SepticGentleman

Under the Red Sun

Darsi and Apollos

Do you feel it? The sands, they used to shift underneath his feet, but ohhhhh, Darsi. Now he's gone walkabout with his full-half on the duality of an arachnid. No, no, you're not listening, pay attention. This is not going to be on the test, so don't bother preparing yourself. The tent is filled to the brim with a plethora of smokes and fumes. Half of them are real, the other half don't even exist yet (Hh, but they will, or his name isn't Darsi, y'hear?). Dorak, Dorak, nowhere to be seen, save one and his other, in this great, big pot of horses and metal they and them have found below the brim circling. And you're still not listening you cretin. Don't complain when you fail everything, then. Do you feel it now? Darsi waved his hand through the wisps of various concoctions in the air, all of bright, varying colors which he could not even see very well. It smelled like all of Dorakis in there, and if that fat, snickering Dorak had any say in it (which he did), soon it'd smell like all of Tithe whenever he lights this skora-boat ablaze. Making it burn them, yeah? Igniting fields of whatever in the joyful smells of... of... Do you hear that? Sounds like fights. Darsi slowly crept up from his hammock amidst the cluttered mess that was the brothers' tent. He lazily inched for the front flap, waving his hands, coughing some. Couldn't see half a turd, what with the gunk in his eyes from years upon years of inhaling incenses. Great ones, terrible ones, well-mixed and otherwise. Some were hashes, other were powders. All of them did something. They brought joy and relaxation, and soul-crushing anxiety. But they worked. On him, of course. On others? Well, he'd have to make some offers. Get people to sample the goods before he started selling them off. Maybe whoever was conducting these here fights would oblige him... save he's still high as the sky, though. Might be a problem, might not be. Let's call it a procedural adventure. He turned and grabbed a still-smoking incense while he was wading through the though. He opened the flap up and took a whiff of the fresh, outside air. And then he looked around at all the commotion. There was a big, blue worm on the roof of the drinking house with a smaller, pinker worm riding on top of it. And there was a similar pink worm yelling at them. What on Tithe was HAPPENING HERE. A question best left ignored, Darsi thought. He jumped down onto the stone pathway below, incense still in hand, and still giving off a faint fume. He was ridiculously careful with the incense in his hand while the rest of his body bobbed and weaved like a drunken ragdoll. He wiped his nose a bit, snorting, before proceeding towards the scene. He heard the muffled sounds of words like "dragon" and "rider", which he mentally translated to "dang gone" and "ripper" for some reason. He approached one of the armed sausages, shuffling his feet, almost tripping. He was right next to the guy, giggling. Apollos stared up at the massive dragon, practically craning his neck to see its head raised high into the air. He still had both sword drawn, but as the situation began to diffuse he lowered them. A strange smell reached his nose which he recognized from his time in Dorakis as insence, fumes which they used to intoxicate themselves. He had done it before himself, but he couldn't quite remember what it felt like. He turned to see a large Dorak, standing before the dragon and giggling. "I take it you've never seen a dragon before, then?" Apollos asked him. He took half a step back from Darsi, trying to prevent the fumes from intoxicating him. Darsi paused a moment before he simply burst out laughing at Apollos. "Y-! You saids!" He stammered out, "Dra- HA, HAAAA!" He keeled over, still keeping the bowl full of the potent incense balanced. After a moment he reared up and reached into the bowl, dabbing a bit of powder on his fingers. He held his hand up to Apollos and said, very calmly, "Smells this." "I think I'll pass." Apollos replied, moving his head back and pushing Darsi's hand away from him. He felt a smile coming to his own face as well, and his shoulders loosened a bit from the calmness which began to overtake him. Darsi paused and stared at Apollos with a stupid grin on his face for half a moment before turning his head upwards, at the blue worm and the potato riding it. He dabbed his fingers in the bowl again and raised his hand, calling out, "Smells this!"

Under the Red Sun

God damn it... You ever have those times where you like "Finished!", click post....and the internet eats the post...?

@Kimiyosis

Never prepare posts in the Guild box. Just. Never do it. It's not okay.

Under the Red Sun

I'm currently drawing a map of Tithe. It's big, but it will be done relatively soon.

Under the Red Sun

Welcome back to Red Sun, ladies and gentlmen. Now get out.

Under the Red Sun

I know you guys were only joking around, so im not angry or anything, sorry for the awkward information...

@The_written_John

@Leonerdo

There's a skeleton for every occasion, apparently.

