#1
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Chapter 1: A Journey Always Begins With One Step
Prologue There is really only one thing that an outsider needs to know about the planet, Agrathall. Don't go there! Not that the majority of its residents have much choice in the matter. Being a relatively underdeveloped planet, as such things go, they have not yet discovered electricity, let alone the ability to travel through space and time. Therefore, the primary population of Agrathall is indigenous to their respective regions, never dreaming that there are other worlds beyond their own. But I don't want to sit here and badmouth the place as though it has no useful qualities at all. The planet itself is rather nice. It is composed primarily of salt water seas and has but one large continent upon its surface. The ratio, if you're interested is roughly three quarters water, to one quarter land, and the planets circumference is right around fifty thousand miles (those are universal miles, mind you). The continent is called two different names, and that stems from the root of the problem of why an outsider should never go there. The planet is war torn to such a degree, that the entire population, below the age of three hundred and thirty three (there are some extremely long lived races on Agrathall), has never known a world without peace. To the recognized ruling power, the continent is called the United Empire of Taras (or Tarasian Empire); Taras being the 1st ruler to unify all of the regions under one power. Of course any ruler who names an entire continent after himself is bound to be bad news, and as such things go, it was not long into the 1st dynasty that the alliances began to crumble. But I don't want to bore you with a history lesson so I'll try to make it quick. The only other important thing to know is that upon Taras's death, his eldest son, Sinigul, took the throne, and if you think the father was bad, watch out! This guy was a total d-bag! He began to tax countries within the Empire based on personal bias. That was pretty bad all by itself and he managed to collapse the entire economy of Taras in the first five years of his rule. People were starving in the street, killing each other for food. The price of heating oil skyrocketed so the people started harvesting the trees of the Great Forest to the east. This of course angered the dwarves who called that land their own, and they closed off their borders, executing anyone who dared pass beneath the branches of their beloved trees. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, Sinigul started to annihilate the native tribes who lived in the frozen northern region of the continent. In two years the entire population had been killed or sent to the mines of the southern deserts. As a result of these atrocities, the rebel force calling themselves the Hand of Fyr (Fyr being an ancient god said to have created Agrathall), rose up and began to fight back against the Tarasian Empire. They declared that each region was now free to govern themselves as they like. Furthermore, they declared the ancient treaties were no longer valid, thus removing the bloodline of Taras as the rulers of the continent, which would henceforth be called, Fyrfall. And so began the Great War... For three hundred and thirty three years the struggle has continued, unabated. I would like to tell you that at the opening of the story begins with you and your companions poised to bring the Empire to its knees, and that the fate of the world rests in your hands. Unfortunately, this is not that type of story, and sadly it will not be that type of story in your lifetimes. It does, however, begin with you chained and shackled in a prison camp! As rebel soldiers, scouts, and spies, you have all been captured. Not an auspicious beginning I know, but wait! There's more! You have all been there for three days. Your troop was ambushed, and you later found out that you were betrayed by a particularly weasely type of fellow know as, Flan. He had joined your group about a year prior and had seemed eager enough, but there was always something off about him. Now you know why... The prison camp is not much to look at. Tall, wooden walls line the perimeter, with a walkway near the top that the guards use to keep a birds-eye view on everything in the main yard. The yard is dirt, although you are in the northern climate of the continent and it has been covered in snow since your arrival. As a prisoner you are kept in a canvas tent at night. It does little to shelter you from the bitter cold, but it does help to cut the wind chill slightly. It is only large enough for one person, but you and your group have managed to secure tents nearby each other. You are fed once a day near mid-afternoon and your attire consists of thin canvas breeches and a jacket made of the same material. You were allowed to keep whatever footwear you had previously owned, although it is in constant jeopardy from the other inmates, many of whom have been here much longer than you, and as such, have regressed into packs of animal-like men. No one is supposed to have weapons, but many of the more psychotic types have fashioned knives and clubs from