On His Own

[Tyrial]

"There is no one now... I am alone, completly.." Tyrial thought to himself as he continued to trudge along the mountain trail. As he reached the last high point of the trail before it's long descent down to the forest below he'd turn to look back at his home. The village was small from here.. but still visable. A deep breathe as he summoned his courage.. "Jason... Lloyd.. I wish you were here with me.." he thought just before turning and taking the first of many steps down the twisted trail. The young Osten warrior was brave, but had been surrounded by his family his entire life, expecially his two brothers, Jason and Lloyd. Now as he set out on his journey for the Osten Capital to join it's military ranks he was doing so alone, for it was tradition for one leaving his home village.

Refusing to look back even one more time Tyrial's mind stewed with thoughts on his future, how he would stand up next to other Osten soldiers, if he would even be accepted into their ranks. The mere thought of rejection caused a shiver to run up his spine, his village held their honor and pride close when it came to the Osten military, and he would not be the first to be rejected. His own footsteps and breathing began to form a patern in his head as he tried not to think on how long the trip was, and focus primarily on his task once he arrived.

His hands gripped the leather belt that crossed his chest, which secured his father's sword tightly across his back. He was born into greatness, or so his father would have him believe. Memories of his father's voice rang through his head as he continued to navigate the trail "My Son... you are blessed, your birthright to greatness is clear for all to see, have faith in your own destiny my son.." His father was refering to his wings ofcourse, which marked him as blessed. He was the first in over two hundred years to be born with such in his village. Shaking away the pressure of such a thing Tyrial let his mind grow blank, concentrating on nothing but the dirt and rock beneith his feet.

Finally nightfall would come, a fire was made and a meal was cooked, Tyrial sat nearby with a full belly.. holding his fathers sword free of it's sheath. The moonlight gleaming off it caused the young Osten's determination to grow. "One day... this sword will run red with the blood of Tallomous scum... I swear it!" he'd quietly promise himself. Resheathing the blade he'd settle down for the night.

[Asila]

A strange young woman, accompanied only by a cougar with red-tinted fur, traced a thin deer trail upward through the foot of the mountains. It seemed an odd place for her to be, when there were no villages close by. However, she traveled everywhere sooner or later, and the mountain range was no exception.

Her clothing, which may have been a bright shade of green at one time, had faded to a dull, moss color. The pack she always carried with her, slung casually across her shoulder, was tattered and worn. Her long hair was not badly tangled, though it was windswept. To summarize her appearance, she looked ruffled and worn by days of travel. This was nothing new, for long days of travel were her norm. She seldom remained anywhere beyond the length of one night.

Should you ask her why, she may tell you that she was a clairvoyant and the local poltergeists would throw a fit if she lingered for too long. Or she may gesture at the sky and tell you that the full moon is approaching, and she didn't want to be near the village when she transformed into a were-parrot, since she would then wreak havoc among the local orchards by plundering the trees of their fruit, and everyone knew that stealing was bad. Or..., well, she could go on in this fashion for quite some time. There were far more lies to be made than truths to be told, after all.

As she paced through the trees with the panther at her side, she began to sing a string of nonsense, for no other purpose than to amuse herself. Her voice carried a haunting melody, soaring and diving as dictated by the notes that she had, like the lyrics, pieced together on a whim.

If days are light
and nights are dark
then what of stars,
and moon above?
Are they not light
within the dark?
There is no blackness
where light leaves it's mark.

There was no set rhythm or rhyme to her stanza's, only the words as they passed through her mind. Why worry of such things when there was no one around to listen? However, it soon became apparent that she was not alone amongst the thinning trees. Ahead was the orange glow of a campfire, a beacon that spoke of another being just beyond the last cluster of stunted trees. She let the last note trail off and drifted in the direction of the fire.

She stepped into the open, caught sight of what appeared to be a young man who just happened to have large white wings, and spoke to the cougar in a cheerful tone that was at odds with the words spoken. "Careful, Sparrow. You know better than to approach a stranger." She smiled at nothing in particular, as though amused by this, and continued in a line that would lead her just past the fire and further up the mountain. Such figments of her imagination never spoke back to her, so there was no point in remaining here any longer. She had never met a real person with wings.

