Introduction
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xxx x E V E R A C Exxx » x REKINDLE x THE x LIGHT x
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Before we called them gods, they were the Blind Giants. They lived in total darkness among the monsters and demons, until one of them reached beyond the sky and found the Light. The giants all killed each other over the new gift, thinking whoever held power over the light would wield power over the world. Now the giants are dead, and the light is slowly fading from our world. Only someone with the mark of an undead can rekindle the light, if not the world will fall into darkness once more.
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THE PLOT »
What has happened so far, and where we begin.
Our story begins in Bellbrisborg, where the High King Elfric is blessed with two sons. His firstborn, Ealdgyd, is the epitome of strength, and in his adult years is known as a fearsome and loyal knight to the kingdom. The second-born, and heir to the throne, is in many ways the opposite of his brother. Beorhtric is born ill, and it becomes clear that his legs will never fully work. As he grows older, Beorhtric shows a deep fascination for the magical arts, and spends most of his time in the city’s library studying ancient secrets best left alone.
Worried for the future of his kingdom, King Elfric concludes that Beorhtric cannot be allowed to succeed him. He goes on to have an affair which bears a child- a little girl. The queen disappears shortly after the birth and Elfric presents the child as true born. As far as the rest of the kingdom knows, the princess is legitimate, and according to the kingdom’s rules, the new heir to the throne. What they don’t know is that the princess bears the mark of the Valrfolk, the accursed undead that roam the land. Destined to be born again upon her death as something… less than human.
She lives until her twenties when Beorthric’s jealousy finally reaches critical mass. In a quiet moment, he uses his magic to push her off one of the castle’s balconies. She dies, and is born again. Beorhtric banishes the former princess, and arranges for her to be brought to a prison for undeads where they can wait out their sanity, locked away from the human world. He reveals her illegitimacy to the kingdom and demands that the king abdicates. The king, shamed and grieving, disappears from public eye.
For three years, Beorhtric rules the kingdom, remaining paranoid of both his father and his sister. His brother Ealdgyd on the other hand, shows a nigh fanatical devotion to the king. They lock themselves away in the highest tower of the caste where they’ll be safe from the undead plague. Meanwhile, in the prison, the princess fed legends about the Valrfolk, and begins to form a plan for reclaiming her throne despite her origins. If she can prove her worth to the people, and bring the light back to Caligux, she can get her revenge on Beorhtric. But can she do this alone?
What has happened so far, and where we begin.
Our story begins in Bellbrisborg, where the High King Elfric is blessed with two sons. His firstborn, Ealdgyd, is the epitome of strength, and in his adult years is known as a fearsome and loyal knight to the kingdom. The second-born, and heir to the throne, is in many ways the opposite of his brother. Beorhtric is born ill, and it becomes clear that his legs will never fully work. As he grows older, Beorhtric shows a deep fascination for the magical arts, and spends most of his time in the city’s library studying ancient secrets best left alone.
Worried for the future of his kingdom, King Elfric concludes that Beorhtric cannot be allowed to succeed him. He goes on to have an affair which bears a child- a little girl. The queen disappears shortly after the birth and Elfric presents the child as true born. As far as the rest of the kingdom knows, the princess is legitimate, and according to the kingdom’s rules, the new heir to the throne. What they don’t know is that the princess bears the mark of the Valrfolk, the accursed undead that roam the land. Destined to be born again upon her death as something… less than human.
She lives until her twenties when Beorthric’s jealousy finally reaches critical mass. In a quiet moment, he uses his magic to push her off one of the castle’s balconies. She dies, and is born again. Beorhtric banishes the former princess, and arranges for her to be brought to a prison for undeads where they can wait out their sanity, locked away from the human world. He reveals her illegitimacy to the kingdom and demands that the king abdicates. The king, shamed and grieving, disappears from public eye.
For three years, Beorhtric rules the kingdom, remaining paranoid of both his father and his sister. His brother Ealdgyd on the other hand, shows a nigh fanatical devotion to the king. They lock themselves away in the highest tower of the caste where they’ll be safe from the undead plague. Meanwhile, in the prison, the princess fed legends about the Valrfolk, and begins to form a plan for reclaiming her throne despite her origins. If she can prove her worth to the people, and bring the light back to Caligux, she can get her revenge on Beorhtric. But can she do this alone?
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- 8 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 3 authors
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ADET'S ESCAPE
Valrcumb, the first day of freedom.
A chasm cut through Caligux, the length of a country and the depth of which few dared to consider. It was, for the most part, ignored. Bridges were built across by the closest settlers- some large and impressive like the ornate borders of nearby kingdoms. Others were little more than rope bridges constructed by travelers and peddlers far from home.
The chasm's main point of entry was the old temple ruins, well worn by wind, sand and time, that stood in uncontested Ascakr territory. Neutral ground, where convoys from surrounding kingdoms could throw their unwanted into the ancient well within the temple walls. The well led to the only official building in the chasm: the undead prison. Once, the prison had been guarded by well-meaning volunteers, but they were long gone now. The prisoners filled the halls and riddled the chasm, spreading ever faster as their sanity waned.
