Unknown Integer

A collection of territories surrounding a beautiful lake with seashells and sparkling pearls dotted around the shoreline. It's a place of great magical importance to many different rituals, and thus the centre of a small civilisation. Few towns are large in this region, and most are merely small villages.
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Aras Veetu
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Unknown Integer

Post by Aras Veetu » 19 Oct 2019, 13:45

Now Aras had most certainly not expected a five star greeting when she awoke from her pod, she was the only one that had known of her history after all, but her arrival certainly was surprising. As the pod door slowly opened, a torrent of frigid water fell onto her face as a wall, waking the woman up from her slumber. Unknown to her, the forces of the planet had torn her Cryopod from the rest of the ship, and sent her crashing far off onto another edge of the beach. That info was not important at the time though, as her pod was rather quickly filling with water, and the door jammed shut at half open.

Even with her advanced cybernetics, Aras was unable to pry the door from its position, leaving one final option. Bending her rather thin body, the woman pulled herself out from the gap of the door and began a frantic swim upwards, her breath quickly running out in her throat. She reached the surface with a small splash, her head gasping for air directly after it breached the water. She quickly glanced around, unable to see the ship she had arrived in. She quickly connected the dots, and realized that she was lost on an alien world far from any other human. Her head finished it's spinning on the coast closest to her, and Aras once more began to swim, towards the one hope for salvation.

By the time Aras heaved her small body onto the sandy shore, she was panting from the exertion. She was not used to this kind of activity, though she supposed that she would likely experience it much more with this new situation. She slowly rose to her feet, looking around at the landscape that surrounded her. Forest and beach touched each other, the sand contrasting with the soil and trees. There was nothing more for here yet, as she most certainly didn't have the supplies to retrieve metal from the ruin of the pod yet. No, the current plan would be to get warm, and the glow of fire was the only way she knew how.

Her feet stepped into the shadow of the forest, dragging her tired body forward as the path continued forward. Along the way she picked up several dry sticks and bark, placing them in her arms as she traveled in. It was almost sickening to think this would be her life now. She knew nothing of survival, or of wild food. She wouldn't even be collecting firewood if she didn't have her arm, which she hoped would be able to use it's storm mod to light wood. She saw no reason why it wouldn't be able to, as she had used the thing to weld together metal in the past.

After what seemed like hours, but had actually just been over half of one, Aras took a seat, placing the wood in a haphazard pile and sitting by it. She was blissfully unaware of the more fine details of a campfire, and of how little wood she had actually collected. But she wasn't thinking straight, and she was tired above all else. So she sat, not lighting the fire quite yet, as she had dried herself in the walk by a good amount. The day was still alive, if not waning just slightly, and she was planning on saving the fire for later. The idea that someone or something might share the forest with her was not a thought that crossed her mind, even if it was a real possibility.
Last edited by Aras Veetu on 19 Oct 2019, 13:46, edited 1 time in total.

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Searlan
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Re: Unknown Integer

Post by Searlan » 19 Oct 2019, 18:06

Unlike some of the degenerated memories that claimed a pale vestige of his race’s glory, Searlan was not particularly attuned to the natural world. Bones wreathed in merry lies that were whispered to the world with a grin advanced forward, the gentle rattle obscured by a soft breeze borne of his own will. He did not leap from tree-top to tree-top, swinging from vines, or simply take a fae path and allow the wilds to carry him to his destination. Instead, he walked, winding along well-hidden game trails and stepping around gnarled tree-trunks carrying small ecosystems within their boughs.

From within hollow sockets, the hungering light of the underworld flickered beneath its illusory shield, ever-seeking more fuel for its unearthly fire. The fallen champion’s natural stance as a stalking predator had long since been abandoned as he took on this quest, a carefully crafted carefree jaunt imbuing his every step. Soft pin-pricks of light where the souls of vermin scuttled about beneath decaying leaves and soft earth illuminated the journey forward, a pulsing tapestry of fragile life.

Searlan would not lie- had he the muscles to smile with beneath his glamour, he would have done so as a light flickered out beneath his tread. However, a far more appealing sight lurked just ahead- a light burned, though its aura was no more potent than that of a child, or livestock. His vision focused itself, the stygian mists of the underworld parting themselves to bare the truth of what lay before him.

If he still had a stomach, its contents would be exiting his mouth at speed.

