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 One Way Or Another, for day
Illex Sulahn
 Posted: Jan 5 2018, 12:54 AM
Quote
Illex Sulahn
28 YEARS OLD
He/Him
Warrior
6
POSTS
Elf
SHIPPER
REQUEST
APPLICATION
DEVELOPMENT
Berserker
Cultist
Isilzheha
He/Him/Monster - EST


21 Solace, 9:40

The garden was dwindling, a greed placed within each action to pluck the precious stone contained within its cage of ice and death that took faster than it could grow. Insistence had been ushered to the Keeper to still those forever unsatisfied hands as those they belonged to clamored for more. That is how it always was, desperate pleas for more even if it did not display itself outwardly and Illex was determined to let the growths flourish where others did not. The warrior was content to sit along the edges, adorned ears twitching gently at the low hum as the song wrapped its caressing fingers around his mind. It washes everything away, not a trouble to be felt should there ever be any to plague an already plagued mind. The comforting call was quiet, however, dulled beneath the weight of absence and it is this reason that Illex found himself trailing away from the Tirashan. Reassuring weight fell across his back, the harness holding in place the tools of which he would use sparingly for the task at hand for he intended to make quick work of the information he had been provided.

It was easy for his clan to keep their ears to the ground, plucking at their ties to the world outside of the forests where they resided in order to keep a relatively steady supply of the corrupted lyrium. It was no surprise that the garden would wane, as it often would be mined for whatever the clan desired, but this time was different. Some had taken just a little too much, and Illex would leave it to the Keeper to find those that indulged beyond what was necessary. Punishment would be enacted, and it was a small disappointment that the warrior would not be present to have a hand in dealing such reprimand. Sights were set on the trails laid out before him, carefully taken to avoid leaving one of his own as he weaved through the trees and crossed over the plains towards the expansive highway where many utilized it under the false safety it supposedly supplied the outsiders. Long, black hair had been braided back, brushing gently across the skin of his back not covered by the weapons he ached to use as he moved swiftly. A mount would have been simpler, cut the time in half, but he did not care to have another living creature to look after. Determination was set, and several days passed before he arrived at the edge of the crumbling stone.

Archways towered high, the walls difficult to scale and so Illex kept parallel to it, pointed ears shifting as his head turned to hear any telltale sounds of what he was looking for. Red lyrium had been noted as passing by the highway, though the elf did not mistake the majority of the Templars to be fool enough to use the paved roads so openly. Several steps were taken before a shout was heard behind him, up upon the highway and Illex lowered his body to duck behind a grouping of fallen debris. Hooves clattered against the stone, Illex relying on hearing more than sight as the riders began to pass. Wheels churned, snorts heard from the beasts of burden as something large was carted along. When it sounded directly behind him the elf twisted to peer over the crumbled stone only to see a dark caravan wobbling almost precariously before the driver corrected the horses. Pale gaze shifted down the way to where another could be seen as a blotch of color slowly, ever so slowly, growing in size with its approach. Lips twitched, muscles flexing as a palm slid over the rough edge of the broken masonry. The points of metal claws scraped delicately against the surface with the motion, the elf pining for an opening to set against what appeared to be humans.

No signs could be seen of any infection, nor could he hear the beautiful hum from within the caravan. Just as he was about to retract his attentions a foreign language was spat into the shuffling noises of the travelers, an arrow flying overhead and planting itself within one of the caravan guards’ skull. Illex’s stomach flipped, eyes widening and a grin splitting his lips as his head whipped around to find the source of the well-aimed arrow. The archer perched on a rock, a glance sent in the direction of the elf when he moved just enough to see over the edge and even from this distance the warrior could see the confusion. Another joined him, oddly shaped clothing wrapped about their figures and it took a moment for recognition to spark. Venatori. Excitement flooded through him then, and he pushed away from the rock as the bow was leveled towards him. The wood splintered upon impact, arrowhead clattering to the dirt and Illex reached behind him to free one of the stunted spears. An arm drew back, and returning to his previous spot he threw it with precision, delighting in the startled cry as the human was stricken in the chest. Such a satisfying thud, the elf already moving to retrieve the spear when another charged towards him with a sword swinging in a vigorous swipe.

