered with blood and substances best left unnamed, and her skin crawled with the feeling of the substance upon it. Her mind was in a state of shock. Had she really just killed all these people?

The sword finally dropped from her fingers, landing with a metallic clatter upon the ground beside her.

_____________________________

As the sword struck the ground beside her, Feather awoke with a start, the sound still ringing in her ears, tears flowing unbidden from the corners of her eyes. The dream brought forth memories best left in the dark recesses of her mind. It had been the night her family died, almost ten years ago, but in the light of tormented memory, it seemed as though it had only been yesterday.

From the warn fire in the fireplace, a loud chirp came, and the shadows of half light danced about as the creature moved about within the flames. She rolled over onto her side, peering into the flames; the worried looking dancing sapphire orbs of the little down covered baby phoenix peered back at her.

She rolled out of the bed, and moved upon silent feet to kneel down beside the fireplace, and scooped the little bird out of the fireplace with the forge mitt she’d left there for just that propose. The little bird continued to peer worriedly at her as she hugged the little creature to her chest.

“It’s alright, little one. I just had that nightmare again. It’s nothing to worry about.â€
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Postby Tiger » Mon Sep 10, 2007 8:18 pm

The hunt had been called for some time now. A very long time of updates, chases for wild geese, roads with dead ends, and false tracks. More than a hand’s count of times had he traveled weeks to follow such threads that ended in a frayed and frazzled ends. Called away from wife and home to track a murderer who proved as efficient at disappearing as they were at the job they had left.

Desmond sat at the foot of his bed, plate and mail covering him from foot to throat, save for a bared left hand - its second smallest finger displaying a smooth golden band which shone in the steady lantern light of his room in the Dagger. As with many things, it was a symbol: a circle that always brought him around, a link from a chain that bound him to the strength of another and the other to him, a token of love, a symbol of worth, and always a promise of protection. May God will that he would not need such protection today. The glimmer was extinguished as a leather glove was slipped onto his left hand, the back of it fitted with iron plates had never been ground or polished after their final removal from the fires of the forge, leaving them a deep black.

He stood and inspected his reflection in the mirror. That unpolished gauntlet stood out stark contrast to the gleaming white armor that adorned his form. The plates were well crafted and well fitted, though they lacked any ornate engraving, shaping, or painting, save for the spaulders. From those metal plates atop his shoulders sprouted the torsos of two birds, their wings frozen backward as though captured while beating their wings furiously, attempting to escape the call of the ground. Metal plates heaved as a deep sigh left his lips. Half a dozen plus one pale scars accentuated his angular jawline and harshly chiseled face which was wreathed by straw colored hair that framed his otherwise tanned skin. Thin braids gathered from hair near the ears hung down each side of his head while hair gathered from the crown fell braded down the back, their presence a promise that if things got wild he wouldn’t have to worry about those long strands falling in his face. It was now or never. To delay this would only delay his return home. Justice would not see fit to wait any longer.

A pivot of sabaton-protected feet and a few long-legged strides brought him to his shield, emblazoned with the scales of justice. Taking a moment to strap it loosely to his back, he would reach next for the alloyed silver warhammer next to it and slip the wooden handle through a broken in leather loop at his waist. Now or never.
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Passing Regrets

Postby Cobalt_Steel » Mon Sep 10, 2007 8:45 pm

The Hankyu sat upon the counter of the front room of the shop, her legs tucked neatly underneath herself. In her hands was a small amulet of fine silver surrounding a rather large, golf ball sized ruby, which glowed with its own inner light. The glow within the stone pulsated as she wiggled the silver with a pair of small jeweler’s pliers, trying to get the band to stay in place in the groove cut upon the stone.

A soft growl of frustration left the Artisan’s lips as the silver once again slipped from the groove before she could fasten it. It just did not want to go together right now. With a disgusted snort, she set the work aside, lifting callused fingers to run them through her recently cut, short, spiky light brown locks.

Fingers moved down to fiddle with the drawstrings upon the front of her dark colored leather tunic, another soft sigh escaping her lips. Softly glowing eyes peered at the doorway, out of focus as the elf turned her thoughts once more to the dream of the night before.

