Original Submissions by Adhira of type 'Logs'
-
The Grey Hunt - Part 3
Added on Mar 4, 2016The winner is finally announced.
Scene: The Silverwood Estate
Event: The Grey Hunt Announcement
Note: Staff view of thinks and feels has been left in to enhance the scene.
<! As seen by Amos/Malik and his alter ego-->
Someone thinks:
"Hmm."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels curious. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman snakes her way through the crowd.
The short, dusky woman thinks:
"What the fuck?"
With a swift glane, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks at the spangled-blond, muscular woman .
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
The svelte, top-knotted woman glances to the freckled, light-skinned man then back up to the stage in confusion and alarm.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
One eye narrowed, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks down at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask looks up at the tall, muscular man.
[[You get the strangest impression that the tall, muscular man is actually growing taller.]]
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels absolutely confused. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man thinks:
"What the fuck?"
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"What the fuck?"
The willowy, grey-streaked man looks at the tall, muscular man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"This is..."
Tilting her head, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman looks up at the tall, muscular man.
Slowly, the short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales tilts her head to the side.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"What the... fuck is happening."
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The short, dusky woman thinks:
"What.. what.. what.. what?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man 's eyes widen as he watches.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar swallows hard, her eyes growing wide.
Squinting quizzically, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man looks down at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The stocky, clean-shaven man's jaw drops open, slowly.
The skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's gaze drifts to the spangled-blond, muscular woman a look of realization coming over him.
The sinewy, bald-headed man reaches over, grabbing the scruffy, brown-haired youth's elbow, with a firm hand.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman takes a step back.
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman tilts her head as she watches.
Squinting quizzically, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man looks at the tall, muscular man.
With a furrowing of his brow, the trim, ashen-skinned man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"That is His Radiance?"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stares wide-eyed at the tall, muscular man.
The willowy, grey-streaked man thinks:
"No."
Without even seeming to realize it, the short, dusky woman clutches the stocky, clean-shaven man's arm, staring at the tall, muscular man.
Eyes narrowing, the swarthy, aging man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The pockmarked, well-toned man swallows, watching the tall, muscular man.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's breath catches.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's eyes widen noticeably and without a thought he seeks to spring forward but is held in check by the sinewy, bald-headed man.
<< The short, fire-blackened woman feels utterly fucking gobsmacked. >>
Adjusting her wig, the robust, coppery-curled teen looks up at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
Under his breath, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"No."
The chubby, brown-haired man's eyes widen, watching.
Curiously as he glances between him and the skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man reaches up to touch his forehead, mouth agape as he looks at the tall, muscular man.
[[The unremarkable features of the tall, muscular man become more defined, and his complexion takes on a remarkably healthy luster.]]
The willowy, brown-haired young man frowns broadly, pushing himself to his feet very quickly.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar goes to one knee before the tall, muscular man, her head bowed to the ground.
The willowy, brown-haired young man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"What's going on?"
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's expression shifts from concern to puzzlement.
Mouth falling open and food falling out, the freckled, light-skinned man eats his small portion of a baguette of brown bread.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"What the fuck..."
The stocky, clean-shaven man quickly removes his hand from beneath his cloak, empty, his eyes wide.
The short, dusky woman thinks:"What.. what.. wh.."
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask thinks:
"Muk...no way."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The freckled, light-skinned man stands up from a long, white painted table.
[[Beneath his brows, the tall, muscular man's eyes seem to grow darker, yet strangely clearer and more compelling.]]
The sinewy, weather-worn man thinks:
"He's growin' huge!"
You notice the robust, coppery-curled teen glancing at the robust, coppery-curled teen .
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Dang, who is this guy, and... well, if the Faithful are bowin' to him, guess I sure will."
On her knee in the grass, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar watches the tall, muscular man in wonder.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman watches the tall, muscular man, enraptured, frozen in place.
[[The tall, muscular man's hair twines itself into numerous braids, no longer mousy in appearance but taking on a lustrous red hue.]]
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Is it... could it be...?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Who..the Krath.."
Chewing at her thumbnail, the robust, coppery-curled teen looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The freckled, light-skinned man glances towards the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, then back to the tall, muscular man.
Blinking rapidly, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops down to both knees before the tall, muscular man.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man kneels, falling forward onto his chest, arms outstretched above him as he presses his face into the grass.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Oh, fuck."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned woman feels a bolt of high reverence. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Utep??"
His mouth agape the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar watches the tall, muscular man in astonishment.
The trim, ashen-skinned man looks at the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar then widens his eyes back at the tall, muscular man.
Feeling abject shock, the swarthy, aging man thinks:
"No way... No way under Krath..."
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels your heart beat faster, pounding between her ribs. >>
His eyes narrowing, as he watches him, the sinewy, bald-headed man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"What the...?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man's jaw drops as he watches the tall, muscular man, his attention fixed.
The willowy, brown-haired young man shoves his way through the crowd until he reaches the lanky, indigo-tressed woman, arm reaching slowly over his right shoulder.
<< The short, fire-blackened woman feels utterly astounded, every muscle frozen and tensed. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man falls to both knees, lowering his head quickly.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man glances from side to side, a bit confused, and follows suit with the templars, falling to his knees in deference to the tall, muscular man... though still completely mystified, by all appearances.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask thinks:
"Well fucken shit...guess he ain't some old wrinkled fart in a pyramid after all."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"My King... I bask in Your Gloriousness."
The chubby, brown-haired man moves to his feet, watching.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden fiddles around in disbelief, her body teeming with energy but her mind obviously confused.
Having sunk to her knees in shock and wonder, the short, dusky woman stares, mouth open, then lowers her eyes.
This large man towers at least eight feet above the ground, much larger
and taller than most other men. From his head, crimson braids, the color of
wet blood upon a battlefield, cascade down his massive, muscular back. His
features appear to be the work of some master sculptor, where every nuance
must be pleasing and familiar to the eye, the flat planes of his face
chiseled and stern, yet personable and illuminated with perfect health. His
tan skin almost seems to glow with a brilliant light, and his dark eyes seem
to be filled with endless depths of wisdom, knowledge, and humor regarding
all they survey.
The immense, crimson-braided man is in excellent condition.
<worn around neck> a sunburst decorated silk shoulder-cape
<slung across back> an old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword
<worn on torso> a loose tunic of white silk
<worn around wrist> a ruby-set silver bracelet
<worn on right finger> a bejewelled golden ring
<worn on left finger> a ruby-jeweled golden ring
<worn as belt> a white and flame-red silk scarf
<worn on legs> a pair of white silk pantaloons
<worn on feet> a pair of silver-toed leather boots
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"SHIT! IS HE GOING TO ATTACK?!"
Blinking rapidly, the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf stands up from a long wooden bench.
Peering over the crowd as some drop to their knees, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales stands up from a long wooden bench.
Following suit with the crowd to kneel, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sits down.
[[Now towering above the tallest human, the immense, crimson-braided man's physique is imposing despite his relaxed posture.]]
The scruffy, brown-haired youth looks up at you.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels amazement. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Krath, could it actually be Him?"
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels worried about Paryl attacking the man...what might be Muk. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man looks up at you.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Is it...? I mean, could it be...?"
The freckled, light-skinned man sits down.
Tugging at his arm, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the scruffy, brown-haired outh .
For just a moment, then quickly tearing her gaze away, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at you.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar drops to a knee immediatly.
Sucking in air, the trim, ashen-skinned man looks up at you.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"I don't understand"
The pockmarked, well-toned man shakes his head slowly, quickly sliding from a long wooden bench to fall to his knees.
As he slowly takes a knee, the sinewy, bald-headed man looks up at you.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth kneels suddenly.
Mouth hanging open, the swarthy, aging man looks up at you.
With a just a brief raise of her eyes, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette looks up at you.
Silently, her hands trembling, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar watches you silently.
Falling to a respectful kneel as though forcefully tugged to the ground, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales sits down to rest.
Falling to a knee beside her chair, the svelte, top-knotted woman sits down.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask looks up at you.
Jaw falling slack, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman looks up at you.
Forgoing staying on his knees, the freckled, light-skinned man just completely prostrates himself.
Glancing up carefully, the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man looks up at you.
The willowy, grey-streaked man's jaw drops and he just stares at you, standing among the kneeling crowd.
The short, lithe young man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman drops to both knees, posture rigid as she... stares up at you.
After a moment of looking around, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden drops herself to the floor and places her head to the ground, mumbling incoherently.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"He has graced us with His Presence."
Just..... staring, the short, dusky woman looks up at you.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden sits down.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's attention snaps to the side in surprise and then quickly falls to one knee.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Fuck no."
The immense, crimson-braided man stands on the stage, folding his arms over his massive chest as he looks out at the crowd.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man gasps for a moment, his thick carru and cheese sandwich falling from his mouth to land on his lap, before falling forward on his knee afterward.
The willowy, brown-haired young man blinks quickly and hesitantly drops to one knee.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"What is going on?!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man sits down.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Sun King! I had no idea!"
The scruffy, brown-haired youth hangs his head low, knelt beside the sinewy, bald-headed man, silent and unmoving, his eyes widened in disbelief.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask chuckles quietly and slaps a long wooden bench.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman sinks to her knees slowly.
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf drops slowly to a knee, gazing about in surprise.
His attention completely set upon you, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man looks up at you.
Jaw dropping, the robust, coppery-curled teen looks up at you.
Only briefly daring to look up, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at you.
The trim, ashen-skinned man gives another awe filled look at you then slowly lowers to one knee.
The short, lithe young man hurries to kneel.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Look at-- is it-- no, I don't-- He would-- no no-- what?"
A tear touching the corner of her eyes, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar averts her gaze from you.
<< The swarthy, aging man feels fear. >>
The swarthy, aging man thinks:
"Krath shade us, and may we shelter in the lee of Whira's fury!"
