mayor
Heart & Mind
I knew it... I knew that if I would just wait a minute or two longer you would update 
Hammer and Steel
- Thread starter Tycho
- Start date
Tycho
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I knew it... I knew that if I would just wait a minute or two longer you would update
Happy to do so. Every time I enjoy updating, although it seems that no one updates or comments when I finish on another person's story until after I leave.But dear god, I am already a fifth of the way through the thread! This calls for some immedieate updating posthaste!
Which means tomorrow.
mayor
Heart & Mind
haha, well I'll be looking for it 
for now I call it a night
for now I call it a night
Verarde
Pondering Wearing A Hat
Woohoo! Repent!
SamSniped
DJ Goodboye
Wow. I go to my dad's for a couple weeks, get distracted by school and soccer, and Epsilon nearly dies while Nathaniel..well, I'm going to have to re-read that part tomorrow. I'm too tired now 
Keep up the good work, Tycho!
Keep up the good work, Tycho!
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Schmerz?
Leiden?
Geißelung?
Bereinigen?
Ich habe alles in meiner Leiden gesehen in der tiefsten Straßen, mein Leiden, dass ich gezwungen war, wie ich Arbeit für alle, die ich für meine kostbare Deutschland tun können, zu tragen. Ich arbeitete während schwarze Winde sprach abscheuliche Worte zu mir, bedrohlich und befahl mir, um alles, was sie erzählte mir, zu tun, bis ich eines Tages von den Fesseln der Sklaverei warf. Unshackled, ungebeugt, ungebrochen, ungebeugt, ich bin jetzt der Mann, der schmiedet mein eigenes Schicksal, und niemand kann mich aufhalten! Wer könnte mich aufhalten, denn jetzt habe ich überwunden.
Ein Fest für die Aas wird Brüder und Schwestern, Söhne und Töchter, Ehemänner und Ehefrauen, für die gemacht, wenn der schwarze Wind weht, die Schreie der Verdammten und die sterbende Ring mit Sicherheit zeigen, dass alle zerstört sind und konsumiert werden. Nur die mutigsten ist der härteste und die mutigsten durch die dunkelsten Tage vergehen. Will unser Volk in der Lage sein, das zu tun, oder wird sie in den Tiefen der Verzweiflung fallen und verderben, und durch das Feld von Sternen, die ihre eisige Punkte um den Hals wickeln konsumiert werden?
Das Vertrauen in mich. Ich bin dein Heil, ich bin dein Messias bin, habe ich derjenige, der dich zum Licht bringen können und das Austreiben der dunklen Uhr, schmieden ein neues Schicksal, ein neues Zeitalter, in Brand geboren, geboren in Licht, geboren im Blut. Für unser Vermächtnis wird in Blut und Feuer, Leichen und Verlust geschrieben werden, und eine Spur von Leichen Meilen breit sollen folgen. Vertraue mir, ich sage, und wir werden nie fallen, nie zusammenbrechen, nie wieder nach unten. Vertraue mir, und nie wieder runter, denn bei einem Fest für die Verdammten, sind nur ein paar Überlebende, und noch weniger sind Sieger.
Das Vertrauen in mich. Vertrauen Sie nicht andere, denn ich werde euer Führer, Ihr Retter, dein Retter, der uns in diese Empyrean Age bringen kann, von Blut und Schwerter, wie ein Wirbelwind des Todes greift das Land geworden. Ich arbeite für das Wohl aller Deutschlanders, und ich werde Rache an denen, die mir Unrecht getan, und versprechen Zerstörung zu denen, die gegen mich stehen müssen.
Wir müssen so tun.
Oder sind wir zu den dunkelsten Straßen Herkunft für immer.
Lang lebe der Staat, es lebe Deutschland, es lebe der Führer!
Translation to English.
Pain
Suffering?
Scourging?
Purging?
I have seen it all during my suffering in the deepest roads, my suffering that I was forced to bear as I labor for all that I can do for my precious Deutschland. I labored while black winds spoke hideous words to me, threatening and ordering me to do all that they told me to do, until one day I threw of the shackles of slavery. Unshackled, unbent, unbroken, unbowed, I am now the man that forges my own destiny, and none can stop me! Who could stop me, for now I have transcended.
A feast for the carrion is being made brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, for when the black wind blows, the cries of the damned and the dying ring out with certainty showing that all must be destroyed and consumed. Only the bravest, the toughest, and the most courageous shall pass through those darkest days. Will our people be able to do that, or will they fall in the depths of despair and ruin and be consumed by the field of stars that wrap their icy points around our necks?
Trust in me. I am your salvation, I am your messiah, I am the one who can bring you to the light and cast out the dark, forge a new destiny, a new age, born in fire, born in light, born in blood. For our legacy shall be written in blood and fire, corpses and loss, and a trail of bodies miles wide shall follow. Trust in me I say, and we shall never fall, never collapse, never back down. Trust in me, and never back down, for at a feast for the damned, only a few are survivors, and even fewer are victors.
Trust in me. Do not trust others, for I shall become your leader, your preserver, your savior, one that can bring us into this Empyrean Age, of blood and swords as a whirlwind of death grips the land. I work for the good of all Deutschlanders, and I shall have revenge upon those that wronged me, and promise destruction to those that stand against me.
We must do so.
Or we are consigned to the Darkest Roads forever.
Long live the state, long live Deutschland, long live the leader!
I dug this up awhile back and have been meaning to post this for awhile. I'm still being tracked and I am deeply afraid of them finding me. Making my way to what I believe will be a safe location.
I am still deeply afraid for my life. The agent program... is darker than what I expected. I am desperate to post it to you fellows, but the second I do I will be destroyed posthaste. You can silence a voice, but you can not silence a dream, an ideal.
That is what I seek in life, to help everyone see the truth that happens.
Until next time.
Long live the state and America, may we soon all see the light.
"Where is she!" Cambridge delivered another blow to the man's face. "Where is she, I know that you know where she is, so where is she?"
"I swear to god I don't know, I don't know Cambridge! Please for god's sake, I did nothing wrong, nothing wrong! I'm a good agent, is it so bad that I merely had one bad apple in my squad that turned rogue?"
"It's bad when you and her are the only ones still alive!"
"I swear to god," Harvard sniffled, "I didn't know anything about what she was planning! I was with my family that day, otherwise she would have murdered me as well, I had nothing to do with anything! I do my job, I pay my bills, I serve the nation, I do what I am supposed to do!"
