A Desperate Race

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Maskannai

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Original poster
Pale, bloody fingers hanging limply over the edge of a cot in a dark stone room. The only sound, a muffled voice from somewhere far off giving unknown instructions in short, angry sentences. The owner of the limp hand stirs briefly and lets out a soft moan, then goes silent again, the silence that only comes when one is near death. The darkness goes quiet again and nothing is heard but the soft splash of a drop of blood.


Maskannai sits up, pulled from sleep by the horrors haunting her dreams. The elven woman has not slept well in a month, the same dream of a tortured soul lost in the depths of some darkness somewhere. She doesn't know where that somewhere might be, or who the nearly dead stranger is, she just knows that they are in desperate need of help. She also doesn't know what she can do about it, herself only a blacksmith living in a small elven village far from the heart of her people's kingdom.

"If only I knew what I could do," she whispers to herself. She swings herself to the side and puts her feet on the cold wooden floor. Leaning forward she puts her head down in her hands and tries to think in the early hours of the approaching dawn. After several hours of hard thought she decides that she must travel to the palace and report her dreams to the King. Only then will she find some revelation that will make the nightmares cease.

Once the sun is up she readies her horse, an old beast meant for hauling, but he will do for the three day ride that will take her to the palace. She saddles him and takes what provisions she needs, stopping by her friends house so that someone will know where she is headed and why. He doesn't think she should take this course of action, but his words do not sway her. As she mounts her horse the morning sunlight shines down on her white blonde hair and fair olive skin. Her forest green eyes say a farewell to her friend, then she gallops off into the forest.

Three days alter she arrives at the capital, her horse and herself both weary from the ride. She stables him and finds lodging at a decent inn, then heads to the palace to see if she can get an audience with the King. She soon discovers that the wait to see the King, no matter the emergency, is going to take several days. She is frustrated, but does not allow it to hinder her resolve. She puts her name down on the waiting list, then retires back to the inn where she will wait until the King is available to see her. That night another nightmare comes to her, but this time it is different than before.

In the darkness the pale figure groans in pain, then screams as he is tortured. No matter what tortures he is put through he never speaks. He is strapped, naked to a table of some kind, laying face down as his back is whipped, healed, and then whipped again, the cruel barbs laced with a slow, yet painful poison. His blonde hair covers most of his face, but in the dream one eye shines with strength that is slowly failing and a single tear runs down his cheek and becomes lost in the tangle of his hair.

Once the sun is up that morning Maskannai makes her way down to the common room, more determined than ever to speak with the King. She has a deep gut feeling that if this stranger is not found and rescued soon that something horrible will happen to the elven kingdom. She sits down at a side table and breakfast is brought to her by a young boy wearing an apron. He can tell that she did not sleep well, and can see in her eyes that she does not want to be disturbed, so he serves her food to her and then leaves her alone. There are other figures in the common room besides elves since the capital city sees all kinds of travellers going many places. She is so absorbed in analyzing her last nightmare that she does not realize that anyone might be watching her.
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Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

He stared at the mysterious woman at the other side of the room as she ate her meal. He couldn't care less about anyone else or their problems, but this woman in particular looked.........interesting. Smoothing back his long, white hair as it came down to the center of his back, he yawned softly. Leaning back in his chair, with his feet propped up on the table, he stood out from the rest of the people in the common room. An elf, nonetheless, but a very strange elf, indeed. Some of the people around the room whispered to each other about him as they ate. What was such a rogue-looking elf doing in a place like this? He wasn't like most elves, that was for sure. He dressed more like a lazy, war rogue. His long silver cape draping over his back, along with his large black boots that went up mid-calf. A long scar, over his left eye that went up to his forehead, disgruntled the masses. And the many knives he had that went up his torso on both sides made the rest cower in fear. His mysterious, indifferent glance made all the waiters shudder, and he could hear some of them whispering and glaring out the kitchen door at him. He was being argued over. His eery presence was not wanted here. One of the older women that had been cooking tirelessly in the kitchen in the back stepped through the gossipping waiters and towards him. Shaking his head, he laughed softly in his mind. Uh-oh. Looks like a storm's a-brewin.

The woman stopped in front of him, then eyed him up and down suspiciously. "We not want of yar kind, 'ere," she proclaimed firmly. This time, he laughed out loud. Very loud. So much, everyone in the common room, turned from their food and drink and looked over at him, curiously. The woman stood back, confused and a little aggravated at his response. She began to raise her fist and yell, but, then, the man decidely stopped his insipid laughter and raised his hand. "I am very sorry, my dear, if I've........shaken up your employees, but I come here harboring no trouble for you at all," he replied, smiling. She stood their, studying over his response, carefully, as if she were a judge in a courtroom. "..........I still don't trust ya or yar motives. Get out. Now. Or I'll send for the militia to come and snatch ya up! Ya heard! GO!" she yelled. Sighing, he got up and picked up his belongings. Everyone shuddered at the large broadsword he had swung over his back. But, then, now that he was standing up, everyone could see something. A very important thing. A silver pocket watch with the engraving of a dragon surrounded by fire and light hung from his pocket. This man was the Commander-In-Chief of the king's militia! The woman stood back in shame and horror. She had just fiercely dismissed one of the King's dearest friends! He was the mysterious man that had been gossiped over all the land for the past 6 months. One of the King's private and personal assassins turned military Commander-In-Chief! Everyone had been confused as to why such a dangerous and deadly person was given the title under the General of the Army so sudden and so soon. He had enough miltary and political power to do pretty much anything. The woman fell to her knees and began to cry solemnly.

