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| Moonlight's Demise; My current, working project | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2007, 05:52 PM (157 Views) | |
| Post #1 May 7 2007, 05:52 PM | Grunt_of_War |
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Moonlight's Demise By: Ryan Whitley Prologue: Aura of Vengeance Darkness... The air was so rotten...so cold...almost like death itself... My eyes give the impression that they are open, yet light is almost nonexistent, for they only rest upon unpiercible blankets dressed in a shroud of eventless twilight. I see absolutely nothing. Feel nothing. Sense nothing. Yet I do not feel alone... ----------------------- Within the black abyss, a blended shadow blindly sits up slowly with hesitation. Nothing can be seen, heard, or sensed in any form only that it knows something is there. Yet the shade seems to care very little. An unfamiliar surface can be felt underneath, but it is very cold and unwelcoming. It was almost like a hardened mesh of Styrofoam packed down inside an infinitely darkened ice cap, knowing no borders. In truth, however, it seemed almost indescribable…but that soon changed, for it was not alone for very long. Out of the layers of black depths, a shimmer of lavender light could be made out like a narrow ripple. The shadow locked its eyes towards the odd iridescence, and did so for what seemed to be ages. Its movements were foreign yet flawless, never repeating an exact movement more than once. Yet it did not keep this up forever. The light began to slowly move ever closer to the shadow. "My..." a sudden voice replied. The vocal patterns of the sound were very low in audacity, and appeared to originate from the calm, chilling light that continued its trek towards the shade. "This is what you are reduced to." It gave an odd reaction, attempting to speak, but to no avail. The voice continued, a bit louder than before. "It seems curiosity got the best of you, just like what many of your kind tend to do. Of course, you cannot be blamed. Your race is full of flaws; impurities. But your reckless actions shall soon be paid off, little one.” As the voice's temporary silence took over again, the rift began to grow, and the shadow's eyes widened. The beacon of energy, however, did little to illuminate the rest of the darkness. "You have severely disappointed me. I was hoping you would...be more of a challenge, considering the reputation you have within your world. But-," the voice suddenly halted, but an echo of those last words could be heard distinctly through the air. The light was finally a mere few feet from the shadowed individual, and from this, the wisp of energy finally widened into a long wall of purplish red light, much like that of a corrupted rainbow, if such were possible. The barrier extended almost infinitely in both directions, and rose as far as they eye could see. Nothing within the black abyss was able to be made out, but within the huge structure of darkened, rippling light, a large wasteland of fires, extending through many colored tints of red, orange, yellow, black, purple, and many other colors, exploded with unquenchable rage. The center of the grand flames, however, held a huge, horrifying figure of chaos and suffering that expelled a presence that knocked the shadow down unrepentantly to the cold, black surface. After its form was visible, the powerful entity looked to be that of a massive skull, penetrated with three javelins that each, in turn, met at a central spot upon the crown of the forehead. Beading puddles of crimson hung from the eye sockets and jaws, filled with black globes of dark, compressed energy. Not even gravity itself could resist such power. Suddenly, the now booming voice continued, pushing down on the living shadow. "...Your talents will not go to waste with me, I can guarantee that," The powerful entity laughed with great might, even shaking the dark abyss in which they both laid claims in. However, the shadow was not swayed, for it slowly struggled against the god-like aura of darkness that constantly forced it down to the ground. The chaotic deity then commented, "Your struggling is worthless, mortal. Once your stubbornness finally secedes, you will know your place within my legion." Following its last statement, a chilling laughter emerged from the powerful being, yet it was not alone this time. From the burning light that encompassed the entire realm, secluded creatures emerged in swarms, all making their way in circles around the helpless shadow in one fashion or another. Their less audacious yet vicious cries of success littered the realm, and the shade could only watch helplessly as they surrounded it with haste, like a swirling cyclone of vultures ready to feast upon its helpless prey. And then, the world fell silent… ----------------------------------- Chapter One: Conference The icy peaks of Me'nor were quite a sight. Towering above the cloaked figure in splendor, the mountains gleamed of a white metropolis, with large clumps of ice and snow occasionally tumbling down their sides. The sun above undoubtedly assisted in these small, falling sheets of sheer cold, though the powerful star was easily cancelled out by the haunting chill that night brought at the beginning of the twenty-four hour cycle. But the man's destination did not lie upon these majestic peaks, as powerful as they were. The wind that roamed above and beyond the gargantuan hills around the mage seemed nonexistent to the traveler, with only an occasional gust sweeping down