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The New Frontier

13

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  • Rye pressed herself against Bolt's thick neck, the wind whipping through the few dark strands of hair that managed to escape the knot she had pulled it into in the morning. She didn't need to worry about Bolt tripping over any roots; he was a smart horse, and he'd had his fair share of fast getaways. 

    Rye began formulating a plan as Bolt continued along the dirt path. It was extremely likely the elves could hear Bolt's hoofbeats as she continued her gallop away from them, so she needed to stop as soon as she could. Then she needed to make her way off the path and as deep into the trees as she could go, then hope that the elves wouldn't find her. It seemed like a reasonable enough plan, and even if she could probably think up at least twenty better ideas, there wasn't enough time to work out details. There was also the fact that she didn't know elves very well, even with her extensive knowledge of the world outside of the perfect castle life, or the humble - rather boring - life of a simple farmer. 

    Bringing Bolt to a canter, Rye sat up a little from her saddle and quickly scanned her surroundings. They were still on the dirt path, but the trees around her were still as thick as ever, and the brush covered almost everything except for the dirt path. It was well shaded here, and as the light turned just the tiniest bit darker, the shadows did too. If she could travel just a wee bit longer, but at a slower pace, she might be able to hide Bolt's hoof marks and make her way off the path without letting the elves know the exact point where she left the path. Granted, they probably had their ways of knowing, but it would be dark soon, but there was that tiny glimmer of hope that it would make it just a little harder for them. 

    She nudged Bolt with her right knee and Bolt slowed from a canter to a cautious trot. His head twisted and turned constantly as he tried to find the best place to step so as to not leave any hoofmarks, and after moving a few extra hundred metres, Rye tugged lightly on Bolt's mane, a signal for him to veer whichever direction she tugged his mane. The woods were just a hint thicker to the right, so figuring it would be easier to conceal herself in thicker bush, Rye went for the thicker side. She knew it would also make it harder for Bolt to find places to step in where it wouldn't leave a prominent print, but he would make it work. She knew he would.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • The sound of hooves alert Mick and his crew of incoming danger.  They release several arrows in their direction.  They hear a whinnying as some found a target.  Silence soon follows after.  Straining their ears for the slightest bit of noise Mick and his crew were caught unawares as something burst out of the brush directly at him.

    ====================================================================================

    Flame erupted around the clearing as slowly Jane raises to her feet.  The rhythmic voice returning to her.  "Left your blade."  Ice feels Jane's veins. "Find those who has bond me."  Jane grip the pummel of her sword so tight, blood start to drip down it.  "Burn them.  Burn them all."  Fighting against it Jane pulls herself away from the forest and the fleeing elves.  She leans against the pillar, which silently start to burn from an internal infernal.

    Rage fills the rhythmic voice.  "If you not willing, then I will have to do it myself." 

  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    The sky darkened as night approaches. I lead Sher off the path and we duck out heads under the trees. Night is where we work the worst. Under the cover of darkness, our white uniforms stand out like the sorest of thumbs, and despite all our training in stealth there was simply no avoiding the fact. I had the vague idea to cover our shirts and cloaks with mud, but the elves, who had long since killed the last of the guards, didn't give us a chance of respite. So, the last option left seem to be running through the duster part of the forest and hope that the mud from the recent rain had not dried as of yet.
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

