Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

Arakad · Lore Keeper Joined: 02 Jan 2005 Posts: 940

The fight had been more intense than before; why didn't he know what happened. Still the dark figure paced the halls of the Necromancer's Arena, deep within the Dead Wood. He had to escape ... to get air before he took another life. Especially the life of the one he truly loved. Betrayed, again, It was true as his old teachings taught him - it takes a strong man to stand by himself against all odds. For decades he has stood alone, followed his own path that fate wove for him. Now; once again the warrior sets out to find that path again.

Coming to a stop before the sheathed katana he placed upon the table; for the most part to keep it out of distance from using it, he placed a gentle gloved finger tip upon the surface of the cobalt black casing - "The only truth I have ever known, rests within two feat of steel"

Gripping the blade delicately he straps it back upon his waist, turning on the heels of the kitsune fur boots that he had put aside when he originally laid to rest within the city of the dead, he walked to the dual thrones of the arena. Shadow covered eyes glazing over as his left hand raised slowly towards the throne to his right. Forcing the involuntary movement back he quickly came to the edge of the wall that over looked the arena floor.

The shadow covered figure took a single step forward and fell to the ground below, not even falling to a crouch as his legs barely bent from the minor leap. "It is time to move on - time to return to the Lost Lands and the City of the Dead from whence we awoke."

A brief glance over his shoulder at the arena itself before he waved a hand before him to fashion a gate. Stepping forth into the portal he came out at the Sepulcher of Umbra. The fur boots passing over the dew kissed grass as he made his ascent to the darkly lit Hall. Reaching to his head, he removed the circlet he wore merely as semblance, and the diamond ring upon his hand; placing each in turn at the foot of the thrones. Withdrawing his blade the warrior placed its tip upon the living stone of the building and uttered a silent prayer to the land itself. A spell of protection, a mutter of forgiveness, a curse of blasphemies to come...

Quickly coming to a stand the dark shadows that swirled around the man melted away as he quietly came to the exit. Not another word crossed his lips or his mind as he merely filtered out of sight and returning to where this all began.

Ceinwyn ab'Arawn · Transcendent Spammer Joined: 13 Dec 2004 Posts: 5017

The denizens of Umbra would notice an out of season crisp in the cool June air. Heavy frost coated cobbled tile, and dew was iced over in a path from the barracks to the Sepulcher. Mind the steps, coated in ice as they were, and walls that would make the frozen mountains of Caina green with jealousy.

Two obvious points of view clashed like ringing swords in the heart of night. Both parties stubbornly refusing to understand and accept. In the end, silence. Silence and bitter cold.