PopeAlessandros Member
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Yush! *Goes off to read post*
I always use the same one! I'll get to mine as soon as possible :P
Post up, yays!
The Nightmare Guardian’s mind is clouded with pain. He tries to focus on his breathing but the occasional spike of pain through his midsection makes it hitch. His thoughts fade in and out, but after a while, something catches his attention. He tenses at the sound of a sword being drawn. Trying to shake of the cloud fogging in his mind, he focuses on the voices he's picking up, but another bout of pain makes his head fall back and his eyes close. When at last the owners of the voices come into view Seishu's eyes crack open and he takes in the blurry, but familiar face of his dream world counterpart. A small chuckle makes it's way out of his throat and he murmurs softly, “Ah, just what I need, another twist of the knife.” He continues to smile at Enasi until a harsh cough brings up a rush of blood which spews out, staining his armor and chin crimson.
His hand comes up to wipe away the blood but he hadn't noticed that it was the hand holding his stomach and as he releases the wound there is a fresh stream of blood from the deep six inch slice. A loud inhuman noise makes it's way past the blood as he cries out in pain and grips his stomach firmly to stop from losing any more. In his own realm, he would be able to heal himself, and there would be others around him right now trying desperately to help him. The dark energies they would provide would have him healed up within' a week, but he can't return now, not in this state with Gin doing god knows what with his new found power.
Seeking out the Dream Guardian’s face trough eyes filled with pained tears he manages a snarky smile. “Hey, you should be celebrating. I'm most likely gonna die here, like you've always wanted. Not that it will do much good. Everyone needs nightmares, so I'll just be replaced.” He looks past Enasi towards where the rift had been less than an hour ago. “Of course, if it's Gin, I think the balance may. . . . .” His voice trails off as the blood loss gets to him. He takes a few steadying breaths before passing out against the rock.
His hand comes up to wipe away the blood but he hadn't noticed that it was the hand holding his stomach and as he releases the wound there is a fresh stream of blood from the deep six inch slice. A loud inhuman noise makes it's way past the blood as he cries out in pain and grips his stomach firmly to stop from losing any more. In his own realm, he would be able to heal himself, and there would be others around him right now trying desperately to help him. The dark energies they would provide would have him healed up within' a week, but he can't return now, not in this state with Gin doing god knows what with his new found power.
Seeking out the Dream Guardian’s face trough eyes filled with pained tears he manages a snarky smile. “Hey, you should be celebrating. I'm most likely gonna die here, like you've always wanted. Not that it will do much good. Everyone needs nightmares, so I'll just be replaced.” He looks past Enasi towards where the rift had been less than an hour ago. “Of course, if it's Gin, I think the balance may. . . . .” His voice trails off as the blood loss gets to him. He takes a few steadying breaths before passing out against the rock.
I forgot to mention(I haven't read you post yet) but there is a side character from your realm that I would love to have. It's a little obsession of mine.
His name is Peruru(Pearl) in the anime, and a dream realm wouldn't feel right without him. I was thinking he could be a little overly curious, but still terrified of me, but over time he'd be someone to talk to should you be busy off doing your Dream Realm duties :P We can change things a bit, and rename him if you like. He's just, a little something that always makes me smile :P
His name is Peruru(Pearl) in the anime, and a dream realm wouldn't feel right without him. I was thinking he could be a little overly curious, but still terrified of me, but over time he'd be someone to talk to should you be busy off doing your Dream Realm duties :P We can change things a bit, and rename him if you like. He's just, a little something that always makes me smile :P
A very fine Idea and I support it completely. I also agree with middle ages. I so see the local law enforcement some partially drunk guy sitting outside the jail with a crossbow propped up next to one leg and a jug of mead resting on the other.
So, I think we're into character sheet realm now. . . . .I can see the place clearly, and the history is there in my head. What choo think?
So, I think we're into character sheet realm now. . . . .I can see the place clearly, and the history is there in my head. What choo think?
