![[ CLOSED♥ ] NOVUS rpg](https://novus-rpg.net/images/logo.png "[ CLOSED♥ ] NOVUS rpg"){kind=logo}
+- [ CLOSED♥ ] NOVUS rpg (https://novus-rpg.net)
+-- Forum: Realms (https://novus-rpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Solterra (https://novus-rpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=15)
+---- Forum: Archives (https://novus-rpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=93)
+---- Thread: [AW] Serpents in the Sand (/showthread.php?tid=1227)
Serpents in the Sand - Judal - 11-01-2017
The ruin of a presisting haunting, those memories in which the thoughtless horrors of the past lingered, digging as barbs into the flesh, the mind. When last had the hateful let go to wild abandon, forging new paths, creating victory in the rise of a new day? Few could even remember when a time before the cruelty began, so absolute was their addiction, their obsession. Judal loathed the indulgent gluttony of fine, fair magisters, those polished, perfumed portraits blazed into his skull as an avid worshipper would, set upon the alter to whisper unfaltering prayer. And yet, no solemn oath of protection or love would be offered, only the hailmarry of desolation, of unwellness. Perhaps it was childish, refusing to relinquish his forged ties, the brand of fire still as hot as the day it had first glided upon his skin as a sinful lover. No open wounds laid sore upon his flesh, delicate threadings of silver clothe, faultless and whole. No agonizing fear tormented him in the night, darkness, and relief, an unfamiliar companion. Time had healed all things, as was the prophet's command, a winding back of the clock to the beginning, where all things meant little in the naivety of the unknowing. He was child in what it meant to hold true freedom, a will all his own. An aggressor in the norms of society, in what it meant to be a slave, all that was his actions were long decided for him, forced into place by the sole fact that there was no other option. Rebel, or lose the power to choose, to want for something better. Feel hate, so that the daunting prospect of unrelenting fear did not consume the possibility of forgiveness. Those great temples, a dominating shadowscape beneath which his life had played, no longer seemed so close, so suffocating. A distant monster, a titan locked beneath the lock of Zeus' reign, Judal had crossed the vast deserts, fleeing where once the red-winged birds had flown, a fond, wanting dream from eons past. Now, it seemed that there was no end to the conflict, no end to the melancholy mother, offering only her barren bones to his seeking eyes. Breathing, scorched by the sun, ashen where his thirst had remained unquenched for so long, silver mercury took into the winding dunes, the plethora of bone white grit beneath which his hooves ground to dust. How many hopefuls laid perished beneath his feet, taken to the drift when fooly had led them astray. He would survive, as was the way of his kin, the sun blood hot, smoldering within his chest, casting the flame of the forge from within, and yet, even he, the hot-blooded fool, found no love for this purgatory he walked. Some had whispered of another land, a world brought anew beneath the guidance of civilized world, a promise that while tempting, had little weight in his steps. Whether they existed or not, he would see the other side of the wastes, wound find a place free from both chains and empty kinship, and build his life anew. Speak |
RE: Serpents in the Sand - Killian - 11-05-2017
I hope to arrive to my death
Late, in love, and a little drunk
If there weren’t so many striking differences between the ocean and the desert, one could say that they were similar. Rolling waves cast upon a sea of water, like the cresting dunes disrupting the smooth surface of a golden sea of sand. Silent buzzards replaced the cheering gulls. Various travelers, seasick sailors and wandering merchants, used the expanses to traverse from place to place, and were easily enough lost or shipwrecked within the perilous yet open area. And the sky above was always just as wide, with stars settled upon an inky black, to be used by the travelers as a means of navigation. An eternal yet ever-changing map.
Killian was caught in-between. He had considered the life of a pirate, joining others like himself, though being a speck upon the endless blue wasn’t quite as alluring. He couldn’t possibly find a way to sneak off in the night. It was too restrictive. So, he remained land-bound, wandering the waves of sand, looking for weary travelers who had found themselves lost, and who would perhaps pay the hefty toll for a right of passage to their destination.