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman rises to her feet and bows respectfully to you, her eyes wide.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man looks up at you.
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels ... utterly... at... a... loss... >>
Turning his eyes up briefly, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks up at you.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"And here... here is the source of the Light. This is what I have fought my entire life for. My life is yours, Your Gloriousness, should you require it."
The short, lithe young man looks up at you.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels impressed, so damn impressed. >>
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels stunned >>
[[You feel an upwelling of joy and happiness in the immense man's presence.]]
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stares at you for a moment and then quickly lowers her eyes, mumbling soft prayers.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks up at you.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart expand to bursting. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"It is Him~ He is here... what an incredible honor."
Eyes darting upwards briefly, then quickly returning to the ground, the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf looks up at you.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels utterly astonished and quite frightened. >>
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels completely voiceless. >>
The trim, ashen-skinned man sucks in air as he shudders.
Takinig a deep breath, the chubby, brown-haired man looks up at you.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Sun King! I..."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Dang, dang, dang, fuckin' shit. This is intense."
The willowy, brown-haired young man scans the crowd, brow knitted in confusion, and allows himself a brief glance at you with squinted eyes.
His eyes misting the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar raises his gaze looking serenly at you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Who is he?"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I feel so..."
Sliding limply off a long wooden bench to his knees, the swarthy, aging man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"He's fuckin' real!"
The pockmarked, well-toned man smiles, closing his eyes as his face points down to the ground.
The willowy, grey-streaked man stares at you, wide-eyed, his entire body trembling.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Thank you..."
Her eyes touched by joyful tears, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar looks up at you.
Her breathing steadying, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at you and then away, and then back, and then away, a tear dripping over her tattooed one.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Thank... you."
An odd, strangled little laugh croaks from the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales 's throat.
<< The freckled, light-skinned man feels exceptionally awed in the presence of his Sun King. >>
[[A sense of well-being settles over you at the perfection of the crimson-braided man's appearance.]]
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels happy, suddenly, HAPPY, for no reason at all. >>
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette reaches up to pull at the willowy, grey-streaked man 's arm.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels an unusual swelling of hope. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Hope he doesn't notice you? No - hope he -does-."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's breathing quickens, a broad smile, though hesitant, crashing onto his youthful features. He can do nothing but kneel silently, wide eyed gaze staring into the ground before him.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"I can't believe it..."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"He is so handsome!"
Muttering it out quickly, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman exclaims, in tribal-accented bendune:
"Blessed Utep!"
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"I am honored to be here, he has graced us. This feeling is greater than I have ever imagined."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"No shit."
The willowy, grey-streaked man bats the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette 's hand away, staring at you.
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels utmost joy. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"This is-- it's-- He's-- it really must-- He is--"
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man takes a deep breath as tears begin to roll down his cheeks, his breath ragged for a moment.
The willowy, brown-haired young man inhales slowly and deeply, a smile gradually broadening over his face.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"I've been in HIS presence..."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your senses reeling with joy and disbelief. >>
The short, lithe young man shivers visibly, his gaze locked on the floor.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I have no idea why I feel this way, who is this man?"
The robust, coppery-curled teen wipes at her eyes as she glances at you in apparent awe.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask nods as if to himself.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette tugs on the willowy, grey-streaked man 's arm again in an attempt to pull him down next to her.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden's body shivers as tears stream down her face, making a noise torn between a sob and a laugh.
With a trembling hand the svelte, top-knotted woman smears away a moist sheen from her face.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"His Radiance cannot be denied, all will know, all must know. His wisdom, his guidance is always with us."
The trim, ashen-skinned man lifts his gaze to you, mouth slowly opening without a sound.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"He is.. perfection... He is everything... He is older than -time-."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"Die today, in perfection."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"Please..."
Unfolding his arms, you say, in sirihish:
"My people! I have come before you as I once walked amongst you."
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a sudden twist of black humour. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"And I suppose these southerners now know we were right the whole fuckin' time."
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
".... and I'm kneeling right before him."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"I just-- is it-- can I-- oh my!"
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"I wonder what they're going to report when they get home?"
Tears begin streaming down the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's face as he remains transfixed on you, remaining prostrate.
The chubby, brown-haired man moves to kneel at your words.
The chubby, brown-haired man sits down.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"...hey, I even think my hangover's gone."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman blink slowly one hand rising to press against her chest over her heart, mouth still hanging open.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I am, I am!"
The willowy, grey-streaked man screams, a strangled, joyous, betrayed sound, as he falls to his knees next to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette .
On her knees, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar watches you in rapt silence, her expression glowing.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth 's jaw drops slightly at you's speech, not daring to lift his gentle browns to the man's perfect form.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden lifts her eyes slightly to you, and then turns them. They become a center of activity, shifting from looking at to looking away from you.
Trembling, but seemingly not in fear, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at you.
[[The presence and magnetism of the crimson-braided man is so intense you feel that you would follow him anywhere.]]
Looking down at those gathered with a benevolent smile, you say, in sirihish:
"Over these past hours I have drunk wine with you, I have eaten with you, and now, together we shall rejoice."
The willowy, brown-haired young man forces himself down lower on his knee, face tucked into his chest.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette pulls the willowy, grey-streaked man against her as she visibly trembles.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels adoration and wonder. >>
The spindly, grey-haired man bends over, knees to the ground and face held down in reverence.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels an elaborate elation flowing through you. >>
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"Paryl cannot deny it, no one can deny it. His Radiance is so beautiful, it blinds."
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels a strange wash of odd, affectionate adoration from seemingly nowhere, causing her throat to tighten. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man's hand moves to the jade cross hanging from his neck and he begins tugging compulsively at it, eyes transfixed on you.
The trim, ashen-skinned man stares at you with a slightly quivering lower lip.
[[Your growing adoration for the immense man begins to outstrip your love for any other living being.]]
Deadly silent, but trembling with energy, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden lowers her head as the tears stream hotly, but with joy.
The robust, coppery-curled teen trembles as tears glisten on her round face.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels like reeling and reeling. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"What a gift he has given us with His presence!"
His breathing quick and shallow, as one on the verge of tears, the scruffy, brown-haired youth makes a concerted attempt to steel himself, his youthful features quivering with untold happiness, though there this is the faintest tick of
confusion to his brows.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman reaches out exposed fingertips toward you.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Krath...krath...krath...krath..."
The short, lithe young man inhales shakily, seeming to struggle internally with himself.
The sinewy, weather-worn man squeezes his eyes shut and holds his head low.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This is... this is such a weird... keep your wits about you, Bryn. That southerner looks like he's going to lose his shit."
The chubby, brown-haired man blinks rappidly, watching you with adoration.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Please... stay with us..."
His hand motioning towards the short, dusky woman and the stocky, clean-shaven man , you say, in sirihish:
"These two stand here as the last to compete for the right to join myChosen ."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's trembling hand rises slowly from her heart to her lips.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar squeezes her eyes closed, wiping a tear from her cheek before swallowing hard, once again, lifting a brilliant smile to the pearl-haired Lirathan templar.
As it slides from his limp fingers, the swarthy, aging man stops using his smoothly carved black pipe.
The stocky, clean-shaven man picks his head up in wonderment, still kneeling before you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Oh, for the chance to be one of those two!"
The swarthy, aging man drops a smoothly carved black pipe.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Am I... dreaming? Is this...?"
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man reaches to unbuckle the straps of his breastplate, the many brands of rising suns covering his skin displayed.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask taps his chin.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette lifts her head to gaze openly, wide-eyed, apparently completely entranced with you.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man takes in a deep breath as he focuses on you, staring directly towards him, his chest straightened proudly.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Krath, I just can't believe it."
The short, lithe young man trembles heavily as he lifts his hands to his head. He digs his fingers into his hair, yanking roughly.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Why was I born so... my thoughts aren't even worthy in this man's presence."
Hastily pulling them off to kiss the back of her hands, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stops using her pair of white silk gloves, revealing a tattoo of a six-pronged star.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels on the verge of tears. >>
Face damp with tears, the short, dusky woman gazes wordlessly at you, lips parted in amazement.
Turning slightly on his heel to face the pair, you say, in sirihish:
"Worthy contestants both, but only one shall be joining the ranks of those most favored. Only one shall I choose."
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels forced and difficult determination. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Not... lettin'... anything ruin this. Eyes on the southerners. Make sure they don't go nutso. Gotta... gotta keep useful."
You unsling an old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword from your back.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"This is the zenith of my life, I shall remember this day forever."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth steals the briefest glance up towards you before quickly averting his eyes, his head shaking in disbelief, feathers and beads flying in unison. His broad and childish smile is uncontrollable.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels like you cannot bring your attention away to answer her. >>
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels like even if the Sun King cut him in two with that sword, it'd be the happiest moment of his life. >>
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Krath, he's fuckin' beautiful."
The pockmarked, well-toned man opens his eyes, staring down at the ground as he smiles brightly.
The immense, crimson-braided man holds your old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword up high above one shoulder, twisting his body slightly as he makes a move to bring it slashing down towards the stocky, clean-shaven man's neck.
Trembling, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar silently watches, her eyes widening.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gasps as she watches the sword swing.
[[The steel of the immense, crimson-braided man's sword gleams brightly despite its apparent age.]]
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden holds a hand over her mouth as she watches your sword.
The short, lithe young man thinks:
"No! Mother! Zak! Valin!!!"
The stocky, clean-shaven man goes stiff, eyes squeezing shut.
The short, dusky woman jolts, as if to throw herself toward the stocky, clean-shaven man in protection, a reflexive movement.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman clutches her ruby crystal pyramid tightly in her hand.
The freckled, light-skinned man lifts his gaze slightly from his position on the ground, coming to a kneeling position finally.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's gaze lifts once more at the sound of swinging steel.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's mouth drops agape as he watches you, frozen still.
[[ As he grips the sword, the crystal imbedded in the pommel begins to glow deep red, like the bloody horizon at sunrise.]]