Under the Red Sun

Lord of Owls

A needle. A needle in the shoulder. Burrowing, deeper and deeper. The soldier's vision quickly reinstates itself as he pries his eyes open, grunting in pain. A low yell as the needle scrapes against a bone, and suddenly, it retreats. The soldier hangs his head, breathing heavily. He feels his hands and feet bound by chains. He feels the splintered wooden chair pressing into his back. There is the faintest light from a lantern, seated on the rocky floor below. He slowly looks up at the figure conducting this cruelty. Regal garbs lead upward to a head lost in the darkness of the room, save for two enormous, blank white eyes. Peering through his own. "Name." The figure says with a stern, muffled voice. The soldier hesitated, but soon enough, he cracked. "Daron..." He said through short breaths, "Daronais... Wellant..." "Role." The figure says. "Go to hell..." The soldier replies halfheartedly. The figure raises his hand and drives the needle through Daronais's other shoulder. He yells in agony, attempting to kick his feet and writhe free of his binds. All of his attempts are fruitless. Eventually he yields, and the needle is slowly removed. "Wess-... Wesserius..." He mutters, "I am... one of Wesserius'... reconnaissance agents..." "Which places you upon a higher echelon than his troops. I stole you away while you crept upon Alscae in the night. Near the Tartarus mountain range." The torturer says, "You have value." "He doesn't value any of us..." Daronais snapped back. "Of course he doesn't." Sounded the figure, "You're nothing but tools to him. To me, however, you are flesh. Life. Sentience. And that's well enough to aid me in my pursuits." He leaned in closer to Daronais, revealing his horrid visage - dark, matted feathers, and a pointed beak. "You will tell me what you know of Wesserius's plans. Where he is going. What he intends to do. Everything. You have two excuses. If you lie to me... the needle will tear the flesh again. Twice more beyond that... and you will regret your answers." "I don't know anything..." Daronais says to him. The torturer promptly raises his needle and pushes it between the soldier's lips, scraping the roof of his mouth before violently waving it out of his teeth. Daronais gags, spitting a bit of blood on the rock floor beneath his chair. He picks at the wound with his tongue as his captor wipes the blood off of the needle. "Lies..." He says, "Will only bring you closer and closer to the brink of the alternative method. You do not desire such. I know this. And many before you have as well." He paced around Daronais, holding the needle near his head. "Many nights. Many encampments. Many men lost in the dark. Few returned, writhing in their sleep, spilling horrid things from between their bruised lips." A cold, gloved hand rests itself upon Daronais's shoulder. He feels the needle at his cheek. And the faintest of whispers in his ear... "_{Do you know who I am.}" "_The..." Daronais whispers back, "_{The Lord... the Lord of Owls...}" The needle leaves his cheek. "The Red Legion speaks little of me." The Lord of Owls says to him, "I am but chatter and gossip among your lessers. A rumor. A joke, even. Especially to one such as Wesserius, so... devoid of concern. But he's sloppy... leaving a still-scorching trail..." The needle is once again set before Daronais's face. "You have used one of your two excuses. Lie to me twice more... and you will know true fear." "It's the truth, I swear..." He replies, cringing, "The General... Wesserius, he, he never even delegates his charts or plans to us, he just... makes everything up as he goes along!" His answer was met with a slash across his forehead, which began to bleed rather profusely for such a small cut. "You've no exuses left. One more lie..." He gently placed his upon the soldier's shoulder and raised the needle to his eye. "South!" Daronais said through quick breaths and sweat. "South! South, he's... I heard him say he was moving south, that's it, I swear..." The needle retreats. "There's not much shortly south of Ignion worth burning." The Lord of Owls says, "The Wilderness... all mysteries and folklore. I know what he truly wishes to burn. People. Establishments. Civilization." He looks down at Daronais with those horrible eyes again. "He's headed for Maceron." The soldier does not respond, but merely hangs his head in shame, knowing he's outlived his usefulness by now. "Just... kill me..." He mutters, "You got what you want, just..." "No." The needle raises under Daronais's chin, cutting him as the Lord of Owls meets his gaze. "I will send you back to him." He says, "I will have you tell him what you experienced here. You will tell him the Lord of Owls is real, and that I am coming for him. He will know fear that breaks down his wall of arrogance. And this time, so they have cause to listen to what they would normally denounce as inane babble..." He pulls a contraption from within his cloak and swiftly clamps it down on Daronais's head. Bars and wires shift and spread, firmly grasping his cranium and pulling his eyelids apart. He sees a differnent needle now... a red one... inch further and further towards his eye. "You will be marked." There are screams. But no one hears them. No one who cares.

Under the Red Sun

I know you guys were only joking around, so im not angry or anything, sorry for the awkward information...

@The_written_John

There's no need to apologize bud. You're fine as you are.

Under the Red Sun

Sorry, i use those emoticons pretty much all the time in order to pitifully mask my own self loathing and deep depression, use to be a common trait one of my close friends use to have which always made me smile even when i was feeling suicidal, until he died of a heart attack about 3 years ago when i was 16 Hooray for incredibly depressing real life backstory information im saying for no reason other than me feeling kinda depressed today for no reason... Heheh... Heh... Sorry guys...

@The_written_John

That's okay, boyt. No judgments here.

Under the Red Sun

T^T Nasal virginity. My mental state was violated by this newfound information *fetal position quivering in a dark corner*

@Kimiyosis

That dark corner looks perfect for finishing character sheets.

Under the Red Sun

Okay, so don't ask me why I did this, but I did it anyways. There have been a total of 25 'XD's posted by John in this OOC. Seeing as we have about 432 OOC, that's about 1 XD per 17.28 posts. Acceptable standards, I'd say.

@SirBeowulf

He did the math, guys. He did the math.