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Breeze of The Heavens

 
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The Redneck
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 16, 2017 3:18 pm    Post subject: Breeze of The Heavens Reply with quote

There were ways and means and backdoors. Thorn wasn't above trying any combination of all in an attempt to get to the home world of her blood. Up to and including sneaking and fighting her way past patrols, natives, and petitioners on three of Baator's layers.

Finally, wounded, sorely taxed, and sucking air hot enough to fry a chicken in through her teeth so it could scorch her throat and bake her lungs, she stood slumped before what seemed like an ordinary stone doorway. No runes marked its frame, no wardings hid it from anyone's eye. Literally anyone who knew where to look could find it. Could open it and cross over. She'd come here to do just that.

Open the door, slip through, finish fighting her way through to her bloodline's home.

Except the door wouldn't open.

The simple, even flimsy seeming barrier didn't so much as shimmy when she kicked it, rammed a shoulder against it. Hurled spells at it.

Even the gift of the blood of a dozen "devils" who'd come to investigate the magic thrown about couldn't crack the lock. Not even a smear of her own blood made a difference. Sighing in frustration and weary to the bone, the redneck took a moment with her head resting against the door way before pushing off to retrace her steps.

She'd discovered, much to her chagrin, that teleportation magicks didn't work as they should when in close proximity to the Doorway. And so had to find a pool of shadow further away to be able to return home.
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The Redneck
Ancient Wyrm
Ancient Wyrm


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PostPosted: Thu Apr 06, 2017 5:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Gateway was a circle of stone mushrooms in the center of a moonlit glade deep in a forgotten valley in Arborlon's deepest, oldest forest. A breeze stirred air that hadn't felt the weight of speech since Araushnee plotted her coup. Or it hadn't, until a scream of frustrated rage tore through the night.

Fey and sylvan creatures startled and fled, froze in their tracks, or hunkered down deeper in their nests and dens as the echoes rippled out and faded. She knelt in the thick grass at the center of the circle and sobbed. This was the last of them, the final of Nine. This had been her last best chance to find the loophole, the backdoor she needed to get to her blood's home.

The auburn haired Champion of her mate, 'Dia watched from outside the ring. Leaning casually against the trunk of a birch tree older than the worlds. Her right hand rested lightly on the hilt of her sword while the fingers of her left flexed and curled. From time to time her eyes narrowed and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Fruvor Thorn's current erratic behaviour was approaching worrying.

When the woman enacted the enchantments that turned her handflowers to blades and began, essentially attacking the ground 'Dia left her post and crossed into the ring. "Thorn. Thorn!" Her voice sharpened, came close to a bark. Her eyes dropped at Thorn's snarled response and she took an involuntary half step back while briefly wondering how she'd ever thought the blonde weak or soft.

"Even Cellin wasn't sure this would work, so enough. You're only wasting power and energy." Now laughter came, a quiet tremble underneath. "And terrifying the local wildlife. I think there's some dobies wondering if they're ever going to be able to find their livestock again. Enough Fruvor Thorn, it's enough for now."

To the relief of those denizens of the glade who'd been working since before the beginning of time to cleanse the taint left by an overly ambitious elven woman's overreaching lust for power, the blonde woman took the younger's advice.

"I'll get this *** figured out, and I'll break through their *** barriers." A vow made, a Promise given breath.

And the very air shivered with the Power behind it.
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The Redneck
Ancient Wyrm
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 20, 2017 1:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"You were right." This was her way of opening a conversation today. Add in a pretty tray with lemonade and cookies and it might be easier to pretend there wasn't still snow on the ground. Might be easier to pretend it's a lot closer to summer than it was, with color and texture exploding just past the edge of the porch where the garden fae reigned supreme through her gardens.

The old druid, nut brown skin wrinkle with age and careworn through centuries of duty, took up his cup of lemonade and briefly debated a cookie before responding. "What was I right about this time?"

She settled down on one of the chairs beside his and took a moment to stare off, out across the landscape that was just beginning to show itself again under the blanket of winter's touch. "I can't get there. The doorways are all sealed tight. Nothin' I do will get me through there. I can't get to Coi'cor."

Pretending to ignore the stubborn slant of her jaw, the determined sulk in her tone Cellin gestured with a cookie - the debate had been short lived and only for form. "Told y' so." Just because he was old, very old, and very powerful, didn't mean he was above pointing that out.

"And good. There's no point in goin' there. Not now. Not anymore."

Her incredulous, even appalled stare was met with a shrug.

"How can you --? There has to be something." Her grandfather was one of the most stubborn, downright obstinate people she knew. His giving up without a fight boggled her mind. Giving up on something that he, and his brother had fought so hard to save, to protect, just didn't compute.

"No girl, there's not a damn thing that can be done. Not this time, not last time." He snorted at her sharp look. "No, this isn't the first time this's happened. Not even the third or fourth." He thought for a moment, mentally tallying. "More like the twelfth, maybe more'n that. Can't remember that far back."