They called the chasm Valrcumb - the valley of the dead. No living soul who valued their life would go near it.
The prison itself had no real name that Adet knew of. Her childhood nurse had a few choice nicknames for it, but whatever the original name had been, it had long since been forgotten. It was possible that the temple and the prison had been built at the same time, long ago, but like much of Caligux that, too, was lost to history.
At first, Adet had tried to climb. After waking up to the last rays of sun streaming down from the well opening. The walls had been smooth, despite the scratches made by those who came before, and she had to abandon project pretty quickly. For days she had explored the floor, hoping to find a way up. Moving carefully, hiding in dark corners from the sound of shuffling feet. For some reason, They always traveled in groups. Finally, satisfied that there was no way up, she began to move down. That had been a month ago, if not more.
The prison was filled with rubble and garbage. Old weapons and armour in various states of disrepair. Possibly heroes seeking to bring order to the Valrfolk. What was left of them, anyway. Either way it worked to her advantage, and by the time she reached the cellar, she was armoured and armed to the brim. Her face was covered in dirt and bruises from multiple scuffles and quite a few rounds with Valrfolk who couldn't be bothered to scrounge for themselves. And that wasn't even counting her encounter with the stranger.
He had never given her a name. She felt bad about that, now. She should have asked.
But her guilt was overshadowed by the relief of feeling cool air against her skin. She didn't breathe anymore, but she could smell and feel, and the difference was immediately apparent. Blood and rot slowly faded into the background as she entered a courtyard. Her eyes fell to a pair of double doors at the end, with a large and vaguely human sized crack from the no doubt countless Valrfolk that had already burst through. There were a few of them dragging their feet around in the courtyard too.
She walked slowly, keeping an eye on the slow-moving forms in the distance. One wrong move and they would be sprinting in her direction with their teeth barred and claws raised. My future, she thought. When all I can think of is the sound of blood.
Luckily, she reached the doors unnoticed and was able to sneak through. The sight was at once exactly what she expected and nothing like she imagined. Huge walls of rock and dirt rising on each side of a giant valley, stretching as far as she could see. Trotting down the small hill of the prison entrance, she could see small rivers running through the chasm- collections of trees here and there. Then there were the buildings. Though most of them were dilapitated and falling apart, there were quite a few of them. That alone tore down most of her preconceptions on the spot.
She headed for a stream where she'd be nicely hidden behind the trees. Getting to her knees, she dropped her mace and gathered water in her palms. Washing her face, she leaned back and sighed. She had to find out which direction would take her to Aldansjord. Then there was the small matter of bringing the light back to caligux.
And, in the end, removing the crown from Beorhtric's dead, backstabbing hands.
She leaned against a nearby tree, eyelids heavy and drifting shut as her mind worked.
Valrcumb, the first day of freedom.
A chasm cut through Caligux, the length of a country and the depth of which few dared to consider. It was, for the most part, ignored. Bridges were built across by the closest settlers- some large and impressive like the ornate borders of nearby kingdoms. Others were little more than rope bridges constructed by travelers and peddlers far from home.
The chasm's main point of entry was the old temple ruins, well worn by wind, sand and time, that stood in uncontested Ascakr territory. Neutral ground, where convoys from surrounding kingdoms could throw their unwanted into the ancient well within the temple walls. The well led to the only official building in the chasm: the undead prison. Once, the prison had been guarded by well-meaning volunteers, but they were long gone now. The prisoners filled the halls and riddled the chasm, spreading ever faster as their sanity waned.
They called the chasm Valrcumb - the valley of the dead. No living soul who valued their life would go near it.
The prison itself had no real name that Adet knew of. Her childhood nurse had a few choice nicknames for it, but whatever the original name had been, it had long since been forgotten. It was possible that the temple and the prison had been built at the same time, long ago, but like much of Caligux that, too, was lost to history.
At first, Adet had tried to climb. After waking up to the last rays of sun streaming down from the well opening. The walls had been smooth, despite the scratches made by those who came before, and she had to abandon project pretty quickly. For days she had explored the floor, hoping to find a way up. Moving carefully, hiding in dark corners from the sound of shuffling feet. For some reason, They always traveled in groups. Finally, satisfied that there was no way up, she began to move down. That had been a month ago, if not more.
The prison was filled with rubble and garbage. Old weapons and armour in various states of disrepair. Possibly heroes seeking to bring order to the Valrfolk. What was left of them, anyway. Either way it worked to her advantage, and by the time she reached the cellar, she was armoured and armed to the brim. Her face was covered in dirt and bruises from multiple scuffles and quite a few rounds with Valrfolk who couldn't be bothered to scrounge for themselves. And that wasn't even counting her encounter with the stranger.
He had never given her a name. She felt bad about that, now. She should have asked.
But her guilt was overshadowed by the relief of feeling cool air against her skin. She didn't breathe anymore, but she could smell and feel, and the difference was immediately apparent. Blood and rot slowly faded into the background as she entered a courtyard. Her eyes fell to a pair of double doors at the end, with a large and vaguely human sized crack from the no doubt countless Valrfolk that had already burst through. There were a few of them dragging their feet around in the courtyard too.