  • The flame exploded in Dougal's inner vision again as Jane approached the central pillar of this mist-hypnotized clearing; flame encircling her, swirling around her, seeming to draw from both her and the black basalt pillar she was approaching; yet as he watched closer, he saw a subtle difference; now there were two intermixed shades of flame.  The lighter, the one that seemed to proceed more from Jane than the pillar, was weaving threads and fingers through the other, then expanding, pushing it away from her and trying to drive it into the pillar: but the lashing tentacles of dark flame were too strong for that, kept bursting forth from the stone in a new place just as the light fire was about to lock it in.  Unlike the other times, though, he had absolutely no intuition what to do about the situation.  "One thing at a time.," he muttered, and closed out Tam Lin with a wild burst of triumphant and mocking chant that resulted at first in absolute dead silence.  Then, slowly, a ripple of sobs began to echo from nearby trees as the elven folk reflected on the changeling that the Faerie Host lost that Samhain night.  The ring of weeping and lamentations seemed to sweep outward until Dougal almost felt like every elf, Fachan, pixie, Buachaileen. Gruagach, and faerie within earshot was setting up such a dismal keen and caterwauling that he began to wonder if he'd done wisely in stirring up such a godsforsaken din.  At least most of them would probably be too convulsed with weeping to pepper anyone with arrows.  There did seem to be the noise of a fading volley of archery perhaps a few hundred yards to the east, near where the trail bent away from the riverbank to take its own meandering way southeast; the squealing whinny of an arrow-pricked stallion had Dougal straining his ears for a few moments before it faded out to silence, a fact which was even more interesting: sound quality of the squeals = powerful horse. speed of fading to silence = phenomenally well trained.  He kept an ear cocked in that direction as he turned back to Jane.  The only thing he could think of to do there was to sing one of the old sagas in the way barrds first sang them, and for the same purpose, to inspire courage and strength in battle: that this battle was taking place on a more metaphysical plane than most of the old ones was. Dougal thought, fairly immaterial (pun intended).

    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • Rye almost cursed out loud as Bolt rocked to the side slightly, letting out a surprised whinny that sounded like a group of the loudest trumpets ever made from the top of a very, very large hill, in the fairly quiet woods around them. Bolt quieted down almost immediately, and after a thorough search for the cause of disruption, Rye spotted the arrow embedded into the fleshier part of Bolt's side.

    She wanted to storm over to whoever had injured her beloved stallion, slice all their limbs off, throw them into a fire, and laugh a laugh of vengeance as they burned alive, but she managed to keep her sadistic side under control for long enough to note that Bolt had been slightly angled away and the arrow had only grazed his side. Then she felt like letting out a relieved sigh when she saw that not even the entire arrowhead had pierced her horse's flesh.

    Bolt stood stock still, probably restricting his movement so as to relieve himself of some pain, but Rye didn't relent, knowing that Bolt's whinny had likely alerted any surrounding creatures or humans to where she was. She nudged his uninjured side, and directed him through a small grove of trees, towards a more spacious area where she could pry the arrow off and do her best to get her horse onto the path of healing.

    She was going to murder whoever slowed her way out of the forest.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • JackelKight (US1)JackelKight (US1) Posts: 533
    edited 29.11.2015

    (Okay changed it to match up grace.  sorry thought that where you were going to head anyways.  By the way like the new name.)

    An elven rider bares down on Mick.  Dodging out of the way of its long blade Mick hits the ground hard.  His crew let loss several bolts.  The rider and its stead manage to avoid them as they turn around.  Mick raises to his feet to great it.

    ======================================================================================

    Jane's mind focus all its energy against the overwhelming presence that is trying to occupy her.  Just as she thinks she have it pushed away it comes at her again from a different angle.  It seems to be laughing at her as she spends her energy fighting it.  Exhaustion feels her.  Her legs collapses under her.  The magical blade slips from her fingers.  In the distance Jane can hear an old tune being played.  That was the last she knew before a raging infernal engulfed her.

    Post edited by JackelKight (US1) on
  • I never burst into that clearing of yours. Please don't control my character. I'll just continue on as I was, shall I?

    As soon as she reached the small clearing she was headed for, and was sure that she couldn't see the original area where Bolt had been hit, Rye slipped her boot-clad feet out of the stirrups and hurriedly dismounted. Her boots only made the smallest of noises on the forest floor as she landed, her eyes flickering left to right with her search around for any enemies. She made a gesture to Bolt that was equivalent to telling him to wait, before patrolling the area, searching for anyone that could potentially harm her. Basically, just anyone.

    Deeming the vicinity safe, she rushed back to Bolt as quietly as she could, and began searching the saddlebags for her healing kit. Upon finding it, she set it down on the ground and began examining the arrowhead that had struck her horse. Then she grinned.

    Even if it had barbs on it, Rye's horse wouldn't bleed out if she tried to remove the arrowhead. Only half of it had pierced his skin, likely scraping by the saddlebags first, and with the arrowhead still embedded into his side, there wasn't as much blood as there could've been. 

    Rye poured some of her remaining water into her hands and washed them clean, shaking off any excess water, before getting to work. With a pre-sterilised knife she found somewhere in the healing kit, she pried the arrowhead from the side of her horse. Bolt tensed up halfway through it, and Rye had to rub circles into his side - a different area of his side - with her palm before he relaxed again, his breathing slightly laboured with pain.