She sipped her lemonade and wished she'd thought to bring out a bottle of vodka for a ripple. "Then how do we save the people? How can get save somethin' at least?"

Cellin shook his head and reminded himself that she was still young. Young in her power and duty, young in her responsibilities and young in her actual age. Despite what she'd survived and how she'd been formed, she was still so painfully young and fresh. Tender still.

"We don't. We can't. No one can." With regret he set aside his drink and finished off his cookie. Used his power and will to fill the space between his hands with an image of a different solar system. "This is the Plane today."

Around the edges there was creeping black. An emptiness that was worse than nothing. It was an undoing. An erasure that bled forward like ink over water soaked paper. Stars died out, simply ceased to be, constellations fell soon after. Holes in the sky that flowed forward, down and around to swallow planets whole.

"This was the Plane last week." With a gesture like pulling yarn, fingers flexing and stretching, the image pulled back, zoomed out. The skies were full, mostly. Some odd pinpricks of darkness far, far away. So distant that it might have been imagined. And one by one the stars and their light, died.

"This is the World itself, today." Another gesture and the 'verse zoomed in. Focus fining down to the globe of Coi'cor itself. And the same ravenous black inching its way forward. Devouring everything in its way, leaving nothing but a cold void behind.

"Even the Powers, even the Gods are falling, being erased one by one. " There was a warning there in his voice. No matter where she'd risen, where she'd been born, her blood was as tied to the Plane, to the Realm as his was.

She was shaken, visibly so. The fingers of her left hand covered her mouth as though to stifle the terrified whimper. "We can't just let them all, let it all, end."

This was his world, his and Orin's. They'd fought to bring it back from the destruction of the Blood Wars. They'd struggled to save what was left of the population from cook pots and slave pits and worse. They, Cellin and Orin had shown her that she could, and did belong somewhere.

"We have to--."

"No. We don't. There's nothing to do girl. Everyone and everything left there?" He tipped his head in a pointed nod to the dying Plane he still showed her. "Is dead. They just don't know it yet."

When she opened her mouth to argue again his voice sharpened. "Everyone." A verbal slap to drive his point home. "Everythng."

Thorn flinched back, wincing and hissing as though physically struck, and he softened his voice. "They just don't know it yet."
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The Redneck
Ancient Wyrm
Ancient Wyrm


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PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2017 4:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"I can't not try, you know this." When she sank her teeth into something, the redneck didn't usually give up without a fight. Not when she'd decided it was worth fighting for.

Rage flared in him and when he leaned forward in his chair she remembered what it had been like to see Death coming for her. "Every time you do, you will be smote down by my own hand."

The air around him crackled with energy, heat throbbed in gathering waves fueled by anger, and fear. "If you manage to get there, you'll be trapped. Undone completely."

He cocked his head to the right and stared down his nose at her. "More than the fate of one world hangs in the balance now." In a back-handed gesture he pointed at the house. Indicated the man sprawled in front of the fire crackling cheerily in the living room's hearth. "What do you think he will do?"

For this she didn't have a flip answer, didn't have a smart-assed retort. All she could do was give the answer they both knew was truth. "Burn everything to ash, destroy anyone and anything in reach." Though her shoulders slumped, she wasn't defeated, wasn't giving up.

"Fine. Okay. I"m gonna be smited, a lot. Well, at least four or five times." Probably more. Not the point apparently because she kept right on talking, even when he opened his mouth to speak again. Probably to reiterate the smiting and the sheer amount of pain that was going to bring to her world. "How the *** do we keep this from happening again?"

Either the ramifications of his earlier warning had gone right over her head, or she was just as stubbornly ignoring the possibility of being erased as she was the probability of being flattened by a godly bitch-slap.

His bony shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "Don't know. Hells girl, no one even knows how, or when this mess started in the first place." Indignant and disgusted he puffed out a breath and smoothed a hand over his mustache and beard. "Think it might have something to do with how gods of the realm are made, but no one really knows.

"My memories only go back so far, those of the Briairblood from the beginning are all, washed out and faded. Blurry images on glass."

Understanding the far off look in his eye she waited, reining in her need to be doing something to sip her lemonade and nibble a cookie.

"But, things are already being done. If any of us have a chance of surviving it'll be the three who aren't on the Plane." This time when he shrugged it was to indicate how little he knew about their chances. "None of the gods have been off realm when it reset before, so there's that."

"There's mortals on the realm tasked with gatherin' artifacts that are connected. If they succeed they may just pull it off." He laughed at the expression on her face, and leaned to pat her shoulder in a consoling fashion.

"They can't save the world, nothin' can at this point. But if they can pull this off, they can help stop this from happenin' ever again." Cellin had faith in the group, but then he had more experience with the denizens of Coi'Cor than his granddaugther did.

For Thorn's part, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry from the absurdity of it. The desperation of it. Instead she shook her head, did her level best to ignore the years of conditioned responses between the world she'd been born on, and Rhy'din.

"So, what can I do to help?" The fate of an entire plane of existence rested on the shoulders of a small group of mortals, damn straight she wanted to help.

(Written with Cellin.)
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