She walked slowly, keeping an eye on the slow-moving forms in the distance. One wrong move and they would be sprinting in her direction with their teeth barred and claws raised. My future, she thought. When all I can think of is the sound of blood.
Luckily, she reached the doors unnoticed and was able to sneak through. The sight was at once exactly what she expected and nothing like she imagined. Huge walls of rock and dirt rising on each side of a giant valley, stretching as far as she could see. Trotting down the small hill of the prison entrance, she could see small rivers running through the chasm- collections of trees here and there. Then there were the buildings. Though most of them were dilapitated and falling apart, there were quite a few of them. That alone tore down most of her preconceptions on the spot.
She headed for a stream where she'd be nicely hidden behind the trees. Getting to her knees, she dropped her mace and gathered water in her palms. Washing her face, she leaned back and sighed. She had to find out which direction would take her to Aldansjord. Then there was the small matter of bringing the light back to caligux.
And, in the end, removing the crown from Beorhtric's dead, backstabbing hands.
She leaned against a nearby tree, eyelids heavy and drifting shut as her mind worked.
Madmen. All of them. This entire journey has been for naught.
With impassionate eyes, Berenice regarded the pathetic flailings of the man-husk before her. She had hoped to see even the faintest shred of humanity in this accursed place, to see the most vague resemblance of a man within the grotesque mockery of life that still tried to reach her sans its legs.
"Not much of a saviour, are you," she mused loudly as the horrid thing reached feverishly for her warm flesh, teeth clacking in anticipation and a dry wheeze escaping its parched throat. Picking up a sizeable rock, she made short work of it, freeing it from its misery.
She did not know what she had expected. Valrfolk, lightbringers? She had grown up believing the stories, but the evidence had been clear from the first time she witnessed the damn things. they were beasts - no, less than. The basest of animals still has the sense to preserve itself.
Her gaze wandered upwards, fixating on the massive structure at the end of the valley. It seemed as much a ruin as the rest of the structures around her. A skeleton of rock and mortar, hinting at faded grandeur. Any hope of finding a living corpse with the barest hint of sense in it would be slim.
How long had it been since she made the trek across the plains? The days were blurred, a homogenous mess in her mind. Weeks, months? Surely not years..? It felt like a lifetime ago at this point. She never thought she would miss the arid, dusty plains of her upbringing. It had been a harsh, violent and unforgiving place, but at least it had been home. She had found love there, of a sort. Her hand absently went to her stomach, memories she would sooner forget surfacing. Quickly, she pushed them aside.
Survive. Whatever you do, survive. No matter what happens, survive. It was the attitude that had kept her alive through it all. Her thoughts went to her immediate needs. Thirst. Hunger. She headed for a nearby stream, filling her waterskin. She caught herself smiling. Water, plentiful water, flowing freely. Such a rare commodity in her homeland.
Her musings were interrupted by noise nearby. Quickly, she hunkered down, drawing her knife. The worn, almost dull piece of metal wouldn't do much good against these corpse-men, but a preferable option to bare fists any day.
It came from across the stream, from a nearby copse of trees. Slowly, she made her way over, every muscle in her body tensing up. And there it was again, a shuffling sound, faint, but not unnoticed by her sharp ear.
She carefully measured every step, making sure her feet landed noiselessly. Steeling herself for whatever she might discover, she peered out from betwixt the treetrunks, her gaze falling upon... a sleeping woman? Not a rotten, wheezing husk, but a living, breathing human being!
"Bones of the Gods," she whispered sharply, forgetting subtlety in her excitement.
With impassionate eyes, Berenice regarded the pathetic flailings of the man-husk before her. She had hoped to see even the faintest shred of humanity in this accursed place, to see the most vague resemblance of a man within the grotesque mockery of life that still tried to reach her sans its legs.
"Not much of a saviour, are you," she mused loudly as the horrid thing reached feverishly for her warm flesh, teeth clacking in anticipation and a dry wheeze escaping its parched throat. Picking up a sizeable rock, she made short work of it, freeing it from its misery.
She did not know what she had expected. Valrfolk, lightbringers? She had grown up believing the stories, but the evidence had been clear from the first time she witnessed the damn things. they were beasts - no, less than. The basest of animals still has the sense to preserve itself.
Her gaze wandered upwards, fixating on the massive structure at the end of the valley. It seemed as much a ruin as the rest of the structures around her. A skeleton of rock and mortar, hinting at faded grandeur. Any hope of finding a living corpse with the barest hint of sense in it would be slim.
How long had it been since she made the trek across the plains? The days were blurred, a homogenous mess in her mind. Weeks, months? Surely not years..? It felt like a lifetime ago at this point. She never thought she would miss the arid, dusty plains of her upbringing. It had been a harsh, violent and unforgiving place, but at least it had been home. She had found love there, of a sort. Her hand absently went to her stomach, memories she would sooner forget surfacing. Quickly, she pushed them aside.
Survive. Whatever you do, survive. No matter what happens, survive. It was the attitude that had kept her alive through it all. Her thoughts went to her immediate needs. Thirst. Hunger. She headed for a nearby stream, filling her waterskin. She caught herself smiling. Water, plentiful water, flowing freely. Such a rare commodity in her homeland.
