The Dreaming: The Last Dream

[Elwen]

Life…what does it mean to be alive? You eat, dream, live, breathe, love, hate, and in the end, die. That is life, the sum total of experiences…real life may be hard, it may be rough, but it is /life/. You learn from your experiences, you learn from what you have done, and thus you /live./ You are real, you are not merely the figment of someone’s imagination. What you do will live on after you, into eternity, and will not be forgotten the moment a dreamer awakens.

 

But intermingled with the normal reality of living, flesh-and-blood beings is another world...as it were. Long ago, Dreamers existed...normal beings dream, but the Dreamers’ dreams are as beyond an ordinary dream as a queen is above a peasant woman. Often, these dreams have the form of people, who live their lives without knowing that they are, in fact, not real, but merely illusions given shape. Real people live their lives alongside these living illusions, these living dreams, without knowing that they are, in fact, not real...even, at times, fall in love with these apparitions...for they cannot be distingished from the true-born.

 

But the Dreamers have been dreaming for a long time now. They are tired...they do not want to dream anymore. But what will happen once the Dreamers awaken?

 

 

OOC: Sorry to bore you all. But this is kinda necessary as a “history” kind of background. OOC, unless you are one of the Dreamers-and please, remember that ALL of you can’t be a Dreamer-you won’t know about the Dreamers and their living dreams. Most of those “living dreams”-what few remain-have no idea that they are not real. If you would like to be a “living dream” or a Dreamer, PM me. I’ll explain further. But if you’re just “normal”, you don’t have to. And now, the end of the boring history lesson...OK, maybe not. It’ll end...eventually.

 

 

Within the crowded, smoky tavern, seemingly untouched by the noise of the people around, is a slender figure, cloaked in black. It is impossible to tell whether this person is male or female, because of their (considerable) delicate beauty, but it is obvious from the gracefully pointed ears and cat-slit, deep violet eyes that they are one of what humans term “the Bright Fey”, or the Elves. Long pale white-blond hair-silver in some lights-is tied back in an intricate braid, as the elf silently sips their drink.

 

Calonderiel Le’lorinel. The so-called “Last Dream”. It is hard to believe that such a beautiful being could never be real-truthfully, maybe /not/ so far from the truth-but Calonderiel has never been real. And he knows it. He knows his destiny. To let the Dreamers awaken...to end that which has bound them in slumber. And once the Dreamers awaken...his life will end, as easily as if he had never existed.

 

Behind his violet eyes, memories play...of the bright-eyed little girl who had been one of the Dreamers, and oddly enough, the most powerful. She of the silver laugh like bells, who had laughed while she had brought his own dreams to an end. The one who had told him it was futile to dream, for he was a dream himself. And more then merely a dream.

 

“You are more then a dream now. You have been touched by the Shadow.” she had said. “More then a dream.” she giggled. “You are the dream who will end all our dreaming at last.”

 

Calonderiel shakes himself out of his memories and stands, glaring at his half-finished cup of sake. He had absolutely no head for alcohol...but nothing nonalcoholic was worth drinking /here/, anyway. He scowled. No use waiting...he /was/ here for a reason.

 

Shouting at the top of his (not considerable lungs), and standing on top of a chair-though Calonderiel is tall, he’ll never get attention any other way-the Elf manages to get his point across.

 

“If anyone is interested, I am hiring mercenaries.” the Elf mentally curses his soft alto-that combined with his looks, NO ONE is EVER going to believe he is male-and continues. “Basically, the job is simple...enough. I am journeying to the ruined city of Everien, and while I am not helpless, I am not stupid enough to go alone, either.” he surveys the tavern, and mentally sighs. “Is anyone interested or am I just wasting my time here?”

[Jareena Faye]

OOC: If there's something to say I can't join, just tell me.

 

Truthfully speaking, I don't think much of taverns. The company isn't exactly healthy. Come to think of it, neither is the food, drink, or amount of dust. But a wandering knight can't be critical of where she finds rest. Taverns are usually the only choice, and always the cheapest one. Wandering knights aren't paid much, either.

 

"I'll go," I said readily. "I am not, by any means, a mercenary; but I have friends who are. And knights can offer an abundance of protection."