The animal that had made its lair in the clearing was as vile a thing as he had ever witnessed. Even the most degenerate of the cannibal heirs to his fallen empire possessed more beauty and grace than this drowned vermin. Strange fabrics without a shred of grace coated its form, arms clad in cursed iron, despite the complete lack of cuirass. A curious matter to be sure. They knelt, soaked from the blessed waters of the lake, by a yet-unlit campfire assembled from half-rotten deadwood.

A shudder of revulsion ran bone-deep beneath his veil of innocence. Nonetheless, this wretched creature was related to the great omen that had set the sky aflame. They were lost, alone, clueless- without a pack or supplies to last them the night, assuming they ate. Judging by how bone-thin they were, they seemed almost a slave, driven to emaciation and exhaustion.

Searlan was a generous Lord.

Clad in the guise of a violet-skinned vixen, hair-like tendrils falling to its shoulders and the shimmering scales of maritime beasts wrapping around its body, Searlan stepped around the trees that had previously obscured him, the hard fruit of a pomegranate in one hand, and a hooked, bronze knife in the other. With a practiced movement, the knife slid through its thick exterior, carving off a chunk laden with the sweet flesh surrounding its seeds, and flicking it towards the beast squatting by its fire with a graceful motion.

“I don’t suppose you’re lucky enough to speak the trade-tongue,” he queried in a sybilliant voice, speaking in the common tongue adopted by the tribes that laid claim to the lake.

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Re: Unknown Integer

Post by Aras Veetu » 19 Oct 2019, 19:19

Aras had concluded her thinking with a simple action, that being the lighting of the fire. A small bolt of electricity arched from her hand, hitting the pile of wood with a small crack, before setting it alight. It was a small flame, but she supposed it would do. She wondered how many humans had survived the crash with her, and if they could somehow return home. She soon came to doubt that thought though, as the ship was gravely damaged. It would be a new life for all of them, if 'they' even existed. For all she knew, the removal of her pod from the rest could have been the only thing that had saved her. As she sat, thinking this over, she realized she had one surefire way to figure out, that being the communicator in her hand.

As she raised her metal arm to her head however, something stopped her from opening it. A horrid creature, clad in scales and tendrils in some terrifying mockery of hair stood before her. The purple beast actually took a step closer to her, hissing some alien tongue as it gouged flesh from a fruit. It was truly disgusting, and Aras for one was not going to let it get any closer to her. She hopped to her feet quickly, exclaiming a statement only clearly recognizable in the language she spoke, that being common English.
"Jesus Christ!"

Her first thought was to run, but she knew that whatever this creature was, it was probably faster then her. She also didn't have time to guess if it was stronger then her, so she decided her only bet was to stand her ground. Raising her left arm up, and grasping it in her right hand, she allowed the barrel of the laser pistol to extend slightly hrom her palm.
"Back off!"
She knew that this monster wouldn't understand her, but she could hope her tone wound instill a slight bit off attention into it. She also know that it would have no idea the danger that she held in her hand, so she aimed the thing towards the ground and let a single bolt fly, the ground searing as it came into contact with the energetic beam. With her warning shot out of the way, she raised the device back up to face the beast, and stammered out.
"Y-you stay back!"

So there she stood, facing down a creature she didn't understand, nor did she hope to appease. It was a fight for survival, so she thought, and she was not quite ready to admit defeat yet. She had been sent here with a mission after all, and she still hoped to realize some amount of it. But in the end her mouth could do nothing when neither her nor the creature could understand one another, so a show of force would have to do.

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Searlan
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Re: Unknown Integer

Post by Searlan » 19 Oct 2019, 20:14

Searlan forced his mask’s face to quirk a single eyebrow at the fear the creature displayed. He was being a perfectly pleasant guest at their fire, as cold as it might be, and their hospitality was distinctly lacking. Couple that with its glottal gargling, he was half tempted to bring his blade to bear and see if haruspexy would grant a more worthwhile result than attempting to communicate with the beast. Nonetheless, already he was learning.

The creature’s arms seemed to be some work of artifice, instilled with some measure of flames. Beams of light and kindling sparks alike flowed from its silvery palm. A working of moon and star, perhaps? It was certainly impressive, to be sure- it was centuries since he had rode against the Mage-Engineers behind their blessed walls, and such a creation was the equal of their fearless automata.

