The world of Amnar

[Solivagus]

Authors note: Just a quick point before we start. Ness believes I shouldn't really mention this, but I think it best if we do and I won the argument for once. All I wanted to say was that anyone who does decide to join this adventure should know before hand that neither Ness nor myself have so far had the (to use Peredhil's excellent wording) discipline to finish either a story we have tried to write or a roleplay that we have tried to run. Therefore anyone thinking of joining should be warned that, although we will try our very best to stick with it and run it to its conclusion, we may not succeed. Now, with that said and with Ness muttering in my ear about me rambling, let the adventure begin. Feel free to join at anytime.

 

The white marble that formed the four walls of the temple seemed to glow with an inner light, somehow managing to magnify the small amount of sunlight coming through the entrance so that the entire building was lit. The roof of the temple formed a peak high above the two intruders of the temple, held up by six tall pillars made of the same white marble. In the exact centre of the room stood a marble pedastal, about waist height on an average man. Upon the pedastal was a wooden stand cradling a perfectly formed sword.

 

"There it is." Morlas said, rather unesserserily in Nessaroth's opinion. His deep voice was filled with reverance as the companions approached the sword.

 

As Nessaroth drew closer she noticed the fine detail on the blade, the runes of magic that had been inscribed onto the curved katana blade when it was forged by the elven smiths over five centuries ago. The hilt of the sword was two hands long, a split leather grip that would ensure that the hilt did not become slippery from the blood of enemies.

 

As they got within a foot of the pedastal Nessaroth's hackles raised, a sure sign of danger. At the same time a wall of green flame shot from the ground upwards, forming a barrier around the sword. Without hesitation Morlas plunged his arm into the flames. Instantly the fire ran up his arm. Leaving his clothes intact, Nessaroth still saw the flame rise up to his face, his features suddenly obscured by roaring green flames.

 

Raising her muzzle to the temple roof Nessaroth let out a long, mournful howl as the flames consumed her friend of many years. The form she had taken, that of an immense black dog, shimmered slightly. In its place there crouched a human woman, tears streaming down her face as she looked miserably at the floor.

 

"Ness?"

 

Nessaroth blinked at the sound of the voice that spoke her name. It sounded like Morlas's, but that couldn't be! Slowly she raised her head, half hoping and half dreading what she would see. To her shock, Morlas stood before her, a look of puzzlement on his face. His dark, almost black eyes held a look of puzzlement and concern, his brown tanned skin looking untouched by flames. In his hands he held the sword.

 

"How...?" Nessaroth couldn't finish her question, too stunned to say anymore. Sudden understanding appeared in Morlas's eyes, and he hastened to explain.

 

"I'm sorry, I forgot you didn't know. It's a gift from my father. Fire, magic or otherwise, cannot affect me." His voice was so full of sincere apology that Nessaroth instantly forgave him. This was the first time she had ever heard him mention his father, and she desperatly wanted to ask what sort of creature he had been to pass on such an extraordinary gift. She knew, though, that Morlas was uncomfortable talking about his family, so she let the matter drop.

 

"I'm just glad you're alright." she answered, a smile brightening her face. Turning around she made her way towards the temple exit, Morlas walking at her side while belting the katana around his waist.

Edited September 2, 2004 by Solivagus

[Solivagus]

As the two of them walked towards the entrance they both started suddenly. Around the door, in red glowing letters, was writing in a language they had never seen before, let alone understood.

 

"Interesting." Morlas's voice game out in a puzzeled whisper, as it always did when he was pondering something.

 

"I'd hardly call it interesting." Nessaroth replied, irritation filling her voice. "It's just some language that we don't understand."

 

"Yes but still, something tells me it's important." Replied Morlas. To Nessaroth's exasperation he took paper, quill and ink from within one of the many hidden pockets of the black cloak he always wore, and carefully copied down the writing, making sure to get every detail correct. Once he was done he folded the paper and replaced it in his pocket along with the rest of his equipment.

 

"Can we go now?" Nessaroth asked, irritation still putting an edge on her voice. Without waiting for a reply she marched out of the temple exit and towards the forest that they had had to pass through to reach the building. Smiling at his companions tone, Morlas followed her. In the ten years he had known and travvelled with her he had seen no change in her attitude towards knowledge, and he doubted he ever would.