Post by Leoxander on May 26, 2006 23:49:29 GMT -5
Imar stumbles into the cavernous room, amber eyes glittering, and dark visage drawn tightly across angular bones. He sees Renin, and standing to his full hight, the tall drow barks "What are you doing here Renin?"
Renin eyes narrow and squint, the form of his rivaled drow now swimming into focus across the great room. Gloved palm falls, imideatly, to rest upon twin daggers at hip, but linger there. "What business do you have here?"
Renin lets a feral growl slip from tightly clasped lips, though slowly inches his hands from the magiked brands at the ready. “This is no coincidence… why have you come Imar?”
Imar stares at Renin through eyes as hard as gem stones, and his expression is set into a forbidding mask of suppressed rage “ I will not waste time, I have to go in the pool, and try to help Tenebrae and Danielle” His shoulders lift in a self mocking shrug, and the evidence of pain ripples across his features as a trickle of fresh blood seeps from the soiled bandage “Leo and Castellian have already gone, but I think they are going to need what I possess, if they are to win out, and bring them home.”
Renin allows the faintest of smirks to meander about his visage, “And you thought you’d leave without me?” His next steps are hasty, blade holstered upon shoulder thrust from its encasement in a single, fluid tug- thus thrusting beams of shadow-piercing rays of light. The shorter of the two drow steps once more towards his counterpart, “Damn I’m ready.”
Imar 's gaze drifts back to the pool, and a shudder runs through his entire body “It’s a bad place Renin, filled with dreams and illusions, and worse, it’s alive, I can feel it breathing, and hear it thinking” Turning back to the spellblade “You can’t go in their without paying a price, and there all in there. It’s my fault Renin, I brought Tenebrae here when she was injured, and was here when she jumped in. I was, and is still am linked to her, and she blames me. So, for good or ill, I am bound to the necromancer, and I must go in after her.” Turning Imar moves steadily toward the pool.
Larewen winds her way through the corridors, barely able to recall which turns to make as she moves. After a matter of moments, she steps out into the room, gaze uneasily sliding to the remnants of the statue creatues before turning towards the two drow near the pool.
Renin nods, knowing full well what this pool may do to him, his will, and his sanity. Allowing a begrudged look to come across his face he takes steps in accordance with Imar, “I have faced a portion of this… this place’s power before, and I emerged the victor.” Zephyr is held ahead like a torch, as the two drow have now gone silent, their decent about to commence.
Imar ’s mind fills with the horror and fear of those trapped, and with the pending darkness already filling his heart, he steps toward the obsidian menace. Blood pounding in his ears, the tall drow gazes for a long moment at the limitless depths of the purist black he has ever seen, and he shakes his snow covered head, as though confused at his own recklessness. Drawing in a lung full of life giving air, he leaps forward. As booted feet touch the flat, malevolent surface, the vast room tilts on its axis, and explodes into a cascade of obsidian jewels, surrounded by millions of glittering diamonds
Renin follows suit, sandaled feet sliding forward before springing in an almighty leap. The athletic frame of Renin is twirled, sword positioned to pierce the murky waters first upon entering. Impact brings about a vile collision of good and evil, light and dark- Zephyr competing with this vile pool. In a moment it is all but over, however, and the remnant of the Telleson house is off in search of his comrades.
Larewen watches in utter silence as the two drow enter the pool also. The count, as far as she knew, was now six. Her brow furrows before her pointed ears pick up the sound of another within the chamber. As he appears in her view, her gaze drifts to his form, studying him in silence.
Imar sinks into the bottomless depths, his mind explodes with a miasma of images and voices. Thousands of minds, and their illusions, all fluid and dynamic as they span an immense timeline, flood Imar’s head, and he opens his mouth to scream in pain. Water fills his lungs, and for a moment all goes black. He blinks, and looking around, he finds himself standing in a deep underground cavern. A dank, feted odor fills the air, and a trickle of water is the only sound. Amber eyes move around the cave, and despite his awareness of the normal acuity of his night vision, he is never the less stunned by the sheer clarity of his perceptions. Shadowy corners, normally impenetrable even to his drow eyes, leap into sharp focus, and every detail of rock and lurking denizen is clearly exposed to view. A breath of memory slides across his mind, and for a moment, Imar knows exactly where he is. Then, like water from a cracked glass, 200 years of hunting the under dark, and the warmth of house and family, seep from the illusionist’s mind, and in seconds he is a stranger to the world of his birth. Confusion and fear radiate from the depths his luminous gaze, and he mutters softly to himself “I think this is the under dark, but I don’t recognize anything.” His brows draw together in a tight frown as he realizes that he doesn't remember the under dark, nor even the language he was born to. His gaze travels around the cavern, stopping to look closely at the various tunnels which lead to places only the dark ones who brought him here are aware off, and his voice, low and bitter “What have I done?”
Larewen bites her lower lip and slips back out the way she came. Six were in, and that was six too many.
