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| Hunting the Hunter; P: The Suj+One other | |
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| Topic Started: May 23 2009, 07:19 AM (93 Views) | |
| Achar | May 23 2009, 07:19 AM Post #1 |
I'm not insane...just socially hostile.
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Democritus…We know you live. We have felt your soul return from the void. Our forefathers warned of your spiteful spirit and we have been prepared long before your revival. Don’t worry…we will meet soon… The shade snapped awake, a scowl stretched across his face. Achar’s red eyes were alive with fire, that ever elusive anger of his boiling to the surface now. So…it seems they know…Weaseling bunch of do-gooders… For years he had traveled unopposed, a threat to any that crossed his malicious path. Now it would appear as though old enemies arose to do away with the demon spirit once more. Achar peered up from his dark hiding spot. He rested beneath a massive tree, the bottom of the trunk caved in several feet, providing a nice shelter from the rain and the unpleasant sun. In the shadows, he was barely visible, black as night, except for his pale face and the crimson orbs that decorated its eerily handsome features. With a sigh he tucked his chin back down close to his chest, the wide-brimmed hat covering his face and blending him into the shadows once more. The killer wasn’t in the mood to deal with those fools. Once already they had banished his spirit to the void. And now that he had life once more, they planed to do it again. This time he was prepared, however…His former power was returning and he was even close to surpassing it. It seemed like this new body provided him with a great deal more to work with. He would need it to fight of his old enemies. The killer hummed a soft tune, attempting to bring relaxation and do away with that useless emotion known as anger. It did much to cloud one’s judgment, he couldn’t have that. The shade needed his wits about him. They could come at any time and he best be ready. “Druids…always wanting to protect their precious balance…oh yes...They fear me so…” They weren’t just any druids, though. This particular sect had lived whilst he roamed the world in his original form. They were centuries old and accumulated a great deal of wisdom and power over the years. When he faced them, they were a bunch of elves that kept to the large forests of Avalon to the north. What was their name… he thought, the information eluding him for the time. Oh…an annoying bunch to say the least. They hunted him for years for his ruthless killing of several of their brethren. “They surely do know how to hold a grudge…little tree huggers,” he moaned and leaned forward. A pale hand clasped around the tree trunk and pulled himself out of the crevice. Achar stood up with a groan, stretching out his back. The shade tilted his head from side to side, a soft crack echoing from his bones. “Filth…they hunt me…” The shade growled, his temper difficult to quell as he tilted his chin back and caught several scents. He couldn’t be sure if they had already closed in on his location. No time to waste…had to get moving. Achar looked up at the tree-tops. Hard to believe they followed him all the way here…to the Isle of Mist. The forest city of Alyrion rested above. A grin crossed his face…they would have a tad bit more difficulty finding him up there. Perhaps it would give him time to think. The shade darted forward and leapt up, taking a hold of a tree limp with both hands and spun up onto the branch. Next he jumped up onto a higher one…one by one he steadily moved higher into the tree tops, the city looming over head. It took a few minutes but eventually the nimble shade reached Alyrion. Achar found a crevice between tree and the massive wooden frames that held the unusual place up. He slipped up into the town and found himself below the market. Just above rested the wooden planks the formed the ‘road’ of the city. With a chuckle he moved down till he found a way up. The shade ended up in a basement of a shop building, pitch black as night in the lower floor of the building. Few steps alerted the killer to someone coming down stares, a lantern in hand. Silently, Achar slipped through the shadows and up onto the first floor. The building turned out to be a clothing store. With a grin he made his way out the front door without gathering attention. He was met with a market full of people of sorts. The shade slipped off into a neighboring alley, preferring to keep his presence to a minimum. “Now…what shall I do about those meddlers...Those supposed Keepers…” Edited by Achar, May 23 2009, 07:23 AM.