 

The slender elf, obviously male to my experienced eyes, looked at me curiously. Doubtless he hadn't seen many lady knights in his time. I narrowed my eyes and smiled faintly as if to say, It is up to you. After surveying the room, he approached my table and sat down...

[Elwen]

OOC: Sure, you can join...but please, do your best to NOT kill my character. He's got something of an attitude problem...gives new meaning to the phrase "ice princess". *sweatdrops* He certaintly looks-and sounds-like a girl...Oh, almost forgot. Please, try to keep your control of my character as limited as possible. It's kinda a pet peeve of mine.

 

Calonderiel can hardly believe his luck. It was obvious that the lady knight guessed correctly that he was male-thank the Goddess for that-and was actually interested in going all the way across the world to some forgotten city for a reason he wasn't going to tell her. "Very well, lady knight. I accept your offer."

[Jareena Faye]

OOC again!: Sure no prob! Since I don't know your character very well, I'll try my best not to make him say anything out of character, but I can't make many guarantees until it's been a few posts. But I totally know what you mean!

 

With the offer already claimed, the others in the tavern turned their attention elsewhere. I wasn't finished, however. "Not so hasty... if I am indeed going to travel with you, you must understand that I can be a difficult partner at times."

 

"Oh?" Calonderiel asked, arching a brow.

 

"Yes. First you must understand that I am very steadfast in my beliefs. If you worship any gods or practice any magic, it must be on your own time at your own risk. I believe in only the one true God, and any power from an outside source is only harmful."

 

Calonderiel's mouth tightened, and he nodded for me to go on, as if hoping there was no more.

 

"I'm also quite stubborn." I allowed a brief smile once more. "You'll have to remind me when I'm being impertinent or unfeeling. I do my best, but when I disagree with a person, I tend to leap to conclusions. And, in closing..." I leaned back in my chair. "I wouldn't mind knowing your life story."

[Damon Inferel]

OOC: Meow! I'm so happy to have an alternative relief to managing my campaign... I hope I spelled that right... Um... Thi character might seem a little famliar, but with a different name and a little more drunk to start with. Otherwise... you know him well in two realities ashke. I'll just name him Gabriel Pelous.

 

OOC: Um... I'm still trying to get basic format down, so all of my actual speech will be in quotations. My actions will be normal text, and thoughts are in italic. I need to learn that for my own RP as well because I'm a little confused because I keep changing how I type there...

 

Somewhere amidst the gambling between a few of the other drunkards in the back of the tavern, most of them orcs (if they exist, or otherwise other humans), a fairly short figure pokes his head up from the lumbering idiots. He's a little discouraged because he always wins, but they keep threatening to tear his hands off if he claims a win. Quickly, he picks up his nearly empty wine bottle and breaks it on someone else's head, and balmes it on those he's gambling with, grabs his earnings and runs towards the elf while the other table brawls his gambling comrades.

 

"Hey!" He shouts, trying to make his diminuitive figure of 5'3" known as he jumps from table to table dodging other people groping at him. "I'll go with you! It doesn't seem like too many others are willing, and you look about as frail as I do. I can be entertainment, and I'm not too bad at assassinations or combat either."

 

He runs up and leaps onto the same table as the elf and glares frantically into the guy's pretty eyes. "You have really, relly, pretty eyes." He compliments as he stomps on a massive palm before it snags his foot. He looks like an idiot, but he doesn't seem to care. Completely ignorant of the five peole approaching him, he continues. "As I said, I'll join you, but I don't think I'll be among this riot for much longer. Um..." He pauses for a second, his face has calmed down a little but still seems to be alert, and looks back at the elf's eyes. "..." After a second, he jumps away onto another table backwards, still focused on his new employer, and gracefully falls backwards onto the floor after missing the table by a foot or so.

 

"... Ouch..." He snaps awake as he notices nearly half of the tavenr is after him because he kicked most of their drinks on the ground in his jumping spree, and scrambles to his feet. He continues his shouting, now too concerned for his life to get lost in those pretty eyes he saw. "I'll be outside! I'm sorry for calling you frail, and I swear I'm much more graceful than that!" Despite his meager attempt to hide it, it is obvious he has a slight infatuation with his employer. It's not exactly the brightest thing for him to do, but he has a habit for falling for pretty guys.

 

OOC: Um... I certainly hope none of you have a problem with guys who like other guys. My character has been with enough other guys, being an elf himself, to spot the difference in Calondriel. As far as why I picked playing someone like Gabriel, I like playing people like him.