Her musings were interrupted by noise nearby. Quickly, she hunkered down, drawing her knife. The worn, almost dull piece of metal wouldn't do much good against these corpse-men, but a preferable option to bare fists any day.
It came from across the stream, from a nearby copse of trees. Slowly, she made her way over, every muscle in her body tensing up. And there it was again, a shuffling sound, faint, but not unnoticed by her sharp ear.
She carefully measured every step, making sure her feet landed noiselessly. Steeling herself for whatever she might discover, she peered out from betwixt the treetrunks, her gaze falling upon... a sleeping woman? Not a rotten, wheezing husk, but a living, breathing human being!
"Bones of the Gods," she whispered sharply, forgetting subtlety in her excitement.
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Nezi'rel was beginning to think he'd found the worst place imaginable to take up residence. This place was a wasteland and though it was far away from the humans, it was closer to the retched Valfolk. When he'd first arrived in this nice little area, he'd seen the torn down homes, the streams, the tree line, and he'd thought the spot would be perfect. The decrepit homes meant that humans had long deserted the area and they probably wouldn't be back for a very long time. Nezi'rel would have peace and he'd be able to live off the animals in the area by himself and perhaps others of his kind had decided to make this haven a home.
He'd been sorely mistaken. Varlfolk wandered about and though usually he could stay out of their way, they were like blood crazed beasts. Once they scented him and he'd ventured too close, the creatures chased him until he killed them again. Unlike humans, they didn't tire and they didn't need anything aside from blood. Nezi'rel's little oasis was beginning to look more and more like a false hope. And the animals in these parts were scarce too. No doubt the Varlfolk had terrorized the animals or had already torn through them. Perhaps it was time to move on after all. He hadn't seen any of his kin here anyway.
Nezi'rel sighed to himself before he slid down a tree, his claws extended to make the descent smoother. He followed one of the streams that cut through the small forest, looking for one last hunt. He didn't know when he'd find a good meal again and he'd rather not starve on the road somewhere. He had sniffed out something on the wind earlier but it had been too far off and the Varlfolk too close to bother tailing it. Perhaps now it had gotten closer and he'd be able to track where it was going and whether or not it would be good eating. The Varlfolk he'd noted earlier had already gone off somewhere so he wouldn't have to worry about that at least.
The Vetaak heard a noise in the distance and froze a moment, head cocking to the side. The motion brought his dark hair and bright feathers cascading down his shoulders. Nezi'rel hurriedly climbed a tree then to find a better vantage point. He traversed the close knit trees as silent as a creeping spider upon its web until he found what had made the rustling noise. Nezi'rel crouched low on his branch as he watched the girl sit down beneath a tree and promptly fall asleep. He didn't normally like eating humans, but she would do for his journey. His long feathered tail expanded behind him as he used it to balance himself out as he judged how he wanted to pounce on the defenseless morsel. At least until the breeze carried her scent towards him. Nezi'rel made an 'ech' face and shook himself off.
Varlfolk.
Well, it looked like he was out of dinner. The Varlfolk did not taste good and he wasn't about to force a single bite down his throat. He'd rather starve than eat their rotting husks. Well, might as well put it out of its misery. One less of the Varlfolk in the world, the better. He scented the air, trying to determine if others were nearby. He did not want to have a blood frenzy on his hands. He wanted little energy spent on this killing.
Before he could pounce on the Varlfolk below him, another rustling caught his attention and he turned his golden eyes up to see an actual human walk into the scene. She did not have the stench of the dead. Her bigger form would make for better nutrition too. She looked fit. He did quickly note the various weapons she harbored. She would be dangerous on a one to one fight and he didn't like it when the odds were against him. Humans however also hated the Varlfolk. This meant she would probably kill the one under the tree. The Varlfolk didn't go down easy so it would wear out the hunter. Regardless, one would end up dead and the other injured so his chances of success only increased. Why not let them kill each other and do the work for him? Patience feeds the belly, as his mother used to say.
He'd been sorely mistaken. Varlfolk wandered about and though usually he could stay out of their way, they were like blood crazed beasts. Once they scented him and he'd ventured too close, the creatures chased him until he killed them again. Unlike humans, they didn't tire and they didn't need anything aside from blood. Nezi'rel's little oasis was beginning to look more and more like a false hope. And the animals in these parts were scarce too. No doubt the Varlfolk had terrorized the animals or had already torn through them. Perhaps it was time to move on after all. He hadn't seen any of his kin here anyway.
Nezi'rel sighed to himself before he slid down a tree, his claws extended to make the descent smoother. He followed one of the streams that cut through the small forest, looking for one last hunt. He didn't know when he'd find a good meal again and he'd rather not starve on the road somewhere. He had sniffed out something on the wind earlier but it had been too far off and the Varlfolk too close to bother tailing it. Perhaps now it had gotten closer and he'd be able to track where it was going and whether or not it would be good eating. The Varlfolk he'd noted earlier had already gone off somewhere so he wouldn't have to worry about that at least.
