[Location] Vortex Park

[Opelya Kitrye'veresi]

OOC: sorry it took me so long, and sorry if this sucks I am just not feeling all that well right now.

IC: She got up slowly from her perch at the edge of the pool. She looked scared, her eyes wide like that of a childs. But she went anyway fighting the temptation to stay where she was. Close to him now and under his coat she felt safer. "Plynn uns'aa jabbuk, Usstan orn flohlu vel'klar dos lead." She said softly into the folds of his shirt, for her face was pressed against his shoulder. Fighting yet another wave of emotion she didn't think she possessed anymore. She wrapped her arms around the stranger, still very much like a child seeking comfort in a storm."Xun naut chi' ussta khaless lu' Usstan orn xun whatever dos joros." She said looking up at his face.

OOC: some of the translations don't come out right all the time. When she says Plynn she means Take not Seize.

[Heikou]

The man nodded, keeping silent. He peered into her eyes once more and lead her out of the park, warming her with his touch.

He lead her to a path in between two trees. They walked for a few minutes before coming to a hoarse, tied to a tree. The man untied his steed and helped Opelya onto its back. He then climbed upon it as well.

Giving a quick squeeze the two were off. They rode through the streets of vortex. The moon shone overhead. The breeze blew their clothes and their hair behind them.

They rode through the streets and stopped at an inn. They tied the hoarse up within the stables. He got off and then assisted her. "doer xuil uns'aa. Unless dos orn'la ssinssrin ulu zexen'uma ghil?"

OOC:It's perfectly fine. RL takes priority. Don't worry. Could you please start a new thread and then PM me a link. I don't want to clutter up this thread if the two characters aren't there.

[Querslis Vuerslin]

Querslis walked out to the park, and walked around finding her thoughts. She really wished that she could find a male Vysse that she could relate to. Down in Har'oloth she was known by the men, and they never treated her like a female. She had been taken advantage of by many of them, and that is why she had her faith fill her heart, but she wished she could find a man that shared her faith. She came to the large, shallow round pool, and there she spoke her thoughts of a man.
Usstan daewl Usstan gumash ragar natha jaluk Vysse nindel onhire Jalat, foluss nindel Usstan shlu'ta telanth ulu bauth ussta eluith'orth, foluss vel'uss Usstan shlu'ta revive ussta qu'ellar xuil. Uk shlu'ta tlu verin, bwael, noalith, 'zil verve 'zil uk treats uns'aa bwael. Natha jaluk nindel orn tlu loyal ulu uns'aa, lu' xxizz uns'aa areion ussta dro. Jalat, qualla xxizz uns'aa ragar uns'aa natha m'ranndii nindel orn z'hin tu'suul uns'aa wun eluith'orth 'zil al 'zil wun dro. Usstan verve whol companionship, tangis' though Usstan zhaun jalukul ph' d' nau kleel, Usstan zhaun nindel nind sila conamori... she said as she closed her eyes. She didn't know whether Jalat would be listening, but she had he faith. She stood there with her hands clasped together, and prayed...

[Akallabeth]

It was almost a placid scene, the Vysstichi speaking in that dark tongue, her voice softly caressing the pool of the waters as she prayed alone that night. Were it not perhaps for the meaning of her prayer or to whom she prayed, most people in the Empire would have found the request endearing. But this was Vortex, not most of the Empire, and in these places darker spirits dwelt and those of black hearts were the norm. And here, even such gods of Aeternia might listen, and the scales of chance and fate might be tipped in the balance.

"Tlu kyone vel'bol dos daewl whol, olath uss. Natha senger d' Aeternia 'udtila naut shar'tleg ukt har ssussunel ulu fridj jala wanre." A soft voice came from out of the darkness, soft and shadowy. But perhaps to her prayer's answer in part, she had found a male to speak with. But the source of the voice was nowhere to be seen in the park, no trace of another's presence nearby. "Xal dos xal tangis' kla'ath Jalat alur ka dos zhahen fris ulu ukta." The voice came again, a soft chuckle seeming to come from about her, short as it was.

[Querslis Vuerslin]

A l' klew'ar Usstan tlun naut stre ulu el, drill Jalat uriu alur kl'aen d' uns'aa pholor nindol zik'den'vever. Usstan zhal naut kla'ath ukta pholor ukt Barge d' Streea fridj quin. Usstan tlun natha sel Yathrin d'lil eluith'orth, lu' Usstan kestal ulu sila l' lodias d' Jalat's following ul'naus harl uss ventash'ma, whether nindel tlu uns'aa xor foluss else, nindel zhah whol Jalat ulu decide. Ussta kaas zhah Yathrin Querslis Q'Hondar d'lil fallen qu'ellar d' Q'Hondar. Vel'uss xal l' cielra jaluk ssivah wund'akh ulu? Querslis spoke as she carefully looked around trying to find an outline of the figure that was speaking to her. He must be trained in Necromancy, I always wanted to train in death's aracane. Although that will come sooner or later, and for now I am interested in someone to talk to. Orn'la dos tlu willing ulu valm uns'aa wun talthalra ussta senger, whol ka dos ssinssrin ulu kus uns'aa ulu ukta, Usstan xal 'zil al sila natha or'shanse reztorm. Usstan tlun naut stre d' streea, p'wal Usstan kla'ath streea. Orn'la dos saph ulu morfeth dosstan visible ulu l' sol, xor ka dos xuat nindel zhah ula ichl...

[Akallabeth]

OOC: Just a note, I think we're not allowed to use the resources of the Grey Company, as their language and such is based on Tolkien. I used it again this time, but its a bit troublesome to keep translating back and forth, which is problematic for coordinating things.

IC:

"Ah, seke elam'aph ulu Jalat." The voice spoke again, smooth and resonating, shifting and flowing. She barely heard a soft rustle of cloth before his voice came again. "Lu' natha seke Vysstichi jalil, 'zil Usstan inbalus ssiggrin." Again came the soft chuckle, though it stopped afer but a moment. There was a poignant pause then, before she heard from this mysterious person who had yet to reveal himself in any sort of presence before her.

"Unfortunately I bear no zealousness for Jalat, though I do suppose I serve his desires well at times" He shifted then to the Common tongue, though there was perhaps a slight accent of the dark elven tongue upon it. "I indeed have no wish to become a plaything among you and your ilk, vysstichi lady. Though your prayer is indeed quite interesting. Desperate perhaps, asking the Lord of Death for a mate?"

[Querslis Vuerslin]

The lord of Death has many purposes to a true believer. I wish to raise my fallen house from the rubble, and reclaim my family honor. The House of Death might rise, and other houses will fall, but in the end I am not going to be the one falling. I have given my life for Jalat, and I will serve him in life and death. Is it possible to assume that you are very good at stealth, that is something that I wish very much to learn sooner or later. Anyways, what is your name? I believe that it is only curtious to atleast present a name. Querslis said as she continued to slightly turn and look around her. She wasn't feeling at all uneasy, because she knew Jalat would happily accept her if it was her time. She then turned to the dark pool of water, and stared into it. She became focused on the reflection in water, and concentrated on sounds. She hoped that maybe this person would finally show himself.

[Johan Riketz]

He took this detour often when he was a troublesome child, mistaken for a girl countless times. His calm demeanor of confusion often revealed a naive innocence and without the deeply rooted hatred and foul taint of an average Vysstichi's racial ethics, he was born to be an outcast. This night was especially vibrant and he took in visible figures. He didn't bother to inspect, remaining several yards away, his face hidden deep beneath the cowl of a crimson velvet hood. He found his destination in the park and proceeded to his training, paying the others no mind. It was evident that his mind remained elsewhere, his conscience heavy, the burden weighing him as much physically it seemed as it did emotionally.

He chuckled, a tinge of irony exposing itself, Johan thinking his troubles minor, knowing they would only plunge him deeper into despair..........and only found them harder to push away. His lavender pupils shimmered ominously beneath a receding hood, his hand pulling back the hood enough to reveal smirking lips, pearly teeth gleaming a deathly white beneath. His cynical outlooks on life as well as pessimistic views of other individuals would take him soon........maybe being alone would worsen his situation, but he couldn't collect his thoughts and found the disorder rather disheartening. Chaos was present, and Johan.........thought the struggle a beautiful thing, rational logic making it's appearance scarcely these days, the damage would be irrepairable.........he was changing to better suit the chaotic-evil alignment.

He listened, unintentionally, the words of Querslis catching his concentration as he brought his blade to bear, his movements smooth as he held the bastard sword out in front of him. Reviving a dead house........much of his idea, but he was sure his views and outlooks HAD to be different. He was always different, singled out, his heart not completely tainted as was the common Vysstichi stereotype. Johan shook his head as he chuckled, taking a finger behind the clasp of his cloak as he shrugged away the visions of granduer and common foolery. "Heh, how foolish of me......"

[Akallabeth]

Querslis & Johan

Querslis was, if anything, quite the Jalatine. Death it seemed, did not seem to phase her in the least. Of course, she was a follower of the Lord of Death himself. The shadowy figure chuckled softly, beyond sight and hearing of Querslis. He found this quite amusing indeed. Then an errant noise caught the shadow's attention, as someone drew near. He changed his position as well as he could, drawing the shadows around him as inconspicously as he could.

After he had done so, he saw the arrival of Johan not far from Querslis. The shadow spoke softly, his voice coming from over Querslis' shoulder. "It appears we have company, Follower of Jalat." This was said simply, a hint of amusement in the voice. If anything, the arrival of this newcomer would prove interesting, he hoped.

"Serale, Vysstichi." A disembodied voice spoke, the sounds coming from about Johan with no distinct source. He could see Querslis, and he had heard HER voice. This was not hers, that was for certain, but had come from someone else. "What brings you here, this night?" The voice came again, just enough for Johan to hear.

[Amber Brightwing]

Brightening 8 of the Second Cycle of The Month of Cryxatum in the Season of Spring
Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIII Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening

Amber was sitting in the top of a willow tree, enjoying the little warmth the two remaining suns were giving on this early spring day. Sometimes she just liked to sit in the park and enjoy the nature around her for a bit. Even though it was all very artificial, it was still better then the grey and dull stone of the city’s housing.

But that’s not what she had come to the park today. A few weeks ago she had been reflecting on what she knew so far of Necromancy, and she had elaborated a bit further on the Fright spell in her mind. Well, perhaps not as much on the spell itself, but more on what fear did to a being. Fear – although artificial when created by a necromancer – was a very natural thing. It’s even a primary survival mechanism, giving heightened senses and sharpened muscles to aid in flight or to make a last stand when driven into a corner. After all, scared animals always ran the fastest when scared away and driving them into a corner could be a dangerous thing.

The thing she had been wondering about is whether the artificial fear did the same and, more importantly, whether it would be possible to separate the positive things, such as heightened senses, from the negative ones, such as acting without thinking or just running away. There was of course only one way to find that out and that was testing it.

She had thought for a moment on finding some test subject, but she had abandoned the idea as it brought too many complications and it would be hard to determine how effective everything was. That’s why she indented on using herself as a test subject. The Fright spell was pretty harmless after all, doing no more then scaring the subject. Just to be sure she had tested it thoroughly and perfected her casting of it in the last few days by scaring Blood Alley Gang members away from the White Night’s Drink. After all, there was no reason why she couldn’t do useful (and fun) things while practicing.

First she would try out the spell on herself once, unchanged, so she had something to compare her following casting to. Then she’d try and alter it bit by bit by using the Reshape Mana technique, until she eventually reached the desired effect. So she started with Meditating, and so going further into the spell creation process until she created the Fright spell as she had done many times before now.

When she finally cast it on herself, fear struck. She had been prepared to be afraid, but not like this. She knew it was just a spell, since she had been the one to cast it and she could feel it inside her, but she had to use every bit of her concentration to resist fleeing from where she was sitting and hide some place. When the effects finally faded away she still sat there for a moment – panting heavily and her hands starting to hurt form grabbing the branch she was sitting on too hard – she was seriously reconsidering attempting further development.

But as she managed to further calm down herself, those thoughts were quickly driven away. She wasn’t about to give up that easily. She was going to show how tough she was and in the worst case, she’d be finding out if one could build up a resistance against mind affecting spells. So she started Meditating again and going further into the spell creation process until she had her mana and could start shaping. Again she would be using Divination to plant feelings of fear and terror into the mind, but this time it would be Altered to lessen the strength of said feelings, hopefully without any effects the positive parts so far.

[Dicemonk]

As the spell twisted and writhed in the shadows of Amber's mind, coming ever nearer to perfection and completion, the children of Vortex -those who dared go out- continued on in their games over the newly sprouted grasses. Fear, being almost an inherent part of the essence of death itself, it seemed almost natural to every necromancer and yet still alien to the part which was still a simple mortal mind. No one would ever be immune to the effects of fear, but there was always the possibility that one could at least become accustomed to the natural feelings which accompanied it, thereby lessening the general effects on the minds itself. Just as a seasoned ranger could face a hell bear with a grim smile, mostly as a result of his knowings obtained from previous encounters, perhaps one who had enough experience with actual fear, or even the fear thereof would be able to remain logical in the face of it.

When completion had been achieved and the spell released, it immediately manifested itself in her physical and mental being. Though it was obvious that this was the same feeling she had just experienced, this sensation was most certainly less terrible than the initial casting. Rather than a mind wrenching desire to fly off and hide in a deep, dark corner, she now felt just the slightest prickle slide up her spine and out across her skin. The paranoia of irrational fear still offered up delusions but they were kept to a minimum and only the sharpest noises or quickest of movements caught her attention. It was apparent that her tinkering had been effective.

[Amber Brightwing]

Her eyes darted from one playing child trying not to miss a single movement any of them made and her ears registering all sounds they made. From the corner of her eye she noticed the branches of the tree waving and she could feel the soft breeze that was responsible for it. She felt completely ready for the evil that would, no, the evil that might befall her.

As the spell took effect, the Fae was very pleased with herself. To say the results were satisfying was an understatement. There was still some room for improvement of course, optimizing the balance between negative and positive effects, but she had suspected that multiple tries would have been needed from the beginning. Time was something she had enough. Over the next few days she would experiment with it a bit more and see how far she got. She doubted it would be possible to completely get rid of the fear, but least it hadn’t become a complete failure.


OOC:

Sense of Fear

An alteration of the Fright spell where the feelings terror and the urge to flee, implanted by Divination, are minimized, but without lessening the heightened senses and sharpened muscles that usually accompany fear. The irrational fear is still present but it has a minimal influence on the targets rational thinking, especially if the target is accustomed to the feeling.


1 experience point in necromancy approved!

[Esuvian Albers]

Brightening 13 of Cryxatum, Spring of Era XIII PF (before applying at firegem's)

Esuvian walked down the narrow paths of the Vortex park. He had a slightly annoyed look on his face, as the birds wouldn't stop chirping. repetitive noises were one thing he hated about nature. He couldn't stand it. In his annoyance he left his attention of the path. "yeoch!" He yelled as he tripped over a loose stone. He pulled up his pant leg where pain surged from. "ow" he whispered upon seeing the small gash on his leg. He pulled off a small strip of cloth from his shirt. I'm going to have to go tho the tailor later he realized. He tied a rather bad knot over the bleeding woud. Upon inspecting his handiwork he realized he could use a knot lesson. I'll worry about that later also he thought. He stayed down for a moment. Strange, did the birds stop chirping.

[Halb]

Spring, Era Thirteen, PF. Nighttime.

Tremors. Little vibrations running through the ground at consistant intervals. Footsteps.

But such footsteps they must be!

The little tremors slowly made their way to their destination. And their creator came into view in front of the lonely Vortex Park.

A beast, a lonely monster. An outcast of every world. He did not speak, but he knew his name was Halb. Cold and dim eyes stared with a hostile intent at the world before them. Dark brown skin was drawn taut over his muscular frame. And his size! His incredible size!

Three times any other man he stood, Halb the giant. Body built like a rock. His eyes were burning now, some hidden rage had awakened. Confusion reigned over him.

He was angry.

Taking a few mammoth steps he quickly closed the distance between him and the pool. Seeking meaning upon it's glassy surface. He peered at it.

The fire dulled for a moment as he gazed upon his own serendipitous reflection. His hand reached out to grasp this new kindred he spied in the depths of the pool.

His fingers brushed the surface gently, delivering a quick and cold shock. He withdrew involuntarily. "Blah!" He exclaimed, fire rekindling in his eyes, the pool had decieved him.

A massive fist slammed into the water's gentle surface, upsetting its soft repose and displacing the liquid, his reflection shattered, and he stood, satisfied. Briefly triumphant.

[Skylar D'ain]

Skylar D'ain traversed the filthy streets of Vortex with an air of accomplishment, unjustified though it may be, and a flask of the harshest liquor he could afford. The sweet poison did swirl about the container as he found his way through the metropolis, ultimately stumbling upon the park, which seemed as out of place in Vortex as D'ain himself. Yet such seclusion welcomed the elf with open arms, and without fear did he walk the trail, until he was lost in the willows, and gone from sight.

There were benches littered about, yet the elf was now on official business, and hated even to spare what little time he here intended. However, to forego this passage would have been a grave transgression, and perhaps the dim blaze that he hoped now to fan to an inferno would have been extinguished once and for all. For Sindilia D'ain, he would not risk this.

So lost in his silent reveries was the lush that he had not initially noticed the behemoth before him. He stopped where he stood, and surveyed the area. He certainly wanted no quarrel with such a creature, least of all in foliage such that it might conceal his untimely death. However, for the first time in an eternity, Skylar was in high spirits, and truth be told, he feared nothing. His motivation was absolute. The drunk approached the pool, and as such, the giant as well.

A pleasant nod was the only communication with the hulking figure, a slight smile stretched across his lips. Staring into that pool did so mesmerize the elf, it lightened his burdens almost instantaneously. To see the same face -- the smile that he knew his mother would still love -- was all the assurance the surviving son needed that he was in fact the same man. "Skylar D'ain..." he muttered to himself, staring intently at his own reflection, to which he raised a hand, to signify a greeting or goodbye. And with that, the elf unfastened the liquor he'd only just purchased, and poured its full contents into the pool, sending ripples throughout, knowing full well that when it settled once again, he would be whole.