"Oh, curses! I am ever so sorry, sir! I not know who ya were! Please forgive me! I gots 5 kids and no husband alive to help me! I can be so rude and nasty sometimes, I not even realize! Oh, do, spare me please! I won't fare well in prison and neither my children in an orphanage! Please, sir! Please!" The man looked down at the sobbing elf at his feet with pity. He then smiled and said to her, "Do not worry, madam. I have a vile and vicious past, but that doesn't mean my heart is gone. Get up and clean yourself up. I wish to do you no harm. I honor your boldness and will abide by your wishes." And with that, he picked up the rest of his belongings and started for the door after placing a small bag of coins in the woman's hand. He hadn't forgotten about the other, younger woman he had been eyeing for the last hour and whispered in her ear as he passed by her table, "I know about your dreams and I know you're having problems meeting with the King. Follow me. I can help." And he was out the door just that fast.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Maskannai is deep in thought as she spoons her food into her mouth that the sounds of commotion actually make her jump. She looks up and towards the noises, wondering what could be going on so early in the morning to be causing such a ruckus. What she sees is very interesting indeed. For some reason one of the cooks has come out of the kitchen and is yelling at a patron, a male elf, to leave, though why she is not sure other than the fact that he is intimidating looking. His appearance is rather battle worn and his weapons are worn around himself very obviously, but being an elf Maskannai can also sense the good spirit about him, something that the human cook woman wouldn't have any way of seeing or feeling. When the elf gets up and turns to go as the cook demanded she seems to see something, then falls down on her knees and begins to beg the male elf to spare her some kind of atrocity that she might suffer from offending him. As with all of their kind the elf forgives the woman and still turns to leave as was requested of him. Maskannai smiles slightly and shakes her head and the ridiculousness of it all. She has never understood how humans just can't see beyond the outward appearance that is presented to their eyes, especially since ones appearance is usually tougher than what one would have inside.

Maskannai, for example, is a beautiful elf woman, but her years as a blacksmith have hardened her appearance. There are fine lines of worry and care around her eyes, something an elf of her young age would never allow to happen. Her clothes show that she does not live in finery, but rather prefers to keep things simple and sturdy. Her hands show the most, their soft skin lined with scars from hammering metals into magnificent things.

As the male elf passes by where Maskannai is sitting to the side of the common room he stops and looks at her, something very strange indeed since she doesn't know him. He leans over and whispers in her ear, then straightens and is gone from the common room in the next breath. Maskannai is left sitting at her table, confusion written on her features. She knows that she doesn't know this elf, but he acted as if he knew something of her.

"I know about your dreams and I know you're having problems meeting with the King. Follow me. I can help." he whispered quickly as he fled the room.

Maskannai stands slowly, as if nothing could hurry her, then goes back upstairs to the room she had stayed in. She gathers her pack and her weapons, then heads back downstairs and out of the inn completely. Once outside she looks around, trying to see if she can see the elf. She finally spots him a couple of blocks down the street, standing nonchalantly as if he is waiting for nothing at all. She picks up her stride and approaches him, not sure what to say, but determined to find out how he could know about her nightmares.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Pulling one of the knives out of his handcrafted sheath he carried strapped to his torso, he propped himself up against the nearby wagon and began to carve carelessly into a piece of wood. His hands moved about carefully but all the more quickly and when he was finished with his miniature project, he held his work up to the sun to see it a little better, then smiled. The streets were crowed today. Noisy and bustling with life. But, of course, it was. It was Market Day, after all and if the streets weren't crowded, he would've found it rather surprising. He then leaned forward and looked around the streets. He didn't see "him", which was more than wonderful, and proceeded to walk a little further into sight. A lot of people that passed by whispered to each other when they caught sight of the elf. Some talked excitedly, pointing and surveying him up and down. Others nearly fell back and screamed in horror at his sight, hurrying their children along quickly through the stands. Of course, the Commander-In-Chief payed this no heed. He was used to the fear and the excitement of others when they saw him. Then, suddenly, when he looked to his right, he saw a little human boy approach him. He looked no older than 8, and wore slightly dirty, ragged clothing. He knew the boy must've worked in the stables. And, apparently, the boy knew who he was as well.

