[[ SIZE VARIES :: I have been known to type nooooovels if inspired, which is ... not that often. I can also only type a few paragraphs if that's all you're feeding me. D:< ]]Erinae:
The animals to their side would twitter and stomp their hooves, this being the only sound that would echo along the vacant streets that they stood in. All about them, there were was seemed to be houses and shops, constructed out of stone, one on top of the other in side the triangle. A civilization with in a pyramid; Erinae desperately wanted to let go of Dalphinius and look around, though she was far too afraid now. His light only acted as a torch to some of the area, but many dark corners and rooms loomed around every turn, she knew nothing of what foul beasts may lurk in the shadows.
They'd already had enough trouble today, and as she'd turn back to the wizard with a heavy sigh, her eyes twitched, searching for his in the glow of the fire, "No .. I haven't. We don't have as much time till nightfall and .. I'm so tired, Dalphinius,
" the mercenary whimpered, having used the last bit of her strength to drive her blade into that awful worm. The elements of this place were killing Erinae slowly, and she knew that if she were to survive, she'd have to eat and drink more than she had been to retain her abilities, or else she'd be worthless to the Runemaster. Her body had not been under this sort of trial for a very long time, as experienced as the sell-sword was, she could only take so much, "Maybe .. maybe we could stay here for a full day and recover. The animals are spooked and I'm on the verge of collapsing
Arms squeezed tighter to the wizard as she'd admit her own weakness, not feeling well enough to do anything more. Slipping the leather bag from her broad, slightly trembling shoulders, she'd sneak away to one of the doorways, a tattered piece of material floating about the opening, looking at if it was once an intricate pattern, though now the cloth was faded and worn. His fire barely illuminated the area in side, but in the dim light she was able to see that it was empty for the most part, and ancient stone table being constructed in the wall, a few, ancient items resting on it still. Erinae was curious, as any one would be, but she was in no mood to inspect.
Even if they did have to endure a sandworm and the loss of one of their mounts, Erinae couldn't be thankful enough that the inside of the triangle was cold and unpopulated ... dark, even. It'd make resting easier for her, moving to the doorway, her fingers reaching for Daphinius's wrist as she'd tug him inside the room, holding onto his afterwards, "Do what you must .. but I'll be sleeping in here. If I'm to get this tired again, I won't be able to fight,
" her lips met the wizard's tenderly, as she didn't want to part from him, no matter what the reasons may be. Chuckling gently, she'd let go of him with an air of hesitance, her digits grazing on his wrists as she added, "or lay with you.
+ + +Anastasia:
One would've thought it strange to see a cloaked woman floating around in the shadows, though swiftly, her metallic gray eyes would follow the nearly invisible wolf as he was hunched, sauntering about the city. It wasn't often that the likes of these beasts were seen in the streets of London; the cobblestone alleyways usually being the home of pallid, bloodsucking vampires. She had little interest in the accursed undead, though these horrific, monstrous canines peeked her curiosity, but still, humans knew very little about their kind.
How ever, they were dangerous, and that was all that mattered.
He would've been a subject for peaceful observation, that was, until the ebon-clad human noticed what he was after. A young woman had been sitting beneath one of the flickering street lamps, reading idly upon a cold bench. It would appear that she was waiting for some one, for surely no one would pass time out in the streets at night -- only a few of the surrounding houses' lights shining through the windows. She was a foolish girl, and she would've paid for it with her life if the mysterious woman wasn't lurking between two townhouses.
Thick black locks were tied elegantly back, the large waves in the strands being contained by a purple ribbon, only a few stray pieces of hair falling down her rounded cheeks. She may have appeared some what beautiful if she had been groomed properly, but now, she was dirty from days of tracking, mud and dust clinging to her dark garments, though unnoticeable in the shadows in which she stalked, her narrowed eyes, which had dark circles forming under them, watched as the bear-like beast would encroach upon the young female.
Oh, the lass was quite the pretty one too, her golden hairs braided behind her elegantly, even if her clothing seemed a bit shabby. A lovely girl with no money; it was a common sight in the city and no one really cared any more. Eventually she would grow to be of age to work, then probably thrown into some sort of of brothel (the only place young girls become useful) or worse, a mind numbing marriage with a man she devotes all her loyalty to. Which ever, her fate was sealed as the wolf had pawed his way closer to her oblivious form.