 

OOC: Um... I'm sorry to be the second person to note that you are a guy, but he'll forget every once in a while when he gets really drunk andhe'll not even p[ay attention. He is mostly the same as the guy you know, but I altered one or two things.

[Jareena Faye]

Calonderiel and I were frozen at the table for a moment, watching as the new volunteer burst out the door with ten or fifteen people on his heels. We glanced at one another with mirrored expressions, then rose to follow the crowd. Outside, in the light of the red sunset, we could plainly see Gabriel dashing about the edge of the village, chased by the angry mob.

 

"He moves very quickly," Calonderiel observed.

 

"That he does," I replied, leaning against the doorframe. I glanced at my employer. "Do you think we should do something?"

 

"Probably," the elf nodded. "What did you have in mind?"

 

I whistled shrilly, and my horse Brezza cantered into view. I jumped from the stone steps and landed squarely in the saddle. "Meet me at the mill," I grinned, and nudged my steed. With a snort, he gladly charged forward again, spirited hooves flying as we caught up with the angry crowd, then overtook them. I leaned sideways as we approached Gabriel, then plucked him up to land in the saddle behind me.

 

"Hello. My name is Jareena," I said casually as we rode away from the people.

 

"Nice to meet you," Gabriel said, eyes shining with a smile.

 

Wasn't out of character, was it?

[Elwen]

Calonderiel exited the tavern and walked down the dark alley that led away from it. He heard them coming, of course: humans were loud to an Elf, even if they had spent their lives trying to be stealthy, and couldn't sneak up on one. Nevertheless, he kept his hands deceptively far from the hilts of his swords and let them believe in their illusion. If they wanted a fight, then he would give them one. He waited until the last moment until he knew that they were almost upon him, then turned swiftly, drawing his swords in the same movement.

 

He assessed them quickly: a pair of tall, heavy human men, who had more then a hundred pounds on him, and were surely much stronger. (So...they are stronger. Fine. I am faster and experience is on my side.)

 

They shook off their surprise and charged. (Fools.) Calonderiel thought, and raised his blades. He knew the moment his sword touched the first one's blade that he hopelessly outclassed them.

 

The fight, as expected, was short and disappointing. "So." Calonderiel said, sheathing his swords, and glaring down at his fallen opponents. "What did your master tell you about me? And what were you supposed to do with me once you defeated me-that is, /if/ you had done so?"

 

"He told us we would be facing a fragile lass!" one of the men squeaked nervously. "Not some woman who could fight like the Devil Himself!"

 

Calonderiel let the fact that he was not a woman slide. It didn't matter right now, anyway. "What were you to do with me?"

 

"We were told to disable you and bring you to him!" the other one said. "That's all we know!"

 

"Who is your master?" Calonderiel asked coldly.

 

"We don't know! He was always masked and we never saw his face!" the first man said, practically wailing. "Please, have mercy!"

 

A strange, fey light came into the Elf's eyes. He had cast Second-stage Truthspell on them both, and knew without the shadow of a doubt that they had told him everything. But he also knew that they were Shadow-servants themselves...not powerful ones, but they were not unwitting, they had willingly participated in the torture and killing of innocents.

 

"Mercy?" Calonderiel repeated slowly and icily. "All those people you killed...they asked for mercy." he drew one of his swords again. "And you did not grant it. What makes you think that I will give it to you, Shadow-servants?" he paused, and the light from the afternoon sun threw his face into shadow, making him look like an angel of death. (Devaberiel...Hikari. This is for you.)

 

OOC: Ouch. My chara is /such/ a cold, ruthless...person. I'm not good at describing combat, as noticed above. But guess what he did to those people who attacked him?

[Damon Inferel]

OOC: Damn Smurfs... stuck... in... my... head?

 

"Well, hello there." The elf gazes up at the paladin who has just lifted his miniscule height from the ground to escape the angry mob. "I take it you are one of those people who 'crusades'... right? I think they call you paladins... Eh, it doesn't matter anyway."