Freeing the spear Illex dipped low, one leg extended to brace himself and the sword missed his head by mere inches. He could feel the breeze in its wake, hear the singing of the metal as it hissed through the air, and with a forceful thrust upwards the spear was embedded into his skull beneath his chin. Rising with the strike it drove the Venatori back, blood falling freely in a pleasurable wave of warmth down his hands and arms. A shudder pulled down his spine, sharpened teeth flashing as he yanked the weapon free in a spray of blood. A low groan erupted from his throat, eyes alight and his free hand lifted to glide across his chest and smear the liquid across his skin. He could feel the upraised flesh of his scars, eyes fluttering but he pulled himself away when commotion from the road drew his focus. The guards were clashing with other Venatori, not very many of them, and Illex replaced the spear in favor of drawing his glaive.

They did not expect him from either side, most of the shems doing the work for him as blood splattered the ground and pained shouts gurgled into silence. Bodies fell, curses yelled in that atrocious language and Illex pulled himself closer. The curved blade rested against the stone, scraping with his approach and turning the head of one of the caravan guards dressed in black armor. Silver flashed, and the other warrior charged towards him yet hesitation slowed his steps when he fully took in this unknown adversary. ”Please, come closer,” he murmured longingly, near breathless with the anticipation of what was to come. He did not know what the human said, nor did he care. All he cared about was the way his feet moved, the warrior clearly trained but Illex could not find a single shred of fear within himself. Indeed the shem moved closer, the elven warrior knocking the blade aside and allowing his own to slip through his grip until he grabbed it again, closer to the blade, and pushed it forward. Right into the softened core it dug, pushing past whatever useless armor he wore until it caught on bone. Illex yanked the man towards him, the other side of the blade hooked and catching further. The guard dropped his sword and the elf lifted a hand to his face, blood coughed from stained lips as the wounded balked.

Claw tips grazed softly, Illex tilting his head and taking in the way the human’s face contorted in agony before a crushing grip was placed against his face. Fingers curled, and a scream tore from the afflicted one’s throat as the metal dug into flesh and bone, puncturing an eye only to press further until the prey ceased its struggles and fell limp. With little consideration muscles coiled, Illex pulling the glaive free and gaze honing in on the remaining two that dueled on the other side of the caravan. He could hear their labored breaths and struggling, shifting to the corner of the structure as the horses began to panic. For a moment he simply watched, humored by the view of the Venatori and what he could only assume to be a Tevene pushing against one another in a poor attempt to gain leverage. ”So wrong, so graceless, he chided, chin tipping as the Venatori gained the upper hand and with a guttural cry the guard fell beneath his blade. The stench of blood was pungent, a split tongue prodding at some that had dotted against his cheek.

Nostrils flared, and the Venatori lunged towards him. Space was limited, and so the elf used the long handle of the glaive to swipe the bloodstained sword and trap it against the side of the caravan. It lurched with the impact, clawed hand lifting quickly before the man could recover and counter the shove set against his throat. This one did not scream, voice seized with his very hand and Illex moved closer as the pinned hand began to tremble and the sword fell away with a resounding clang of metal against stone. Illex stood taller than the shem, crafted claws still dug into his throat even as his wrist rotated and fingers began to spread. Taking in a deep breath the elf removed his hand, satisfaction wrapping around him as he slid none too carefully until he leaned against the wheel clutching at the gaping wound in his throat. Air was expelled slowly, Illex planting his glaive against the stone after pulling it away. A side compartment began to fall open, and with a jolt of trepidation the elf scrambled to keep it closed lest the contents inside spill out.

How close it had come to doing just that until Illex secured the latch and placed a hand over his chest as if to still a rapidly beating heart. Gray eyes fell to the motionless Venatori, a small laugh given. ”This is not mine, not yet,” he explained to nobody in particular, a shake of his head accompanying the steps that brought the elf closer to the deceased. ”It would not do to break it.” Careful consideration was placed upon the lifeless corpse, Illex kneeling down beside him as his gaze narrowed. The braid fell across his shoulder as he turned his head to eye the wound that trickled with excess blood even if the heart had ceased its beating. Bloodied claws pulled at the mangled flesh, a grimace taking hold of the elf’s angled features. ”That does not look good,” he commented gravely, yet despite the concerned tone no regret could be found within his mind. Eyebrows lifted and Illex shrugged, standing with a quickened motion so that he could reach and find purchase against the metal holding the wood together and hoist himself up. A foot planted against the Venatori, giving him a boost to his desired perch. He heard the wet plop as the man fell over but Illex paid it no mind.