Eyes wide the svelte, top-knotted woman's trembling hands cup her agape mouth.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's breath quickens as he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on the stocky, clean-shaven man.
As the sword comes to an abrupt halt inches from the stocky, clean-shaven man's neck, you ask, in sirihish:
"Rokov Kurac, do you renounce all that you have been. Do you commit yourself to my service, to walk the streets of the Ivory as myChosen ?"
[[The pommel's crystal appears to throb with light, as if in time with a heartbeat.]]
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"ROKOV!"
<< The swarthy, aging man feels your pulse quickening. >>
The trim, ashen-skinned man stares at the crystal in the sword, eyes transfixed, gaze trailing from it to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart grow calm and still. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"The Sun King speaks."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"You...Sun King, you heard my plea!"
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"I DO!"
The chubby, brown-haired man's holds his breath, watching.
The stocky, clean-shaven man opens his eyes, and then lifts his head, his mouth opening next, though no words escape.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Sweet merciful... It's all real."
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels completely, utterly, shocked. >>
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart go out to Thiza. >>
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels like one or two drops of pee might have come out. >>
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"... gotta.. gotta say something. Just say yes."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth blinks rapidly, a quick glance drifting aside towards the short, dusky woman. His brows knit heavily for the quickest of moments.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... It was Him..."
[[The glowing crystal shifts to a warmer, brighter red, like the glare of Suk-Krath at .]]
His voice awed, breathless, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to you, in sirihish:
"I.. I do."
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels completely certain. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's hand travels from her mouth to reach out tentatively toward you, as if to touch you across the span of feet between her and the stage. Her outstretched and quivers like a bow-string.
The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales shifts slightly where she kneels.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Not... going to just... cry my eyes out feelin' happy... gotta... gotta stay useful."
Touching the heavy metal sword down on the stocky, clean-shaven man 's shoulder, you say to the stocky, clean-shaven man , in sirihish:
"From this day till your end you are Chosen Lord Rokov, winner of my great hunt. "
[[ The faces of those nearby are bathed in the warm glow of light from the crimson-braided man's sword.]]
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gazes transfixed, reverently, at you.
The stocky, clean-shaven man bows his head again, letting out a weak gasp.
The trim, ashen-skinned man exhales softly, serenely, the glow of the crystal casting over his face as he watches.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Amazin'... Just... fuckin' amazin'."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's hands tremble.
With a benign smile, her eyes shining proudly, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar looks at the stocky, clean-shaven man.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels a warmth rush over her face, beneath her mask. >>
The svelte, top-knotted woman eyes squint in the glow of the radiating light.
Lifting the sword up from the stocky, clean-shaven man's shoulder, you say to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Do you choose to elevate a consort Chosen Lord Rokov."
His face alight with a gentle glow, the scruffy, brown-haired youth's brows quiver with the intensity of the moment.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Krath..."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden lets out a little sound, the light shining over her tear-moistened face.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"...ah..."
<< The swarthy, aging man feels numb. >>
The swarthy, aging man thinks:
"SweetKrathSweetKrathSweetKrathSweetKrath..."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"There's no way he'd pick me.. he doesn't even know me..."
You notice: One of the short, dusky woman 's hands curls tightly into a fist, eyes shutting.
Simply, the extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask whispers something to the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales.
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels your mind a total blank, thought chased by the power of the emotional pull toward him. >>
The chubby, brown-haired man's eyes flick briefly towards the short, dusky woman before returning to you.
Looking up, once again, his face tear-streaked, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to you, in sirihish:
"I... if it pleases you... I would take..."
Watching the proceedings silently, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar bows her head with a deep smile.
The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales offers a shallow nod to the extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask .
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask's blue gaze returns to the stage.
Seeming to find a bit of his voice, finally, as he finishes, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to you, in sirihish:
"... I would take Jisiu al Azia, of the Muark, as my consort."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gasps and puts a hand to her jade and ebony cross.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Who?"
Breathing heavily, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden watches the stocky, clean-shaven man and then the short, dusky woman.
Tearing it off, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stops using her jade and ebony cross.
The short, dusky woman puts a hand to her mouth, tears escaping her eyes, though she blinks swiftly against them.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask stifles a cough.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's gaze locks upon the short, dusky woman , brows drooping in a pleading expression, deep concern evident for the faintest of moments before the aura of you consumes him once more, eyes falling to the ground before him.
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels haltingly, dizzingly. >>
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Kurac... and a Muark..."
The willowy, grey-streaked man cries out, tearing his jade and ebony cross from his throat by way of snapping the leather cord around his neck.
Voice rumbling in his chest, you say to the short, dusky woman, in sirihish:
"Chosen Consort Jisiu, find your place by your Chosen Lord's side."
The willowy, grey-streaked man stops using his jade and ebony cross.
The trim, ashen-skinned man smiles silently as he watches you then shifts his gaze to the ethereal, fair-haired woman and the short, dusky woman.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Oh, shit... tossin' her Tek mark? I mean, obviously anyone would... s'the right decision... but it's gonna set that other one off. I know it. He's gonna lose his..."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Well, fancy that. He did it too..."
The svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at the short, dusky woman.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"He has done what is best for the Ivory."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"The southron cannot bear his presence."
Slowly rising, his head still held low in reverance to you, the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar stands up.
Adoring eyes still fixed on you, the willowy, grey-streaked man clutches his jade and ebony cross in a closed fist before dropping it to the ground.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels a terrible mixture of love for Muk and a sickening sense of betrayal of Allanak. >>
[[The faces of the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman flicker in the light cast from your sword.]]
The willowy, grey-streaked man drops a jade and ebony cross.
The short, dusky woman swallows, lifting her eyes to you for the briefest of moments, then bows her head humbly, reverently.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels astonished. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"The southron... oh, Muk Utep!"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Muk Utep, thank you."
Breathlessly, the short, dusky woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Gladly. I will."
Shaking terribly, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stares at you.
The chubby, brown-haired man's features relax, a proud smile upon his face.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man gasps with his mouth wide open, staring towards you, briefly stealing a quick glance towards the stocky, clean-shaven man before turning back to you.
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels somehow whole. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"All those selfish thoughts..."
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels utterly uninterested in answering the bronzed, angular humanoid. >>
The scruffy, brown-haired youth turns his gaze aside to the knelt form of the sinewy, bald-headed man, a questioning and pleading look dancing upon his brows and in his eyes.
Pumping his arm in the air, his sword lofted high above, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Citizens! Join me as we welcome my newestChosen !"
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart growing strong, the sense of love the reverence for the immense, crimson-braided man. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks: "I...I..."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar unslings a double-tassled steel-bladed staff from his back.
The short, dusky woman looks both horrified and reverent at once, eyes wide.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"I made the right choice!"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar stands, calling out a hearty cheer, a fist in the air.
The willowy, brown-haired young man forces his knee into the ground further, wiping sweat off his brow as he holds his gaze downward.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes close. When she opens them, it is with a smile as she slips two fingers into her mouth and whistles shrilly for the short, dusky woman and the stocky, clean-shaven man .
The freckled, light-skinned man claps his hands solidly, lifting his gaze as tears stream down his face.
The chubby, brown-haired man moves to his feet, calling out loudly.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar raises his double-tassled steel-bladed staff in triumph as he looks to the stocky, clean-shaven man his eyes reddened.
The hulking, gurth-bellied half-giant soldier grins at the short, dusky woman and the stocky, clean-shaven man, hooting loudly.
Swiftly, the sinewy, weather-worn man stands up.
The trim, ashen-skinned man looks between the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman with a broad grin.
The svelte, top-knotted woman lets out a joyful cheer, applauding with trembling hands.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden's eyes steal glances at you as she pushes to a stand, shouting incomprehensibly and pumping her fist into the air.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman whistles loudly, her ruby crystal pyramid in her fingers.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stands up.
The swarthy, aging man's hands come together in a stuttered fashion, clapping hesitantly, then faster, faster.
The willowy, grey-streaked man clutches at the ground with his fingers, his shoulders shaking and body trembling.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar raises his double-tassled steel-bladed staff in triumph as he looks to the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman his eyes reddened.
Head tilting back, his braids swinging from his shoulders, you shout in sirihish:
"Tuluk!"
The trim, ashen-skinned man slowly pushes off the ground and raises his hands in applause as he straightens up.
The short, lithe young man rises shakily to his feet, gently applauding.
The stocky, clean-shaven man rises up to his feet, slowly, his tear-streaked face a mix of wonderment and pride as he reaches for the short, dusky woman's hand.
Raising a fist above his head, pumping it wildly, the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf exclaims, in sirihish:
"Chosen Lord Rokov!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man pumps his fist into the air, bellowing loudly.
Her voice trembling and joyous, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar exclaims, in sirihish:
"To the Sun King Muk Utep, and Chosen Lord Rokov!"
[[The crowd goes wild with adoration, faces everywhere upturned to you as thunderous applause breaks over the amphitheater.]]
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels torn and wretched inside, as if her deepest loyalties are beseiged. >>
Shakily, as if not quite sure of her feet, the short, dusky woman rises, her breath rapid as she stares at the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man stands, spreading his arms wide as he leans back, emitting a long howl, a note of victory evident in his tone.
Cheering loudly as he gazes up back, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Hail the Sun King! Hail the newChosen !"Shill voice cracking with emotion, the spangled-blond, muscular woman shouts, in sirihish:
"Tuluk!"
The chubby, brown-haired man continues yelling with the crowd, fist pumping.
The willowy, brown-haired young man trembles on his knee as he grins fiercely and applauds vigorously.
The trim, ashen-skinned man continues pumping his fist into the air as he yells out over and over again.
Softly, as he speaks to the floor, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man says, in sirihish:
"Hail to His glory, and His power."
The immense, crimson-braided man lowers his sword, beaming at the crowd before dipping his head to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Rough voice lifted ecstatically, the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Tuluk! Glory to the Sun King! Glory toChosen Lord Rokov!"
