Twhirtley

Ebonfort

My Christmas break has officially begun!

As such, my first order of business is to catch up on all overdue replies. After that, lots of lore stuff and maintaining of the replies. Feel free to bombard me with questions, comments, whatever during this time. I have lots and lots of time.

Time Doesn't Heal Anything Quickly [Ebonfort]

The main didn't move, though his voice seemed to echo from around the entire room, "And why should I assist a dead woman?" He turned, the tiredness on his face evident, as he looked upon her. His eyebrows gestured to above the doorway she'd walked through, that had what appeared to be a knife restrained by what seemed to be a spry switch from a tree. Though it wasn't tied up, and with a simple nod, the restraint fell away to the floor. Rather, it dripped. It was blood.

As the blood was no longer held back, the knife snapped down and flung back through the doorway, directly at Megumi's throat's height. It thudded into the wall opposite the door, "You need to be more mindful of your surroundings if you're to be more useful to me than a corpse. I can use a corpse, sure, but they aren't nearly as useful as one with your... potential. But you need more practice with your step and touch than with your words."

He turned back to look at the barracks. "Nothing comes for free in this world, as you well know. That you know of them to ask, you know firecrackers and the like are very difficult to get a hold of. Yes, I do know where to get them, and yes, I can get them for you in time to use them. But we are not allowed to give them to just anyone. You have to prove yourself. And luckily for you, I have the perfect task. One that will aid use both. All you must do is follow me, without getting caught. I'll notice you, obviously. Your skills are still raw. But if you pay attention, and are smart, you'll manage. If not, you'll be a corpse."

He shrugged as he left down the stairs, keeping his feet to the outer edges of the steps, walking heel to toe, rolling his feet, completely silent. He turned the knob of the door fully, in a single motion before applying a hint of upward pressure to the door. It had squeaked open before, but now was silent. As he exited the shop, heading toward the barracks, his feet still rolled silently, but were pressured along the outer edges, no longer leaving tracks. He stuck to the natural shadows, darker in the already black night, as he looked to the barracks. There were two guards before the large double doors, chatting noisily. The left was a large male orc and the right was a female deep dwarf. Being door guards, they were unranked, and wore no sash.

And the man waited, watching, for what felt like an eternity, but was merely a few slips. Then the woman said, "Time to hit the pot, want me to bring back a snack?" The orc grunted in approval, and the woman disappeared inside. As she did, he stretched and began to meander around aimlessly, looking up and down the street. While his back was turned, the man darted quickly and silently across the way, opened the door in complete silence and returned it shut.

If Megumi chose to follow, she'd find herself before three doorways. To the left came flickering candle light, to the right total darkness, and straight ahead was a large room lit by the moonlight through the windows. What she wouldn't find, however, was the man that had just snuck in ahead of her.

[Ebonfort] The Longest Night

The leader of the bulwark of Tessanis, the true survivor of the Death of Magic, sat silently on a rocky outcropping, overlooking the campsite they'd settled into. The journey had been, fairly uneventful thus far. Sure, a few hiccups, but nothing major. But the winds had an abnormal chill in them, ever since they crossed into the mountains. It came and went, never consistent, but was definitely unnatural. It permeated his fur like the other cold couldn't. He had a suspicion of what it truly was, but he needed to know more before he could even voice such a thought. It was interesting that magic had begun returning to the world, as expected, but he had gotten used to the purist, normal world without it.

At the rate it was going, magic would be the death of him.

The snowfall reminded him of a woman from across the ages, his eyes picking out the intimate details of each flake he focused on her. Her hair had been silver, her eyes like the moon's shine. He knew that his return might cross their paths once more, for better or for worse. Many years ago, he'd been sure that he'd finished his mourning of her. But as it turned out, he'd just buried it down and it was now resurfacing. Though, to be fair, it had nothing to do with falling snow, or the moon's loving caress. No, it had everything to do with the woman he'd just watched leave her tent.

Rilana Aurorime'.

And the woman piqued his curiosity as she left camp. His gut reaction was one of treachery. Except they had no enemies, and she was hardly the disloyal type. She'd already showed her heroism at the tournament, and he was an excellent judge of character. It hadn't failed him yet. He followed her at a distance, noting her stealthiness, though it couldn't match his own. Watching her move in her natural world was quite appealing to him. It was as if seeing a flower in the wild for the first time after having only seen it in bouquets. She belonged in the cold world.

He smiled as his keen hearing picked out her words over the winds, feeling a stirring in himself as her hair tumbled free. For the first time since having left his empire's land, he began to realize that he was not bound by his station, that he could take this temporary freedom to heart. He watched her step on the ice, as he was about to reveal himself.

And then her song began.

He felt every word tug at him, speaking to him a bit more than they might have three hundred years ago. They pulled memories forth, both happy and painful. He remembered arriving in Frigmount for the first time so many years ago, an angry youth that had found calm in the frigid fortress. He remembered his hundredth birthday, knowing that nearly everyone he'd ever loved had already died. His memories carried him forth silently, feeling the ice beneath his feet now. He remembered his brother he'd had to kill, his sister who died because of his cowardice.

He remembered the last time he'd danced.

And that memory carried him silently behind the Envoy. He could smell her feminine musk, intoxicating at this distance. He knew her to be crying, his eyes watching the snowflakes settle in the cascade of her hair. His unseen eyes were hungry. He felt his time was coming soon, that his freedom would be short lived. He knew this dance, the silver eyed woman had taught it to him those centuries ago. Relaxing his stance, his hand gently and firmly found her waist, and spun her deftly around to face him. His other caught one of her swinging hands, and his eyes locked on hers.

