Solo A Whole New World

A man seeks to find his way amidst confusion, doubt and fear.

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The Wilderness of Cyphrus is an endless sea of tall grass that rolls just like the oceans themselves. Geysers kiss the sky with their steamy breath, and mysterious craters create microworlds all their own. But above all danger lives here in the tall grass in the form of fierce wild creatures; elegant serpents that swim through the land like whales through the ocean and fierce packs of glassbeaks that hunt in packs which are only kept at bay by fires. Traverse it carefully, with a guide if possible, for those that venture alone endanger themselves in countless ways.

A Whole New World

Postby Azmere on June 4th, 2018, 3:42 am

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Summer 18, 518 AV
13th Bell


“We need to make a run for a few things.”

“Are we close to anywhere? Why can’t we just make do like always?”

“I know we’re supposed to die down here...but we need bandages, water drops and something other than this rat meat or the pack won’t make it til fall.”

“Fine but you still didn’t say where we were or how you intend on securing these things.”

In the darkness of the tunnels, words became heavy like stones. When a man’s mind is left void of his own memories, these stones turn into a rock slide. It’s hard to describe it- being hollow. Azmere sat down away from the others as he normally did. The very sad-looking dog was sprawled out near him. Both man and beast exchanged glances and each wondering whose ribs were sticking out the most. Rough hands shook slightly as he reached for his pack. The material was leather but soft and worn as if it was thin or poorly tanned to start. A few seasons of humping along the dark and damp underbelly of the Sea of Grass had left its mark.

The blue and gold stare narrowed as the bruised and unsteady fingers pried at the lash which held the sack closed and kept the contents secure. Finally, he was able to wrest the bag open and while one hand held the top, the other dove down inside and rooted around until the desired item was found. The left hand popped up and was holding a piece of salted meat. The canine next to the man perked its ears but didn’t move aside from lifting its massive head from its paws. The icy stare met the contrasting gaze as the man stuck half the meat in his mouth and bit down. Using both the muscles in his neck and the strength of his hand, the wanderer pulled in opposite directions while he clamped down with his jaw until the snack tore in two. As he chewed upon the bitter and slightly pungent morsel, his left hand extended away from his form towards the creature who insisted upon following him about through the muck and mire.

The dog pushed his frame up onto all fours and moved towards the hand. When the muzzle opened, the hand was snatched away with a quick bend of the elbow. Smacking his gums as he chewed, the man used his free hand to snap his fingers and then point at the ground. The animal cocked its head to the side and seemed to not understand for several ticks so the man repeated the unspoken command. This time, the dog sat on its hind legs and looked once more to the meat. The man extended his hand once more but kept a solid fist as he stared at the dog. The distant torch light revealed very little but each being could see the reflections in the inky black pupils of the other. Once the man’s stare was met by that of the beast’s, he opened his palm and offered the snack. The dog gobbled it up greedily which brought a smile to half of the vagabond’s face.

“Besides- we got Hollow Lion to keep things from going to shyke. Right, big fella?”

Laughter echoed from down the tunnel and the man turned to face it as he swallowed the mouthful of sustenance he’d been working over with his molars. The troop he ran with consisted of five men, two dogs and one very large talking rat. The rat didn’t talk but it turned into a man sometimes and then it talked. All of them referred to him as Hollow Lion- a name earned some weeks ago when the motley crew came across a very hungry den of spearbacks. The result was not pretty but the other men still talked about certain aspects of the encounter.

The scarred man didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say. Words were familiar but awkward things- stones in a wishing well. The Hollow Lion rarely spoke so he just nodded and went about the task of resealing his pack and gathering his gear. The laughter died and the rest of the group made their own preparations for departure. When he rose, the big grey dog stood as well. The yellow eye glinted in the torch light- the quiet man was very grateful to the creature. Somehow, his lonely and eerily silent mind was comforted by the presence of another creature that didn’t need to verbalize anything. The scenarios ran through his head unhindered by recollection as he played out various scenarios of where the dog had come from or what the pair had been before they ended up in the belly of the world. Each scene was littered with black space and blank details.