"Hidy-do, there, Mister! I hope I'm not bothering you....., but you're that man! That man that my uncles be talking 'bout when they think I ain't listenin'!" The boy smiled at him showing two missing front teeth, and, of course, all the elven man could do in response was laugh. This caught the attention of a few people nearby. At first, they payed him no attention, but when they saw the little boy standing next to him, it started an outrage. The former assassin knew this, so, made his words quick. "Yes, I very much may be the man which you speak of, but, unfortunately, it is dangerous for both you and I to speak. It's very nice to meet you, Arlen, but I think I should be on my way." He walked away swiftly, once again, and the boy's uncle quickly snatched him up, shaking him and asking him what he had said to "that freak", but the boy was too busy trying to figure out how he had known his name. He hadn't told him at all. The Commander-In-Chief walked a little ways down the block close to the Inn after looking around once again making sure that "he" wasn't around. He stood back in a safe, yet visible spot, and then waited for his real task to arrive. She was taking her time, which, of course, he didn't mind, but, hopefully, she'd come out soon. This was a lot more dangerous than she realized, but, of course, he wasn't going to tell her. He didn't want her to worry. And he definitely didn't want her running off anywhere. The female elf finally appeared out of the Inn, and came his way, and when she had approached him, he said nothing at all.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Maskannai spotted the male elf with little difficulty and approached him with no sign of fear, though there were plenty of humans about that were making it obvious that they were trying to steer clear of him. She had never understood human behavior, which was probably part of the reason that, acclaimed blacksmith she may be, she never travelled to the capital of her people's kingdom. She was acclaimed and her worksmanship was well sought after since she had been trained by a very famous smith that had since passed on and had left her to carry on his legacy.

At her side she carried a strange weapon invented by her master that appeared, at first, to be nothing more than a coiled whip. Upion closer inspection one would realize that the whip was made of interlocking links of chain and each link was also wrapped in leather. At the tip of the whip was a small scythe-like dagger with a cruel point. This weapon had an amazing reach and was very damaging when its wielder knew how to use it properly. On her back she also carried a pair of rapiers, both of which were made from a metal only herself and her master knew how to work with. Her weapons were also her treasures, created by her master before he had passed on.

"I would like to have words woth you, but out in the open is not necessarily the best of places," she said softly as she reached the male elf's side. "Is there perhaps a better place we could go to talk?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in her query. She couldn't help but notice that many humans passing around them were glancing nervously at him, then equally as nervously at her as well since she was talking to him so plainly.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

The elf stood there quietly as if no one had spoken to him at all. Looking at him, he'd almost appear deep in thought or maybe just plain cocky. Either way, he knew she had spoken to him, but didn't bother to answer at all. He looked up at the sky with some disdain, and, then, sighing softly, pulled out the wooden figure he had been carving at only minutes ago. The woman was probably confused as to why he appeared to be.......ignoring her, but his intentions were meaningful all the more. He stayed quiet for a bit longer, letting a couple people pass by before holding the wooden figure up and proceeding to speak, "Maskannai......Would this be the man of whom you've been dreaming?" Holding it up in the sun for her to see, the figure was quite remarkable to say he had only carved it less than 15 minutes ago. It was an exact replica of a dying, tortured man lying on a bed. The features of his face, body, and his wounds so beautifully detailed, yet still saddening. Looking at her sadly while he waited for her reply, he suddenly perked up. Deep in his mind he sensed something. Felt it, really. The very muscularly built elf, quickly snatched up his belongings and then pulled Maskannai fiercely behind him. He carried her through the streets quickly and not very carefully, knocking people over. Then, stopping at an empty alley, he pulled the female elf along behind him, and stopped behind a mountain of crates and boxes. Covering her mouth so that she could not speak, he peeked out from their hiding place while whispering quietly, "Do not speak or move." He allowed a very cold chill to run through both his and her body, and, at the end of the alleyway in the streets, something..........vile appeared.

It wasn't human nor elf, and it had no gender at all. It was wrapped in a black cloak with a long hood over its head. You couldn't see inside the hood, but it's blood red, piercing eyes glowed through like a firefly in the night. Moving its bony fingers and sharp claws around, it could sense someone in the alley, but apparently it wasn't really there since he felt no Elven or Human body heat. Must be a dog, is all. It seethed and hissed for a few minutes waiting to see if he could find his targets somewhere else in the crowded streets, but, still, no luck. Wailing loudly and letting out an ear aching screech, it disappeared into thin air. Although, no one had seen or heard it but the two elves hiding behind the boxes in the alley.

Sighing heavily and letting Maskannai go along with the chill, the elf relaxed his shoulders once again. "I'm terribly sorry about that. It was very ungentlemanly of me, but it had to be done........This seems to be about the safest place to talk, for now."
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

There was a man in that alley way as well, though the elves hadn't realized it yet. He was crawling on the roof-tops, and watched them for a moment with careful, curious eyes - like blue glass marbles. The young man was handsomely dressed, blue tunic, grey leggings, and a fine pair of black boots. His hair was as black as his boots, and was considerably long. He carried a sword at his side, something that was unusually large for the young man's lithe build. It had a royal crest of some kind on it, the same sort of design embroidered around the base of his tunic. There was some sort of primitive firearm at his waist as well, but to the ignorant, it was just a strange, thick stick. The young man had a stain on the front of the tunic as well, a large red cloud around a hole in both tunic and skin. He was run all the way through.