"That's what Snowbell said as well before she betrayed us all." Cambridge delivered another blow to his face with a pair of spiked knuckles, leaving four bloody wounds in the other man's face, proceeding to shove him bodily onto the hood of the car and pinning him down with his forearm. "One last chance Harvard, or I will rip out your lungs and strangle you to death with them."
"You wouldn't do that, agents don't kill other agents. We serve the good of the nation for god's sake!" Harvard's lower lip trembled though in fear.
"So did Snowbell." Cambridge raised his fist once more.
"Stop. Now."
Yulai's voice cracked through the air like a rifle shot, directed squarely at his cohort Cambridge. "Leave off of him or you are like to kill him. I told you that little Snowbell was heading north to Cassius array last I heard. What good comes of interrogating him, thirty two witnesses say he had nothing to do with his group's destruction. Snowbell works alone after all."
"So he says." Even so, Cambridge let go of the man's jacket and raised his forearm off his neck. Harvard stood slowly back up, rubbing the red marks on his neck furiously.
"Now Cambridge, act nice for once in your pathetic, hideous existence and listen to orders. Get back in the van. We. Are. Leaving."
Sullenly, Cambridge moved back to the van, leaving Harvard there bandaging up his face and rubbing his neck. As soon as the pair of agents entered the van, it's wheels spun into motion and off it went, Harvard and his car being left alone in the rapidly growing worse blizzard.
"He's lying," Cambridge said as he, Yulai, Theta, Nova, and Delta huddled around the portable heater in the back of the van which cast a wonderful heat. Oxford and Epsilon sat up front as the black van containing the agents sped down the road. "Harvard knows something and he's keeping it from us."
"For the last time Cambridge, I was watching him the entire time you questioned him he was fearful."
"Proving his guilt."
"Null and void since you threatened to rip his lungs out and choke him to death with them." A game of poker had started, and so far Yulai was winning, laying down a winning hand again. "And once again, shut up."
"Stuff it up your arse there Yulai, I am not bound to you, only the agent program and protocol."
"And by protocol you have to follwo orders assigned to you by me. Understand?"
"Perfectly," Cambridge said in a sickly sweet and malicious voice. "I understand sir."
"Good."
"I'm still going to choke that massive wench to death though."
Leiden?
Geißelung?
Bereinigen?
Ich habe alles in meiner Leiden gesehen in der tiefsten Straßen, mein Leiden, dass ich gezwungen war, wie ich Arbeit für alle, die ich für meine kostbare Deutschland tun können, zu tragen. Ich arbeitete während schwarze Winde sprach abscheuliche Worte zu mir, bedrohlich und befahl mir, um alles, was sie erzählte mir, zu tun, bis ich eines Tages von den Fesseln der Sklaverei warf. Unshackled, ungebeugt, ungebrochen, ungebeugt, ich bin jetzt der Mann, der schmiedet mein eigenes Schicksal, und niemand kann mich aufhalten! Wer könnte mich aufhalten, denn jetzt habe ich überwunden.
Ein Fest für die Aas wird Brüder und Schwestern, Söhne und Töchter, Ehemänner und Ehefrauen, für die gemacht, wenn der schwarze Wind weht, die Schreie der Verdammten und die sterbende Ring mit Sicherheit zeigen, dass alle zerstört sind und konsumiert werden. Nur die mutigsten ist der härteste und die mutigsten durch die dunkelsten Tage vergehen. Will unser Volk in der Lage sein, das zu tun, oder wird sie in den Tiefen der Verzweiflung fallen und verderben, und durch das Feld von Sternen, die ihre eisige Punkte um den Hals wickeln konsumiert werden?
Das Vertrauen in mich. Ich bin dein Heil, ich bin dein Messias bin, habe ich derjenige, der dich zum Licht bringen können und das Austreiben der dunklen Uhr, schmieden ein neues Schicksal, ein neues Zeitalter, in Brand geboren, geboren in Licht, geboren im Blut. Für unser Vermächtnis wird in Blut und Feuer, Leichen und Verlust geschrieben werden, und eine Spur von Leichen Meilen breit sollen folgen. Vertraue mir, ich sage, und wir werden nie fallen, nie zusammenbrechen, nie wieder nach unten. Vertraue mir, und nie wieder runter, denn bei einem Fest für die Verdammten, sind nur ein paar Überlebende, und noch weniger sind Sieger.
Das Vertrauen in mich. Vertrauen Sie nicht andere, denn ich werde euer Führer, Ihr Retter, dein Retter, der uns in diese Empyrean Age bringen kann, von Blut und Schwerter, wie ein Wirbelwind des Todes greift das Land geworden. Ich arbeite für das Wohl aller Deutschlanders, und ich werde Rache an denen, die mir Unrecht getan, und versprechen Zerstörung zu denen, die gegen mich stehen müssen.
Wir müssen so tun.
Oder sind wir zu den dunkelsten Straßen Herkunft für immer.
Lang lebe der Staat, es lebe Deutschland, es lebe der Führer!
Translation to English.
Pain
Suffering?
Scourging?
Purging?
I have seen it all during my suffering in the deepest roads, my suffering that I was forced to bear as I labor for all that I can do for my precious Deutschland. I labored while black winds spoke hideous words to me, threatening and ordering me to do all that they told me to do, until one day I threw of the shackles of slavery. Unshackled, unbent, unbroken, unbowed, I am now the man that forges my own destiny, and none can stop me! Who could stop me, for now I have transcended.
A feast for the carrion is being made brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, for when the black wind blows, the cries of the damned and the dying ring out with certainty showing that all must be destroyed and consumed. Only the bravest, the toughest, and the most courageous shall pass through those darkest days. Will our people be able to do that, or will they fall in the depths of despair and ruin and be consumed by the field of stars that wrap their icy points around our necks?
Trust in me. I am your salvation, I am your messiah, I am the one who can bring you to the light and cast out the dark, forge a new destiny, a new age, born in fire, born in light, born in blood. For our legacy shall be written in blood and fire, corpses and loss, and a trail of bodies miles wide shall follow. Trust in me I say, and we shall never fall, never collapse, never back down. Trust in me, and never back down, for at a feast for the damned, only a few are survivors, and even fewer are victors.
Trust in me. Do not trust others, for I shall become your leader, your preserver, your savior, one that can bring us into this Empyrean Age, of blood and swords as a whirlwind of death grips the land. I work for the good of all Deutschlanders, and I shall have revenge upon those that wronged me, and promise destruction to those that stand against me.
We must do so.
Or we are consigned to the Darkest Roads forever.