from the skies to greet him. Luckily, this proved to be a sign of good news since the valley road proved to bear a harsh coolness all its own. He was only hoping that its location were to be found soon; though he understood the need for secrecy, being late to a meeting wasn’t one of his priorities, especially if he was stuck in this type of environment. His nose had already taken on a very pale color, while his legs and arms shivered, and instinctively huddled together, daring not to part while in this environment. After walking for several hours while watching the rugged, icy steppes around him, Mordek finally spotted an old shack on the left side of the Wingard Highway, and indeed, it looked quite aged. The hut was made of once fine oak, but was now worn and covered in a dark blue mold. The wood was dry to the touch after letting his ungloved hand grace upon its surface, with splintering apparent from strings of the material jutting out beneath the ends of each plank. The outside roof proved to have seen better days, as many of the wooden tiles were either cracked or missing, while others beheld large holes that held traces of ice within the edges of its confines. Frozen vines littered its walls, roof, and the ground around the shack, giving the impression of a plethora of snakes hopelessly trying to ensnare or choke the crude, wooden cottage. The entranceway introduced a polished stone outside that was showing signs of erosion from thawing, crevices and opaque ice blotting out at random. The man was forced to dim his eyes while staring down at a flat rock resting near the doorway, trying to make out the writing inscribed on the stone. It was obvious to Mordek that the language inscribed there was in fact dwarven; their race inhabited the surrounding hills for centuries on end, building underground cities and camps within. Recently, however, competition with the goblins and hobgoblins, the greedy, obsessive creatures they are, forced them out of their homelands. From what he heard, most left toward the human and gnomish cities further away, but a few tried to lead a solitary lifestyle within the valley. It was rather a shame that the race was forced to leave their ancestral homelands; the mage had spent much time with the dwarves in particular in the past, who told seemingly miraculous yet interesting tales in the taverns after drinking to their heart’s content. He had also met a number of gnomish and dwarven spell casters and sages along his travels, and proved to be fine folk with a knack at humor and technical prowess. But after reading the tablet, he stepped back a little as the words appeared in his mind: 'Rest in Peace'. If this had been a living quarters, it must be a memorial now. Shaking his head, Mordek entered the run-down shelter, shutting the icy door behind him with difficulty. It gave the sound of thick ice shaving as he opened and closed the door, small shards of it brushing onto the floorboard from his attempts. Within, nothing remained inside that was of any value aside from a few winter rats fleeing from the man’s presence. But regardless, it was too dim to make out and view anything ten feet in front of him at all. Giving a lazy sigh, the human brought his chilled hands out of his cloak and elegantly took out a gnarled staff made of a fine, magic-imbued wood that was strapped to his back. The weapon stood a good seven feet from top to bottom, with the lower end finished with a metal tip engraved in magical writings. The opposite side, however, branched off with wood and bronze combined in a random, almost spherical web extending eight inches from the source to where they inevitably met. Within the crystal-like structure, the thick, metal strings all intersected at the center, supporting a beautifully finished crystal of transparency, which, in turn, housed an essence of magical energy. The cloaked figure waved his palm in front of it and the living, visible winds began twisting inside like an eternal cyclone. The mage smiled as a brilliant, green light flickered from the output, its powerful aura enhancing the view of the features within the worn building. But alas, the man found nothing even comparable to what he was looking for in the surrounding perimeter, but luckily Mordek knew where to look. After crossing a few small rooms and crossing a couple walkways, the mage met a bare, white wall, opposite of the unpainted, wooden walls common throughout the rest of the shelter. With a sleight of hand, the mage swiftly drew a strange, copper flute with indentions of a lion, an eagle, and a crocodile from a small, hidden pocket in the lining of his robes, though a shallow gash could be seen imprinted near one of the blowholes. Dust filled the inside like a shallow blanket from little use, but Mordek paid no mind. Again, the mage stared at the wall, and took in a deep breath. All of a sudden, his lips made contact with the instrument’s mouthpiece, blowing in rhythm with the tune. Manipulated by the motions of his individual fingers, it formed an eerie, original tune that would almost be impossible to form from any instrument of similar form. But as the song played, the sounds of wildlife that dominated the surrounding landscape outside halted their nocturnal rhythm. The owls ceased their persistently deep echoes; the crickets halted their soothing melody of clicks and whistles; the howling of the coyotes and wolves became nonexistent, which all gave an unnatural silence as the man played. The echoes of the song tingled down Mordek's spine, giving even him an