rudimentary objects. It is extremely dangerous, and extremely cold. It is right after your daily feeding on the third day that you and your companions are gathered together and brought into the Torture House. Obviously that was not its official name, but all of the inmates called it that and so it had naturally inundated your vocabulary as well. The building itself was situated near the only gate in or out of the place. You are shoved, still shackled through its front door and for the first time in three days find yourself in out of the cold. It is a single room with, a few tables and chairs scattered about here and there with oil lights burning atop them. It is the fireplace in the right all that draws your attention, however, and you can feel yourself inching towards it as the soldiers continue to shove you towards a stairway in the middle of the room. The stairway leads downward, into the earth, and you realize, as you begin to descend, that there must be a subterranean construct beneath the main camp. The stairway is not long and dumps you out into a tunnel, lined by stone and lit by torches perched in niches carved into the walls. Down the tunnel you go until it abruptly spills you out into what must be a naturally formed cavern. The cavern is enormous, easily a hundred feet tall and five or six times that wide. It is all brightly lit, be it by torches, or by large fires burning in braziers around the room. It is quite warm and you can feel your fingers and toes tingling as the cold begins to release its grip on you. In the About 200' awaycenter of the cavern is a large crystal growing up from the earthen floor to a height of around ten feet. It is a clear, bluish color and reflects the light around the room in odd and disorienting ways. Standing near the crystal is a man. He has his back to you and seems to be hunched over a table, or alter, that has been situated near the crystals base. A rough shove in your back reminds you that you have escorts and you make your way down some stone steps onto a walkway that has been built across the floor of the cave. As you approach, the man near the crystal turns and you can see that he is blind, his eyes glazed over by white cataracts. He is dressed in a purple robe and long white hair spills down his shoulders. It is obvious that he is very old, but when he speaks, his voice is strong and full of command. “Are these the ones?” He directs his question towards one of the guards behind you. The guard affirms as much by shoving you in the back hard enough to send you sprawling at the old man’s feet. When you look up the old man is looking down at you and you begin to suspect that he may not be as blind as you previously though. “Leave us.” He says. The guards shift slightly, but they do not leave and the old man’s gaze rises from you to them. “Shall I tell his Lordship that the experiment has been further delayed because his men know not how to follow orders?” The guard spits on the ground and glares at the old man. “Fine by me! It’s your neck.” He waves his arm in the air and the rest of the guards that had escorted you there, begin to make their way out of the cavern. When they are gone the old man grunts and turns back to the altar. You can see now that there is an open book on its surface and he appears to be reading from it. Not sure what to do, you pick yourself up from the ground and wait. It only takes a few moments before he begins to speak. “They’re all damned fools! You do realize that don’t you?” His back is still towards you and his head is still lowered towards the book. As a result you are unsure if the question was directed at you or your companions. Apparently it was, though, because after receiving no response he whirls around and glares at you through his seemingly sightless eyes. “Well? Are you deaf and dumb?” Still unsure what to say you struggle for a response, but end up instead looking thoroughly bewildered. “Oh, never mind.” He grumbles. “Do you at least know why you’re here? No, no, of course you don’t. How could you?” He shakes his head and totters over to the crystal, placing a withered hand upon it. “This, my friends, is a miracle. A piece of Fyr’s Arrow right here in front of you. How does that make your rebellious hearts feel, eh?” You know the story of Fyr’s Arrow. The story goes that once long ago, Fyr and his brother had been out hunting when they saw an enormous stag. Overcome, the two gods began squabbling over who was to kill it and it ended in a fistfight, which Fyr won. So shaken was he after the fight, however, that he missed his shot and the arrow had plunged to Agrathall, awakening the great beast within the earth. The beast had been lazy on that day apparently, and had merely shrugged it shoulders and gone back to its slumber. Out of that shrug, however, was born the continent of Fyrfell. Now this old man was standing before you, telling you that rising from the earth at your feet is a remnant of that arrow. You can’t decide whether to fall to your knees and weep, or attempt to slay him for blasphemy.
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“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Support your local Short Story Competition!