Glad you like my guy, yours is very entertaining too, and cute! I can't wait to get started. Are we ready? And if so, do you wanna start or should I? According to your plan, it would make sense for you to go first, but I can go first if you want me to.
Oh good, I'm glad. I think we both understand now where we'll be starting, no? If so, feel free to post first, but if you want me to let me know and I'll get on it sometime today.
There we go, and post up!
Harsh panting splits the still night air. Large eyes gleam in the moonlight as a dark figure races low across the ground. In the distance the sound of angry voices echo through the hills, muffled only by the low hanging fog snaking through the gullies and valleys of the hill covered land. Tears of pain and humiliation drip down Chall's cheeks as he hurries away from the voices, one hand clenched over his shoulder. Blood seeps out from beneath his hand and between his fingers and he curses silently as he feels the warmth of the red liquid dripping down his wrist. Trying to calm his breath he rests briefly against a hill. His breath comers out in short gasps and his mind flares angrily as his ears catch the harsh voices still yelling insults and vulgar inquiries as they search for him.
A few weeks ago when his master, the court mage for the king of the small peaceful country he's now gallivanting all over, told him what the king wanted of him, Chall had almost tried to beg off. It wasn't that he wanted to disobey his master or the king, but it was no secret that he carried no real love for most people. The people didn't really have any love for him either. It had been a full generation since slavery was abolished in the closest large kingdom, and Suriel had been slave free for several. However, the animosity between races was far from gone, and with Chall's nature of strike first and risk needed to apologize later, he wasn't exactly the best being for the job. As a half breed, he had enemies on both side of the slave war history. Unfortunately, he was the only one qualified who could leave the palace, the only other would be his master, but Master Hadok had to stay by the kings side until things were settled.
Chall had overheard that there were rumors of war between the two kingdoms bordering Suriel when his master had been called in to council the king. Not wanting his dear little brother do be anywhere near such thing, after a slight hesitation, Chall had accepted the mission of finding out what he can from the land about the war. The only good part about his job is he didn't actually have to talk to anyone to get the information he needed. He just needed to commune with the energies and spirits of the land itself, following the lay-lines across the land to learn as much as he can. Call is good at that, and the first couple weeks went by fairly peaceably. However, all good things must come to an end.
Finally getting his breathing under control, Chall dares a peek at his shoulder under his hand and a sharp gasps escapes him as the movement sends a jolt through his system. 'The damn bleeding won't stop. That bastard!' Covering the wound again his teeth clench in pain as he clamps down hard.
Well over an hour ago he'd stumbled across a group of humans camped out in the hills. He'd been far to tired to pay too much attention to the sounds around him, he was just looking for a place to settle down for the night. At first they'd seemed almost civil, if a bit drunk. They'd offered him a place by the fire, but just as he turned them down and began to turn to walk away, the fire had flared and they spotted his feet peeking out from beneath his robes. The distinctive black cat fur and hooked claws gleamed in the firelight and it was like a small explosion.
The men and woman began jeering, a few coming to their feet in a flash. Caught off guard Chall had no chance to defend himself when one of them said something about half-breed steak and whipped a throwing knife through the air. The blade sunk deep and Chall had just enough time to cry out before he had to run for his life as the sight of blood seemed to rile the rest of the group up and they launched themselves at him. After a few minutes of running he managed to remove the knife, but his blood trail would lead them right to him. Using the blood already on his hand he made a quick pact with the water and air, conjuring up the mist to mask his passage through the hills.
Chall's heart begins to race as the voices come closer to his resting place. The small of the grass, damp from the mist, seems to be over powered by the blood pooling beneath him and Chall drags himself to his feet and begins fleeing once again. The sound of animals in the distance makes him pause for a moment and after a second of indecision he draws upon the surrounding tranquility to cloak himself in a veil of peaceful feelings. It does nothing to calm his own hammering heart, but he prays it will be enough not to startle what sounds like a heard of animals making use of the early morning dew covered grass. He follows the sound of the herd and after a minute of pain hampered jogging, the first few sheep come into view. Slowing he makes sure the cloak is still in place and moves into the middle of the herd. Finding a fairly packed little group he settles down in the middle, leaning against one that rests on the ground while munching on a mouthful of grass. The cloak makes him seem nearly invisible to the sheep, and they continue grazing. His breath begins to slow as the voices seem further and further away, until at last even his sharp hearing can n longer detect their voices. Heaving a sigh of relief, he doesn't even notice that the sun is rising slowly over a hill, or that his consciousness is slipping further and further out of his grasp, until at last he falls into an exhausted asleep.
