Cinnamara
Board Imp
Sticks and Stones.
Posts: 139
|
Post by Cinnamara on Feb 11, 2009 4:09:56 GMT -5
Cinnamara sat within the wintered garden. Its flowers were dead, and covered with ice, and they sang a saddened song. The wind howled softly, whipping her hair about her in a flurry of bright color against her pale ivory skin. She was alone in the gardens, except for the flowers and the voice which so often talked with her.
“Such dark little flowers, yes?” a voice asked.
“No, not at all.” Cinnamara replied.
“come now, are you going to sit here alone all day?” the voice asked.
“Yes.”
She leaned back, closing her eyes. She was hungry, but she knew she must control her thirst. She could not give in to the voice in her head, and become the beast that she was deep down. “Cinnamara,” she heard her name called loud from the forest. Her head jerked up, her pale red eyes scanning the area. A hand idly went to a long ear, stroking it carefully, as she bit her bottom lip. Who was calling her name?
The song came from the flowers, louder than before, as if to distract her from the sounds that beckoned her forth from the forest. Uich gwennen na 'wanath ah na dhín. An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen. Boe naid bain gwannathar, Boe cuil ban firitha. Boe naer gwannathach, Oo-eekh gwehn-nehn nah wah-nahth ah nah theen. Ahn oo-eekh gwehn-nehn nah ring-ern ahm-bar hen. Boh nide bine gwahn-nah-thar, Boh koo-eel bahn fear-ee-thah. Boh nire gwahn-nah-thakh, It was a song from her native language, long before her “death” and her “rebirth.” She tried to shake away the memories that flooded back to her of her living days, as she swept to her feet, removing her shoes to feel the snow against her bare feet. The voice came again, calling louder, beckoning her into the forest. Slowly, she took her crown, laying it within the snow, and drawing up her sheath. She tied its cords around her waist, before making her way, barefoot to the dark forest. Light rays dotted the forest, as if freckles upon the frozen earth. Animal tracks dotted the area, rabbits, deer, foxes, all manifestations of creatures one would find within any forest in Centrawoven. She trudged, too numb to emotion to feel the cold against it. There was a sound, a swift moving within the forest, yet nothing she could sense or see. Suddenly, a cold hand touched her shoulder, and she spun around swiftly. Before her stood a manisfestation of a shade, its errie eyes attempting to bore into any manner of a soul that she
"It took you long enough to arrive, Queen Cinnamara.”
|
|
|
Post by Skeith, the Forsaken on Feb 11, 2009 13:40:48 GMT -5
spoke the figure. Ebony smoke rolled off the silhouette of the figure. His cold dark gauntlet resting on the blanched skin of the vampiress. "The time has come to heed his call. Chaos claimed these lands years ago when the tower still stood watching over all of you." The shade spoke directing it's glowing eyes toward the ruins of a half standing tower, a memory of when Centrawoven was under a demonic rule. "Who are you?" asked Cinnamara. Lifting back the hood of his cloak revealed a decay like face. Features that still appeared handsome and strong but corruption and decay had taken it's toll. Pupils solid white just like his think spiked hair. "I am Pizbur Skeith, the Forsaken. I serve the Twisted One, he wants his army to assemble." Skeith said shifting around to the back of Cinnamara. Skeith leaned in closely to Cinnamara's ear and whispered, "There is a threat to these lands that you do not know of. A invoker of light is getting a foot hold in the hills. You must snuff it out before it becomes too late." "I would take on this adversary alone but it seems that the task is not for me. I dread I am not in his favor but it is you. My job is to assist and give my guidance when needed."
|
|
Cinnamara
Board Imp
Sticks and Stones.
Posts: 139
|
Post by Cinnamara on Feb 11, 2009 15:45:17 GMT -5
Cinnamara tilted her head, biting her bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood, in concentration“And this task is for I? How would you consider I do this?”
“Because you can do this.” the voice said, laughing hauntily.
“But why me?” she asked, leaning backward, looking up at the man that stood before her. She was unsure of this situation, and it could be seen within her eyes. This man was nearly twice her size, and probably could catch her if she tried to take flight. She listened to his words, but slowly took a few steps backward.
|
|
|
Post by Skeith, the Forsaken on Feb 11, 2009 15:56:29 GMT -5
"Why with this..." Skeith reached into his cloak pulling out a sphere. Similar to a crystal ball but evil in orgin. It had a glow to it that resembled a pyre of hatred. "With this you can see the unseen. Unfortunatley it will not talk...without payment that is." Skeith said slyly.
