Quest Screamed Secrets

On the 20th of Winter, something escaped...

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An undead citadel created before the cataclysm, Sahova is devoted to all kinds of magical research. The living may visit the island, if they are willing to obey its rules. [Lore]

Screamed Secrets

Postby Keene Ward on December 8th, 2014, 12:56 am

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Their path was illuminated by a trail of fire that ran along side them, partially illuminating both ahead and behind them. The caves themselves were dark, the obsidian running through the tunnels like a glass made of shadows that both reflected and absorbed the light. Keene stumbled on behind Atziri, the slant of the path they followed reminiscent of the daily trips he had made down the mountain's upper regions, though the ground within the crawling system of tunnels was much more solid. Still, he stumbled at times, tripping over rocks and catching himself on the tunnel walls. There were portals passed where the light revealed turns and splits, but Atziri did not give them a second glance as they hurried onwards. Eventually, the slope flattened out, leaving an even plane for the two figures to accelerate without fear of losing control. Keene, unprepared for the gloved hand to wrap itself around his wrist as Atziri's gait began to elongate, breaking out into a face paced job. He let out a small squeak, but quickly diverted all air flow into keeping his lungs from falling out of his body as he was dragged behind her.

Her strength was astonishing, though Keene had expected no less from his fiery master. His stumbling increased exponentially, but each time he felt his balance shift, Atziri corrected it with a shake of his arm or pressing back against his weight. It was, by far, the most uncomfortable interaction he had had with his master, but Keene's mind was primarily focused upon breathing in enough air to keep him from suffocating as they ran through the caverns. The urgency was apparent, but it wasn't five chimes in before Keene's legs felt numb as they crunched against the rocky ground. It was all he could do to keep his legs moving without tumbling to the ground. He knew that if his balance was lost, Atziri would have most likely just continued to drag him onwards. She had the strength for it. Her grip about his wrist was that of iron, not uncomfortable in terms of tightness, but he could feel the warmth of her fingers as they pressed into the skin of his wrist. The combination of his antipathy towards physical contact and fear of becoming a human sled, Keene was able to stay on his feet, just barely.

By the time Atziri released his wrist, Keene's side had a splitting ache, he was covered in sweat, and the air whooshed in and out of his lungs as if he had just been in the process of drowning - complete with coughing and spluttering. When he finally felt stable enough to look at more than just the ground in front of him, he saw Atziri place her hands on the ceiling above the chalked marked "x". The tunnels, as he now noticed as he leaned up against the now more substantially curved walls, had slimmed, losing both width and height. As the exit was revealed thanks to his masters efforts, there came a howling rush of noise that flooded into the caverns. Too winded to give the advent of cacophony anything more than a widening of the eyes, Keene pushed himself back onto his feet. His breathing, though still ragged in comparison to the easy rise and fall of Atziri's chest, had slowed enough that he didn't feel as though he were dying. His legs shook a little with the added weight of his body, but for the most part he was alright for the time being. He moved over to stand next to Atziri, wondering if they were supposed to climb out using each other as supports when he felt a cool grip around his torso as his feet lifted up off the ground. He turned a quick glance of alarm at Atziri, but he was only giving a knowing smile.

Setting down on the ground above, Keene felt the chill abate as Atziri joined him. They were in the courtyard, and it was awash with activity. Spirits darted all over, some wailing, others chasing. The atmosphere of chaos was palpable. Trying his best to stand straight and alert, Keene lets his eyes flick over the gathered faces, the mists had abated to a mild fog about the feet allowing him a relatively clear line of sight. There were a group of foreigners, quite certainly Pulsars, who stood gathered together. They were armed and seemed quite capable, alert in the obvious presence of danger. Their eyes were that of hardened veterans, people who understood what to do when an alarm was raised regardless of the situation. There was Mistress Wanda, as well, hunched near the middle of courtyard, looking at nothing in particular as the spirits' activity began to die down. He assumed she had something to do with it.