unsatisfying chill, but the mage still continued to blow. After several seconds of playing, the cloaked man's mouth receded from the flute, and then placed the instrument within its respective pocket as if it were routine. Immediately, he took a large step back on instinct as the house began to rattle and shake. It was as if an earthquake was impeding upon him, into his particular room, but the mage's feet stayed put after he realized what was to happen. The man kept an emotionless face despite the coolness of the wind and the constant rattling of the house. But finally, the center of the wall edged back from the rest of the barrier, about two centimeters away, before slowly creeping down into the surface accompanied with the sound of scratching stone. After it had sunk into the floor, a short, narrow doorway lead into a dark chamber, its distance not able to be judged due to the lack of light intruding into the tunnel. Creating a powerful grasp upon his faithful staff, its glow still lingering upon the room, Mordek took several paces forward and finally stepped onto the descending staircase. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mordek's first tread into the dark staircase was followed by another, continuing the pattern down cautiously. He wasn't exactly sure how reliable the tunnels were, considering how rough and rusted the green-lit stone was. The walls, ceiling, and steps themselves were only far enough apart to allow a creature slightly larger than himself to pass through, and it gave the mage the very uncomfortable feeling of being cramped. Alongside that, an unpleasing smell filled Mordek's nostrils, similar to the aroma of rotting egg mixed with the stench of skunk urine. His nose flared from the powerful aroma, seeming to grow stronger the further he descended. Eventually, the mage held the arm of his cloak up near his face to block the unstoppable smell. With his other hand, Mordek continually brushed the fixated rocks upon which the tunnels were erected. Unlike the valley above, humidity laid claim here in huge amounts, with clouded water dripping from the walls and ceiling. It was almost as if he was in the Ash Caves; the temperature and humidity was definitely comparable between the two. 'At least it is warmer down here than up on Wingard,' the mage thought. Finally, after a few minutes of walking down the circular staircase, Mordek eventually set foot within a rectangular room made of the same stone that was found in the stairway. The ceiling had lifted a few feet, which gave him great relief while exporting a humble sigh. However, the room was approximately only a quarter the size of the cottage above, giving little room to move around. The floor was completely bare; only small chips of rock and drips of water rested upon the aged surface on which the mage walked. His staff, still lit, also gave sight to a single torch on which no flame burned, yet it looked almost brand new. Taking a few curious steps, Mordek's dark green eyes peered through his long, brown cloak, his vision focused upon the item. Making a firm grasp on the staff's base, he shifted the crystallized end toward the unlit torch. But, as the essence neared the inanimate object, it suddenly acted as if it had a mind of its own. Surging from the cloud within the crystal, a small ring of pulses was conjured around the tip of the staff, surrounding it with a more brilliant green light. They lashed out over and over, like an enraged bull constrained by an indestructible chain. It was a mystifying experience, but it soon died out as the coils finally reached their destination, setting the crude torch hanging on the wall aflame with green fire, followed soon after by the overtaking of normal, orange flames. It amazed Mordek about how the crystal's former bearer handled such impressive power, caused by a seemingly independent form of magic. The arcane had given a new perspective to the young spell caster, but this staff had given him more surprises than he could count. As the fire burned, the torch slowly incinerated from the new flame; it was similar to a diminutive wildfire, overtaking the wooden torch with persistent ease. The remaining ash had fallen to the ground in an uneven pile, while the flame itself levitated in the shape of the burnt torch. Yet it did not halt its burning despite a source to feed upon. The narrow cone of immense heat soon began to drop, taking its time with no regret, until the flame ceased its fall and began hovering a mere few inches above the soot and ash, seeming to be caused by its own independent will. It constantly renewed itself for every second the small flame existed, yet it just floated there like a natural fire. Immediately, Mordek remembered what he was asked to do at this stage. Recalling the words upon which he needed to speak, they appeared from the man's lips in turn. It was difficult for him to voice it properly, since they were not meant for human vocal systems, but he did well enough to allow the spell to function. As the flame immediately began to hover closer to the wall after he finished chanting, he felt at times that it was similar to a short series of gentle hopping than the former. At the last second, Mordek stood petrified as the small flame suddenly burst into a blazing inferno that slowly expanded at first, but then grew larger with haste. The mystifying bringer of heat engulfed the wall completely, the searing fires almost taking over the mage's body if he hadn't backed away in time. Sweat incessantly beaded down his face as the flames