The Vetaak heard a noise in the distance and froze a moment, head cocking to the side. The motion brought his dark hair and bright feathers cascading down his shoulders. Nezi'rel hurriedly climbed a tree then to find a better vantage point. He traversed the close knit trees as silent as a creeping spider upon its web until he found what had made the rustling noise. Nezi'rel crouched low on his branch as he watched the girl sit down beneath a tree and promptly fall asleep. He didn't normally like eating humans, but she would do for his journey. His long feathered tail expanded behind him as he used it to balance himself out as he judged how he wanted to pounce on the defenseless morsel. At least until the breeze carried her scent towards him. Nezi'rel made an 'ech' face and shook himself off.
Varlfolk.
Well, it looked like he was out of dinner. The Varlfolk did not taste good and he wasn't about to force a single bite down his throat. He'd rather starve than eat their rotting husks. Well, might as well put it out of its misery. One less of the Varlfolk in the world, the better. He scented the air, trying to determine if others were nearby. He did not want to have a blood frenzy on his hands. He wanted little energy spent on this killing.
Before he could pounce on the Varlfolk below him, another rustling caught his attention and he turned his golden eyes up to see an actual human walk into the scene. She did not have the stench of the dead. Her bigger form would make for better nutrition too. She looked fit. He did quickly note the various weapons she harbored. She would be dangerous on a one to one fight and he didn't like it when the odds were against him. Humans however also hated the Varlfolk. This meant she would probably kill the one under the tree. The Varlfolk didn't go down easy so it would wear out the hunter. Regardless, one would end up dead and the other injured so his chances of success only increased. Why not let them kill each other and do the work for him? Patience feeds the belly, as his mother used to say.
Sleep would not come, but she still felt appreciative of the moment of rest-- eyes closed as her head leaned against the tree. Not entirely safe, but safer than she had been for months, sighing relief that she sorely needed. She tried to remember the last time she’d slept, the last time she’d felt the overwhelming need, but an inkling told her it hadn’t happened since the time of her death.
It was then that she caught the scent of something she had never smelled before, yet at once it seemed all too familiar. Blood. Her eyes opened, slow as her ears caught the rush of living blood running through veins. Something living was nearby-- possibly more than one. Humans, here? It couldn’t be. She’d never experienced this part of her new physiology before, but instinct was taking over. In a nigh animalistic way, she sniffed the air slowly, head cocking to the side as though to hear the blood better.
Adet rose to her feet, a large mace clutched in her hand as she looked out at the surrounding area. She was hidden from much of the chasm but in return, her overview was limited. She could almost her hear father’s voice wondering how she could have made such a rookie mistake.
“Who goes?” she asked.
It was then that she caught the scent of something she had never smelled before, yet at once it seemed all too familiar. Blood. Her eyes opened, slow as her ears caught the rush of living blood running through veins. Something living was nearby-- possibly more than one. Humans, here? It couldn’t be. She’d never experienced this part of her new physiology before, but instinct was taking over. In a nigh animalistic way, she sniffed the air slowly, head cocking to the side as though to hear the blood better.
Adet rose to her feet, a large mace clutched in her hand as she looked out at the surrounding area. She was hidden from much of the chasm but in return, her overview was limited. She could almost her hear father’s voice wondering how she could have made such a rookie mistake.
“Who goes?” she asked.
“Either your end, or your new best friend,” a raspy voice answered as Berenice emerged from the sparse foliage, a nicked, rusty, but wicked-looking knife pointed ahead of her.
“Nothin’ ‘bout you looks dead, girlie, what’re you doing smack dab in the middle of the world’s rear end?”
As she spoke, she slowly shifted to the side, scanning the surrounding terrain for stray rocks or protruding roots that might inconvenience either of them in a scuffle.
Adet turned her head toward the stranger, fingers tightening around the handle of her mace. Her shield still rested against the tree behind her, but she made no movement towards it as of yet. “That sounds an awful lot like you have a proposition,” she said at length. “As for my looks, give it time and I’m sure they’ll fade as much as the rest of my kin. Not a lot of people get to see us while our blood’s still fresh.”
This was definitely the living being she’d smelled-- although for a second she’d been certain there were more than one. Still, she was unused to her new instincts and might have counted wrong. “I can still hear the blood rushing in you, though. What are you doing in the undead’s chasm?”
This was definitely the living being she’d smelled-- although for a second she’d been certain there were more than one. Still, she was unused to her new instincts and might have counted wrong. “I can still hear the blood rushing in you, though. What are you doing in the undead’s chasm?”
“Lookin’ for people just like you,” came her hoarse reply. “Honestly I was startin’ to lose hope, thinkin’ all the talk of valrfolk with anythin’ but mush in their heads to be a damn lie.” She eyed the young woman over, from her bright and alert eyes to her feet planted solidly on the ground in a warrior’s stance.
“Y’might be the first deadling I’ve seen with her wits ‘bout her. Nary a shambler have I seen with naught to say but shrieks and gurgles.” She flicked her wrist, turning her knife in her hand before sliding it back in her belt. “I’ve traveled far, further than I’d like, to meet yer kind. To meet those among you the preachers say’ll bring ‘bout salvation for this realm.”