"No woman should dance alone on her birthday, Aurorime."

With the that, he pulled her body close to him, as the unnaturally cold winds passed through them both. But he stood fast against it. Then he began to lead. His knowledge of the Frigmount steps had not waned in his years away. He kept their hips close, their torsos touching, his grip firm and direct. And though he knew the steps, the proper movements, there was something primal in them as well, his own flair. He kept this up, moving in rhythm, not with an unsung song, but with the lights above. He flowed as they did, ebbed as they waned, crested as they rose.

Many long slips into the dance, it stopped. Smiling lightly, "And how many years might our northern flower be now?"

A Slithering Scheme (Ebonfort)

The bolt from the Charr's crossbow flew wide. It didn't stop the archer, but it did slow him, forcing him to seek cover behind a tree. One of the combatants that had been facing off with the Aaenshi broke away, as his companion kept the flea infested pair entertained. He charged down the hill, short spear and shield in hand. He wasn't heading for the Charr though, but rather the Scream Raptor. Screamers knew just how dangerous they could be. His shield was in front of him defensively, as he began taunting Tricia, loud guttural sounds, waving his spear menacingly toward her.

The swordsman quickly closed the gap to Chartrose, and swung his swords sloppily in tandem. One was faster, his right hand, likely the dominant, and that sword chopped for Chartrose's left arm. The other was slower, poorly angled at the Charr's right ribs. Kladissa finally freed herself, and popped her head up over her lizard, only to be sent scurrying down after an arrow nearly took her scalp off.

A pained scream came from where the Aaenshi and Screamer were fighting, but no one could easily discern who it belonged to or what it meant. It did cause the Screamer attacking Chartrose to just for the slightest of moments, hesitate in his swings.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

Excluding Svarak, Lyle seemed to be the only person in the party not on edge. Probably because he'd been drinking nonstop since well before his arrival. He finished his flask, and pulled another out of his seemingly endless supply. As he uncorked it, the bottle cracked, and his eyes grew wide at the possibility of wasting the precious alcohol. So he quickly downed, chugging the burning, low end firewater. "Keepin' a.. bushted flashk ish bad..." he belched loudly, "Luck."

Before anyone could stop him by word or action, he chucked the bottle into the woods hard. The bottle tumbled end over end, before shattering against a tree trunk. The creepy vibe everyone had felt before just became one of rage and anger. There was a shimmer, as if there were heat waves passing in front of the tree. And what went from a perfectly normal seeming white oak, came a toothy monstrosity. It snarled loudly, and soon every single tree within sight shimmered and became the monsters that now surrounded the group.

Lyle guffawed loudly in his saddle, "Well, that must've been a special batch! I'll have to thank that buxom wench. Wushername, Charla or somethin."

The treant that had been attacked by the bottle stormed the group aggressively, stopping right in the face of Lyle, roaring loudly, blowing his hair back, showering him in various insects, moss, and forest detritus. "Oy, ya challenging me tree?" Lyle was glaring down the creature with drunken hubris, his ram surprisingly holding its ground.

"That's no tree. Those are treants. And there are many, many more than there ever were. And yes, she is challenging you. And if you don't accept, we'll have to fight our way out."

While speaking, Svarak had shot a wink at the two drow women. Svarak continued, "This is your fault," his voice accusing and aggressive, "I doubt your charge and her wolf would survive such an attempt." It seemed as if he were purposefully egging on the drunkard. And it worked. "OY! I ain't gonna let shum flea bitten housh cat or shome shtupid tree bitch call me a coward! Like Ned Peter Horrish says, challenge acshepted!"

During his loud outbursts, the two women had managed to slip from their rams, and disappear, for even the other treants were preoccupied. The drunkard hopped from his mount with a grace that truly shouldn't have been possible. The treants moved back from the female, giving her and Lyle space. He looked over his shoulder at Alya, "Y'all get goin. I'll catch up." A second treant stood near the first, "Though it sheems I'll need a shecond..."

Svarak nodded, and flicked the reins, his ram leading the way, not wanting to waste his time being a backup. There was a very unusual bird call to the east, and Svarak turned toward it. Another call from the west answered in reply. "It seems we have two paths before us. Northwest deeper into the forest or northeast into the mountains. Our scouts just confirmed them both. If this is just the beginning of the treants, there will be many more deeper in, more aggressive, territorial, and larger. Then there's the unknown mountains."

He was looking directly at Rilana as he said this, then his eyes flicked over his shoulder. Lyle had drawn his battle axes, and roared as he charged the treant. A massive tree fist smashed down toward him, that he leapt away from at the last second, and answered with a chop from his axe and a laugh. Anyone looking at his face could see that there was genuine happiness there.

Then a familiar face revealed itself to the Envoy. Her mercurial companion, the white raven arrived, alighting on her saddle. In her beak, she held an icy blue scale, radiating coldness, offering it to Rilana, before squawking gleefully, and taking off toward the northeast.

Ebonfort

A warm welcome to @Wild Alyssa as our newest writer and first Orc character! Glad to have you in the Ebonfort family!

Ebonfort

Also dragons are both rare and unseen since Pyresia is still being discovered.

Ebonfort

I'm at work right now beard bro, but I'll get a hold of you in 3-4 hours when I get home

Ebonfort

Dead Men Tell No Tales (unless you ask politely) - has begun, created by Tuddems and his Jester. This is a solo story exploring the arrival of a completely empty ship into Azure Strand harbor.

Ebonfort

@HHShetland@Rekaigan - Its on the to do list for both Shetland and myself, I've been working with him on this character for a bit now.