Sitting upon the top of the wagon as the horses shuffled nervously behind him the elf glanced down the highway to where the other vessel began to make itself know. A rider on a large, ebony horse surged forward ahead of the other, donned in black robes and with his approach Illex let out a disgruntled sigh. Not a single trace of red lyrium upon his body, the carnage around him all but forgotten as he laid his weapon down beside him and leaned forward against his crossed knees. ”You are not who I was hoping to see, you know,” he called down irritably as the horse and rider stopped a few feet away, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Just another human, by the looks of it. A small hope had been placed in seeing the Venatori, for the elf had assumed that the Templars would have come in the place of the shems that seemed to surround him. How revolting.

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Vadior Aerilus
 Posted: Yesterday at 02:28 pm
Quote
Vadior Aerilus
45 YEARS OLD
He/Him
Mage
6
POSTS
Human
SHIPPER
REQUEST
APPLICATION
DEVELOPMENT
Blood Mage
Magister
Day
She/Her - EST


Vadior had not traveled far from his home in months, but when he did, it was as an envoy of the magisterium, for he was no longer an arm of their militia. Still, a train of Tevinter soldiers accompanied him, if only to convey that he was a traveler of importance and not some dirty vagrant, their armor more intricately fashionable, yet still functional should the need arise. He himself was dressed in fine silk, all the vogue in Minrathous, but he had maintained some travel sense and wore plain leather and cloth underneath the draping cloak of a robe. Underneath him strode the grand-son of Hiron, just as sure of foot, his head-tossing and testing of reins reminding Vadior of his time as mage-general fourteen years back now.

The sounds of fighting reached them before the sights of it did. One soldier, sent forth to scout ahead, came riding back to report a Venatori caravan beset by “something”. I did not see, he explained, but there is only one left standing. Should we go round? Bypassing the whole production would have been the safest and most advisable option; Vadior hadn’t intended to get into scuffles with highwaymen, Dalish raiders or, least of all, the troublesome Venatori. Yet he might find something in its ruin. The cult was no friend of his, and it was always informative to find their dead or abandoned operations, and it seemed that this time, they had been taken care of before he had even got there. A stroke of luck. “You say there is only one?” At the soldier’s confirmation, he said, “I expect they’ll give us no trouble.”

His horse had grown impatient, stomping a hoof and chomping at the bit. It was a few moments later that Vadior and his train meandered onto the scene. His eyes scanned it. A venatori caravan indeed, its cart standing to the side, still intact. Its drivers and its guards were a bloody mess, one whose face had seemed to collapse into itself. There was one standing in the middle of it, and here Vadior expected a surviving venatori, or perhaps even a bandit of some sort, but here was a rather tall and unusual looking elf.

“What manner of savage are you?”

He supposed he wasn’t who he was hoping to see: Vadior didn’t remember making an appointment with a wild elf in the middle of the imperial highway. This was not what he was hoping either. There didn’t seem to be any other elves surrounding him, and neither did he see any corpses but the venatori. Going round had certainly been the better idea. Perhaps they were waiting in the trees. The soldiers behind him were unsettled, unsheathing their weapons or pulling arrows from their quivers.

“Step aside, elf.” Whatever he was, he surely had no idea what sort of people he’d massacred. He couldn’t imagine that a Dalish elf — if that was his origin (Vadior recognized the markings on his face, but had only no knowledge of their individual patterns) — had any personal investment in the goings-on of the venatori. Not like a magister would, anyway. “You’ve cleared the road, and for that, we may let you go unharmed.”

