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 The Dragons Field. 
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Jan 29, 2003 12:12 pm
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Post The Dragons Field.
The sky, appears calm as night. Black as it, as well. The earth, has a certain feel to it. A feel of combat, and of death. Corpses, are seen littering the blood soaked ground, ones with heads missing, others with the simplest of a stomach wound. The oddity, if it wasn't odd enough already, are the bodies. Not in what would be thought of as a War type formation. They seem positioned, almost in a maze, of some sort. As the path is followed, the bodies seem to begin to be impaled. Everything from a Droben, to an Elemental.

Yet, as one continues the path, they only see more. There is no break, as it would appear there is a truley tortured soul at the end of this sick sad labrynth. Looking back, one would think of running, but then again, whatever creature did all this, could you possibly esace them? Could you possibly defeat, the monster that has defeaten and humiliated so many brave warriors and magicians before you? Running, gives not the answer to the question. But it is here you must make your Decission.

Do You Continue along the bloody trail of blood, with Impaled bodies serving as your walls.

Or

Do you turn, and run. Hide, and live another day for sure. Perhaps, whatever monstrousity that performed these hideous acts, has not noticed you yet.

(Scenario for Runners)Having decided enough, you ran. Quit simply, you ran like a girl. Almost screaming, and tripping over the corpses. But, yes you lived. The Mighty creature in the center of this sick labrynth, over looked you. Finding your running quite amusing.

(Now for the Continuers) Continuing, along the path bravely, you come to a wall of corpses. Quickly, the body falls and a path is revealed. A path quite extraordinary, by the fact it is actually lit and corpse free. The path seems to wind, down, down into the earth. Further and further one must travel. Yet, you come to a set of golden doors. Another thing, that makes you raise your brow in question. But then again, has anything on this morbid Journey been Normal? Pushing, Shoving, kicking and hitting, nothing seems to barge these doors. Untill...

Suddenly they spring open! As if by some unseen force, you see a path, over a river of flames. At the end, are two shrines. One has a Dragon figure, perched supremly. Looking casually about, the Dragon is seen. His eyes, lock suddenly on you. As his voice booms.


What brings you hear, state your wish, mortal. If I feel the need, or think I can complete it, it shall be done. If you wish conversation, then speak freely


Thu Jan 30, 2003 6:53 pm
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Stablehand
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Joined: Mon Jan 20, 2003 10:43 pm
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The range of carnage, bloodied corpses with their innards spread messily upon the grounds - some locked in the vicelike grip of the greatest incarnation, that of Death - and yet others, struggling weakly, vainly, to free themsleves from the horrid clutches that sought e'er more to rip the life from their tortured, eviscerated bodies.

The killing fields seemed to spread endlessly before the single, berobed figure. The shimmering velvet colour of her garment cast an eerie glow over the blood soaked, dark earth all about her as she peered across the endless fields, searching for the perpetrator of this massacre. In her mind, it could be one of two things. Something that must be destroyed, or reunited, and whatever the answer, she would not be led astray by a field full of mouldering bodies, set there for no other reason than to cause disheartening thoughts, and to bring fear. She knew, not even the mightiest of the Mahriel would have been able to fell so many at a single time, and that these pathetic remains were that of individuals, or perhaps, parties of people, that had challenged something.

She raised her crimson coloured eyes to a strange outcrop - one she recognized well, for 'twas both the enterance to the underworld, and also the enterance to a tomb. Perhaps a tomb for a grand number, and even though he was not there, and she knew this to be true, she still ached at the thought of going near that which the Mahriel held sacred - the afterworld, the place beyond life.

Her staff dropped squarely into the half rotted corpse of a man, still clutching at a scorched and rusted shield, and the broken sword that had been his. THe sharpened tip of her warstave sank deeply into his yielding flesh, black corruption welling up where the staff entered, and, with the sickening sound of wrought metal, as it slid from the wound upon the deadman that it had inflicted.

She stepped warily, avoiding the more obviously dead ones - those who had been there for perhaps a very long time, and were currently in a severe case of decay. robes flowed about her, yet no matter how close she came to them, the would not touch the rotteness.

She leapt over a final corpse and started into those whom had been impaled, their bodily fluid dripping into puddles of foul smelling filth below each of their speared bodies - a good many of them on their own weapons, yet others on whatever might have been handy for whoever's handy work this was. Talons of the firiest red rubbed her warstaff in perplexed thought...yet she pushed onward, passing straight betwixt the bars of wood and steel, and the intermingling corpses of the damned.

