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Plains of Sorrow (Wolfgang Vs Dispeyr)

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 7/30/2003 10:20:28 PM |

A gentle breeze wafted along, sifting through the lengths of tall yellow-green grass, grass that stretched for as far as the eye could see; an ocean of yellow-green strewn for miles upon miles, snaking and slashing its way over the earth toward the horizon and beyond. The only break in this sea of listless grasses that swayed in the breeze was the Anjazii Mountains to the North, a swath of purple-brown rock outlined by the blue of the heavens above; mountains the slashed with tall peaks into the high afternoon sky. The yellow-green grass waved hither and yon in tune to the light summer breeze within this Southern Hemisphere of an unknown planet. Quietly marauding wisps of white fluff, seedlings of the strange grasses, caressed the air currents, dancing along into the dips and whorls, swirling around as the wind wove in haphazard patterns, to be carried off far away to take root. The wind, though gentle in its caress of the land, slowly and surely began its advancement in velocity, becoming quarrelsome with its surroundings. A deep slash appeared the in once pristine nature of the plains, a cut of jet opening. The winds picked up, flying madly, pulling at the yellow-green grass with ferocious anger. In the darkness there was nothing but blinding light, and with faltering steps that echoed uneasily, lazily in silence, the world twisted and churned, only to explode outward in a violent spasm to fall in upon itself from its own gravity. A black crescent interposed itself on the plain at length in the quarrelsome heat of the afternoon sun, a curve that absorbed and drew in the brightness of day. The foray of jet imploded in on itself, leaving a single figure to stand in its absence. Swathed in an overlarge cloak, a plain thing the color of deep blue, a creature stood. The figure was roughly seven feet tall in height, with no discernable features being present on the whole of his being. The cloak shrouded every detail, with a hood that obscured the face. The reams and folds of the deep blue fabric itself hid any observable outcroppings on the creature’s form. The hood titled, shifting ever so slightly. Beneath the encompassing black of the hood, with only two objects discernable, was a pair of ice-blue eyes that stood out in the dark recesses of the hood. The gaze slowly took in the surroundings, glancing back and forth in silent observation of the area. The wind subsided back into its joyful breeze, no longer full of the anger it held a moment before. It whistled with grand mirth, rustling the folds of the fabric that made up the heavy deep blue hued cloak. The sky above as a light blue tinted with the undercurrents of a light green. The two colors swirled and flew into one another above to create a gorgeous sight to behold in the afternoon sun, a sun that was hued red in the heavens above. The star this planet orbited was a small red dwarf that burned with unerring light. The wind began to pick up, rustling the grass in its invisible grip, giving off the sweet smelling scents of the grass and pollen in the air itself.

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 7/30/2003 10:20:53 PM | Message Detail

Sniffing the air, the creature began a slow circle, turning its hooded head to gaze out through the area, to search out what it was here waiting for. The scent of blood was on the air, flying in to replace the once sweet and serene feeling. The plains no longer felt carefree. The air began to circulate in a morbid manner, whispering into the ears of the creature great pain and suffering as it passed by, causing the edges of the heavy cloak to shift as that of the yellow-green grasses did in its grasp. The wind began to moan and cry tirelessly, screaming out now, flowing in and around. The air began to become fermented with the sorrowful feeling. It was as though the wind itself were crying out at the horrors it had seen committed here, at the horrors that would be committed still. These were the plains of death, the plains of destruction, the plains of pain, the Plains of Sorrow. That sorrow permeated the air, was palpable in the breeze that wafted along, moaning like a whore. The figure glanced about two sets of ice blue staring out from behind the hood. Something was odd about the area, something not quite as it should be. Breathing in deeply and holding it, the cloaked figure continued to look with unseeing eyes, with its second sight, for that which hid…

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/1/2003 9:17:48 PM | Message Detail