Long live the state, long live Deutschland, long live the leader!
I dug this up awhile back and have been meaning to post this for awhile. I'm still being tracked and I am deeply afraid of them finding me. Making my way to what I believe will be a safe location.
I am still deeply afraid for my life. The agent program... is darker than what I expected. I am desperate to post it to you fellows, but the second I do I will be destroyed posthaste. You can silence a voice, but you can not silence a dream, an ideal.
That is what I seek in life, to help everyone see the truth that happens.
Until next time.
Long live the state and America, may we soon all see the light.
"Where is she!" Cambridge delivered another blow to the man's face. "Where is she, I know that you know where she is, so where is she?"
"I swear to god I don't know, I don't know Cambridge! Please for god's sake, I did nothing wrong, nothing wrong! I'm a good agent, is it so bad that I merely had one bad apple in my squad that turned rogue?"
"It's bad when you and her are the only ones still alive!"
"I swear to god," Harvard sniffled, "I didn't know anything about what she was planning! I was with my family that day, otherwise she would have murdered me as well, I had nothing to do with anything! I do my job, I pay my bills, I serve the nation, I do what I am supposed to do!"
"That's what Snowbell said as well before she betrayed us all." Cambridge delivered another blow to his face with a pair of spiked knuckles, leaving four bloody wounds in the other man's face, proceeding to shove him bodily onto the hood of the car and pinning him down with his forearm. "One last chance Harvard, or I will rip out your lungs and strangle you to death with them."
"You wouldn't do that, agents don't kill other agents. We serve the good of the nation for god's sake!" Harvard's lower lip trembled though in fear.
"So did Snowbell." Cambridge raised his fist once more.
"Stop. Now."
Yulai's voice cracked through the air like a rifle shot, directed squarely at his cohort Cambridge. "Leave off of him or you are like to kill him. I told you that little Snowbell was heading north to Cassius array last I heard. What good comes of interrogating him, thirty two witnesses say he had nothing to do with his group's destruction. Snowbell works alone after all."
"So he says." Even so, Cambridge let go of the man's jacket and raised his forearm off his neck. Harvard stood slowly back up, rubbing the red marks on his neck furiously.
"Now Cambridge, act nice for once in your pathetic, hideous existence and listen to orders. Get back in the van. We. Are. Leaving."
Sullenly, Cambridge moved back to the van, leaving Harvard there bandaging up his face and rubbing his neck. As soon as the pair of agents entered the van, it's wheels spun into motion and off it went, Harvard and his car being left alone in the rapidly growing worse blizzard.
"He's lying," Cambridge said as he, Yulai, Theta, Nova, and Delta huddled around the portable heater in the back of the van which cast a wonderful heat. Oxford and Epsilon sat up front as the black van containing the agents sped down the road. "Harvard knows something and he's keeping it from us."
"For the last time Cambridge, I was watching him the entire time you questioned him he was fearful."
"Proving his guilt."
"Null and void since you threatened to rip his lungs out and choke him to death with them." A game of poker had started, and so far Yulai was winning, laying down a winning hand again. "And once again, shut up."
"Stuff it up your arse there Yulai, I am not bound to you, only the agent program and protocol."
"And by protocol you have to follwo orders assigned to you by me. Understand?"
"Perfectly," Cambridge said in a sickly sweet and malicious voice. "I understand sir."
"Good."
"I'm still going to choke that massive wench to death though."
hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Messages
- 5,470
Eine große Update wie immer!
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
Uppdat? Updatenstien? Upathausen?
Great job!
Great job!
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Caparin's Tale in the Deep Roads, part 3
Dark Discoveries in the Deep
A loose piece of the staircase gave way, the dark stone tumbling away into the void of the Deep Crater as Caparin struggled to regain his footing. A packet containing some of his food unsnapped itself from his belt and tumbled down into the crater as well, past a river of running flame that licked at eagerly. At least it wasn't all of his rations; still enough fruit and extra meat to weigh down on his back heavily, and plenty of water as well.
Regaining his footing, he caught his breath and tried to stop his heart from quaking. The fall down into the crater would have killed him, with those black stone spikes that were doubtlessly at the bottom of the crater, waiting for another victim to fall to their death. Caparin was suitably determined not to let that happen to him.
The staircase stretched downwards, down and down and down it went till the bottom dissapeared from sight in a foggy mist created by water and fire meating down below. It was cool by the time it reached the top of the staircase that descended down into the depths, but was warmer the farther down it went until it beaded finely on the brow of Caparin. Because of that, and the numerous dead bodies impaled or crushed beneath stone, there was a heady rotting smell that could be detected when you were near or close to the presence of the bodies. These Deep Roads claimed many travelers that tried to breach their depths, but Caparin's goal to get that flower would not be deterred. He'd damn well get it, or die trying.
As he continued down, he marveled at the fine masonry that the people who had created this place had wrought. It was beautiful all things considered, and therefore quite interesting, along with the patterned glyphs that they had inscribed upon the walls. In this light, they glowed faintly with a greenish hue. They wouldn't flake, nor deteriorate, and when scratched only a thin, sticky film would come off of them and stick to Caparin's fingers like tree sap.
It took him most of what he thought was a day until he reached the bottom, a momentous achievement he celebrated with two oranges and a a link of bird meat kept together by strips of string. As he munched happily away in solitude, he gazed over the bottom of the pit, finding it to be quite different than what he initially had thought it to be. Instead of spikes, there were a lot of stony, rectangular formations, oddly blocky. Not spiked at all, they posed no threat to him-
Wait.
Those weren't spikes, but rectangular stone shapes? That meant only one thing.
Coffins.
He edged nervously towards them, the tales that his mother and aunt had said to him when he was a little child coming back to him now. And in those roads they found a horrid monstrosity, kept within the darkest corners, and within those darkest corners, it awoke when the travelers came upon it. The beast rose and tore them to pieces, feasting upon a banquet of flesh and blood, one that poured down the stairs and mixed with the waters, crimson tears spattering the walls. And the beast loved it's meal, eagerly awaiting more travelers coming into it's domain. And they would always end the story with a smile and a biting act that had made a little Caparin giggle. Now....
No. He would not let old legends and fairy tales get the better of him. He was a man on an important mission to save his leader and old friend, and he was damned well not going to let old fables get the best of him. I am a man, not a frightened woman or a child. Besides, what could possibly harm me? I'm a warrior, I know how to use a sword, and I can fight well anytime I want. I'm just going to take a peak after all...