The enterance to the shrine was not that all fired far away - perhaps it was not one of the myriad of enterances to the ancient Mahriel cities and underground trade routes, nor to its safe place from the humans and overworlders. As she approached it, the smell of death seemed to lift away, and was replaced by a hot draft of firey air - she felt her skin prickle at the welcome feeling of the heat. Her thoughts drifted to the firey pools in the deeps that she had once enjoyed...and, even then, those had cooled and hardened as solid rock. This was an open furnace. This was not a way down to the deeps, nor would it be near any of the primary passages, for those passages were bored through stone that was cool to the touch, and the miners - slaves stolen from the surface - had been very careful indeed as to not get to close to those molten veins of rock, else they would be incinerated. They, and where ever they had come from, with them.

She stepped onto the cool stone floor, and began the methodic passage of the deep, unassisted by light - the Mahriel were, afterall, a subterranean culture, and developed with only the most meager of light to work with. The air became progressively hotter with each tap of her staff to stone. Abruptly, however, the cavern came to a halt before a pair of garish, wasteful golden doors. They were soft to the touch, as well as hot, for this was beneath the isle, where her fires burned hottest and most relentlessly.

The doors opened without warning, and the dark passage was assaulted by firey red light. Rei was forced to shield her eyes, for they had grown accustomed to the dark, and it was quite a shock having light of this greatness forced upon her when she was unready.

Without awaiting invitiation, she proceeded to cross the portal, entering a vast chamber filled with the yellowish orange light of Maxim's fires. She espied the two shrines rightly enough, but failed to see the dragon at all...

"Nefer - are you here?" She asked, without convcition that this would in fact be true. The flames danced beneath her, and the warmth it granted was exceptionally welcome.

Then the words rolled over her, in the thick, sibilant tongue that dragons often used when they addresses species they considered lesser than themselves. Rei whirled about to find the great beast looking at her, its eyes locked firmly upon her place upon the narrow stone bridge.

"Ah - one of the kindered as I had hoped, yet not of my clan I see. Though, pray watch the way you use the word mortal until you have proof that such is the case, lizard."

She sighed, and then let her own gaze fall, and affix itself on the great beast. Those crimson eyes seemed to see through, around, and inside, crushing the seals of the supposedly immortal as if they were nothing but matchsticks. Wether or not this beast was immortal or not was unimportant. She had made her decision as to what would need to be done about such a massive force of raw destruction, let alone arrogance. It would need to be destroyed, and she mused, if she destroyed it, then it would be all to easy to destroy everything else, just as she hoped to succeed in. Without breakign her gaze, she made a wide motion around her, and grinned nastily.

"It seems, serpent, that you have managed to pierce the outter shell of the ancient and long thought lost civilization of the Mahriel - my people. You not only infringe upon my rights of ownership, being the sole survivor of the ancients, but you also insult me with such petty terms as mortal. You have also slain many, without giving me the honor of accompanying one of the kindred in the task, and that erks me greatly. Care to explain, lizard, or must I find less pleasent ways of dealing with you?"

Her rhumy eyes glanced throughout the room, surveying what she had thought would be here. Indeed, there was an ancient passage coming from one of the further walls, but it was small - maybe with distance, maybe partially blocked up by this pesky fire breathing lizard...

Her awakening to the overworld had not been too long. She desired action - and as much as she could get. Riling up and seemingly ancient, though more than likely and adolescent, dragon, would prove to be3 of soem amusement....at least, for an hour or so.

_________________
Doesn't work well with others.
How about a nice cup of shut the fuck up?


Thu Jan 30, 2003 9:36 pm
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Stablehand
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The eyes of the beast, seemed to glimmer for a moment from the mocking of the creature. Sitting still obviously not concerned, or was he hiding his fears? His eyes, locked, solid, on the female creature. His talons, began to tap idely on the edge of the throne.

Sitting, he appeared 20 feet, easily, without fully extending. His voice boomed, bouncing from the walls intentionally.

Mortality, is judged loosely. The ability to die, would be deemed mortality. There for, you're still Mortal. Everyone has their maker, or their match. Even your kind, Mahriel, had their match. As, you may notice. There is no one named Nefer. I am Doragon Shoro, I own this land, after evacuating its former tenants. If you wish to find those who owned, this land, prior, if you could call it owning, then leave up the stairs and look to the left. There, with the heads impaled upon the wood, they are. Not Mahriel, that kind I must admit, that kind has not been seen for many of years.

