Iwaku: Misera

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Zen, Aug 9, 2013.

  1. My innocence burns painfully within me. I've pleaded, begged and screamed it, but everyone listened to Melody. The bitch convinced everyone that I knew what I was doing, what she was doing and I didn't care. Not even my standing as an apprenticed monk helped my case. And now as I sit in this cold dungeon, I quietly await my execution.

    Heavy footsteps echo through the stone hallway, accompanied by the jingle of keys. I was told that the dungeons have started to become crowded and Queen Diana sent an order for mass executions and Exiles. I have not seen the faces of these criminals, nor do I wish to. I don't belong here, I belong on the road.

    I blink back tears as the footsteps come closer to my cell. The keys jingle louder and I hear the lock on my cell clink. My throat tightens as the door is pushed open and a man comes in to place shackles on my hands. He has a black hood over his face.

    "I'm innocent," I whisper, helplessly.

    But he says nothing and leads me down the hallway and into an empty room with one window and a chair propped up against the wall. The man instructs me to sit and wait. He leaves through another wooden door, blinding me as the sun enters all too briefly. It is somewhat comforting to know that I will be leaving this world when the sun is high in the sky.

    They've left me my robe and my prayer beads, which I rub through my fingers in prayer. I am shaking and my words come out in between sobs. The man returns shortly and when he opens the door again I hear people, lots of them. They are talking in hushed tones, but as the man leads me outside to the sun, their voices crescendo.

    They are like animals.

    There is a raised wooden platform that he takes me to. All eyes are on me and I can see the monks from my monastery. They are sitting upon the dirt, prayer beads in hand but their lips are not moving. They stare at me with such strong conviction that I know they believe in my innocence.

    The man forces me on my hands and knees, with my head resting on a bloodied block. Two men arrive carrying a steel case. Everyone knows what it is inside, even me. It is the Ban Hammer. And they remove the lid and the hooded man - my executioner - takes hold of the great weapon. The crowd suddenly enters a frenzy and my ears are deafened by the noise.

    I see my executioner's shadow on the ground before me, see him lift the Ban Hammer over my head. I see the monks that make up my family fight to get to me but are held back by Iwaku guards. Their agony only amplifies my own and my eyes well up with tears. Faintly I hear someone proclaim my crimes and I mutter to myself, to God, that I am innocent. I smell the blood of previous criminals and innocent citizens, taste the tears that enter my mouth and hear the primitive cries of the people.

    And the executioner's shadow moves, I glimpse the Ban Hammer fall and realize that I no longer exist.
    #1 Zen, Aug 9, 2013
    Last edited: Aug 9, 2013
    • Like Like x 1
  2. (*whistle* Nice)

    My chains clinked in rhythm with the guard's footsteps as he closed in on my cell. I gave a faint smile, which bubbled up into a harsh laugh. Oh, how I could still see it! The look on her majesty's face when I on and on about how I crushed a man's skull in my hand, while using the other to reach for his wife. How I ripped apart that village with my bare claws, leaving no survivors! Ha! The man stopped outside of my cell, turned the key, and opened the door. My hands were encased in steel cuffs to keep me from escaping; my feet shackled loosely.

    The guard reached forward and grabbed the long chain that he would use to drag me outside, where the roaring masses waited to see my blood spill in a crazed frenzy. And they called me a demon. Speaking of blood, I can still smell it on me. I was allowed a bath before seeing the queen, but I don't think it did much. I can still feel it, too. I was pulled out of my cell and marched down the rows of other cells; to my death and my execution.

    The sunlight burned my red eyes, and it took a second for me to focus on the screaming crowd. What happened next is a bit of a blur. I was on the platform, and I snapped at one of the guards to make him jump. Hehe, yeah. Then.....the block.....and the smell of many layers of old...and new blood. And then.....death, I guess? I wasn't paying attention. I was just thinking about how there was no way I'd be going to the same place as Seri.
  3. The wails of the convicted echoed through the halls people begging, pleading for mercy. Chains rattling as the other prisoners thrashed and screamed unable to come to grips with the fact that today was their last. I looked down at my own shackles and smiled, it wasn't that I was happy or being cocky. It was just funny how quickly things changed, two days ago I would have never thought I'd end up in this place, well not any time soon. I can still see Jonathon's face, the look of betray as I took his life of all my past misdeeds its was his death alone that haunted me. I'd killed someone who'd I once called a friend; I can only imagine the pain his wife and daughter must be going through.