He had seen the creature. He knew its kind well enough. Demons. Nightmares. They were one and the same to him, and in his country, they were treated as the same entity. The nightmares had become so ferocious that some people in his kingdom never slept at all, out of fear, and became hollow, shaky white things with no last amount of dignity and poise. He had known demons, just as his kingdom had known nightmares - ever plagued of it, ever afraid of it. His people were less afraid of death than the nightmares, and thus, some killed themselves out of terror. This young man had not, though it looked like somebody had tried to do it for him.

He slipped off the roof with some elegance, and appeared directly behind the elves with a small padding sound on the ground from the soft soles of his boots. He walked up to the elves, not wanting to startle them or frighten them, but then again, he was a man that was clearly bleeding to death. He tapped the male elf on the shoulder, and then actually leaned on him. His legs were a bit wobbly beneath him. He should be dead because of that injury, but he wasn't. He was merely weakened. He straightened himself up, widening his stance to give himself some more stability, and managed a small half smile.

The young man ran a blood stained hand through his dark hair, "The demon will come back," he said softly. His voice was soft, and tinged with an accent that was not frequently heard in this country. The young man slumped, trying very hard to stay on his feet and not fall to his knees, "A demon never stops when its prey is so close," He coughed, and spit to the side. Blood, "It must have left for others. Or perhaps it simply tired of your company," He lifted his head and looked at the elf woman, "I have no doubt that it saw you."

The young man's legs finally gave out beneath him. He slipped to the ground with a soft thud. He smiled again, clearly not in too much pain. His body was crying out, his mind and tolerance weren't being tested yet. He extended a hand. It, like the other hand, was blood-stained, but it was a friendly gesture, "My name is Aleron," He looked to the side, not meeting the eyes of either elf, "I came from... well, I don't think it matters much anymore. A far off place. The demons and nightmares came to our lands long ago," He sighed, "I've come to destroy them."
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Looking out at the streets, instictively, the elf hadn't noticed that someone had come behind them. Startled when he was tapped on the shoulder, he quickly unsheathed his sword and turned around defensively in front of Maskannai, only to see what looked like a mortally wounded human, bleeding uncontrollably but yet somehow standing up. Mortified, he said, "Young man! Who are you? And what happened to you?" The elf didn't know whether to start swinging his sword or to help out the dying, young man. Then, he began to speak.

"The demon will come back," he said softly, "A demon never stops when its prey is so close," He coughed, and spit to the side. Blood, "It must have left for others. Or perhaps it simply tired of your company."

Then, the young man fell to the ground, and the military Commander finally ran over to help. This man was clearly not a threat at all. He was dying, and yet he still somehow worked up the strength to speak again.

"My name is Aleron," he said looking to the side, "I came from... well, I don't think it matters much anymore. A far off place. The demons and nightmares came to our lands long ago," He sighed, "I've come to destroy them."

"Silence!" the elf stated firmly, "Anymore talk out of you, and you'll be dead for sure!" Analyzing his wounds, it was clear that this wasn't any ordinary injury. In fact, he had never seen one like it before. In all the years he took part in so much death, murder, and darkness, he had never seen a wound like this one. And for once in his life, he didn't know what to really do. Looking back at Maskannai he asked, "I'm sure you've never seen anything like this before, either, hmm?" The elf sighed and rubbed his forehead. A sharp pain inching through his head. He could feel "him". All of these events of the day was becoming too much for him, and his mind was becoming vulnerable. He had to get somewhere so both him and Aleron could rest before anything..........unspeakable happened. "Alright, that's it. We're going to the castle, Maskannai! NOW! Before he and I both kill over!" Reaching down, he heaved Aleron forward, carefully throwing him over his shoulder. "Let's go!"
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Maskannai was a little annoyed that the strange male elf didn't speak when she tried to question him, but he apparently had other ideas of what needed to be done. She was so shocked with everything else that had been transpiring so far since she had made her decision to seek out the king about her dreams that the events that followed hardly shocked her further.

"But how?" she tried to ask as he showed her an exquisite wooden carving of the same elf she'd been dreaming of. She never got to finish her question though as some kind of creature, very much not human, descended towards them. She had no chance to make herself battle ready as the male elf grabbed her hand and forced her to flee with him, through twisting pathways till they finally ended up in a back alley somewhere far off from their starting point. She leaned back against a wall as he told her, "I'm terribly sorry about that. It was very ungentlemanly of me, but it had to be done........This seems to be about the safest place to talk, for now." She opened her mouth to speak, then was suddenly interrupted again when a human man dropped down into the alley behind the elf. She was not surprised at all by the speed in his step when he spun around and unsheathed his weapon, ready to attack. What did surprise her was that the young human man was covered in blood, a gaping hole in his shirt revealing a bloody wound beneath, and somehow he was still standing. He warned them of demons, his voice very serious. His strength only lasted for a few short moments, then he fell to the ground. The elf rushed to his side, sheathing his weapon, then shouldered his limp body and tuend to Maskannai.