I explain nothing, that I do not wish, and tell all that I do. Have you a wish, you have to be granted, or an answer you must seek? Or have you come, to simply annoy me with the past story of an ancient dieing race? State your buisness, now.


The eyes of the beast, seemingly glows red, as the massive doors behind her slam closed. There is no visible latch on the inside, only very detailed drawings of some sort of winged beast above a land, and fire raining down from upon the sky on the right. The beast seems, mightily similar to Doragon. On the left, is a dragon, with his left Talons open and beckoning, the land seemingly growing and reviving from it.

The odd picture, leaves many questions open to the mind. Such as "Is that destoryer, this beast?" "If so, then who is on the other door." The beast, seems patient, but why test good luck? Perhaps he is not as strong, as it would appear, perhaps he is a simple beast looking for the same as every other. A mate, whelps, the whole deal. But then again, what if he cares not, or has these things?

The dragon shuffles, out of his throne, standing a massively fifty feet tall. His head, still but feet from the top of the ceeling. His tail, swayed behind him patiently, as he walked over to a shelf. Atop of it, was a chest. Rather normal to a small being, but tiny to this massive one. He plucked it, and turned. The chest seemingly floated, before the female. As he sat back to his seat.

These are the possessions of those that where here. I have no need for them. There are spell books, of some nature, as well as a few enchanted blades. They have no use to me, take them as you wish or leave them to the river of fire. I do not care.

His eyes flashed again, as the doors opened but a crack, enough for anyone to escape if they wished, or another to join, have they the need. He idely taps on his massive leg, eyes un focused, rarely paying the attention.

_________________
[center]The wings are open,
The Embrace is warm.
The Fire is Chaos,
The Dragon rests.
[/center]


Fri Jan 31, 2003 11:05 am
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Stablehand
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The woman merely stared impassively at the massive beast, taking in its dimensions, andshowing only the slightest signs of dissapointment. The great ancients - the wyrms fo legend - were so large that, while they rested away the ages, betwixt the occasional snack, they formed mountain ranges. This one was abrely past adolecence, if she was to be any judge - and arrogant, as well.

Turning her back upon the beast, she walked over to the door, and examined the etchings within. The were pointless - in of themselves, they meant nothing. Dragons, in her experience, were givers and takers of life. It depended on their mood. And if they were hungry. She traced the lines of one of the beast emblezoned upon the door, and shook her head in distaste, chuckling a faint, eerie sound. Everything about her was eerie and unreal.

"Ah, yes....mortality. Such a fleeting concept. I believe, yes, time has a great deal to do with mortality, more than does being able to die. And you, lizard, are certainly capable of death. Perhaps not by the petty hand of time, nro by that of some weak human or suchlike, but were it the gods came down and struck their wrath upon you, you would be as a greasy smear upon the ground. And there are others, who would wish your destruction for the simple fact that you are of the mythical race."

She turned on him suddenly, and grinned maniacly. Madness glittered in the depths of those burnished, bloody colored eyes. Without a word, she opened the chest - not by use of her hands, merely by spoken word. Inside were the exact contents that the dragon had said would be there - but their were of paltry value. They would not even pay for the trip back up the steps, and besides, enchanted blades were exceptionally common, what was rare was normal, everyday steel.

The lid to the trunk slammed shut, and she stared coldly into those reptilian eyes, full of interest now.

"But were you of a greater age, and capable of the magicks required to cast magics of such magnitude...would I have had you brought the peoples of the Mahriel back. But they are six thousand years dead. I believe that is the overworld equivilent of my time of remorse, locked in the deeps of the earth where you would tremble to go. No...no, you could not bring even one of them back, my beloved, let alone the whole lot. I have found this whole excursion to be a waste of my time. I was hoping at least to discover something of value as to the final days of the Mahriel, as I was sealed inside the temple. But you are not even half the age since that war. I doubt you to be much beyond a thousand, and certainly not six."

She raised the war stave from the ground, her glistening, crimson talons gleaming in the firey light.

"However...I do propose one question. And that is, do you think you could best me in combat? The reward would be simple enough - you win, and I rejoin my people. I win, and you go screaming to hell, and you can think of it as getting there before the rush. I do not like dragons, and I have my own reasons. Finding one so garishly displaying himself to the world in general erks me, and the fact that you show absolutley no emotion when you speak of the Mahriel - your species and ours were as brother and sister before you sold out to the humans and other weakling races. Your were nothing but a bunch of murderers, who sought only what would be best for your kindered. The Mahriel are dead. They are not dieing. They are dead, six thousand years dead, and though I know that the blood of my people is not upon your dirty soul, that of your race is. Crime enough for me. In the end, I would have destroyed you with the rest of the overworlders. Do me a favor, and yield to death now. It will be a lot more restful for you, assuredly."