The sun hung anemic in the sky, a dot of white barely visible through the layers of streamered clouds. The whole of the skyscape looked as an old television tuned to dead air, the afterimage of countless turnings-off branded indelibly upon the screen as that perfect circle of watery, wan light. Despite the intertwining dance of the shifting vapors above, nothing stirred the stagnant air below, hanging in a washed-out pall, the breath of millenia exhaled and forgotten. Not a flicker of a zephyr brushed the colorless grass, standing limp and wilted in endless formation, drooping down towards earth the hue of clay in slow, inevitable surrender to the crushing force of gravity. Greyness was everywhere, broken only by itself, the landscape painted in primer by gods who cared not enough to finish their art. Even the silence seemed emptier in this place, as though even the memories of the whispers of shadows had never disturbed it. Time itself seemed a stranger to the ashen plain, though it was not alone. The figure laid amidst the phantoms of the grasses, a freckle of darkness blemishing the landscape. It moved no more than the air, pale limbs shrouded in pure black cloth lying still alongside the body, palms upwards, bare feet tilted out to the sides. One could almost mistake the hair piled beneath the head to be a mass of shadows, though no mere shade could match such inky darkness. The man's eyes stared skywards, focused yet not, their gaze locked on some unseen thing beyond the depths of the clouds, his jaw slack, the thin, colorless lips slightly parted. Even the figure's chest was still, no breaths passing between those porcelain lips. There was no dust in this place to mark how long he might have lain there, and no care to address the question behind those eyes; all there was was the silence, the stillness, the nothing. All there should be was the nothing. With the passing of an instant, the quietude gave way. The figure's gaze sharpened, his eyes blinked. All seemed as it had been a moment past, a grey sea of smoke and shadow, and yet something had changed. Expressionless, the man eeled up smoothly from the ground, rising into a crouch as though hinged at the heels. Straightening to his full height, the wraith furrowed his brow slightly, sifting through all his senses could provide as the emptiness within parted like spider's webbing, curling in upon itself and vanishing. The stillness remained, unbroken, as perfect as it always was in the places beyond the touch of life, but in these places, the physical held nearly no sway. The shadows had deepened, the overcast above had lowered, drawn slowly into a spiral overhead. There was no sound, though the land itself reverberated like a shriek, a cry rich with long-forgotten fury and swollen with his namesake...the very essence of despair, distilled and pure. Whatever the cause, there would be no more rest here; the solitude was gone. Whatever - or whoever - had intruded had seen to that, whether they meant to or no.

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/1/2003 9:18:07 PM | Message Detail

A flash of un-light, blinding black through the grey, and the visitor was revealed, hazy, wavery, an outline glimpsed through the veil parting this land from life. The spectre's stare gave it flat, cold welcome. He had never known one of the living to come to these plains, to set foot amidst a land they had given unto the grasp of damnation. Always it was quiet here, always it was still, even the dead shunning the site of pain, and until this moment, that had made it the perfect refuge between battles, between killings and vengeance. Despair watched as the cloaked figure began to pace, visible almost without effort here, where the tides of anguish unchecked had worn thin the shroud. It seemed to be searching for something, a deliberateness to its movements hinting of purpose, and confidence. A warrior, no doubt, to have roused the land so; even in the absence of the slain, the battlefield remembers. Perhaps it sought its own peace, or perhaps a memento of the fallen was more its fancy. The wraith was prepared to serve as either. A single whisper passed his lips, a wordless soughing beneath even his own hearing, and a third entity joined the field. Despair's pale marble fingers curled around its hilt, the wire biting gently into his palm as the weight of the blade manifested in his hand. The Soultaker was quiet, coils of shadow oozing stealthily along its duble-edged blade, one reaching up to caress the hand which bore it. The revenant spared it a brief glance before lifting his eyes to the invader once more, the object of their gaze reflected from their surfaces oddly, as if facing itself; the image to the left limned in steel, that on the right sheened against obsidian, both moving only in concert with the one who cast them. --- Radio Shack - You've Got Questions, We've Got Blank Stares!

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/1/2003 11:41:35 PM | Message Detail

The figure dressed in cloak of deep blue was restless. It’s ice blue eyes scanned the area from within the confines of the deep hood, clear horizontal lids sliding over the eye, while a more normal set slid downward as the figure blinked. The world was awash in vibrant colors one moment, splayed with a darker hue of black and gray tones the next. The gift of second sight that was the Albeado’s gift, a gift that proved useful at times yet a bane at others. The seven-foot tall figured moved with deliberate movements, leaving behind no trace of passage despite its life. The ice blue eyes roamed endlessly, seeing the world from two views, seeing the movements of black-gray chaos, the stillness of the colors. Two worlds combined by metaphysical threads, inevitably tied together by the bringing forth of life and the passing of it. Shears to cut the threats, to take the life were always on hand as the figure moved, conscious now of something dark, sinister. The world spun for a moment as the eyes within the hood moved about, scrolling along the horizon for signs of the disturbance that the internal physiology of the Albeado could inherently feel. The eyes seized upon this disturbance, this apparition, that now stood, weapon drawn. It was colored black in both worlds. The figure parted its maw, a stench of rotting decay rolling from the lips. The figure straightened on its legs, causing the hood it wore to fall back, no longer acting as a means to hide the features beneath it. The face was that of a wolf-like creature with brown colored fur, a deeper hue of it beneath the crystal blue eyes. The figure let forth a quick bark, a guttural tone that sounded harsh, discordant. The wind picked up, passing the sound through its invisible grip, causing the sound to dance as it faded into the endless reverberations and eddies of the moving air current. The wolf-like creature shrugged its shoulders in a smooth, exaggerated movement, causing the massive cloak to fall back forming a cape attached to a set of midnight blue-black shoulder guards. The wolf-like creature stood fully erect, eyes staring intently upon this shadow creature no more than fifty feet away. The figure was adorned in a set of black armor with midnight blue accentuation’s shaped from strange ways for strange purposes of strange materials. It encapsulated the wolf-like being, a large breastplate set upon its chest, gauntlets enshrouding its entire forearms, formed of the same blue-black matter. Thighs and shins were also encased. The armor itself was light despite its apparent cumbersome nature. Weapons adorned various places of the armor. Two identical swords were placed on the shins, one per each. Along the back of the waist was a great sword of massive side, and along its back was a longsword. On the creatures back, hidden beneath its cape was a shield. The wolf-like beings senses tingled with static energy, musculature bunching together as the creature readied itself to move. Reaching with a furred and clawed hand, the wolf-like being grasped the hilt of the great sword, Gunguire, in its right hand, the weapon strapped across the back of it’s waist. The double-edged black-bladed weapon came from its sheath in a cacophony of sound, the very noise disturbing the air all around, causing waves of energy to reverberate back and forth like that of a ocean tidal motion. Gunguire was adorned with a single large red gem located in the crosspiece of the sword, a gem that burned brightly with unholy light.