"Alright, that's it. We're going to the castle, Maskannai! NOW! Before he and I both kill over!" Reaching down, he heaved Aleron forward, carefully throwing him over his shoulder. "Let's go!" he said to her in a very commanding voice. She obeyed without thinking, still too stunned over everything that had occurred so far. Her thoughts strayed off to the unconcious elven youth she had dreamed of, hoping they would be able to save him before his own life's candle flame burned out.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Aleron winced when he was picked up. He wasn't dying, not yet. Maybe he would begin the long, arduous process of dying in a few hours. He obediently laid on the shoulder of the elf-man, who was a stranger to him. It was odd that a stranger was taking an interest in him. Then again, he supposed a young man with gaping hole in his chest was a bit disturbing, especially when such a person appears out of nowhere, babbling about demons. He flinched a little when they started moving, feeling the hole in his chest begin to ache. He lifted his head from it's resting place on the elf man's shoulder blade when he heard the word 'castle' He lifted his torso a bit, and looked over the man's shoulder, making an expression that was a mixture between guilt, sorrow, and horror.

"You can't take me to the castle," He said, and coughed a little. His voice was thin and dry; brittle, "I'll die if you take me there. Don't..." He trailed off. He had said too much already. He was forcing himself to remain vague. He couldn't tell them. They were utter strangers. He couldn't tell them his secret. Not yet, in any case.

Aleron shook his head weakly, his black hair getting tousled. He realized that he was bleeding all over the back of the elvish male. It was strange to see that sort of waterfall of red, surreal to know that it was his blood. It seemed a crime, to sully elves with his stain; elves, who were supposed to note be touched by death. Aleron had seen far too much death lately. His hand went to the sword at his side, and clung to it, knowing that there was no danger in the sword falling out of the ornate sheath. He closed his eyes for a moment, looking peaceful, almost likely his was asleep. His frame shuddered for a moment as his mind raced with memories.

"No castle," he murmured, "No more kings and queens," He slipped out of the elf man's grasp, thin and agile enough to do so with some slight difficulty. He stood tall, and winced, putting a hand on the hole in his chest. He ran a finger across the inside of the wound and could feel that it indeed went all the way through. He took a few steps, and managed to keep his head high and remain standing, "See. I'm fine." He bit his lip, knowing that he was lying through his teeth. He felt his knees get weak, and fell to the ground once more. He had passed out.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

As he marched down the streets, Aleron in tow, people all around them, elves and humans alike, began to scream and run away in horror! Aleron was bleeding pretty much all over the elf, and everybody had assumed he had murdered someone again. The older man scoffed at this, and marched on through the now frenzied citizenry. He was getting closer and closer to the castle when all of a sudden Aleron refused to go there.

"You can't take me to the castle," He said, and coughed a little. "I'll die if you take me there. Don't..." He trailed off. "No castle," he murmured, "No more kings and queens," and then slipped out of his grasp.

The ex-Assassin shook his head as he watched the bleeding man stand up again as if he were as healthy as a horse. This isn't a shocking sight. Too proud for his own good! He just figured that Aleron must be some kind of criminal or something. Yes, the tall, brute elf had had his dabble in crime in the past, but not anymore. He definitely didn't want to get dragged into whatever crime this young man had commited, and hopefully, they could part ways quickly so he could get back to his real mission: Maskannai. The man then passed out after saying, "See. I'm fine." , and the elf, once more, bent over and carefully heaved Aleron over his shoulder. Walking again with the wounded man in tow, he had to figure out what to do. He surely couldn't lie to the king about Aleron, especially since he was covered in his blood, but he needed to find out as much as he could from Maskannai as well. Finally, he cut the corner and down a few alleys toward a crowded neighborhood. More screaming and horror from the masses, but he still marched on. Stopping suddenly at a tall house that looked a bit ragged on the outside, he began to think. Hopefully, she'll remember me. Knocking on the door, a young woman answered, and sizing him up and down she asked what in the world he wanted. "It's...." Looking back at Maskannai, the elf wondered whether or not to mention his name.

Suddenly, a middle-aged elf pushed the young girl out the way, and grabbed him, pulling him inside. "ARI!!!! Oh, how long has it been.....? Ahh...20 years? 30, maybe? Oh who cares! You're here now! Come, come! Sit, sit!" she exclaimed paying no attention to Aleron at all. I haven't been called that name in years. Studying Maskannai, she concluded, "She's a fine wife, Ari! Or betrothed, whichever! I'm glad you finally decide to settle down, you're so cold and brute all the time! I bet she softens you up!" Cutting her off quickly, Ari said, "No no, Trivelda!!! She isn't.....my wife. Or my betrothed. Or anything. Just a friend, is all. Look, I need your help!" Lifting Aleron off his shoulder and supporting him upright so the mid-wife could see the wound, Ari begged with her. "I know you're just a mid-wife, but I also know you're very good with medicine. He's dying! Can you help him? At all?" Trivelda knew better than to ask any questions, but she also knew she promised Ari that she would help him in whatever way she could if he ever came to her. Looking at the wound for a few minutes, she came up with a response quickly. "I know just what he needs! It's a rare potion with even rarer items, but he'll be as right as rain in no time! Now! Give the boy to my daughter here, and take off those bloody clothes! I'll wash them for you! No wonder everyone's screaming around outside!" The all too proud elf proceeded to disagree, but as always, the woman ignored that. She pulled off Ari's shirt, sheath, cloak, and everything til his whole top was bare, revealing some long, nasty scars up and down his torso, a few here and there on his arms, and all over his back.