[[The warm red aura surrounding the crimson-braided man seems to pulse and scintillate.]]
Along with the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templarexclaims, in sirihish:
"Eternal is the Sun King, endless is His Wisdom!"
Lifting his voice amid all the cheers, the stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
"The Sun King Eternal!"
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels as if the headiness is about to make you faint. >>
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman exclaims, in sirihish:
"Utep! Utep! SUN KING!"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I don't even know why I feel all of this excitement, but it is simply sweeping!"
Her voice barely above a whisper as she wipes her face, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden exclaims, in sirihish:
"Eternal is the Sun King!"
Gently, you say to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"You may join those friends in the crowd, Chosen Lord."
The willowy, grey-streaked man clutches at his jade and ebony cross like a lifeline, choking back joyous, reverent sobs.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette breaks into a sobbing cry and tears spill onto her cheeks as she watches you.
Fiercely, the swarthy, aging man shouts, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"opbn ez ppj cco fiod! rpqqa ih pdhrfv ridb cnuir!"
His voice lost in the shouts, the pockmarked, well-toned man says, in sirihish:
"Hail t-t-t-... t-to the Sun K-... K-K-King."
Enthusiastically, the robust, coppery-curled teen shouts, in sirihish:
"Tuluk!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man hollers until his voice croaks and then quickly resumes, lifting both fists into the air.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels totally confused and torn. >>
The chubby, brown-haired man wipes at his eyes, continuing to cheer.
You sling an old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword across your back.
Pushing through the crowd to extend a hand, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar exclaims to the stocky, clean-shaven man , in sirihish:
"Chosen Lord Rokov, congratulations!"
[[You are caught up in a fervor of excitement and fascination with the immense man.]]
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"This is all... so much..."
Softly, arms dropping to her sides, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"...Chosen Lord Rokov."
The stocky, clean-shaven man bows his head down low to you, then the rest of the Faithful nearby.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman clasps her hands together, holding them in front of her face as she watches the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman with incredulous devotion.
The svelte, top-knotted woman sobs joyously continuing to cheer.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden somehow finds the ethereal, fair-haired woman in the crowd and leans against her back, sobbing with glee.
Voice breaking though the word is spoken softly, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says, in sirihish:
"Radiance! The Sun King."
Standing proudly back to his feet, shouting loudly, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"The Sun King lives, glory to His City and His Chosen!"
The trim, ashen-skinned man continues yelling joyous praises to you and the stocky, clean-shaven man as he pumps his arm into the air.
The willowy, grey-streaked man sways to his feet, sobbing and shouting joyfull and wordlessly at the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Seeming to clasp it for dear life, the swarthy, aging man holds his black serpentine cane.
Seeming surprised for a moment before taking her hand and shaking it back, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar , in sirihish:
"Thank... thank you, Faithful Lady."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth hesitantly puts his gloved hands together, his youthful face a mixture of many emotions.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels hints of an awful, unbearable sadness. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"What's... what is going on, I..."
Grabbing at the willowy, grey-streaked man's arm, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stands up.
The chubby, brown-haired man laughs, clapping an arm upon the back of the swarthy, aging man.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels overwhelmed from all angles, senses reeling. >>
The immense, crimson-braided man takes up position in the middle of the narrow stage, his arms folded across his chest.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman lifts a hand, wrapping it around the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden's head, hand soothing as much as elated.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar eases away back toward the stage, her eyes straying shyly back to you.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"I'm... in... the Sun King's presence..."
With a dazed smile, laughing almost as if in spite of herself, the short, dusky woman hugs the stocky, clean-shaven man's waist with one arm.
The trim, ashen-skinned man walks over to the stocky, clean-shaven man, slapping a hand on his shoulder with a broad grin.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"That I was here today. It's a reason to have young, to be able to say I was here today. That I gazed upon him."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette lets out a shout for the stocky, clean-shaven man and thrusts a fist in the air.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Should I... can I... -talk- to Him?"
The robust, coppery-curled teen shrieks in excitement as she wipes away a tear.
The trim, ashen-skinned man continues laughing for a bit longer before stepping away.
Placing a gloved hand on his shoulder, the scruffy, brown-haired youth whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man .
<Eukelade>: A hush ripples slowly over the crowd as you folds your arms over his chest, starting from the stage and moving backwards.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a struggle between overwhelming euphoria and a deep, abiding grief. >>
Easing himself up as he wipes stray tears from his cheeks, the spindly, grey-haired man says, in sirihish:
"His Radiance... Oh, to be honored by His Radiance's presence."
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"He's real."
The swarthy, aging man grips the chubby, brown-haired man 's cloak as if for fear of falling, but jabs his black serpentine cane into the air with his other hand, cheering.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks up at you, a smile lingering.
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels overwhelmed with awe. >>
Sobbing into the ethereal, fair-haired woman shoulder, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden whispers something to the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
Still clutching at his jade and ebony cross, the willowy, grey-streaked man begins pushing his way through the crowd towards you, his gaze loving and reverant.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth looks up at you.
[[You feel an intense STILLNESS ome over you as your attention is drawn to you.]]
The trim, ashen-skinned man turns and looks back to you in reverential silence.
Pulling back to shout out loud, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden exclaims, in sirihish:
"He is my Sun King!"
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels wetness on your cheek. >>
The stocky, clean-shaven man wraps an arm around the short, dusky woman, starting to retreat back into the crowd towards the chubby, brown-haired man, then pauses.
The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales silences and stills, motionless.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar turns suddenly to you hushing immediately.
The chubby, brown-haired man falls into silence, an arm still upon the swarthy, aging man's shoulder.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden suddenly falls still, her eyes drawn to you.
With awe, the pockmarked, well-toned man looks up at you.
Sucking in a hushed breath the svelte, top-knotted woman 's sobs grow silent, her body still trembling.
Lifting her head, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at you.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your attention riveted on Muk Utep. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man stops in his tracks near the front of the crowd, his jade and ebony cross dangling in his hand from a broken leather cord.
The sinewy, weather-worn man lowers his hands to his sides, eyes fixed intensely on you.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth 's arms fall to his sides, his gaze inevitably drawn to you, wide eyed.
The freckled, light-skinned man stares upwards at you.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette begins to take a step to follow the willowy, grey-streaked man, and then stops as if slapped.
Spreading his arms wide, palms upturned, you say, in sirihish:
"Hear me, citizens of the Known World."
With utter calm and quiet, the robust, coppery-curled teen regards you.
Staring fixated, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at you.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Krath...Rokov...you bastard...ha!"
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden reaches out for the nearest hand and grasps it tightly, her eyes focused on you.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Utep...speaks..."
Held by the stocky, clean-shaven man, the short, dusky woman stares, motionlessly, toward you, eyes still wide, the kohl streaked where tears left their tracks.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask peers over at you.
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man has arrived from the east, stepping quietly.
The dreadlocked female has arrived from the east.
The neat bearded, cyprini-hued male has arrived from the east.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels awful clarity. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"I don't... don't understand... whose feelings are these? Mine, or theirs?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man watches you with serene smile on his lips.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman 's hand moves to her face and slowly wipes the moisture there smearing the tears into streaks and then she looks down at her wet fingers, then quickly up at you.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels compelled to listen. >>
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels full of rage atSamos . >>
The chubby, brown-haired man wipes at his eyes, blinking back tears.
Crimson locks glinting in refracted light, you say, in sirihish:
"Long did I slumber, but never did I rest. My dreams spoke to me of this day, of this event, and of what will come to be."
Glancing from the dreadlocked female to the neat bearded, cyprini-hued male , the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Not a word."
[[Everything else seems to fade away as all your attention is focused on the immense, crimson-braided man.]]
The freckled, light-skinned man glances briefly to the side to the dreadlocked female .
[[You feel compelled to hush. To listen. To listen to your words, which seem to you to be beautiful, and right.]]
The dreadlocked female looks around with an anxious expression then bows deeply.
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels an somehow solid emptiness. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Sun King, Sun King, sun king..."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Ah...I..."
The willowy, brown-haired young man reaches up a slender finger to wipe away a stream of tears slowly working their way down his cheek.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a twinge of of sympathy for the southern emissaries. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This must be tearing them apart."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar falls into simple, rapt stillness.
The neat bearded, cyprini-hued male thinks:
"What is happening"
His gaze stern as he looks through the crowd, you say, in sirihish:
"To you I gift the knowledge of what must come to be. "
Kneeling beside the freckled, light-skinned man, unable to help herself the svelte, top-knotted woman grips the top of the freckled, light-skinned man 's hand tightly, seemingly unware of herself doing so as she stares at you.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels reverent. >>
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette thinks:
"The knowledge of what must come to be."
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels her heart skip a bit, but almost unknowingly. >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Ah... look at this..."
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man's brows furrow, eyes on you.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth stares wide-eyed towards you, scrawny form still and motionless, hands hanging low at his sides.
The neat bearded, cyprini-hued male halts suddenly, eyes searching through the crowd and stopping as they rest on you.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels like everything she's ever known was wrong. >>
Lowering his hands to his side, you say, in sirihish:
"Heed my words, for they are the prophecies of the Sun-King, Muk-Utep."
Hanging on every word, the stocky, clean-shaven man looks up at you.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Stay..."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels elation pouring through your body. >>
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels emotions racing between peace, rapture, grief and confusion. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"I've... I can't think straight. Why can't I think straight? I've got to get out of here..."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"No, I've got to stay?"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"This must be destiny... that I have crossed the sands and shot into slavery to hear His words!"
Expressionless, the robust, coppery-curled teen remains transfixed on you.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man watches you intently, face rapt.
The chubby, brown-haired man holds his breath, eyes firmly once more upon you.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This is what you want, Bryn! Important things! There's nothing more important than this!"
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels suffused with rapture. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"Am I worthy? I want to be worthy."