He moved towards one of the closer ones. Glyphs covered it, inscribed in three rows, as if it was a name of sorts.
Okay, now that was just a tad bit creepier than hell.
A little catch on the right and left sides of the opposite end of the glyphs could be felt after Caparin put down a little torch to provide himself with some light. Try as he might, he could not raise the lid with his bare hands.
Has to be something around here to use...
Twenty minutes of searching later, nothing turned up except for some little pieces of stone and fingerbones of a splintered skeleton. Despairing, Caparin slumped down on the lid of the coffin and chewed absentmindedly on some chicken jerky. Well that was a waste of time. Might as well pack up my stuff and my torches and head on out-
He bolted up. Torches. Attached to thick wood able to lift logs. Caparin slapped himself in the face and quickly pulled out two torches, taking the charcoal bits off. He inserted them under the little catch and pushed the wooden pieces downward. Like magic, the top of the thing sloughed off and fell to the floor with a thud.
Smiling to himself, he picked up his torch and peered inside of the lid, hoping to find treasure. The smile sloughed off of his face like the lid of the coffin.
Inside of the stone tomb was a body.
His body.
Hands clasped around a black blade, eyes closed and skin pale and pasty. It was him, clear as day... yet it wasn't him. He wasn't dead yet.
Caparin stepped back, accidentally dropping the torch to the ground. It's feeble light flickered as a dark shape rose out of the coffin, it's hands gripping the sides and pushing itself upright. Caparin shrank back further along the wall, almost tripping over his pack in the process.
"Hello me," the dark shape said as amber eyes winked open. "It's good to see you again."
The figure strode closer as Caparin fainted and hit the floor.
Dark Discoveries in the Deep
A loose piece of the staircase gave way, the dark stone tumbling away into the void of the Deep Crater as Caparin struggled to regain his footing. A packet containing some of his food unsnapped itself from his belt and tumbled down into the crater as well, past a river of running flame that licked at eagerly. At least it wasn't all of his rations; still enough fruit and extra meat to weigh down on his back heavily, and plenty of water as well.
Regaining his footing, he caught his breath and tried to stop his heart from quaking. The fall down into the crater would have killed him, with those black stone spikes that were doubtlessly at the bottom of the crater, waiting for another victim to fall to their death. Caparin was suitably determined not to let that happen to him.
The staircase stretched downwards, down and down and down it went till the bottom dissapeared from sight in a foggy mist created by water and fire meating down below. It was cool by the time it reached the top of the staircase that descended down into the depths, but was warmer the farther down it went until it beaded finely on the brow of Caparin. Because of that, and the numerous dead bodies impaled or crushed beneath stone, there was a heady rotting smell that could be detected when you were near or close to the presence of the bodies. These Deep Roads claimed many travelers that tried to breach their depths, but Caparin's goal to get that flower would not be deterred. He'd damn well get it, or die trying.
As he continued down, he marveled at the fine masonry that the people who had created this place had wrought. It was beautiful all things considered, and therefore quite interesting, along with the patterned glyphs that they had inscribed upon the walls. In this light, they glowed faintly with a greenish hue. They wouldn't flake, nor deteriorate, and when scratched only a thin, sticky film would come off of them and stick to Caparin's fingers like tree sap.
It took him most of what he thought was a day until he reached the bottom, a momentous achievement he celebrated with two oranges and a a link of bird meat kept together by strips of string. As he munched happily away in solitude, he gazed over the bottom of the pit, finding it to be quite different than what he initially had thought it to be. Instead of spikes, there were a lot of stony, rectangular formations, oddly blocky. Not spiked at all, they posed no threat to him-
Wait.
Those weren't spikes, but rectangular stone shapes? That meant only one thing.
Coffins.
He edged nervously towards them, the tales that his mother and aunt had said to him when he was a little child coming back to him now. And in those roads they found a horrid monstrosity, kept within the darkest corners, and within those darkest corners, it awoke when the travelers came upon it. The beast rose and tore them to pieces, feasting upon a banquet of flesh and blood, one that poured down the stairs and mixed with the waters, crimson tears spattering the walls. And the beast loved it's meal, eagerly awaiting more travelers coming into it's domain. And they would always end the story with a smile and a biting act that had made a little Caparin giggle. Now....
No. He would not let old legends and fairy tales get the better of him. He was a man on an important mission to save his leader and old friend, and he was damned well not going to let old fables get the best of him. I am a man, not a frightened woman or a child. Besides, what could possibly harm me? I'm a warrior, I know how to use a sword, and I can fight well anytime I want. I'm just going to take a peak after all...
He moved towards one of the closer ones. Glyphs covered it, inscribed in three rows, as if it was a name of sorts.
Okay, now that was just a tad bit creepier than hell.
A little catch on the right and left sides of the opposite end of the glyphs could be felt after Caparin put down a little torch to provide himself with some light. Try as he might, he could not raise the lid with his bare hands.
Has to be something around here to use...
Twenty minutes of searching later, nothing turned up except for some little pieces of stone and fingerbones of a splintered skeleton. Despairing, Caparin slumped down on the lid of the coffin and chewed absentmindedly on some chicken jerky. Well that was a waste of time. Might as well pack up my stuff and my torches and head on out-
He bolted up. Torches. Attached to thick wood able to lift logs. Caparin slapped himself in the face and quickly pulled out two torches, taking the charcoal bits off. He inserted them under the little catch and pushed the wooden pieces downward. Like magic, the top of the thing sloughed off and fell to the floor with a thud.
Smiling to himself, he picked up his torch and peered inside of the lid, hoping to find treasure. The smile sloughed off of his face like the lid of the coffin.
Inside of the stone tomb was a body.
His body.
Hands clasped around a black blade, eyes closed and skin pale and pasty. It was him, clear as day... yet it wasn't him. He wasn't dead yet.
Caparin stepped back, accidentally dropping the torch to the ground. It's feeble light flickered as a dark shape rose out of the coffin, it's hands gripping the sides and pushing itself upright. Caparin shrank back further along the wall, almost tripping over his pack in the process.
"Hello me," the dark shape said as amber eyes winked open. "It's good to see you again."
The figure strode closer as Caparin fainted and hit the floor.
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
That... was... amazing. MOAR.
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Tomorrow.
Which means next week.
For Epsilon and Cambridge that is.
Next part starts tomorrow concerning Caparin.
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Caparin's Tale in the Deep Roads, part 4
The price of a Soul and a Dream.
Ką mes čia bičiulius?Kitas keleivis, kad szarpnęły į mūsų domeno čia?