It’d been ten long years since that night, and those years had not been kind to the teenager, stripping her of all visages of youth, and leaving her old before her time, though her features still portrayed her youth. She’d lost almost her entire family that night, as well as all that she had ever known to that point. Somehow, she’d managed to survive this long without the help that having a family would provide, and the goddess had been kind to her in giving her a family of her own making. But still she was haunted by what she’d lost.

She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t run that night. If she’d remained there until someone had found her. But she hadn’t stayed. As a result, she knew she had a bounty on her head. Her running had done nothing to give cause for any to believe her innocence. Even though her hand had been the one that had done those atrocious things to those in her village, her will had not been her own. Not that the issue had changed the fact that she knew she now had a bounty on her head, and it was only a matter of time before someone came to claim it.

It was with those thoughts she was pulled from by the sound of the bell chiming as the door was opened.
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Postby Tiger » Tue Sep 11, 2007 6:10 am

Feather's Woodworks. This was the place. There was an irony in learning that the woman he met his first night would turn to be the woman he had been tasked to track down - an irony that was not lost on him as he inspected his slowly growing shadow cast by the afternoon sun. The black-gauntleted hand gave the handle a turn and gentle pull to give him admittance into the front room of the house/business.

He dipped his head to pass into the building, eyes focused immediately on the demon-appearing woman sat upon the counter. "Feather." A firm, deep voice resonated in the room. The word was extended like a solemn greeting before he continued. "Also known as Darkfeather Mulahn." Long strides brought him into the middle of the shop where he would stop and fold his arms against his chest. "Also known as Starfeather Thistleburr of Silverwood." Words flowed freely, the resolve behind them strong. They did not seem to be words of accusation, but words of acknowledgement. "By the will of Tyr the Evenhanded you are to be questioned as to the fate of Silverwood. Due to your elusiveness in this matter to this point I ask you to accompany me to the local jail, where arrangements have been made with the local constabulary." In the delivery of justice one was required to have a certain amount of people skills, as justice was a tool of the people and for the people. Cleric, healer, diplomat, and justicar, Desmond made his best attempt at civility - it was not truly arrest, simply holding, and there was an implication that there would be certain amenities made. But… could she trust him to do such a thing? Only time would tell now…
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Tue Sep 11, 2007 9:07 am

She tilted her head a bit looking away from the bright shine of the armor as the visitor stepped across the threshold into the shop proper, the door closing behind him with a resounding bang. Like the closing of a tomb door, or so the master artisan thought dryly. A fitting thought, with the words that flow out of the visitor’s mouth. Hmm. So they’d finally managed to catch up with her.

She returns his greeting, her face a mask of caution and weariness, “Desmond.â€
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Postby Tiger » Tue Sep 11, 2007 10:28 am

A sigh escaped the lips of the large cleric of Tyr. A roll of bright blue eyes nearly accompanied it. He'd have almost rather had her attempt to resist - almost.

"This can go easily, Feather. The Temple of Tyr needs to know what happened in Silverwood." He remained still, hands falling only slightly tense at his sides, feet barely offset and shoulderwidth apart. "We knew of the power that was held there. That alone gives us good suspect as to the events that transpired. Your wriggling only serves to show that you know more than we."

He moved now, approaching the counter - approaching Feather. "You've been followed to this place. The name Starfeather has been heard from the lips of others as they address you. I know you once used the name. Please spare me the philosophical half-truth that Starfeather Thistleburr is dead." He approached just close enough to be out of range of physical contact of any kind and took up that same position again.

"I will arrest you if need be - I have been given that authority by the local law in this matter. However it would be easier and look better for you if you came with me under the guise of being willing to find justice in this case. Please." A hand was extended - a final move of diplomacy and attempt to help her save herself - she didn't seem the person to do such a thing of her own accord. "Justice understands that you are not at fault while under another's charm. Let me help you."
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Tue Sep 11, 2007 11:42 am

A sigh escapes the Hankyu elf as she regards the paladin before her, a look of mild annoyance crossing her features. The little bird in her hands lets out a loud chirp, pulling her attention back down to the little puffball. Another stroke is given to the little creature’s head, as the baby phoenix regards her solemnly with dancing sapphire eyes.

She remains silent for a long moment, lost in quiet contemplation, peering into the eyes of the little bird in her hand, till the little bird sways back and forth in her hands, fluttering her wings, breaking the moment. She lifts her gaze to regard the paladin, a slight smirk upon her face.

