- This topic has 49 replies, 6 voices, and was last updated 2 years, 1 month ago by
.
-
Posts
-
A treasure hunt.
Really.
Kithi couldn’t believe Saren* was sending her to go searching for a scroll. Apparently Saren had found out that a map leading to the location of a lost Anim blade was located somewhere inside this dilapidated city. Kithi felt that if Saren was going to force her to do something it should at least have a bit more fighting and deception and a bit less… searching through dirt.
The light of the Warhlam candle she was holding flickered.
“Sathith!” Well based on the way this candle was burning and the ones left in her pack she had about 3 days before all of her candles would be out and she would be completely exposed to the destructive force of the Warhlam.
Voices. Kithi looked for their source and found a trap door with a broken lock.
Return of Reagin! What if there were already others here in search of the map also.
Kithi slipped into the sewer below and hid in the shadows. If there was competition she would need to scope them out before she engaged…
The image was made with starryai (I just happened to make it for fun today and thought it might fit) also * will denote footnotes or things I need to mention about Khavarian culture in order to add or allow you to better make sense of some finer points within my pieces without me having to insert large side tangents that could take away from the story. without further ado
*1 Saren: Saren is the familiar name of Sorin-Saren (as Khavarian society doesn’t typically use s’s theres talk of changer her name to Corin-Caren still pronounced Sorin-Saren) one of the leaders of the Anim stronghold who some suspect (especially her political counterpart Korvix-Kardinalis) supports the Anim Rebel group the Second Watch. Kithi also feels that She owes Sorin-Saren a debt because Sorin-Saren saved her from being executed. Kithis use of Saren to refer to Sorin-Saren (Sorin-Saren is Sarens Formal name the equivalent of us calling someone Mr. ____ or President ___ or Lord ___) would be the effective equivalent of (example) you calling your schools Principal John instead of Dr. Doe.
Alas and a lack (of light that is.) Cold, wet, hungery, and. . . now seeing things. A circle of tiny little lights. Bah! No! The Great Spy of Gulley won’t go mad! He won’t be driven to insanity by imagine flashes of fluorescence! He will think calmly. It is nothing. Nothing at- stars? STARS! JOY! EXALTATIONS OF HAPPINESS AND WONDER! I WON’T DIE IN THIS BLACK STINKING PIT!!!
Oh, lovely glitter splashed sky, how I delight in thy splindifferas glow! Thou art- Cold Talons! Gwahh! . . . oh, it a massive ape creature. Apes as a rule are pretty dumb. Compose my self.
“You, ape thing! Refrain from touching my person, or risk losing one of your long dangly phalanges. I am The Great Spy of Gulley, and if you dare to provoked my rath, I could kill you in 39 way with this very gunk I stand in! Now, direct me to the nearest tavern or what not where I may aquire sustenance. . . linguistic terms escape you? Be not afeared, usually they return in a couple seconds.”
You will love what you spend time with.
Dang you guys have really cool characters :0 I was planning on just doing Bronwen as always but I think I’ll introduce Ilwyn! (he fits better with the fantasy thing we have going on)
This took me too long and turned out kinda funny but oh well 😛
Also no one has to spell it Il’wyn; that’s just how I write it in his story because that’s how names are structured in his tribe.
Monsters creep
In the silent dark-deep
In the filling-eye hills
In the shriveled hand-keepDang you guys have really cool characters :0
Thanks!! Il’wyn sounds cool! Love the art btw!!
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
@Mineralizedwritings Thank you very much!
arghh I just noticed the typo please ignore it XD
Monsters creep
In the silent dark-deep
In the filling-eye hills
In the shriveled hand-keepto echo mineralizedwritings
nice art! (I wish I could draw that well) And thanks for saying our characters are cool Ilwyn looks very cool as well can’t wait to see how he interacts with the story!
Also if it is helpful to anyone here Kithi has a INTJ-T personality that borderlines ENTJ-T
also funnily enough my brother is INFP-A
@folith-feolin yes that’s helpful (or at least interesting)!
I love INTJ characters, my other very-favorite OC is an INTJ-T! She’s actually the one in my current pfp.
And thank you very much 😀
Monsters creep
In the silent dark-deep
In the filling-eye hills
In the shriveled hand-keepSorry for the delayed response! I was trying to give some of the other members a chance to catch up 🙂
@Ava-blue @Whale-keeper feel free to jump in whenever (No pressure, I know life gets in the way)!Keiryn
Oops. Not what I meant too do.
Keiryn scurries out of the trapdoor, being sure to leave it open.
Doesn’t seem like the most welcoming place.
“You, ape thing! Refrain from touching my person, or risk losing one of your long dangly phalanges. I am The Great Spy of Gulley, and if you dare to provoked my rath, I could kill you in 39 way with this very gunk I stand in!”
Keiryn eyes the Great Spy of Gulley with utter confusion, and fear.
…’Kill you in 39 way with this very gunk’…?
How would you…?
I guess it’s best to not think about that.
Keiryn stares at the Spy of the Gulley with bewilderment, unsure what to respond with.
“Now, direct me to the nearest tavern or what not where I may aquire sustenance.”
…Tavren? What is a tavern?
I guess I have no choice but to help…
Keiryn glances down at the open trapdoor, it’s opening now covered in sediment and gunk.
I suppose if I wanted to go back now… I’d have to fit through that nasty doorway.