Two more joined the gathering, first a man, then a wolf. The man rushed into the courtyard hurridly, his state of undress either a confident statement of fashion or a clear result of the sudden nature of the emergency. The wolf that followed behind came to rest at his side, glowing with uncertainty at the situation. He spent little time examining the duo as the sound of flapping wings drew his attention to the skies. Above, there descended the figure of a bird with the face of human. Gusts of wind were cast downwards by the beat of wings, swirling the hem of Keene's tunic and forcing his arm to move to deflect of the debris kicked up by the breezes. From the creature's claws descended two figures, a lithe, pretty young woman and the initiate he had met earlier: Derain. They pair hit the ground with different levels graces, but both rose to stand off to the side of Keene and Atziri. He wondered if the woman beside Derain was the "lovely Lorelei" he had spoken of. Signs pointed to yes.

The bird creature fell out of the sky behind them, her body twisting with a smooth elegance as she hit the ground with a gentle arc of motion, standing straight as her clay like manipulation of her body finalized into that of a woman's. She strode with an easy strength across the Courtyard towards Mistress Wanda, her authority unspoken and obeyed. Keene glanced at the others who had gathered, gaging their reactions. Lorelei and Derain both seemed attentive and alert, though there was a easily recognized deference in both of them as they kept their gazes focused on the authoritative morpher. The others seemed to be a bit more confused about the situation, though it appeared no one made a move to explicitly interrupt her. As to woman, Wayza, as Mistress Wanda had referred to her, stated the need for more information, there more figures appeared from within the shadows of the vestibule. A gazelle nimbly crossed over the courtyard's length, stopping to rest between Keene and the initiates from the Bloodhills. Keene gave the animal a curt nod; Kinapak had arrived. The hound dog that lumbered in after him was most certainly Darin, the other prairie's initiate. Keene supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that so many capable people be gathered at the advent of such an emergency, though as Wayza had already stated, the actual state of the emergency was a bit vague. Behind the two finally hurried in a blond haired man. He seemed a bit out of place among the collection gathered in his fashionable, sleek clothing. Keene wondered if he had been out working on experiments and had returned to see what was going on. He supposed, had he been in the same situation, he would have done much the same.

As Keene prepared himself to follow what orders might come next from either Wayza or Atziri, the doors to the Gug Andjak were opened to reveal the slow amble of a dazed looking man in grey slide out from between them. Keene's attention flicked back towards Wayza who had stopped in the middle of her speech, the new arrival seemingly higher up that she. As Keene turned his head to reevaluate the distant looking figure, there emerged one of the most "dead" looking nuits Keene had seen since his arrival on the island. Despite the decay, he strode with purpose that far outrivaled that of Wayza's. There was an aura of confidence about him that clearly denoted him as someone of major importance, if not the most important. Keene straightened his back some, feeling as though maintaining his admittedly weary visage would win him no favors with the newly arrived nuit. Kinapak shifted next to him, his hooves making small clicks against the stone, signaling that even the narcissistic initiate felt uncomfortable in the presence of the nuit as he positioned himself next to Wayza, gazing down at those collected in the courtyard.

He spoke of "wailers" and of Farke, the assumed name of the nuit who had wandered into the crowd with an appraising eye. Keene heard Lorelei reiterate the foreign word, and from the sound of the tones of both nuit and initiate, Keene figured the "wailers" were a bit worse than a Gibbat dog infestation. As Farke passed him, Keene met his gaze with his own curious grey to the nuit's darer irises. He continued on, finding little interest in the Pulser. The authoritative nuit had begun to speak once more, ignoring the shuffle of his subordinate in favor of explaining the situation at hand. He spoke with a matter-of-fact tone that was anything but rousing. While Keene was confident he would be perform as optimally as possible, he wasn't fond of the idea of another soul occupying his body should he fail. It was, however, good incentive to stay alive.