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/1/2003 11:42:09 PM | Message Detail

The wolf canted its head to the side, pivoting a pawed foot to the right, widening its stance. Every inch of mass was coiled, ready to move, to strike and lash out. Letting out another quick guttural sound, the wolf-like being began to move forward, the large great sword, Gunguire, in its right hand. It’s maw parted in the approximation of a smile as the creature stalked. With a flick of its wrist, the wolf-like being flipped the great sword upward, the black blade parallel with its forearm where the hilt clicked into place with the gauntlet. Dropping to all fours, the creature began to cant forward, a look of vehemence in its crystal blue eyes. It moved forward all but thirty of the fifty feet between the two creatures before returning to an upright position. It stood stock still, its eyes the only indication of sentience, the slow rise and fall of its chest the only indication that it was alive. The world was stained gray now, and in that moment, the wolf-like being moved forward at a dizzying pace. Its blade coming up in the last second in a strike from low right to upper left, the blade flashing quickly in the still air as the creature attempted a quick kill…

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/2/2003 5:13:20 PM | Message Detail

So, this was most assuredly not a human creature. Despair had doubted that it was, not this far away from the world he had never truly known as home; the revelation of this wolf-man's form had served to dispel any of those doubts which might have lingered. It had, however, served up questions in their place, a wondering as to what manner of being it was that could see through the veil between the worlds. The wraith snorted softly to himself, banishing the thoughts firmly. All the answer he needed was that it apparently could, and why not? Even the animals of Earth had some capacity to sense what lay beyond them, and this thing seemed almost more kin to them than aught else. His thumb idly rubbed along the wires twined about the Soultaker's hilt as he stared unblinking at the beastling, one eye of grey and another of depthless black locking on the pale blue orbs housed above the fanged muzzle before him. They yielded no hint as to whether the spectre faced more a man, or a creature of the wild. It barked a challenge, the wolf, letting its cloak fall away in a wind Despair could not feel to reveal the trappings of man. Steel sheathed the creature, a blade that had no need of drawing to prove a danger. The wraith flexed slightly, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet, poising with feline grace as the being produced a massive sword, nearly as black as the shadow-wreathed weapon he now angled before him at the ready. The wraith's long black hair spilled freely across his shoulders as he tensed, sleek and taut, awaiting his moment to pounce through the shroud. For a moment, they stood, the panther and the wolf, claw and fang readied, the wind ruffling the fur of one as the darkness embraced the other. A moment only, and then the great wolf lunged forwards. A moment of shock rippled through the wraith as the lupine warrior streaked for him, a moment he let pass as swiftly as it had come. If its senses could reach across the void to the shadowed lands, it was possible the rest of it could as well; a luxury the damned have no claim to. If it was battle the canine thirsted for, it was battle it would receive. A smile creased the spectre's lips as he sprang to meet the creature, his thoughts focusing before him, cold, hard, an ethereal claw of ebon. Once, fury had served this purpose, a senseless, mindless rage at the world that had cast him aside, a futile quest for a vengeance he could never truly take; that was the past. Instead of anger, lust spilled forth from the dead man's mind, an urgent need for battle, for violence, for blood. Reality shrieked in silence as the wraith tore through it, streaking through the veil as easily as he sped across the fields. Here, nothing filtered the sun's light, no barrier stilled the winds, and yet all the angst of the land's spirit remained, keening through the air, rustling within the lush grasses. Once, he had hated the living for all they knew that he did not; now, it was his for the taking, should he ever be bothered with want for it again. The wolf's blade rose, and Despair's swung down to meet it, both the revenant's hands curled about the hilt. Steel met steel with a terrible crash, darkness blossoming as a black rose from the thorns. The sheer force behind the wolf-demon's blow hefted the spectre skywards, the shadow warrior doing nothing to stop it. Despair hurled himself wholly into the blow, throwing himself upwards and over his lupine adversary, twisting in the air to light in a crouch. Almost before his leading foot touched the earth, the wraith spun to the right, the Soultaker leading the way as he twirled in a low slash for where the backs of his foe's legs had been when his leap began. He knew not who or what the beast was, and he cared not; only that it fell prey to the hungers it had awakened. --- Radio Shack - You've Got Questions, We've Got Blank Stares!