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~Description~ ~Inventory~ ~Theme Song~  The Day The Whole World Went Away "You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses." | |
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| Rylianis | May 23 2009, 10:54 AM Post #2 |
Lord of the Realm
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Amateurs. Every so often, he would find groups of people playing a miniature version of his own game in a particular city. When this happens, a few political groups decide that they want to run the city and that they don't fear authority enough to do it legitimately. They will usually start with the things that ought to come last, such as elaborate initiation rituals and rigid power structures with fancy names for the various ranks. The Stalker usually shunned all this as unnecessary bureaucracy - one person can do all of the organising on his own, if he wants to! You juts have to know who to delegate responsibilities to. This delegation of responsibility was what had brought The Stalker to Alyrion. The trek had not been easy, but contracts by amateurs tend to be either overpaid or underpaid, and this one was frightfully overpaid. His mission was to assassinate what this group called "the leader" of their enemies - a competing political group. In this, he was successful - he had infiltrated their headquarters and poisoned the goblet from which he drank. However, he learned a lot about this particular bunch of people through the intelligence gathered for the mission, and it made him regret having taken on the contract. It would appear that they were highly organised and motivated to achieve their goals, and had the common sense and practical capability to do so. As a testament to the skill of this group, known only as The Den, their leadership did not exist - each man did what he thought was useful to the common philosophy, and groups of men with similar ideas or skills would group together to complete more complicated tasks. The beauty of this form appealed to The Stalker, as did the various members which he talked to. Such a disciplined group of people would eventually become a real power in Avalon, and not one which he wanted to face as an enemy. As such, he decided he would subsume The Den into his own extensive network. As such, after his deed, he returned to The Den, explained that he was the killer, but he was contracted to do so by their competition. Asking what he could do by way of repayment for his act, he was told that nothing was necessary - indeed, they had the wisdom and understanding to realise that, even though Rylianis' hand which placed the poison, it was not his deed. They contracted him for an appropriate sum to wipe out their enemy, and it was for this reason that The Stalker found himself on a secluded hut balanced upon a few branches towards the bottom of Alyrion. He was congratulated for his work in assassinating "the leader" of The Den, given his reward in the form of various precious metals and gemstones, then invited to join their guild. Respectfully, I must decline, as I have business elsewhere - it does not befit The Stalker to join other political associations. By the way, I hope you do realise how ineffectual that action really was... The group, which he knew comprised of the three leaders of their guild, inquired as to why he believed this is the case. Ok, well I'll give you this bit of info for free. They're a circle, not a pyramid. He stepped outside whilst they considered what this meant. In the meantime, The Stalker fired his grappling hook at a nearby tree trunk, and picked up a rope which he had prepared earlier. The guild leaders looked at him in confusion. They have no leader, and as far as they were concerned, up until now your organisation was so aimless and petty that they did not bother to wipe it out. The Den sends their regards, and hopes that you might meet the man you killed in the next life. He pulled upon the rope, which released a thick tree trunk which was suspended by the rope, far above the little hut. As the reality dawned upon them, they looked at him furiously and drew their swords, but they could not have suspected the tree which fell onto the branches supporting the hut and tore them from the tree. He could hear their screams all the way down as the branches, the hut and the leaders of the now-diminished guild careened towards the forest floor. The Stalker, however, was still suspended by his rope, which he then climbed up, and tried to return to the city without causing suspicion. Today is a good day. |
 "All the names of good and evil are parables: they do not declare, but only hint. Whoever among you seeks knowledge of them is a fool!" Friedrich Nietzsche Character Inventory - Character Journal Open RPs: Spoiler: click to toggle Currently Running RPs: Spoiler: click to toggle Previous and Inactive RPs: Spoiler: click to toggle  Used tissues, from Denthúl - Festival 09 Raffle Ticket2009 Raffle Consolation Prize  Albino Mouse A rare albino mouse. Though if there are so many given out as prizes this year, one must wonder why they're dubbed 'rare'. | |
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| Kaono | May 24 2009, 06:14 AM Post #3 |
The Stormbringer