    It wasn't long before the executioner came to my cell the rattling of his keys could be heard from across the corridor, it rung out louder than the screams of those still trying to bargain there way out of death. It was like the grand father clock from “The Masque of the Red Death” each time its rattle was heard meant the end of another life. This time it was mine.

    The hooded man pulled me to the surface where hundreds if not thousands of people cheered, men and women shouted kids cried out from the tops of their parents shoulders trying to get a better view. The man brought me to a block of wood positioned in the middle of the stand. Using his foot to press down on the back of my knees knocking me forward. As the cries grew louder I merely watched as the bloodlust over took each and everyone of them. I wondered if that's how I looked as I murdered Marcus and Jonathon, I couldn't remember. The next thing I remember was staring out at the crowd their distorted and vile faces cheering then nothing.
  4. The crowd dispersed at the first sign of twilight rain. Mothers grabbed their disobedient children to dinner while others scuttled to find shade in their homes both from the rain and the gore they witnessed that day. Enough was enough. A curious few, however, stayed mesmerized for the final execution.

    “Neohmi, the Witch of Souls, the Doll Maker!” The last criminal stepped forward. Her shackles echoed over the sound of raindrops. Despite her tattered white dress, wild hair, and dirt-streaked cheeks, Detective Alvyn Chant, along with the rest of the crowd, still saw a hauntingly beautiful woman before them.

    “…Almeric Nells, heir to Duke of Red Abbot,
    Merino Fester, Samuel, Cameo Lapp,
    William Lapp, Jonathan Streid, Calvin Klown,
    Glenn West, and Dean Chester…”

    Her eyes twinkled when the town crier finished reciting the names. He was missing the tenth victim: a boy about ten years of age. He was her first successful Character Masking, was probably her last victim—- and he stood right in the middle of the few strangers who were watching her sentence. Neohmi recognized him and he recognized her, but his face betrayed no rage, not even confusion.

    “…for unlawful witchcraft…”

    Neohmi’s smile broadened at this, much to the disgust of the detective. The masses was to know nothing about the nature of her crime lest it will encourage copycats. He remembered the ruckus he caused when the mayor insisted his written report to be as vague as possible. From the crowd, he shot the witch a sharp look. No one will know the truth of her madness.

    “…pleads guilty and is sentenced to the Ban Hammer.”

    On cue, thunder growled and lightning spat at the execution. The strong wind carried more rain. Both the boy and the detective were unmoving while the rest shifted from where they stood, unsure whether to leave or wait for the lady’s final breath. The executioner dragged the witch’s head to the wooden block as many criminals had before her, nearly tearing her belt which tied her last three dolls and sewing box. As the Hammer was raised, the detective wondered if the Witch of Souls shed tears. Then, down the Hammer went.

    Neohmi heard a deafening pop and a whisper in the distance: “The rain cried when you couldn’t."
    #4 Neohmi, Aug 11, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Aug 13, 2013
    • Love Love x 1
  5. [​IMG]

    It's hot...

    Why is it hot?

    I peel open my eyes and all I can see is sand. But it is grey, even the sky. Carefully I lift myself up, my feet sinking into the warm sand, getting in between my toes and my robe. There's a familiar weight on my hip and I recognize it as my sword. Odd, I wasn't wearing it during my Banishment.

    "Where am I?"

    Of course the only thing I hear is the whipping wind and the sand buffeting my face. Far off the horizon I see tall dark shadows; they are mountains but in this world they are almost black. Strange, I've never heard of such a place in my travels and I've seen some wondrous things.