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/2/2003 6:29:21 PM | Message Detail

The wind screeched in a shriveled cry at the crash the erupted as the two swords came in contact with one another, the cacophony of noise renting the air, causing a visible tremor to erupt in a wave from the epicenter. The wolf-like being had overemphasized its attack, forcing too much power. As the black creature rocketed skyward in an instant, using the attack to come in for an attack at the rear. Sentience sparked through the creature’s mind, thoughts of plans and movements were created quickly, and just as quickly, discarded. The wolf-like being kept moving forward even after the creature had landed, placing miniscule pieces of distance between itself and the creature. Flicking its wrist, the wolf placed the sword back parallel to its right forearm, a small almost inaudible click resounding as the weapon was ensnared in the sheath that held the blade, the sharp edge advancing back along the arm past the elbow. A small whisper of air signaled the arcing of a blade close to the creature’s heels. The forward momentum had been well sought after, and now with the largest and most imminent of threats gone, the creature turned, going onto all fours and sliding backwards as it faced the black wraith. The wolf titled its head to the side, as though listening to something on the air, like a faint voice that was calling its name. “Amarouk,” the wolf hissed through a clenched jaw as it recited its own name. White canines were bared at the black creature crouched before the wolf-like being, a look not of hatred in its ice blue eyes, but one simply of curiosity. Fur bristling in the wind, the wolf stared icily back at the creature with its crystal blue eyes, marveling at the mismatched coloring of the wraiths. The wolf-like being arched its back as it prepared to lung again, musculature rippling like waves crashing on a shore over the expanse of its body, crystal blue eyes measuring up the blackened creature standing before it. The world shifted from the colorful expanse of reality, the yellow-green blades of the plains swaying in rapt control by the wind, whereas the black and gray expanse of the spiritual, the grass was still, where no breeze swept across the surface. Membranous lids slid horizontally over the eyes of the creature as it stared in question at the wraith before it. The wolf moved to the right on all fours, sidestepping and circling, its eyes always on the wraith before it. Stalking while looking for an opening to present itself, the ice blue eyes blazed. Musculature bunched almost invisibly as the body tensed for movement, becoming like a coiled spring. Its mind was searching for answers as its body readied for motion. Seconds began to tick away, the wolf waiting for a movement, a weakness at which to strike.

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/3/2003 5:51:22 PM | Message Detail

No resistance met his blow save that of the breeze it split in twain for an instant, swirling back together and continuing on as unscathed as the beast Despair faced. It was crouched low on all fours again, like some creature spewn forth from the bowels of pre-history, an armor-scaled direwolf made ready to end its prey. The wraith let his right arm slowly sink back down to his side, rising from his crouch as the tip of his blade descended. His raven hair lung limp, fanning about his shoulders, untouched by the winds that ruffled the coat of the being he faced. That wind bore with it no trace of malice from the monster, and the gleam of its chill eyes betrayed not the presence of anger, nor fear; it was almost as though the wolf-man had not instigated the battle. Through the snarl the split its muzzle, the beast growled something, a low rumble that sounded like nothing so much as an introduction of sorts. Amarouk, was it? It had a name, then, and a mind that knew it...and most probably a soul behind those damnably calm eyes. Small tendrils of darkness lashed upwards from the Soultaker, twining about the wraith's fingers, his hand, his wrist, seeming as if digging into the flesh. They slipped beneath the alabaster surface of his skin, their welcome chill pulsing through what veins he may have had, thrumming as the beat of a living heart throughout his body. Perhaps it is only proper that we introduce ourselves as well... The whisper in his mind echoed itself softly from his lips, his mouth moving seemingly of its own accord. Despair had never known a true name, one recorded nowhere in the dusty depths of memory seldom plumbed, though one rose from nowhere, rippling through the cold stillness of his mind. "Nergal," he spoke, his voice the silken rasp of shroud against gravestone. It was not a name he knew, and yet a feeling of cool certainty swelled through him at its utterance, tinging his lips with a smirk. The wolf circled to its right, staying low, moving so like the pack predators the wraith had faced so long ago, when breath had filled his lungs. He let his left foot slip back, swivelling on the balls of his feet, turning a slow pirouette as his foe stalked 'round, keeping his eyes locked on the other's azure stare, the dark length of the Soultaker dangling loosely by his side. The shadow that writhed along the edges of the weapon swelled and shrank in time with the icy pulse within him, the dark coils still locked about his grasp, filling him with a sense of fulfillment, repleteness. It had been some time since Despair...no, Nergal, now...had fought, long enough to have nearly forgotten the sweetness of holding the sword. Why had he ever set it down? Mentally, Nergal shook his head, though his body moved only to keep its face to the wolf; it mattered not. All that was of concern was ending the beast that challenged him.

