Silvryn was seated on a squat boulder facing the darkness, restlessly tossing a slender dagger in her hands. Hilt, point, hilt, point...it glinted in the dim firelight, as did her violet eyes every time she chanced to glance over her shoulder. Those said eyes were the first to spot Yrudit, and the Princess slipped soundlessly off her seat, a lithe form in the pressing darkness.

"Well?"

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(Is Penfire still Silvryn's counterpart in this one?)

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Eccaia stared blankly into the flickering flames of the fire and twisted a lock of her unbound raven hair between her fingers. It was wonderful to stop and relax after their long and tiring journey. They were not quite through yet, but they were near enough to their destination. Still, Eccaia, along with the rest of her companions, knew that their dangers were certainly not over.

She was roused from her thoughts and reflections when she saw Silvryn raise up from her seat on a nearby boulder and move off into the distance. Eccaia followed her movements with her dark green eyes and was alerted by a dim blue light that Yrudit had returned. Wondering what he had found out, she waited for the two to return back to the camp.

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I'm back!

The stars were out, their light penetrating even through the haze that seemed to cover this land, and the moon was high in the sky. However--the same haze that was defeated by the starlight somehow distorted the moon. The friendly silver orb in the sky now looked a sickly green, casting a unearthly light upon the Wastland of Duzakha. That alone disturbed Tal more than anything else. Born and raised in the desert, he had loved the stars and moon--during the day, the sun's fierce rays could become extremely hot, sometimes even killing someone, but at night, the Desertborn rejoiced. They could take in the beauty of their desert home without blistering heat beating down on them--they could admire gorgeous panoramas, and take joy in the cool night wind. During the day, the same wind seemed hot and dusty.

So it impacted Tal, when they entered Duzakha, that even the beautiful light of the moon was not able to enlighten the dark land. Something else was, though--a bonfire surrounded by dancing half-ogres. Under normal situations, maybe one of the assassins would have one, but this was the homeland of Yrudit, so he seemed the best choice.

He was returning, now--Silvryn had stepped out into the darkness, and his searching eyes found what she was looking at. The lizardman Shaman had returned from his scouting trip. Rolling nimbly to his feet, Tal walked to the two companions of his. As he had thought--they were discussing what Yrudit had seen.

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Landen sat just outside the ring of light that radiated from the fire, but close enough for the light to flicker across his face for a split second, then dissapear. His eyes wandering back and forth across the semi-farmiliar land of Duzakha.

Barely suppressing a yawn, his eyes seemed to be wieghted down with iron as he solemly watched the stars twinkle, one after the other, in sinc with all of the other billions of little lights, as if talking with one another. He could faintly hear the rustling of Silvryn shifting her dagger in her hands, and soon was lulled into a trance-like state with the soft noise.

But then Landen jumped very visibly as his eyes opened wide. Silvryn had spoke, and obviously, Yrudit had returned. Landen sat back, waiting intently for the lizardman's reply as a furrow knit itself into his brow.

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

I should have caught it earlier, but reading SG's post I noticed it, and then I went back and found it in Artemis' post--it doesn't make much sense for them to have a fire if they're simply waiting while Yrudit scouts out to see if it's safe to pass the half-ogres, especially considering that if they can see the Half-Ogres' fire, then the Half-Ogres should be able to see their fire.

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Hmm. Good point. *slaps head* Well, I was just going off from what I saw. (I'm not meaning to pass the blame, by any means, but its true.)

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Okay, that's what I figured.

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[they're on the other side of the mound, sheltered by an overhang. the half-ogres are still a little distance off, and since it's a cold night I decided they could make camp here]

Yrudit evinced his customary bow to Princess Silvryn before turning to the others. His companions consisted mostly of elves, whose abilities he respected but felt vastly uncomfortable around. They'd proved their worth time and time again during the former chapters of their journey, but he couldn't help but feel inferior to their willowy grace - Silvryn especially. He knew the feeling to be borne from decades of distrust and victimization among the more civilized races - most notably the intolerant and prejudiced humans - but the relevation hardly mitigated his unease. In fact, all of them with the possible exception of Tal - a kindred spirit through his homeland and nomadic ways - seemed uncanny and unreadable.