It was almost hard to see him with such horrible wounds of the past, but Trivelda showed no signs of queasiness at all. She was used to seeing him so torn up. Ever since he was a child. The, turning towards Maskannai, he sighed and stated, "It looks as if I won't be able to escort you to the castle myself........But you can still go on your own, if you're willing. I'll take care of this Aleron man. You just go to the castle. At the doors, of course, there will be guards, and they will ask you what you want. Tell them you want to see a man named Lemerol. If they refuse to let you see him, keep inquiring that they do. When you see Lemerol, tell him you must see the King right away and that you were sent by the "Death In The Night". That should be all it takes." He then turned away and followed the young girl carrying Aleron to the back of the house, leaving Maskannai to decide on her own what to do next.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Maskannai was stunned when the human man named Aleron heaved himself away from the strange elf carrying him, standing up on his own as if he were helthy and exclaiming that he couldn't go to the king, then passing out again in a heap on the ground. The elf picked him up again, then trudged down the walkway, humans and elves alike screaming in horror at the sight of him all covered in blood. Maskannai concluded that she might act similarily if she wasn't a part of the scene herself, thoughy luckily she wasn't the one being pointed at. She continued to follow him until he stopped in front of a ragged looking house, then waited and watched as a female elf, a midwife by her looks, opened the door and another one joined her and they began exclaiming over the male elf's appearance, calling him Ari.

"At least I know his name now," Maskannai thought to herself as she and Ari were rushed inside and the door shut. Maskannai couldn't help her blush as the older of the elven woman exclaimed over her beign his wife or betrothed, then his own exclamations discounting this as myth. She felt very out of place in this strance place with elves and humans she didn't know, but she was still firm in the knowledge that she did need to reach the king eventually about her dreams. The two elven women flitted around Ari and began undressing him, saying that his bloodstained things would need to be washed immediately. Maskannai averted her eyes out of courtesy, not knowing if Ari would want a stranger seeing him in such a state. He approached her finally and spoke with a sigh.

"It looks as if I won't be able to escort you to the castle myself........But you can still go on your own, if you're willing. I'll take care of this Aleron man. You just go to the castle. At the doors, of course, there will be guards, and they will ask you what you want. Tell them you want to see a man named Lemerol. If they refuse to let you see him, keep inquiring that they do. When you see Lemerol, tell him you must see the King right away and that you were sent by the "Death In The Night". That should be all it takes." he said, then turned away and followed after the younger elven girl who was carrying the still unconcious Aleron. Maskannai shook her head, thanked the older elven woman, then left the house and its craziness behind. She wandered the streets for an hour or so until she found herself in front of the castle gate, two menacing guards blocking her way. She remembered what Ari had told her at that moment.

"I need to speak with Lemerol right away, it is a matter of life and death," she said commandingly. The guards looked her up and down, her disheaveled appearance helping her claim apparently as neither said anything, then one nodded and left for a few minutes. When he returned he gestured for her to follow him, which she did so gladly. He took her through two different courtyards, then handed her off to an elf that appeared the be a butler of some kind. She followed this elf until she was brought to a small study room, then left alone. She waited in the study for a while, not knowing how much actual time was passing since there were no windows, till finally the door creaked open and Lemerol entered.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Aleron was twitching and shuddering in his current state, held up by Ari's hands so that the elf woman could dress the wound. Not that Aleron had the faintest idea that that was going on, he was fast asleep in the world of dreams; passed out from blood loss and exhaustion. He knew that he was dreaming. In his country, people were trained to know when they were sleeping and when they were awake. If they knew that, they could brace themselves for the impending attack by demons, because there was no better time to strike than when a person was defenseless -- asleep. Aleron found himself in a strange world of swirling mist and swamps, feeling his booted feet sink into the mud for a moment.

He realized, after a second, that he'd been here before. He saw a shadow lurching through the swamp, something roughly man-shaped, and as it came closer, Aleron noticed that it was both the same size and shape as him. For all intents and purposes, it WAS him. It shared his glass-blue eyes and dark hair, even the heavy sword and firearm at its waist. There was something different about it though. Something strange and horrible, like the skin around its face was too small for it and stretched too tight. Its mouth opened, and out came a waterfall of black. The smell of blood was thick and heavy in the dream. Aleron bristled and backed away from it. With his shaking hands, he tried to draw the sword from its sheathe but he couldn't, no matter how hard he pulled.