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/3/2003 5:51:40 PM | Message Detail

The cold built within the long-dead soul as he pivoted, a surging blizzard within, a driving hail of knife-edged ice roaring in the gales of arctic mountains, a torrential jokulhaups of frozen thoughts and shattered screams. Unseen by the wraith, the nimbus of shade about his weapon darkened, swelling, a corona of black, yawning wide to devour all the light it could reach. The yowling maelstrom of freezing power raged in his mind, a cataclysm of ice to cocoon the world 'neath depthless glaciers. A single thought crystallized within its heart, raw, pure concept, unfettered by consciousness; he let it emerge. The icy howling within shrieked to its crescendo, its dark un-energies blossoming forth, seizing the winds about the wolf-beast and holding them fast, locked motionless in a moment stretched eternal by the clutches of entropy. A barrier formed of naught but thusly cauterized air surrounded the being on three sides, a curving wall of sky gone hard as steel wrapped about it, the opening within its confines facing the spectre. Even as the power of the shadows lashed forth to craft the intended tomb, Nergal burst from stillness to sprint, a leonine snarl issuing from his throat as he brought the Soultaker across his body, scything it back out again in a vicious horizontal stroke from his left to his right at the level of the crouched monster's throat, its aura of nothingness flaring pure black. --- Radio Shack - You've Got Questions, We've Got Blank Stares!

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/3/2003 7:02:10 PM | Message Detail

Amarouk’s body was tense, musculature bunched together, forced to hold back in a wait. The wraith growled out a single sound, a word, a name: Nergal. The name had been a rasp, a hoarse yet silky sound. His hackles parted in the approximation of a smile, a grin, something the wolf-like being let loose in battle often in hopes of simply being obnoxious. The light of a vibrantly colored world then shifted and shimmered, wavering again as a monotonous gray took over as Amarouk blinked again, his second sight taking effect once again. Something wasn’t quite right in this ethereal place, at least to the wolf-like being. Gazing at the sword in the wraith’s hand, the Amarouk watched as it appeared to bleed blackness into the air, to permeated the atmosphere around it, pulling in the light and making everything but a darker shade. A sense of a premonition began to register in Amarouk’s mind, gnawing like a caged animal as he grappled with the realization of what was now happening to him, or rather, around him. The air became stiffened in a semi circle to the left, right and back of Amarouk, yet no convex of atmospheric current moved in the stale breeze indicating a primordial elemental control. The walls seemed to be formed of nothing at all but the very air through sheer force of will, not through the finely tuned control of the element itself. The wolf-like being turned its attention to the walls of nothingness for but an instant to ascertain that there was indeed but two directions to go to escape it: upward and forward. Going up proved the larger of the two problems in itself, in that he would have to leap high enough to get over the wall, and there was no knowing exactly how high that height was at this point in time. Testing to find the exact height wasn’t worth the expenditure that might be needed to find the top and Amarouk found himself losing precious seconds as his mind whirled to find an answer. Going forward meant advancing the black creature that called itself Nergal. The question was answered even before Amarouk had time to ponder it thoroughly. There was but a single option open at this point that was feasible, and that was to charge forward. The wraith began moving, rushing at a blinding quick pace and slashed from Amarouk’s right to the left. A thought occurred to Amarouk in that instant and a plan presented itself to his churning mind before the strike could intercept with his throat, the position that the blade appeared directed at. Turning to his right while going onto his hind legs, the wolf-like being reached behind himself at his back with his left hand, grasping a small handle while continuing to spin in motion. Ripping the shield that lay beneath the cloak quickly from its strap and completing the turn, Amarouk brought the shield forward on his left arm, the black-blue metal of the shield screeching as it met the wraith’s blade of ethereal darkness. The large shield did its job well, holding off the strike that would have spelt doom if it had indeed connected. But as the blade met the shield, Amarouk reached back to his forearm slightly with his right furred and clawed hand for. Ripping Gunguire from its forearm sheath, hand enshrouding the cool metal pommel tightly and bringing the weapon in an upward swing to cleave straight through the shadow creature. With the wraiths blade now caught on his shield, a gleam entered the wolf-like being’s eyes, one that showed benign humor at the situation that was being presented for the creature of darkness, and the choice it would have to make in a moment to save itself…

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/3/2003 7:58:02 PM | Message Detail