“ . . linguistic terms escape you? Be not afeared, usually they return in a couple seconds.”
“Uh…” Keiryn tries to speak, but his voice feels unusually weak.
“I’ll help you find a tavern.” Keiryn says.
“Oh, and uh, what’s a tavern…? Keiryn’s face reddens slightly with embarrassment.
I’m definitely supposed to know what that is.
Keiryn looks down the long sewer pipe, taking interest in the tall city towers in the distance. They stand crooked, as if on unstable ground. Keiryn squints, noticing a figure emerging from the fog.
Perhaps she knows where a tavern is.
Keiryn glances back at the Great Spy of the Gulley.
’Kill you in 39 way with this very gunk’
…Yeah, that’s gonna haunt me for a while.
@folith-feolin That’s your character at the end- just encase you couldn’t tell. I wanted to clarify because I left it pretty vague. 😀"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
Here’s a updated drawing of Keiryn. I just like this one a bit better than the other one I posted here.
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
@mineralizedwritings @folith-feolin
“I’ll help you find a tavern.”
Good! Perhaps this creature isn’t a complete barbarian!
“Oh, and uh, what’s a tavern…?.
On the other paw. . . I’m rarely that lucky. I guess I’ll have to spell it out for him.
“A tavern, you know, like a hostelry. . . inn. . . public house?
Sigh
“A watering hole?”
Why does this always happen to me?
“You know what, forget it. Just take me to your big chief, or whatever you call him.”
Then, I might be able to- What is that thing over there!
You will love what you spend time with.
“A tavern, you know, like a hostelry. . . inn. . . public house?
Keiryn stares at the creature, entirely dumbfounded.
“A watering hole?”
A well? He want’s me to take him to a well?
“You know what, forget it. Just take me to your big chief, or whatever you call him.”
Big chief? I guess I’m just going to look more stupid if I ask what that is now.
Kieryn’s attention turns too the figure emerging from the fog in the distance.
“I don’t have any ‘big chief’. We can go ask her if there’s a Tavern or uh.. watering hole… whatever it is your looking for.” Keiryn says, pointing into the distance.
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
Whittaker
Wextoriae Manual of the World… Rule one… page… o-one…
The boy – Whittaker – cradled his forehead in his hands. It was hard to breathe without gagging. The light blinded him.
He opened his eyes again and again. Surely someone would see him then – the light might reflect off his soul. Everyone said the eyes were windows to the soul.
Where am I? Where is everyone? And where is that light coming from?
He finally resigned to only using his other senses. Listening was hard enough. Light was loud. It pulsed into his head, giving him a headache. But breathing it in was nice. He gulped in the fresh light, which overflowed in his lungs.
Somehow, Whittaker had a feeling in his gut that he was inside something. Maybe if he could find the wall, he could follow it to some kind of So he staggered forward into the nothingness.
Unfortunately, Whittaker’s feet were unhelpful. They had never had a good sense of direction, aided with sight or otherwise. They, and his legs, were undeniably clumsy. He nearly tripped over them.
Whittaker laughed, throat huskier than golden wheat, rustling in the breeze. Gabriella’s right. I’d never be good at ballet.
…Gabriella.
Where was she? In his pocket?
“Gab?” Whittaker reached into the patchy pocket on the chest of his overalls. It was empty.
He had to find her. What if – what if he had stepped on her?
“Gab? Gab!” Whittaker’s eyes opened wide, and shut again just as quickly. “Where are you? Where are we? Did we win? Where – how -”
In the midst of his heart-pounding panic, his feet slipped. He grasped for the sides of the hole, but a damp steam draped over him, and the rest of him slipped as well.
He landed on all fours, like a spider. Hands and knees covered in cold, slimy dirt, he called out, “Hello?”
His surroundings had changed. His voice now bounced off the walls of a tunnel, and he had that feeling – the inside feeling – again. Only it was heavier, and made his throat tighten with fear.
Tears welled up for a moment in Whittaker’s eyes, but he knew better. Giants didn’t cry. They only cried to lure in other creatures, like crocodiles. Cried big, ugly tears.
So instead, he wrapped his arms around his knees, and hid his head. That was easy enough. His knees already came well above his ears.
Then something caught his attention.
Something glimmered before him. His inner, giant eye had opened. He reached out a finger, and lightly traced a tiny, silver thread. It was a home-string.
It might, it must, have been Gabriella’s. It was thin, which meant it belonged to a small creature. It didn’t look frayed or loosened in the slightest.
Now, Whittaker sensed other beings. Somewhere down this glowing, too-cramped-for-comfort tunnel.
If they aren’t giants, which is true, then they must be in the dark right now. I am now sympathetic for them.
That is a good word. Sympathetic. Having an automatic inner dictionary is helpful, sometimes.
He followed the thread, slowly crawling, and trying not to forget where his steps had been.
Connected… mind… disconnected… you know, that’s the question. Is my mind all over the place, or in just the right place at the wrong time? So many tangents…
Thinking was a great way to stay occupied. So the giant boy muttered to himself, as he wandered through the sewers, in search for his adopted sister.
#ProtectAdolinKholin
I suppose I’m at great fault for not replying yet. After all, I started the topic. 🙂 Only excuse I have is that I caught a particularly rough sickness this last week, and had school to catch up on.
Despite that, I’ve enjoyed reading your entries. 😛
#ProtectAdolinKholin
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.