She strode over to a nearby boulder, leaning against it, arms crossed. “Y’heard of it? The old legend?”
Adet frowned, considering the stranger’s words. It was true the Valrfolk deteriorated quickly these days-- quicker still without aims in life, and being barred from entering most kingdoms certainly didn’t help. Her gaze flickered towards the prison,where she still remembered the stranger’s words. He’d spoken of the same tale she’d heard a thousand times from her childhood, but something in his demeanour had been far different from her nurse’s attempt at scaring small children to bed.
“Once or twice,” she said, pausing for a moment. It was a striking coincidence, finding someone of the same mind as her so quickly after her escape. It was, however, one she was willing to ignore-- after all, what better place to find someone in search of undeads than in the Valrcumb?
“You want to fulfill the prophecy?”
“Once or twice,” she said, pausing for a moment. It was a striking coincidence, finding someone of the same mind as her so quickly after her escape. It was, however, one she was willing to ignore-- after all, what better place to find someone in search of undeads than in the Valrcumb?
“You want to fulfill the prophecy?”
She was met with a solemn nod. “Growin’ up, I was told time and again how th’ world used to be better. How it wasn’t always a steamin’ pile of dung. The belief that there’s a way to make it better, it’s helped me through some dark times.”
She paused for a moment. “From dyin’ soil, a seedling might yet emerge,” she said, absently, her eyes seeking some faraway sight. Then, her gaze fell upon Adet, and she frowned, as if the young lass had rudely interrupted her musings by simply being there.
“The short’n sweet of it, girlie, is that yer kind somehow holds the key to the light. How, I wouldn’t know, but what I do know fer sure is that I need someone like you. Someone like you to come with me, to find wherever this light might be hidin’, and bringin’ it back to this piss-pit of a world.”
Berenice hocked a massive loogie to the side before regarding Adet again with a crooked half-smile. “Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be, eh?”
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✦Nezi'rel✦
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Dinner was talking. Humans did have that nasty habit. They always liked to talk and talk and talk. It was like they had some urge to make sure they sounded so grand before they ended up with their heads cut off. He'd never understand why the humans prolonged their end. In a moment, it wouldn't matter anyway and the person that killed you wasn't going to care what your last words were. He just wanted them to get on with it. He was hungry. Maybe in the end he'd help the flesh bag kill the un-dead thing and then just eat her. It would certainly make things quicker and anything that the un-dead bit tasted awful. He'd rather eat the lively one before the dead one got her grips on her.
Or, or maybe he could kill the dead girl and pretend to friend the human. That way the two of them would travel away from this place. He'd have back up in a dire situation and then if he found himself without food, he'd have a meal to keep him going till he found greener pastures. Perfect! He did so hate packing up meat and saving it and then having it go bad or losing all sense of taste. He loved his meals hot and juicy. Nezi'rel's mouth watered at the idea of a walking food storage. And humans were good at finding other humans and dead things, and they could go into human towns to get more food. More and more this was sounding like a win all around for him.
Before he could pounce and enact his plan however, something in their babbling caught his attention. They were talking about the old legend? He may have spent most of his time in the forest, but he'd heard the prophecy when among the humans. The Varlfolk were supposed to be able to change this world into something better, without the fear of other Varlfolk wandering about. Could this really be possible? He'd always dismissed it as human fancy but... what if it was true? He'd never seen one of the Varlfolk this talkative or aware. What if it was more than fancy? What if they could bring back the light and stop the spread of the Varlfolk? He didn't particularly care about humans, but without the Varlfolk, there would be more animals about and humans would travel more which would make them easy bites. He wouldn't have to worry about the Varlfolk nibbling on his tail either.
And if he thought about it, going with them would provide him a level of protection. He still wanted to search for others of his kind. What better way to search than in numbers? He'd be able to go to places he would otherwise be unable to traverse himself. They could prove quite useful. And hunting as a pack was always better than hunting alone. He didn't really like the idea of trusting a human and a Varlfolk woman, but if this worked out, it could lead to far more advantages. And if in the end the dead woman lost her senses and died before the mission could complete itself, well, he'd eat the human like he originally planned and just be on his way. He was planning on leaving this place anyway.
Nezi'rel couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe he was going to trust them enough to travel with them, but here went nothing. He took a steadying breath then before he made his presence known in the tree. He didn't come down just yet. He had the advantage in the tree and though he was going to ally with them, he wasn't stupid. He wanted a deal made before he came down. He made sure his cloak covered his face and tail so they wouldn't see him for what he was. The rest of his garb was form fitting and he looked like just any other regular man.
"If you are going to travel to fulfill the prophecy of Light, I would wish to join you as well," he called to the women. "I am sure there will be plenty of danger and though you both look formidable, you'll need an extra pair of hands. I would hate for you to go on this wonderful quest only to die because you were swarmed by enemies." Even with three it was a gamble, but at least he'd be able to offer assistance in stealth and hopefully avoid most dangers.