Slowly, not making more than the sound of a gentle rustle in the blowing wind, the olive-skinned woman in black began to slide sleek, metallic bullets into her revolver. An intricately detailed, almost feminine-looking gun would rest on either hip, the holsters buckled down to her thick leather belt. It all made her job easier, in the end, with a small pouch of "special" bullets being tied to the belt, just waiting for her fingers to slip inside and withdraw the most efficient weapon against a filthy werewolf to ever be known to man. They'd always render the creature useless for a few hours, if the aim of the hunter wasn't fatal, that is.
If he was powerful enough, had enough will, perhaps he would survive her keen eye, the left lid squinting closed while she'd aim for his shoulder, her gray orbs still attempting to pinpoint his shape with in the shadows of a building. He seemed to be so close to the innocent fool, and as much as this sharp-shooting woman would like to see the careless suffer for their lack of common sense ... she couldn't allow it, her conscience weighing too heavily on her shoulders.
The tip of her finger smoothed over the cold trigger of her revolver, feeling the chilled metal that had been so neglected the past few days, but the hunter not been finding any true reason to utilize her weapons as of late. Now, things were finally beginning to change. After weeks and weeks of no success, not even a single local rumor from a superstitious merchant, Anastasia had seen no signs of wolves prowling around, terrorizing citizens. Why, she was about to leave London and travel back down to the Mediterranean, yet it seemed like her luck finally was taking a turn for the better.
Pressing down on the trigger, her lips curled upwards in a grin, a loud pop ringing, echoing about the brick of the surrounding buildings. A gleaming, white object flew towards the monster, though Anastasia couldn't be sure if she'd hit him yet, no sound being heard for a few moments after the shot had been fired. It seemed as if the whole world stood still, waiting for one of the two to utter a word.
Slender fingers rested on a forehead, an illusion. Normally horns would protrude from her skull, ivory beasts that curled around her cranium in an almost ornate fashion; usually decorated with treasures from centuries past. She was an indulgent one, it would become clear.
Now she looked almost normal, an old gown clung to her body, discolored from all that time being locked away in a tiny little crystal. A prison, she was stuck inside a cell and forgotten, but now she had been rescued by a power hungry mortal that obviously hadn't grown to appreciate her yet, only the strength she was able to give him. Those weapons ... crafted with her demands in mind, blades that were made for her and her alone. Fools stole them, only to meet their doom in her corridors below the surface. It was ironic ... that he had seen such tools of destruction and thought them to give him might; though she knew different.
Envious green eyes flickered when he defied her, yet she did nothing about it. Not now. She needed to get out of here, off of this wretched place that kept her hidden; looking to the gray sky while he had his fun with the local brutes. Stupid people, wastes of life and flesh; they'd be better off serving as her minions, yet their mental capacity didn't allow them to process such a gracious offer.
"You are only wasting time,
" she said, bitterness coating her irritated voice. The wind blew past, sending thick brown curls into the air, whipping past her face. If he did not hurry soon, did not take her away from this isle, she would grow angry. Even the smallest degree of her temper would make the Earth quiver, her eyes turning dark while arms crossed each other. Warmth. She needed warmth, demons loathed just standing in snow. A useless investment of precious moments, she'd rather fly to his ship than walk through the hideous forests that surrounded them once more; a trip she'd made several times before.
She always managed to get caught again, though. Ikarah was never skilled when it came to keeping her self restrained for long.Ikarah II:
The region of her skull that had been struck by the wall was throbbing, the pain resonating through her head in agonizing waves. Groaning as she felt him search through her hair, the demoness allowed her concentration to fail, revealing her true, naked, gold-covered form.
Ikarah had been weakened, though Zek's touch allowed her to quickly tap into his aura, pushing past his spiritual barriers with ease and sucking the life from his veins. Those golden eyes seemed to glow as she did so, a hand quickly seizing his arm as he'd surely be stunned by such a sudden, parasitic act. Growling as she gazed upon him, Ikarah once more covered herself with her mystic veil of illusion after a loud, impatient knock pounded against the old wooden door.
Quickly, her demonic appearance was concealed with something a thousand times more terrible; a beast now waited in the room, covered in an intricate display of black and silver scales, the lighter of the colors developing an ancient pattern over the large body of the dragon. Those curled horns remained around her skull, becoming rather useful as she bashed her head against the cold stone, immediately creating an explosion with the creaking wooden door and a large portion of the wall.