Blazing with the essence of the void, the Soultaker crackled as it smote hard into the surface of a shield the lupine Amarouk had produced, the shadow-stuff coalesced about the blade sending a rime of frost shooting over the metallic surface in crazed fractal patterns. The wraith's arm jarred hard from the impact, the vibrations driving his teeth tight together, a hair's breadth from his tongue. The spectre scarcely noticed, the sensations registering distantly, somewhere outside the screaming blizzard winds that enwrapped him. He had seen the wolf was quick, much swifter than its size might suggest, but from within the eye of the storm, he could see every tiny motion the beast made down to the last. Tendons like cables snapped taut in its paw, muscles rippling in serpentine fashion along the back of what served it as a hand as the clawed fingers wrapped about the hilt of its massive sword. A crisp, sharp clink heralded the relase of the weapon from its moorings, freeing it to wreak its deadly havoc upon his form. All was abstracted, individual objects each neatly separated from one another, bite-sized portions for the consumption of a mind that knew no coherent thought, only action. That was well, for there was no time for aught else. Nergal's motions slowed only for the fraction of an instant as blade met shield, his forward momentum unchecked. His arm registered the cessation of its arc, the muscles beneath twisting almost before his mind could receive their message, his wrist snapping his fingers downwards to bring the flat of the Soultaker against the steely barrier in its path. The wraith's legs lashed out before him as he dropped his center of gravity back and down, his bare feet twisting to slide before him as he fell, his sword ringing free off the lower lip of the shield. The massive blade of the creature swept upwards, its tip flashing through the space his center had occupied until recently, a faint stinging sensation preceding the droplets it scattered into the air, tiny spheres of onyx dropping towards the earth from the shallow cut on his upper chest. Some far-off corner of the revenant's mind wondered, not for the first time, what it was that emerged from his flesh when it was riven; it went unanswered. All the momentum of the spirit's charge remained, his sprint become a low-flying lunge, the panther pouncing for the underbelly of the wolf. His right foot led the way, flying above his left, its heel scything upwards towards the lycanthrope's armored abdomen; his left skidded along the grassy earth, plowing a furrow through the roots and stems on its way towards one of the creature's supporting legs. A low, unearthly wail emanated from the tainted steel of the Soultaker, the dissonant keening mingling its moan with the wind's, as its tip was angled up towards its wielder's foe, aimed for the wolf's groin. Its dark corona flickered, its unlight diminishing, though a strange, cold shadow seemed to wrap about the spectre's extended right foot. The roiling flood of unholy power within the ghost...shifted, its currents eddying and whirling about, and their manifestation followed suit. The arc of stagnant air swung about, lifting skywards, curling into a dome scant inches above the wolf-being's head, perhaps even to repay the monstrosity for the jarring impact of its shield as its sword-stroke swept upwards. --- Radio Shack - You've Got Questions, We've Got Blank Stares!

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/5/2003 2:08:01 AM | Message Detail

The wraith’s sword had also intercepted with Amarouk’s shield, a cacophonic clang resounding to split the air, sending tendrils of ice across the metallic surface. Amarouk was aware of this as a chill penetrated the metallic substance formed of strange methods to chill straight through his gauntlets into his furred arm. The frost moved in swirls, creating strange patterns upon the spot where the wraith’s weapon smashed against the shield, more from the force of its momentum and doubly from that of the wolf-like beings’ earlier twist that brought the metal shard into place. A foul, retched stench filled the atmosphere as Gunguire rent through the wraiths white porcelain skin, a sticky black substance that flew up and out as the tip of the blade sundered the skin whereupon the droplets fell to the ground, succumbing to gravity. It was a rancid smell, like that of rotting flesh, foul to the nostrils. Amarouk snorted, trying to clear his nasal passages of the foul reek, the stench burning the back of his nose and throat as it wafted in with each inhalation of oxygen. Each deep breath heralded a further intake of the odor that assaulted the wolf-like beings’ mind as it tried to interpret the smell. There wasn’t time, though, for the mind to think; there was only time to respond, to move and keep moving. The air had become claustrophobic, moving in and around Amarouk, creating barriers where there before had been none. Invisible walls that sought to trap the lupine beast within their confines. No convex of air current heralded the wall’s beginnings, yet they were not a shock to the wolf-like being. The worlds of life and death were a funny thing. While we interacted within the vibrant world of color and life, it was the spiritual world of gray that happened first. Battles were waged far before they had ever begun in the physical realms, the metaphysical ties to that of the spiritual keeping things moving in a somewhat discordant motion. It was in this that Amarouk knew the walls would be coming in, his second sight giving warning to that which would come for him. But there was a problem that he had not expected, and that was that this wraith, Nergal, was capable of moving both spiritually and physically as one, so all his moves came without notice, save the spells that might be cast. It was unnerving not to know what would happen and how best to flirt dangerously with its coming only to leave unscathed. Nergal kept moving by the sheer force of his momentum. He lunged forward and downward, his black blade that drew in the light and vibrancy of the world into it moving with deathly bloodlust that wished to be satiated. He flew toward the opening of my legs. The upward movement of the wolf-like beings’ right arm couldn’t be stopped, and Amarouk moved his left arm downward in hopes of pushing the wraith to the ground. The cross-combination of movement of a leap from the ground caused Amarouk to move their the aim in a sideways twist overtop of the lunging wraith, moving out of the entrapment back to the freedom of movement he had once had. For a moment, Amarouk was able to see the wraith eye to eye, his ice blue staring into the mismatched darkened ones as they both traveled through the air.

