Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jun 23, 2006 20:45:25 GMT -8
nodding, the mask's six eyes flashed and created a portal to the courtyard in Ormland. he said to his son "we have some work for you....Shio and Ex's weapons have been shattered, so i need you to fix them into a sythe for me....think you can handle it?" and with that, the mask floated and entered Vincent's pack, so he could rest for a bit as he waited on his son's answer
((continued in The Courtyard))
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Post by vinceneko on Jun 23, 2006 20:55:58 GMT -8
smiling, hge nodded as he said "i felt the steel calling out to me....and if you want it, i'll do it" he then ran straight at a tree, ran up it and jumped rigght into the portal, yelling "YAHOO!!" the whole time.
((continued in The Courtyard))
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Post by The Forsaken Subtle Sin Saint on Nov 26, 2006 19:52:57 GMT -8
RESET
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Post by osmosisd on Dec 7, 2006 0:56:44 GMT -8
Suddenly, the cliff nearby shimmered. It looked like a simple disturbance in the air, like heat from a fire, when suddenly, pale green and golden blur shot out of the cliff, almost like a bullet straight up, and with the sound of stone against... Something... It fell back down to the ground, masses of dust clouding about. Coughing, Morgan stumbled to his feet, and waved his hand about until the dust directly about him dissipated. Glancing about, the man took a brief look at the sun above, and furrowed his brow. He dusted off his suit, and took a look about him as the powdery residue cleared. He was dressed in some sort of shiny chitin plate armor, light as a feather and stronger than steel, and it was colored a dark gold and crested with a leafy green, though it was dull, not bright. Heading from by his shoulders was a cape, seemingly made of silver, but the way it flowed defied its very appearance. Hidden beneath the curls of this strange cloth, strapped to his back, was a dizzying array of blades, all scimitars. Three pairs were positioned there, with another pair by his boots, a pair at his thighs, and a pair at his hips. Whoever he was, he was obviously well armed, and he lowered his arms to have his hands each on the opposite side, holding two of the blades on his back. Turning his head to the side, Morgan looked along the side of the cliffs. As his amethyst eyes darted about they froze, and the pupils dilated. His fine face morphed into a grimace, and he shook his head slightly, to shake the fringe of his long black hair out of his eyes.
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Post by Raiders on Dec 7, 2006 21:59:42 GMT -8
There was a sudden hush in the area, as if all the small animals were too frightened to speak or move. A thick, swirling black miasma began to pour out of the side of the cliff, which was riddled with caves and holes. They didn't know what had woken their hunger, only that they were hungry. Pouring up towards the top of the cliff where they'd felt the disturbance, they spied a single living being, and each vied with the other, if there could be an individual among them, to consume it. The drive pained them, spurred them hungrily onward, and the miasma dove sharply towards the new meal.
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Post by osmosisd on Dec 7, 2006 23:32:45 GMT -8
As the tangle of creatures paced forwards into sight, Morgan drew his two blades partially, taking a leap backwards to judge his sudden enemy. By what he could see, which was little, these creatures were but abominations. Quickly sheathing the weapons again, he rolled backwards, at the same time drew the two blades at his boots, his Displacers. Shifting his feet, he slid them against the ground and lunged forwards, striking alongside with his blades as he would pass by the Raiders, as to make a testing blow before fully engaging. As he was to land, he would twist around suddenly, bringing the blades in a sharp spiral down to the ground, further preventing the creatures from attacking him as he did so, as they would be under threat of being struck by the shimmering blades.
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Post by Raiders on Dec 16, 2006 1:47:29 GMT -8
Some of the Raiders were of course able to avoid the blades, but being a miasma of lost souls, others were bound to be caught by them. These displaced wretches simply vanished, as if he'd swept a bit of the black in the air away. A small space formed between the newcomer and the Raider miasma, as they weren't completely without intelligence. They continued to pour out of the cliffs and swirl around him, seeking blood, some weakness, an opening where they could pour in and devour him where he stood.
