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Heroes of GieliLore

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6/4/2014 17:43:48   

Heroes of GieliLore

Prologue: Status Quo Show

For the mettle tested town of Battleon, this evening was thoroughly status quo. Townsfolk closing shop for the night, the merry reveling in the inn increasing in merriment as patrons ordered their ales, a cool and refreshing breeze becoming noticeable, an abruptly manifested ethereal rift in the town square, and the town’s watchful protector seeing and hearing it all from her room on the second floor of the inn.

Mysterious rifts? They were almost too normal these days, what with their frequency being right below invasions of mass armies and the surprise factor being right above a day where no zards ever had to be chased away from crops. Some of the merry men on the ground level of the inn probably saw it through windows or heard its whispers, but these men were more than prepared to help and had the ability to by now if they had to. Even a commoner learned to be lethal enough in a town like this.

The protector whom resided upstairs, Fayren Adsarius, merely rolled her eyes when she saw it from her window. How typical, she thought as she began to equip herself with some essentials for a fight. This vampire elf could have well strolled out in her undergarments as she was in presently and most likely be able to take care of what was soon to end up on this side of the rift, but she knew not to risk it. Luck had always been an annoying mistress to this her. Load for bear and you deal with a moglin’s science experiments, but take it easy and it may well be the next coming of The’Galin. One of these you could punt away, and it wasn't the latter option.

Gearing up didn’t take long. Fayren had surely donned this same equipment a thousand times over. A black dragon leather tunic foregoing sleeves with a tightness that highlighted a slender torso, similar trousers of the same material reaching to her ankles that displayed the same slenderness, and equally black foot wraps covering the soles of well kempt but frequently unshod feet. She almost didn’t bother to grab a weapon, but she did in spite of her tendency for lack of caution. A bone chilling dagger coated in potent venom would do the job, and it was her favorite. Not only would a joint lock up from the ice, but the entirety of the being would soon have venom in their veins.

Sighing softly to herself and brushing a lock of deep gray hair from her face, the vampire opened the door. In a mere few strides from her tall legs she was already at the steps downward and swiftly descended. An appearance by this vampiric elf was never missed by the moonlight revelers of Yulgar’s Inn, and even Yulgar himself took note of her as she descended. They rubbernecked to catch sight of her, as if she were some type of celebrity. A singular moment passed where the only sound was the soft slap of her bare feet against hard wood, but in the next, Yulgar hollered for a toast in her name. Just like that, the atmosphere went back to the way it was and the stares ceased. Respect without obsession, Fayren liked that about them.

“Keep an eye outside and have that hammer in reach, huh?” Fayren clasped Yulgar’s broad shoulder briefly as she passed, speaking in her iconic monotone husky voice that was barely more feminine than masculine. “Better safe than sorry, I’m sure you know.”

"'Ave an ale on the counter when you’re done ripping limbs off, lass!" The burly and jolly inn owner affirmed as he watched her saunter out the door. She didn’t have too far to go anyway, the rift being no more than thirty feet away in the town square and near the fountain. Yulgar always had a good view of the fights in the town square from behind his counter, and he always enjoyed it. Doubling as a blacksmith, you couldn't blame him.

Once Fayren was sufficiently close to this rift she knew it wasn't of this world. It wasn't so much the rift itself as it was the ominous feeling that came from it and the magics tied to it that affirmed this. Some familiar elements resided within, such as ice, fire, and darkness. It was the magic that Fayren didn’t know that made her cautious. Some called it non-Lorian magic; Fayren called it danger. Odder yet, these particular magics were not sensed to be aligned with harm or non harm, and equally they could be considered both like they were a neutrality.

The sun completely gave purchase to the moon and stars by now, the town square illuminated by dim silver light as well as the sparse torch here and there and a gentle breeze swayed the elf's hair. This particular brand of light casted onto the vampiric elf accentuated her gray and vaguely purple skin and painted her in a darker, bluer color. She figured she’d appear all the more intimidating to whatever came through this rift. Of course she positioned herself to take advantage of the lighting, too. Theatrics could be handy in some scenarios. Dagger grasped in the right hand, a newly conjured fireball in the left, and toes dug into the soil, Fayren awaited the arrival of what was coming.

Come on...a lovely book is being put off for you, riftwalk---


Her train of thought came to a startling and screeching halt when a brilliant flash of light with a crack of thunder broke from the rift as it closed. This could have left a paladin with stars in their eyes, and so a supposed creature of the night such as Fayren damn near had her very corneas ruptured. Quick as she was in combat, the sensory damage was swiftly repaired when she switched the fireball out for a channeling of a minor restoration spell directed to her eyes and ears. Composure regained and a resolve to strike down whatever did that, her ruby visage glared to the new arrival.

Who in the fires of Igneus is that?

The fires of Igneus didn’t have the answer and neither did Fayren.

< Message edited by Faeyrin -- 6/4/2014 19:09:13 >
Post #: 1
6/4/2014 17:50:10   

Chapter I: Me, Myself, and I

Who in Zamorak’s name is that?

Zamorak didn’t have the answer and neither did the demoness. Her own fiery visage which was more crimson in nature bore into the elf like woman across from her whom had apparently been waiting. This lovely looking woman reminded her a great deal of someone. Infernal irises, visible fangs, pale (though slightly purple), pointed ears, lack of foot wear…

Oh! Reminds me of...me. That’s...that’s new.

Regardless of the demoness’ innocent internal contemplation, the watchful Fayren fully scanned her from head to toe. A height of seven feet, skin white as the moon, dual horns of hair atop the demoness' head, and blood stained claws adorning her hands and feet made Fayren grasp the dagger with a white knuckle grip and furrow her brow.

The two spent a liberal amount of time staring each other down. The demoness donned a menacingly crimson and black tentacle wand on one hip, and a similar sphere on the other. She didn’t hold her weapons at the ready, she didn’t even raise a hand. This was a stark contrast to the vampiric elf across from her whom was poised to pounce any moment. Eventually the silence had been broke by the inn patrons slowly pouring out the door, Yulgar leading them. Only a handful, five or six.

“You have arrived in the town of Battleon, home of the last Guardian Tower on Lore.” Fayren spoke up with a commanding tone. The demoness’ right eyebrow piqued ever so slightly when she heard this voice. Monotone and emotion unclear? Even the elf’s voice was a parallel, though it was on the lower end of the spectrum and her own was on the higher end.

“You look far from home, riftwalker. May my fellow townsfolk and I have a name and purpose?” Still, the horned demoness didn’t respond yet. She simply continued to examine Fayren with intrigue. Fayren decided to elaborate. “You are not the first to arrive as you have, and you would not be the first to cause trouble. We are...weary.”

“Faeyrin Eris Inimica of Gielinor. I come through this rift in the name of adventure and conquest.” She finally spoke up in an equally monotone voice, though it were wispy and light; not low and near gravely. Though she did not know it immediately, she clearly found adventure and intrigue. The reactions of the observers helped to affirm it, their hushed whispers carried confusion. Faeyrin heard their doubts and hushed questions.

“No, that’s not Faeyrin!”? I’m not me? I’d believe I am, thank you. Unless...ohhhh...

< Message edited by Faeyrin -- 6/4/2014 19:07:21 >
Post #: 2
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