Farke finally seemed to have collected what it was he'd meant to find, and began to speak, explaining the groups and detailing the respective objectives of each. As he continued, naming specifically those in each party, Keene felt a strange pressure on his shoulder, simliar to that of the ghostly grip that had lifted him from the caverns, but lacking all sensation beyond the gentle pressure that pushed him across the courtyard to stand beside the armored Redwolf and the man with the trident. Keene gave the two of them a respectful nod of his head as he took his position next to them, their similarity in height creating a small, human sized wall. He watched the other move into their own groups, some seeming to be pushed in much the same way he had. Keene glanced at Farke to determine if any sort of magic was being used, but he still ambled with his limp, loose armed gait as he had before.

As the rings were passed out, Keene extended his hand outwards towards the head councilor, receiving the ring at the peculiar tidbit of information with a questioning tilt of his head before bowing his head in understanding and respect. As the nuit returned to stand beside Wayza, Keene slipped the ring over the middle finger of his left hand, peering down at the intricate design with a curiosity beyond the engraving. He found it odd that any one bearing a Wizard's ring would simply "leave it behind". He glanced up as Farke explained the use of the rings, and Keene felt his hand grow a bit heavier as the weight of their importance sank in. He let the hand fall to his side as he turned to introduce himself to the others in his group. Before any of them could speak to one another, Atziri approached, stating she had to return but offering a last bit of advice before she did.

First, to the woman Redwulf who was clearly in the leadership position the original three she had stood with, he extended a hand. Then to the scruffy man with the trident, Keene spoke with a calm, easy tone, his breathing having finally come under his control. "I am Keene Ward, may this arrangement prove beneficial." His cool, grey stare meeting the eyes of both with interest.
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Screamed Secrets

Postby Fallon on December 8th, 2014, 1:37 pm

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It was perhaps a good thing that the other Scars members had followed her, though in another this little band was perhaps now destined to face something truly frightening. The light flared in the sky, the streaks of red leaving that gripping sense of dread whilst the ghosts were slowly pulled back and away. The wave of dead was slowed to a trickle, and it was by each passing tick, the eyes skimming to and fro as she focused. She simply went to that of watching, eyes flickering across the faces - be they dead or otherwise - and keeping them stored within her mind. Instil familiarity, an understanding and a plan of action.

Enemy. Attack. Danger. There was a flicker to Wayza, a flickering of remembrance to the letter and the names upon it. A councillor, Fallon quickly concluded. She did not speak up, and let her gaze travel once more. Wanda was another feature, though what magic she was doing to control the ghosts she had no clue. And whilst all around her the others came, did the slow inklings of a plan begin to grow. The councillors begun to come together, the various wardens readying themselves for whatever was to come. War, was the first thing that sprung in her mind - but what would come to such an island for that? No, it had to be smaller - she reasoned as she listened.

Fallon raised only an eyebrow to Farke in return, that flicker of curiosity upon her face wondering on what exactly he was thinking, before it fell down to neutrality once more - information was being spilled out, and the knowledge of conscription came to her ears. The leader of the Scars gave a sigh, and looked to the other members, "Guess we have heads to hit now," her eyes then looked over to the nuit, growing sharp and calculating. Releasing a hum of thought she spoke then, "Don't know what a Wailer is though. Makes me think of long mournful noises though..."

With a tap of her armour straps once more she gave them a test, looking over and down to the nuit for an answer. None would come, least that was what she believed, but it was worth looking for something to assist where possible. A respectful nod as she was addressed by title, though it did strike a chord of amusement in her. She had her answers, or some of them and it was into the underbelly of the citadel that she would descend. When the astral hand gave a stroke upon her shoulder however, instead of the stiffening flinch there was the gentle shooing with her fingers. She knew the sensation of projection, she was no fool in that regard - though this sensation indeed worked to make her skin writhe. A low chuckling seemed to escape her throat before she calmed and looked for some humour within the situation, "Mistress, what a title. I hope you two heard that. I am Mistress now." She gave to look at their expressions, attempting to read what was there - even she could feel the faint pang of annoyance to being separated, "We have our orders, and as guests we should do best to respect our hosts wishes. Noven, keep a level head and don't do anything too reckless. Rather fond of keeping you alive. Palaren," Fallon paused, frowned, and then nodded, "Hope you don't fear the dark, nor will mind me clinging to you if things get... tight."