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Post by osmosisd on Dec 16, 2006 12:43:31 GMT -8
Glancing about as he stood up to his full height, Morgan could see that he was thoroughly outnumbered. This was a single battle even more difficult than the time he had fought a dozen Sharn all at once. He swung his blades about in a defensive spin, silently and quickly looking about at the same time for an opening. Suddenly, he saw a glimpse of light in the writhing mass. A quick notion in his mind, and he dived through, tumbling out the other side and bounding to his feet. Taking a brief look back, he could spot the numerous bodies emerging, and the sheer number made the hair on his neck stand on end. Had he been a wolf, his hackles would have risen. He was not used to fighting undead, but by the look of these things, he could tell they were souls, spirits of some sort. Narrowing his amethyst eyes, he glared straight forwards, sending out an invisible wave of energy that would affect anything in his line of sight with a soul, even souls themselves, potentially blinding them. Of course, he had no idea whether this would work or not, seeing as they could use hearing, smell, or even some sixth sense. In his distress, as soon as he could feel the wave of energy forming, he spun about and sprinted towards the nearest cliff edge, his blades in hand. Meanwhile, his soulspeak-turned-attack could potentially be sensed by any other creature nearby that dealt with souls, with the power of the aura. Such was the nature of the language. If they understood it, it would be nothing short of a fearsome battlecry.
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Post by Raiders on Dec 16, 2006 16:50:27 GMT -8
The miasma avoided him even as they sought to devour him, writhing in indecision. When he sent his wave of soulspeak after them, he made up what was left of their minds for them. There were a few that were in the path, and while it didn't destroy or immobilize them, it did disorient them enough that they forgot why they'd left the cliff, and began pouring back into it. Soon there seemed to be two streams of black air swirling around him; those that were affected by his energy and send packing, and those drawn to the lure of fresh meat, pouring out of the cliff towards him.
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Post by osmosisd on Dec 17, 2006 14:21:15 GMT -8
Morgan didn't stop to see what had happened, and swerved about the black masses, sprinting towards the edge of the cliff. He had a creeping feeling that something would rear up in front of him and block his path, and raising his swords as he ran, he prepared to make a dashing blow against whatever foe might materialize out of the air. Suddenly, a thought flashed into his mind, and he sheathed his blades, leaping out towards the sea. His aura brightened until it was no longer just a faint lingering, and enveloped his whole body with a blinding, swirling mass of colors. And suddenly, he vanished. It was as if his physical body had left the world entirely, somehow present, but at the same time, distant. Even if the Raiders could sense him, they would not be able to touch him in any normal way, and vice versa.
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Post by Raiders on Dec 18, 2006 1:08:24 GMT -8
The two chanels of flowing miasma suddenly stopped, as if someone had chanted Impetus Imobulus. They were completely confused, in as much as they could muster enough consciousness to be confused. There was suddenly no prey, at least none they could detect. Slowly, the miasma began to filter back into the sides of the pumice cliffs, not even disappointed that they couldn't feed, just having no reason to be out and about anymore.
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Post by osmosisd on Dec 18, 2006 1:21:06 GMT -8
Looking back through his etherealness, Morgan could see the Raiders returning to their threshold, and he floated out back over the cliff again, to drift down towards the lower masses of land.
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Post by Swan Hunter NPC on Dec 18, 2006 1:23:30 GMT -8
Coming from Lac des Cygnes, the Swan Hunter had seen a sudden flurry of activity near Raider Cliffs. Shaking his head, he whistled sharply to the other person he was patrolling with, and together they went to see if there would be anything left of the fool who dared to enter that territory. It wasn't time for the annual Fall Hunt yet, but there was always some fool Hatchling who thought he'd get some practice in before the official hunt. Making a beeline for the cliffs, they came within safe view, and were surprised to see nothing...the Raiders looked as though their prey had either already been consumed (whole, by the lack of remains), or it had escaped them. Either way, they were going back inside their cliff. The two Hunters knew better than to assume anything, so they stayed put, waiting for signs of life.
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Post by osmosisd on Dec 18, 2006 1:27:06 GMT -8
Two figures down in the trees... Humanoid, winged... Angels, he thought? Perhaps they were, but he had no way of telling. Sweeping down to ground level, he hovered just below them, the shot up a few feet and materialized, grabbing onto the nearest sturdy limb that had no chance of shifting. While he wasn't in the best position to give a formal greeting, he tried to materialize slowly, as to not frighten them too much. Giving a mild smile, he hung there blankly.
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Post by Swan Hunter NPC on Dec 18, 2006 1:44:52 GMT -8
They looked at each other and drew their bows, nocking their Jet arrows. "State your name, stranger," said the one, while the other prepared to whisper it and fire his arrow strategically. You don't do that sort of fancy materializing around Swans if you valued your health. For all they knew, this was but another minion of evil come gallavanting through some portal.
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