"The sphere hungers for blood. As a vampire I'm sure the feeling is not foreign." Skeith handed the sphere to Cinamara, the orb flickered and let out a moan. "Go find blood tonight you hunt."
|
|
Cinnamara
Board Imp
Sticks and Stones.
Posts: 139
|
Post by Cinnamara on Feb 12, 2009 23:45:11 GMT -5
Cinnnamara bit her bottom lip a bit harder, looking at the crystal ball that she held within her hand. Her mind seemed drawn to it, entranced by some unknown magical spell. She craddled it gently in her hands, and she could feel it warm against her fingers and palm.
"Hunt?" she aksed, tilting her head slightly. The voice whispered at the back of her mind, "Yess, Cinnamara, Hunt... Hunt..."
"No, I can't-...." Cinnamara replied aloud, only to hear the voice louder in the back of her mind. "YES! Hunt... Feed, feed the crystal ball..." The voice was irritating, loud, making her ears themselves ring.
She turned to Skeith, tilting her head in the opposite manner, "But why me? Why cannot anyone else do this?" This was different, not something she had ever thought would happen to her.
|
|
|
Post by Skeith, the Forsaken on Feb 13, 2009 21:54:29 GMT -5
"It is not me who calls you into service." Skeith said with a upset tone. "Now go do what your kind do sister......." Skeith turned away from the vampire and paused. "....it tastes better than you think." With that the dark knight summoned his dread steed and rode off.
"To town you will hunt the easiest. The wills of the tavern people are weak. They will easily be drawn into your trap." A voice rang out to Cinnamara
The wind blew and the sky cleared. She would hunt by moon light......
|
|
Cinnamara
Board Imp
Sticks and Stones.
Posts: 139
|
Post by Cinnamara on Feb 19, 2009 21:59:34 GMT -5
A Shrill wind caught her hair, dancing it around her face. She bit her bottom lip, ripping the elegant skirt she wore across the bottom, ripping it kneel length. She then ripped it up her thigh on one side and kicked her shoes from her feet.
Her hand stuffed the orb quickly into her pouch, before taking off to run down the forest path, leaving the death knight far behind. She covered the ground quickly, knowing that her act would not be performed within her kingdom. Her people would be protected from her antics, so thus she ran to the boarders of Centrawoven. There was a tavern within the closest village to the Centrawoven boarder. She paused outside of it and composed herself carefully before making her entrance. She shut the door behind herself, finding herself standing in the center of a rather empty pub, several men scattered here and there.
Cinnamara spied one at the bar, his hair long and his face worn from battle. She moved towards him, running her hand down this back carefully. He turned to look up at her, and in an instant, she made a fluid movement, grabbing his head and jerking it backward with her long slender fingers. She swept down, sinking her long, pointed teeth down, into his tough flesh.
|
|
Logar
Soldier of Fortune
Spine-breaker
Posts: 46
|
Post by Logar on Mar 19, 2009 15:59:11 GMT -5
His eyes flew open once he realized it's prescence passing by his camp, feeling an new yet familiar urge to stop it. Without even realizing he had transformed he was darting through the woods after this aura, that seemed all to familiar to him for some reason. he holwed as he felt himself nearing the source until he came to a small tavern and knew it was about to begin. He howled again as he jumped through the window. A growl came deep from his throat as he locked eyes with her
|
|
Cinnamara
Board Imp
Sticks and Stones.
Posts: 139
|
Post by Cinnamara on Mar 19, 2009 19:08:38 GMT -5
A large, blood-specked grin crossed her face as she turned slowly. Her eyes darted to the wolf, as she started to sidestep, crouching low to the ground. Her primal vampiric instincts were telling her to kill it, whatever it was. A werewolf? Perhaps, or perhaps a mere wolf brought in by the smell of blood.
She watched again, carefully, her eyes glowing a dark, bloodthirsty red. What was this wolf about to do? She was unsure. Her lips curled back, offering a long, deep hiss.
|
|
Logar
Soldier of Fortune
Spine-breaker
Posts: 46
|
Post by Logar on Mar 20, 2009 11:53:48 GMT -5
She ducked his lunge with an unnaturually graceful fluidity, distracted by her move, he slips on the bar and falls behind it hitting his head and temporarily becoming unconcious.
When he awoke a short moment later he found himself lying naked behind the bar of an unfamiliar tavern. Getting up to explore this new place he sees a image of beauty like none he has ever seen before, her hair was firey red, and her skin pale like the moon.