<< The short, dusky woman feels the entirety of her being drawn reverently toward the immense, crimson-braided man, her lifelong loyalties and loves suddenly thrown into turmoil. >>
His head tilting back, eyes unfocused as he speaks with a booming voice, you say, in sirihish:
"Darkness gathers overhead, falling with soft intention to those below. A victory… turned to defeat. A deed done in ignorance will set the world awash with anger."
Staring, slack-jawed, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at you.
Kneeling down, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man sits down.
The short, lithe young man gazes silently at you, deep green eyes held wide.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels all the noise and chaos disappear at the sound of His voice. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"I should think more before I try to help..."
The dreadlocked female stares at you in rapt attention.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Darkness?"
Massive chest lifting as he takes a deep breath, you say, in sirihish:
"Wasted lands will fall victim, as swooping shadows solidfy a stone saber will shatter the earth."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"A deed done in ignorance."
<< The short, dusky woman feels as if she and the immense, crimson-braided man are all that exists. He and His words. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden sucks in a deep breath, her blinks almost non existant as she watches your every
move.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels utterly concentrated on Muk's words. >>
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your being quail at the words. >>
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... No... what are... you... saying..."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"His prophecy... He makes it known to His common caste now."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels that stillness holding through your entire body. >>
Words carrying clearly across the garden, you say, in sirihish:
"A time of ash shall mark the rise of the cities. Days of old shall be new once more. "
[[A muffling, encompassing void of silence shrouds the area, broken only by your powerful, penetrating words.]]
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels like it's impossible to think, to reason, to... understand... >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I can't believe what I'm hearing..."
Head tipping down, his gaze clouded, you say, in sirihish:
"The paths diversify, bright strands bring victory, the wrong steps defeat."
The spindly, grey-haired man stays silent, focusing on you's every word.
<< The short, dusky woman feels the tiny surfacing thought. >>
The short, dusky woman thinks:
".. more riddles... even the Sun King Himself speaks riddles."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"His Radiance speaks of the return of Echri. Command us, what do you wish of us, your loyal and faithful servants."
<< The short, dusky woman feels prompted to mad laughter, just as much as she is to cry, all overwhelmed with awe and reverence. >>
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels the shroud of silence press close, the only thing visible in His Light. >>
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"... deeds done in ignorance... that sounds like whatSamos went and did.."
His voice dropping lower, you say, in sirihish:
"What was once opposite shall join as one - fire and water will mingle, the union will tremble the earth."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This... really doesn't mean much to me. At all. I can't piece this together at all."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels terrified. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Magick and void and-- ooooh."
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels confusion. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"I don't understand it all."
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels her face flush with warm heat at the word 'fire.'. >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"This sounds... cataclysmic..."
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Will any survive this?"
The chubby, brown-haired man blinks his eyes but otherwise watches you.
The words a mere whisper yet clearly heard, you say, in sirihish:
"When eyeless beasts comb the land, then shall be the time for all tribes to gather. The march must be made, or the path will be lost."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar falls in behind you.
The skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar falls in behind you.
<< The short, dusky woman feels a tight inward shudder. >>
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar falls in behind you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"If the Sun Kings words are true... then slavery or not, I'll be ash by the time this prophecy rings true."
Her eyes fastened at your feet, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar shivers deeply.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Tribes! We have...we've done it right so far!"
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar falls in behind you.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"We are tribe, my King. We are strong in the Light."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden watches you with fascination.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels revulsion churn through her gut--old memories, old words, the ramblings of a madman recalled. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Eyeless beings... He will protect us. We must do as He orders."
The immense, crimson-braided man exhales, nostrils flaring as he looks over those gathered, his lips pressing together to form a stern countenance.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Rache...Utep...Utep...listen...Utep..."
Fixed where she stands, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gazes adoringly at you.
The willowy, grey-streaked man reaches out a trembling, empty hand towards you.
<< The sinewy, weather-worn man feels nothing, everything in him fixed on the words of the immense, crimson-braided man. >>
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a grim determination as he forces his feelings to quiet. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Fine. Fine. Leave the big stuff to people who understand it. Eyes on your own prize. Thrend will lead you."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's gaze remains utterly transfixed on you, his expression caught between rapt attention and stern determination.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"and now....this should be my home..."
Motionless, the dreadlocked female looks up at you.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your mind racing. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"We can do it, we -will- do it. Oh, if only he will look at me... war..."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels that overwhelming love for Tuluk flowing through you. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's body sways on her bended knees, both her hands pressed over her heart.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"How can the Dragon even wish to ever vanquish such a massive and all-powerful king as this?"
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"You're going to be best, aren't you? That's how you'll serve him. That's..."
Stepping towards the edge of the stage, you say, in sirihish:
"Look for my warnings. Only if we march as one will we there be victory."
The short, lithe young man breathes shakily, his deep green eyes unflinchingly locked on you.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels subdued and reverent. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"As...one...?"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"The South is but a grain of this man's being!"
<< The short, dusky woman feels memories flashing, stirring, mad ramblings, visions of fire and death, of floods and cold void winds, of a pure white bird larger than life, awe and desperate sorrow overwhelmed with devotion and love. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"...with the other tribes, or..."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden whispers but a single word-- 'victory'.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels a burst of hot tears behind your eyes. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Work as one! Yes!"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette murmurs something that sounds like an agreement as she watches you.
The svelte, top-knotted woman clutches the freckled, light-skinned man 's hand, gaze transfixed on you, tears welled in her eyes.
<< The swarthy, aging man feels nothing, weightless - mind, body, and soul caught in the immense, crimson-braided man's grasp. >>
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a moment's doubt. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Serving Him... seems like such a different idea now that... now that you've seen Him... like this..."
Dipping his head, braids swinging about his face, you say, in sirihish:
"Walk in My light, my people."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Stay..."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... please."
The immense, crimson-braided man steps from the stage, motioning to the group of silent Templars behind him.
A silent sob wracking her shoulder, her face joyous as she whispers, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar
says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"rizr en aio."
[[As the immense, crimson-braided man shifts to leave the stage, he turns his head, looking directly at you, a luminous smile on his handsome face.]]
The short, dusky woman thinks:
"My people.. my people."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's eyebrows rise.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"He looked at me..."
The dreadlocked female's eyes widen in shock.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's breath catches in her throat, the sound a gasp, a sob, and raptured moan.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden emits a soft gasp as she looks at you, her body swaying on weak knees.Someone thinks: I have to serve him...
Someone thinks: He loves me.. He loves me..
[[A ripple of energy courses through you, and people all about the area begin to turn and glance in the direction of the Grand Ivory Pyramid.]]
Scene: The Silverwood Estate
Event: The Grey Hunt Announcement
Note: Staff view of thinks and feels has been left in to enhance the scene.
Someone thinks:
"Hmm."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels curious. >>
The...
Continue Reading...The Grey Hunt - Part 2
Added on Nov 15, 2009Precentor Rysha announces the winner of the Grey Hunt - with an unexpected conclusion.
Scene: The Silverwood Estate.
Event: Announcement of the Grey Hunt winner.
Note: Since this was logged by staff thinks and feels which are normally only viewable by the character in question have been left in.
<! As seen by High Precentor Rysha Uaptal>
Whistling lowly, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
Nodding deeply to the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"And High Precentor Rysha Uaptal, show them the same attention you have kindly showed to me."
The trim, ashen-skinned man leans back against a long wooden bench and sits up little straighter.
The svelte, top-knotted woman dips her head respectfully to the group approaching the stage.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's posture straightens, watching the pearl-haired Lirathan templar and the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar with a respectful, deep inclination of her head.
Bowing his head low as he turns his attention, the stocky, clean-shaven man looks up at the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
The freckled, light-skinned man clears his throat and lowers his head, bending at the waist slightly as well.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask twitches slightly then looks over and seems to relax.
With a deep bow of her head, the short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden bows her head completely, but still claps wholeheartedly.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Rysha Uaptal... why did I think the High Precentor was Faithful Lady Fyloria?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Oh fuck."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar lifts her hands for silence, tilting her head gracefully to the newly-entered group.
Someone thinks:
"I... am in the presence of a High Precentor Faithful Lord. I am truly blessed by the Light."
His eyes focusing keenly, the swarthy, aging man looks up at you.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"Don't look at them! Just sit in their ...fucking serious presence."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman sucks in a gasp, and deeply bows her head.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar clasps her hands before her, standing in front of the small stage.
Someone thinks:
"Eh, I gotta keep better track of this stuff. Could mis-address someone and end up in a real uncomfortable situation."
Short, straight black hair hangs down around this woman's face and falls
around her cheekbones. Her eyes are a rich jade color, round and wide
in shape. She is very taut in stature, with long limbs and delicate
hands and features.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar is in excellent condition.
<neck> a blue and purple inked band
<worn across back> a glossy-grey knapsack
<worn around wrist> a whitened bone key
<left wrist> a silver moon
<worn on hands> a pair of red silk gloves
<worn around body> a hooded, white and gold-trimmed templar's robe
<worn on legs> a pair of white-trimmed, red sandcloth pants
<worn on feet> a pair of soft, white silk boots
The trim, ashen-skinned man swallows then lowers his head once more to the arriving group of templars with a slight tilt at the waist.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"High Precentor! What an honor, y'know?"
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man eats his small portion of a thick sausage and cheese sandwich.
The freckled, light-skinned man keeps his gaze lowered, staring directly at a long, white painted table.
Retaking her seat, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar sits at a long, white painted table.
With curiously wrinkled brows, head inclining ever so faintly, hesitant, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks up at you.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar glances around the crowd, returning a few nods lightly.
With a deep, respectful bow of her head, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette looks up at you.
The short, dusky woman seems still out of shock for a while, among the crowd, then mimics those around her in showing respects toward the templars.
Dipping off in a nod, the spindly, grey-haired man looks up at you.