    Looking down at myself I see that my fingers and hands are grey too, so is my orange robe. My prayer beads have retained their same color, but back home they are black as well. I reach up, touch my head and am thrown off by the inch of hair growth. I know I shaved my head before my Banishment. How has it grown back so quickly? I examine my fingers once more... My nails have grown as well. It isn't much, but I cut them recently.

    "Hello?" Sand enters my mouth and I spit it out. I need to find shelter soon. The wind is far too fierce and I think a sand storm is coming. I stumble forward and trek into the sand, sometimes walking on rock, and other times walking on sand dunes. I don't know which one is more painful, my feet burn on the rocks and the sand dunes make my calves seize up. Fortunately in this world the sun still travels across the horizon so darkness will come soon.

    I don't recall how much I've traveled, I know I only walked for an hour when something in the gray sands catches my eye. At first I try to avoid it, in case it is something that wishes to eat me, but it moves and I see an arm. I keep my distance for I am not stupid and call out to their limp form.

    "Hello there! Are you alright?"
    • Like Like x 1
  6. Shadow didn't react at first, unable to understand why everything was so...gray. Her hand moved in front of her face and she saw that it was gray, too. Some part of her was disappointed that she hadn't really died. She vaguely wondered if her eyes were still red, or if this world had taken that, too. She slowly managed to build up the will to sit up, and rustled her short hair to rid it of unwanted sand. A desert? How unoriginal. The heat seemed to cling to her black clothes and hair, but she ignored it. Nothing really seemed to matter anymore anyway. Seri. The thought had struck her so suddenly, she hardly had time to grasp her face in her hands to prevent unwanted tears. She wouldn't cry; it seemed like a weak thing to do. She only allowed the smallest of moans to express her agony.
  7. The crowd that had gathered turned the courtyard into a sea disgust and contempt. As the guards took his shackled arms by the elbows and paraded him through the square. All eyes were on him, rotten vegetables were thrown, and curses were shouted. Some of those who had not come early enough had climbed the ramparts just to get a glimpse of the festivities. Their sharp gestures and blood thirsty calls reminded him of spectators at some sporting event. The children swung their fists over head like hammers in anticipation of the deed they'd all come to witness. Outside the walls he could hear still more voices calling for his head. Evidently the word had been put out that today would be the day they slew the Reaper of The Seas.

    It was remarkable, he thought, how society can so condemn the act of murder, yet when a man is so despised by enough people his death became a pageant.
    As they escorted him down the stone path from the inner gate toward the raised platform he could hear a chant begin. It started as nothing more than rhythmic noise, but as more an more of the crowd carried it the words quickly became clear.

    "Glance him once, strike him twice"

    Not only did these people want him dead, they wanted to watch him flop around and scream like a sow before my life was ended. Jakob let out a soft chuckle, which was quickly silenced by one of my porters with a swift knee to the stomach. Now doubled over, his feet caught on each step as the guards lifted him up.

    As he recovered from the blow Jakob raised my head to find a man in red and black robes, looking down his nose at me while holding a scroll.

    "Captain Jacob Sterling..."

    "Thats Jah'kob Sterling your hon-" he interrupted, but a second knee swiftly silenced his words.

    The old man scowled at him, appalled that the idea that someone of his ilk would even consider interrupting him. The man, obviously a herald now, continued. "You are hereby sentenced to die at the hands of the High Executioner by will of Her Majesty Queen Diana Notacat. Have you any last words?"

    Jakob let out a winded huff, which slowly gained strength. He looked to the crowd and back at the herald, his huffing becoming an amused laugh. It only serves to grow more uncontrollable until his voice fills the court yard. Jakob let his head fall back and closed his eyes, enjoying the joke that none of them quite understand.

    "You just don't get it." his gaze lowered my gaze upon the herald.

    "Here I stand in chains under armed guard, ready to face my death and you think that somehow this will give you mastery over me? No...Mastery comes from making your enemy feel fear, causing them to lose sleep. The way I've caused so many of you to lay awake in your beds wondering if your loved ones will return to port alive. The mastery you seek comes from watching the guilty piss themselves and beg for forgiveness in their last moments."
    The crowd fall silent, shocked by his words.