Finally he says"Greetings, my name is Ephraim. Please excuse my current attire but, may i have a name to call this beauty before me?"
|
|
Devon the Bard
Soldier of Fortune
"At last, my arm is complete..." Sweeny Todd
Posts: 33
|
Post by Devon the Bard on Mar 27, 2009 7:26:24 GMT -5
Alcohol has many pleasing qualities. Many pleasing things indeed may be written about it. Among them is the depressive quality that makes one better able to sleep. Devon liked this quality above all others. Learning to set one’s senses to a hair trigger meant becoming a light sleeper, and adding paranoia to that trait meant one might barely sleep at all. Someone in Devon’s profession, such as it is, could ill afford to not receive at least some sleep. Most vexing perhaps was when the alcohol wore off. Absinthe laced with laudanum would still carry only so far. Devon sat bolt upright in bed. His eyes blearily traced the way to the door as his mind ticked through the things every rogue should know when waking in an unfamiliar room.
Am I alone? No, but the barmaid sleeps yet beside me. Are my possessions and person intact? Yes. There is a dagger under the pillow, my brace of throwing knives at the bedside table, both my short swords are on my belt on the chair at the foot of the bed, my bow and quiver are resting by the door. My clothes are… Some investigations will be needed here… It isn’t Dawn yet. I need a drink.
The cleric in him told him without pause after the rogue finally finished his nattering that all his spells from the previous day were still ready. Traveling did not usually entail lacing into every object one passed with Flamestrike or ought similar. Devon dressed and made his way down into the tavern, armed as always, to buy or steal a drink. Yet at the bottom of the stairs in the inn he paused. The image of a woman with hair like flames and skin of alabaster conversing with a naked man in the center of the tavern greeted him.
“Lords and saints… I must be more drunk than I thought.”
He muttered to himself, unaware or uncaring that they could hear every word he said. Devon walked to the space behind the bar, selected an unbroken bottle, and uncorked it with his teeth. He spat the cork onto the floor and took a long pull from the bottle and muttered something in elvish before even addressing them again.
“Do I even want to know what has transpired here?”
|
|
Cinnamara
Board Imp
Sticks and Stones.
Posts: 139
|
Post by Cinnamara on Mar 28, 2009 5:46:34 GMT -5
Cinnamara smiled sweetly, turning to face the man who had wandered down the stairs. She wiped a bit of blood from her lip carefully with a finger, before licking it off. "Oh, no of course not. This be nothing but a figment of your imagination, a dream that has run utterly rampant with you. Perhaps it would be best if you took yourself back upstairs to go to bed."
She gave him a swift bow before spinning to face the other man-thing that had entered earlier. "May I help you little one?" she asked, the voices in her head screaming at her with every moment. She took a step closer to the man, more brave, tilting her head to the side, a sway in her walk.
"Oh, there are many things that one may call me, but you may call me Sin." she grinned a bit, as she began to circle him carefully, eyeing him. Almost...sizing him up.
|
|
Devon the Bard
Soldier of Fortune
"At last, my arm is complete..." Sweeny Todd
Posts: 33
|
Post by Devon the Bard on Mar 28, 2009 11:16:14 GMT -5
“Figments of my imagination seem prone to making thinly-veiled threats of late.”
Devon said, taking another long draw from the bottle and setting it down on the bar only slightly too hard, listening to the glass strain and the liquid inside slosh until it settled again. He narrowed his eyes at the woman as she advanced on the other man. Something about this woman seemed off. The cleric part of him knew somehow that some part of her was wholly unnatural. Alcohol fuzzed his senses of course, but it didn’t take much to guess what was happening. Deciding on a course of action Devon waited to see her next move. He had no idea what to make of the naked gentleman but he would burn that bridge when it came time.
“I like the tavern, I think I’ll stay right here and enjoy my drink.”
|
|
Cyodie Centrawoven
Board Imp
Master of Catgirls
Your friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you
Posts: 525
|
Post by Cyodie Centrawoven on Mar 28, 2009 23:39:56 GMT -5
“Figments of my imagination seem prone to making thinly-veiled threats of late.” ((This was amazing. I lol'd... HARD.))
|
|
Devon the Bard
Soldier of Fortune
"At last, my arm is complete..." Sweeny Todd
Posts: 33
|
Post by Devon the Bard on Mar 29, 2009 10:59:59 GMT -5
((*takes a bow* I do my best.))
|
|