[Tyrial]

"The air.... is so cold..... so... cold.." the young Osten thought as he sat there upon his hands and knees atop the snowy peaks, gasping for air, the breathes he took were like flamming daggers. He could hear him now, he was coming, looking up his near frozen grey-blue hair danced infront of his vision due to the winds. There he was, charging right for him, he had to do something or he was finished, letting his gaze fall to his hands burried in snow he'd attempt to clinch his right fist as he pulled it from the snow.. "Good...." he thought as he saw his sword come up with his hand, he had to check.. his whole body was numb.

Straining he'd force his legs into movement, it was all one step at a time at this point. Forcing himself to stand he'd barely be able to stay awake.. it was so cold. "We're not going to lie to you Tyrial.. you might die up here... and if it's my sword that brings you such a fate.. then FINE! I wont have my little brother being killed by a Tallomous scum! You'll leave these peaks a warrior... OR YOU WONT LEAVE AT ALL!!" That's what his brother Jason had told him when he began his training on these forsaken peaks. He always was too serious.. but it was Jason that was going to end his life if he didn't fight back. He was so close now, he had moments.. mere moments to react. He could see his brothers blade slicing though the icey air..

A sharp gasp as he woke, his wings wrapped around him defensively. "It was only a dream..." he mumbled with a sigh before he let his wings unfold and sat up. Setting his father's blade to the side for a moment he'd let his hands run over his face.. it was then he'd hear it.. the haunting melody that danced upon the still air. "Am I still dreaming?" He thought, pushing himself to stand he'd remain still as he focused on the sound. Accepting the possibility of another in these wilds he quickly grabbed his fathers blade, tossing it over him and securing it upon his back he'd stop again as he tried to locate the direction it was coming from. "This way.." he'd mumble to himself, it lead back toward his village, but it was close, he wouldn't have to back track too far.

Following that haunting sound as he ran back up the trail he wasn't sure why he was so determined to find the person responsible. Perhaps he simply needed to see another person, he didn't ponder it much as his athletic form navigated the rocky landscape. After a short time he'd cut the corner of a rather large boulder and see her there, walking away from him.. the sound of that melody seemed infinetly clearer as he layed his eyes on her. Now he wasn't sure what to do, he could see she was about to fall out of sight again.. without thinking he'd simply shout out to her.. "Wait! Miss!"

[Asila]

Aileen paused, a faint expression of confusion crossing her features. Now, who could be speaking to her? There were no other people in the forest at this late hour. She must be hearing things.

She turned, her gaze landing immediately on the winged man who had hailed her. She let her vision unfocus, then focus again, trying to see if he'd disappear. It was usually a sure way to see through an illusion. However, he didn't fade. She frowned slightly. It seemed as though the figments of her imagination had just gained a substantial amount of substance. They could even speak to her now! How interesting...

Well, when your hallucinations started speaking to you, you might as well respond. It would make for an interesting conversation.

"Well, hello person of the imaginary persuasion. How are you on this fine evening?" Her voice, as always, was light with amusement and good humor. If you had to be a crazy person, you might as well be an optimistic one.

Then again, she wasn't really crazy. She had simply convinced herself that this was the case, and she was perfectly fine with the idea. A true crazy person believed themselves to be sane in a world where no one listened. Aileen thought she was insane, and therefor no one need listen. It was a very subtle difference, but an important one.

For example, an insane person would probably see a winged man and grovel at his feet, sobbing something about being 'blessed' or 'saved'. However, she was simply amused at the expense of her own 'insanity', since she beleived the young man to be a walking, talking illusion, and engaged him in conversation. Neither behavior would make much sense to someone of stable mentality, but there was a clear difference between the two reactions.

As for why she had decided one day that she was crazy...well, even she couldn't tell you. She thought that all was fiction now.

The cougar that she had formerly addressed as 'Sparrow' paused when she did, glancing over his shoulder. The creature was not threatened by the presence of the Osten man for it could sense no violence in the air. The cat simply sat down and stared back at the direction they had been traveling in before the distraction, as though patiently waiting to resume their journey.

[Tyrial]

Taking a moment to respond Tyrial would let his eyes study the girl before him, he was raised to be trusting, but not stupid. As she spoke his eyes would narrow a bit at what she'd called him. He had never met a person outside of his own village, and wasn't sure if this was a normal encounter or not. Deciding to just mind his manors and be as trusting as he could this time he'd make his way over to her.