It spoke then: Aleron Libon. Our Kin. Kin-Killer. Our Father. Father-Slayer. It's voice was like oil. It came closer to Aleron, and he felt it touch his face, and its fingers began to seep into his skin, until they were fused together like some perverse set of twins, Poor thing. We pity you, truly. You can't be trusted with your body. We'll just borrow it for a little while. Aleron swallowed hard, and broke away from its slippery embrace. Thiswas not just a dream, this was a memory, a recollection of all the terrible things he had done and had agreed to. The thing that looked like him grinned, and came closer, reaching out its melting hands again: It's alright, Aleron Libon. We won't hurt you. We can help you, Aleron. We can make you numb. The creature faded, and the memory was over. The marshes remained. Aleron broke down in the dream, and cried. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore, and only then did he realize that his tears were made of blood as black as his heart.

And then he woke up. He woke up in a small bed, curved in a semi-circle. He grabbed at his chest, finding a bandage over his gaping wound. He winced, pulling himself up, sitting up. He looked around, trying to figure out what had happened to both his clothes, his sword, his firearm, and his compatriots. None of these things seemed to be in plain sight. "Hello?" He called, "Is anybody around?"
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Ari stood outside the room door still without a shirt. Aleron's calling isn't what made him walk in, though.

"Hello?" He called, "Is anybody around?"

Ari slowly walked in looking around carefully as if he was looking for something. Then he started touching the walls and rubbing them, carefully trying to find something. "Hush, Aleron! I can't focus with you jabbering!" he whispered. Then, closing his eyes, he meditated, going deep into his mind, searching. He was going to try and use his mind sorcery to see Maskannai. He knew that by doing this he was risking his own sanity, but he had to do it. Going further and further, and deeper into the recesses of his mind, his body became still. He could no longer hear the noises of the outside world, nor could he feel anything, so if Aleron or anyone else in the house were trying to talk to him, it was no use. Digging down dangerously deeper, just as he suspected, "he" would try to interfere just like he always would........His subconsious was pitch black all around, so he couldn't see anything, but he could hear "his" voice..........

Aerdirnaithon.......Aerdirnaithon.........Treading through my terrority..........You're wasting your time for him.......Don't you remember?........Your mind is mines now!........Turn back!..........Or I'll break through!!!!!

Aerdirnaithon's physical body with Aleron shook violently beyond his own control as if he were having a seizure. And, of course, it scared the life out of Trivelda when she walked in, but the situation couldn't be helped. He was fighting with his own subconsious for control of his mind. It was the only way he would be able to check on Maskannai........and eavesdrop on her conversation with the king. It was not to be nosy or rude, besides....he knew Derverios better than she did, anyway. He had promised him he'd come and rescue him, wherever he was and the only way he could do that is through Maskannai.
He had told him he would channel a dream of his location through somebody.........."Ari" was getting closer and closer to controling his mind, and the closer he got, the more violently he shook in the real world. Then, he had complete control, allowing him to see Maskannai as she was sitting in a room waiting for Lemerol to come in. The only problem? While Ari was busy in the back of his mind, "he" had taken control over his body in the real world.......
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Aleron watched the strange behaviour of his compatriot with his narrow blue eyes, devoid of warmth or depth. It was unnerving to see, in fact. He sat up in bed a little more, not even wincing at what should have been a painful movement for somebody who currently possessed a gaping wound in their chest. The shaking disturbed him. It made Aleron think of old legends about possession-- in his country, people were warned that behaviour much like what his elven comrade was exhibiting was a sign that a demon was in control. His thoughts trailed off, however. What did they know about demons, really? he thought grimly to himself, People foolishly drew their own conclusions without any basis on fact. He clutched at his wound for a moment, as if a pain had struck him, down to the core. Perhaps his body had resonated, somehow, with his thoughts.

"Excuse me, but where are my clothes, and where is my sword?" His eyes narrowed, and his voice was flat, stern. Without that sword, everything was lost, pointless. Even the fact that he had murdered his family to earn it would matter very little if he couldn't reclaim it. "And where is the woman that you were with before? What has happened to her?"
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

The dark being turned Ari's body around exhibiting his now bood red eyes in attempt to scare the young man. "Ari....isn't here," it mumbled through Ari's voice. "And.....YOU...WILL.....DIE!!!!" The being made Ari pick up his sword and start lashing it at Aleron. It seethed and hissed at him in Ari's voice and moved his body over to a chair in the corner. "Rasssica....Asssseeeera.....MAAAATEEEEEA!!!!" it seethed through Ari. Ari's possesed body chanted again and again in a dark and foul language while the real Ari was elsewhere with Maskannai and Lemerol. The being lunged out of Ari's body and charged at Aleron screaming all the way.

Ari's consciousness appeared in the room beside Maskannai and nearly scared the life out of Lemerol who was about to speak with the elven woman privately. "Lemerol! I'm sorry.....It's only my conciousness. I wanted to see if Maskannai had gotten in, yet." The blonde haired man looked at "Ari" profusely then laughed leaning against a nearby table. "Don't scare me like that ever again, Ari! But, wait.....I thought it was dangerous for you to use your conciousness to be in a second place or else it----" The ex-assassin shook his head and pointed hie eyes towards the woman, gesturing for him not to go to that subject. The truth was, he wasn't. And he could only hope that Aleron was alright in the room alone with "him".
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Aleron watched the thing with horror, looking at the puppet of Ari and the red aura of the puppeteer. The horror subsided into a content smile. Aleron felt no need to get out of bed, even rested his head against the pillow again. He was not afraid. He had no reason to be afraid of a little demon, a little old spirit that had grown in Ari. He listened to the black speech and laughed. The laugh that came out did not sound like Aleron's laugh. It was sonorous and echoing, and cut through the demon's speech like a knife. Around Aleron's lithe body and narrow shoulder and blue black aura twisted and twined, like snakes or vines. The thing that could have been Aleron breathed deeply. The scent of his metallic free, demonic, nightmarish magic tinged the room.