Caparin heard them barely as he was dragged along the floor, speaking in a highly fluid tongue.
You wish to here?
"Yes..."
"Taip, mes turime kitą keliautojas, suklupo. is vyras pavelgė į savo juoda siela savarankikai.Gana greitai jis apalpo. Yes, we have another traveler that stumbled in. This man looked at his own black soul self. Quite quick he fainted off."
"Interesting. Quite interesting to be precise."
"What do we do with him now sir, feed him to the Accursed?"
"Not yet. I'm going to question him first."
Their voices were then and light, liquid flowing through Caparin's ears as he cracked his eyes open. Blue flame torches flickered as they were held aloft by the shapeless black forms as they dragged him deeper into the Deep Roads. Flames flickered along some of the walls and open hollows filled with blood red stone, providing light in the absence of the liquid fire that had been previously seen.
He could here someone else praying off far away in a tongue that was stranger than the ones these people that carried him spoke. "Duwiau o'r ffyrdd yr ydym yn teithio, cadw ni'n ddiogel yn y lle hwn, o angenfilod a gythreuliaid, dreigiau a Phantoms, y cyfan a allai fod o bosibl yn ceisio gwneud niwed i ni. Nid ydym yn gofyn am y fath beth i drafferth ni yn ein taith i ni gario teithwyr gyda ni, un yr ydym wedi dod o hyd uchod yn Siambr y Ddewiswyd, un yr ydym yn ceisio cynnal caeth nes ein bod yn gwybod beth i'w wneud. Duwiau ein harwain yn y gwaith yn ein dywyllaf, ar gyfer yr Oes Cyntaf yn awr yn dod i ben, un sy'n ei eni mewn heddwch a chariad ac yn dod i ben mewn tân uffern a marwolaeth efallai, rydym yn gwarchod hyd yr dod i ben o amser a hyd y lleuad y Du cysgod o Drefynwy Cynyddol dros y bryniau a'r mynyddoedd a gorchuddion y byd o fewn ei glogyn ac yn arwain ni i mewn i oes newydd wrth i ni lithro y bondiau surly yr hyn yr ydym yn eu geni i mewn i, ac efallai y byddwn yn cael eu harwain yn ein quests sanctaidd i wneud yr hyn rydym yn a rhaid ei wneud wrth i ni bydd. Mis Mai bob un sy'n gwrthwynebu i ni syrthio cyn ein llafnau a'n cysgodion, er ein bod yn dewis y rhai yr ydych wedi dewis duwiau a duwiesau, y rhai yr ydych yn dewis i arwain y bobl yr ydym wedi tyngu llw i arwain a diogelu ar gyfer pob dragwyddoldeb. Mai y morthwyl arian yr un fyddant yn galw Marwolaeth y Greadigaeth daro i lawr gan fod y morthwyl yn disgyn tua'r gorllewin tuag at yr einion, dal y meibion ​​y duwiau chwythu a'i gadawsant bod ni i gyd yn ein awr tywyllaf. Boed i'r rhai brodyr chwythu o ni yn marw mewn poen ac mewn poen yn y pyllau dyfnaf y gwyntoedd pydru a chreaduriaid bydd y dagrau yn eu wahân tan y diwedd cyfnod a dechrau fel y ouroborus sydd yn y olwyn o gylchoedd amser o gwmpas ac yn cwblhau ei cylched unwaith eto. Ar gyfer y byd ei eni ym tân a chreu a fydd yn mynd allan yn y fflam a poen. Duwiau gwylio dros ni nawr. Mawl i'r duwiau a'r duwiesau yr."
That figure repeated the same prayer until Caparin knew it by heart, as well as it's translation. With every step his eyes remained lidded and seeing only vague shapes as the words echoed round and round in his head. "Gods of the roads that we travel, keep us safe in this place, from monsters and demons, dragons and phantoms, all that could possibly seek to do us harm." Bells clanged and clashed as one step went forward. "We do not seek such a thing to trouble us in our journey for we carry a traveler with us, one that we have found above in the Chamber of the Chosen, one who we seek to hold captive until we know what to do." More bells, and the jingle of little ones as well. "Gods guide us in this our darkest times, for the First Age now comes to an end, one that was born in peace and love and ends in hell fire and death, may we protected till the ends of time and till the moon of the Black Shadow of Monmouth Rises over the hills and the mountains and wraps the world within it's cloak and leads us into a new age as we slip the surly bonds of what we were born into, and may we be guided in our holy quests to do what we must and do as we shall." Bells, bells, bells and more bells that mixed with the words in an otherworldly feeling. "May all that oppose us fall before our blades and our shadows, for we are the chosen ones that you have selected gods and goddesses, the ones that you selected to lead the people that we have sworn to lead and protect for all eternity. May the silver hammer of the one they call Death of Creation strike down as the hammer falls westward towards the anvil, trapping the sons of the blasted gods that forsook us all in our darkest hour. May those blasted brothers of ours die in pain and in agony in the deepest pits of rotting winds and creatures that shall tear them apart till the end of time and the beginning of it as the ouroborus that is the wheel of time circles around and completes it's circuit once more. For the world was born in fire and creation and shall go out in flame and agony. Gods watch over us now. Praise to the gods and the goddesses."
The further they went, the more the man/thing/creature/demon thingy said himself. "Gods of the roads that we travel, keep us safe in this place, from monsters and demons, dragons and phantoms, all that could possibly seek to do us harm...." It was maddening not being able to move and having to listen to that man speak his words, his prayers whose meaning Caparin could not fully comprehend. "Rydym yn gwneud yr hyn mae'n rhaid i ni ar gyfer yr holl ddynion yn marw rhaid i, ac yn y gwagle ar ôl marwolaeth ni wylio ein creadigaethau bwrw gwreiddiau ac yn tyfu o hadau eu bod yn Crafted gan, yn ein meddyliau, ein calonnau, ac yn ein dwylo. We do what we must for all men must die, and in the void after death we watch our creations take root and grow from the seeds that they were crafted from, in our minds, our hearts, and our hands."
All men must die, all men must die, all men must die, all men must die.... The words echoed off of the walls now, just what Caparin wanted here. The worst thing about dry sarcasm is that you need others to listen in otherwise it isn't particularly funny, nor witty, nor amusing in the slightest. He considered cracking his lips and speaking to these people, but when he tried to speak only a dry rattle of his throat came out.
"He seems to be regaining his head."
"Excellent, he can talk to Dacha when he fully awakes."
"Before or after we leave him out for the Accursed One?"