 

The elf stands up with a strange grace stand up on the horse... and jumps. He glides gracefully through the air and as his featherlight feet touch the ground... he trips. The small elf is sent tumbling behind the horse at twenty-five miles an hour, kicking dust up all around him. ~ooowch~ he complains to himself as he stands up, his arms coated in dust and missing a small amount of skin from the elbows. Well, this certainly isn't attractive... guess i better clean up! "Hey! You, on the horse, the mill is back here!" He brushes the majority of the dust off of himself before shooting a small hole in the water tower with an arrow. The arrow fall out under the pressure and he stands under it long enough to drench himself so there is no more dirt on him. Great... now i look like a wet rat... With a few short words, he casts a mending spell on the tower and walks to the mill as the paladin approaches him.

 

"Well, now that I have properly cleaned up... somewhat, my name is Gabriel Pelous. I'm an elf, if you haven't guessed, and I can be a little reckless at times. I also happen to be a bard, and I guess I'm part of that guy's party now... and so are you. so... you're travelling with me. And I can write stories about our travels... right?"

[Jareena Faye]

"You most certainly can," I replied, glancing over my shoulder for any sign of Colondriel. "Although I hope, for my sake, that you never sing it in my home country."

 

"Aw, why not?" Gabriel asked. "I sing pretty well! And I can pull of a pretty noble bard pose, too! ... When I'm not all wet..."

 

I put my hand on his shoulder. "No doubt you can. I didn't mean to offend. But you see, my father... well, he didn't raise me, so he is not pleased with the way I turned out."

 

"He didn't want you to be a knight?"

 

Again, I smiled just a little and shook my head. The thought did not leave me with bitterness, however. It was hard to be solemn in the presence of Gabriel, which I would soon discover.

 

"Hey, here comes our boss!" he said, pointing through the faint evening light. Sure enough, Colondriel was finally approaching. The two of us asked him, in varying words, where he'd been.

 

"A pair of fools tried to kill me."

 

My eyes wandered to the sheathed sword at his side. "Something tells me they reaped what they sowed."

[Elwen]

The elf's eyes still glow with a strange, inner light...a light that isn't quite sane. Silently, he looks at his two employees. When he finally speaks, his alto voice is colder then the heart of winter's coldest frost.

 

"My terms. My life story is my own and so is my business." he says in a tone that says that he means it. "Do not ask."

 

 

OOC: I hate to sound mean and cruel, but DO NOT control my character. It is a real pet peeve of mine.

Edited April 22, 2003 by Elwen

[smallscale_mind_games]

((OOC: before I pop in here and begin my random weird roleplaying thing, I would like to make one thing PERFECTLY crystal clear. I've seen you people roleplaying the reactions of other people's characters. You WILL NOT do that with my characters. I will decide how they react, and only I will do this.

Thank you, and have a nice day!

~Merry))

 

-The miller's nephews, taking care of the mill while he was away (for whatever reason dear old Uncle Melvin goes ANYWHERE. It's not as if he ever says why.) peered out the windows at the three decidedly odd-looking figures approached. Mordekai leaned out the window, then retreated back inside, informing his twin-

"There're people coming. What should we do?"

-Cole looked up from darning his coat: when he wasn't watching the mill, he worked as a coachman-

"I dunno. Depends whether they have money, or women with them"

"One pretty elf-girl. And a...a lady knight...huh."

"So what're you waiting for? Let them in!"

-Cole ignored that he had just told his brother to let them in, and clattered noisily down the stairs, flinging the door wide-

[Elwen]

Elwen's Note: I forgot to log out, as noted by Damon under his post below, and he used the same computer and forgot to check to see exactly who was posting. So this post is actually written by him...

 

OOC: Meow!

 

 

It is obvious to the bard that the two hiding in the mill had not seen him, but he figured it was because he was nearly indistinguishable from a large rat... and still a wet one. Staying true to his reckless nature, he invites himself in and sits on a bag of flour.

 

"Hello there!" he exclaims as he pulls out a half empty bottle of wine. in what appears to be a fraction of a second, the wine is gone, and there is a new bottle in his hand.

 

"I certainly hope you can excuse me, as I tend to crawl into these things frequently. The good thing is that none of you need to worry about me getting drunk to the point where I stagger around and lok like an idiot. Alcohol is like water to me, but it tastes better! So... who are you two?"

Edited April 22, 2003 by Elwen

[Damon Inferel]

OOC: Ack! um... forgive the last post. Elwen forgot to log out, and I ended up posting under her name! Meow! Meow! I'm really sorry, i should have looked... Meow...

