His search had brought him to the most peaceful place that he could ask for - outside of the Court of Night, of course - and Camdis was only too happy to have his onyx hooves squelching and sucking against the warm muck of the swamp. He had used the weak telekinesis that flowed through his veins to braid his lengthy mane and tale, each wrapped around the other enough times to create a rather comical pair of buns. The stallion had caught a reflection of himself in the murky waters only minutes after finishing what he was sure was a regal hairstyle and nearly dislodged the massive styles with his guffaws.
To be quite honest, almost as soon as he had realized that he was actually laughing, Camdis had stopped, his body ramrod straight and muscles tense with shock. It had been the first time that he had truly laughed out of joy. Of course, the brute had found himself chuckling cruelly at himself from time to time, shaming his failures and mocking his own shortcomings, but he had never laughed in a manner that wasn't filled with self loathing.
It felt nice.
He had tried again after his initial surprise, tried to push his stomach and heave his lungs and shove the sound of happiness into the air, but he could not find the spark of joy that had summoned the sound. It was hard not to take that as yet another failure to add to his ever-growing list. Despite this, though, the stallion did not despair; instead, he reasoned that laughing once in his life was still better than never laughing.
And now, as he stood in the shade of a great and sprawling swamp tree, Camdis Lohir reveled in the memory of it, the lightness in his chest and the carefree sensation that had bubbled up from his belly and into the atmosphere.
If only he could find that relic, maybe it could teach him how to laugh again.
oh Cam, you sheltered dolt... doesn't even know how to laugh
06-25-2017, 04:41 PM
Played by
Staff [PM] Posts: 309 — Threads: 165 Signos: 989,640
Subtle markings line a handful of trees surrounding the equine, carved into their barks with some crude object. Upon closer inspection, they appear to roughly resemble arrows--and all see to point in the same direction.
@Camdis has found a few trees marked with arrows, all seeming to lead north. Perhaps it is a trick, but perhaps not? It is up to you to take their advice or not!
You may redeem two common items of their choosing or 250 signos! Simply post in the Signos Redemption Thread with what prize you'd like to claim and a link to this thread.
Happy writing!
To tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk.
Please be advised, tagging the Random Event account does not guarantee a response!
Despite having heard of some mysterious artefact and the whole realms' fascination with finding it, the little witch remains drawn to the swamp. Her swamp. Or so she tells herself. It is as impractical as it is idiotic to declare the surrounding area as her property: she has already encountered two others in the vicinity, and what is there to stop others from trudging through the murky waters? Certainly not her, for all of her potions and poisons are useless against a rampant invader. The witch is a rather dainty thing, fashioned from a design that favoured a cunning mind and slender body rather than bulging muscles and dim wits: she may consider the ashen trees and stagnant ponds as hers, but she knows better than to spill her own blood for such a claim. It is because of this reason that she does get offended when her gaze lands on the bloody bay stag.
Is he mad?She glances at the curved set of horns atop his bloody crown, but carries her gaze across his quaking body as she wades closer. I've never seen a man style his hair in such a way. Nor laugh so... maniacally. Her own tail drags across the surface of the water collecting all manner of debris, but her mane is pulled up into a much messier style of bun. She feels no embarrassment for having come to this realisation, however: she favours functionality over beauty. And sanity over... whatever that just was.
Deciding it to be best to proceed with caution rather than curiosity, the witch ceases her approach with a flurry of coughs. Not now, fool! You look weak! Her head immediately falls near the surface of the water as she attempts to catch her breath. A few moments pass before she glances at her companion with watery grey eyes.
"If you've come for the relic, others have already searched for it here." Her tone hints at some of her frustration with her ailment, but it can easily be mistaken for impatience. How many others will churn the banks of my swamp with their hooves before this relic is found?
Turning his gaze toward the trunk of the tree instead of the towering boughs, Camdis' silvery eyes were snagged upon what looked like markings, their rough edges hewn into the grey wood with a seemingly practiced efficiency. Taking a step closer and squinting against the gloom, the Exile King found that the markings were arrows, each of them pointing what his inner compass had deemed North. Cocking his head, the brute stretched his neck forward, brushing blackened lips against the various indents - was this the way to the relic? Was this what the magic string about his heart had been tugging him toward this whole time?
His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of a wracking cough. Brows shooting up and eyes widening in surprise, Camdis Lohir whirled to see a rather tiny mare bent over and hacking near the murky surface of the swamp. Concern sprang to the forefront of his mind, and before he knew what he was doing, the bloodied bay had taken a few small yet hurried steps in the stranger's direction. He caught himself, however, before he could offer his help, remembering his role as brooding prince. Shoving away his worried expression and trading it for one of cool consideration hopefully before the stranger could notice, the lad straightened his stance, a cruel part of him reveling in how he towered over the pale-haired maiden.
Swiveling an ear forward to catch her melodic voice, Camdis gave a nod in recognition; of course others had been here searching for the relic, of course that damnable magic would tug more than just he through the various lands that made up this new continent.
He was nothing special.
And yet...
The horned stag's gaze drifted back to the arrows etched into the tree, then straying back to the sharp-eyed lass. The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, "The relic searches for me as I search for it, I am following the tug of it's magic," He paused, stepping to the side and motioning with his crowned skull toward the etched trunk, "Would you like to come with me, to see where these arrows lead?"
The sound of the stag's hasty approach startles her, and the hag wrenches her head skyward midst-hack. Sickly green eyes widen to reveal the white surrounding them, but retreat beneath dark eyelids again as soon as the stranger stills. She watches him carefully rather than studiously now; there's no telling when the horned beast might pursue her again. It is during this time that she becomes fully aware of their contrasting heights, and his build and stature besides.He has the capability to topple a tree, it seems. Though his temperament says otherwise.
Her heart takes longer to settle back in its place between her ribs, but once it has it resumes the impartial state it knows best. Why else does it ignore the silent commands that have managed to bewitch so many others? Is there something wrong with it? With me? The witch licks her lips as she considers the issue. Not possible. It is best not to heed the call that this man refers to. If it isn't your own magic, leave it alone.
The thought is dismissed entirely when the red-headed stranger utters an invitation. The little hag rocks back on her heels, and swamp water climbs up the star-marked walls of her bodice as she considers the offer. Is it truly wise to delve deeper into a territory she knows little about with a man she believes to be mad? Certainly not, but was that really going to stop you from doing it? Her snowy crown dips in a nod, and she gives him her name as if that will make the venture any more sane, "Yana, by the way." The thin blanket of algae lying atop the water's surface parts as she approaches the hulking red beast. I take it you don't want me to refer to you as "horned man" or "beast" any longer. "What do you call yourself? And where are those arrows you mentioned?"
@Camdis -- Apologies for my tardiness, I'm super excited to meet your angsty boy <3 I don't want to make any excuses for being rusty, but it's hard not to compare myself to your fabulous writing.