A polite bow to her then he looked to her companion, bowing to him aswell. "Hello miss, I come form a village atop these mountains.." A sigh as he wasn't really sure what to say next.. he was simply eager to meet someone outside of his own village.

[Rojo]

((Hello new person! I was wondering if I could join in this RP...I want to make a new character. *Rolls his eyes at Asila* one that is from this world.))

[Tyrial]

(Ofcourse that would be just fine! Sorry for the late response, look forward too your post.)

[Rojo]

Avon looked down at the hole he had been digging for three days. So far, nothing had cropped up. He had hoped among these ruins he would find an Osten relic, but he had had no such luck.

If anyone had asked, he would have told them he was here on official buisness, but he doubted any Ostens from the nearby village would really care that he had a permit.

His tent was simple, and candlelight was radiating through it faintly, giving off an orange glow. He sighed and picked up his shovel. It looked like it would rain soon. This could have good and bad effects. The good effect was that it might crop up something buried, the bad thing was the rain might wash away some of his handiwork, meaning he would have to dig twice as much the next day.

The college had only given him a week to find something, five of those days were already up. He lowered himself into the hole cautiosly, taking a ladder down with him incase he couldn't get out the next time he tried.

He thrust the shovel into the dirt, flicking out a mound of earth. He hit something hard, and his eyes lit up. But as he uncovered more, it turned out to be a block of stone. But where the stone had been, a large hole now had appeared. Avon raised an eyebrow. He clambered out of the pit and went into his tent to fetch a lantern.

Lantern in hand, he let himself down from a ledge into the darkness. It appeared to be a corridor of some sort. He looked at the wall: it was old and crumbling, but looked rather like the ruins above. He assumed he was within what was left of the fort.

Avon cautiosly walked down the passage, coming to a left turn. He heard something scrabble behind him, and turned, light spilled onto blank floor space. He blinked several times before taking the turn and coming into a wide room. There was a pedstal in the middle. There was nothing on it, he found on closer inspection. But on the floor nearby was a small object of some kind.

Avon walked over and picked it up delicately. It was a sort of thin cylinder, made or stone. In the middle it changed from stone to some purple gem, probably amethyst, but you could never be sure in this job. He pulled out a piece of silk and wrapped the thing up. He then put it in a safe, tight compartment in his pack, and turned to leave. But someone- or something -was blocking his way. He held his torch up, and it looked to be an Osten, but it had wings, and had parts of its torso missing. He recoiled to the wall in repulsion and fear.

The Osten-zombie screamed. Avon took the chance and ran, punching, aiming for the face of the thing. It dodged, but it gave Avon the chance to run past, back down the corridor. He came to his ladder, but he heared the thing's foot falls fast behind him.

Each breath Avon took was like someone force-feeding him flaming water. He scrabbled up the ladder, and he felt the monster grab his foot. He kicked out and burst through the hole. He clambered out of the pit with suprising speed and ran into the forest, paying no attention to direction.

The young man turned onto a winding path and ran along it. He felt things look at him, birds caw and fly away, then he saw camp fire light up ahead. He made a B-line for it and hurtled into the clearing. He jumped over the fire and dived behind a tree.

He couldn't really care less about how bemused the occupant or occupants of the camp could be right now, he just wanted to put as much distance between him and that zombie. He shuddered.

[Asila]

((*glares* What are you saying, Rojo? Do you have a problem with crazy people? Shame on you! ( ) Well, at least I like my demented character. Nothing is real to her; she behaves as though she just happens to be having a very lengthy dream and is waiting to wake up. It's fascinating, don't you think?
P.S. That was one hell of a post, Rojo! Honestly, how you come up with this stuff, I will never know...))

Aileen watched the winged man bow to her and Sparrow, genuinely fascinated now. No one ever bowed to her, let alone the cougar. What an interesting hallucination he was! Honestly, why did people even bother to fear going crazy? It was much more fun than being sane.