Last edited by Sparhawk; Jan 21st, 2013 at 04:07 PM. |
#2
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Chapter 1 It takes a while (almost thirty minutes of non-stop rambling actually), but you finally find out that the old man is, like you, a captive. His name is Jfyord the Magnificent, a wizard of some renown who had been captured ten years previously at his home in the southern desert. His captors had been Imperial Magisters, powerful wizards who had been sent by the Emperor himself to bring Jfyord back to this place where you now stand. The crystal, at that time, had been on the Empires top priority list, but they were having trouble deciphering its secrets. When he had first seen what they had found, and heard what they wanted to do with it, he had refused. In the end they had tortured him until he had finally broken and agreed to aid them. It turned out, however, that it wasn’t going to be that easy. The crystal was an enigma and it taunted Jfyord and the others at every turn. Nothing they did seemed to have an effect on it. Years passed with no progress and the Empire began to focus its attention upon other matters. The Imperial wizards became desperate and turned to the darkest of all schools of magic. Invoking the names of the Unspoken, they called upon the corrupted powers, sacrificing each other one by one in the hopes that the expenditure of their lives would have some effect on the crystal. It did not, and in the end all that was left was Jfyord. The Empire, unwilling to expend anymore resources on the project, abandoned it for the most part, allowing Jfyord to stay in the off chance that he made a breakthrough. And then, almost three years ago, that breakthrough had occurred. “It came in a dream.” He says, drawing you back to the present. “When I woke up, I knew exactly what I had to do.” Once more he places his hand on the crystal, bows his head and begins murmuring something that you cannot make out. In front of you the air begins to shimmer. A low hum fills the cavern and the air in front of you begins to be sucked inward upon itself, collecting in a black circle at the center point, which grows larger and larger as the air is fed into it. Behind that the crystal begins to glow a brilliant yellow. Tongues of vibrant, golden, light lap out from the crystal and embrace Jfyord until his body is totally enveloped in the radiance. The black hole in front of you continues to grow until it is roughly seven feet in diameter, reaching from the floor to just above your heads. At that point the crystal dims and the tentacles of light surrounding Jfyord retract back into the warm, blue, light that seems to be natural of its resting state. The hole remains. Jyford totters over to you, assuring you that he is quite alright, and offers you the opportunity to move around and view the Aperture, as he calls it. Paper thin, it appears black on both sides and has formed itself into a perfect circle. The blackness within seems smooth, except for at the very center where the inky shadows seem to have been pinched and twisted a half a turn counterclockwise. Jfyord explains that this is a doorway to other worlds beyond the one where you have, up until now, lived your lives. “This is what the crystal does.” He says. “It could never have been used as a weapon like the Empire wanted! It only has one function. It’s a travel device and it will take you all out of here.” He grins slyly and leans in close to you. “I’ve been telling the guards that I’m sacrificing the prisoners they bring down here, but I’m really helping them escape!” He chuckles and points to a table where all of your gear is piled up. “You kids ready to get out of here?”
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“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Support your local Short Story Competition!
Last edited by Sparhawk; Jan 21st, 2013 at 09:34 PM. |
#3
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Wherever you go, there you are. Last edited by Majestyk; Jan 21st, 2013 at 07:54 PM. |
#4
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"Since you have asked, then you shall be the keeper." He approaches Maxwell and extends out his right hand. In it's palm is a small shard of crystal, about three inches long, and perhaps a half an inch in diameter. It glows the same peaceful blue as the larger crystal from whence it came.
"This is the only way for you to return, should you desire. To return simply place this shard in a container of water and the aperture will appear." He turns away, but stops and peers back at you. "But be warned. The shard is fragile and only holds the power for three uses. You should be very sure that you are where you want to be after the use of the final charge."
__________________
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Support your local Short Story Competition!
Last edited by Sparhawk; Jan 21st, 2013 at 09:43 PM. |
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#6
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Jfyord smiles. "There is no price, my friend, although I would be lying to you if I told you that I did not benefit from this in some way." He sighs and leans against the alter. "For a long time after I was tortured I hated myself for breaking, for helping my enemies in their pursuit of domination. Even if the mission had been ultimately unattainable, I saw myself as a traitor and I loathed what I had become. Then this happened." He gestures towards the aperture. "This is my salvation, for through it I can free the lives of those who might have suffered because of my weakness. Freeing as many people as I can before the Empire finds out, is the only price that I require."
__________________
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Support your local Short Story Competition!