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/5/2003 2:08:57 AM | Message Detail

Right foot touched ground first, and with that, a quick hop through the keening breeze of the mid-afternoon backward and Amarouk was free of the atmospheric construct. A growl erupted from Amarouk’s throat, discordant and jarring, sundering the moaning breeze with its sound. With a quick flick of his wrist, Gunguire was again moored within the special forearm sheath, whereas the shield hung loosely in the wolf-like beings’ left hand. Hackles raising in an imitation smile, Amarouk’s body erupted into a tower of flames. The red-orange fire licked upward and outward, setting alight the blades of grass all round him. The flames moved outward quickly, turning the ground ashen and black in charred remnants of the productive soil it had once been. Growling, Amarouk lowered his left shoulder while holding fast to his shield and charged the wraith, his body aglow in flames, hoping to char the shadow-spawn with the flirtatious dancing flames… (OOC: Posting late at night when I'm tired isn't a good habit, but I guess it makes for interesting reading, nonetheless. Well, enjoy sleep deprived postings.)

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/6/2003 9:29:49 PM | Message Detail

It was strange, what the mind might choose to focus on in the chaos of melee joined. It was as if the senses realized the possibility that they might cease to be in the blink of an eye, and vied with one another in a struggle to absorb some last shred of beauty to take with it as it died. Nergal had thousands of such oddities dwelling within the dusty halls of his memory: a split-second vision of a single perfect rose, a blaze of vibrant red life, its petals picked out in perfect clarity againt a background that defied any attempts of remembrance; the scent of oil, thick and greasy, coating the back of his throat as his arms flailed blindly at some now-nameless foe; the cry of a songbird disturbed into flight, a clarion warning to any who could understand to flee for their lives from the horrors below. One would think that after thousands of such sensory non-sequiturs, they would no longer seem quizzical, and yet each still puzzled the wraith once the battle had ceased and his thoughts solidified. The vision from this exchange that emblazoned itself in his mind were those eyes, pools of chill water standing on the sky itself. How they had gotten there, above him, boring into his own gaze, he did not consciously know; all that mattered was that they were there, and that somehow, some way, with only a matter of inches to spare overhead, the wolf-beast had managed to whirl over both feet and blade, leaving the spectre to skid on unhampered. His body knew better than he that this would not do. The Soultaker howled its disappointed hunger as Nergal spun it over in his hand, his right arm slamming the icy blade into the earth as he brought his left shoulder off the ground, his feet trading places as the right slid back beneath the kick that brought the whole of his left side into the air. Dirt and grass gave way with a slow, deep tearing sound, like a dulled butter knife ripped through burlap, as the dead man's weight pivoted around the fulcrum that the Soultaker had become. As the joints of his right arm began to wrench from wrist to shoulder, the spirit released the wire hilt for just a moment, reverting back to a grip better suited for swordplay as his left foot swung in a high arc before touching the earth once again, his right swiftly following. Nergal coiled himself into a low stance, his left leg to the rear, knee flexed to take more of his weight than the right, his dark-shrouded weapon slashing free of its earthen sheath as he levelled the tip towards his adversary, its shadow-aura nearly gone. The faint whisper lost in the back of the shell that screened thought from reaction was just realizing that he needed to stop and turn as he planted his soles firmly upon the plains. The wolf was agile beyond anything else he had fought; it was a lesson he had bought at small price, but one no less duly learned.