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Dinner was talking. Humans did have that nasty habit. They always liked to talk and talk and talk. It was like they had some urge to make sure they sounded so grand before they ended up with their heads cut off. He'd never understand why the humans prolonged their end. In a moment, it wouldn't matter anyway and the person that killed you wasn't going to care what your last words were. He just wanted them to get on with it. He was hungry. Maybe in the end he'd help the flesh bag kill the un-dead thing and then just eat her. It would certainly make things quicker and anything that the un-dead bit tasted awful. He'd rather eat the lively one before the dead one got her grips on her.
Or, or maybe he could kill the dead girl and pretend to friend the human. That way the two of them would travel away from this place. He'd have back up in a dire situation and then if he found himself without food, he'd have a meal to keep him going till he found greener pastures. Perfect! He did so hate packing up meat and saving it and then having it go bad or losing all sense of taste. He loved his meals hot and juicy. Nezi'rel's mouth watered at the idea of a walking food storage. And humans were good at finding other humans and dead things, and they could go into human towns to get more food. More and more this was sounding like a win all around for him.
Before he could pounce and enact his plan however, something in their babbling caught his attention. They were talking about the old legend? He may have spent most of his time in the forest, but he'd heard the prophecy when among the humans. The Varlfolk were supposed to be able to change this world into something better, without the fear of other Varlfolk wandering about. Could this really be possible? He'd always dismissed it as human fancy but... what if it was true? He'd never seen one of the Varlfolk this talkative or aware. What if it was more than fancy? What if they could bring back the light and stop the spread of the Varlfolk? He didn't particularly care about humans, but without the Varlfolk, there would be more animals about and humans would travel more which would make them easy bites. He wouldn't have to worry about the Varlfolk nibbling on his tail either.
And if he thought about it, going with them would provide him a level of protection. He still wanted to search for others of his kind. What better way to search than in numbers? He'd be able to go to places he would otherwise be unable to traverse himself. They could prove quite useful. And hunting as a pack was always better than hunting alone. He didn't really like the idea of trusting a human and a Varlfolk woman, but if this worked out, it could lead to far more advantages. And if in the end the dead woman lost her senses and died before the mission could complete itself, well, he'd eat the human like he originally planned and just be on his way. He was planning on leaving this place anyway.
Nezi'rel couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe he was going to trust them enough to travel with them, but here went nothing. He took a steadying breath then before he made his presence known in the tree. He didn't come down just yet. He had the advantage in the tree and though he was going to ally with them, he wasn't stupid. He wanted a deal made before he came down. He made sure his cloak covered his face and tail so they wouldn't see him for what he was. The rest of his garb was form fitting and he looked like just any other regular man.
"If you are going to travel to fulfill the prophecy of Light, I would wish to join you as well," he called to the women. "I am sure there will be plenty of danger and though you both look formidable, you'll need an extra pair of hands. I would hate for you to go on this wonderful quest only to die because you were swarmed by enemies." Even with three it was a gamble, but at least he'd be able to offer assistance in stealth and hopefully avoid most dangers.
In less than a moment, the rusted old blade was in Berenice's hand, and she hunched down as if to pounce right up there to violently greet whatever unseen creature spoke to them. The words, or rather, the fact that they were words - not just guttural growls and moans, prevented her from doing anything rash however.
Her eyes sought his form amongst the branches. There, a vague shape, wreathed in cloth. He hid well, her trained eyes and ears, distracted though they were, had not detected his approach. Or had he been there all along, waiting?
"And who be ye, who offers us this boon from hidin'? Mind y'that I'm not impartial to numbers that'll bolster our chances, but I'll want a name from y'before I offer spit'n palms."
Remembering her female companion though, her gaze went to Adet, eyes narrowing. "An' speakin' of, I don't think I got yer name either. Berenice, y'can call me by."
The dull knife slid back into its resting place, but her hand kept near its worn handle.
Her eyes sought his form amongst the branches. There, a vague shape, wreathed in cloth. He hid well, her trained eyes and ears, distracted though they were, had not detected his approach. Or had he been there all along, waiting?
"And who be ye, who offers us this boon from hidin'? Mind y'that I'm not impartial to numbers that'll bolster our chances, but I'll want a name from y'before I offer spit'n palms."
Remembering her female companion though, her gaze went to Adet, eyes narrowing. "An' speakin' of, I don't think I got yer name either. Berenice, y'can call me by."
The dull knife slid back into its resting place, but her hand kept near its worn handle.
Adet had paused, looking for a moment at the older woman as if seeing her for the first time. It was hard not to believe in the legends, particularly when the physical evidence of them could be found so close to your doorstep. For most of her life, all Adet had to do to be reminded of the undead plague was to look in the mirror. In many ways, the curse had seemed far more real while she was alive- since her death, she'd only been able to think about her revenge on the living.
She had only even considered bringing the light back as a step to a larger plan. In retrospect, she had to admit that rewinding the clock on a dying world had its own merits. So she returned Berenice's smile, hesitant trust and a glint of humour in her expression as she nodded.
Before she could answer, another voice called to them. Adet raised her brow, looking for the source of sound and resting on the obscured creature in the trees. It seemed her original headcount had been correct- perhaps she ought to trust her instincts more. She looked to Berenice and answered, "Adet of Bellbrisborg," then, as an afterthought, "Under the circumstances, 'Adet' will do. Pleasure."