within the middle began to change tint, from orange to black, to purple, then returning to green. Yet, it did so continuously, and the effect expanded over the carpet of fire. It was an amazing display of magics that most mages only dreamed of witnessing, no less wielding. Finally, after several seconds, odd symbols appeared as gaps within the fire, revealing individual shapes, lines, and symbols for him to observe, though he was puzzled as to what they meant. Their unique layout looked to be ancient hieroglyphics or perhaps an ancient form of magical writing he had not personally studied yet, but that was up to speculation; more common forms of writing were still always possible. After all, no one could expect a single being to be able to read every language fluently. But afterwards, the magical fires eradicated from existence, leaving the wall completely open to step through. Conjuring a simple detection of magic spell in the form of a simple white glyph in the air, he noted that it was safe to pass through, and continued onward through the passageway. A long hallway appeared as the mage's eyes observed what was to lie ahead. Wooden torches, similar to the one he viewed before, were lit within, illuminating the path well enough to see at least semi-clearly. With a short flick of his wrist, he negated the spell that had been emitting light from his staff, dwindling back to a normal state. After installing his rod back to the strap on his back, Mordek made his way through the stone-embedded hallway to a small doorway, though it was still large enough for him to walk through. He silently approached, not sure about what he was going to witness. But as he peered in, the mage stared in awe. Inside the large chamber, Mordek viewed a large, silver table shaped like a star, six arms stretching out elegantly. Red and gold tapestries embedded with silk lined the perimeter of the chamber, twisting and turning flawlessly in a way that rivaled those of royalty. The five Oakwood chairs themselves beckoned notice as furnished bronze outlined every line and corner set upon each seat, sitting on four thin, graceful legs ending in hardened copper. The seats aligned specifically with the table's height, and the back rests stood four-and-a-half feet above where the seat ended, crafted also of red-dyed fabrics. The room's floor, ceiling, and walls heavily contrasted with the chambers before it, formed out of huge, polished stones that reflected the light from the torches flawlessly, while the underground roof was supported by horizontal logs of thick wood. On the left, a fireplace indented within the wall burned of a green flame, adding to the heat and light of the room significantly. Oddly enough, however, the flames had no source to feed upon...which by now did not surprise Mordek, but still gave fascination to the mortal soul. To the right, a small cabinet of metal shelves lined the center of the wall, with rusty trinkets, bottles, vials, scrolls, staves, wands, and other magical objects lined neatly upon them. As the mage finally stepped foot into the room, three strange pillars of odorless smoke appeared on the three respective walls ahead of him, from which a trio of different figures approached without warning. Mordek was about to ready his staff for combat, but as their faces appeared one by one within the room he suddenly relaxed and gave a weak smile. The shortest one, standing no more than three feet tall, gave a slight giggle of high pitch, while the tallest figure, with a slim figure that stood an inch above the mage himself, nodded at Mordek with a weak smile. In contrast, however, the middle-sized figure, though only precisely four-and-a-half feet tall, but having a sturdy build, approached with a straight comment. “About time ye got here, Master Wevern." ----- Apparently, the mage didn't miss much of the meeting despite being late, for they began with a standard ritual of their findings over the past year. It wasn't anything of high importance; just a general discussion about local events relating to their respective race and nation. Deidra, who was quite a chipper yet bright gnome, spoke of the newest Gnomish inventions, given names that Mordek could only attempt to speak properly, ranging from Torbench Incelligabors to the ever fruitful Gags-O'-Plenty. He never found any real reason for such technology, because they were either useless or already accomplishable with current mechanisms or magic. Still, no one could argue with the gnomes' desire to spread their ideas through the common household. Their minds are arguably hard to be swayed. The human didn't find anything odd about the female illusionist for her race. She seemed ridiculously short and had a somewhat diminutive body in relation to the size of her head. Regardless, her skin was light and unbroken, like that of a toddler, but such was often rather deceptive. Though he had never seen her fight, it was safe to assume from other gnomes he had witnessed that she was quite nimble and intelligent, two qualities that could be rather deadly when used in conjunction regardless of size. Her robes hanged down to her ankles in a cloak of radiant lavender, with a design of a checkerboard outlining across the top of the costume in a gold tint. Her weapon was a dagger sheathed at her side, probably imbued with some sort of magical properties if she was really that intent on using the smaller, combat-oriented weapon than the mage-friendly staff or wand. Meanwhile, the robust dwarf Rodrek lectured upon recent findings within the Marshes