Last edited by Sparhawk; Jan 22nd, 2013 at 12:24 AM. |
#7
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Wherever you go, there you are. Last edited by Majestyk; Jan 22nd, 2013 at 01:32 AM. |
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"Well, the best way I know, to know that you are somewhere that you want to stay, is to like the place where you are." He shrugs. "All that I meant was, once you use that final charge, wherever you end up, is where you are going to stay. Unless you find an alternative form of transportation of course..." He pauses as you frame your next question.
"I have sent three hundred and fifteen people through the aperture. You all will be three hundred and twenty. I hope to liberate as many of the captives as I can before I die, or the Empire finds out." He peers at you from underneath a furrowed brow. "While I appreciate your kind words on my behalf, I have come to terms with the fact that this is where I will live out the remainder of my days, regardless of how my demise may come. I am too old for battle, but at least I can do this. It is my way of giving back to the rebellion and all of the people who have been slaughtered in an effort to buy us our freedom." When you query him in regards to the half-elf, he shakes his head. "I am sorry to say that I have not seen anyone who matches your description. My eyesight is all but gone these days. I see only with the aid of magic, and even with that I can only see colors and shapes. No real detail. You have my best wishes in your search, though." He looks around at the rest of you. "Anymore questions before you depart?"
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“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Support your local Short Story Competition!
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#9
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__________________
Currently Playing Orjan Erlandson. Currently writing, building and GMing for The Golandian Chronicle. |
#10
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Sparrow was sitting on the dirt ground with her back against the wall, her hand picking up a handful of dirt and letting it slide through her fingers till it was gone, doing it again and again as she sat there listening to everything around her. Listening to the guards conversations the most, to see when they would be moved, or what would possibly happen to them. The waiting around and not knowing wasn't doing well for her nerves. She wasn't much for conversation at the moment, being caged up was taking its toll on her, even though it had only been three days. She missed the warm sun, the animals in the jungles and forests she once lived in, the misty dew in the morning and the soft ground covered in leaves and grass. This barren wasteland around her did nothing for the imagination, but she had at least seen where they were for a moment. When they were captured her Falcon flew over a few times and counted the guards for her, told her where everything was and let her see through its eyes but to no avail. that night it came to her and vanished and she hadn't seen anything since. She heard the thumping footsteps of the guards above her as they walked across the wooden planks of the walkway above them. She shivered as a gust of cold wind found its way into the main yard and passed through her like a chilling creature trying to take her life from her.
Her Long Golden hair was braided and tied up, a few strands running down the sides of her face, and her bangs rather long, the usually covered her eyes. She looked up a she heard footsteps come closer to her then stop and she looked directly up at the inmate, her milky pale blue eyes peeking out from beneath her bangs and he quickly turned away changing his mind about whatever he was going to do. She may have been blind, but she could still take care of herself. she certainly proved that the first day the were here when one of them tried to cop a feel. Her mind was brought back from the memory as her stomach gave a voracious growl that made her body ache, even though she had just eaten. She gave a soft sigh and got up, making her way to her comrades, following the sound of their voices till she was nearby. Not getting a chance to say anything as they were gathered anyway and brought to the Torture House. or at least that's what she gathered from some of their whispers. When she is shoved she catches her footing and manages to stay upright, giving a soft inner growl at the guard. As they enter the building the wind and chill is no longer nipping so hungrily at her body and she feels a bit of relief for the first time in days. The warmth of the fire to her right crackles a song so inviting to her that she nearly walks towards it but is again shoved in the direction she needs to go. Hearing the footsteps change of the comrades in front of her she knows that they are stepping down. she gives a slight sigh of annoyance but steps down as well almost missing the step but catches herself once more. she touches the back of Maxwell to help lead her, and she was getting tired of being pushed into him. She feels the warmth of every torch as they pass by it, each one bringing a moment of basking warmth and bliss to her body before she reluctantly walks away from its warmth again, but she is now able to feel her fingers and toes for the first time in days. Once they are in the main cavern she lets go of Maxwell, and though she doesn't see the stone in the massive cavern, she does feel the presence of the old man. She gives a grunt as she is shoved once more. Another set of steps 'oh goodie' she thought for a moment till her feet touch flat ground again. Shoved again, this time she did not catch her footing and fell just like the others in front of the old wizard. She gave a huff as she just laid there on the ground on her back, fairly irritated at this point. Hearing the old wizard speak