"Preferably before, but if Dacha isn't there when we arrive...." A thin, dry laugh took up between three of the figures as the blue fingers of flame flickered and guttered.
"Mae pris enaid, y pris enaid, beth yw pris eich syr enaid yn dda? Beth yw pris eich enaid y frân ddywedodd, y gellir fy wledd ar eich enaid os wyf yn rhoi i chi eich corff? Mae masnach deg neu ddim o gwbl, y byddai un yr ydych yn dewis, pa un fyddai'n gennych chi? The price of a soul, the price of a soul, what is the price of your soul good sir? What is the price of your soul the crow said, may I feast on your soul if I give you your body? A fair trade or no, which one would you pick, which one would you have?" The praying continued, making about as much sense as it had earlier. Which is to say; none whatsoever.
"Water," hissed Caparin at one point. He regretted it rather quickly when they first attempted to pour water into his nostrils before he sputtered. Drinking the water while his nostrils and the back of his throat burned was bad, but the water was not even cool and good. Rather, it was warm and had a sharp mineral taste to it.
Hours passed, days, years, decades, centuries, till Caparin had trouble remembering his name. They dropped him a few times yes, and the scrapes pulsed every now and then in a feeling of pain. Water was given to him a few times, but not often enough for his liking as they continued to go down.
"We have arrived," one of them said in a quiet voice.
"Indeed," said another. "Is it not beautiful?"
Caparin lifted his eyes and sucked in his breath in awe. Even through his lidded eyes he could see what it was.
A massive black structure, a fort or something, filled with flickering blue light that gleamed from torches and fires and whatnot. It was ominous yet beautiful at the same sight.
Hovering over a giant lake and connected to the tunnels by a bridge also helped that out. Just a pinch.
The price of a Soul and a Dream.
Ką mes čia bičiulius?Kitas keleivis, kad szarpnęły į mūsų domeno čia?
Caparin heard them barely as he was dragged along the floor, speaking in a highly fluid tongue.
You wish to here?
"Yes..."
"Taip, mes turime kitą keliautojas, suklupo. is vyras pavelgė į savo juoda siela savarankikai.Gana greitai jis apalpo. Yes, we have another traveler that stumbled in. This man looked at his own black soul self. Quite quick he fainted off."
"Interesting. Quite interesting to be precise."
"What do we do with him now sir, feed him to the Accursed?"
"Not yet. I'm going to question him first."
Their voices were then and light, liquid flowing through Caparin's ears as he cracked his eyes open. Blue flame torches flickered as they were held aloft by the shapeless black forms as they dragged him deeper into the Deep Roads. Flames flickered along some of the walls and open hollows filled with blood red stone, providing light in the absence of the liquid fire that had been previously seen.
He could here someone else praying off far away in a tongue that was stranger than the ones these people that carried him spoke. "Duwiau o'r ffyrdd yr ydym yn teithio, cadw ni'n ddiogel yn y lle hwn, o angenfilod a gythreuliaid, dreigiau a Phantoms, y cyfan a allai fod o bosibl yn ceisio gwneud niwed i ni. Nid ydym yn gofyn am y fath beth i drafferth ni yn ein taith i ni gario teithwyr gyda ni, un yr ydym wedi dod o hyd uchod yn Siambr y Ddewiswyd, un yr ydym yn ceisio cynnal caeth nes ein bod yn gwybod beth i'w wneud. Duwiau ein harwain yn y gwaith yn ein dywyllaf, ar gyfer yr Oes Cyntaf yn awr yn dod i ben, un sy'n ei eni mewn heddwch a chariad ac yn dod i ben mewn tân uffern a marwolaeth efallai, rydym yn gwarchod hyd yr dod i ben o amser a hyd y lleuad y Du cysgod o Drefynwy Cynyddol dros y bryniau a'r mynyddoedd a gorchuddion y byd o fewn ei glogyn ac yn arwain ni i mewn i oes newydd wrth i ni lithro y bondiau surly yr hyn yr ydym yn eu geni i mewn i, ac efallai y byddwn yn cael eu harwain yn ein quests sanctaidd i wneud yr hyn rydym yn a rhaid ei wneud wrth i ni bydd. Mis Mai bob un sy'n gwrthwynebu i ni syrthio cyn ein llafnau a'n cysgodion, er ein bod yn dewis y rhai yr ydych wedi dewis duwiau a duwiesau, y rhai yr ydych yn dewis i arwain y bobl yr ydym wedi tyngu llw i arwain a diogelu ar gyfer pob dragwyddoldeb. Mai y morthwyl arian yr un fyddant yn galw Marwolaeth y Greadigaeth daro i lawr gan fod y morthwyl yn disgyn tua'r gorllewin tuag at yr einion, dal y meibion ​​y duwiau chwythu a'i gadawsant bod ni i gyd yn ein awr tywyllaf. Boed i'r rhai brodyr chwythu o ni yn marw mewn poen ac mewn poen yn y pyllau dyfnaf y gwyntoedd pydru a chreaduriaid bydd y dagrau yn eu wahân tan y diwedd cyfnod a dechrau fel y ouroborus sydd yn y olwyn o gylchoedd amser o gwmpas ac yn cwblhau ei cylched unwaith eto. Ar gyfer y byd ei eni ym tân a chreu a fydd yn mynd allan yn y fflam a poen. Duwiau gwylio dros ni nawr. Mawl i'r duwiau a'r duwiesau yr."
That figure repeated the same prayer until Caparin knew it by heart, as well as it's translation. With every step his eyes remained lidded and seeing only vague shapes as the words echoed round and round in his head. "Gods of the roads that we travel, keep us safe in this place, from monsters and demons, dragons and phantoms, all that could possibly seek to do us harm." Bells clanged and clashed as one step went forward. "We do not seek such a thing to trouble us in our journey for we carry a traveler with us, one that we have found above in the Chamber of the Chosen, one who we seek to hold captive until we know what to do." More bells, and the jingle of little ones as well. "Gods guide us in this our darkest times, for the First Age now comes to an end, one that was born in peace and love and ends in hell fire and death, may we protected till the ends of time and till the moon of the Black Shadow of Monmouth Rises over the hills and the mountains and wraps the world within it's cloak and leads us into a new age as we slip the surly bonds of what we were born into, and may we be guided in our holy quests to do what we must and do as we shall." Bells, bells, bells and more bells that mixed with the words in an otherworldly feeling. "May all that oppose us fall before our blades and our shadows, for we are the chosen ones that you have selected gods and goddesses, the ones that you selected to lead the people that we have sworn to lead and protect for all eternity. May the silver hammer of the one they call Death of Creation strike down as the hammer falls westward towards the anvil, trapping the sons of the blasted gods that forsook us all in our darkest hour. May those blasted brothers of ours die in pain and in agony in the deepest pits of rotting winds and creatures that shall tear them apart till the end of time and the beginning of it as the ouroborus that is the wheel of time circles around and completes it's circuit once more. For the world was born in fire and creation and shall go out in flame and agony. Gods watch over us now. Praise to the gods and the goddesses."