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels really, really, really fucking nervous. >>
<< Someone feels curious indeed. >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man clears his throat and leans forward, his elbows on his knees.
Unclasping it and letting sweat-tangled hair fall to her shoulders, the ethereal, fair-haired woman stops using her black and red fringed headdress.
<< Someone feels gleeful. >>
Someone thinks:
"How many of my brothers and sisters would love to be able to see this?"
The spindly, grey-haired man looks up at the pearl-haired Lirathan templar.
Tossing her head, her black hair cascading back over her shoulders, you say, in sirihish:
"Citizens of Tuluk... Guests... we come now to the announcement of the Hunt."
Dusting the last few crumbs from his hands, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man bows very deeply, to the point of essentially kneeling along with many others in the crowd.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels a bolt of excitement in your breast. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"I don't even know who all entered!"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"The Hunt?"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar smiles proudly to the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask perks up.
At a long wooden bench, the willowy, brown-haired young man speaks, nodding to the short, lithe young man.
Someone thinks:
"Here we go."
<< Someone feels keen, interested excitement. >>
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels dazed. Utterly and completely dazed. >>
The very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales thinks:
"Rokov. It's gotta be Rokov."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man gives his spiced steak to the freckled, light-skinned man.
As the crowd falls silent, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar fastens her attention on the stage.
As surreptitiously as he can, the freckled, light-skinned man begins to chew on his baguette of brown bread.
Smearing her spindly hands together the svelte, top-knotted woman casts a glance to the freckled, light-skinned man and then back at the stage.
Dipping her head in the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar direction, you say, in sirihish:
"Faithful Lady Serilla. Join me."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"Not Rokov. Not Rokov."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"She's using the lack of decoration to good effect. It looks dignified on her, rather than plain."
The freckled, light-skinned man eats a portion of his baguette of brown bread.
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar folds his arms over his chest, staring at the crowd with a somber stoicism that is in direct contrast to his appearance.
Lifting her brows with a gracious nod to you, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar stands up from a long, white painted table.
The willowy, brown-haired young man nods slowly to you, quickly straightening his posture and gazing forward fixedly.
The tall, muscular man watches quietly, one corner of his mouth quirking in a faint smile.
The freckled, light-skinned man eats a portion of his half eaten baguette of brown bread.
Someone thinks:
"Fuck me."
Sliding off his shoulder before easing back down, the trim, ashen-skinned man stops using his dusty steel grey duffel bag.
<< Someone feels dazed, dull shock. >>
Her hands clasped behind her back, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar steps down the slope to join you, standing back a pace quietly.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"There's no second place. At least this won't drag on."
Plopping, the trim, ashen-skinned man sits on a long wooden bench.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"You're in trouble"
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"......"
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"I never thought I would ever see them."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"The High Precentor?"
Dipping her head towards her, you say to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, in sirihish:
"We thank you for the festival you have provided his citizens. As primary recorder for this Hunt we ask that you call each entrant to stand before us."
Nibbling quickly, masked gaze fixed on the stage, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales eats her half eaten ball of soft white cheese.
The tall, muscular man's eyes shift to you as she speaks.
The willowy, grey-streaked man nods over to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
Handing over, the trim, ashen-skinned man gives his dusty steel grey duffel bag to the very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Where's Valin?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips a nod to the very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask in a slow manner.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden begins looking around uncomfortably, her eyes searching the crowd.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar remains stading amidst the crowd by a long, white painted table, his reserved and reverant gaze set on the stage.
Nodding deeply to you as she steps forward, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"In order of recording."
<< Someone feels nervous. >>
Voice lowering, the short, dusky woman whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks down at the tall, muscular man.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Thought she meant just leave her alone... obviously not."
The chubby, brown-haired man glances to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Someone thinks:
"Keep quiet, you shit, or you'll get a beating."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels humbled, hopeful. >>
The sinewy, weather-worn man's head turns in causual survey of the crowd, a faint grin on his lips.
Someone thinks:
"Bad fucking timing GO AWAY, woman!"
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels a touch of sympathy for Vash. >>
Shaking his head, as he speaks quietly, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the short, dusky woman.
Her voice ringing out, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Vejaan A'jinn of the A'jinn Academy."
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Just keep it together, keep Aja in yer thoughts, she trained ya some 'fore all this happened."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar looks down at the tall, muscular man .
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man steps forward proudly, moving over near the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar.
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Hasn't his family won before?"
The short, dusky woman whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man .
Curiously, the spindly, grey-haired man looks up at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man .
Inclining her head to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Master Bard Adarana Irofel."
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"Vejaan's a serious contender. Can't discount him. ALL of these people are potentially going to be pissed at me if I win this."
Someone thinks:
"Huh. Was wonderin' who that guy was."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"Ahhh, Aja... will that be the one?"
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks down at the tall, muscular man.
The sinewy, weather-worn man thinks:
"All this hubub just ta get t'the announcement? Krath, Kurac could do it better."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar keeps her hands clasped before her, watching each contestant as they approach.
Hesitantly, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the short, dusky woman.
Someone thinks:
"Grey hunt? I really ought to listen more closely to what's happening."
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman has arrived from the east, hurrying in.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Good grief! I should have at least entered, with a list of names like that."
The trim, ashen-skinned man licks his lips quietly as he watches the quiet procession.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar smiles to an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman, inclining her head.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Advisor Rokov Kurac."
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man remains silent and proud, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
The svelte, top-knotted woman's brow raises in surprise.
The tall, muscular man's eyes move along the entrants as their names are called out.
The short, dusky woman whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man .
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Oh, like he needs to win anything!"
The stocky, clean-shaven man takes a breath and makes his way down the aisle, approaching the stage.
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman takes her place beside the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man with a sheepish, nervous smile.
The swarthy, aging man, gives the stocky, clean-shaven man a quick pat, grinning.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks up at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man.
The sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the short, dusky woman .
The very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales shoots a smile at the stocky, clean-shaven man, tipping an encouraging nod.
At a long wooden bench, the chubby, brown-haired man speaks, chuckling after.
Someone thinks:
"Losing is... so difficult. I have trained my entire life. My tribe has given me strength, wisdom, fortitude. But all these things mean nothing to you."
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf grins up at the stocky, clean-shaven man , clapping briefly.
<< Someone feels like you are trying to calm your nerves. >>
The short, dusky woman nods once at the sinewy, bald-headed man , straightening the lapels of her sleek, crimson leather duster.
Quietly grabbing his arm, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the scruffy, brown-haired youth.
Face set in a serious expression, the stocky, clean-shaven man bows his head deeply to the Faithful and moves to stand beside an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman.
The spindly, grey-haired man looks up at an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Advisor? What kind of a title is that for a hunter..."
You feel a growing sense of anticipation.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth nods softly, swallowing hard.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Ah well..."
The pockmarked, well-toned man looks up at the stocky, clean-shaven man .
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"You know, there are so many people here..."
The swarthy, aging man chuckles at the chubby, brown-haired man .
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman smiles fondly at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man from her seat on the bench.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the chubby, brown-haired man 's mouth as he smokes a naked harlot spice pipe.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"If they were to just all drop dead and freeze in time, I'd learn more now than most people in a lifetime."
After a beat, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Recruit Valin of the Sun Legions."
Someone thinks:
"It's tough to read the Chosen Lady though..."
Someone thinks:
"Valin? Seriously?"
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"He's not here, stupid, I don't know where he went..."
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I have no idea how she'll take to my... hobby."
Someone thinks:
"Now wouldn' be the best time ta attack. Not with everyone's attention fixed."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"Private Valin."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar tilts her head, gaze shifting over the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden .
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's jaw flexes and relaxes, his youthful features tense though he attempts the faintest of smiles to offset, gentle brown hues locked upon the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar as they speak.
<< The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man feels a sense of resignation. >>
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"So, ka. If that be my life in His service, then so be it. But know that my heart aches for your smile."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman stands up from a long wooden bench.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden clears her throat softly, her eyes unmoving from the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar .
Her tone formal, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Thiza of the Al'Seik."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman walks east.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar glances over at the sinewy, weather-worn man for a long moment.
Hopping to her feet quickly, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman stands up from a long wooden bench.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's head inclines deeply as she walks along, falling in line.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"So that's who she is."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Ani and Zharal of the Tan Muark."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Stupid, stupid man. We could have won. I could own this place. And renovate it. And make it beautiful. And me beautiful. And have Hlum babies. Beautiful ones. But stupid skips out on us."
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels shock. >>
The sinewy, weather-worn man meets the pearl-haired Lirathan templar's gaze for a moment before his attention drifts back through the gathering.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels nervous as Drov. >>
Someone thinks:
"I guess Thiza's pretty nice. Wouldn't be too disappointed if she won it..."
Her face registering clear surprise, then a respectful nod given, as she steps forward, the short, dusky woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Just.. Ani, Faithful Lady. But I will stand for her as she is not here."
<< Someone feels claustrophobia easing in as the crowd tenses. >>
With a milld nod to the short, dusky woman, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Those are the completed entries recorded officially in the books of our Order."
<< The sinewy, weather-worn man feels a sudden sense of dread. >>
The sinewy, weather-worn man thinks:
"Krath, that was just brilliant."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth curls his lips inward, hesitantly taking a half-step forward beside the short, dusky woman before he controls himself, remaining silent beside the sinewy, bald-headed man .
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"I believe Vash of Salarr has completed the second task, as well."
Her expression gone completely stiff, the short, dusky woman just nods, managing another more polite one as she steps up onto the stage.
Uncertainly, after a moment's pause, the trim, ashen-skinned man stands up from a long wooden bench.
Her shoulders completely tense, the short, dusky woman whispers something to the stocky, clean-shaven man .
The trim, ashen-skinned man makes his way slowly, humbly, through the crowd to stand by the short, dusky woman, giving the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar and the others a slow, polite nod.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar inclines her head to the row of entrants, turning back to you.
