Secrets and Shadows (Wrenmae, Zandelia)

by **Shadowfang** on March 15th, 2012, 10:35 pm

20th of Spring, 512AV

Location: Stumble Alley

The sun had barely set, leaving trails of pink, red, violet, and orange in the sky where it had hung. In the alleyway, however, it already appeared to be midnight. The walls and buildings around blocked out a good deal of the light and kept the area cool despite the moist, stagnant air. Dark, dank, still, quiet. It was Shadowfang's kind of place.

Stumble Alley was a place that not many people frequented and those who did usually did not stay for long. Still, it was always good to be cautious. There could be anyone lurking around any corner. One lurker in question crept around one of these corners, keeping low to the ground and covering himself with his wings to blend in with the darkness. Shadowfang examined the alleyway, panning his eyes from side to side in an attempt to detect any life. He made his way to the other end of the alley, peeking around the next corner as well. Satisfied that he was alone, he stood and made his way back to the center of the alleyway.Sitting down against a wall, Shadowfang pulled out his journal, quill, and inkwell and laid them to the side.

It was time to do what he came here to do.

Holding both hands in front of him, he focused on the space between them. Darker than black. Emptier than empty. Lighter than air. Nothing. After a good forty seconds of concentration, a small, black hole began to form. It quickly grew to the size of his fist and remained that way. Shadowfang stared into the black Void. The portal had a jagged red outline, giving it a slightly intimidating look. It remained stagnant with no Pull or Push that could make the portal potentially dangerous. Shadowfang picked up a small rock and placed it in the void. The cold of the Void attacked his hand, sending shivers up his arm. He pulled his hand away like it had been bitten, reminding himself how stupidly dangerous sticking a limb in the Void was. He put both hands near either side of the portal, and began to concentrate again.

Solid. Plentiful. Abundant. Full. The portal in front of him began to deteriorate from the inside out. Disappearing bit by bit until it was gone completely. Shadowfang sighed and dropped his hands. Filling a portal was significantly easier than opening one, but the flow of djed through his body always took a larger toll on him than it would anyone else for some reason. He put his hands up again. He figured he had enough strength left for a couple more small portals without hurting himself. Besides, if he did not push his limits, he would never get any more skilled.

by **Zandelia** on March 22nd, 2012, 4:39 am

Stumble Alley, one of the darkest and grimiest parts of Sunberth indeed, was not a place anyone with sense wished to find themselves after dark. It was commonplace to walk in one end of the mostly linear no man’s land and come out of neither end at all – more likely ending up in the ground, if you were lucky enough. No, it was only a place for the foolish or the insane, a distinction that was not always very clear cut in its verdict. It was dark, the sun not quite gone but rapidly disappearing from the sky and heralding the coming of complete darkness, the time of shadows and murders. So it was with no small sense of trepidation that Zandelia found herself slinking through the area, trying her best not to be seen. She was beginning to think there was no distinction between insane and foolish, they were one and the same.

This is a bloody stupid idea Zandelia, a petching stupid idea! But no, have to know don’t you? was the general gist of what her thought process contained, when it was not concentrating upon not being caught and – indeed – preventing the occurrence of a heart attack.

“Damnable waifs and their hiding places” she breathed to herself as she peered around a corner before shifting around it, keeping close to the wall and then loping across to the other side of the street to find a darker shadow to blend into.

She was not altogether fantastic at sneaking, however she was rather good at staying still enough to not be noticed. That, coupled with her Shadowsilk Robes, made her a force to be ignored easily when in a dark corner. She had found hers, and the building she had been told about. She had been digging, for anything unusual and unique within the city. She had learnt much of the lies of drunken old sots, however one rumour had seemed worth pursuing, even if it was based upon the logic that it sounded so fantastical as to be true. She had been told of a man with wing, fur and a sense of civility that was not commonly found within the hearts of the monstrous. She had been told he was a Zith by many whom liked to think they knew everything, however she had little idea what a Zith was – or if they even existed. No, she was here out of curiosity rather than for anything of use. So, she waited, patient and still, leaning against a wall and in the lee of a small niche – an effective location.