She only continued to smile at him in a wistful, slightly vacant way as he spoke. "You're from the mountain village?" She frowned slightly, remembering the legends that she had heard. "So that's why you have wings!" She looked back up the mountain, pondering this. For a moment it seemed as though she had finally accepted the fact that the young man was real, and not a figment of her imagination. Then she began to speak again, and the illusion was spoiled. "Hmmm...since I am only imagining you, and I definately am, for everyone know's I've lost my mind, then your village must be imaginary too, right?" She looked back at him with a grin, as though proud of her less than logical deduction.

However, she did not get a chance to say anything more, for at that moment two things happened at once. Sparrow tensed and turned to face the forest behind Tyrial with a warning snarl just as a man burst free of the woods that the panther now faced.

Aileen raised an eyebrow at this, her smile never faltering. "What marvels could my subconcious have created for my entertainment now? This is turning out to be the most remarkable evening!" She placed a hand on the red cougar's head, the faint frown returning to her countenance as she realized that the cougar was still staring into the woods from which the man had run. His snarls were growing louder and he seemed very tense, as though expecting an attack.

She stepped forward and reached for the young man's arm. "You might want to step away from the woods. I think that man was running away from something." Her voice was noticeably less cheerful than it had been before, though still unafraid. Sparrow was the only creature in this world that was real to her, so such behavior on his part tended to put her on her gaurd. If it weren't for her tendency to think that there was never any real danger, her actions now would have been far more urgent.

And so, since she was very sure that everything would be just fine, she calmly led the 'figment of her imagination' toward the tree that the newcomer had sheltered himself behind. Sparrow slowly paced after them, halting more often than not to snarl his warning at whatever creature was coming for them now.

[Tyrial]

Closing the distance between him and this stranger he'd hear her immediately comment on his wings, something his family told him to expect and get used to. Nodding with a light smile he'd agree with her observation.. 'Yes I do.." he'd say warmly, and as she mentioned a mountain village he'd nod once again, turning to look up the mountain for a moment, his own way of acknowledging her assumption.

A slightly dissapointed smile was given as the girl's words let on to the fact she was quite crazy. Tyrial was indeed hoping to meet someone sane outside his village, he knew not all outsiders were crazy due to stories his brothers had told him. Deciding insane company was still company all the same he'd extend a hand for her to shake in greeting as he spoke his name.. "This illusion's name is Tyrial LeCroix m'lady, and you are?" Just as this greeting was given however the man would burst from the treeline and rather gracefully roll near the fading fire.

Turning in response to the sudden addition of people he'd instinctively bend at the knees, a hand moving for Saint Vengeur's hilt. Feeling it's cold metal in his hand comforted him as he waited to see if this newcomer be hostile or friendly. But his attention would again be snagged by the girl as she placed her hand on his arm. Looking to her he'd hear her words of warning and nod, his vision moving to match her own upon the treeline. He was quite the warrior, but had never seen combat outside his brother's training, which was more then intense at times.

Seeing the girl then begin to walk toward the trees but not removing her hand he'd naturally begin to walk with her, his hand's grip on his blade's hilt a constant. He gulped hard but would try not to let it show, he knew he was ready for anything these woods could throw at him, or atleast believed as such. But the threat of real combat for the first time after sixty plus years of training was a bit nerve wracking. Each time her companion, Sparrow would snarl, his whole body would tense up a bit.

Now fully on edge he'd continue to walk side by side with the girl, he was almost wishing this threat to be real, a chance to truely do some good with all his training.. but at the same time a degree of fear was present, which he was doing his best to subdue. Taking a deep breathe he'd get ahold of his nervousness and be at full alert along side the girl, a close eye and ear on Sparrow for it seemed his senses were quite developed and would spot any danger before either of them.

[Rojo]

Avon covered his ears and rocked back and forth. He yelped in surprise as the other two came close. He mistook Tyrial for the zombie he had seen and jumped a foot in the air. He took a look at the cat-like beast by the woman. He had never seen one before.

The Archeaologist's eyes flickered around, searching for the creature. But when it didn't come, he relaxed ever so slightly. He wasn't sure if it had even clambered out of the hole. Maybe, as he had left the ladder there. When he thought back to his campsite, his face drained of colour. His journal was there, with all his notes! The head archeaologist would kill him if he returned without his notes. They were one of the most important things in the job.