From: Dispeyr | Posted: 8/6/2003 9:30:08 PM | Message Detail

Even as the ghost registered the form of his quarry, the creature underwent a transformation from animal to elemental, exploding in a brilliant blaze of heat and flame the withered the foliage at his feet instantly to ash. Eyes tearing at the sudden light, Nergal dropped his gaze down and to the side, the towering hulk relegated to his peripheral vision. Far in the distance, a sense of shock mingled with fearful curiosity; they belonged to someone else. The wraith was steel and smoke, edge without substance, cold and silence. The fire-wolf charged, rushing him, shield leading the way, a streaking meteor ripe with the promise of cataclysm. Vestiges of thought too short to claim the name of concept flickered in and out of being behind the revenant's expressionless eyes, that beginnings of a thousand plans formed and abandoned in the space of a blink, his actions beginning before his chosen route completed itself. Nergal's knees flexed low, his backside nigh crushing the grasses beneath him, as the shadowy sword held before him moaned a low dirge. Under the spirit's feet, beneath the roots of the trampled grass, the darkness that had coated his weapon oozed, pulsed, coalescing itself into a great, black fist...and hammered upwards. The wraith sprang, hurling himself skywards, the ground upon which he stood erupting in a shower of dirt and rock as the blackness that had lurked within the soil swelled swiftly into a column of night that broke apart under the sun's rays. Nergal twisted as he flew, nearly a dozen feet above the battlefield, tumbling head over heels in a front flip, the Soultaker clutched over his head in both hands, his mind crying out in primal need to that which it had given form. The barrier of air swept to meet him, tilting, its cruve away from his form, angled to face the wolf-beast's rush from above. As he finished a single revolution, the spectre lashed out, his blade whelming downwards upon the dome of solid sky; a wave swept up along the foul steel, a ripple of indefinable nothing, colorless, formless, and yet there, somehow. Where wave met wall, the powers reacted violently, a seething pulsation that seemed to the eyes to twist reality itself, and the barrier gave way. Shards of air, laden with darkness and frozen with entropic stagnation, exploded from the impact, screaming down and out in a cone of jagged, sharp-edged pain, tearing up gobbets of flesh from the planet where they struck the ground. --- Radio Shack - You've Got Questions, We've Got Blank Stares!

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/7/2003 3:41:44 PM | Message Detail

The feeling of being on an ancient battlefield where commanders of stupidity ordered their men into blind charges to meet their deaths was overwhelming. Amarouk had the vague sense that he was both being foolhardy and idiotic in his movements. A charge was all well and good, when one knew what exactly they were facing off against. Amarouk had yet to fully place this creature, thus there were far too many variables being played with that when it came time to balance the equation, he would be left short, and that meant disastrous results. While his body was alight in rapturous flames that coursed along every inch of his body and spread outward in a circle of heat waves the shimmered incandescently in the air, he lunged forward, his shield acting as a means of defense against anything the wraith might try. As the wraith plunged forward, back scraping the ground, blades of grass being drawn up with small collisions of dirt and rock too as they were rent from the ground by the course back of the creature, or so was the thought of the wolf-like creature. Amarouk began to let his mind wander, each thought acting as a tangent, a byway on which to travel, his consciousness searching for mental threads to tie this creature to. In the space of seconds, ideas and thoughts were formulated, only to be cast off like a burden weighing too much to be brought up at the moment. The breeze had crescendo’d into that of a wind, howling and screaming taunts to the wolf-like beings’ ears. Each cry of pain and anguish carried along by the wind, as it whispered its torment at being the thrall of the convex of atmospheric current. The wind might yet be an ally, Amarouk thought almost idly, his body moving forward, until the wraith was bodily thrown skyward by a pulsating blackness. Bile rose in Amarouk’s throat at the subconscious thought of how wretched the scent of all this was. The primal need to retch on the ground came into the back of the wolf-like beings’ mind as it blinked, the world colliding in images of black-gray discourse and vibrantly colored harmony. In a mindless flurry, the ground was sundered; rock and dirt following the wraith as it moved through the air, particles of the ground falling back to earth like comets. The wall of air that had been Amarouk’s bane erupted in fury from the volatile explosion of darkness, each shard being send earthward, pieces of blackness falling from an enlightened heaven. Within the blink of an eye, Amarouk placed his shield into a similar sheath on his left forearm, moorings locking into place the metal collaboration. He had barely enough time to move, his body no longer listening to the screams of conscious thought coursing through every synapse. Body moving in a primal thought, action being the only course of option open. Dropping to all fours, Amarouk plunged forward a moment, then darted to the left, musculature bunching in preparation as he sprang off his legs, to the right of the route he had been traveling. His body in midair, the wraith baring down on where he had been a moment ago, Amarouk formulated a single conscious thought in a sea of animalistic urges.

From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 8/7/2003 3:42:02 PM | Message Detail

His body began to twist to the right as he sailed through the distraught wind, and flicking his right hand back by the wrist, he gripped the pommel of Gunguire for what had to be the thousandth time in his life. The black blade changed color upon his touch, changing from its jet color into that of a shimmering green that pulsated with unholy energy. Swinging the weapon to the right to further his spin, Amarouk did a complete circle, except this time as his blade set asunder the air, weaving its path through the convex of air. A wave of green light flashed forward, weaving through the air toward the wraith in a semi-circle: the wind slash… As Amarouk’s body completed its arc in the air, his hind legs touched ground, the thin slice of green hued air coming to attack the shadow creature. The attack itself would rent whatever it touched. Hackles raising in an approximation of a smile, Amarouk bared his fangs, standing tall to stare with ice blue eyes at the wraith as thoughts of its doom splashed through his mind in waves. It was only a matter of time before the wave met wraith…