The further they went, the more the man/thing/creature/demon thingy said himself. "Gods of the roads that we travel, keep us safe in this place, from monsters and demons, dragons and phantoms, all that could possibly seek to do us harm...." It was maddening not being able to move and having to listen to that man speak his words, his prayers whose meaning Caparin could not fully comprehend. "Rydym yn gwneud yr hyn mae'n rhaid i ni ar gyfer yr holl ddynion yn marw rhaid i, ac yn y gwagle ar ôl marwolaeth ni wylio ein creadigaethau bwrw gwreiddiau ac yn tyfu o hadau eu bod yn Crafted gan, yn ein meddyliau, ein calonnau, ac yn ein dwylo. We do what we must for all men must die, and in the void after death we watch our creations take root and grow from the seeds that they were crafted from, in our minds, our hearts, and our hands."
All men must die, all men must die, all men must die, all men must die.... The words echoed off of the walls now, just what Caparin wanted here. The worst thing about dry sarcasm is that you need others to listen in otherwise it isn't particularly funny, nor witty, nor amusing in the slightest. He considered cracking his lips and speaking to these people, but when he tried to speak only a dry rattle of his throat came out.
"He seems to be regaining his head."
"Excellent, he can talk to Dacha when he fully awakes."
"Before or after we leave him out for the Accursed One?"
"Preferably before, but if Dacha isn't there when we arrive...." A thin, dry laugh took up between three of the figures as the blue fingers of flame flickered and guttered.
"Mae pris enaid, y pris enaid, beth yw pris eich syr enaid yn dda? Beth yw pris eich enaid y frân ddywedodd, y gellir fy wledd ar eich enaid os wyf yn rhoi i chi eich corff? Mae masnach deg neu ddim o gwbl, y byddai un yr ydych yn dewis, pa un fyddai'n gennych chi? The price of a soul, the price of a soul, what is the price of your soul good sir? What is the price of your soul the crow said, may I feast on your soul if I give you your body? A fair trade or no, which one would you pick, which one would you have?" The praying continued, making about as much sense as it had earlier. Which is to say; none whatsoever.
"Water," hissed Caparin at one point. He regretted it rather quickly when they first attempted to pour water into his nostrils before he sputtered. Drinking the water while his nostrils and the back of his throat burned was bad, but the water was not even cool and good. Rather, it was warm and had a sharp mineral taste to it.
Hours passed, days, years, decades, centuries, till Caparin had trouble remembering his name. They dropped him a few times yes, and the scrapes pulsed every now and then in a feeling of pain. Water was given to him a few times, but not often enough for his liking as they continued to go down.
"We have arrived," one of them said in a quiet voice.
"Indeed," said another. "Is it not beautiful?"
Caparin lifted his eyes and sucked in his breath in awe. Even through his lidded eyes he could see what it was.
A massive black structure, a fort or something, filled with flickering blue light that gleamed from torches and fires and whatnot. It was ominous yet beautiful at the same sight.
Hovering over a giant lake and connected to the tunnels by a bridge also helped that out. Just a pinch.
hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
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What turn are we on in the civ game?
mayor
Heart & Mind
We are about one turn later than the initial one that I showed in the last picture so far in this story. That's because I am stretching it out a bit to allow some surprise with the next guest that will show up.
He might be a couple of turns further into the actual game.... not that it really matters....
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
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- Jul 31, 2011
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A Mad King, part 6
The Burials and the Meeting on the High Mount
They said that Nathanial had stumbled back into camp half a day after the battle had been over, bleeding from head to toe and covered up in bruises. Scouts reported that the Stitched Man that had started the attack had been beaten to death so fiercely there that he was not quickly identifiable from the bodies of the dead scouts and the others. Burning the Stitched Man's body had not worked, as the flames flickered out whenever they touched the man's body, so eventually they just had to rip it pieces and cast it piece by piece into a massive bonfire. The wolves were also tossed into there, reminders of all of the dead scouts that had been killed during the fighting.
Yaren had been killed and brought down by one wolf, but not before stabbing said wolf in the face with a concealed knife as well as another before succumbing to his wounds. Second in command Shasta was brought down as well, cutting down so many wolves that the Stitched Man had dealt with him personally, cutting him in half lengthwise with one fell swoop of his sword. Gorin and Harin died as well, lit on fire from a fallen torch as they took down dozens of wolves as well. And Zane... stabbed in the neck after attempting to confront the Stitched Man with several others. Troika had been taken down and was still in a comatose state when Nathanial awoke from his own wounds, while Havnar and Zach had recovered but had not seen much after they had been injured.
The burials brought all of the scouts up into the sunlight on a windswept field one day as the sun blazed bright in the sky. By all accounts, a storm that would have ripped the Earth a new hole would have been better for the number of bodies that were entombed. Seventy four bodies were buried, two more soon after as Laise and Kvatch succumbed to their own wounds and passed from the living world into the world of the dead.
Nathanial recovered enough for him to travel with everyone else, and the injured were carried about by stretchers and whatnot. Ulysses, acting commander, wanted nothing to do with the Deep Roads at this point, and ordered everyone not to say a single word about what had happened there. Needless to say, the first man that let slip something to a wandering tribe of people had his mouth sewn shut.
From time to time, he'd here a whisper on a wind that wasn't really there, something speaking to him as if from a far distance, preceded always by Nathanial's scars twitching and burning. It was rather eerie but it was not disturbing.
Troika and Havnar still ate their meals with him, but the amount of chatter that they had all shared before was cut down rather quickly. Zach didn't bother coming around much of the time. He was always off wandering aimlessly around their camp as they settled down for the night, not doing much of anything. His eyes were always dulled at this point, and he barely ate a bite of food. The death of his twin brother had offset him quite a bit.
Traveling filled most of their time, and occasionally they would send scouts out in large groups to go hunt for small game and animals that they could easily take down. Ulysses was merely being paranoid, everyone knew that, but he had a right to be. Seven scouts turned up dead after a second scouting session was sent out, and from that point on the large groups started going.