    The bleeding worsened as soon as the arrowhead came off, and Rye washed the wound with some more of her water. As the blood was washed away from the wound, she noted it was almost nothing more than a little cut, one that could be healed in a couple of days over a week if treated properly. 

    Rye took a deep breath, letting out her exasperation at the world, before returning to the tedious task of healing her horse.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    With heave after heave, Sher and I manage to drag our tired selves out of the forests. Our legs are now just wooden trunks swaying in the wind, carrying us over the grassy plains. Our eyes, barely open search the ground for tripping hazards. We were exhausted, but rest was not a privilege that we could enjoy right now. And so, we keep pushing onwards. Onwards, ever onwards. Onwards till our wooden legs gave out into stone and beyond.

    But we can only go so far. After several minutes, we collapse to the ground. unable to continue the hike for any longer.
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

  • Sweat pours down Mick's face.  He had long drop his long bow to be able to draw his blade.  The elven rider has long since been joined by more of its kind.  Less then a handful of the crew members that he brought with him were still standing.  Whether any of those down were left alive Mick hadn't had the time.  The only consolation was that he had brought several of the elves down himself.  Mick brace himself to parry an oncoming attack by an elf on foot, whose horse was one of the many among the dead.
    Crash!!!!!

    The elven blade is flung aside by the furry that powering Mick's movements.  With grim satisfaction Mick quickly slays his foe.  Turning he meats the next one who had wearily waited until it could get at his back.  Pushing forward on his blade Mick executed sword play perfected over a decade of practice.  He unwilling thanked his father for making him learn all the arts that a royal heir was to master out of formality.  Then he drives his blade down though the elf.

    =====================================================================================

    Jane screams in agony. The dark infernal penetrates the farthest reaches of her being.  Nothing is safe.  Her unpleasant childhood, the years journeying as a sell sword, her reuniting with her brother, the monster that was their father, and his evil master.  Everything was thrown in her face and laughed at in a melody of hatred.  "Child" the voice speaks having lost it sweetness. "All is lost you're mind body and soul."  Jane goes limp all hope long deserted her.  Laughter rings around her s she realize that her arms were raising of their own accord.  With shock she realize that the laughter was coming from her own throat.

  • Rye slumped against a nearby tree, observing Bolt as he shifted from one leg to another, trying to find all the ways he could stretch it that would make the scratch sting. It was a ritual of theirs whenever they were injured; if you knew which positions would send a jolt of stinging pain up your side, it would come as less of a surprise when it came to battle.

    The wound in Bolt's side hadn't actually been all that bad, but she had still wrapped it up in a strip of gauze, seeing as anything could easily brush against it in the woods they were currently in, and start an infection. 

    When Bolt was satisfied that he knew what could potentially injure him even further, he looked up to Rye and shook his mane. Rye nodded at him in return, and beckoned for the horse to follow her. She started towards the direction from where the arrow had originally came from.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    It was a struggle, now, to keep sleep at bay. For as much as I long for the sweet unconsciousness to take my tired mind and send me into a state of repair. But I was weary at it was all I could do to ward sleep off for another few minutes. Finally, exhausted, I succumb to the natural will to rest and, with the help of darkness, I reluctantly fall into a dreamless sleep.
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

  • Freezing at the sound of the clashing of swords, Rye signalled for Bolt to stop and continued listening to the sounds around her. She was perhaps about forty metres back from the clearing the sounds of metal-against-metal was coming from, and with curiosity burning inside of her, she figured trying to see what was happening wouldn't be too much of a risk if Bolt wasn't there with her. She could handle herself well with a sword, but Bolt was injured, and if she were to get away, Bolt wouldn't be of much help.

    Rye made a gesture to Bolt that signalled 'move back and hide', and held up six fingers, telling him that he was to move back roughly sixty metres. As he did so, he limped slightly, and Rye felt the familiar mix of anger and mourning rush through her. 

    She waited until her horse had moved out of sight, before she herself began moving forward as silently and quickly as she could. The sounds of clashing grew louder as she neared, and as soon as Rye was around twenty metres away from the battle, she strove left, circling around the clearing with a shrinking radius until she reached the point where she could see past the trees and the thick underbrush and into the clearing. 