Renin form pierces the pitch-black waters. The following incidents flash before the drow’s eyes in naught but a few seconds, though they seem to span a good minute. His form slowly slips to a rocky ledge of the pool, the jagged edge of some stone catching amidst his swirling attire through his plummet. Flesh is torn and blood is given in abundance to the waters. In a gurgle the drow’s breath is rapidly sought, but a moment’s concentration proves that such a thing is no longer needed in this warped zone. Still to anxious to talk he ‘glides’ through the waters towards Imar, blade held before his traversing body like a beacon- should sight be hindered any more.
Imar turns to face Renin, and for what seems to him an age, but was in fact merely seconds, his perception of reality slips, and control shifts to another, darker Imar. Nostrils flare wide as he smells the man’s salty sweat, strong even after the swim, and he draws in the man’s individual pheromones. Instantly infuriated, a deep growl issues from between taut lips, and in a blur of movement, the tall drow is in front of Renin. Fingers curled into claws, grasp his shirt with immense strength and pulls him out of the water. With effortless ease, he picks Renin up of the ground, and stares at him. The sweet metallic taint of his blood, thick and hot, fills his mind and body with a visceral deep hunger. He feels the drow’s breath, warm and shallow, caressing his face, and he revels in the sound of his heart, crashing with ever greater force against their prison of bone. Pulling him close, a flood of crimson stains the amber depths of his cold, hard eyes, and a rictus grin of anger spreads across his visage as he snarls“Renin! Who are you?”
Renin blinks back the natural tears that come with a lack of oxygen. For the first time since he can remember- Renin is scared- not fearing for his life as he would in battle or at war, but fearing for his soul, his spirit, even his rapture should he die. In the midst of this living hell something kicks through the swirling pools to encircle his neck, screaming some inaudible taunt. In a whir of crimson the object wisps into view. Ren gasps, arms flail and struggle to push the drow backward from his assailant. His mind struggles for some explanation, any, but there is none- and yet this demonified form of Ren stands before him in his narrowed field of vision. Despite his worries he manages to speak, “I thought… I killed you.” With that he slashes Zephyr forth, intent on severing the replica’s arm, but due to the horrendous magiks slices instead into the meat of his opposite arm, screams echo and blood flows… this truly is hell.
Imar stares at Renin, confused by the drow’s actions and distracted by the blood spilling the other man’s arm. Clarity of thought begins to filter into his mind, and recognition flares in his gaze. A deep rumble shakes the floor and walls of the cavern, and high above the two forms a series of sharp cracks are the only warning of imminent danger. Stalactites of all sizes begin raining down from the shadowy roof to smash or bury themselves into the rock floor. Imar’s fingers release their hold on Renin’s shirt and he allows him to land on his own two feet again The tall drow stares with hard eyes at the falling rocks, and with barked word to Renin “Move!”.he seems to glide through falling debris, not allowing a single rock to touch him as he makes his way to an exit tunnel.
Renin eyes narrow and squint, the form of his rivaled drow now swimming into focus across the great room. Gloved palm falls, imideatly, to rest upon twin daggers at hip, but linger there. "What business do you have here?"
Renin lets a feral growl slip from tightly clasped lips, though slowly inches his hands from the magiked brands at the ready. “This is no coincidence… why have you come Imar?”
Imar stares at Renin through eyes as hard as gem stones, and his expression is set into a forbidding mask of suppressed rage “ I will not waste time, I have to go in the pool, and try to help Tenebrae and Danielle” His shoulders lift in a self mocking shrug, and the evidence of pain ripples across his features as a trickle of fresh blood seeps from the soiled bandage “Leo and Castellian have already gone, but I think they are going to need what I possess, if they are to win out, and bring them home.”
Renin allows the faintest of smirks to meander about his visage, “And you thought you’d leave without me?” His next steps are hasty, blade holstered upon shoulder thrust from its encasement in a single, fluid tug- thus thrusting beams of shadow-piercing rays of light. The shorter of the two drow steps once more towards his counterpart, “Damn I’m ready.”
Imar 's gaze drifts back to the pool, and a shudder runs through his entire body “It’s a bad place Renin, filled with dreams and illusions, and worse, it’s alive, I can feel it breathing, and hear it thinking” Turning back to the spellblade “You can’t go in their without paying a price, and there all in there. It’s my fault Renin, I brought Tenebrae here when she was injured, and was here when she jumped in. I was, and is still am linked to her, and she blames me. So, for good or ill, I am bound to the necromancer, and I must go in after her.” Turning Imar moves steadily toward the pool.
Larewen winds her way through the corridors, barely able to recall which turns to make as she moves. After a matter of moments, she steps out into the room, gaze uneasily sliding to the remnants of the statue creatues before turning towards the two drow near the pool.
Renin nods, knowing full well what this pool may do to him, his will, and his sanity. Allowing a begrudged look to come across his face he takes steps in accordance with Imar, “I have faced a portion of this… this place’s power before, and I emerged the victor.” Zephyr is held ahead like a torch, as the two drow have now gone silent, their decent about to commence.