What she would have paid to switch places and be somewhere much more open. Closed in locations, tunnels and narrowed spaces were her weakness - and it was image that was conjured up to the word caverns. Inhaling deeply, Fallon proceeded to focus herself, calm the nerves and fires that would otherwise blind logic and reasoning. And all the while she kept listening, slowly pulling her thoughts together.

Remember the white X. Ring for entry. Special? Magical? Aelobius, he is another of the council, no? Then where was he at this present time? The tingling of suspicion rested upon her, and quickly fell away. Focus on the task at hand, pick holes at the Sahovans later - common sense won in the end. There was a flinch down to the extended hand, the offering to bridge that caught her by surprise and snatched her from her thoughts. For a moment there was hesitation, thinking of Sunberth and its traditions in the shaking of hands before she raised up her own hand, gauntlets in place. There was the smallest squeeze, the green-blue orbs mirroring the grey with interest, before they pulled away. The rough voice, the persona of Bitzer was put forward, "Bitzer Redwulf, and this is my associate, Palaren Marshal. Though, sometimes we call him Uncle," Lips pulled back, a slither of white teeth flashing before she withdrew and rested it once more upon the hilt of her tulwar, "Agreed. Do we have a plan of action for the caverns yet? Or know how to even get in there? Your... boss seems to imply there is multiple exits."
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Screamed Secrets

Postby Pulren Marsh on December 10th, 2014, 4:35 am

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Oh yeah. Almost forgot. The adventures to crown all adventures was going to occur on Dead Island. The place hadn't become any more cuddly for the Zeltivan since his arrival and now, with all of the alarms and the Undead Elite popping up all over, it made things go from bad to nightmare. All the man could do to keep it together was keep feeling the cool metal of the trident's shaft, reminding him of the fact that he was in no dream and everything around him was aware and very real.

He found it interesting that he was for the most part, overlooked. It certainly didn't hurt his feelings as he wasn't sure that he wanted to be a fresh memory of the Nuit. It also made him grin since most of his rivals or past enemies had all underestimated him and that had been their undoing. While he knew that he had magic on his side, it still remained unrefined and secretive. There would be plenty of Wizards afoot to handle such things. His role, as he had chosen it, was to guard Bitzer and any others who were assigned. Bitzer, then Noven, then any sworn defended.

His eyes blinked and he rubbed them when the great flying creature landed, shifting into a humanoid creature, a naked woman, most likely Nuit. What was this shifting magic? Nothing Pulren had ever heard of. Nothing should surprise him here, he kept thinking to himself. He watched with a sublime curiosity as one of the people in the claws of the creature approached the group. The dead started speaking. Listening, his arms and armor at his side, he was not surprised that they were being conscripted to defend the island. he was more surprised that he was actually informed by the unliving. Cordial of them.

Unsettling enough were the invisible hands he felt on his shoulders, gently pushing him into a group with Bitzer and another while his new friend Noven was being sorted to another group. His mind mulled over the details given. They were to enter caverns and seek out the lowest labs with the greatest security risk. This brought a grin to Uncle's mug. He watched the ring be deposited into the hand of the young Wizard that was grouped with them. the words given made Pulren think that perhaps the ring might be a kind of beacon to find Aelobius, but it would all be known in time. He looked to his boss and then to the man now known as Keene, a mock salute given when introduced as Uncle Palaren.

The mission was set, the squad assembled. Time for action. "Ready to move out, Keene. Lead the way." It would be himself bringing the rear up so that the shield and range could keep anything from behind at bay. If it came from the front, he would try to position himself so that his shield was at hip level and the trident could fit forward as needed. Pulren was born to guard and here were his charges.
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Screamed Secrets

Postby Noven on December 11th, 2014, 8:42 am

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If Nov thought the red flares were alarming, he had another thing coming. Because the man near pissed himself when the morpher appeared.

The only reason he didn't immediately try to fight it or run for cover--two instincs embedded deep within any child of the Berth--was because no one else appeared half as startled at the sight of a partially bald and defeathered bird creature drop two humans out of its talons ten feet from the ground before shifting mid-landing into a naked woman. A dead, naked woman.

