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The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Two
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<blockquote data-quote="97mg" data-source="post: 7352794" data-attributes="member: 6799460"><p><strong>Gerralos & Annit with all</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Carthum and Jeovanna: </strong>You watch with curiosity, some well-founded anxiety perhaps, as your colleague's contracts are marked. The immediate physical results come as quite a surprise to everyone. In their very hands the parchments all share a similar fate, beginning to slowly crinkle and curl before falling through the cracks betwixt their fingers as the pages turn to dust, blown south to the seas by a hot prevailing wind. </p><p></p><p>No souls or lives have been taken or signed away this morn, however there are repercussions for those that have agreed to the terms, that for now you remain oblivious to.</p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>Metea:</strong> You are overcome by an alertness and something of an awakening within, as the familiar sounds of your patron’s whispering lips commence an unexpected discourse with your mind. </p><p></p><p>“This is good my friend, my one, the narrow space between our world’s splits further. No wall falls without first the tracing of a deep dark line. I reach to touch you from below, knowing you feel me stronger now. Here, let me offer you a breath through the stones and miles between us.”</p><p></p><p>Then the voice is gone as swiftly as it came. Your patron has bestowed a gift upon you, of that you are certain. But this is a secret that will take time to truly know, left now to grow and manifest itself at some later time... of the patron’s choosing.</p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>Otiroth:</strong> In the few moments it takes the page to wither and become one with the wind, you are gripped by a warm embrace. Heat brushes your skin as the world before you blurs. Below you, with great clawed wings beating, you look down upon the Isle’s rugged shoreline as you trace it from above. You sense pockets of power like stars below you, twinkling like a dragon’s lair where treasures lurk in the dark, illuminated only by the soaring light of your breath. </p><p></p><p>The vision fades as you turn inland to fly above the volcanic ranges of Alath between the Isle's peaks and the barren northern waste. Bursts of flame arise from the mountain’s tops as you pass and lava spills searing and unstoppable, as it leaks northwards and steams upon the sands.</p><p></p><p>Returning to reality, you feel more deeply the presence of your mysterious ancestry, pumping through your blood like trails of molten earth. Alath. You know now that somehow, someday, you will find answers there.</p><p></p><p> </p><p><strong>Dain:</strong> The parchment leaves your hands as you lift the quill from the page, joining with those others marked, now one with the air and traveling as the hot breeze demands. An eerie silence surrounds you, standing with your sword at one with the dirt. For a moment all is still, quiet and filled with peace, until once again you hear the whisk of wind against your ears and the presence of those around you. </p><p></p><p>Looking to the pommel of your sword you know that some kind of significant change has just occurred, but for now the effects or cause of this are nothing but a mystery and a scratching in the back of your mind.</p><p></p><p><<strong>Dain:</strong> Should / when you extract the sword from the ground, please pause for me to quickly describe something for you.></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="97mg, post: 7352794, member: 6799460"] [b]Gerralos & Annit with all[/b] [B]Carthum and Jeovanna: [/B]You watch with curiosity, some well-founded anxiety perhaps, as your colleague's contracts are marked. The immediate physical results come as quite a surprise to everyone. In their very hands the parchments all share a similar fate, beginning to slowly crinkle and curl before falling through the cracks betwixt their fingers as the pages turn to dust, blown south to the seas by a hot prevailing wind. No souls or lives have been taken or signed away this morn, however there are repercussions for those that have agreed to the terms, that for now you remain oblivious to. [B]Metea:[/B] You are overcome by an alertness and something of an awakening within, as the familiar sounds of your patron’s whispering lips commence an unexpected discourse with your mind. “This is good my friend, my one, the narrow space between our world’s splits further. No wall falls without first the tracing of a deep dark line. I reach to touch you from below, knowing you feel me stronger now. Here, let me offer you a breath through the stones and miles between us.” Then the voice is gone as swiftly as it came. Your patron has bestowed a gift upon you, of that you are certain. But this is a secret that will take time to truly know, left now to grow and manifest itself at some later time... of the patron’s choosing. [B]Otiroth:[/B] In the few moments it takes the page to wither and become one with the wind, you are gripped by a warm embrace. Heat brushes your skin as the world before you blurs. Below you, with great clawed wings beating, you look down upon the Isle’s rugged shoreline as you trace it from above. You sense pockets of power like stars below you, twinkling like a dragon’s lair where treasures lurk in the dark, illuminated only by the soaring light of your breath. The vision fades as you turn inland to fly above the volcanic ranges of Alath between the Isle's peaks and the barren northern waste. Bursts of flame arise from the mountain’s tops as you pass and lava spills searing and unstoppable, as it leaks northwards and steams upon the sands. Returning to reality, you feel more deeply the presence of your mysterious ancestry, pumping through your blood like trails of molten earth. Alath. You know now that somehow, someday, you will find answers there. [B]Dain:[/B] The parchment leaves your hands as you lift the quill from the page, joining with those others marked, now one with the air and traveling as the hot breeze demands. An eerie silence surrounds you, standing with your sword at one with the dirt. For a moment all is still, quiet and filled with peace, until once again you hear the whisk of wind against your ears and the presence of those around you. Looking to the pommel of your sword you know that some kind of significant change has just occurred, but for now the effects or cause of this are nothing but a mystery and a scratching in the back of your mind. <[B]Dain:[/B] Should / when you extract the sword from the ground, please pause for me to quickly describe something for you.> [/QUOTE]
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