A show of force might just be their intent. They had displayed their strength- as amusingly meager as it was. Their magery was so weak, that such a simple evocation might be the pinnacle of warlords and archmages among their people. A smirk curled across his mask’s face as he sheathed the knife, the fingers of his empty hand twitching as he continued to work his glamour, extending the illusion forward in a display of his own mastery.

A glimmering ball of cerulean light gathered in his palm, scant inches over the enforced hallucination covering his true nature as ethereal energy bubbled and roiled within a barely-contained sphere of power. A simple enough illusion to manage, but true finesse was yet to come. He leaned forward, and blew a gentle false breath upon the gathering power.

His magic dispersed, motes of power twisting and reshaping themselves to grow wings as they began to swirl around him in a tempest of illusory power, carefully crafted power putting itself on display in a flock of immaterial beauty. From within this nexus of lies, Searlan’s false face gave a self-satisfied smirk. A more peaceable display of finesse, to be sure. He inclined his head towards the carved chunk of fruit he had freely tossed towards her, raising the remainder towards his lying lips as shimmering wingbeats slowly faded away into nothingness. Sweet seeds passed his illusion as bare bone scraped flesh free. He tasted nothing, of course- but this was a gift from His Queen, a luxuriant feast to be savoured within her hall. A base beast such as the one before him should, at least, be capable of appreciating such a delicacy.

Aras Veetu
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Re: Unknown Integer

Post by Aras Veetu » 27 Oct 2019, 18:47

It was not a particularly far stretch to say that Aras near instantly noticed that her attempt at scaring this horror away had failed. The beast almost seemed to raise a mockery of an eyebrow at the display, not even just failing to move back, but also extending an arm forward. This gesture in turn caused Aras to take yet another step back, still having her two arms raised firmly in it's direction.
"Oh God, why did you have to send me to the creepy snake monster planet?"
She muttered quietly to herself, watching with both intent and fear as a spectral image was formed in the palm of the beast.

At first she had prepared to simply sprint off as soon as this thing tried something, and the appearance of a glowing ball of spectral energy appearing in their hand was certainly something that seemed to fit the bill. And yet, even as Aras took another step back, a thought floated into her head. The idea of a simple animal having some form of energy projection or primitive hologram technology was surely impossible. It seemed to her that such a splendor must come from a creature with a touch of intelligence, even if it was primitive. As if to simply further this idea, the creature's odd power, instead of coalescing into a weapon of some sort, simply dispersed as a flock of odd birds.

This second gesture completely stopped Aras in her path, tilting her head slightly to the side and raising an eyebrow of her own. While still not quite ready to curl up beside this creature, her confusion quenched her fear by far. She slowly lowered her arm back towards the ground, but kept a hold of it, ready if the beast decided it did wish to take her as a meal. The beast gestured at the piece of fruit it had thrown at her previously, before taking a bite of their own. This was something that clicked even easier with the young human, clearly an attempt at communication. This above all else extinguished the thought of this being a simple animal, and raised her respect of it to that of a somewhat odd compatriot of sentience.

Trying to clarify the discussion, Aras released her metallic arm to point at the fruit, before turning her arm to point at herself.
"Are, are you giving this to me?"
She knew it couldn't understand her, but she hoped that the finger gestures, which she still held, would communicate some sort of thing to the odd creature.

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Searlan
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Re: Unknown Integer

Post by Searlan » 29 Oct 2019, 13:49

The mask which Searlan donned gave a smile- quickly altering the appearance of the needle-like fangs within to a blunter, less carnivorous affecation. Slowly, he nodded, illusion-wrapped bones settling down onto the dull iridescence of fallen leaves a fair distance from the curious creature, maintaining a cautious distance. Whatever it was, its native tongue sounded like the braying of some herd animal, utterly devoid of grace.

Nonetheless, it seemed as if Searlan would have to play the Mentor if he sought to uncover the truth of the matter. He tapped a finger against the fruit he held, bare skeletal structure sheathed in subterfuge impacting against the thick exterior. ”Grante,” he carefully pronounced, naming the fruit. A simple enough start, at least. He twisted his digit, prodding it against the bronze cuirass sheltering beneath the scaled skin he had adopted.

A lie, he mused, is far more indicative of the truth. Within the dusty confines of his skull, he rifled through his memories of a time long passed.