of Mekk, finding large deposits of iron and silver long since buried beneath the groggy-like soil that dominated the landscape. It was quite a phenomenal discovery from the way he described it, suggesting that it would be of great use for building weapons and trading with the gnomes for some well-needed currency. It had been at least a decade since his people had struck a find this big, and things were beginning to pick up after their disastrous conflict with the Dreld, also titled Dark Elves by many, just twelve years beforehand. He wasn't very typical in looks for a normal dwarf in Mordek's opinion. He had the typical height of a member of his own race, but his skin was much darker in color, almost as if in a light shade of black. One of his eyes remained pupiless with a scar that stretched horizontally across his face, just barely cut short from reaching the good eye. He didn't wear robes, but a dark shade of leather that encompassed the majority of his body. The human wasn't exactly sure how he could manage to make his spells successful the majority of the time with that kind of restricting armor, but it was merely speculation on his part. Again, he had never seen the dwarf fight. His weapon was a large maul mounted on his back, which looked rather encumbering to wield properly or even carry from observation. Its five foot handle was a dirty silver color that contained a repeating cast of runes and symbols foreign to the younger Mordek, though from the way it was written, it looked either dwarvish or perhaps gnomish. The large, blunt end was most impressive, however, crafted out of a white metal and engraved with solid, recognizable grooves that spanned from the end to where it met the handle. Though quite impressive, the human still favored his own worn staff, given to him by his former mentor years ago. Soon after, it was finally Mordek's turn to tell his report. It was rather difficult to tell, though, considering that of all the races, humans differ the most in personality, motives, and the like. Generally, there were angels on one side, while there were devils and demons on the other spectrum. Several million others stood in-between in an undisputed loop of both law and chaos, unsure of their position in the world they live in whether they believed in such or not. It showed how easily mortals could sway between either side, whether it be greed, or perhaps even the thought of living another day. The human wizard's explanation contained equally mundane events: the continued reconstruction of the kingdom of Wingard, which had suffered great casualty from the Dark Elven conflict as well, and how the king was funding the Church to aid in the replacement of much needed city guards, which they took in rather happily. Mordek wasn't all too content with the decision, however. The warriors of the Light, regardless of who it usually was, looked down upon the rarities of the Arcane and science alike for its untold power as a still relatively unexplored form, and its capability to discredit their beliefs respectively. After feeling content with giving his mundane news, the elven wizard presumed his own report, standing up without even brushing against the chair he was sitting in just before. His grey eyes beamed around the room, as if watching for something to occur, but then he closed his eyes and revealed a sigh. His swift movement did little to disturb his robes, draping over his form in a tint of deep green. His hair grew a silky white from birthright rather than age that seemed to fall like water down to the center of his back, his pointy ears emerging out both sides like a minor obstruction to the flow of hair. He took a step to the side, almost as gentle as that of a small mammal, and his feet were graced with simple shoes that matched his robes. Nonetheless, his presence was benign yet strikingly powerful, hanging over the room like carpet. Strangely enough, he carried no weapon at all, or at least none seen, but his presence alone could make one tremble in fear if they didn't know his allegiances. The other three mages stood as well, including Mordek, and took a shallow bow of their heads as arguably the most powerful and talented mage in the entire realm was about to speak... ====== Copyright @ 2006. |
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The Hamburger of Death
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| Post #2 May 31 2007, 12:14 PM | Grunt_of_War |
| There, Chapter One is finished. Woot, finally! |
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The Hamburger of Death
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| Post #3 May 31 2007, 06:43 PM | Flak |
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'Woot!' Indeed. As mentioned before, I shall Critisize the Text as soon as I can. |
Bag 'em and Tag 'em!
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![]() -I thank Seeds for this Banner. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- RPing Information: Legend by Crimson Knight. ------ Status: Mostly Malevolent. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- | |
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| Post #4 Jul 1 2007, 11:18 AM | Grunt_of_War |
| After allowing my family to read this, along with Flak, I got advice from all of them and edited this heavily. Hopefully it should now be easier to read and understand now. Also fixed a moderate amount of grammar mistakes. |
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The Hamburger of Death
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