"They are half-ogres and, for the moment, do not pose a threat," he reported in his rasping voice. The naturally occurring alcove they'd built their campfire in shielded them somewhat from the cold, but they still felt the biting wind through their thick woolen cloaks. Yrudit went over to help them pile more wood on the dying flames. There existed among them those who possessed fire manipulation, but they'd learned the hard way from past experiences that magic drew unwanted attention.

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In the shadows something eyed the travellers by the bond fire or someone to be precise, Simurg quietly glanced around the campfire from a branch nearby in the form of an owl. It was most convinient he had to admit, you only had to pick a form of a predator animal and no one would bother you all tough it did always have the weird feeling of returning to his old form. It was as if he had never been a humanoid to begin with when he returned, but he was getting used to it after a hundred years. No wonder, there had been weeks, even months that he had spent in the form of animals and never bothered to care about travellers.

Yet now this small group had catched his eye and he wanted to learn as much as he could for it he had been a dreadfully long time away from cilization. No wonder as the gifted order had not forgotten him and probably never would unless he would take the life of some hapless traveller. Simurg jumped off the branch and flew past few tree`s, over the travellers camp fire and then landed cleary where he was visible. Life had become such a dull thing to him and he always wanted to find ways to entertain himself. Playing with the minds of travellers and seeing how they reacted was surprisingly amusing from time to time.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"Is it safe to camp here tonight?" Silvryn pressed the reptilian mage, following him with a brief glance at the bonfire in the distance. "Or should we move to a different location?"

Half-ogres were, to put it succintly, about as intelligent as rocks; but Silvryn had no wish to be attacked by them even considering this. They had enough difficulties to worry about without adding ogres in the equation.

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Solech sat by the fire, legs crossed, hands on his knees, reaching towards the heat. He looked up as Yrudit told what he had found, then looked back to the flames. Red-orange light flickered, revealing then hiding the long scars on the right side of his face. He glanced up as an owl landed within the circle of firelight, then looked back down into the flames.

Kithsytha sat nearby, listening to the conversation between Silvryn and Yrudit.

Miniya's eyes darted around the small camp. As far as she was concerned, the half-ogres weren't going to cause any trouble, but if everyone else wanted to make a big deal over it, she didn't care. She leaned back and listened to Yrudit and Silvryn's discussion.

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- married fingon fingolfinion 6/4/13 -
~art credit~

"Safe enough," Yrudit replied with a shrug. "Catch your rest. We merely skirt the edge of Duzakha now, but tomorrow we begin cutting a straight line for this so-called fortress." He dropped a talon to an interior pocket of his azure robes, as if to reassure himself. He still had the map that Lord Eruditis of the Gifted Order had offered them. It was archaic, but things didn't change much in the Wasteland.

Except for the new presence of these mounds. And that change bothered him more than a little, perhaps because he didn't believe in coincidences.

Leaving his companions by the campfire, he ducked through the alcove's entrance to stand outside, enjoying the quiet and the solitude. He felt at home here, from the way his heritage still called out for this bleak desolation. A faint nuance above him, a flapping of almost silent wings, and he glanced up to see an owl perched above him. A curious anomaly - Duzakha was hardly a fitting place for prey. He remembered the strange dark creatures who pursued them.

Again, he didn't believe in coincidences.

With this in mind, he raised his hands towards the nocturnal bird as if to spellcast.

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(Meldawen... did you like not see this?)

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Simurg blinked his eyes as the lizardman raised his hand towards him as this seemed like a futile attempt, but the possibility of this lizard being a gifted did come to his mind now. He was left with few options either to reveal himself just to toy around with the lizard or to escape, fighting was out of the question and it would be too troublesome and dangerous. Simurg was bored after all and thus the first option seemed the most pleasing, he concentrated his thoughts and spoke to the lizard telephaticly.

And what do you think you are going to accomplish by waving your hand at me lizard? A calm and amused voice rang in the head of Yrudit.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!