The August Inn

    • Land of Legends

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      Strolling through the forest, Mordecai twirled his long-handled sword casually by his side, watching the blade glitter and shimmering in the shifting light of the sheltered woods. How he longed for something to do, anything, any event that would give him a chance to enjoy himself. But it seemed the Trickster God had abandoned him momentarily forgotten him.Heaving a great sigh, he almost walked straight into an opening that looked to have had a battle of some considerable power recently. Suddenly alert, he looked through at the scene that lay before him, drawing a mental shroud over him blocking him from magical perception. Better safe than sorry, he thought to himself. It appeared the main foe, and most likely instigator, of the battle had fled the scene and the remaining, acquaintances, would most likely pursue him shortly. It appeared he had judged his God too soon. He would apologise later, right now though, he had a balance to upset.
      “Am I friend or foe?” he mused too quietly to be heard, taking out a small gold token from his pocket, “everything can be decided on the flip of a coin. Especially this coin.”
      He smirked as he flicked the coin up into the air, watching as it spun in the air, reaching its peak, and falling back into his waiting hand that lightly placed the coin on the back of his other hand. Looking down at the token, he smiled at the result. What had moments earlier been a normal coin, now bore an image of him accompanying the group in front of him, and he knew the opposite side would bare an image of him attacking the same group, or some similar image. Not a coin at all, a token of the Trickster God, Iocus’ favoured; a Trickster’s Token as it was called by the favoured. So for now he’d be their friend and companion, but later, who knew? That was for fate to decide. Would he betray them or wouldn’t he? But at the end of it all, he’d take a step back and laugh at his handiwork.
      Replacing the coin, he felt his features change subtly, an easy grin replacing his smirk, his demeanour became more friendly and open, and a faint blue aura surrounded his blade. His façade complete, he walked into the opening.
      “What happened here?” he called, concern filling his voice as he moved further into the opening, “a fight mayhap? Is anyone seriously wounded?”
      If all went well, they’d feel he wasn’t a threat, or at least not one greater than the foe that had just left. If things didn’t go well, then he supposed he’d have to fight and flee if they attacked him. But all things considered, he should be all right. He had no hostile intentions, for the moment, and simply meant well.
    • Aegeus still lay unconscious as guy approached. Ignisferre reached out, "Help him, friend. He is badly wounded and his power is gone."
      The sword knew he couldn't completely trust the stranger, but had to make risks if he was to help his master. "Stay down, hero. We will soon return you to health," Ignisferre whispered to Aegeus. Many did not understand what the sword was capable of. He served as another part of Aegeus' soul, and was a child of Lucis, an embodiment of the God himself. He communicated telepathically, and was almost never separated from his master. Ignisferre translated to "Bringer of flame", hence Aegeus' title of Flamebringer. The sword noticed an ent reaching for herbs that might help Aegeus' to health, and reached out once more with a warm tone, one all creatures of the world could understand, one of thankfulness.

      (The tone is kind of like a "feeling" that's being transmitted telepathically. Oh well. Aegeus needs help guys, he's near dead. xD He can't do anything by himself now. That'd be nice. <.< And if we could meet eachother and make a group, also.
    • When Arif opened his eyes, he saw a familiar and dreaded scene. He was standing in a room made entirely out of darkness itself, with only a blazing green fire in its center. The Cloaked Chamber was the one true fear that remained in the hearts of the servants of Addonexus. As Arif rose, a voice began to fill the room, a voice which had existed since the beginning of time, a voice whose very presence caused all but most virtuous to succumb to the darkest of temptations.

      "Arif Wastewalker, Warrior of Zhuul, do you know why I have summoned you here?" asked the voice malevolently.

      "Yes, Dark One, I do know. I failed to defeat the servant of Lucis and allowed our enemies to triumph." As Arif spoke, the green fire grew, taking the shape of that which Arif described. Suddenly, the fire roared and flared, expanding into the entire room and forming a burning image of the town where the battle had taken place.

      "Indeed you have failed me, Wastewalker. But I will offer you a chance to redeem yourself. Return to the mortal worlds and assemble an army. When my sign appears, lead your army against the town and destroy it entirely. And make sure that this time the paladin does not survive. Also, another being seems to have followed you into the Dread Wastes: a ranger. See if you can't convince her to abandon her hunt in favor of more rewarding prey."

      "Yes, master." The room began to dissappear, fading into the familiar sky of the Dread Wastes as the emerald flames reformed themselves into the image of the ranger who had managed to follow the sorcerer.

      ---

      The grey twilight of the Wastes burned in Arif's eyes as the icy mist, formed from fragment of long-forgotten souls, poured over his charred body, infusing him with energy. However, Arif knew he could not remain in this vulnerable position for long: soon the spectres would arrive, drawn to the passage into the central plane, where the living still ruled the land. Once Arif had regaind enough strength, he rose and looked around him. The town's dread counterpart was almost identicalto the real one, with the exception of the large, unscalable stone cliffs that rose from the surrounding area.

      This is strange. thought the Wastewalker as he observed the cliffs confining him, A great battle must have taken place here during the War of the Void.

      Arif knew he needed to return to the central plane, but he knew that if he transported he would lose a great deal of energy, and that he would be instantly confronted by the survivors, some of whom posed an actual threat.

      As Arif examined the town, he felt a presence unlike most in the Dread Wastes: a living being. The ranger had managed to follow him to this world.
    • Guy checked Aegeus out closely, ignoring the floating sword, and emptied a vial of health potion in his unconscious mouth and turned around, seeing an ent holding a small bouquet of flowers.

      "Oh, Welcome noble forest spirit, eriflu, eh? Wonderful! My friend here is badly injured and the potion will just get him to stay alive longer."

      The Ent creaked a bit and handed the flowers to the strange man who's magical trace seemed more like a dragon than a human. Guy started slipping bits of the healing plants in the injuries and accelerated the healing with a weak barely-effective healing spell made more potent with the herbs. He then got Aegeus's shoulder back together with a pop, groaning since he knew that if he was conscious he'd probably be screaming, and then he stepped back.

      "Forest spirit, let's guard him until he wakes up, shouldn't be too long, but he'll be quite sore. We'll need his help to restore nature's beauty and to keep this land safe."
    • Leaning against the dead tree Aira recovered her breath as she tried to comprehend the world around her. It was as if she had been thrown into a cruel counter part to the world she had come from. Except what once was alive was dead, and what was once dead was...still dead. When she adjusted her booted feet she only felt a mild resistance as they crushed a fallen twig to dust. Was this the abyss that the tales had spoken off? that priests said sinners were condemned to? The voice didn't answer.

      Taking a step forward Aira reached down and grabbed her duffel bag before slinging it around her shoulders. Huddling into her heavy rangers clothing did nothing against the biting cold winds. Carefully she even removed her chain-mail gloves and placed them in her voluminous pockets. For they felt like blocks of ice encasing her hands. Then with a quick adjustment to her bow she set off for the village, following the strange sense in her head that pointed to where Arif Wastewalker stalked the lands.




      (Sorry its very short, just wanted to get something out before bed here. Sofisti feel free to do some controlling if you like. )