Better not be a waste of my damned time, had enough of that already the past few days she thought to herself morosely. She had failed recently, merely continuing the trend for the past season or two. She was taking heavy knocks to her self-esteem, and though she was loathe to admit it, she sorely needed a success or her life might very well become pointless very quickly.

It was her self-destructive thoughts that almost cost her such an opportunity. A small flickering, a shifting of the light against differing shades of darkness, caught her peripheral vision and as any true Sunberthian would have done – she ducked. There was no attack coming, though she was glad if there had been she would have avoided it, but there was a suspicious character attempting to be sneaky. It was a strange sight, more of a moving slump than anything. Before her eyes its shape and size seemed to change intermittently. She had not been noticed, she thought, however she still did not move from her crouched position until it had swerved around a corner and gone.

“What the…” she whispered as she placed her feet one in front of the other, rolling them from the inside of the sole to the outside to cushion the sounds, following the shadow to its destination.

It turned out she only had to go to the corner, peering around after pulling her hood into position for hide her hair and pulling the face cloth up to cover all but her single eye, to see the mass had turned into what she had originally sought – a winged man. He was crouching she saw, his hands in front of him as if they should have been loosely chained together, though she saw no chains. It was a strange sight and no mistake, to see what she assumed must be a Zith crouching down and apparently doing nothing. She assumed there was something at work but was too far away to garner much more than a general observation of the creature. He looked powerful, if it was indeed a male, but also delicate. The muscles around the shoulder seemed to ripple and the wings looked almost like leather from her vantage point.

This night may be interesting after all she grinned o herself inwardly as, for the first time in a long while, she had found something.

by **Wrenmae** on April 16th, 2012, 11:15 am

Shadows were the double edged sword for the unwary. A fool held the obscurity of a shadow in high regard without first realizing its ability to hide others as well. Keeping his cloak around himself, Shroud was ever aware of these dangers as he flitted from ally to ally, footfalls on the hard stone an echoing reminder that his passage was easily watched, easily heard. He scowled, emitting Res from his left hand slowly as a precaution. The fool who took him by surprise would find themselves blown off their feet and swiftly followed by a dagger to the gut. Magic was as respected in Sunberth as wanton slaughter was...perhaps even less so. They were all paranoid of mages, of the power to bend minds and bodies to ones own will...

He allowed himself a rueful smile, perhaps they should be.

Getting used to Sunberth was a process rooted in patience, diligence, and liberal smothering of caution. He was no stranger to being jumped for money, kept little coin on his person as a result. The use of alleys to get between places was a new habit, one that assumed a level of anonymity he was comfortable in excluding...the extra danger was a possibility, but one he accepted.

It was the unfolding of wings that caught his ear, the creak of bone and sinew flexing. Pausing at the junction of an alley, Shroud peered into the gloom that resided there, eyes searching for the origin of the sound. It was Shadowfang, the Zith from the Crimson Edge. He was crouched in the darkness, hunched over some unimaginable task that required his full attention.

Within him, Wrenmae railed at the appearance of the creature, embedded fear flaring within him. Shroud, however, curbed the emotion and approached the Zith on the balls of his feet, quietly. He seemed intent on something, an item perhaps? It was cupped in his clawed hands, but when Shroud glanced over his shoulder, he was taken aback to see the Void, a minuscule point of nothing that existed between the Zith's fingers.

Drawing back, hissing slightly, Shroud drew his blade and leveled it at the Zith.

"Practicing magic openly in Sunberth, quick way to get yourself killed, bat-boy."

by **Shadowfang** on April 21st, 2012, 6:02 pm

The sliding of steel from a sheath and a dark voice speaking threatening words pulled Shadowfang back into reality and broke his concentration. He had been far to focused on the task at hand to be able to detect any nearby disturbance until it was too late. His entire body froze and his vision went out of focus for an instant, then refocused, sharp and clear. Adrenaline began pumping through his veins and he fight-or-flight instinct began pounding at the edges of his mind, ordering him to flee. He remained where he was. If he made the slightest movement, there would be no question, he would be killed on the spot.