    "You'll get neither from me," Jakob's words have an edge to them now, his voice rasping as his voice raises with that familiar sailors tone. "The souls I took from your sons and daughters will be mine for all eternity. And they'll burn along with me in the fires of whatever hell the Gods send me to!"
    The towns folk below begin shouting, now outraged. The push against the barriers surrounding the platform, guards struggling to keep them back ready to lynch the salt themselves. Knowing time is short, the executioner silently gestures for the guards to kneel the him before the block.
    As Jakob lowers his head, he takes one last look at the mob and is invigorated. Their rage spoke to their fear, what a thrill it was to die knowing he'd had such power over so many.

    The executioner raised his hammer high over head and brought it down with a mighty clang. Jakob felt his ears ringing as the space between them become none as he fell into silent oblivion.
  8. Sitting alone in his cell was a man dressed in black leather, a long red cape and bright blue short hair. Just like all his inmates he was bound by his wrists and ankles. He sat there waiting for his execution just twiddling his thumbs, thinking of Alex, his adopted little brother. Tears fell from his eyes and whispered “Sorry Alex”.

    He knew it wasn't his fault; he became a vampire to save his crew. When the bloodlust kicked in nothing could stop him and Alex sacrificed himself to save Scrubz.

    A voice was heard inside his head “Captain how you doing”

    Scrubz knew who it was, it was his ship “Hey Blue, a little nervous” he said quietly

    “Slinky will be there”

    Scrubz wasn't happy and shook his head “I told her to stay put” raising his voice

    “What you expect from h……”

    Scrubz interrupted “Someone’s coming” he heard the jingle of keys coming his way. Before his cell was opened he whispered “Wish me luck”

    “Good luck Captain” Blue replied

    The hooded man opened Scrubz’s cell, Scrubz took a deep breath and stood up and shuffled out. As he was guided outside the people were shouting, screaming and cursing Scrubz. He kept his head down and carried on forward. Some people threw tomatoes and other vegetables. Scrubz stayed silent and was led up to the block where he slouched. If people actually looked you could tell he was filled with guilt, but all they wanted was blood.

    He viewed the crowd hoping not to see his first mate Slinky but there she was, she made it to the front row, tears in her eyes. He mouthed the words to her “I’ll be fine” she nodded but she didn't believe.

    Scrubz had enough of waiting and ignored all words thrown to him and he placed his head on the block, closed his eyes and await the hammer to come. He's been killed once since he's been a vampire, this should go just the same he thought. Scrubz has underestimated the hammer and as the hammer went up, he opened his eyes and saw Slinky and she mouthed the words "I Love You". Then it all went Blank.
  9. Neohmi sat up with a start when she woke, heaving in as much air as she could in her first breath. Immediately, she felt the pang throbbing in her skull so strong that she barely noticed her palms scalding on the sand in attempt to straighten herself up. But the drilling in her head grew only louder and louder as her lungs wheezed more and more violently.

    What is this place? She rolled over, pushed herself to stand, only to stumble further down the steep sand dune. The world spiraled all around her and she spiraled along with it. Grey, she looked everywhere in confusion. There was nothing but shades of grey. Her headache dug deeper at this realization, causing her to drop on her knees and puke.

    The release somewhat cleared Neohmi's head but the dry tang in her mouth made her throat ache. Water, she instinctively wished. Relief washed over her when she saw what lied straight ahead. It seemed the Goddess had finally favored her for, just a short distance away, were a few of palm trees standing on patches of grass. Immediately, Neohmi forced her legs towards the oasis, a cloud of sand splashing behind her.

    She tripped on the bermuda; her legs were surprised at the sudden change of ground texture. But she couldn't care less about the cuts on her knees that stung from her fall. She found, in the middle of all that grass, was a pond invitingly clear, yet still grey. She tore away her reflection in the water when she knelt down and grabbed a cup with her hands. The cool water refreshed her burning hands and tasted like bliss running from her lips down to her throat. Greedily, she took in some more, stopping only to breathe.