"More gruel," Havnar said mournfully. He'd washed and cleaned his fingernails, cutting them neatly with a knife one evening, and looked rather decent for once. He looked dejectedly down into the bowl. A thin white mush of stuff with some bits of meat had been heated over the fires, with some occasional pinches of herbs and whatever spices they could throw in. Still, it was a relatively bland meal they had every night, but all of the bread had been tainted as well as most of the corn they had gathered before leaving Washington.
"Get used to it Havnar," Troika said grimly as he drained a glass. "This is all that we will be eating unless we meet a new sort of people out here in the wildlands."
"Which is about as likely as me shatting out a double rainbow and gold coins." Havnar made a face and spooned some of the food into his mouth.
Nathanial stirred the food listlessly, eating only a little bit here and there, sipping occasionally at a cup of ale that they had. Watered down to keep the ale supplies up, so there was about as much chance of that happening as them finding more people out here in the wildlands.
Havnar's violent eyes were rheumy and rather lidded from tiredness, the violet irises still sharp and clear however. He still hadn't mentioned how he had known that those wolf things were about to swoop down upon the camp.
"I think you jinxed us Havnar," Troika muttered out of his mouth as he held the bitterglass sword aloft. And for good reason too; the other group of people had swept down upon their camp thinking that they were barbarians.
Ulysses stood at the head of the Amerikan scouts, brandishing his own wickedly sharp tearingglass blade. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your fine company gentlemen?"
One stepped forward, thin and light, dark haired. "My name is Edward," he called out. "And we owe this pleasure to the gods. May I ask your name?"
"Ulysses of Amerika."
"We are of England, a fine people to the south. You?"
"Well we are- oh ho ho good sir, you almost got me there. But let us not brandish weapons at each other. Let us parlay."
"Indeed," said Edward as he sheathed his sword. His golden eyes flashed as he smiled at Ulysses. "Indeed we shall."
The Burials and the Meeting on the High Mount
They said that Nathanial had stumbled back into camp half a day after the battle had been over, bleeding from head to toe and covered up in bruises. Scouts reported that the Stitched Man that had started the attack had been beaten to death so fiercely there that he was not quickly identifiable from the bodies of the dead scouts and the others. Burning the Stitched Man's body had not worked, as the flames flickered out whenever they touched the man's body, so eventually they just had to rip it pieces and cast it piece by piece into a massive bonfire. The wolves were also tossed into there, reminders of all of the dead scouts that had been killed during the fighting.
Yaren had been killed and brought down by one wolf, but not before stabbing said wolf in the face with a concealed knife as well as another before succumbing to his wounds. Second in command Shasta was brought down as well, cutting down so many wolves that the Stitched Man had dealt with him personally, cutting him in half lengthwise with one fell swoop of his sword. Gorin and Harin died as well, lit on fire from a fallen torch as they took down dozens of wolves as well. And Zane... stabbed in the neck after attempting to confront the Stitched Man with several others. Troika had been taken down and was still in a comatose state when Nathanial awoke from his own wounds, while Havnar and Zach had recovered but had not seen much after they had been injured.
The burials brought all of the scouts up into the sunlight on a windswept field one day as the sun blazed bright in the sky. By all accounts, a storm that would have ripped the Earth a new hole would have been better for the number of bodies that were entombed. Seventy four bodies were buried, two more soon after as Laise and Kvatch succumbed to their own wounds and passed from the living world into the world of the dead.
Nathanial recovered enough for him to travel with everyone else, and the injured were carried about by stretchers and whatnot. Ulysses, acting commander, wanted nothing to do with the Deep Roads at this point, and ordered everyone not to say a single word about what had happened there. Needless to say, the first man that let slip something to a wandering tribe of people had his mouth sewn shut.
From time to time, he'd here a whisper on a wind that wasn't really there, something speaking to him as if from a far distance, preceded always by Nathanial's scars twitching and burning. It was rather eerie but it was not disturbing.
Troika and Havnar still ate their meals with him, but the amount of chatter that they had all shared before was cut down rather quickly. Zach didn't bother coming around much of the time. He was always off wandering aimlessly around their camp as they settled down for the night, not doing much of anything. His eyes were always dulled at this point, and he barely ate a bite of food. The death of his twin brother had offset him quite a bit.
Traveling filled most of their time, and occasionally they would send scouts out in large groups to go hunt for small game and animals that they could easily take down. Ulysses was merely being paranoid, everyone knew that, but he had a right to be. Seven scouts turned up dead after a second scouting session was sent out, and from that point on the large groups started going.
"More gruel," Havnar said mournfully. He'd washed and cleaned his fingernails, cutting them neatly with a knife one evening, and looked rather decent for once. He looked dejectedly down into the bowl. A thin white mush of stuff with some bits of meat had been heated over the fires, with some occasional pinches of herbs and whatever spices they could throw in. Still, it was a relatively bland meal they had every night, but all of the bread had been tainted as well as most of the corn they had gathered before leaving Washington.
"Get used to it Havnar," Troika said grimly as he drained a glass. "This is all that we will be eating unless we meet a new sort of people out here in the wildlands."
"Which is about as likely as me shatting out a double rainbow and gold coins." Havnar made a face and spooned some of the food into his mouth.
Nathanial stirred the food listlessly, eating only a little bit here and there, sipping occasionally at a cup of ale that they had. Watered down to keep the ale supplies up, so there was about as much chance of that happening as them finding more people out here in the wildlands.
Havnar's violent eyes were rheumy and rather lidded from tiredness, the violet irises still sharp and clear however. He still hadn't mentioned how he had known that those wolf things were about to swoop down upon the camp.
"I think you jinxed us Havnar," Troika muttered out of his mouth as he held the bitterglass sword aloft. And for good reason too; the other group of people had swept down upon their camp thinking that they were barbarians.
Ulysses stood at the head of the Amerikan scouts, brandishing his own wickedly sharp tearingglass blade. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your fine company gentlemen?"
One stepped forward, thin and light, dark haired. "My name is Edward," he called out. "And we owe this pleasure to the gods. May I ask your name?"
"Ulysses of Amerika."
"We are of England, a fine people to the south. You?"
"Well we are- oh ho ho good sir, you almost got me there. But let us not brandish weapons at each other. Let us parlay."
"Indeed," said Edward as he sheathed his sword. His golden eyes flashed as he smiled at Ulysses. "Indeed we shall."
hoplitejoe
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yay English people!
Tycho
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Tea and scones for all.