    Rye felt a somewhat grim satisfaction surge through her when she saw the human bodies scattered around the clearing. A group of elves hung around one side of the clearing, confronted by the handful of human warriors left. Rye knew that it had been one of the humans who had shot the arrow that grazed her horse, but she couldn't help the little spark of sympathy for the remaining soldiers that mingled with the satisfaction of seeing some of them sprawled out in the grass, dead or heavily injured. 

    Rye knew in the very back of her head though, that survival came first, and vengeance second. The humans were having a hard time fending off the elves - even she knew that much - and though they could be considered skilled, some of them were still sloppy in executing some forms of swordplay they evidently haven't had much practice in doing. 

    She weighed the options in her head as she studied the battle.

    If they managed to finish off the rest of the elves in the small group, it meant that they had one less group to scour the forest, and therefore a higher chance of getting out of the woods. However, if the elves managed to defeat the humans, it would be far harder to get herself and her horse out of the forest. 

    But at the same time, even with her help, she knew that there was a high chance that the elves would win the battle. She may have been well-trained with the sword, but she wasn't an elf, nevermind having the speed and agility of one. Still, it was a better option than having the elves finish off the humans, then go after her while she was alone.

    Sighing, Rye drew her sword again, and strode towards the clearing.

    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • Dan o Shanter (US1)Dan o Shanter (US1) Posts: 396
    edited 24.12.2015
    Dougal gaped in horror as Jane slumped down and then began to rise, moving like a puppet and laughing like the terrible beann sidhe, the fire he'd Seen before now exploding out around and within her like the sea-geysir that had almost wrecked the previous crew he'd crossed the straits with to get to the point where he could join with Mick and Jane on their journey south.  That journey was now proving stranger and more perilous than he'd ever deemed possible erewhile.  Drawing in his deepest breath and at the same time readying his hands on both dirk and tabor pipe, he called out to her from the deep point Eoghan had occasionally pointed out as a source of his vocal power, ""Hauld oan, Jane, fight, barnie it lass! Ye ken ye hae power in ye too, ye showed it in 'at hairy rin we hud ower th' Lochnagar rapids comin' here!"  He drew in an even deeper breath and concentrated on the flame he'd Seen, willing it away and willing Jane the strength to battle it, and burst into the ballad of Hind Horn, focusing all its themes of overcoming tyranny and separation from one's true self and companions into a flood current of sound and power to quench the flame and whatever creature was producing it.  At first the psychic flame drove back his music without taking any apparent harm; then there was a hiss, a shriek...he wasn't sure if they were just in the mind or actual sounds...and then a burst of real, physical steam that quickly filled the clearing with a low-hanging shroud of thicker mist whose twisting tendrils wove in and out of the surrounding trees.  He didn't know if he'd killed the creature, or simply injured it and so enhanced the chances that Jane and he together could do that same.  At the same time, however, his physical ears tapped him on the shoulder and reminded him that for some few moments now they'd been picking up the sounds of archery and then swordplay in a clearing nearby...sounds go funny in a forest near a river, but he'd guess between thirteen chains and two furlongs off, say four hundred yards at the average.  After a few moments more, his ears identified the direction as diagonally upriver and slightly inland, held his mind with a steady gaze and asked ir, "Weel, whit dae ye want tae dae now, boss??"



    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • JackelKight (US1)JackelKight (US1) Posts: 533
    edited 26.12.2015

    (sorry ran out of data last 'billing month'.  Finally back.)

    Jane  mentally grins at the damage at the elf witch's mind.  But unfortunately that's all she can do.  The elf was still in control.  Physical pain surges again as her body begin to alter to the elven design.  What ever it was though it wasn't fully an elven body.  Faint sounds of battle of elf and man reaches her ears.  An evil grin span her face.  Fear clams Jane soul for she knows what the elven witch plans to do.  She feels her body bend down to pick up the blade in one hand.  A voice neither human or elf rhythmically echo across the forest.  "The races should know again the fear of the demonfey." Bat like wrings spreads out and take flight.