The silent man shouldered his backpack easily but struggled to get the straps of his rucksack lashed as a wave of sadness drummed him backwards against the cool wall of the tunnel. An empty imagination can never conjure joy no more than a parched man can conjure spit. The stare of azure and amber drifted away from the canine and into the granules of the rocks around them all. His stomach growled as it processed the tiny bit of nourishment he’d choked down moments before and that’s all he knew. He’d eaten. He’d shared and it was now time to go. As the sounds of boots shuffling along slick rock shook him from his trance, the quiet man returned to the task at hand and caught the large-eyes stare of his animal companion. The loyal stranger seemed to be unhappy as well but only in the reflection of his adopted master. This recognition stung like a blade to the scarred man as he started to walk after the group. The limp in his left leg ached in the dampness but was scarcely noticed against the burning sensation of doubt deep inside the man. As he shared one more look with the dog, his mind reached out in vain for the animal to hear him. Who am i?

Textbox courtesy of Firenze
Attn: GradersObservation is maxed. Thank you for all your hard work.


where do you go when you don't know who you are?
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Azmere
Seeker of the Lost
 
Posts: 651
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Joined roleplay: October 14th, 2015, 11:57 pm
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A Whole New World

Postby Azmere on June 13th, 2018, 12:45 am

Image
Sometimes, it hurt to walk but it was an accepted pain. The scarred man could feel the knotted tissue in his leg. Something had tried to destroy him and failed; the wound looked to be the doings of man or something close enough to a man to wield a blade. Worn out boots and slick rock made for tough going in the almost dark of the tunnels. Fires were used for cooking and dimly held torches often found use but the simple truth of it all was too honest to question. Not one of the men in the pack ever expected to see the sun again so they simply tried to let their eyes adjust to seeing in the dark as much as possible.

This was especially hard for the man who couldn’t remember his own name. He had tanned skin, thick and tough from the sun’s rays. His arm had a tattoo where light burst from the clouds around a horse and rider but the man with the multicolored eyes couldn’t remember the warmth of the sun or the glow of its fire. Deep in the dark chasms of the world, such thoughts were useless anyway. The talk of surfacing for supplies used to excite him when he first came to be among the pack. Honorbound to walk in shadows, the Underwatch rarely showed themselves in the light of day. There was no reprieve for their duty. The people on the surface depended upon the short-lived lives of the brave souls beneath the Sea of Grass to keep the tide of ugly at bay. Granted, most of the things that inhabited the tunnels preferred to stay there but the roaming threat of small war parties seemed to provide sufficient distraction in the lean times.

He shuffled along with his head down and a kukri in his hand. The big animal walked beside him in silence with eyes on its master but a cold nose that was always seeking anything out of place. Even the scarred man had learned to identify certain members of their pack by smell alone. The absence of light often created a stronger ability for the wanderer to decipher all the musty scents of the underworld. He wrinkled his nose as the all-too-familiar odor of the rat man filled his nostrils. The shifting individual was in his human form and leaning against the tunnel wall with a low-burning torch in his hand. HIs beady eyes stared at the fallen fighter until they eyes locked over a short enough distance that made the man with multi-colored eyes stop; likewise, his furry companion stopped as well.

“Can I ask you about your eyes and not get socked for my trouble?” The raspy voice inquired. Rat had a tone like the scuffing of two pieces of soft rock together where each hit stole a little from the chunks. After a while, his conversations tended to get softer like powder hitting the cold stone. The warrior nodded once and started walking again with his dog and Rat taking up space before and behind him. The kelvic had stared at the eyes as they passed and raised the torch so they all could see the path laid out ahead.

“I get the blue and the yellow, Hollowman.” Rat soon began to prattle on. “I’ve seen stars before, you know. Can you remember when you got them?” A dirty look from the contrasting gaze cast quickly over the broad shoulder was all the answer he needed. “No. No, of course you don’t remember. You don’t even know your own name.” The spindly fellow seemed to make some half-outloud calculations then continued. “I-I don’t know what they called it but I think, well...at least as far as I can recall- the stars mean you have magic!” He emphasized the last word.