“You claim you want justice in this matter? You’re a little too late. Thraxis has already been imprisoned again, no thanks to your ilk. Where were your kinds when he got free, hmm? How come it took you ten years to catch up with me if you were following me?â€
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Postby Tiger » Thu Sep 13, 2007 6:13 pm

The black-mailed hand remained outstretched, though Desmond took a step forward such that he would be close enough for the hand to be an offer to help her down from the countertop. Afterall - Desmond did understand chivalry.

"Let us walk and talk on this matter," said Desmond, the scars on his face bending as his lips curved into a smile.

He'd lead her to the door if she accepted - and in walking she would find he preferred to walk at her side as opposed to in front of or behind her. Regardless of what she might choose, an explanation was forthcoming. "You see, this matter was not originally our doing - but it was a situation we agreed to oversee. Perhaps you recall the small groups of our temple who would travel through your town and check on the status of things. Perhaps not - and if so it is likely a combination of facts: that you were young and that it would be a fool's task to send regular patrols to your village for no reason. When one has a secret like that it's usually not a good idea to draw attention to it." Desmond frowned in thought there. "The trick is that this was never supposed to happen. Not simply because of the demon's capture... but also that those of your village were "gifted" with talents that should have helped keep the thing at bay long enough for help to arrive." Obviously, however, that seemed to have failed for some reason or another. The reimprisionment of the demon, however, was a topic that was skipped for now - tempting as it may have been to persue. Considering the woman was being taken to the jail at the moment she had a right to know a certain degree of what was happening before such questioning began.
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Tue Sep 18, 2007 1:09 pm

She looked down at the offered hand, listening to his story.

“Yes, I do remember those small parties coming into the village from time to time. I never knew what they were there for, just that they came, visited the elders, then left again.

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, then setting the little bird on one of her horns, where the little puffball wobbles for a moment, then finds her grip.

“How long is this going to take? I don’t live here alone, you know. They’re going to wonder where I’ve gotten off to, and undoubtedly worry. You mind if I go and leave them a note, tell them where I am?â€
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Postby Tiger » Fri Sep 21, 2007 4:44 pm

Desmond blinked in startled suprise. He hadn't actually considered that detail. Such goes to show that it's inevitable to cover every facet when working with a gem such as the one he had been given.

"Oh! Of course not. With any luck this shouldn't take much beyond the evening." Desmond nodded, but remained holding the gauntleted hand to offer her the assistance in getting down.
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Fri Sep 21, 2007 5:11 pm

She nodded, looking down at the hand for a moment, then back up at his face. Giving an apologetic look, she slides down off the counter. She never has liked anyone she didn’t know touching her, even in a casual manner.

She walked back around the counter, digging around behind it for a moment, then pulling out a blank scroll, and a stick of charcoal. A note is written in flowing elvish script. A simple note, stating that she had some business that needed to be taken care of, and that she would be back later in the evening.

The note is simply left on the counter where she was sitting. She motions for the paladin to lead the way.
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Postby Tiger » Thu Sep 27, 2007 3:44 am

Rejected hand was withdrawn, producing an invoulentary shrug from the man once Feather had turned her back on him. Once the note was done, he would give her a nod and set for the door and back to the outside world.

"But yes. Those patrols were not simple missionaries but were there to check on things. So 'where we were' was watching as best we could from a distance just as we had been for centuries. That this happened is a tragedy and it doesn't take someone involved in it to understand that."

The front door of the shop was grasped in a polished steel gauntlet and opened, offering Feather the chance to exit the door first.
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Postby Cobalt_Steel » Wed Oct 03, 2007 4:34 pm

A hulking brute covered in the same shiny full plate stands sentinel next to the door as the two exit the shop. His face hidden by the shadows of his full-face helm, which turns to gaze at them as they pass by, then falls into step on the other side of the tiefling-looking elf.

The elf glances over at the other paladin, and falls back a step, not wanting to be stuck between the two walls of metal. She shoves her hands into her pockets, her gaze dropping down the ground before her, pondering the paladin’s words for a moment.

“You said that our tribe was.. Mm.. Gifted? I didn’t realize that the blessing was public knowledge. It’s held as a clan secret, or was while the clan was still alive. It tended to make sure that the advantage wasn’t neutralized if we were ever set upon from an outside force. I don’t think they counted on the demon getting loose the way he did. Or that he would pick me for such.â€
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