He didn't care about the mindless zombie anymore, he was terrified of the thought of his boss.
Avon ran past Tyrial and Aileen. He drew his dagger from his belt, holding it inexpertly as he charged noisily through the shrub. He thought at one point something grabbed for him, but he ignored it and kept on running towards the campsite.

It began to rain. It pattered on the ground and made it hard to see. Avon turned around, his glasses covered in the stuff. He stumbled, unsure of his direction, and slipped over a log. His spectacles flew off and he hit the ground face-first, unable to see a thing. He still clenched the weapon desperatly, and with his spare hand he felt in the mud, looking for his glasses.

Avon heard something that made his skin go rigid. Something moaned. He turned onto his back, and saw a blurred figure standing over him; a figure with wings.

He rolled as a fist dug into the ground beside him, but another came quick as an arrow, sharp nails digging into his arm.
Avon wasn't a hero. A hero would have quickly brought up his hand with the dagger in it and atabbed the thing. But he wasn't a hero. So he lay there, waiting for the thing to pull out his heart pr whatever these disgusting undead did.

((If no-one saves him, I'm gonna be sad.))

[Tyrial]

The young Osten had barely been away from his village a full day when all this excitment had found him. He couldn't help it, he was enjoying this danger, this nervousness he felt. It was during the realization of this that the young man that had so urgently rolled away from the trees he and Aileen were now cautiously entering burst past them once again. He would see Sparrow growl as the man went running into the trees, that coupled with this unexplainable nagging feeling told him that was a most unwise decision on his part. "It's now or never Tyrial.." he told himself as he quickly pulled Saint Vengeur from it's scabbard.

"We must go after him!!" Tyrial would say urgently as he pulled free of Aileen's warm hand. Those wings of his tucked in close as he began to run through the brush, manuevering it the best he could. His sword held infront of him at all times. It was then he felt the unique feeling of cool rain upon his warm skin. His eyes unintentionally narrowed as he came to a quick stop. Tilting his head he'd attempt to listen more carefully for he thought he'd heard something. Picking up on the sounds of a struggle not far infront of him he'd take off into the dark brush once again.

Topping a small hill he knew the struggle to be just over the top, seeing one standing and the other upon the ground he'd see the moonlight reflect off a pair of glasses he was sure belonged to the man that had ran back into the trees so urgently. The standing form appeared to have a set of wings, this was stunning to the young Osten as he knew how rare he himself was. It was during the mix of all of these observations he'd notice the standing, winged figure had his hand burried in the man's arm, and he would then hear his scream. Seeing the creature move to pull his other hand back he knew he had mere moments to react if he was going to save him.

It was dark, the moonlight was apparent, but feint. He wasn't able to make the figures out well, but went on what his gut instinct told him aswell as what he could summarize from what he saw in a mere moment. Leaping from the small hill those wings of his would unfold allowing him to glide down just above the ground, bringing him rather swiftly to the two beings. Holding his father's sword back with both hands he'd let his training take over, fear and nervousness seemed to all but completly fade away. As he would pass the creature a powerful slash was given to it's mid section, the Osten would then spin toward it and deliver another slash as he then fully passed. Letting his sword slip into one hand his feet would touch ground, quickly sliding to a stop. As he did so his now free hand shot forward as he commanded the winds to do his bidding, blowing the creature back and off it's feet, away from the injured man.

Once the creature was away from the man Tyrial's eyes would shine with a inner light as he concentrated, calling a ferocious bolt of white lightning from the already storming skies above, a blind flash later the Osten would take in the shadow drenched figure lying on the ground. He wasn't completly sure if he'd killed him or her, or whatever it was, but the smell of charred flesh hit his nostrils suddenly, and his assumption would grow to a finality that he was willing to settle on.

Making for the man still upon the ground, he'd lean down and pick his glasses up from the forest floor as he closed the short distance. Holding them out he'd allow the man to reclaim what was his as he inquired to his health.. "Are you ok Sir?"

((I hope I did not do anything concerning the elements that is not allowed, if so please let me know and I'll alter future RP thanks!))