With a benevolent smile, you say to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, in sirihish:
"Thankyou Faithful Lady."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's eyebrows rise over her pair of dark-lensed sunslits then immediately drop.
With a smile, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at the dusky, sorrel-curled woman.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels nervous as all get out. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Oh, it'd be pretty wine if Vash won too, I guess."
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops a fraction of a nod as he stands stiff, eyes ahead.
Taking a step away from the stage, motioning to the space on the grass before her, you say, in sirihish:
"As I call you, please step towards me."
Someone thinks:
"PLEASE be Rokov-da or Thiza. They should've chosen one or the other...I hope."
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask leans over his new dusty tortoiseshell and black-leather shield watching the stage carefully.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar steps to the foot of the stage, watching closely.
Someone thinks:
"How are they doing this, I wonder?"
Glancing at the assembled notables, the swarthy, aging man looks up at the pearl-haired Lirathan templar.
The trim, ashen-skinned man straightens up and eases his dusty tortoiseshell and black-leather shield to his side, hand held flat against the other hip.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden leans against the stage as she watches, eyes bright with activity.
With a glance towards the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar, you say, in sirihish:
"First we note that Private Valin made admirable effort, and has proven his loyalty to His Legions and His service. We regret that the Private is no longer considered in contention."
Shifting a bit closer, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales sits on a long wooden bench.
Gaze settling on an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman, you say, in sirihish:
"Master Bard Adarana Irofel, please stand before me."
Someone thinks:
"...it just needs to be those two. One of them."
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman moves gracefully to stand before you with a bow of her head.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar blinks at the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar.
The freckled, light-skinned man clears his throat, eyes flitting to the stocky, clean-shaven man briefly.
Extending a hand, your ruby crystal pyramid set atop her palm, you say, in sirihish:
"Master Bard, we thank you for your entry, and your loyalty and service to Him. We regret that you are no longer considered a contender."
With barely any sound at all, the stocky, clean-shaven man whispers something to the short, dusky woman .
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"No longer considered? But-- why? I don't understand."
The trim, ashen-skinned man stands perfectly still, gaze ahead, chest barely lifting with each breath.
You say to an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Take this as a token of your entry, and achievement."
You give your ruby crystal pyramid to an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman.
The chubby, brown-haired man taps his naked harlot spice pipe with a finger as he watches.
The short, dusky woman nods shallowly, staring at the proceedings.
His hand slipping from his pocket, the scruffy, brown-haired youth snaps his gloved fingers softly before placing his hand at the small of his back.
Looking over to the trim, ashen-skinned man, you say, in sirihish:
"Vash, please step before me."
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman accepts her ruby crystal pyramid gracefully and moves offstage.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar stands solemnly looking to you with an appreciative nod before turning his attention back to the stage.
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips a very slow nod before taking a breath and careful, determined strides to stand before you.
For a brief moment, the willowy, grey-streaked man looks at the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar .
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips a low, polite nod to you.
Someone thinks:
"I knew he wouldn't win, but I was impressed with his efforts none the less. I am glad he was given consideration."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"I will have to do something nice for him in honor of it."
Attention focused on her boots, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales chances only the occasional glance to the stage.
The svelte, top-knotted woman touches her hand to the freckled, light-skinned man's only briefly as she studies the event on stage.
With a smile, her gaze set on him, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man , in sirihish:
"Your effort in this hunt has been noted and appreciated. Know that Tuluk considers you a fine contestant."
Easing onto a seat beside the tall, muscular man, an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman sits on a long wooden bench.
The trim, ashen-skinned man starts to lift his gaze to you but instead tips an even deeper nod.
Holding your ruby crystal pyramid towards him, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man, in sirihish:
"Take this as a token of your achievement and appreciation, you have done well in His eyes."
You give your ruby crystal pyramid to the trim, ashen-skinned man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"... she didn't say he lost."
The trim, ashen-skinned man slowly lifts his hands and accepts his ruby crystal pyramid with claw covered hands, a warm smile creeping over his lips.
With a nod, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man, in sirihish:
"We regret that you are no longer considered a contestant."
The robust, coppery-curled teen has arrived from the east.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Dang, nice prizes. I should just enter this every year."
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips another nod to you then slowly steps back and off to the side.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels content, happy, you did this and you did it well. >>
Looking to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, you say, in sirihish:
"Vejaan A'jinn, please stand before me."
The pockmarked, well-toned man glances to the chubby, brown-haired man, quickly returning his eyes to the stage.
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man steps forward, bowing his head respecfully.
Tiptoeing in unobtrusively, the robust, coppery-curled teen sits on a long wooden bench.
For a moment, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man.
The freckled, light-skinned man glances towards the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.
The trim, ashen-skinned man lifts a finger to carefully trace over the edges of his ruby crystal pyramid as he stands some distance from the group of attention.
Her gaze solemn, you say to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Vejaan A'jinn you have lived up to the name of your family. You were a fine entrant and He was pleased."
Leaning over, the robust, coppery-curled teen whispers something to the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man .
Extending your ruby crystal pyramid to him, you say to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, in sirihish:
"We regret you are no longer considered a contestant, take this as a token of our appreciation."
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man nods his head deeply to you, taking the pyramid.
You give your ruby crystal pyramid to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man.
The freckled, light-skinned man covers his mouth with a gauntleted hand, coughing.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"YES!"
Leaning close, the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man whispers something to the robust, coppery-curled teen.The svelte, top-knotted woman clasps her hands tightly in front of her.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's index and middle fingers remain crossed at the small of his back, the other hand still tucked deeply within the pockets of his desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
The tall, muscular man stretches, sauntering up towards the stage.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Zharal, then. Odd."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Odd choice..."
The short, dusky woman glances sidelong to the stocky, clean-shaven man , flashes a brave smile, then steps forward to show respects to the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"When did Zharal get beat out? So it's Ani and Rokov? Gee. What great choices. Not even a citizen among them."
The stocky, clean-shaven man takes a deep breath and steps forward toward the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
Watching the tall, muscular man approach the stage, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette looks at him.
Someone thinks:
"Fuck. At least we have some sort of defensive agreement between each other."
The tall, muscular man steps up onto the stage, moving between the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar and the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman .
The willowy, grey-streaked man tilts his head, watching the tall, muscular man.
Her brow raising, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at the tall muscular man.
The chubby, brown-haired man looks up at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The stocky, clean-shaven man pauses, a hand reflexively going beneath his cloak.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"A twist?"
The stocky, clean-shaven man looks up at you.
With a slightly narrowed gaze, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks at the stocky, clean-shaven man .
Glancing over quickly at the lanky, indigo-tressed woman, the willowy, brown-haired young man quietly exhales and leans forward.
The freckled, light-skinned man looks up at you.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar nods slightly as the tall, muscular man approaches.
The chubby, brown-haired man looks up at you.
The short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales thinks:
"The fuck?"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar tucks her hands into her sleeves, watching silently.
With a curious shift of his gaze, the sinewy, bald-headed man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The freckled, light-skinned man quirks an eyebrow briefly.
With a glance over, you say to the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar, in sirihish:
"This one is mine."
Scene: The Silverwood Estate.
Event: Announcement of the Grey Hunt winner.
Note: Since this was logged by staff thinks and feels which are normally only viewable by the character in question have been left in.
Whistling lowly, the...
Continue Reading...Grey Hunt - Part 1
Added on Nov 15, 2009A festival is held in Tuluk to celebrate the Grey Hunt. Amos-Malik attends the celebrations in time to see the end of a very Tuluki show.
Armageddon -
Monday, November 12, 2007, 1:03 PM
-----------------------------------------------
Scene: The Silverwood Estate.
<!—As seen by Amos-Malik, the tall, muscular man -->
This man possesses a stature that is quite elevated and a physique of
apparent might, sun-tanned, lightly-scarred musculature creating a weighty
cornerstone to bear him up through life. His chiseled features cradle nose,
mouth, and eyes that are neither brown nor green, all of appropriate and
unremarkable proportions to his face. Wavy hair of a completely average,
mousy-dun color caps his head, a slight wave to the thick locks. His
shoulders are broad, his torso likewise, though it tapers to narrow waist
and hips in an almost triangular fashion. His face is shaven, though a few
faint scars along his jawline suggest he is not as skilled at this practice
as he could be.
The tall, muscular man is in excellent condition.
The tall, muscular man is using:
<neck> a blue and purple inked band
<worn on torso> a rugged, long sleeved white shirt
<worn around wrist> a yellow-stained, sun-carved bracelet
<hands> a tattoo of a six-pronged star
<secondary hand> a mask of supple white cloth
<worn on legs> a pair of brushed, sienna-hued knee pants
<worn on feet> a pair of dark-brown, flame-beaded moccasins
An Amphitheater [69077] [INDOORS LIT] [ES]
The garden path runs along the top edge of this open air amphitheater.
A backdrop of bright white stone curves around, while white stone tiers rise
up, providing seats for spectators. In three places, steps descend down the
eight tiers to the floor below. The stage at the bottom is also of gleaming
white stone. Two doors in the backdrop provide places that actors might
enter and leave the stage by.
The path continues on the east and south.
An assortment of casks and baskets of food are scattered around the amphitheater.A garland of white roses rings the clearing, petals gleaming.
A few single white flowers have been woven into a massive garland over the clearing.
The trim, ashen-skinned man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman is standing here.
The short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth stands ont he stage, performing.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
- he is carrying a leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
- he is carrying a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
The spindly, grey-haired man lingers at the back, watching the proceedings.
The very short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The stocky, clean-shaven man is standing here.
The sleekly-muscled, auburn-haired woman stands here, deceptively at ease.
The swarthy, aging man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The lanky, indigo-tressed woman stands here, easily at attention.
The svelte, top-knotted woman is sitting at a long, white painted table.
The willowy, brown-haired young man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth is standing here.