    After Neohmi had her fill, her body had considerably calmed down. It was only then that she allowed herself to judge her surroundings. In every direction, she saw only sand dunes. The sun was still up but nearing its destination in the horizon. Deciding that staying near the oasis would be best, she settled herself under the shade of the nearest petite palm tree. One look at the considerably small pond assured her that things will be alright, even if it was just for a while.

    She started pondering about how she found herself in this desert when up in the sand dune in front of her view, a silhouette appeared, and it was headed her way. She straightened herself up and felt for one of the three rag dolls that still hung on her leather belt. Friend or foe? But the silhouette was too far to tell. This isn't good. She checked herself and assumed that she had only enough energy to summon Grimmerly for ten minutes or so. She spat at her vulnerability and prayed to the Goddess that whoever was coming didn't pose a threat.
    • Like Like x 1
  10. A great cloud of dust and sand erupted from his lungs as Jakob came to, attempting to void his lungs. The first thought that came to mind was how incompetent the execution was. The man had failed to carry out his only task merely knocking him unconscious and now Jakob had been buried alive, doomed to a slow painful death by asphyxiation. He coughed hysterically flopping over onto his side. Each time he ran out of air he’d gasp; sucking the remainder of the dry earth back in, forcing him to repeat this action for several minutes. The sensation felt a lot like drowning. His fingers dug into the ground as if he were trying to climb his way out, the way a man desperately reaches to the surface while he sinks deeper and deeper into the darkness. It was then that he thought to himself how awfully bright this was for a grave, windy too.

    Extending an arm he began to reach all around him until he grasped a shallow wooden wall, not more than a foot or two off the ground. It was brittle, and there were even a few spaces where he could press his thumb through to the other side. Jakob opened his eyes slowly to adjust them to the light. What came into focus was a strange sight. He found himself curled up in what appeared to be the dried up wreck of an old row boat, half buried in the sand, and judging by the amount still covering his legs he’d been there almost as long as the wreck. Salt flats stretched around him in all directions, and mountains on the horizon to the west.

    What was most curious was the absence of any colour. Jakob had often thought of the world as nothing more than different shades of gray, but that it had merely been a euphemism. Could it be the Gods had made this place as some cosmic joke that his cynical words might mock him for the rest of eternity? He rolled his eyes at this idea. Irony was a joke somewhat lost on him. He wasn't about to raise his hands to the sky and curse the fates for forcing him to wander in a colourless desert. If this was his destiny, he intended to spend the rest of eternity exploring this strange land, but before that, he would have to find the basic essentials; food, water, fire.

    Jakob untied the sash from around his waist and wrapped it twice around face, it wasn't perfect, but it would serve to keep his airways clear of debris kicked up by the wind. He chose to follow the sun and head towards the mountains, judging from their size it would take at least a couple of days. He could do without food for that long, water was his primary concern.

    Hours later, as the sun began to nestle between the jagged peaks ahead of him; he could feel his body becoming weak. His vision was blurring, he felt drunk. Sunstroke had begun to set in. Feet now dragging and near exhaustion he mounted one last hill, what he found was a sight beholding. There before him lay a small oasis surrounded by trees and tall grass. His pace quickened, body urging him forward, every muscle aching from dehydration. It was only then that Jakob realized he was not alone. He levelled his head and squinted, looking across the shallow water. He could make out the shape of a slender young woman staring back at him, but that was all. Now in a full state of confusion he could hear whispers from his past.

    Shaking he called out across the water in a distressed voice.

    “…Trinity?" His question was punctuated by sound of an audible thump as his face made contact with the ground, kicking up dust.
  11. Chronos awoke in a jolt his body covered in sweat, his throat was parched and skin felt painfully hot. He got up as quickly as possible rubbing the exposed part of his body that had been burning. He was so focused on the heat he didn't notice that he and everything around him was gray, "What the-" he looked around bewildered. This was all too much to take in at once. What happened to the execution, why was he in a desert and why was it completely gray? He felt like he was about to go insane.