[smallscale_mind_games]

"Mordekai and Cole Thomas"

-Cole replied automatically-

"Mordekai is upstairs doing something bizarre to a harp. Who're you?"

"I've fixed it now"

-Mordekai retorted blandly, making his way down the stairs, far more dignified than his twin. Though it was ruined a bit by the gigantic harp that he was attempting to carry-

"So we have guests?"

-He continued-

"Shall I make some tea?"

[Elwen]

Completely against his better judgment, Calonderiel trails after Gabriel. (He reminds me of someone...) the ranger thinks. The elf gathers his cloak closer to his slender body, and pulls the hood forward to hide his head. He blinks slowly, realizing there is a source of Power within this mill-against all reason, a sorcerer lives here. Or three.

Edited April 23, 2003 by Elwen

[smallscale_mind_games]

((LYYYYYYNE-IIIIIISSHHHH! *prod* reply at that one OTHER place. Oh yesh, and phone me))

[Damon Inferel]

"Ah, sophisticates are we? Well, I suppose I could do a bit of that myself. You ask for my identity Mr... Mordekai I presume? (Forgive the possible misspelling) Well, I shall give you such pleasure." The bard regards the twins with something of a stout manner, a manner in which would imply an English sophisticate... but without the cane. As he takes his stance, he realizes he is far shorter than they are and proceeds to look up. "forgive me. I am vertically challenged, but I am one of grace, talent, and a good deal of alcohol for blood. My name is Gabriel Pelous and I am not as renown as I would prefer, but in my efforts to achieve a form of stardom I find new tales to tell and thus grant myself a great many coin. The height problem does give me a bit of trouble when you are surrounded by people approximately one and a half times your size, considering they crane their necks to look down at me as I perform. The upside to being down is that I have a straight punch to a perfect getaway! Should you not realize it, I am an elf, which is why my size is so miniscule. However, despite my frail nature and such, I can drink just as a dwarf can..."

 

The elf leaps onto a chair and sits on the edge of it, seeming to have a perfect center of balance before he begins to speak again. "You know, you tow remind me of somone i knew once. Yes, someone I was very close to... more than a brother. Come to think of it--" As Gabriale begins to flash back, he suddenly moves backwards, as the draft of the open air has caught his baggy, though quite flamboyant, shirt. He utters an elven curse and falls directly on his head, smashing through a bag of flour. He shakes himself off as he lays there, and then props himself onto one elbow. "You know, it is a little more than just demeaning to fall over into something dirty every time you try to be graceful... I'll be right back. I have to go claen up again. Might you have a washroom I can borrow... and a change of clothes?"

[smallscale_mind_games]

-Mordekai blinked and stared at the Bard for a good three minutes before replying-

"A washroom we have, but our clothes most likely won't fit, considering your height. It's clean flour...you don't need to worry about that...and if you wish, we have some scotch that you can put into your tea."

"Waste of good flour."

-Cole glares-

[Jareena Faye]

Okay, since third person is so easy... :yuiwink2:

 

 

Jareena stays at the back of the mill, arms folded, looking almost as incredulos as Cole and Mordekai--- Calondriel's face is expressionless. She is beginning to regret volunteering for this mission, which her employer still hadn't fully explained. The moment she accepted the job, a small and slightly annoying little sprite had overturned every table in the tavern, both she and he had fled the people of the tavern, and her employer had gotten into a fight he wouldn't talk about. Now they had dragged these young mill men into the mess, and no one seemed to care.

 

Needless to say, this annoyed her.

 

OOC: Please understand that the snottiness of my character does in no way reflects my own unique, admitted snottiness. (In other words, no offense.)

[smallscale_mind_games]

-Mordekai tilted his head, and strode over to the uncomfortable looking woman in the corner. He was still lugging the harp, which was nearly as large as he.-

"'scuse me ma'am, but I'd recommend leaving that corner...there's a water pipe right above your head, and in approximately two minutes, it will spurt boiling water into your face. Are you sure you don't want any tea?"