Imar ’s mind fills with the horror and fear of those trapped, and with the pending darkness already filling his heart, he steps toward the obsidian menace. Blood pounding in his ears, the tall drow gazes for a long moment at the limitless depths of the purist black he has ever seen, and he shakes his snow covered head, as though confused at his own recklessness. Drawing in a lung full of life giving air, he leaps forward. As booted feet touch the flat, malevolent surface, the vast room tilts on its axis, and explodes into a cascade of obsidian jewels, surrounded by millions of glittering diamonds
Renin follows suit, sandaled feet sliding forward before springing in an almighty leap. The athletic frame of Renin is twirled, sword positioned to pierce the murky waters first upon entering. Impact brings about a vile collision of good and evil, light and dark- Zephyr competing with this vile pool. In a moment it is all but over, however, and the remnant of the Telleson house is off in search of his comrades.
Larewen watches in utter silence as the two drow enter the pool also. The count, as far as she knew, was now six. Her brow furrows before her pointed ears pick up the sound of another within the chamber. As he appears in her view, her gaze drifts to his form, studying him in silence.
Imar sinks into the bottomless depths, his mind explodes with a miasma of images and voices. Thousands of minds, and their illusions, all fluid and dynamic as they span an immense timeline, flood Imar’s head, and he opens his mouth to scream in pain. Water fills his lungs, and for a moment all goes black. He blinks, and looking around, he finds himself standing in a deep underground cavern. A dank, feted odor fills the air, and a trickle of water is the only sound. Amber eyes move around the cave, and despite his awareness of the normal acuity of his night vision, he is never the less stunned by the sheer clarity of his perceptions. Shadowy corners, normally impenetrable even to his drow eyes, leap into sharp focus, and every detail of rock and lurking denizen is clearly exposed to view. A breath of memory slides across his mind, and for a moment, Imar knows exactly where he is. Then, like water from a cracked glass, 200 years of hunting the under dark, and the warmth of house and family, seep from the illusionist’s mind, and in seconds he is a stranger to the world of his birth. Confusion and fear radiate from the depths his luminous gaze, and he mutters softly to himself “I think this is the under dark, but I don’t recognize anything.” His brows draw together in a tight frown as he realizes that he doesn't remember the under dark, nor even the language he was born to. His gaze travels around the cavern, stopping to look closely at the various tunnels which lead to places only the dark ones who brought him here are aware off, and his voice, low and bitter “What have I done?”
Larewen bites her lower lip and slips back out the way she came. Six were in, and that was six too many.
Renin form pierces the pitch-black waters. The following incidents flash before the drow’s eyes in naught but a few seconds, though they seem to span a good minute. His form slowly slips to a rocky ledge of the pool, the jagged edge of some stone catching amidst his swirling attire through his plummet. Flesh is torn and blood is given in abundance to the waters. In a gurgle the drow’s breath is rapidly sought, but a moment’s concentration proves that such a thing is no longer needed in this warped zone. Still to anxious to talk he ‘glides’ through the waters towards Imar, blade held before his traversing body like a beacon- should sight be hindered any more.
Imar turns to face Renin, and for what seems to him an age, but was in fact merely seconds, his perception of reality slips, and control shifts to another, darker Imar. Nostrils flare wide as he smells the man’s salty sweat, strong even after the swim, and he draws in the man’s individual pheromones. Instantly infuriated, a deep growl issues from between taut lips, and in a blur of movement, the tall drow is in front of Renin. Fingers curled into claws, grasp his shirt with immense strength and pulls him out of the water. With effortless ease, he picks Renin up of the ground, and stares at him. The sweet metallic taint of his blood, thick and hot, fills his mind and body with a visceral deep hunger. He feels the drow’s breath, warm and shallow, caressing his face, and he revels in the sound of his heart, crashing with ever greater force against their prison of bone. Pulling him close, a flood of crimson stains the amber depths of his cold, hard eyes, and a rictus grin of anger spreads across his visage as he snarls“Renin! Who are you?”
Renin blinks back the natural tears that come with a lack of oxygen. For the first time since he can remember- Renin is scared- not fearing for his life as he would in battle or at war, but fearing for his soul, his spirit, even his rapture should he die. In the midst of this living hell something kicks through the swirling pools to encircle his neck, screaming some inaudible taunt. In a whir of crimson the object wisps into view. Ren gasps, arms flail and struggle to push the drow backward from his assailant. His mind struggles for some explanation, any, but there is none- and yet this demonified form of Ren stands before him in his narrowed field of vision. Despite his worries he manages to speak, “I thought… I killed you.” With that he slashes Zephyr forth, intent on severing the replica’s arm, but due to the horrendous magiks slices instead into the meat of his opposite arm, screams echo and blood flows… this truly is hell.
Imar stares at Renin, confused by the drow’s actions and distracted by the blood spilling the other man’s arm. Clarity of thought begins to filter into his mind, and recognition flares in his gaze. A deep rumble shakes the floor and walls of the cavern, and high above the two forms a series of sharp cracks are the only warning of imminent danger. Stalactites of all sizes begin raining down from the shadowy roof to smash or bury themselves into the rock floor. Imar’s fingers release their hold on Renin’s shirt and he allows him to land on his own two feet again The tall drow stares with hard eyes at the falling rocks, and with barked word to Renin “Move!”.he seems to glide through falling debris, not allowing a single rock to touch him as he makes his way to an exit tunnel.