The short, dusky woman is standing here.
The sinewy, bald-headed man is standing here.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf stands here, scowling faintly.
The chubby, brown-haired man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales loiters near a bench.
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The freckled, light-skinned man is sitting at a long, white painted table.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette is standing here.
The willowy, grey-streaked man is standing here.
The pockmarked, well-toned man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The gurth-bellied half-giant soldier looms here, gazing intently about.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar is sitting at a long, white painted table.
The bristling red-streaked kurtok paces here, growling for no reason.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man is standing here.
A half-giant Tuluki soldier looms here in staunch silence.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar is sitting at a long, white painted table.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The short, lithe young man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman is sitting on a long wooden bench.
A half-giant Tuluki soldier looms here in staunch silence.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth shuffles forward towards the short, barrel-chested dwarf, scrawny form slipping through the crowds with ease.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman grins with triumph as she skids to a stop, the tassles of her headdress whirling about her face. And then she looks down... at her empty hands. Her features fall, disbelieving.
The hulking, gurth-bellied half-giant soldier watches the ethereal, fair-haired woman worriedly, completely engrossed.
The short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth stands with a smile as she holds the small, yellow-painted ball in her hands, its vivid color standing out against her white gown, showing no sign of movement. She shrugs in comic helplessness.
The tall, muscular man looks over the gathered crowd, making his way through the press of people towards the benches.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks from her hands to the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth's own and then stands, jaw set, as she storms back to her side.
Hooking the claws of the other hand into the trim, ashen-skinned man 's cloak and pulling, the very short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask whispers something to the trim, ashen-skinned man.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar looks up at you.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar chuckles quietly as she watches the play, the thin trains of the accompanying music rising from the sides of the stage.
Her set jaw shifting into a simpering, playful smile, the ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth 's shoulder a playful nudge as she holds out a hand for the small, yellow-painted ball.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth moves back towards the short, dusky woman , taking a drink as he maneuvers through the thick crowds.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth drinks horta wine from his festively-carved drinking horn.
As he passes through the crowd, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks at you.
Raising her brow at the ethereal, fair-haired woman , the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth remains standing perfectly-postured and unmoving save for a small 'hmph.'
At 1) a long wooden bench are:
the trim, ashen-skinned man ,
the very short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask ,
the grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman ,
the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, and some empty seats.
At 2) a long wooden bench are:
the willowy, brown-haired young man ,
the short, lithe young man , and several empty seats.
At 3) a long wooden bench are:
the spangled-blond, muscular woman ,
the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man ,
the caramel, alabaster-haired woman ,
the sinewy, obsidian-haired man ,
the dusky, sorrel-curled woman , and some empty seats.
At 4) a long wooden bench are:
the swarthy, aging man ,
the chubby, brown-haired man ,
the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf ,
the pockmarked, well-toned man , and some empty seats.
At 5) a long, white painted table are:
the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar ,
the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar ,
the freckled, light-skinned man ,
the svelte, top-knotted woman , and a couple of empty seats.
At 6) a long, white painted table are:
some empty seats.
With the marked lack of success, the ethereal, fair-haired woman 's features become stern as she steps close to the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth , staring down at her with her extra inches of height. She extends her palm again, flat, with uncompromising demand.
The short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth looks up from the ethereal, fair-haired woman down to the yellow painted ball, letting out a little chuckle as she sidles one step to the right.
Watching the ethereal, fair-haired woman closely, the short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales drinks ginka wine from her white-painted wooden cup.
The willowy, grey-streaked man looks at you.
The tall, muscular man pauses, a brief grin cracking his lips as he makes his way to the basket, bending over to look inside.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks up, jaw working to one side before she finally reaches out, elf-quick, to snatch the accursed ball from the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth 's hands.
Inclining her head faintly before returning her attention to the stage, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar looks up at you.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks down at the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth with no small amount of smugness, the ball held in both hands now as she lifts it above her head.
The sinewy, weather-worn man smirks toward the chubby, brown-haired man from the edge of the crowd.
In a single, swift motion, the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth grabs the neck of the ethereal, fair-haired woman 's collar and lifts her off the ground, brow creasing deeply.
The ball falls from the ethereal, fair-haired woman 's hands as her eyes widen, astonished, with the grip on her collar.
The small, harmless, innocuous yellow-painted ball rolls across the stage behind the ethereal, fair-haired woman and the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth.
The short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth jerks the ethereal, fair-haired woman toward herself, her teeth clenched, but looks down at the *clank* of the ball dropping and watches as it rolls away-- still effortlessly dangling the ethereal, fair-haired woman in the air.
The short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth 's face contorts into a look of horror as the ball disappears and in its place appears a large, yellow-clad figure, almost as if out of nowhere.
The tall, muscular man moves over to a bench, sitting down on the end.
The bristling, red-streaked kurtok reaches his neck out to sniff cursorily at you from beneath a long, white painted table, growling contentedly.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man walks east.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman stares, even as she is held on tip-toe by the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth 's grip on her shirt collar.
Briefly, the stocky, clean-shaven man looks down at you.
After a startled pause, the ethereal, fair-haired woman looks down at the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth and then up to an invisble figure. And then she points to the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth with a shrug of innocent helplessness.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar looks at you.
With a loud scoff of protest, the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth looks toward large, yellow-clad figure and instantly releases the ethereal, fair-haired woman . She sets forth a flurry of gestures at the ethereal, fair-haired woman .
With a silent gasp of astonishment, the ethereal, fair-haired woman whirls to look down at the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth, headdress flapping at her face, as she points a finger, jabbing it at her chest.
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman watches silently, leaning against the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man's side.
The short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth turns toward the large, yellow-clad figure, ignoring the ethereal, fair-haired woman, and holds up both hands, her lips turning downward as she begins to whine and pout.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks at the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth and then drops to both knees and crawls forward, hands clasped in front of her face as she elbows her way to the front.
At a long, white painted table, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar speaks, clapping her hands together softly, her smile tinged with delight.
The large, yellow clad figure holds up a single one of its hands, and snaps-- both the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth and the ethereal, fair-haired woman fall to the ground.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, glancing along the bench:
"Good show?"
The svelte, top-knotted woman chuckles at the display on stage, looking amused.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar leans forward intently, her attention on the red and white-clad figures on the stage floor.
After a long, dramatic pause in which both actors keep themselves still, the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth turns, takes the ethereal, fair-haired woman's hand, and lifts herself into an elegant bow.
The trim, ashen-skinned man lifts his hands and gives a careful, then more obvious clap to the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth and the ethereal, fair-haired woman while gazing at the stage.
Cracking a smile, the ethereal, fair-haired woman pushes herself to her feet, one hand clasping the short female wearing a mask of supple white cloth 's own.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth draws his gloved hands together in gentle applause, his festively-carved drinking horn tucked under his shoulder.
The hulking, gurth-bellied half-giant soldier stands up from his bench, applauding with serious glee to the stage.
The tassles against the ethereal, fair-haired woman's forehead flutter in a slight breeze.
The chubby, brown-haired man leaves his naked harlot spice pipe to dangle in
his mouth as he claps.
The short, dusky woman starts clapping among those cheering in the back, sending a smile toward the stage.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar joins the cheers and hollers of the crowd, lifting her hands to applaud.
Pushing it off her sweat moistened face, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stops using her mask of supple white cloth, revealing a blue teardrop, superimposed over a white half moon.
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman lifts her hand in loud applause.
The freckled, light-skinned man claps boisterously, letting out a chuckle.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Un. Interesting."
With a firm smile as she approaches, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar whispers something to the ethereal, fair-haired woman .
A wide smile gracing her lips as she raises her voice, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden says, in sirihish:
"Worthy only for a gathering of the red, the white, and the yellow."
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man blinks quickly, then starts clapping with the rest of the crowd, his thick carru and cheese sandwich in his mouth as he does.
The tall, muscular man blinks, bringing hands together to clap.
The willowy, brown-haired young man observes the crowd before nodding and applauding quietly.
Proudly, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar whispers something to the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
Holding out a hand to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden says, in sirihish:
"But I think it may be the Faithful Lady's turn to talk."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar and gives a gracious nod, her black and red fringed headdress swaying.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forward.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar walks slowly down the slope, her skull-adorned ruby bracelet gleaming in the lamplight.
At your seat, the very short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask says in tribal-accented sirihish, to the trim, ashen-skinned man :
"When we get our auction shit?"
Holding his position as the short, dusky woman moves, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks down at the swarthy, aging man .
Inclining her head deeply to the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden and the ethereal, fair-haired woman , the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Let's have a round of applause once more for our bards."
Looking around, a pleased grin splitting his lips, you say, in sirihish:
"Lot's of people here. Heard it was a good show."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar has arrived from the east.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar has arrived from the east.
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar has arrived from the east.
The skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar has arrived from the east.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar claps softly again to the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden , smiling broadly.
Lifting her eyes to the pearl-haired Lirathan templar with a deep, respectful bow of her head, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"If I may now present my elder Faithful Sister Halle."
Eyes widening as he spies the skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar's group walk in, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man eats a portion of his thick sausage and cheese sandwich.
The trim, ashen-skinned man looks to the group of templars arriving from the east and slowly lowers his applauding hands and tips a nod.
The short, dusky woman claps very absently, her eyes trained on the entering group of templars.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man starts clapping once more loudly but suddenly comes to an halt as he turns toward the many templars walking in.
The tall, muscular man swivels around on the bench, looking towards the incoming group of Templars.
The sinewy, weather-worn man turns his full attention to the group clad in red and white robes and bows his head deeply.
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman looks at you.
A large entourage following her, the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar goes to stand by the small stage.
Armageddon -
Monday, November 12, 2007, 1:03 PM
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Scene: The Silverwood Estate.
This man possesses a stature that is quite elevated and a physique of
apparent might, sun-tanned,...
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