-In the meantime, Cole rises from his seat, and offers it to Calondiriel, a half-smile on his face and a peculiar light in his eyes. Obviously he has mistaken the elf for a lady.-

((no offense taken, Jareena...*cackles* Cole's gonna get slaaaappped))

[Elwen]

OOC: There is one exception to the character-controlling, and that is with regards to sensing things in the environment. *ducks thrown objects* I, as the Storyteller/DM who is in charge of the story, can make your character "sense" something, see something in the environment, have visions, etc...but I won't control your reactions to said premonitions, etc. I give you the info...it is up to you how you use it.. I'm not sure if that counts as character controlling, but it's going to be necessary...what I say as the Storyteller will be in [____]. Example: [You sense danger.] I would tell you that you sense danger-but I don't make your character's decisions for you. Hope no one gets mad. And Calonderiel has an extended flashback in this post... while IC no one else will know anything (except maybe Gabriel), it’ll give more info on the background, his history, and his motivations (i.e., who the heck Devaberiel and Hikari were). I’ll shut up now. And yes, Calonderiel is feather-light. He doesn’t eat enough. (None of my characters do…*sweatdrops*)

~Elwen

 

Calonderiel looks at the two young human boys. (Sorcerers...) the Elf thinks, realizing that they have the Power. (But not quite Awakened...on the threshold...but their power hasn't shown itself yet.) he brushes back a lock of pale hair, and notices Jareena's annoyance. He doesn't comment, well used to it...(I suppose she thinks that I'm a cold heartless bastard. Fine. If no one gets attached to me, all the better for when I die. No one will mourn me that way.) His eyes drift closed, long lashes lying on pale cheeks, as he calls on the innate Power within him...he knew perfectly well that those two Shadow-servants in the alley were only the beginning. There would be others. (And I know that they have my aura patterns…as long as I am here, they are a danger to those around me. No one else will die because of me.) Without speaking or gesturing-he had studied how to use magic without either-he begins weaving two spells, a circle of protection around the mill, and a spell that would alert him to the approach of any Shadow-servants…especially one that tried to get in.

 

[Gabriel, Cole, and Mordekai sense a little of this casting. Jareena, if your character has any supernatural ability, is at least a quarter Elven, or has been trained to sense magic, she senses it as well.]

 

The Elf’s cat-slit eyes flutter open, as he continues to hold the spells in place and pushing the energy drain to the back of his mind. (They must be safe…at all costs.) the ranger thinks, swaying a little and feeling lightheaded, despite his efforts to avoid such effects.

 

By chance, he looks in Gabriel’s direction, and gets a good look at the bard for the first time. His mouth opens in a silent gasp of surprise, and for a moment, the walls that have been shrouding his violet eyes in ice shatter. A different person, frail, lost, and oh so sad, seems to be looking out of those once cold eyes, and a sorrow so profound, deep, and aching, that one could wonder how it hasn’t killed him, fills them. (It can’t be…it can’t be…) A whispering cry of long-buried pain finds its way out from between his lips, but only one who has sharp ears can hear it, as Calonderiel is swept back into the tide of memories…

 

(FLASHBACK)

 

“You seem under the weather, Cal.” The cheerful voice of his friend startled Calonderiel out of his dark musings. “Come on, lighten up. It’s a bright, sunny day, it isn’t raining, no one’s tried to run us out of town yet…you shouldn’t be so gloomy.”

 

Calonderiel turned and looked at his best friend. Devaberiel Silverhand was standing up and he was sitting down, and because of it, their more-then-half-a-foot difference in height was almost negated and they were at eye level with each other. The bard’s cat-slit ice-blue eyes were sparkling with some hidden joke, as they always were. “Come on, Cal. Smile for once in your life. You’d be even prettier if you’d smile and look at least a /little/ happy.”

 

“Hn.” Calonderiel said: he was /never/ in the mood for smiling. His half-forgotten book was sitting on the table, but he made no move to pick it up. He didn’t feel entirely well…

 

“Another thing. You count your words like a miser counts coins. I know that silence is golden, but enough is enough!” Devaberiel threw up his hands in mock frustration. “’Hn’ is no way to carry on a conversation.”

 

The older Elf held out a wineskin. “Will you at least have a drink?”

 

“No.” Calonderiel said shortly.

 

“You are absolutely no fun.” Devaberiel crossed his arms over his chest and attempted to take a step closer, but somehow managed to trip in the process, knocking Calonderiel off the bar stool and onto the floor, pinning the ranger down with his slightly heavier weight. The blond felt his face flush when he heard what was probably half the tavern catcalling and cheering, and /really/ wanted to kill Devaberiel.

