Found Among the Driftwood (Open)

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

Home of the Konti people, this ivory city is built of native konti stone half in and half out of the sea. Its borders touch the Silverwood, and stretch upwards towards Silver Lake, home of the infamous konti vision water. [Lore]

Postby Aon on October 22nd, 2010, 9:41 am

He had been full of questions, but Liel was patient and explained what she knew to him. He was Ethaefal and there were others like him that had slipped from the divine realms of Syna and Leth into Mizahar. At first he could not understand his predicament. There were moments when he just sat dumbfounded, unable to comprehend his current state. It made him mostly sad and he struggled to accept and adjust to the information Liel shared with him. At the end of their fireside conversation he sat silent for a long time after which he said, “So be it.”

He had not been hungry but he was curious regarding the taste of the food Liel and Sciellias set before him. It had been some time since he had tasted food and it was pleasant to rediscover that physical sense. He ate a little but it was enough.

He was not aware of how tired he was until Liel showed him his room. All the colours and furnishings created a very relaxing environment. He lay down and smiled at his hostess and thanked her for her kindness and hospitality. He closed his eyes and did as she wished – he dreamt.

He dreamed of being in the presence of Syna and the happy paradise of light. But somehow he felt mute and dull. There was something not as he remembered. Something artificial. He tried to shrug it off but the distortion remained. He also saw Leth approach and Syna’s reaction to the familiar face. It was then everything changed.

He was creeping through the forest with his ancestral dagger in hand. The smell of blood and fear was in the air but neither belonged to him. There he was stalking a war party of five men and the son of a chief – heir of an enemy tribe. He felt so alive as he waited in ambush. The thrill of the hunt was in him. It was then he saw his opening. All he needed o do was run quickly across the trail and make a single cut to accomplish the task given him from the very hand of Myri. He smiled and sprang forward.

Aon sat bolt upright in the dark. His surroundings were strange to him in the dime candle-light. Feeling his way around he found objects that were unfamiliar. There were no weapons, only candles and flowers and a soft rug. He put his hand to his head and tried to remember where he was and what he was doing here. There were slight gaps in his thoughts. He remembered something of Myri, of Syna, but little else. He had to find answers.

The Ethaefal has changed into at lean form of a different man. A tattooed Myrian with black hair and brown eyes, completely unlike the ephemeral statuesque figure of his other incarnation. Slightly confused and disoriented, he assumed the extension of hi dream.

Opening the door silently, he crept down the hall. He remembered something important three doors left, down the hallway. Was this where his target lay? He was the consummate warrior, a renowned and honoured assassin among clan and people. Yet his movements were not as smooth as he remembered. He could be quieter than this.

Reaching the door, he opened it slowly. He could hear the sound of light breathing within. It was a single person, asleep. It was a female from the scent of her. What was he supposed to do? He could not remember. Moving step by step he found the bearings in the room and located the bed upon which the woman slept. There was something familiar about her scent.

He stood now above her, poised to act. She was a young woman unlike any he had seen before. Her hair was perfectly white as shown by candle-light. He could strangle her quietly or simply strike a silent killing blow. But he did neither. He was not clear as to what he should be doing, no memory of Myri’s orders were in his mind. And her face, it brought nothing but a feeling of comfort to him. Perhaps he was not to kill her, but protect her. He wished he knew which. And so the crouched next to her deliberating and trying to remember whether he was to harm or help her. But how could this be? He remembered... dying.

A name flashed across his mind and he simply spoke it, “Liel.”
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.

John Milton, Paradise Lost
User avatar
Aon
Newfallen
 
Posts: 26
Words: 8127
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2010, 8:47 am
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet

Previous

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests