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| Topic Started: Apr 19 2009, 12:07 AM (84 Views) | |
| Rylianis | Apr 19 2009, 12:07 AM Post #1 |
Lord of the Realm
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The Stalker was not widely known for his singing voice, or anything at all for that matter. It was not his way to be known to many, he was a secret, a suspicion, a one-man conspiracy that nearly all of Avalon could only strain to sense the edges of. Many people would be unsurprised to know that this walking mystery had a fairly ordinary singing voice, and as it echoed through the Temple of Death, the precipice from which Kaliyah, the Goddess of Death, would extend her power into Avalon, it was... rather surreal. Oh... please have some pity, I'm all alone, in search of beauty... I tell you - I'm just a lonesome babe in the woods; Oh lady, be good to me... He smiled, and continued to trod along, taking in the scenery along the way. Two words immediately sprung to mind as he contemplated his surroundings... grand, yet desolate... he smiled at this rather apt description, and admired it further. The goddess who called this temple home was a highly imaginative woman... goddess... deity-thing. He would rather not be so picky, but on the other hand, he had found himself in the lion's den, and he was merely a cub to her power. Thus, mincing his thoughts as well as his words would probably be prudent. Fragments of tiles and rock shifted around his feet as he walked, some fell off the sides of great bridges across bottomless expanses, whilst others simply scattered around, making sharp sounds which echoed around the vastness of the temple. He had not come here with a very specific plan, a plan for who to see, where to see them, what do do here or even where to go. He did, however, come along with a general plan - wander around until something awesome happens. Afterwards, he would hope to impress whatever had come to him with a gift, and to explain the real reason he had come by the temple. As per usual, it was business, but at times like this, where he would travel to disused reliquaries and grandiose places of worship like this, there was definitely an element of the finer pleasures in life. Before him was a large tower, jutting out of the shapeless void beneath the bridge he currently traversed. He did not come with the expectation he was important enough to beg the Goddess Belicose's attention herself, but it sure would be something, to meet the Keeper of Souls, and Mistress of the Final Breath, whom I served in my own way, all these forty-odd years... Indeed, something about his journey reminded him of some sort of pilgrimage. He had silently hoped that, all these years, the blood he had spilled would make its way into the Earth and return to it source, and indeed the ground of this temple felt like it welcomed him, like one of its own. This meeting, hopefully, would be a very important meeting, so he wore his best tunic and robe. He did not come as a representative of his people, and thus divested his person beforehand of anything which indicated his position. A humble creature, an unassuming half-elf, has come here to ask a favour or two. I wonder if the Lady really watches me here... He began to have thoughts of what she looked like, what she felt like, what she sounded like... would it be alien to him, or would her voice sound like the bloodlust in his mind? Would it feel like the muscle memory of a killing blow, or a piercing realisation like a fatal wound? He shook his head out of these imaginings, and resolved that she probably wouldn't meet him anyway. Thus, he stepped inside the spire, having finished the walk across the long bridge, and waited for something to realise that he did not belong in this part of the world. |
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2:57 AM Mar 20
