Post by Cillian on Dec 6, 2020 18:17:20 GMT -5
The sharp metallic crack of metal on metal reverberated through the valley. The stone-crafted monstrosity howled from anima drenched lips as its overpowering smacks had failed to break the mortal’s shield. Even more annoyingly, it had failed to break the mortal’s spirit. The juxtaposition of the young paladin made for an interesting sight as the holy radiance of the Light reflected off his dark, foreboding armor as if the one of the very statues of the Ember Ward had awoken, not due to the influx of blood-red anima, but rather, due to the Naaru blessed light… the only bastion of Light in all of Revendreth.
He stood defiant, sweat dripping down his cheek, chest heaving from the strain of a long battle, but through it all, a small smirk rested on his lips. A grin to further taunt the gargoyle. Two of it’s venthyr masters laid as charred-ash imprints of their former immortal selves. Victims to the Light renewed by the Naaru Z’rali, a punishment harsher than their tried and true methods of yore.
With a flap of it’s webbed wings, the gargoyle took flight, scooping air as it climbed higher and higher. Cillian had known what the monster intended to do, and attempted to scorch it with a few quick prayers. Little effect. This beast would only be stopped if it were smashed to rubble. It spoke in an otherworldly demonic tongue that was foreign to Cillian’s ears, but he could read the frustrated taunts all the same. It dove at him, spear clutched to strike.
A slight twist of his foot to shift his weight, a raising of his shield, and a very well memorized prayer softly spoken through his clenched teeth were all he could do to prepare for the coming impact. A lone blue eye peeked from behind the shield wall as the spearhead fell closer and closer… and yet closer still until… Another burst of Light erupted from just in front of his shield as his shield arm flung forward in a perfect parry. The stone-laden gargoyle jerked as his spear flung away from its intended target, his other arm covering his eyes from the harsh brightness.
Another step, another swing, and Cillian’s mace had met the beast’s chest. It chipped a chunk from its body, anima seeping from the fresh crack. Another howl, this one more pained than the last.
Cillian had heard the thundering hooves while the monster had not. He knew it meant a sinrunner’s carriage. A common sight along main roads in Revendreth, though much less common where he now fought this beast. With the drumming stampede came an idea to the fair-skinned paladin.
The road wasn’t far. All he had to do was keep the thing grounded until the carriage drove past--nothing stopped those carriages after all--with their perfectly trained and powerful steeds at the helm.
A grunt welcomed another swing of his mace, this blow being barely deflected by the brute’s spear. Cillian didn’t stop. Swing after swing caused the gargoyle to step back, clawed foot by clawed foot. He had almost worked it back to the road, but then, its wings began to flap.
The opportunity wouldn’t be missed. Tossing his shield, Cillian leapt onto the gargoyle. The shock on its horror of a face was enough to know that Cillian’s gambit had worked. The beast immediately froze just long enough its wings to second guess their flapping. Muttering another prayer Cillian shoved the pommel of his mace into the beast's eye, dark, blood-red anima gushing from the stone pupil. Another roar of pain. A strained peek down the road revealed the thundering carriage had arrived sooner than anticipated.
Quickly, Cillian pushed himself off the beast, as it threw a few blind swipes at him from flesh-rending claws. He landed with a thud and had just enough time to get his head up as the carriage crashed into the gargoyle. The latter erupting into an explosion of anima as the former continued to ride, seemingly unaffected.
The blast had launched Cillian back, off the side of the roadway further down the valley…
Some time had passed before he awoke. Pulled back to consciousness by an ethereal tongue, just enough of it’s ghostly saliva somehow registering to Cillian’s senses. He was startled and splashed around in the creek he had seemingly landed in. Scurrying to dry land he flipped on his butt, and searched desperately in the darkness for whatever had stirred him from his concussion-based slumber. Surely he hadn’t been hallucinating?
Sharp inhales and exhales to support his thumping heart and the soft rustling of the water from the stream were all he heard, in the otherwise dark and silent part of the gulch. Strained eyes darted back and forth trying to find what he -knew- was out there. He wasn’t alone and he hadn’t a clue where his weapon was.
Slowly a red mist gathered enough to form, just a rough outline of… a horse? It solidified slightly more, and became clear enough to tell that it was fixated on Cillian. He swallowed with a gulp and leaned in to get a closer look at the apparition. Ian found himself reaching for it, pulled by some sense of wanting… a sense that was not his own. Before he knew it he was standing in the stream again, hand lightly petting the steed’s misty mane. Despite its lack of shape, Cillian knew it was staring at him with wanting.
Ian started to feel an odd calming sensation as he ran his hand through the spectral hairs of the beast. It made an echo-y neigh as it seemed to enjoy the attention.
“A sinrunner…? Alone..?” He hardly mumbled to himself.
Reaching in one of his pouches he produced a biscuit, a leftover bit from lunch he had earlier and held it in his palm… he had known ghosts to do weirder things... The horse immediately moved to sniff the cracker in his hand. It quickly made the decision to snatch it up. Chewing it gleefully as the broken bit of biscuit fell into the stream below. Despite not actually eating the food, this was of course a ghost, it began to feel a bit warmer. It neighed again, in what could have only been approval.