Empty night, Nov didn't think he was ever going to get used to these walking corpses.

But he appeared alone in his reaction. Everyone seemed perfectly at ease. Chiefly Wolf Girl, who showed maybe a flicker of concern before deeming the now land-borne trio a non threat.

Noven managed to keep his body still, but his gaze darted back and forth between all of the newcomers with palpable unease. There was another pair who had joined unexpectedly. A blonde man and red haired woman, neither of whom he'd never seen before. There was also Mistress Wanda, as the morpher apparently named Wayza had greeted, and another Nuit named Farke, who had been peering at each of the individually in unnerving silence.

Unable to stop himself, the merc found his eyes returning to the morpher as another Nuit explained their current situation. All of the living corpses were eerie, if not outright nightmarish to look upon, but Mistress Wayza had drawn his reluctant curiosity the most. Nov couldn't help but wonder...would, or could even, Arlana ever reach such a level of morphing? And what would happen if she did? The very thought made him shudder. Not to mention thinking of a fellow orphan, inevitably, also made him think of home, which did no favors for his already darkening, petched up mood.

Of course, this night could only get better. Because now their small but tightly bound group of Scars was to be separated. Noven scowled as the Nuit named Farke announced their plans, the expression deepening as he was addressed as 'Swordsman' and a hand from seemingly nowhere steered him by the shoulder. Had he not been in the company of this particular crowd, the cook might've snarled and tried to fight whatever it was that guided him toward his new groupmates. Alas, there was the reputation of the Scars to consider. And that of his own as well. He knew better than most what it meant to present oneself as prey inside a circle of predators, and the last thing Nov wanted was to single himself out as the weakest link.

That, and he really, really didn't like the idea of being anyone's vessel, quality be damned.

At least Bitzer's confident words provided some measure of assurance. It seemed she had not seen their split coming either and was no less annoyed, but she was right. They had their orders. Though it still grated on Noven's pride somewhat that it would not be him who would get to remain by their leader's side.

"Trying counts, right?" he half-joked in response, aiming for a last-ditch attempt at levity. Though, Wolf Girl knew as well as he did that trying was probably the closest thing to hitting the mark for the likes of him.

Still, Bitzer had said she was fond of keeping him alive. Maybe he should try just a wee bit harder this time.

When all of their groups had been properly re-organized, the merc glanced over at the other Scars to see who had taken his place. It was a young, quiet looking fellow with brown hair and a calm expression. He was pale and lithe and seemed completely in control of his emotions. Which meant this Keene Ward and Noven himself couldn't be more different if they tried.

Welp, no point in dwelling. There was a job to be done and things to presumably be smashed. That was what Nov was here for, and it was the one thing he actually understood on this gods forsaken island of the living dead.

His new partners on the job were quick to introduce themselves. Or at least the woman, Lorelei, was. Her associate--Derain, Nov believed Lorelei had mentioned--stayed quiet as he received some mysterious ring from one of the Nuit leaders. The merc couldn't decide who to be warier of...the hot blonde with a face full of innocence and charm, or the guy with the suspicious, magicky ring. Sighing, he scratched as the edge of his jaw and decided to hold off on the paranoia for just a little while. Both possessed dubious enough qualities in his book, but now was neither the time nor place for sowing mistrust. Nov needed to rely on these folk if he wanted to live through the night.

"I'm Noven," he answered with only a hint of reluctance. "or just Nov, for short. And I'm no swordsman. Don't know where they got that notion in their heads, but I'm good with my fists and not much else."

So there it was. Him, teaming up with a couple of Bloodhill initiates, which sounded foreboding enough in name alone, while the rest of the Scars were split up to be sent elsewhere. Could be worse, Noven reasoned. His allies could be completely useless or secretly pitted against him. Fortunately, neither appeared the least bit true. Lorelei, though she reminded him of flowers and other delicate, easily murderable things, had a certain sharpness to her that belied her soft looks. And Derain, though young, had to have balls of iron to be carried about in the talons of an undead, beak faced morpher.