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Ah, the mist had finally settled down, the adventure had taken longer than he expected and in the end... many things happened. Many things that changed the youth and probably will keep him changed as such. Skaren... lost his two brothers in arms, both of them dying in the line of battle all for the sake of him completeing his mission. It, released something inside him. Always has Skaren been a criptic and unreadable fellow... but now the youth has become something more, deeper the mistery goes, hidden behind his own mist. His swordskill had sharpened, and the boy had a feeling he was nearing the peak of his skill. But how long? He was still young only 19 and yet his swordsmenship surpassed the many he has come to face... even the once Demi God whom tore the Isle to shreds all those many years ago. These days however, the boy has yet to return to Avalon, still roaming the Isle and taking in all its sights, making sure that there would be no more twisted Mist beasts roaming about, no more Mist Fangs nor White Shades to worry about. And in the end... this was indeed true, he had learned much of Helraiser and Tempest, as well as the thick cloak that covered his frame. As his rite would continue so would his knowledge of things grow, and soon enough Skaren will be able to return to his people a man, a warrior, and worthy enough to carry the name of Dian di Vakati. With a slight yawn, the cloaked figure roamed the high city nested within the trees... doing nothing other than restocking for his adventure deeper into the forest itself... Leaving the current shop, the boy packed his sack with the cheeses and dried meats he bought, placing the sack back on his back, just over his cloak. And as the boy walked, seemingly completely aware of his sorroundings was taken back by the sudden rattling of the storm blades on his hips. Shaking and humming in their sheathes the youth stopped only to look down, grasping the hilt of Helraiser with his free hand (left hand, left hip.) The sword shocked his fingertips, not out of malice nor dislike of being touched, but it was her way of speaking. Helraiser felt something, Tempest as well... a sister was near by... But where? |
 "Come... Show me what your kind calls fury."-Kaono "If your blade is drawn... then cut."-Kaono }|{Description}|{}|{Theme Song}|{}|{Inventory}|{ PhantomInventory | |
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| Achar | May 24 2009, 06:58 AM Post #4 |
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I'm not insane...just socially hostile.
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The shade was hardly expecting company this day. The only thing he was aware of was the fact that for once he was being hunted. It might take them some time, but those fools would track him down and attempt to send him back there. That wasn’t going to happen…he certainly wouldn’t allow it, even if he had to kill them and any number of people in Alyrion to prevent it. The killer enjoyed his life too much to give it up easily…last time he took those Keepers for granted…this time would be much different. There would be blood…much blood. Achar roamed the alleys for a short time before coming out on a less traveled street. This road seemed home to shadier individuals for which he could hopefully hide in. Achar looked for a place to stay…to relax until they came. However, something was soon to grab his attention. The man’s sword let loose a low humming. Torrent was an old blade; her origins still a mystery to the shade. How she came about acquiring a personality was beyond him, but it was nothing less than a mirror match of his own. The shade reached into his jacket, taking hold of the handle to listen to her feelings. Something akin to the weapon was about. Curious… he thought, ducking off into an alley once more. She told him what she felt was back in the market. With a sigh he started back. This was no time to go looking for foolish things. However, Torrent rarely had a request other than the occasional taste of blood. Within the shadows he stood, looking over the masses. Nothing of interest stood out, his red eyes scanning back and forth. For the time, the old sword stayed quiet, seeming to ‘feel’ for itself. “A waste of time…yes yes…let’s go back and find somewhere to rest,” he told the weapon. It rattled in protest, wishing to keep looking. “There’s nothing here…’ Achar began to turn when his own senses flared. Crimson eyes fell on an odd fellow coming up from behind the shade. He dressed in ordinary clothing, as to not draw attention, but the demon spirit knew better. Achar grinned as he looked up the druid, peering into those animalistic eyes. “You have gotten quicker,” he remarked. ”Democritus…there is no need to fight…we are all around so running is useless…Just let us send you back and no one has to get hurt,” the man said, pleading for peace. He stood about a head taller than the shade, with long brown hair and yellow, cat like eyes. Under his dark cloak Achar could see the sword and in the air he could smell the magic radiating off the Keeper. Achar looked to think for a moment before speaking…quite simply, “No.” The shade brought his left hand around, looking to pierce the man’s throat with several daggers in a quick instance. However, the druids weren’t stupid and this one was already prepared with a spell. A ball of lightning shot from the man’s fingertips, slamming into the shade and blasting him back into the crowd of citizens, drawing yells of surprise. With a growl he hit the ground, rolling off a plump lady. A grin crossed his face as he looked at her, eyes red as blood, “Excuuuse me,” he said with a laugh, standing up and disappearing into the crowd. |
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~Description~ ~Inventory~ ~Theme Song~ The Day The Whole World Went Away "You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses." | |
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| Rylianis | May 27 2009, 02:33 PM Post #5 |