Then, quicker than it had arrived, it vanished. Leaving Cillian dumbfounded in the knee-deep stream. He blinked and mauled over what he had just experienced. One thought clung to the back of his mind, and that was to return to this place the next night, just to see if a pattern had emerged. Something common with spirits of those who had not had a pleasant journey to the underworld.
And so he did return the next night. And the night after that, and so on. Each night the ghostly steed reappeared, each night, it seemed to remember Cillian. The young paladin eventually began to bring different items. Common horse caring items, new shoes, clean water, a brush, and even a saddle, and each night it accepted one of the gifts. A bond was being formed and Cillian had little idea what it meant.
On the sixth night of his visit something different had happened. The horse was seemingly already formed and appeared to be waiting on Cillian. Usually it was the other way around. He approached it, and the horse neighed and shook with excitement. Cillian couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips.
The horse lowered its head, and begged for the man to mount it. Unsure if he’d just fall straight through, he patted it’s swirling red back and his hand felt the sturdiness of the beast. Only slightly reassured Ian agreed.
“Okay! Okay… hold yourself. I don’t know what sort of spooky hocus pocus you’re dealing at… lemme get my leg over…” He spoke to the horse and it seemed to approve of his voice.
“Whooa!” Escaped Cillian as his butt settled onto the ghostly steed’s back, and to his shock, he didn’t fall through. In fact the horse felt strong. It felt right.
Before he could even adjust himself to get comfortable, the horse took off, running down the stream, splashing water with each hoof fall. A spectral reign appeared in Ian’s hands and he grabbed onto it tightly. His fear eventually faded and a toothy grin appeared on his face as the fast beast took him all throughout the valley, adhering to any command or recommendation Cillian deemed to make.
Their ride lasted for hours, the steed clearly, did not tire, but Cillian had.
He reigned it in, and brought it back to the location they first met. He climbed down and ran his fingers through the misty hair again.
“Good Girl. Such an odd thing you are…” He said.
It nestled its snout into Cillian’s other hand and closed its eyes. The red mist around its form swirling and condensing. Eventually gathering into the palm of his hand. It had solidified, into a small, blood-red crystal.
“Perplexing…” He mumbled as he studied the crystal.
He held it up and looked at it through the moonlight, rubbing his thumb against it gently... The stone dissipated as it reacted to his thumb and the red mist had again taken the shape of the steed. It reared and gave a rowdy neigh of approval.
“Well… I’ll be. You want to come with me? By my steed then?” He asked with a toothy grin.
It made another squeal of approval.
“Hm. A spooky steed… not without your tricks… Hocus Pocus. That’s your name, eh?” He hopped on the steeds back. “Let’s not waste time then.”
He kicked his feet into Hocus Pocus’s side and off it went. Carrying the paladin further into the depths of Revendreth, and beyond.
He stood defiant, sweat dripping down his cheek, chest heaving from the strain of a long battle, but through it all, a small smirk rested on his lips. A grin to further taunt the gargoyle. Two of it’s venthyr masters laid as charred-ash imprints of their former immortal selves. Victims to the Light renewed by the Naaru Z’rali, a punishment harsher than their tried and true methods of yore.
With a flap of it’s webbed wings, the gargoyle took flight, scooping air as it climbed higher and higher. Cillian had known what the monster intended to do, and attempted to scorch it with a few quick prayers. Little effect. This beast would only be stopped if it were smashed to rubble. It spoke in an otherworldly demonic tongue that was foreign to Cillian’s ears, but he could read the frustrated taunts all the same. It dove at him, spear clutched to strike.
A slight twist of his foot to shift his weight, a raising of his shield, and a very well memorized prayer softly spoken through his clenched teeth were all he could do to prepare for the coming impact. A lone blue eye peeked from behind the shield wall as the spearhead fell closer and closer… and yet closer still until… Another burst of Light erupted from just in front of his shield as his shield arm flung forward in a perfect parry. The stone-laden gargoyle jerked as his spear flung away from its intended target, his other arm covering his eyes from the harsh brightness.
Another step, another swing, and Cillian’s mace had met the beast’s chest. It chipped a chunk from its body, anima seeping from the fresh crack. Another howl, this one more pained than the last.
Cillian had heard the thundering hooves while the monster had not. He knew it meant a sinrunner’s carriage. A common sight along main roads in Revendreth, though much less common where he now fought this beast. With the drumming stampede came an idea to the fair-skinned paladin.
The road wasn’t far. All he had to do was keep the thing grounded until the carriage drove past--nothing stopped those carriages after all--with their perfectly trained and powerful steeds at the helm.
A grunt welcomed another swing of his mace, this blow being barely deflected by the brute’s spear. Cillian didn’t stop. Swing after swing caused the gargoyle to step back, clawed foot by clawed foot. He had almost worked it back to the road, but then, its wings began to flap.
The opportunity wouldn’t be missed. Tossing his shield, Cillian leapt onto the gargoyle. The shock on its horror of a face was enough to know that Cillian’s gambit had worked. The beast immediately froze just long enough its wings to second guess their flapping. Muttering another prayer Cillian shoved the pommel of his mace into the beast's eye, dark, blood-red anima gushing from the stone pupil. Another roar of pain. A strained peek down the road revealed the thundering carriage had arrived sooner than anticipated.