Said morpher could have also not been a morpher, but a real, man-eating carnivore instead and torn Nov apart piece by piece as soon as it landed. And then eaten him. Or, the Nuits could have decided to collect all these 'fine vessels' right then and there, no failing to cleanse the citadel required.

Yep, could be worse, the merc reminded himself one more time as they readied themselves to leave. Definitely could be worse.


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Screamed Secrets

Postby Verin Rush on December 12th, 2014, 9:58 pm

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As he was running along the corridors, Verin could hear the click of claws against the hard ground of the corridors. Circumstance allowed him to draw a conclusion quickly – his slave was deliberately disobeying his direct command. He didn’t slow his pace, though, and Redd was careful to remain behind him as they raced towards the noise. Initially, Verin slowed so that he was behind the three armed individuals, but less than a chime passed before he sidestepped over so that he was standing next to the furthest to the right. He stretched his hand so that the red wolf would be aware of his invitation for her to wait next to him.

When the sound of screeching from the ghosts disappeared, Verin didn’t have the chance to breathe out in relief, for a second sound followed closely behind, causing Verin, and others from the growing crowd, to stare beyond their lines of sight. Soon, a large winged beast appeared, partially hidden by the darkness of the horizon. What little light there was illuminated its movements. As the creature approached, Verin’s eyes grew wide in amazement; two humans were held in the gargantuan claws of the winged raptor, and Verin couldn’t help but rock back on his heels as the creature landed.

Revulsion flew across the Black Sun initiate’s face as he watched the raptor morph forms, as if she was dislocating all of her bones, contorting her very flesh and muscle. The anamorphosis had Verin forgetting entirely about the screams that had woken him up, as he watched the transformation end, leaving behind a woman, a Nuit of some form, possibly. He wondered how the woman had achieved such a form, if, indeed, the raptor was an artificial form. The blond knew of no arcane skills that could manifest in such a manner.

As the woman, called Wayza, apparently, asked questions of others as more joined the growing audience, a second canine flanked Verin’s other side, and the blond disdainfully wondered what God deigned to reward him with the company of a second mutt on this unusual morning. He glanced away from the brown hound as the doors were swept open and an evidently senior member of the citadel joined the group. He spoke to all, and made an attempt to inform them of the situation, though Verin was one of the few who was not enlightened by what was said; he could guess at what wailers meant, but could not yet be sure.

The man approached those present, and took the time to get a measure of those who had all just bee volunteered to assist the citadel in this crisis. Once again, the was pleased to have the experience of working in the Malt House as a bartender, where he had learnt to school his expression into one of impassiveness, as the man stared him down, though he could not resist the surprise that flashed across his face when the Nuit removed a ring from his finger and offer it.

There was a pause before Verin took the ring; a healthy amount of reluctance as he came to understand the value and significance of what he was being given by this Nuit. But he remembered the contents of the letter that he had received in the Temple of the Black Sun, and he understood that the Defiler was offering him his first opportunity to integrate with the island’s inhabitants. He accepted the ring with an incline of his head and clutched it tightly in his fist, not putting it on.

As some left the Courtyard, and others began to disperse into their allocated groups, Verin breathed out a deep breath, as if he had been holding it since the shape-shifter had appeared from beyond the horizon. Turning, his piercing gaze drifted down to the slave and he said nothing, but he was confident that his gaze had effectively conveyed his displeasure at her disobedience, as well as the promise of punishment later. Then, he turned to greet the Nuit he had been grouped with, a Nal’reim. Despite his aversion towards those who were not human, he extended a hand in greeting, as they had little choice but to cooperate, "
Verin Rush," he didn’t bother to introduce the slave, "New arrival to the island; I have yet to discover the way to the Prairie…" His statement would likely be the first of many admissions that his knowledge was severely lacking.