Who ever had been waiting at the door would've surely been dead, though Ikarah didn't care, her talons gripping tightly to Zek's clothing as she forced herself through yet another wall, obliterating the stone as if it were made of dirt. No recognizable structure remained in this portion of the church now, the large form of a dragoness protruding from the enormous gap within the building like some sort of mountainous grotesque. Her wings flared to the sky as dust and debris quickly began to cloud the air, rays of sunlight blaring through the webbing of her wings and the fog of dust.
The citizens below didn't quite know whether to run and scream or flock and stare as the black beast that was destroying the church began roaring shrilly from the middle of the city. Beating her wings powerfully against the frigid gusts, Ikarah hoisted herself into the air with Zek in hand, her talons digging through the cloth of his tunic, keeping him secured in her grasp.
With in a matter of moments, there were large groups of armored men assembling on the ground below, some holding onto intricate, wooden rifles while others loaded their crossbows. As the dragoness began to make her way towards the abandoned villa, arrows and hot, iron bullets started to whip through the sky, whistling past her face as she glided gracefully over the stone buildings and weathered castles, making her way to the dark trees of the surrounding forest.
The city was held between pristine summits and the vast, turquoise ocean, woodlands littering several areas between the countryside and the actual city; this is where Ikarah would go, to stage the awful truth that a dragon loomed nearby. Her plan, however, was hindered by an arrow piercing the thick membrane of her left wing. The razored edge managed to hit a softer spot near the base of her shoulder, causing an incredible amount of pain as the winds began to blow her towards the ground.
Hissing angrily, Ikarah was forced to fold the large, ebon wings around her and her captive, feeling gravity take hold of her body, spinning it freely in the sky before it began to crash and break about thick branches of ancient trees. It seemed like forever until she actually hit the ground, laying limply on the forest floor, her digits barely able to clutch onto Zek's top as she twitched in agony, a deep groan leaving her throat as agitated dirt rose up and into the air around the dragon.
Iros seemed slightly uneasy the entire day. If it wasn't because of the random, severe shocks of pain running along her injured leg, it would be the glares she received from locals and pirates alike. The Captain had a reputation, many ports knew her name and the chaos that came along with it.
Though the Eidjan .. they truly didn't give a damn. As long as Iros had coin to spend on spirits, they'd allow her and her gang of mischief magnets into their establishments without a question. Greedy beasts; the Captain often hired the likes of these scaled-men simply because they were useful and rather strong. Manpower is always essential when navigating in the relentless winds of the northern skies.
Sadly, they were quick-witted and harder to manipulate than normal men, so Iros was unable to use them like she did so many of her crew members; she had to actually pay them what they asked for, which always made her hang her head with hesitance. In all honesty, Iros was probably greedier than most of these inebriated Eidjans, one of her hands settled on her hip, holding her coin purse close to her body, "Damnit, seventeen?! I though it was less than that .."
Hissing as she tore herself away from the small group, Iros quickly leaned against the counter, staring to the scaled beast that stood behind it. They were not hideous creatures, at least, if anything just an abnormal version of a humanoid; their bodies were built in a similar manner, covered with colored scales that varied from Eidja to Eidja, though usually a dark green or blue shade, along with a thick tail that sprouted from the base of the spine and two, straight horns poking from their skulls. Their eyes were like that of a serpents, though the facial structure didn't differ much other than the large fangs hanging over the bottom lip. And oh, they were vicious when provoked, though their appearance would urge any sort of opposition to flee with just a glance.
Iros didn't care, tapping her fingers on the counter restlessly, "I need an ale," she huffed, a few coins being pushed towards the reptilian man before she let out a long, burdened sigh, "and would you hurry!"
The barkeep frowned at being ordered around by this woman, who was obviously some sort of crazed outlaw. Yet, money was money and she offered him silver coins .. he really didn't want to refuse such an offer. Grinning wryly, he filled a heavy glass mug with a golden liquid before setting it in front of Iros, who was still glaring at him impatiently, "An' what brings 'ou here?"
"Crewmembers." the pirate stated flatly before tipping the mug back and taking a deep swig from it. The mug was almost half-emptied when she set it back onto the counter with a loud bang, looking behind her to see if Fredrick and Irving were still close by. It seems they didn't move much, and so the Captain decided it wouldn't be best to go limping back to the nagging Doctor with a large mug of ale.
