the Rift


Raistlyn Posts: 6
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hh :: 8
Name? :: Wolf :: None roni
 After nearly a day and night of stalking her through the swampy marsh, wading through pools brimming with shadow, decay, and even the occasional nondescript corpse, the water hag had grown bolder and less cautious.   She had grown lax in her vigilance.  He would make his move soon; perhaps when the moon is obscured behind the dark clouds drifting overhead, or when the thick layer of fog fully envelopes the marsh.  

Yes, then.  He would be ready for her.

Dawn is not far off; he can see ribbons of light unfurling through the haze.  He braces himself for his attack of the water nymph, preparing to throw either throw a magic sign her way, or meet her head-on in a physical attack. From the sound of the splashing of water, she has found a place to relax, a quiet sanctuary.  It's a shame he won't have the time to bring her head as a trophy back to the Wood to receive a reward. 

He watched her, entranced.

To be honest, he was not entirely sure she was, in fact, a she, or even what manner of creature she was.  In all his expansive travels and wayward wanderings, he had never encountered such a unique specimen.  A cousin of the siren or water nymph, perhaps.  Indeed, she certainly had the beauty of her cousins; the same beauty that a deep, still pool possess: a hypnotizing, dangerous effect.  And no doubt, she must be dangerous.  He wondered if her eyes had similar powers.  With one glance, would he be drowned in a bottomless abyss? 

Despite tracking her for the past few days, he was still at battle with himself; mostly trying to discern if she was a hunting, carnivorous creature, or a peaceful, sentient being.  Helovians seemed to come in such a wide variety of appearances, it was sometimes difficult to recognize monsters from simple civilians.  If she was not some sort of ravenous, water dwelling demon, he was rather inclined to ask for directions and the certain whereabouts of a missing person.  

It was against the nature of his mutant kind to seek out the company of others, but when the situation arose, he somehow mustered enough social grace to navigate through the simpler of interactions.   Raistlyn hadn't interacted with Helovians yet; he had managed to avoid them until now.  But his Path remained uncertain and he lacked all knowledge of this place, he desperately needed answers, and the quicker he approached a resident that did not turn out to be some sort of monster, the quicker he could get those answers and find Ultima and return with her in tow to the Rift. 

If she was even in Helovia, and not worlds away, transported Elsewhere by that loathsome portal she had conjured.

The strange, beautiful creature sank into the frigid water, obviously relishing the quiet moment in the still before dawn.  In his frustration, he made a hasty decision, quite out of character for his more usual calculated and thoughtful approaches. Instead, he broke cover without the silence that usually accompanied his predatory grace; he did not wish to startle her by sneaking up while she was in a vulnerable state, and so he readily made his presence known at the edge of the water with an awkward snort to announce his presence.  He also prepared himself for a fight, if the creature did turn out to be in fact some odd variant of a horrible water hag that was intent on drowning him.

I'm trying to decide whether I should slay you,” he admitted, "Or ask you for directions."   

these scars long have yearned for your tender caress
to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.

Aquila Posts: 95
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.2 :: 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Craonos :: Common Narwhal Leviathan :: Boil smitty
the language of waves

Her patrols for the Falls, her herd but not her home, took her far to the west. She went beyond the large expanse of grass, where she had nearly slain the dagger-headed man’s precious dragon-snake. And she followed the wettest path; her course hugged any and all water that collected on the earth’s drying surface. Tallsun’s heat had done its best to dry out the soil—even leaving broad swaths of charred scars across the earth—but the woman was of the sea. Her body was attracted, almost by magic, to liquid. So her trek took her through marshes and ponds; all sadly depleted, but still wet.

And her mind was distracted in her travels—thoughts of Akvo, the coral city full of bright life—plaguing her thoughts. Only once or twice did her webbed steps halt, scaled ears swiveling to listen for some strange rustle in the shrubs around her. But her large, unblinking eyes found nothing. So she continued on, finally sinking her dried, ashen, tired body into a pond wreathed with willows.

The moment the water touched her plated, smooth skin, the warmth and vibrancy of color leapt from it. Greys became warm tans, dark ash became deep browns, and pale blue became bright aqua. A soft pulse of light came from her striped skin as she reveled in the feeling of liquid across her body—even if it was fresh rather than salt.

The ridges of neck undulated, sloshing the water between their crevasses; her veleta vizaĝo fanned in the water, splashing liquid across her face—and suddenly a snarl ripped from her throat as the willow’s limbs near the shore rustled and a snort sounded. Scaled lips to reveal sharpened teeth, fins flared and ridges raised as her stripes pulsed with warning light.

Too large eyes of aqua and yellow glare at the offender: a grey striped man covered in scars. Her assessing, warning gaze caught his size (he was larger than herself), and bulking shift of well-honed muscles beneath his striped skin. “I'm trying to decide whether I should slay you,” another, deep growl ripped from her throat at the word ‘slay’, her tail raising out of the water and vibrating, sending a warning buzz of her barbs through traveling over the water.

"Or ask you for directions.” Her tail rattling stopped, as did the undulation of her neck ridges and vibrating of her face-fins. She blinked once (a rarity), eyes leaving their assessment of his clearly well trained body to find his two-tone, azure eyes. “I have killed kalmarojotes three times your size,” her throaty voice sounded—not bragging, but merely stating a fact, “You would find it hard to slay me.” Again, her deep, husky voice was matter-of-fact as she slowly rose out of her defensive crouch in the water.

Though she remained in the deeper shallows—for her appraisal of this feral-looking, scarred man was that he was a warrior. And her battle prowess was beneath the surface. If he wanted a fight, he would have to come to her ground.

Still pinning him with her unblinking stare, she asked, “Directions where?”

veleta vizaĝo = fins of the face
kalmarojotes = giant squids

a q u i l a
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