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Screamed Secrets

Postby Redd on December 13th, 2014, 11:56 am

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Redd watched as the flickering ghosts that appeared to be the source of the screaming, slowly subsided in their attack and her single eyed gaze moved to view the one that stood in the middle of the courtyard. It stills looks more like a graveyard, came the unbidden thought as she watched three more beings enter into the courtyard. She followed the movements of the hound, curious as she lifted her nose to scent the air, recognizing the scent around the hound as Darin. The young wolf angled her head slightly to the right, indicating slight interest and recognition before she turned her attention away from him. She observed then, as two more entered the courtyard and slowly, she moved to sit back, drawing in a slow breath. Redd figured that whatever it the danger was, wasn’t in this area for the moment, otherwise everyone would be fighting and not grouping. Her tongue darted out to slide along her maw, her gaze being drawn past the figures to simply focus upon a tombstone. An ear was pushed towards the speaker, listening intently, but for the most part, she knew that she would be ignored, as was the daily ritual. Nothing ever changed.

The young wolf had to avoid growling as the decaying man passed by Verin, the scent reminding her all too well of what she had to do to survive when she had been alone. He is a dead man walking, she thought to herself. Although, the question remained, how was he still walking when he carried the scent of a dead man? Her gaze simply remained focus upon a tombstone as she attempted to pretend that she wasn’t even there, much like how everyone else pretended that she wasn’t there. Just remember, one day I will have my revenge, she reminded herself. After all, she had only accepted her collar, for she was aware that Verin was Venser’s brother and she hoped that Verin would one day lead her to Venser. Redd just had to make sure that Verin survived long enough to lead her to him. In the mean-time, the young wolf just had to play along, play this slave position. Afterwards, after she had had her revenge… She didn’t know what she would do exactly. She was both human and wolf, accepted in neither wolf pack nor the human world. Perhaps that would be the cue to just simply lay down and sleep a long dream, came the thought as more words were spoken by those that occupied the courtyard.

An ear twitched as she was mentioned, the only indication that let the surrounding people know that the present wolf had been listening. She was always listening, listening to the area that surrounded her, for she had been forced to, seeing as she had lost an eye. The eye socket had by now, sunken in so then the top and bottom of the eye socket had met and occasionally blood would leak from the slit where an eye used to be. The healing hand had told her that the eye would never fully heal, not without magical help and even then it was expensive. The healing hand hadn’t even touched the topic of Redd ever getting one hundred percent eye sight back and the young wolf didn’t even believe that she would get it back. It would take a miracle, something that just didn’t happen to the wolf. Misery followed in both her waking and dreaming states. Everyone seemed to be able to maintain a level of freedom and happiness, while she the opposite, weighed down with collars and pain. A thought then occurred to her as Verin once again didn’t bother to introduce her, she wasn’t important to them. What if, she became something that they feared?
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Screamed Secrets

Postby Nal'reim Qyan on December 20th, 2014, 12:30 am

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As the wardens sped up the path heading towards the courtyard. The nuit moved as fast as his slowly decaying body would allow him. As the summoner walked his researcher’s mind worked with what knowledge he knew to better determine what was actually going on. ‘The flare ment something, that was for sure. In his five hundred or so years the nuit has never seen a warden let alone two wardens leave their domain in such a fashion. Then what was that slight screaming that could be heard from the testing ground?' These were questions and thoughts that Nal’reim wanted answers too. Even though he was a lower ranked wizard within the hierarchy, he was a researcher, a learner, and someone who just could not leave questions unanswered.

Entering the courtyard just a minute or so after the wardens had arrived. The first thing the mage noticed was the assembled group. A group comprised of not only fellow nuits such as the Mistress Wanda and Wayza, the wardens that had passed him along with some other from other areas of the island, and what amazed him the most a group of pulsers who were not among the wardens of the island, therefore he had no idea why they were here. Moving into outer ring of the crowd, the silver headed nuit stood and listened, waiting to hear what was going on.