Shrugging briefly, she finished her drink with ease while the tingling, painful sensation in her leg began to return. Walking back to the group, Iros studied a few of the local talent; her eyes darted from drunkard to drunkard, man to beast and then back again, hoping to find someone of potential interest. Perhaps there were many qualified sailors in here, though it was so hard to tell when ale was being poured all around.
Growling, she moved closer to Fredrick, a visible pain taking hold of her, "This is nonsense .. watch, I'll solve everything."
And with that, she grabbed a tall stool from under a table, crawling up and on top of it so she towered over the crowd. Immediately, everyone's eyes shifted over to the crazed woman who waved her arms in the air for a few moments, "Hey, listen up you crooks!" she began, obviously captivating all of their attention by insulting them first, "We need seventeen sailors to help man our ship .. The Ophelia hunts treasure and we guarantee to pay generously; we're docked and want to hire new sets of hands, so hurry the fuck up."
Plopping down from the stool, Iros kicked the chair back beneath a table and walked past Fredrick, but not before tapping Irving on the shoulder, "Don't scare them all off, please."
The hills would've been beautiful, had the air not carried the thick, acrid scent of rot. There was no scene of gore and blood in the area, all of it having been washed away in storms that had passed .. yet some where, off in the distance, there was a poorly constructed, mass grave of soldiers. Bodies had been piled a atop one another and covered in a thin layer of soil, and as the mercenary walked on the worn pathway with an elegantly scaled creature, she could not help but to hold her leather-clad hands to her nose, her senses assaulted by the disgusting odor. The dragon to her side snorted every now and again, a light cloud of smoke shooting from his nostrils as he shook his head in irritation, growling.
She hoped, desperately, that the town that she'd be resting in was far enough from the grave to avoid being plagued like this, groaning to the beast that sauntered about in front of her, "This is unbearable,
" and with that, the woman's hands quickly took hold of her cloak, ripping a thick strip of fabric from the side and tying it around the bottom portion of her face in an attempt to stifle the smell, sighing into the fabric, "we need to hurry, it's almost sunset.
At least two hours had passed before the two of them managed to walk through a makeshift wooden archway, the name of the town etched into a large slab of oak and nailed to the top, dimly illuminated by the waning moon. Scoffing, she pulled the material from her face and took a gentle sniff at the air; the reeking stench being very faint, and much less overpowering than it had been in the valleys. Sighing happily, she pointed to the dense trees that surrounded the populated area, her bright blue eyes falling upon her large, scaled companion, "Hide for a bit, I'll call you when I can.
The world of commoners didn't much care for the sight of threatening beasts in their cities and towns, the mere likes of these creatures made most people tremble in terror. Nodding his silver, shimmering head, his almost glowing yellow eyes shut as he turned from her, slinking up a trunk and disappearing among the dark netting of branches. With her dragon safely hidden, the mercenary began to walk into the small streets of the town, searching for the center of it all.
It would've been charming and quaint, had the burnt remains of a few buildings not been left to decay out in the open, though luckily, the tavern had been untouched by violence. The dark brown boots that covered her feet were muddied with soil and grass, kicking up dust as she'd trudge along to the thick oak doors of the drunkard's establishment, examining the inside briefly before she'd slip through the archway, shuffling towards the dimly lit bar.
A dark gray cloak hung down her broad shoulders, even touching upon the ground while she sat upon a stool, her fingers tapping in boredom upon the counter. The barkeep, a husky, middle-aged man who was drying a few mugs peered over to her, his small eyes immediately being attracted to the ample bosom of the mercenary, a substantial amount of her olive toned flesh was exposed by her feminine tunic and the mounds of her chest were pressed against one another as she'd lean forward, quirking a brow "Can I get an ale, 'Keep?
Thick, black strands fell from her head, tumbling down over the left side of her rounded face when she'd hunch towards the counter, thick arms crossing and settling onto the finely polished wood. Nodding nervously, the man would draw a large mug filled with a rich gold liquid, sliding it to the traveler, "'Ere ya' go, Ma'am.
"Thank you, sir.
" the gruff woman muttered before taking a long sip from the cup before her, glancing about the tavern once she had set the thick glass back onto the counter. There was no true reason to be here, other than to relax, the mercenary temporarily throwing her mission aside, soothing her aching muscles away with spirits as the barkeep would eagerly await her voice, to tell him to bring her more.