    He inhaled his throat still dry, he could barely hold it without feeling like he was choking. "Gotta find water." he mumbled to himself he felt around his pockets seeing if he still had anything on him. Surprisingly he found not only a pack of cigarettes, but his sword and favorite pair of daggers. He was sure the guards had taken these from him upon his incarceration. Why did he have them now?

    With no other options he decided to try and find his way through this never ending desert. Judging by the sun position he only had a few hours left before nightfall, and if he didn't find shelter soon he'd freeze from the drop in temperature.
    #11 Hounds, Aug 25, 2013
    Last edited: Aug 25, 2013
  12. Neohmi had gripped the rag doll on her side tensely as the hooded figure, like a violent drunk, neared the oasis. She nearly took a step back when he was just across the pond when his sudden gaze on her kept her still. Between the cloth that shielded half his face and the hood over his head, his intense eyes glared with such painful recognition that Neohmi was almost convinced that they had crossed paths before. But I've never seen you my entire life, Neohmi was sure of it. When the stranger called her with the wrong name and dropped on the sand, she knew that he was simply delusional from dehydration--- worse off than she was moments ago.

    Immediately without thinking, Neohmi ran towards him, turned him over, and loosened his mask. She couldn't help letting out a small scream when she saw his deathly gaunt face smeared by sand. Empathy made her retrieve a cup of water from the pond for the man, but the precious drink slipped away from her hands before she could get to his chapped lips. For her second attempt, she tore a whole chunk of the outer skirt of her tattered dress and sponged up some pond water. But when she squeezed the cloth above his open mouth, she knew that it wasn't enough. Although it was already late afternoon, the sun was still blaring them with heat, worsening his heat stroke.

    One look from the palm tree nearby told Neohmi what she needed to do. With one big heave, she clutched the shoulders of the stranger's jacket to pull him into the shade. Her first pull made her hiss in pain. His jacket was as hot as the sand underneath them and her burning palms were throbbing again. She tore the wet cloth she used on the stranger in half and tied each piece on her palms to soothe the pain. Then, she was able to haul the stranger towards the palm tree with little complications.

    Now that the pond was nearer, Neohmi was able to gather some water with her hands and slowly poured it on his mouth. The cloth over her palms helped keep the water in place. After giving him a couple more drinks, she patted his face. "Wake up," she said. Her pats turned into gentle slaps. "Wake up," she repeated, not caring that he needed rest. It's better for me to face you vulnerable like this, she thought. Than to have you kill me after a good rest. Somehow she knew that the man she just saved had murdered before.
    • Love Love x 1
  13. The body - this person - finally sits up and the action floods me with relief and alarm. I take a step forward, but that is all I do. Somehow this person looks familiar, but that is unlikely. Or is it? What did my cell mate tell me about the Banishment? That it sends your mind elsewhere and your body is left to rot? They call that place Misera. Perhaps this is it?

    But my cell mate never told me that meeting others is possible... Or is it?

    I shake my head to clear it of my ridiculous thoughts and the sand in my eyes. In the distance, and advancing swiftly towards us a cloud and from the way it swirls I know it is a sand storm. I sprint over to this stranger and offer a hand.

    "If you have no intention to harm me, then come along," I shouted through the fierce wind.

    Although where I and this stranger will go for shelter is beyond me. It seems that all around us there is sand and a wasteland but wait...

    "Oh the Heavens are smiling upon us this day. Is that a palm tree I see?" I drag my companion forward and point towards two sand dunes. "There do you see it? Come! I am dying of thirst."

    I must be drunk or giddy; I don't wait for their answer but simply push forward. I feel like I am swimming, but instead of water, there is sand. Despite being so weary, I tell myself that wherever there are trees, there must be water. There must.