to the guards back and forth for a moment she at least sits up, listening for now. She heard the spit hit the ground near her, then the heavy footsteps as the rude guards left the room. as all went silent she picked herself up and made herself closer to the warmth of a brazier till she heard him speak again, not speaking to him, just listening. Her head lifted as he mentioned fur's arrow, but made no other movement As the portal opened she see it, but she certainly felt something there that was unnatural. Not knowing where he pointed for the gear she let everyone else go over there before going over as well and feeling for her things. Not caring at the moment, she simply stripped out of the rags she wore and put on her clothes, a tattoo of a bird on her shoulder and partway up her neck. She shivered as she stood there bare before getting all snuggled and warm in her clothes, now putting on her armor pieces. She picked up her quiver of arrows and draped it over her back, then slinging the bag over her shoulder. The last thing she picked up was a beautiful hand carved longbow. She pulled the large hood over her head, her now untied hair falling from beneath it. Sparrow gave a slight smirk from behind her hood towards Maxwell and Balbanes before walking up to them. Now that she had her gear and her beloved belongings she felt more herself. "Lets do this" she said simply, a smile still playing at her lips
__________________
"I Hope You Don't Screw Like You Type."
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#11
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As you gather your belongings and prepare to depart, Jfyord continues to speak, informing you on the details of the portal.
“The only problem with the aperture is that I cannot control from this end, where you end up on the other. Luckily it’s calibrated to detect your life signs and deposit you in a hospitable environment, but exactly where I don’t know. So far none of the people who have gone through have come back to tell me and Fyr isn’t talking. Unfortunately, at this point you really don’t have a choice. The guards will be back sooner or later and if they see that you’re still alive…well, it won’t be pretty for any of us. A few people have tried to escape back up through the murder house in the past, but they started posting guards topside once they caught that group.” He peers at you, his bushy eyebrows twitching. “I know it’s scary, but it’s the only option at this point.” You all gather around the portal, hearts beating fast, palms sweaty, and stare into the dark void before you. It seems to beckon to some primitive part of your brain, calling to you like the wolf in the wild. Chills run up and down your spine, but at the same time you feel more alive than you have perhaps your entire life. This is the cliffs edge and with your enemies closing in you have no choice but to take that leap of faith and pray for the best. It is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. “Good luck, my friends.” Jfyord says. “May Fyr be with you.” At first contact with the aperture your skin begins to tingle. A coldness seeps into your body, chilling you to the bone and somewhere in the back of your mind a voice screams that you have made a mistake. Before you can react, however, an unseen force grabs you at the center of your chest and pulls you forward with such force that you feel your feet leave the ground. Furthermore you have the distinct feeling of being ripped apart and scattered across an incredible distance. The sensation is not painful, but the entire experience is extremely disorienting. Just as you open your mouth to scream, you feel solid ground under your feet again. Opening your eyes, which you had not realized were closed, you see that you are standing in a grassy field that stretches for miles in all directions. Rolling hills break the monotony here and there, but for the most part, the only feature recognizable for a good five miles is the tall, hip deep grass. In the distance are a series of towering mountain peaks that seems to dictate the boundaries of the valley were you are now standing. Many of them are tall enough to be snowcapped and as you turn in a slow circle to view your surroundings, you see that you are, in essence, fenced in by the roughly, circular mountain range. Directly behind you is the portal, but as you watch it begins to shrink in size until with a loud “pop”, it totally disappears and leaves you alone and isolated on this totally new world. A cold wind is blowing off of the distant peaks and the grass around you sighs in the current like a lover reveling in a long awaited kiss. It is not cold, however, or at least not as cold as you were used to in the prison camp. In fact it feels downright balmy and if you have on an excess amount of clothing, you feel a strong desire to remove most of it. The suns are also high in the sky…yes, suns! There are three, one that looks much like the one that Agrathall orbits, fiery and yellow. The other two are smaller and slightly bluish in tint. They seem to be orbiting the primary yellow one, but it is hard to tell for sure. When you step through the portal you are facing what you would guess to be close to due north. Of course this assumption is based on the orientation of the yellow sun, which is the technique you would have used on Agrathall. Here, however, you can only guess. To the south is the only sign of civilization that you can see from this vantage point, a slender pillar of smoke rising up from the grass about a half a mile distant. Nothing stirs except for the grass and no noises reach your ears. To all outward appearances, you are totally alone, but where there is smoke, there is fire. And where there is fire, there could be humanity. You feel very small and far away from where you came from, but you also realize that the next choice you make could be the difference between death and survival.