'Ná bheith amhlaidh avfaghen, Demon beag. Ba chóir duit an eolas níos fearr ná a ionsaí do ghaoil ​​féin,' Aleron said in the black speech used by the demon. Do not be so foolish, little demon. You should know better than to attack your own kin. He switched between the infernal words and the common-tongue effortlessly, and his words seemed to drip with malice and magic. You think to kill me, now that this body is weak. It is not.

Aleron removed the bandage from his chest, revealing the gaping hole through his body. The wound was not healing, and had turned a sickly blue-purple colour around the edges. Aleron stuck his narrow wrist through and waggled it around without wincing. Do you understand, Little Demon? You may think you are clever for the possession of Aerdirnaithon, but I assure you that you are not. He was the sort of demon that was lawful by inclination, and most of his kin were. It was not hard to see that Aleron's monster was higher in the demonic hierarchy than the one that clung to Ari. Your presence is not required. You will become dormant once more, and I will rid us of these petty creatures. The girl.... is of interest to me. And to our master, Demon.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

IC:

Freya walked through the crowded streets of the town, holding the rains of the horse and walking on foot she looked around her surroundings as if searching for someone in particular, she stopped by shortly and asked a passing person about the Commander In Chief, not many knew where he was and why would they, they were all still in debate as to why he was given the position in the Militia. Freya barely cared and walked a bit further and stopped by to another passing person. She sighed and pulled a lock of her dark plum red hair behind her ear, she turned to the horse and spoke to it in a gentle caring voice, "Don't worry we'll find your owner." Just when all hope was lost, she remembered someone who could help her, Trivelda an elder elven lady who knew of Ari she hoped she could tell her where he was. Freya hated the fact she was given such a huge job and she regretted passing by the inn. Now she had to give the horse back to the lady that was seen with Ari and Freya barely knew who they were.

When Freya reached the door steps of Trivelda's place her deep crimson eyes shined with hope. Tying the reins of the horse near the house, she knocked on the door once but there seemed to be no reply, she knocked again and then the elder lady's daughter opened the door, "Hello there, is you mother home I need to speak with her its important." The girl let her in. She stood there inside and waited until Trivelda showed up, she seemed pale as if scared, had she seen a ghost or something? "Trivelda are you all right?" Freya asked worried but then her sixth sense kicked in and she pulled out her daggers, "I sense demons." She hissed, "Where are they?" Freya demanded but the elven lady wouldn't say a thing and because she couldn't tell where the demons were she couldn't just break in. But she was armed and ready, her gifted sense for demons wasn't that strong meaning they were a weaker kind or barely there.
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Lemerol cleared his voice, getting Ari's gesture, "Oh...Anyway, It's wonderful to see you again! Haha! I thought you were long gone. Went back home or something." Ari looked at his old friend and grimaced, "I have no home.......Look, this woman here needs to see the King immediately. Something's come up." "Well, you're the King's favorite! So, there's no need to ask! Right this way, ma'am." Lemerol had the guards sitting outside escort Maskannai over to the King and shut the door so he could talk with Ari privately. "What's going on? Why are you using your conciousness to speak with me?" the head of the Royal Guard asked firmly. He had always known Ari to be the type to meddle in his own business rather than anyone else, that is.....unless it involved him. Ari sighed and spoke half-heartedly, "I'd love to explain, but I have to go. There's a......."friend".......of mine where my body is and I don't want anything bad to happen." Disappearing slowly, Ari pulled himself back into his own body, oddly not having to fight his possesser again.

The Demon fell back in horror. "I am most sorry, Master. What person could be better than these two? I've possessed this man for decades! It is hard to get another......"
 
Re: A Desperate Race (anyone is welcome, but pls be serious about joining cause I don't want ppl that are gonna drop out later)

Aleron, sensing that Ari was now in the room, or at least, some part of Ari, withdrew all of his demonic features, returning once more to a small, young, man with a large hole in his chest. Nothing more, nothing less. Nobody would have been able to tell that Aleron was anything more than that, and that was how he preferred it. He a ran a hand through his dark hair, and began to think about the demon that resided in the body of Ari, whether it had understood his instructions. If only he could have made it more clear to it what he was, and what this body was about and how he had won it. It might have made things worse, however. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear his head of such thoughts.

The dark haired main smiled to what he was now Ari, "Now, I will ask you again," His voice had lost its metallic edge and its infernal aspect, "Where are my clothes, and where is my sword?" He wiggled up against the pillow, sitting up a bit, "The clothes are less important to me, due to the gaping hole in the center of them, but the sword... has a family significance.
 
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