 

“What are you doing, Devaberiel?” the musical voice of his adopted older sister, Hikari Le’lorinel, was the next thing he heard. With Devaberiel-that clumsy lummox! It was like he was a human, not an Elf!-still on top of him, Calonderiel couldn’t see the other Elf, but he knew that the lady knight was there-and probably enjoying the situation. “Trying to seduce my brother? If you are, I’ll kick you from here to Everien.” The girl said mock-sternly.

 

Devaberiel hastily scrambled up. “Of course not, ma’am. It wasn’t what you think it was.” The bard said.

 

Hikari turned her best stern face on him. “Really?” If Calonderiel hadn’t been feeling so damned miserable, he would have strangled both of them. The copper-haired woman’s face turned to worry when she saw that her brother still hadn’t moved. “Cal, are you alright?”

 

Calonderiel managed at last to push himself off the floor, feeling /very/ dizzy. “Yes.” He managed between clenched teeth.

 

“You’re lying.” Hikari said, and she exchanged looks with Devaberiel. “Threshold sickness.” She said.

 

The elf crumpled back to the floor, and he knew nothing more for a long time…

 

(END FLASHBACK)

 

Calonderiel shakes himself out of the tide of memory, and the walls once more hide the fact that there was a /person/ staring out of violet eyes. (He reminds me of Devaberiel.) the Elf thought sadly, realizing the truth. Gabriel reminded him of his best friend, ten years dead.

 

His eyes widened as the sudden magical attack slammed him into the wall. He recognized this power...(That bastard!) Calonderiel tried to fight back, but despite the fact he had more power, the other was more experienced...and he was on the losing side.

 

[All of you sense the presence of a /very/ powerful Shadow-servant.]

[Damon Inferel]

OOC: I'm just starting from the point as soon as Calonderiel went into his flashback...

Gabriel glances up from the washroom and notices Calonderiel staring at him... "Um... well I appreciate it, but that's kinda creepy..." the elf says as he pulls the last sleeve over his arm. He thanks himself he was still dressed, now in the 'slightly' larger clothes of Cole's. It was as though a shadow had swallowed him, but it would have to do until he dried off, as well as his other clothes.

 

Wait a minute... you mean there was no door to the spot where I changed?! He thinks, as he realizes that he just switched clothes out in the open. By the lack of expression on Calonderiel and the basic expressions of everyone else... nobody noticed. He glances slightly to his left and notices a sign. Washroom it says, an arrow pointing up a small flight of stairs. "That's embarrassing." He comments as he blushes to himself. He goes back to noticing that the elf is still staring at him, but somehow past him at the same time.

 

In effort to follow the gaze of the seeming 'lady' he walks up beside him and looks in the same direction. A splotch of red paint is drying as far as he can tell. He tugs on the shirt, first pulling his hand through the lengthy sleeve. "Um... is it really that interesting watching paint dry?"

 

The elf's expression stays the same. (OOC:Sorry!!! meow?)

 

"Well, maybe I could at least set some background noise." Gabriel comments as he brings out his harp. "I have to be good for something. My good man," he says as he points to Cole, "I thank you for letting me steal one of your outfits and I shall take the tea. I suppose a non-alcoholic drink wouldn't kill me once in a while..."

 

The elf looks up at Calondriel, and notices he is somewhat craning his neck to look into the lost arrow slits. He sees the pipe for the boiling water and proceeds to calmly pick up Calonderiel and move him away from the soon-to-come water. "Don't want to hurt that pretty face..." He whispers to himself, somehow acknowledging that not everybody in the room was as fond of guys as he was. Well, one of them was, possibly, but it was understandable for her.

 

"And now, the harp..." There is a stroke of the harp and a flash goes through Gabriel's mind. By the way everyone, including the ice 'queen', snaps to attention, it is obvious that something is wrong. Gabriel does a little humming to himself and knows that they are about to have company. Man, is he marked by an entire kingdom? He senses a little magic coming from Calonderiel himself, but shrugs it off. Elves are attuned to magic, it's not exactly surprising. But why can I sense it? A second nonchalant chord comes through the harp and Calonderial is flung across the room. Gabriel blinks, but rushes to his feet.