Just as Nal’reim thought he was going to get some answers to his questions from Wayza as she begun to speak to Wanda, the front doors to the Gug Andjak opened and out walked Masters Farke and Qiao. As the leecher moved to stand next to Wayza, Farke moved throughout the crowd, doing what, Nal did not know. The one nuit Nal did tend to avoid was Master Farke. Too much was unknown about the master wizard for Nal’reim to be comfortable around him. As he moved throughout the crowd, Master Qiao spoke “The Citadel has come under attack. Farke informs me it was a litter of wailers.” As Lector continued speak, the Flux master continue circling the gathered crowd, passing Nal’reim and continuing onward in his circle. Qiao spoke of the threat and how the citadel defend itself by closing areas off to help protect the nuits and other wizards inside as well as helping keep the wailers from getting too far.

As the leader of the council concluded his briefing, Farke began to speak and advised the group that it would be split off in smaller groups for a total of three smaller groups. As an astral force began to push those in attendance into the required smaller groups, Farke continued to speak. The first group was some pulser named ‘Redwulf’, a warden initiate, and another pulser who would go into the caverns searching for the wailer there. The second group was comprised of the ‘swordsman’ and two more warden initiates to search in the upper floors of the laboratories. The last group Farke named off consisted of himself, a male pulser by the name of ‘Verin Rush’, and what appeared to be a kelvic or a morpher, one of the two, by the name of ‘Redd’ and the two prairie wardens. Our job would be to start on the ground floor and work upwards. As Farke began to move off, he stopped before the male pulser of his group and took off his ring. This ring, as Nal’reim had learned many years ago was extremely powerful for only the council members had them. Why it was given to the pulser and not himself, a fellow nuit and sahovan, he would most likely never know. But the mage was not about to question Farke choice. After the fluxer gave up his ring to one group, Qiao gave out his own ring and Master Aelobius’s ring out to the other group. As his gave each one out he spoke of the power the possessed and the dangers they could open if we misused them.

After the rings were given, individuals began to move off. To his left the male pulser, this Verin, moved before him. Extending his hand, he introduced himself “Verin Rush. New arrival to the island; I have yet to discover the way to the Prairie.” Nal extended his hand and grasped the humans in a soft but firm grip and shook it. “I am Nal’reim Qyan. It is lucky for you that your lack of knowledge of the island's layout will not come to test today. Our goal lies within the citadel.” The nuit spoke in his soft voice as he released the pulser hand and gestured toward the castle before them. “The wardens of the prairie, just happen to be our escorts.” he advised as he gestured to the wardens who would be escorting them. “Now that I know you” he spoke to the blonde. “Who is your friend?” he asked nodding toward the red wolf beside him. “It is best everyone is at least introduced. Since mostly likely not all of us will return from this task we have been given by the council.” Within his mind he had a thought, the nuit would rather work with just the wardens, not wanting to put his life in the hands of a pulser or two.

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Last edited by Nal'reim Qyan on January 14th, 2015, 10:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Screamed Secrets

Postby Ink on December 20th, 2014, 9:11 pm

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The three Nuits spoke in hushed terms as the Pulsers and Nal’riem greeted one another. IT was several chimes before one looked over, it was Farke. “Ah, they don’t know what waielrs are.” He said to his colleagues.

Wayza stifled a laugh, which meant it was entirely unaccidental and QIao simply looked annoyed. The Morpher spoke up, “Wailers are highly intelligent shapeshifters that kill with their voice. They take over the lives of their victims after they eat them, very difficult to find.” She seemed amused but her voice said annoyed, resulting in condescension. After that the three council members left disappearing into the archway that lead the Hydrasa Palsa.

The groups, as Farke had split them up, were truly on their own now. Even Wanda began to hobble back into her sanctum, now that the threat had been identified, she seemed wholly less concerned with it. For what purchase would shapeshifters find in the courtyard full of ghosts?


The doors of the Gug Andjak remained split open and the graveyard stone unreplaced from its disturbed rest.

Manipulating Multitudes (Verin, Redd, Nal'riem)
An Execirse in Civility (Derain, Noven)
Into the Deep (Keene, Pulren, Fallon)
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The Rules remain the same, no round may exceed two weeks time, you will all get a reply from me in each round unless instructed otherwise. This should speed up the quest though and when everyone achieves their goal we can come back together for one giant finale


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