Quickly, Cillian pushed himself off the beast, as it threw a few blind swipes at him from flesh-rending claws. He landed with a thud and had just enough time to get his head up as the carriage crashed into the gargoyle. The latter erupting into an explosion of anima as the former continued to ride, seemingly unaffected.
The blast had launched Cillian back, off the side of the roadway further down the valley…
Some time had passed before he awoke. Pulled back to consciousness by an ethereal tongue, just enough of it’s ghostly saliva somehow registering to Cillian’s senses. He was startled and splashed around in the creek he had seemingly landed in. Scurrying to dry land he flipped on his butt, and searched desperately in the darkness for whatever had stirred him from his concussion-based slumber. Surely he hadn’t been hallucinating?
Sharp inhales and exhales to support his thumping heart and the soft rustling of the water from the stream were all he heard, in the otherwise dark and silent part of the gulch. Strained eyes darted back and forth trying to find what he -knew- was out there. He wasn’t alone and he hadn’t a clue where his weapon was.
Slowly a red mist gathered enough to form, just a rough outline of… a horse? It solidified slightly more, and became clear enough to tell that it was fixated on Cillian. He swallowed with a gulp and leaned in to get a closer look at the apparition. Ian found himself reaching for it, pulled by some sense of wanting… a sense that was not his own. Before he knew it he was standing in the stream again, hand lightly petting the steed’s misty mane. Despite its lack of shape, Cillian knew it was staring at him with wanting.
Ian started to feel an odd calming sensation as he ran his hand through the spectral hairs of the beast. It made an echo-y neigh as it seemed to enjoy the attention.
“A sinrunner…? Alone..?” He hardly mumbled to himself.
Reaching in one of his pouches he produced a biscuit, a leftover bit from lunch he had earlier and held it in his palm… he had known ghosts to do weirder things... The horse immediately moved to sniff the cracker in his hand. It quickly made the decision to snatch it up. Chewing it gleefully as the broken bit of biscuit fell into the stream below. Despite not actually eating the food, this was of course a ghost, it began to feel a bit warmer. It neighed again, in what could have only been approval.
Then, quicker than it had arrived, it vanished. Leaving Cillian dumbfounded in the knee-deep stream. He blinked and mauled over what he had just experienced. One thought clung to the back of his mind, and that was to return to this place the next night, just to see if a pattern had emerged. Something common with spirits of those who had not had a pleasant journey to the underworld.
And so he did return the next night. And the night after that, and so on. Each night the ghostly steed reappeared, each night, it seemed to remember Cillian. The young paladin eventually began to bring different items. Common horse caring items, new shoes, clean water, a brush, and even a saddle, and each night it accepted one of the gifts. A bond was being formed and Cillian had little idea what it meant.
On the sixth night of his visit something different had happened. The horse was seemingly already formed and appeared to be waiting on Cillian. Usually it was the other way around. He approached it, and the horse neighed and shook with excitement. Cillian couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips.
The horse lowered its head, and begged for the man to mount it. Unsure if he’d just fall straight through, he patted it’s swirling red back and his hand felt the sturdiness of the beast. Only slightly reassured Ian agreed.
“Okay! Okay… hold yourself. I don’t know what sort of spooky hocus pocus you’re dealing at… lemme get my leg over…” He spoke to the horse and it seemed to approve of his voice.
“Whooa!” Escaped Cillian as his butt settled onto the ghostly steed’s back, and to his shock, he didn’t fall through. In fact the horse felt strong. It felt right.
Before he could even adjust himself to get comfortable, the horse took off, running down the stream, splashing water with each hoof fall. A spectral reign appeared in Ian’s hands and he grabbed onto it tightly. His fear eventually faded and a toothy grin appeared on his face as the fast beast took him all throughout the valley, adhering to any command or recommendation Cillian deemed to make.
Their ride lasted for hours, the steed clearly, did not tire, but Cillian had.
He reigned it in, and brought it back to the location they first met. He climbed down and ran his fingers through the misty hair again.
“Good Girl. Such an odd thing you are…” He said.
It nestled its snout into Cillian’s other hand and closed its eyes. The red mist around its form swirling and condensing. Eventually gathering into the palm of his hand. It had solidified, into a small, blood-red crystal.
“Perplexing…” He mumbled as he studied the crystal.
He held it up and looked at it through the moonlight, rubbing his thumb against it gently... The stone dissipated as it reacted to his thumb and the red mist had again taken the shape of the steed. It reared and gave a rowdy neigh of approval.
“Well… I’ll be. You want to come with me? By my steed then?” He asked with a toothy grin.
It made another squeal of approval.
“Hm. A spooky steed… not without your tricks… Hocus Pocus. That’s your name, eh?” He hopped on the steeds back. “Let’s not waste time then.”
He kicked his feet into Hocus Pocus’s side and off it went. Carrying the paladin further into the depths of Revendreth, and beyond.
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Founded April 26, 2005