The portal between his hands began to slowly dissipate as he focused on closing it. The black orb disappeared and he remained crouched, dropping his hands and resting his wrists on his thighs. It was then that he realized something. Shadowfang had easily made the assumption that this unknown voice hated magic, but if that was the case, he would most likely be dead by now. At the very least, the voice had given him time to close the portal. His mind began to formulate a different assumption, that perhaps the voice did not hate magic, but was simply distrustful of it? The fact that there was a blade pointing at him was
Almost enough to disprove his theory, but he wanted to push his luck anyway. "And yet, I have not been killed."

His voice was low and deliberate, keeping a calm tone and almost challenging the man. His eyes darted to the side, as if they were trying to see the man without moving his head. He remained as still as possible, not wanting to make any movement that could be viewed as a threat. Death was not on his to do list. He added a question to his earlier observation. "Tell me... why is that?"

by **Zandelia** on April 26th, 2012, 2:01 am

Zandelia watched from the shadows of her position, head peering ever so slightly around the corner of the wall and certain that she would not be seen, much less noticed. It was difficult to garner the notice of someone whom not only did not seem to know you were there, but would have difficulty spotting black upon black in the darkness of night. Not for the first time was thankful of the blanket of darkness, the shroud of shadows that cloaked her so artfully. She could sometimes even begin to believe that she was beloved of Akajia, had earned her favor somehow in her ceaseless search for hidden knowledge and guarded secrets. It was a fanciful idea that all too often came crashing down around her, not so much a dream as a wish in reality. She would have given anything to meet the divine mistress herself. Still, she pushed such foolish concerns from her mind for the moment, instead focusing her gaze upon the Zith now once more.

Far more important events to take note of this night it seems, more than initially intended she thought to herself as she watched the scenes unfold with a shocked expression upon her countenance.

If she strained her eyes, wishing she could see further now, she could almost imagine the notion that a blackness even more absolute had appeared before the creature, a Zith she thought she had seen now, in a small circle for a few moments, the Zith toying with it for a few moments as hissing before it closed once more. She shook her head and wondered if she had been imagining such a thing as her consciousness viciously tugged at her to recognize some important but overlooked piece of data. She frowned and concentrated further, upon the Zith now, her instincts telling her she needed to recognize something. Recognize she did too, a few moments of pondering rewarded with revelation. She knew this man indeed, or rather had seen him wandering sometimes around the Crimson Edge encampment.

“Shadowfang…”she whispered to herself quietly, putting a name to the face whilst her intrigue soared momentarily in musings upon his purpose so far from his usually associated location.

Then the night took a decided turn for the worst, from a certain perspective at any rate. A man she was all too familiar with, not to mention not entirely comfortable with at all, had entered the other side of the alley and began walking towards Shadowfang. He was a Crimson Edge member, though if it were in name only and if he wished to serve the group well remained unclear to her – though she suspected he held his own agenda that may not have been altogether peaceful. Shroud she knew his name was, however she had good cause to know it was not his ‘true’ name – if he even had one. She had spent much time wondering upon what exactly about the man gave her pause, though she believed it was mostly instinctual. It was not so much that he was a treat to her, she could find no evidence of that beyond arrogance.

No, it is that he is an uncontrollable factor. A fly in the ointment, whatever you call it. He smells of trouble and seems more inclined to cause chaos than solve it perhaps she thought to herself as the memories of the rescue of Lusa came back to her.

She decided to try something that she had meant to do but never really had the opportunity without interruption before. She began the process of concentration required to force the energies of her body into the pathways she wished, focusing it up into her skull and into her eye – a connection left linking them to her mind so as to provide proper perspective. It was then that she saw the aura’s begin to flicker into life around both of the men. She still could only concentrate on one at any given time and decided to opt for Shroud over Shadowfang, the opportunity to ‘read’ him all too unique. She did not catch much of their words, though she thought she heard magic mentioned and wondered if her apparent apparition of sight were truth instead.

