Misunderstanding (Open)

[Skylar]

10th Day, Winter 510

Deep in thought, Skylar walked the midday lanes of Syliras. He had been cooped up inside Stormhold for what felt like months. Perhaps it was months. He had forgotten. And yet, as it so inevitably did, the fog of ignorance lifted from Skylar's mind, and he once again found himself with a desire to accomplish. To do deeds. To do something. It was a dangerous position for a would-be immortal to take. Skylar survived precisely because of his ability to stay under the radar, and he was all too aware of the ease by which his life could be snuffed out by a creature two percent of his age. Such hypocrisy from those so young! As if they could begin to understand the weight of generations.

So Skylar was usually cautious. But, as happened about once every hundred years or so, he now felt that instinctive drive to accomplish. It was a reasonably pleasant day, all things considered. Even as Skylar's soft skin was chilled from a wind, he felt reasonably warmed by the sun shining from above. It was nice to be out among the weather, but it was the people that bothered him. Mortal little insects, he envied their ability to completely waste what little time was given to them. Skylar had lived a hundred lives and yet nothing compared to the fire that drove these mortal shells.

It was pathetic, really. These knights personified the very ideas Skylar loathed. Clinging together like drowning rats in an effort to stave off the inevitable, and by doing so robbing their fellows of what little pleasures the world had to offer. For once, Skylar was moved to raw anger, an almost alien emotion, and with a feat of surprising strength he smashed his left arm into the cobblestones of the courtyard.

Decayed skin ripped and brittle bone shattered, causing some of the bone to jut out of Skylar's elbow and a whitish liquid to drip from the wound where blood would be. The pain was exquisite. Skylar felt vindicated, almost alive, but clearly he'd drawn too much attention. He was getting strange looks. He hated revealing his Nuit nature to others, too.

"It's alright." He assured those who were staring. He tried to hide the jutting bone from the clearly broken and mangled arm behind his back, to no avail. The useless limb hung at his side. "This was simply a misunderstanding."

[Ivan]

Ivan walked with the people of Syrlias, trying his hardest to overhear those that needed men for work or people to die. He slightly lamented the lightness of his coin purse, but sitting some where and crying about it would be doing nothing to fill it. Last night he had done something he never thought he’d have to in a city such as this, with so many knights around.

His funds were low and his food was in shortage, and he happened upon a drunk in a dark ally. The man had purchased meat. Ivan was not sure what animal it had been, but it had smelled delicious. Not willing to kill just yet, Ivan had walked up to him as he traversed a rather deserted ally and hit him in the back of the knee with the hammer he still had on his shoulder. The crack of bones breaking was as loud to him as two boulders crashing together, and so he collected his meal and left before he could be seen. It was the only meat he’d had in several days.

With belly filled and a fitful sleep upon the stony ground of the castle-city, Ivan was a bit more cheerful. Suddenly, though, a man he’d not even noticed slammed his fist upon the stones that this place was made of, as if he was one of the Isur who would do such things to more effect. Clearly he was of a lesser breed, as his arm was greatly damaged... Indeed, the bones of his arm were sticking out, yet there was no blood. He Ivan was not the only one to stop and stare as he seemed not to feel the wound. He said a few words, but none that Ivan heard. Then the smell hit him with the force of Izurdin’s very own hammer.

It was horrid, this stench. It was as though a carrion eater had voided it’s bowls upon the rotted meats it usually fed upon. It was not unfamiliar to Ivan, who once was to be a warrior of his home. the smell of death was strong in the air, so much so that he almost gagged. He noticed no blood pouring forth from the person’s arm at all, though some sort of clear liquid leaked from around the bleach white bone. Ivan gripped his hammer more tightly then normal. This was an unnatural creature. All living things bled, as this thing did not. He was wary of this person, if even it was one.

[Klyphaestus]

10th Day, Winter 510

'And thus swift-foot Ankafeer said to the stallion:
"Proud as you are who has brought me the news,
I greet you, oh gracious King of Horses,
With my deepest love and respect, and bitter regret,
For I am bound to this foreign land, unable to move."
"It is you who rein your heart, swift-foot Ankafeer,"
Replied the white stallion, standing tall and steady.
"As the grass is moved by the wind, your heart freely sways.
Look, the darkest night has passed and stars are sinking west.
Soon the breath of Dawn shall sweep down upon the sleepers' eyes,
And a new journey shall begin."'

Klyphaestus blew his breath with his eyes wide open as if he himself were Dawn, and several children among his audience giggled. Klyphaestus smiled at them, his dark eyes gleaming in the sunlight. The innocence and pure joy most children held always seemed to tug his heart with thin strings. He swept his gaze over the small crowd around him, circled his black wool cloak which spread out on the ground for money collecting, touched his chest and continued:

'When the words of the white stallion reached Ankafeer,
The young, noble prince felt his heart rejoyce.
"How you have woken me, gracious King of Horses,
From the deep slumber in which my spirit was slackened.
From mysery you forged me hope, and from fear, strength.
I shall fallow you, the mightest and wisest of all,
To travel across vast and alien lands.
If me you would, glorious King, I shall run a step behind you."'

Then Klyphaestus heard a mixture of sounds, the sounds of things craching and snapping, which somehow made him flinch. He stood on his tiptoe, trying to make out the source of the sounds. And there, where sudden silence and some other strange feelings seemed to form a circle, Klyphaestus spotted a male with shadows under his eyes standing alone. Klyphaestus could not see clear enough from the narrow space between the people surrounding him, but the male apparently had injured one of his arms. With the poise of a landlord greeting a traveler, Klyphaestus called out: 'Are you alright?'