_________________
Doesn't work well with others.
How about a nice cup of shut the fuck up?


Fri Jan 31, 2003 10:48 pm
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The Beasts eyes seemed to glow for a moment, not in anger, not in spell, but merely in amusement. His eyes followed her movements, as he watched the trunk be opened and looked through by a motion of words, in fact, he found this quite amusing. Her hatred for overwolders, yet her use of magics by word? Quite the overworld, thing to do. He chuckled softly, as his eyes yet agian scanned over the woman.

Mortality, is much judged by the ability to die. By a hand or another. I have never claimed immunity from being unwound, but my immunity is that once I pass, it is mearly to another plane of being, if not back to this one yet again. For one who knows so much, have you not the knowledge that even if the body dies, our very 'soul' shall live on. The gods made us, much like any other creature, we keep a balance, and make them honorable. Let the gods come, and tell me that I have failed, and I shall move on, with ease. Many wish my death, many have tried.

His eyes, need not flash, as the trunk dropped upon the ground, in front of her. As he noticed her lack of intrest, the trunk fell into the river of flames. His eyes, locked on her, still finding her amusing. He listens, very calmly to each of her words.

My age, but what is in my age? For the incarnation of this body may come and go but the soul is the true test of time. No, I am not capable of bringing your entire race back. That would defeat, the purpose of death. Do not think, of my power, untill you know of it. My form, does not show my age, but the size of my dwelling for the moment. It is more peacefull, to sleep here, to keep size in tact, and to watch from my throne, than to sit atop the earth and put up with the ramblings of the random poets, or the challenges of the guards. I will not fight, over my age, for what is the use. My power does grow, with age, as of all my kind. That I shalln't deny.

His massive claw, raises for a moment, turning palm face up. A single talon motions her foreward.

Why shall we fight? You gain what, the victory to rejoin your people. There are other ways to go about your goal, of raising the dead. You but need to ask how, rather than provoke, and perhaps your loved ones may rejoin you. Or new ones, of which you can lead, in your petty act of revenge. I did not ask, what you think of my kind, and frankly I care not. This is a field, of Wishes and Dreams, to find the answers to each question one may have. I bear no emotion, to any kind, From the Droben, to the Human, they matter not equally. My kind did not sell out, we protected those in the need of it. Yours, quite literally grew to large for their own good. As the story is told, your kind had quite the arrogance problem. My kind, kept the balance, and fought with who needed it. I did not fight, the battles, nor see them. As my age, is not of 6,000 years. Mut we fight? IF YOu win, Yes, my soul moves on. But, what when the power is released from this coil? Shall you survive it? Hardly. You would be buried alive, and kept enshrined again. If I win? I get to relive what my kind, did to yours and kill you. Why, do you not ask what you wish? To find out HOW to bring your own back. Perhaps this love of yours, wishes to rejoin you? If his soul, is willing to return to you, I CAN bring him back. But then again, perhaps you wish not to know if the love was truely shared. Perhaps you like the idea, of being the only one. Never wondering, what if?

His eyes seem to flash, as her form should be lifted from the ground, more so that she can be seen without hunching over.

If you wish your mate, to rejoin you, then simply ask. If his soul, wishes to rejoin you, it will, if not then perhaps your love was not as true as you thought? Personally, I would be most amused, to find if he wishes to come back or not. If he wishes, he may be brought back. ((OOC: Meaning, if you have a player to play him he can be brought back, afterall Out of Characterly, I can't force anyone to play if they wish not :P)) Or, would you rahter learn of how to revive several of your kind? If we were supposed to fight, we would be in combat now. There is something greater, for us to accomplish.

His eyes flash, yet again as she is gently placed down on the bridge before him. His eyes close for a moment, in relaxing. And open again.

So this is one of them. I have heard stories, of them, but never met one quite as ready to die or kill as this one. Perhaps she is the one, to bring a dieing, not dead, race back from the end.

He thought, deep in his mind, where he doubts anyone would be able to 'read'

_________________
[center]The wings are open,
The Embrace is warm.
The Fire is Chaos,
The Dragon rests.
[/center]


Sun Feb 02, 2003 12:12 am
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