Today, the Coyote Prince found himself ambling, moving farther past the Oasis than usual. He left a long winding trail behind him, his hooves digging shallow graves beneath each pressed heel. He continued to climb the dunes, stopping at each peak to cast his blue-green gaze across the expanse. Slowly he crested a dune, and came to a deliberate stop. A smile crossed his face, and he looked on as a new form came into view. Tipping his head to the side, he tried to place the man, but was unsuccessful. Perhaps the stallion was a foreigner? Though, Killian easily could have seen the man before in town but just hadn’t cataloged the person. It was uncommon for him to recognize faces he had seen during fleeting interactions. Honestly, he didn’t look upon the faces of passerby’s that often, instead seeking out the treasures they wore upon their bodies, or perhaps the dainty or succulent curves of a rear end. The distant stallion may be handsome, but he really didn’t suit Killian’s preferences, so he wouldn’t recognize him by his rump, but those bracelets? The way they shimmered in the sun, looking like liquid gold coiling around his foreleg, those he would remember. Yet, the man who wore the bands was monstrous, so the thief didn’t even begin to consider ways to cheat him of his adornments. He was smarter than that. Still, seeing as how he was already within sight, he decided he would provide a warm greeting. Besides, who was to say the stallion wasn’t lost upon this beautiful hellscape? It was easy enough to get lost within the desert, and the other man, build strong and proud, would be a useful friend should he ever need brute strength on his side, and would happily find a place among the court’s soldiers. He would be much less useful with his meat picked off of his bones by the various vultures and scavengers that found themselves at home here. Tossing his forelock from his masked face, he began his descent from the dune.
“Greetings, stranger!” he called out, voice carrying easily over the windswept sand as he trotted through towards the man. His gait was easy, casual, and he wore a cordial smile upon his face. He stopped at a respectful distance, dipping his crowned head in greeting. “Are you lost? Or just passing through?”
Killian was caught in-between. He had considered the life of a pirate, joining others like himself, though being a speck upon the endless blue wasn’t quite as alluring. He couldn’t possibly find a way to sneak off in the night. It was too restrictive. So, he remained land-bound, wandering the waves of sand, looking for weary travelers who had found themselves lost, and who would perhaps pay the hefty toll for a right of passage to their destination.
Today, the Coyote Prince found himself ambling, moving farther past the Oasis than usual. He left a long winding trail behind him, his hooves digging shallow graves beneath each pressed heel. He continued to climb the dunes, stopping at each peak to cast his blue-green gaze across the expanse. Slowly he crested a dune, and came to a deliberate stop. A smile crossed his face, and he looked on as a new form came into view. Tipping his head to the side, he tried to place the man, but was unsuccessful. Perhaps the stallion was a foreigner? Though, Killian easily could have seen the man before in town but just hadn’t cataloged the person. It was uncommon for him to recognize faces he had seen during fleeting interactions. Honestly, he didn’t look upon the faces of passerby’s that often, instead seeking out the treasures they wore upon their bodies, or perhaps the dainty or succulent curves of a rear end. The distant stallion may be handsome, but he really didn’t suit Killian’s preferences, so he wouldn’t recognize him by his rump, but those bracelets? The way they shimmered in the sun, looking like liquid gold coiling around his foreleg, those he would remember. Yet, the man who wore the bands was monstrous, so the thief didn’t even begin to consider ways to cheat him of his adornments. He was smarter than that. Still, seeing as how he was already within sight, he decided he would provide a warm greeting. Besides, who was to say the stallion wasn’t lost upon this beautiful hellscape? It was easy enough to get lost within the desert, and the other man, build strong and proud, would be a useful friend should he ever need brute strength on his side, and would happily find a place among the court’s soldiers. He would be much less useful with his meat picked off of his bones by the various vultures and scavengers that found themselves at home here. Tossing his forelock from his masked face, he began his descent from the dune.
“Greetings, stranger!” he called out, voice carrying easily over the windswept sand as he trotted through towards the man. His gait was easy, casual, and he wore a cordial smile upon his face. He stopped at a respectful distance, dipping his crowned head in greeting. “Are you lost? Or just passing through?”