__________________
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Support your local Short Story Competition!
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#12
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__________________
Currently Playing Orjan Erlandson. Currently writing, building and GMing for The Golandian Chronicle. |
#13
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*thud* is the sound Maxwell's unconscious body made, as he fell to the ground.
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#14
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Eljin did a double take as he heard his companions body hit the ground soundly.
He took a moment to look about the area, making sure there was no pressing concern or danger, finding none he checked double checked and redoubled his checking of his gear. Finding everything's whereabouts to his liking, or at least satisfaction he walked over to Maxwell's fallen form. "Ok, I'll carry him. Would you lot think to live in the mountains as hermits or trek to yon city to see what we find there?" Eljin kneels down and hefts Maxwells form over his shoulder, judging from the apparent ease, the Elf is beastly strong. Last edited by Sparhawk; Jan 27th, 2013 at 02:43 AM. |
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Sparrow pulled the collar of her shirt a little, exposing her bird tattoo. It seemed to shimmer for a moment before coming to life. The small bird formed into a falcon, the large bird now flying around their heads. It gave a loud screech, its voice echoing throughout the cavern. Now, in a way, she could see the Giant crystal in the middle of the room, where everybody was, and where the dark portal was. She turned to The old man as he spoke again, listening for what he had to say "i'm not scared" she said softly, a small smile coming to her lips as she lifter her arm a little, the falcon screeching once more before flying down and landing on her arm weightlessly, its talons digging into the leather of her thick bracer. She pet him gent;y on the head "come Rorek, a new adventure awaits us" she said sweetly before turning to her companions to see if they were ready. The falcon nuzzled her cheek, letting her know he was ready. Once she noticed they all had their things and were headed toward the portal, she went ahead and stepped through after Balbanes.
She let in a ragged breath as her skin tingled from the portal, the coldness seeping into her and chilling her to the bone. As she feels her chest grabbed and pulled forward, Rorek lets out a screech but no sound came. She felt her feet leave the ground and wrapped her arms gently around the falcon, holding him close as she was pulled forward. She felt as though she was being ripped apart, though it wasn't painful, it was very disorienting. As she was about to cry out it all stopped and she felt her feet touch solid ground once more. Her heart raced, her breathing rapid as she stood there for a moment. She stepped forward as she calmed down, Rorek taking flight from her arm and soaring high above. He let out a screech from high above as he circled her and the companions who had passed through. She felt a small breeze, the scent of grass and smoke in the air. she reached out and kneeled a little to feel the tall grass all around her before standing once more and turned toward where the wind was blowing the smoke from. Hearing the thud of a companion hit the ground and the loud pop as the portal vanished she no longer felt its odd aura anymore. The falcon made a few different sounds as it spoke to Sparrow, telling her what was in the surrounding area. She took a deep breath. Where the chill of the camp had left her frozen, the sun above filled her with warmth, though at the moment she didn't realize there were three suns. She gasped softly and turned to Balbanes as he mentioned there being three suns. "wait... three?" she asked, her face looking up and feeling the warmth touch her face, looking slightly astonished. She turned now as Eljin spoke "well, i don't know about you guys, but i'm terribly hungry" she said with a small whine as he stomach growled hungrily "and we should see what kind of word we've stumbled upon" she paused a moment then giggled at what she said, finding it funny because she couldn't see.
__________________
"I Hope You Don't Screw Like You Type."
Last edited by GoddessGamer; Jan 28th, 2013 at 11:27 PM. |
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