This should be interesting…. she thought as she began her assimilation of color.

by **Wrenmae** on April 30th, 2012, 11:40 pm

Ah, so it spoke...how marvelous, the wonders these creatures were sometimes capable of parroting. He tapped the blade against his sheath, a slow rhythmic clang of metal, like the gears in his mind, ever turning, ever moving. "Only the foolish press their luck," Shroud said at last, grinning in the darkness, "Ordinarily your kind are little more than monsters to me, uncivilized beasts scarcely better than your resembled animal counterpart...but I've never seen a Zith capable of magic."

He glanced down the alleyway, noting the shape of shadows and the way the gloom settled heavily across the strained stone. No one, not a soul.

"Where'd you learn Voiding, hmm? Picked it up from a slave maybe?"

The dagger slid down and tapped against Shadowfang's chin, gently insisting he rise, "You're one of the new recruits, aren't you?"

Wren frowned, his free hand rubbing his chin as he looked over the savage countenance. Already it seemed more controlled than most of the monsters he'd seen. Hell, it had spoken in more than garbled growls and chirps so that was a plus...and it wore clothes.

A strange mimicry, but regardless, it at least meant the beast had the ability to learn.

"You have a name, don't you? Something ludicrous...I can't remember. Shadowflesh? Fangdarkness, Wingedannoyance...I just can't keep your kind's primitive naming system in my head." He withdrew the blade, but only just, his eyes dark...made darker in the shadows of the alley, "Why don't you remind me...what is it they call you, again?"

by **Shadowfang** on May 2nd, 2012, 4:04 am

The man was talkative, if nothing else. Annoyingly so. At the very least, he did not kill the Zith where he sat. Shadowfang crouched there, as still and as silent as could be, simply staring ahead at the ground in front of his feet and absorbing everything that was said. He did not recognize the voice, but he must have been someone he knew. Otherwise, he would already be lying dead on the floor. Even if he happened to be Shadowfang's captain, he was not going to give the man the pleasure of leaking any information from him. But when the cold steel blade of a dagger pushed against his chin, he knew he did not have any other choice but to rise.

Slowly, he rose, turning to face the voice. He had a little difficulty remembering who he was, but he knew that the man could be seen in the encampment. A few more moments of pondering dug up a name to put to the face. This is Wrenmae? At the question of his own name Shadowfang's eyes glinted with immediate anger. "You will call me Shadowfang." he said sternly. Or I will rip your throat out. That final thought, he kept to himself. It was best not to threaten someone who was pointing something sharp at you. Even if threatening him was a bad idea, he still wanted to get back at the man. He decided that two could play at Wrenmae's game.

"If I am not mistaken, I am sure you have some boring name which you are called by. All your kind do, pinky." he almost spat the final word, attempting an insult of his own. He was quite surprised at himself. Words were usually not his strong point, especially Common words. He stared into the darkness of Wrenmae's eyes, almost as black as the Other Side. His wings ruffled, ready to take flight at any moment. However, the alleyway was too narrow for him to spread his wings fully and flap with enough force to push himself away from the human. He was in a tight spot. His insult was more silly than hurtful, but if it were enough to push Wrenmae over the edge, Shadowfang would be in a tight spot.

by **Archelon** on September 28th, 2012, 6:30 am

Thread Award

"..."

And the Results!!!!:

Wrenmae :

Shadowfang :

Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? :

by **Jester** on April 23rd, 2013, 5:47 pm

Grade Addition

Zandelia :

Notes :

"The difference between a jester and a fool is that the jester knows he's a jester"

DISCLAIMER: If you think I have been foolish in grading your thread, don't hesitate to PM me. I am happy to take another look at anything you feel is in error, but keep in mind the other Storytellers and I have final say.