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Lord of the Realm
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... and here come the jackals... The Stalker walked quickly and purposefully, through a crowd. In a crowd, very little could go wrong. Far too many people about for drama, especially of the sort that involves violence. The Stalker had picked up five armed goons who were following him through the crowd, and two had even gotten so close as to flank him only a meter apart on either side. He brushed past people and tried to make people move aside from him, in aid of passing through more quickly, and maintaining his stride. If he betrayed a moment of weakness, the rather vicious-looking characters, bedecked in classically "rogueish" garb and classically "roguish" countenance - right down to the missing teeth and facial scars. Time to make a move... The Stalker quickened his pace, pushing past people along the way. He was garnering more attention from the public by doing this, but he envisioned that the end of the street would be coming soon, and there was every chance that he didn't have as much meatbag cover as he did at the moment (that is to say, the level of protection offered by human bodies.) His companions picked up on this change of pace, and adopted a more aggressive approach, converging ever closer upon him. These people won't get the hint, will they? Perhaps it's time to put a firmer point on it... The goon on his left pushed past a few peasants and put his hand on The Stalker's shoulder, who responded sharply by grabbing the wrist of his assailant with his left hand and applying a slight torsion to pressure point in the wrist. The rogue lost strength in his body and he dropped his center of gravity in pain, and The Stalker quickly swiveled upon his back leg to force a spike through the center of his opponent's mass. As quickly as this had occurred, he turned back around and continued to walk as the enemy began gasping and falling to the ground. Leather armour. Easy. He had begun to make a bit more of a fuss, and a few people had noticed his action. Some of them thought it prudent not to say anything, others had simply stared in disbelief. Indeed, it must have been strange, to watch someone grievously injure another human being in a flash of precise movement, then continue along their way as though nothing occurred. As per his suspicions, the end of the busy market street saw a distinct lack of human shielding, and thus he was walking into a potential death-trap. His next plan was to make a run for it, to find an alleyway where he could reduce the effectiveness of their numbers by fighting in close quarters. He noticed from the very edges of his vision more men... but different men. Unarmed, probably with a purpose, but they did not look at him, and he didn't sense any sort of intent towards him. Curious, but irrelevant. In about five seconds, he would be out in the open. Yet more men had begun tailing him, and his total entourage numbered now at around eight. Not a pleasant situation at all. Three. He looked through the thinning crowd and found a hidden alley. This is where would run to. One. The men closed in on him, and The Stalker gritted his teeth in response. His legs powered into action, sprinting across the largely open space to try and reach the alley. He could hear an ensemble of boots follow and quickened his pace... then the strangest thing happened. A strange figure burst out of the alleyway and into a crowd of people, as if thrown back by a tumultuous blast. He only got a brief look at it before it tried to lose itself in the crowd... but it seemed tall, pale, and probably female. Those around stood and stared in shock, including Rylianis and his pursuers. The only ones who did not seem surprised by this were the victim and two nearby cloaked men, much like the ones he spotted from earlier. They placed their hands out in front of them and began uttering some sort of incantation - resulting in a strange, translucent, glowing ball of energy with what appeared to be vines creeping from out of it. This wasn't arcane nor divine magic - it didn't make him feel sick at all. This was... natural, like they harnessed the will of nature to a metaphysical form. Druids! he thought, with no small amount of astonishment. He turned his head a little and realised that his pursuers were still distracted, but not for long. Quickly, he decided he would create yet another distraction in the form of a little... mayhem. In one bound, he darted forward and shot his right arm up across his body - a motion which swung his hidden blade outwards and into a locked offensive position. In the next few bounds, he closed the distance on one of the druid spellcasters whilst their concentration was upon the glowing ball and the vines which looked like they were solidifying into a physical form. When he was in range, he used the edge of the blade to cut through the jugular on the neck of one druid. He had barely begun to notice a presence in his peripheral vision when he felt the neat slice of skin, tendon, muscle and vessel alike. The blood began pouring in thick rivulets of dark green ichor and bright red arterial blood. Soon, the druid found that he could not support his body, and he lost consciousness but a few moments afterwards. Why would The Stalker do this? With a spell of that gravity, which required two able casters of any school of arcane, divine or even druidic teaching, interrupting the spell would often produce spectacular results. In this case, it was no exception. Whilst The Stalker ran in the same direction as the target of the druids, who had already disappeared, the remainder of the spell was becoming unstable. The remaining druid looked at it in fear, and a heavy sweat began to form on his brow as he tried to complete or contain the level of energy on his own. This was a valiant, but doomed effort, as it began pulsating and screaming out incoherently from an entirely different plane of reality. Suddenly, the druid became suspended in mid air, and a glowing ectoplasm began separating from his body and became sucked into the glowing ball - which then stopped screaming and collapsed upon itself. The body itself appeared to waste away and collapse into ash as it hit the ground. Silence. Silence, but for the rapid sprint of The Stalker, trying to get as far away from that ugly, ugly situation as possible. |