[Asila]

She had smiled at his introduction, answering as they walked back toward the campfire. "Nice to meet you, Tryial! I'm Aileen. Aileen Sage." He is very polite, she thought to herself, oblivious to the trace amounts of dissapointment in his gaze. I like him. He is far more pleasant than the people that usually manifest around me. In fact, the last had been a group of five men from an isolated village who'd been determined to kill her for witchcraft. Apparently, five of their sheep had died of an unknown ailment and they had believed her to be the cause. This was ridiculous, of course. The animals had died over a period of two weeks, and she'd only just been passing through. But she was an outsider, and a very peculiar one at that, and such people loved to make up nonsense.

Only luck had gotten her out of that one. A bear had ambled up to them before the men had taken their oppurtunity to harm her. Of course, the animal had been young and was simply curious, having not yet learned to fear humans. The men, however, had started shouting about witchcraft, and her 'army of familiars', and had taken off toward the village. It had been such an odd event. She had thought that she'd hallucinated that one as well.

She was just glad that neither Tyrial or the new individual seemed intent on harming her. Of course, the newcomer seemed to be concerned with something else at the moment...

As though to confirm her assumption, the young man chose that moment to bolt once more. Sparrow gave a surprised growl, instinctively moving further away from the guy as he passed. The poor thing was very puzzled over the strange man's behavior. First he runs, then he charges...

Aileen only frowned as the cougar looked on doubtfully. "He shouldn't have done that," She murmured to herself as Tyrial pulled away from her to go after him. "There's something in the trees..." Something in her gaze receded, the blissful distance fading, soon to be replaced by something more alert. She blinked, and stared for a second at the point in the trees through which both men had dissappeared.

"Wait!" She called out, even though it was now too late for either one of them to hear her. She had to help. She didn't understand why she felt she must. She had believed for so long that everything would just fall into place, so why was she so desperate to reach them now? It seemed that, for the first time in more years than her distracted mind could keep track of, she actually thought something bad was about to happen.

She ran as quickly as she could, but it had begun to rain and visibilty was poor. She held up her arms to protect her face from the thin branches that lashed at her. Sparrow, having darted after her, gave a small snarl and bit into her faded pants in an attempt to hinder her but she ignored him. She had to see what was wrong. She didn't like this feeling, the one most knew as fear. She had to find it's source so that she could fix it.

It seemed as though a small eternity had passed and that she must have lost the others when a blinding streak of light decended from a short way off to her right. She veered toward it, but it was not as close as it had seemed. By the time she reached the others, she was gasping.

"What happened?" She gasped, looking from the two men, to the thing they had charred, and back again.

[Rojo]

Avon clenched up his eyes, still waiting for death. But then he heard the sound of lightning, and the claw release his hand. He lay there for a moment, not moving, just listening to his own breathing, still not opening his eyes for fear of what he might see. He stood up and looked at Tyrial. He yelped and jumped back, thinking he was another of those zombie things. But then he saw that the young Osten was holding out his spectacles.

"Oh, thank you" he said, taking them gingerly and putting them on his nose. This didn't improve his vision much, but at least it saved him the time of having to buy a new pair. He took one look at the charred corpse before looking away in disgust and repulsion. The smell was unbearable. Burnt flesh combined with rot.

It was not until now that Avon began to notice the pain in his arm. He looked at the four wounds in it. The man felt himself inadvertantly shaking, with cold, pain, and fear. What was this person going to do to him? He had heard...things about what the Osten did to interlopers.

"Umm, I really have to get back to my tent. My notes are in there, and I think I may need medical attention, which I have supplies for back at previously mentioned tent." He had a nice voice, it was calm. It was the sort of voice that always asked your permission before getting a cookie, or always tucked you in at night.

Avon noticed the woman come into the clearing, and he gave a short wave
"Oh, quite alright. I have a tent nearby, if you and your friend are cold, young lady" he said, making sure to be polite. It didn't kill one to show one had good manners.

[BrokenMirror]

People. In HIS ruins. Unimaginable. Matris looked down at them from up the hill, trying to discern them as friend or foe. The one who'd been attacked by that pesky zombie seemed badly hurt. They'd managed to kill the nuisance at least. Matris could never even FIND the damned thing.
"Maybe I should introduce myself to these visitors," he said alouded, straightening quickly. He placed a hand on his sword and made his way down towards them, walking tall to make himself clear and visible.
"Good evening." he said in a low voice as he approached