    (For those that not so familiar with demonfey they are basically a group of elves that altered themselves though magic to possess the powers of demons.  From the Forgotten Realms series (may be in others too for all I know))

    ======================================================================================

    Mick swore as a half dozen more elves came into view.  The last few of his men still standing grouped together to repeal the new arrivals.  The dread knowledge that any one of them wouldn't be able be able to escape sat deeply in his heart.  The elves charge towards them.  A blur runs across Micks field of vision and two elves fall in pain to the ground.  Then a voice quickly identified as Dougal o Shanter speaks in his mind asking for what to do.

    Then a rhythmic voice echo though the forest causing man and elf alike to freeze where they stood as an ancient fear stirred in the back of their minds.

  • "Yah!"

    Rye's sword met little resistance as her hand-and-a-half found its way deep into an unsuspecting elf's ribs. He had been standing a little off to the side from the rest of his group, and was angled away from her, so he had been an easy target. As if by reflex, he whirled around last minute to get ag glance of the foe who had felled him, and Rye saw the eyes of somebody who was young, and not yet half as experienced as many of his elders. Then they were dull, and torn away from her gaze as he collapsed onto the ground, his body easily sliding off Rye's sword.

    The four closest elves turned to look at this new threat, and they narrowed their eyes as they took in the corpse of their fallen comrade. One of them, also young and inexperienced, yelled a phrase foreign to her ears as he ran towards her, the hilt of his sword clutched tightly in his fist.

    Rye simply stood, her sword dripping with thick crimson liquid as she studied the young elf's stance. Elves were intelligent beings; intelligent and highly trained, as well as natural fighters with speed and agility often weaved into their techniques. So for this elf to be charging at her, sword held high as if he was going to deliver an overhead cut as soon as he was within reach, his fallen comrade must've been extremely close to him. His stance was rigid, his eyes wide with sorrow and fury, which meant he wasn't thinking clearly.

    Rye only felt a stab of sympathy in the split second before he brought his sword down with both hands. She simply stepped to the side, and angled her sword towards his throat as he flew forward, his sword finding nothing to strike, and his momentum pushing him forward. In another split-second, her sword was coated in another thick layer of blood, and the elf's head was detached from his neck.

    At least he's with his friend again, Rye thought dryly. A few more elves had taken notice of her, and she decided it was best if she wasn't so far from the other humans.

    So she strode into the clearing, eyes glinting challengingly at the elves who weren't already fighting. They would have their turn.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • Jane mentally dance.  The elven witch who token on the form of a demonfey was not having the best of times.  For starters the witch only had faint memories of movement.  Then there was the fact of the wings, while the witch could strip from her the ability to move the rest of the body with only slight problems for the differential in build, but wings that was completely foreign to Jane and too different for the birds that the elven witch flayed minds.  Jane's body bobbed up and down in circler movement as the witch searches for the bard barraging her with singing. Which caused even more problems as a fog starts to set in the witches mind.  Jane mentally laugh as a snarl of rage escapes her lips.
  • Dan o Shanter (US1)Dan o Shanter (US1) Posts: 396
    edited 30.12.2015
    Dougal's jaw dropped. not for the first time this night, as Jane's form altered into a crude approximation of one of the most terrifying and alien creatures of the old ballads...even as a strangely detached part of his mind, the part closest to whatever in him was channeling the Power, noted almost clinically that it was indeed a crude approximation, nearly a caricature, not the fully fleshed out nightmare of an unweary mind.  As a snarl escaped its lips, and even that sound less clear-cut and energetic than the sagas depicted as well as being somehow strangely  divided in focus or intent, that same analytic part noted that now the situation was nearly reversed from what it was at first.  Now he sensed JANE's presence within a body that was distinctly other, fighting aginst its natural tendencies.  "Eh'd say 'at ooght tae lae its min' an' thooghts a bit mair open than coomon, nae?", he murmured to himself; at the same time, that still left the distinctly uncomfortable fact that Jane remained in the same body as the Baobhan Sith.  The best way was probably to conjure up one of the sleep tunes the old bards relied on so in the sagas and so sever the link the thing had on Jane's mind and body by rendering her unconscious; he shrugged and grinned...more improbable things had already happened today.  At the same time, he switched his dirk to a reverse throwing grip so that if he threw it right the hilt would have a chance of knocking her out with a glancing temple blow.  He raised his tabor pipe and began a swirling medley of trills, running the Faerie Lullaby into Dream Angus before sweeping up in dream-droning hypnotic spirals into Taladh Dhòmhnaill Ghuirm with all its deep roots in the old bardic and druidic singing of the old times.  He could See the mists of slumber beginning to fill the Jane creature's eyes, and he reached out to her with his mind: "Help me haur, lass. It's a way oot.  Follow th' soond tae th' dreamlands, as ye main hae when ye waur wee...i ken mah mither sang it me in th' dreamin' twilecht time, an' Ah cannae think ay a mither in th' north fa doesnae."