The lost soul in front of the babbling kelvic listened to everything being said. He was able to process most of it but the concept of a magic being stored in his eyes was lost on him. Once before, someone had tried to explain djed to the scarred traveller and he couldn’t grasp it. As his imagination began to wonder with painfully bland illustrations at what eye magic might do, the blade in his hand became apparent. The man gripped the handle and twisted his wrist to see the angled blade glint up at him in the dim flickering of the torch. He had been given the knife in exchange for some kind of flat piece of metal and he hadn’t the occasion to use it much. It felt awkward but it also wasn’t heavy. The man studied the change in the metal where the edge had been set along the inside track.

Rat apparently noticed and commented amidst his running tale of eye magic that the man had drowned out for now. “That’s for slicing, Big Guy.” The scarred face nodded as they continued along behind the rest of the group. He drew his arm up and pointed the angle down and out then brought his arm down in the same direction. The slight wisp of the air breaking around his blade was enough to tell the man with multi-colored eyes he had just performed a decent strike. Something of that nature would certainly cause damage in the right situation.

Textbox courtesy of Firenze
Attn: GradersObservation is maxed. Thank you for all your hard work.


where do you go when you don't know who you are?
User avatar
Azmere
Seeker of the Lost
 
Posts: 651
Words: 754081
Joined roleplay: October 14th, 2015, 11:57 pm
Location: Cyphrus
Race: Human, Drykas
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Overlored (1)

A Whole New World

Postby Azmere on June 26th, 2018, 2:57 am

Image
They walked for a long time. The scarred man passed his time by closing his eyes and trying to follow his cohorts simply by sound. This was fine for the most part but often ended when there was a sudden change in the path but the echoing sounds underground cast false directions. On the fourth time that he slipped and fell, he elected to not play that game anymore. His fellow wanderers laughed at him but didn’t do so in a mean spirited way. Instead, they encouraged him to practice with his blade; the kukri. Rat was the chattiest of the bunch and he elected to show the warrior a few tricks with a short blade.

“First, you gotta remember that little blades are sharp and don’t need a lot of force to cut.” The spindly man pointed to the knife being held by the scarred warrior. “You won’t be cutting off heads wit’ dat so don’t try. Stab the soft bits, slice the exposed ones and wave your rabbit sticker around like a loon and you’ll be fine.” He illustrated slicing and stabbing with an empty hand then opened his arms to indicate that his student should replicate the actions.

The man with big arms and a confused look thought for a moment as he recalled what he had just seen. It had been very dark but his multi-colored eyes had adjusted enough by now to know what he saw. He limped slightly less than earlier now that he had a task to help divert his mind from the dull throbbing ache in his thigh. He gripped the knife’s hilt and did his best to mimic the motions of his kelvic companion. He lifted his arm and swung down at the air in a terrifying arc of unimaginable carnage. Rat laughed.

“Mate, if you swing from your shoulder, you’ll be dead before you finish.” He patted the big man’s elbow then his wrist. “Small blade. Small movements.” The beady-eyed man nodded. “Again.”

The novice kept trudging along but this time, he held his arm closer to his body, elbow clinging to his ribs then sliced out with a twist of his elbow and a slight rotation of the shoulder. “Good”, his coach called. The scarred fellow felt strange making such small swings but he repeated the process again and again. When his swing would get lazy the man instructing him would make a correction or a joke or both.

This went on for bells and it had made the man weary. He sheathed his knife and fumbled with his drinking sack when the call came out for them all to gather. When they ragtag crew was assembled, there was something odd about the space they inhabited. The big man who ran the group said they would be entering the surface for a short time. Any who wished to stay underground could but this was a visit of necessity and their scout had found a cadre of knights with which to trade. The concept of all of this was foreign to the man covered in scars and windmarks but he voiced a gruff desire to accompany his comrades up to the surface. His curiosity of what else existed ate at him and for the first time in a long time… he felt something intangible stir within his core; his soul.

Textbox courtesy of Firenze
Attn: GradersObservation is maxed. Thank you for all your hard work.


where do you go when you don't know who you are?
User avatar
Azmere
Seeker of the Lost
 
Posts: 651
Words: 754081
Joined roleplay: October 14th, 2015, 11:57 pm
Location: Cyphrus
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Medals: 1
Overlored (1)


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