[Stag Fern]

Stag led his horse around Sylirias trying to find the Great Bazaar for food when he a sudden surge of a crowd forced him off his course and into a part of Sylirias he has never been to before. Scanning the surrounding buildings confirmed his fears he was lost. Gods be Good he thought Where am I. After some thinking he just decided to follow a group of people. The group made their way this way and that finally stopping at a man singing. He listened to the man sing and tried to figure out what he was singing about, suddenly he stopped and he spread his cloak on the ground then he went back to singing. Stag watched the man continue while people threw a few coins, plunging his hand into his pocket he groped for a few coins. He tossed the coins onto the cloak about 3 silvers. The next thing that happened was that people were surrounding a small part of the wall and curiosity got the better of him. He mounted to get a better view while coaxing his horse bit by bit to go forward, he still has a long way to go before he can finally ride properly but atleast he can do that much. The horse lazily made it's way towards the crowd already used to people, looking more like a child than a man, he leaned forward. He saw many people surrounding the man but also kept a distance around him too as if he had a barrier around him. From what he could see the man was hurt but the glare of the sun prevented him from seeing more although just one look could tell that he was different. A man zoomed by him and offered the hurt man some help. He recognized this man as the singer but another person he noticed was a man with a hammer staying a few more feet farther than the rest. This man was cautious about the hurt man making Stag take a longer harder look. he noticed that the man had a hurt arm but strangely it smelled of rotting meat. Curious again he ploughed through the crowd. "Tell me sir but why are you so calm" asked Stag with his big innocent eyes filled with nothing but curiosity towards the hurt man. For the hurt man didn't look like he was in pain.

oocDon't mind if I drop in

[Skylar]

Everything. Everything must bleed eventually. But this was not bleeding. This was nothing. The pain was intense. Incredible, really. It was a euphoria. A rush. It let him know he was alive even though that very statement was a falsehood. It let him lie to himself, and he loved it for that.

Blood flowed, but the whitish ichor that dripped from his injury had no such ambitions. It sunk into the cobbles below in small drops. Skylar attempted to amend the obvious injury by pushing the shard of bone that was sticking out of his arm back into place. However, his body was so decayed and in such poor shape that all this misguided action did was cause Skylar to pull off the entire decayed forearm of the injured limb. With a sickening crunch Skylar found himself holding his own arm. Skylar could be heard quietly gasping from the unexpected and brutal pain.

Quickly discarding the limb, Skylar addressed the assembled crowd that had gathered before him. "What's the matter? Have none of you ever seen a Nuit before? You want to help? Get me a fresh corpse!" Skylar's voice was haughty and irritable. They were children. They were all children.

"Out of my way!"

[Klyphaestus]

Klyphaestus stared at the injured man with fear and disgust as he tore his forearm off and spoke to the crowd around him. Klyphaestus could not make out the exact words because of the distance between, but the sight could not be mistaken. The man was a Nuit.

This realization brought awe and horror to Klyphaestus. A Nuit. He had heard terrible stories about this kind, of how their dark powers devouring people alive. The broken arm held by the Nuit was a sight unbearable to look upon. Klyphaestus focused his gaze on the flesh of the Nuit's face.

But despite the fear, there seemed to be something else in his chest, something feverish, almost like a dangerous obssession. There stood a Nuit.

Klyphaestus rreturned to himself and quickly collected the money and the cloak, then edged forward with great cautious as part of the crowd started to go away. He stopped beside an Isur who was gripping his hammer, and looked at the haughty yet injured Nuit.

[Ivan]

Ivan watched as the man ripped his own arm off. No blood flowed forth, only a barely distinguishable clear liquid. This thing was not natural, of that he was now sure. The weaker humans all fled before this creature. Having lived all his life in the mountains, he’d never met this sort of thing, nor even heard of it. It offended Ivan that people did not hold their ground. One man stood by him, even moved up, though. The young busker who’d been entertaining children earlier. At least one human was not afraid.

Ivan manipulated the catch on his shield with the arm it was on, the inner mechanics of it making slight noise as it extended. A fine Isurian craft, this shield was. It gave a slight click as the now outer part of the shield fell into place. What was once a small buckler was now twice the normal size. This thing that smelled of death wanted a fresh corpse. If it made any threatening move towards him it would have one.

Ivan turned his head slightly, to give a glance at the busker. He seemed more interested then fearful of the creature. He might know a thing or two about it. That only made Ivan slightly distrust him, though. The wounded thing and the street performer seemed of little danger though. One was an unarmed human and the other was literally falling apart. Ivan moved closer to the busker, but said nothing. His grasp on the common language was not so great.

[Stag Fern]

When the man ripped off his own arm Stag couldn't be more disgusted by what he saw. He froze for a moment and cold sweat slithered down his neck. Mad he must be mad was his first thoughts and like everyone else he wanted to leave but he just couldn't. Curiousity got the better of him. The crowd surrounding the injured man started to back off muttering Nuit, i just saw a Nuit. The parting crowd did make an easy path towards the armless nuit. Seizing the chance he put his heels to his horse. However his horse had other ideas and stayed stiff. Annoyed Stag tried again, this time digging his heels harder into the horse but again it stayed only whinnying and giving Stag an odd look. Giving up Stag dismounted and just left his horse there. "Horses" he sighed making his way towards the nuit Each step he took towards the nuit filled his head with thoughts Who was this man and what is a nuit. Why did his arm not bleed Before long most of the crowd was gone but two humans. The singer from before and a brawny figure holding a hammer and shield resembling an Isur. He couldn't tell but most likely he was an Isur. Where was he hiding a shield he thought. Sooner or later he was going to know. The questions that plagued him.

OOCsorry if you guys were reading my previous post. After reading it too my eyes hurt but i fixed it now. I guess I was tired. So again sorry but it won't happen again promise