    Post edited by Dan o Shanter (US1) on

    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • Luke marched along the road, it had been a week since he was sent to the frontier. Luke was lucky to get a sword, so many people were sent to the frontier that some of them had to make do with axes and clubs, some even had to use shovels. Robber baron attacks were coming more common, in the distance the robber baron castle loomed above them.
    sorry for any bad grammer. 
  • overlord90098 (GB1)overlord90098 (GB1) GB1 Posts: 1,798
    I wonder what's going on mainly due to the large increase in weirdos with weapons which was worrying as that never ended well except that one time that was fun even if the other guy is now helping out he was a great fighter and even better ally, though those days were long gone due to the same weirdos that had came for his house and burned it down killing my own ally and wounding me, man do I really miss that arm and eye they were useful. Well no time to waste bleeding seems to be inconvenient so time for me to lay down and die.  
    overlord90098 @ en 1
    Level 70 non ruby-buyer 
    General of DEFA1
    RIP Rulermichael1 


    Okay, listen, we should get our stories straight, alright? If anyone asks -- and no one's gonna ask, don't worry -- but if anyone asks, tell them as far as you know, the last time you checked, everyone looked pretty much alive. Alright? Not dead.

    Nobody is going to space, mate!
    Marie Curie invented the theory of radioactivity, the treatment of radioactivity, and dying of radioactivity. In Victorian England, a commoner was not allowed to look directly at the Queen, due to a belief at the time that the poor had the ability to steal thoughts. Science now believes that less than 4% of poor people are able to do this.

    "Starting now, if I'm honest, to wonder if you're doing all this screen-breaking on purpose. Beginning to actually take it personally. You know what I mean? Like, it's like an insult to me.""Ohh...! There goes another one. There goes another one. They're not inexpensive. I'd just like to point that out. Um, it seems... unfair, y'know, smashing screens. You could give them to people. Instead of smashing them, unscrew them and, and give them to like a homeless person, I don't know what a homeless person would do, but uh, you get my point. It just seems... and you can't unscrew them either, they're bolted in, but... auh, just stop it!!"
    "No, seriously. Do come back. Come back, please."
    "Okay, I've decided not to kill you. IF you come back."
    "Aw. Just thinking back to the old days when we were friends. Good old friends. Not enemies. And I'd say something like 'come back', and you'd be like 'no problem!' And you'd come back. What happened to those days?"
    "Can't help but notice you're not coming back. Which is disappointing."
    "Oo! I've got an idea!"
    "YES YES! IN YOUR FACE! I GOT YO-ah, nope."
    "Fine. Let the games begin."
  •            As night fell under a Red blood moon, .     A hooded stranger rides alone thru the dark woods, looking about for signs of his prey, for he was searching for a thief, named Roland Dirkmon wanted for stealing the Royal Gems & other treasures.  The outlaw a highwayman an ally of the Robber Barones, faces the hooded figure with sword drawn, what do ye want asks Roland, just your head sneers the hooded stranger.   I think not says Roland as he attacks, the hooded figure, Roland swings his sword, but misses.   The black hooded warrior, kicks at Roland, unseating him, from his mount.  Roland falls to the ground.    The hooded figure's horse turns around charging,  at Roland, the hooded warrior's blade cuts clean thru Roland's neck.  Sending his head & helmet rolling along the ground. Roland's headless body falls like a tree.   His horse bolts, the hooded warrior dismounts his large black war horse, walks over & pick up Roland's lifeless head, eyes staring in terror.   The hooded figure places the head in a sackclothe bag, ties it up & places it on the saddle horn.  Looks at the body, see I told you I just wanted ye head.  The hooded head hunter remounts & rides off to the North........Watching from the shadows Timix wonders whom was that hooded stranger.................... >:)>:)>:):'(:'(:'(
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