Her hand had not left the large mace by her side, and she leaned her weight against it as she looked back up towards the figure in wait for his reply. "A name," she agreed, "and a face to go with it, would be nice."
She had only even considered bringing the light back as a step to a larger plan. In retrospect, she had to admit that rewinding the clock on a dying world had its own merits. So she returned Berenice's smile, hesitant trust and a glint of humour in her expression as she nodded.
Before she could answer, another voice called to them. Adet raised her brow, looking for the source of sound and resting on the obscured creature in the trees. It seemed her original headcount had been correct- perhaps she ought to trust her instincts more. She looked to Berenice and answered, "Adet of Bellbrisborg," then, as an afterthought, "Under the circumstances, 'Adet' will do. Pleasure."
Her hand had not left the large mace by her side, and she leaned her weight against it as she looked back up towards the figure in wait for his reply. "A name," she agreed, "and a face to go with it, would be nice."
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✦Nezi'rel✦
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Nezi'rel tensed when the larger warrior female took up her defense stance. He really did not like being outnumbered here but, if he wanted to gain anything, he was going to have to take some risks. He wasn't going to come down from the tree however. Things were tense and if the humans decided he was not welcome, he did not want to be grounded. His eyes darted between the two, gaze lingering on the weapons they held. The stance was relaxed but he was a fighter himself; that stance wasn't lazy. They could both quickly become offensive and strike without a second thought. Whelp, might as well get on with the introductions.
"Nezi'rel is my name," he answered with a touch of a growl on the syllables. He would be astonished if the humans could pronounce it with the right amount of growl and lilt. He reached up and pushed the hood away from his face to allow his potential allies to see him. He was thankful he looked mostly human and what didn't look human he could hide. He had a boyish face, his wide set eyes and the soft roundness of his features added to the assumption of youth. He didn't look much older than 20 in human terms though he was much older. His dark hair sported various hues of blue feathers in such a way it looked like the feathers were woven into the hair itself. Thread and beads he'd added to it, making it an intricate and exotic look easily passed off as a tribal. It was perfect for hiding the fact that the feathers were a natural part of him and were growing out of his head.
The cloak he wore hid his tail where he now wrapped it around his waist like a belt. The cloak hid the feathers on his arms but he'd remind himself to bind the feather closer to his arms to wear more fitted clothing since cloaks were not going to be useful during their journey. He was going to feel stiff and achy, but with all his precautions, he'd appear like any human lad until someone stripped him of all clothes, and he wasn't about to let the humans get close enough to even try. At his sides, he carried two long daggers with blades fashioned into crescent moons. Strapped beneath his forearms were a second pair straight daggers for surprise attacks should he have little other defenses. Though he preferred his natural claws, these were close enough to his natural defenses to make them easy to work with and he'd learned that picking up how to fight as a human came in handy. Didn't hurt to have back up and if he could fight as a human, he'd never have to give up what exactly he was until the time was right.
"Neither of you seem overly subtle, no offense, so I offer my assistance in stealth. What say you to the idea?"
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Nezi'rel tensed when the larger warrior female took up her defense stance. He really did not like being outnumbered here but, if he wanted to gain anything, he was going to have to take some risks. He wasn't going to come down from the tree however. Things were tense and if the humans decided he was not welcome, he did not want to be grounded. His eyes darted between the two, gaze lingering on the weapons they held. The stance was relaxed but he was a fighter himself; that stance wasn't lazy. They could both quickly become offensive and strike without a second thought. Whelp, might as well get on with the introductions.
"Nezi'rel is my name," he answered with a touch of a growl on the syllables. He would be astonished if the humans could pronounce it with the right amount of growl and lilt. He reached up and pushed the hood away from his face to allow his potential allies to see him. He was thankful he looked mostly human and what didn't look human he could hide. He had a boyish face, his wide set eyes and the soft roundness of his features added to the assumption of youth. He didn't look much older than 20 in human terms though he was much older. His dark hair sported various hues of blue feathers in such a way it looked like the feathers were woven into the hair itself. Thread and beads he'd added to it, making it an intricate and exotic look easily passed off as a tribal. It was perfect for hiding the fact that the feathers were a natural part of him and were growing out of his head.
The cloak he wore hid his tail where he now wrapped it around his waist like a belt. The cloak hid the feathers on his arms but he'd remind himself to bind the feather closer to his arms to wear more fitted clothing since cloaks were not going to be useful during their journey. He was going to feel stiff and achy, but with all his precautions, he'd appear like any human lad until someone stripped him of all clothes, and he wasn't about to let the humans get close enough to even try. At his sides, he carried two long daggers with blades fashioned into crescent moons. Strapped beneath his forearms were a second pair straight daggers for surprise attacks should he have little other defenses. Though he preferred his natural claws, these were close enough to his natural defenses to make them easy to work with and he'd learned that picking up how to fight as a human came in handy. Didn't hurt to have back up and if he could fight as a human, he'd never have to give up what exactly he was until the time was right.
"Neither of you seem overly subtle, no offense, so I offer my assistance in stealth. What say you to the idea?"
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