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"All the names of good and evil are parables: they do not declare, but only hint. Whoever among you seeks knowledge of them is a fool!" Friedrich Nietzsche Character Inventory - Character Journal Open RPs: Spoiler: click to toggle Currently Running RPs: Spoiler: click to toggle Previous and Inactive RPs: Spoiler: click to toggle Used tissues, from Denthúl - Festival 09 Raffle Ticket2009 Raffle Consolation Prize Albino Mouse A rare albino mouse. Though if there are so many given out as prizes this year, one must wonder why they're dubbed 'rare'. | |
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| Kaono | May 28 2009, 11:38 AM Post #6 |
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The Stormbringer
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Surprise, it was something Kaono knew very little about as time continued to go on outside his valley. Too many things happened too quickly for the youth to constantly get caught up in who was doing what, why and what for. No, it was not his nature to suddenly jump into something for no reason. Instead, the savage from the north would just sit back and watch, until of course the things directly effected him and rarely if ever did they. A man in a black cloak was apparently threatening to the mass majority of those outside his homeland. Or was it the feeling he gave off? Well the reason was unknown, but only a select few would go out of their way to bug him, and well when it did happen... sometimes things got crazy... other times it just didn't matter. So, it did not really bug him too much when the familiar roar of lighting erupted, blasting from a nearby direction as a man was hit with a spell, landing not too far in front of him, in fact if the youth so wished it, he could of reached down and perhaps touch the hat of the one hit with the spell. Hellraiser, rattled and hummed louder, and it caused the youth, Kaono to look down at the man as he got up and took off running deeper still into the surprised crowd. “him?” The boy asked himself as he watched his frame disappear into the growing sea of frames called a crowed. However his focus was once again shifted, as silver eyes zeroed in on another scream this time coming from the opposite direction the black one took off in. A man doubled over in pain, dispute all the noise... the youth could hear him gasp for air, taking in big gulps only for them to leak away somewhere, or to cough them back up. Soon however... it fell silent as the man died. Just what brought about so much chaos this day? And something told him it wasn't over with, the rhythm of the area changed and Kaono looked up yet again, brown and gold cloaked men and women appeared in force, nature magic filled the air, so much so it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The 3rd one cloaked in black attacked the druids, namely the two whom begun to chant a spell of some sort. The attack left the spell unstable, and instantly the man darted... obviously to get away from it. Kaono sighed, stepping forth as the mass crowd begun to panic and run, many getting pushed off the wooden walk way to begin with. Though normally he'd just take off... with the mass of people clogging the many exits there would be no escape for him and for many of those still trapped. The song of life here had been interrupted, an irregular beat that could only be this swell of magic. The massive cloak that swallowed his frame was cut free and loose, revealing the heavily scarred body painted with tribal markings of the Dian clan. His leggings flapped in the chaotic breeze the magic was creating, the 4 blades on his hips rattling, the two sentient ones humming in protest. Sovereign was drawn, and almost instantly that chaotic wind calmed and focused... tunneling around the sword itself. “Begone.” the she sword was raised high, the footing of the youth in barbaric grab squared. With both hands the blade was brought down, the wind that tunneled around the steel released in a powerful gust that with all its mighty force, both pushed Kaono backwards, blew stands and even houses on the other side away. The unfocused magic, the matter was pushed away by another magic just as if not even more powerful as she too was a force of nature one of the 4 primal forces of nature at that. As the magic flew, the youth re sheathed his weapon the thick cloak reflowing over his body. With a groan, he turned and headed after the two strangers who seemed to start all this trouble. Today just was not his day. |
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"Come... Show me what your kind calls fury."-Kaono "If your blade is drawn... then cut."-Kaono }|{Description}|{}|{Theme Song}|{}|{Inventory}|{ PhantomInventory | |
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3:06 PM Mar 19