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Illex Sulahn
 Posted: Yesterday at 06:00 pm
Quote
Illex Sulahn
28 YEARS OLD
He/Him
Warrior
6
POSTS
Elf
SHIPPER
REQUEST
APPLICATION
DEVELOPMENT
Berserker
Cultist
Isilzheha
He/Him/Monster - EST


The stench of blood was thick in the air, heating sun overhead casting a relentless wave of warmth upon the pale figure that reclined on the top of the elaborate cart with legs stretched out before him. Those in the distance were covering ground quickly, yet with them the pleasant and alluring call did not follow. Pointed ears struggled to hear it, ever hopeful that it would alight upon his senses and give Illex what he desired to find with this venturing along the highway. Rotten death sat like a cloak around his shoulders, the cloth strung about his hips splayed out over his crossed legs, a decision made to simply wait for the arrival of the others. The ground was covered quickly, and the one at the forefront brought his steed to heel as piercing blue eyes lifted to find the elf where he sat perched. Leather banded around his frame, fine cloth draped over it that fell down the sides of the horse that worried the ground where it was made to stop. Hooves smacked against the stone, mouth working at the bit, and the human looked rather caught off guard by the sight that laid before him. Nostrils flared, Illex lifting his chin as if he could test the man’s scent over the thickness of the blood. Disappointment found him, one that he voiced without hesitation, body sagging with it as those that came to a halt before him were all but useless.

His thoughts raced, Illex wondering if perhaps they might be of use still and his body tilted forward until hands flattened against the caravan. His legs remained curled, torso stretching to bring him almost flush against the wood beneath him. Tendrils of scarlet coiled away from his face, a comforting embrace as the precious mineral let out a faint, barely noticeable chime as it rested so cleanly in his flesh. ”A savage?” he asked with contemplation, claws sliding over the wood slowly until his scarred front pressed against the surface. ”You do not even know me. Not enough to call me a savage. You shems are the savage ones.” He smiled pleasantly, the blood dried from the sun flaking as Illex adjusted his weight and cradled his head in one of his hands. He wondered what the man would look like with his skin turned inside out. The insults would surely stop, and Illex imagined he would look much better that way. Most of the vile humans did, as he had found over the years, though this one could be used in other ways. Dark hair fell over his shoulders, the complacent expression shifting into one that looked offended at the demand he move aside. Like some commoner that had been tasked with clearing a pathway for those of more importance. Brows pulled together, and Illex lifted his head away from his hand as the arm fell and a clawed hand hung over empty air.

”You… may let me go unharmed?” he asked incredulously, eyes widening ever so slightly. His head tilted to the side, lips pursing as he considered the human with all the interest he might place upon an insect. ”My, aren’t you generous!” A mocking tone, ushered forth on an expulsion of breath as his lips curled back in a devilish smile. Sharpened teeth flashed, metal claws clicking against the edge of the caravan as he pulled himself closer to the edge with a fluid motion. Muscles flexed as his weight was urged forward, long legs sliding over the roof of the construction forcefully abandoned by the corpses that laid around it. His legs flung over the side, heels bouncing against the wood and cloth and shoulders bunched as he braced his palms on either side of his body. His chin tilted down, devious look leveled with the one who appeared to be the leader. Soldiers were on edge around him, flanking him with the sound of their weapons being drawn causing decorated ears to twitch. No fear could find him, however, and his interest had been placed on one single man. ”I am looking for the Templars, covered in red,” Illex hummed, reaching out slowly to grab the handle of his glaive, ”the ones with that sweet, haunting song. You are not them, but perhaps you can help me find them.”

The bloodied weapon now in his hand he slid from the caravan, weight landing with ease and barely a second was given before he stalked forward. The creature the shem sat upon shuffled, though did not frighten with his approach like those still attached to the caravan. Illex came to stand before the horse, fingers curled around his weapon as he planted it against the ground. He did not notice the way the soldiers tensed, the sound of bowstrings straining going unheeded as the warrior sank into his own world. This one consisted merely of he and this supposed leader, whoever he was supposed to be, and an innocent look was given him. Free hand found the underside of the horse’s chin, the beast attempting to pull its head away but the elf held fast. ”If you do not...” he said, voice drawn out as a brow lifted and his attention turned to the shem once more. There was pause in his words as feet changed course and brought him around the side of the horse. Palm traced over the neck of the animal, claw tips scraping gently until that hand found the rider’s leg. Against the shin it was set, sliding upwards over the knee to rest upon the thigh. ”Well, bad things will happen if you do not help. Of that you have my sincerest promise.”

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