Laughter flooded through the marble-carved halls, servitor races selected for grace and obedience striding demurely through the Partholonian’s feast. Gilded banners hung from pristine columns as noble figures clad in the wealth of a thousand pilfered lands mixed and mingled, fingers slick with honeyed sauces and clutching golden cups of fine wines.

Searlan himself stood to the side, observing the delicate dance of warrior-princes and Sorceresses that made up the movers and shakers of his Imperial society. There was Prince Caelian, fresh from his victories against the magmatic warriors that crawled free from their smouldering home- his glamour carefully sculpted to hide the burns that had marred him. She-who-walked-on-clouds was present, smirking as an array of enchanted golden disks swirled around her form- her wealth coming from a peninsula she had enslaved to feed her arcane workings.

Every Partholonian in attendance had earned their place here with the hierarchy of the Empire through their conquests and skills. Or, in Searlan’s case, a skillful bluff, a significant bribe, and a disarming smile.

And a light garroting, but a certain amount of ruthlessness was required to succeed in this business.

A slave clad in a fine white gown, scintillating scales covering her body, head-tendrils bound with golden rings, approached with a platter of cheeses- some of which glowed softly with an arcane aura. Picking a gourmet chunk from the silvered tray, Searlan grinned at the servant as he asked her a question.

“Your name, my Beauty?”


The memory Searlan had wrapped his bones within named themself.

“Nessa.”

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Re: Unknown Integer

Post by Searlan » 07 Nov 2019, 22:08

Progress was being made- simple gestures and exaggerated pointing were more efficient than several oft-vaunted methods of communication. It was a strange language, one utterly devoid of the grace and nuance that naturally formed around the grace of the Gods elevating the base calls of beasts into a language of its own.

What sort of creatures were these?

He cocked his head in curiosity, looking closely at the curious being before him. A distinct lack of scales or thick hide, devoid of claws and fangs- practically a void of magical potential. What kind of race was it, that it was so utterly helpless in the face of this world, and still had been given leave to draw breath? It was so… limited, an insignificant speck devoid of potential- unless there was something hidden within. Some secret nestled within its soul that could redeem its otherwise empty existence.

He was keenly aware of the bronze blade held in his skeletal fingers, softly slicing through the fruit he carried. The dead often carried precious few secrets- it would be a simple matter to rectify this being’s wretched existence, and carry what remained to His Queen. He tensed briefly, the idea gaining momentum in his mind- only to crash and disperse like a wave against the solidity of a single thought.

The Lady deserved a Prize, not another burden for her immortal shoulders to bear. Banishing the bloody thoughts that had entered his mind, he intensified the illusion’s smile, striving to bring some measure of cheer to the falsehood he presented. He carefully sculpted his expression, scouring his memories for what precious few moments of genuine joy and happiness he had seen in all his centuries of life- perhaps half a dozen unique occurrences.

He was halfway through sketching the laughter lines just right when the Roc arrived.

Musings on a memory experienced long ago within the hanging gardens of Uruk were interrupted by the sudden impact of talons, Searlan’s comfortable sitting position suddenly transformed into a blur of motion raising him past the treeline. Bones twisted without the limitation of muscle or cartilage, empty eye sockets staring up at the beast that had dared to touch him.

Muddy-brown feathers meeting a swathe of milky-white plumage moved over him, rippling with the motion of massive wings, the winds buffeting his skeletal form as the land beneath turned into nothing more than a blur of motion. Talons the size of a forearm were lodged deep within his hollow ribcage, the avian marauder’s claws having punched through the enchanted bronze with the sheer force of its aerial charge.

The beast in question looked down at its prey, black eyes the size of saucers staring at the struggling Searlan trapped in its claws, a yellow, jagged beak snapping curiously at its latest prize. Illusion slid from his ensorcelled bones like meltwater from a mountain glacier, rune-marked remains baring themselves as he bared his knife, bronze gliding forward against the buffeting winds like a sahuagin’s fin through the waves, and-

The Roc let go.

Shouting loudly, his voice stolen away by the wind, Searlan fell, limbs flailing wildly as he cast his gaze beneath him, the dull grey mists of the underworld that forever sought to claim him giving way to the cerulean, scintillating expanse beneath him. With a quiet curse to Xolstizza, the original screamed blasphemy consumed by the howling winds, Searlan plunged beneath the waves of the Crystal Lake.

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