 

"You know, I'm not that great with my magic, so... I'm sorry. Oh wait, it wasn't me. Well, whether you two," He exclaims, pointing to Mordekai and Cole, "are part of this mission, whatever it is, or not, you might want to defend yourselves." He pauses a second and suddenly feels stupid. He left his sword back at the bar... "Um... do you guys have a weapon I can borrow? I'm not opposed to attacking like a rabid hamster, but I don't think I'd be too useful like that..."

 

He decides it best to make his way over to Jareena, the designated knight, for supplies. As danger is impending, he realizes he is somewhat ignoring his employer, but shrugs off the guilt when he realizes he is useless without something sharp. All the while as he dashes over to Jareena he has one thought... Don't trip, don't trip. don't trip.

[smallscale_mind_games]

"Weapons?"

Cole inquires blankly, his brain brought to a temporary stop by the ugly buzzing he hears in the back of his head. A moment later it switches back on, and he rushes off somewhere, returning with an assortment of kitchen knives.

"Sorry, best I could do."

He pants, bracing himself against the table. This mental 'noise' is obviously getting to him.

Mordekai remains as calm as ever, despite having noticed both Calondiriel's slight gasp of pain, the elf's odd behavior, AND the horrid thrumming. He stashes the giant harp in a closet, and in its place holds a small silver flute, not looking in the least prepared for violence. This done, he offers a cup of tea to his distinctly ill-looking twin, who accepts it gratefully. The brothers' motto seems to be 'when in doubt, drink tea.'

Edited April 28, 2003 by smallscale_mind_games

[troubled sleep]

((=takes an insanely deep breath= Well...here I go?))

 

Char had been on the other side of the tavern when Calonderiel had stated the fact that he was hiring merenaries for some journey or another. And it hadn't been until Jareena's small speech about her character and manners before it occured to her this may be something worth looking into. But of course, the tavern being as crowded as it was, it hadn't been espeically easy getting across the room...for though the thought of just falling over everything to clear a path as the bard had done did slightly appeal to her, she had never been one to want to draw too much attention to herself. Best to do what you must, get it over with, and not make a huge fuss in the process. Of course, she had rather violated motto just by the very thought of running after this total strangers in search of more information. For yes, it did seem as though she would be running to catch up, seeing as though the entire party had exited the tavern and were halfway down to the mill by the time she reached the door. It really didn't help that the bartender decided then of all times to hound her for money to pay her tab.

 

 

A few moments later she had finally cleared the doorway of the tavern and way making her way down towards the mill, and all the while her principle plan of joining the proposed escapade deflating before her eyes. After all, two of them had been elves, and elves didn't always look towards who could claim partial ansectory in the races of both elves and men.((quarter elvish...on her father's side...it promises to be a long story...))And besides, was it really her place to go bounding off...wherever it was that these people planned to go. It occured to her then for the first time just how little she knew about all the goings on here, and she was very close to going back to the tavern and having another drink in solitude when she reached the open door of the mill. Going inside she was confronted by the sight of the two elves and the knight from before as well as two others who appeared to be humans who were balancing cups of tea in one hand and holding kitchen knives at guard in the other. Naturally, a rather bewildered and confused look found its way onto her face. It was then that odd feeling of both impending doom and sorcery hit her, which caused even more confusion and fear to enter into her facial expression.

Edited April 29, 2003 by troubled sleep

[Damon Inferel]

The bard looks suspiciously at the... *blinks* two characters at the door?

 

Well, the one who recently made her arrival (OOC: Um... I don't remember if Sam is a guy char or not...) doesn't appear to be armed, and is a little bewildered, so he might be on our side.

 

He glances back to Mordekai and Cole, who stand with their tea and... kitchen knives? "you're not used to fighting with sharp objects... are you? You know, despite the danger, if one could call it that," He reconsiders his statement as Calonderiel falls to the floor, a red spot on the back of his shirt. "...This is a wierd fight."

 

The short elf snags a kitchen knife after bounding away from the knight and tries to cast an illusion... when his pants get caught on his ankle, causing him to tumble forwards at the feet of this new adversary. In a flash, he's back on his feet, grinning stupidly as he looks at the knife in his hand. "Um... hello. How are you today?" He comments shakily as he quickly hides the knife and holds out a bottle of wine. "Drink?"

 

I hate confrontational fighting...