A few weeks ago when his master, the court mage for the king of the small peaceful country he's now gallivanting all over, told him what the king wanted of him, Chall had almost tried to beg off. It wasn't that he wanted to disobey his master or the king, but it was no secret that he carried no real love for most people. The people didn't really have any love for him either. It had been a full generation since slavery was abolished in the closest large kingdom, and Suriel had been slave free for several. However, the animosity between races was far from gone, and with Chall's nature of strike first and risk needed to apologize later, he wasn't exactly the best being for the job. As a half breed, he had enemies on both side of the slave war history. Unfortunately, he was the only one qualified who could leave the palace, the only other would be his master, but Master Hadok had to stay by the kings side until things were settled.
Chall had overheard that there were rumors of war between the two kingdoms bordering Suriel when his master had been called in to council the king. Not wanting his dear little brother do be anywhere near such thing, after a slight hesitation, Chall had accepted the mission of finding out what he can from the land about the war. The only good part about his job is he didn't actually have to talk to anyone to get the information he needed. He just needed to commune with the energies and spirits of the land itself, following the lay-lines across the land to learn as much as he can. Call is good at that, and the first couple weeks went by fairly peaceably. However, all good things must come to an end.
Finally getting his breathing under control, Chall dares a peek at his shoulder under his hand and a sharp gasps escapes him as the movement sends a jolt through his system. 'The damn bleeding won't stop. That bastard!' Covering the wound again his teeth clench in pain as he clamps down hard.
Well over an hour ago he'd stumbled across a group of humans camped out in the hills. He'd been far to tired to pay too much attention to the sounds around him, he was just looking for a place to settle down for the night. At first they'd seemed almost civil, if a bit drunk. They'd offered him a place by the fire, but just as he turned them down and began to turn to walk away, the fire had flared and they spotted his feet peeking out from beneath his robes. The distinctive black cat fur and hooked claws gleamed in the firelight and it was like a small explosion.
The men and woman began jeering, a few coming to their feet in a flash. Caught off guard Chall had no chance to defend himself when one of them said something about half-breed steak and whipped a throwing knife through the air. The blade sunk deep and Chall had just enough time to cry out before he had to run for his life as the sight of blood seemed to rile the rest of the group up and they launched themselves at him. After a few minutes of running he managed to remove the knife, but his blood trail would lead them right to him. Using the blood already on his hand he made a quick pact with the water and air, conjuring up the mist to mask his passage through the hills.
Chall's heart begins to race as the voices come closer to his resting place. The small of the grass, damp from the mist, seems to be over powered by the blood pooling beneath him and Chall drags himself to his feet and begins fleeing once again. The sound of animals in the distance makes him pause for a moment and after a second of indecision he draws upon the surrounding tranquility to cloak himself in a veil of peaceful feelings. It does nothing to calm his own hammering heart, but he prays it will be enough not to startle what sounds like a heard of animals making use of the early morning dew covered grass. He follows the sound of the herd and after a minute of pain hampered jogging, the first few sheep come into view. Slowing he makes sure the cloak is still in place and moves into the middle of the herd. Finding a fairly packed little group he settles down in the middle, leaning against one that rests on the ground while munching on a mouthful of grass. The cloak makes him seem nearly invisible to the sheep, and they continue grazing. His breath begins to slow as the voices seem further and further away, until at last even his sharp hearing can n longer detect their voices. Heaving a sigh of relief, he doesn't even notice that the sun is rising slowly over a hill, or that his consciousness is slipping further and further out of his grasp, until at last he falls into an exhausted asleep.
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