    "Quickly now before this mirage fades!"
  14. Shadow didn't even protest as the woman pushed and pulled at her person. Though her words didn't quite register in the demon's brain, somehow she seemed to be able to grasp the concept. She didn't want to run, didn't want to reach towards what she knew would save her. However, this woman egged her onward. Quickly now, before this mirage fades! Why did she care, anyway? They were all going to die anyway. Why prolong it? Nevertheless, Shadow forced her legs to move as she was seized by the wrist and they began running towards some kind of tree.
  15. Jakob’s chest heaved at the sensation of the cool damp cloth against hi bare skin. The intense pressure in his head began to subside, though it was still throbbing. His eyes opened in slits, milky grey irises moving from side to side taking in his blurry surroundings. Doubled vision obscured finer details, but he was certain by level of light that he was in the shade and the cooler breeze that he was now laying in the shade. Jakob closed one eye to stop the world from spinning. He was able to steady it just enough to make out the shape of a woman hovering over him and she was saying something.

    The words came out all garbled, at least that’s the way he perceived them with his brain boiling as it was. But her body language was unmistakable, equal parts caution and concern. The way one might look upon a wounded animal in the wilderness. Which wasn't far off from how Jakob felt, his entire body aching as she worked over him.

    His first instinct when awakening to a strange face was to blow it away. But the fact that he was awakening to someone of the female persuasion tending to his condition softened his response. There was also the fact that in his weakened state, it wasn't likely that he had the strength to draw. He would let this play out, gauge this woman’s responses and try to get a sense of who it was he was dealing with.
    Breaking his silence, Jakob laid his head back, and stared up at the clear sky. His hands coming to rest on his belt as he spoke.

    “Ye know, ordinarily ah hae tae pay fur this kind o'attention. A'm sure ye kin imagine whey.” He murmurs, gesturing to his face with a small chuckle. Despite his condition, the sailor somehow manages to keep a charmingly twisted sense of humour. He even musters a pained smile as he quips.His other hand meanwhile slides down to his belt, angling the holstered pistol up and across his hip discretely. He saw no reason to fire as it was, but it was always best to have a trump card ready, just in case things deteriorated.
    • Like Like x 1
  16. Chronos could barely keep himself upright, he'd been walking for hours now with now water and no shade his skin burned and if there was any color he was sure they'd be bright red at this point. The Sun was about to descend behind the mountains now and he could see the moon begin to peek just over the horizon. If he didn't find shelter soon he'd be done for. His legs began to give to wobble he was going on will power alone at this point, but even that was starting to run out.

    As he made his was over the next dune he was something, squinting he tried to make out what it was. From his perspective it looked like a little black dot just poking out of the sand. With time running short he decided that he make his way over there hopefully his gamble would pay off. He continued walking for another twenty minutes before he was able to make out the strange dot and what he saw was nothing short of a miracle. It was an oasis, out of all the things he could have found out here this was the one thing he'd never thought he would've found.

    With the last of his strength Chronos hobbled as fast as he could into this lost paradise that stood before him. All he could think of was finding the closest source of water and drowning himself in it.
  17. Neohmi allowed herself a little laugh of relief upon hearing the stranger's words. "This must be your lucky day, then." She teasingly moved her bandaged palm tenderly on the man's chest while her face remained hovering over his. Clearly, a lonely man, she thought. I can't use my dolls so my charms will have to do. For effect, she smiled sweetly, even when she noticed his hand sliding towards a pistol on his side. Being in a better condition than the stranger, she caught his wrist before he could push her away.

    "There's no need for that." Her eyes twinkled on his. "I am not going to hurt you," bluffing, "and you can't hurt me. Not in this state."

    Neohmi felt his gaunt cheeks one last time before she straightened up to look at the horizon where the sun was about to set. How much time had passed? Frowning, she noticed clouds gobbling the clear sky in the distance. No, not clouds, she realized. A sand storm, maybe. But something else caught her attention. "Oh, great," she told her companion. "We've got company." Just around the horizon, a couple of tiny silhouettes were climbing down a sand dune with as much grace as the hooded stranger she just saved. She was so transfixed by the pair that she was unaware of another stranger coming at them from a different direction. "Looks like you might need your pistol after all." She sounded quite annoyed, indeed.
  18. As he grew closer to the oasis Chronos noticed that he was not alone, there were two others both crouched next to the only source of water for miles. He noticed two more coming over a sand dune to his right. Had he been in a more stable condition he would have approached them carefully. However, given the fact that he was minutes from passing out due to dehydration he couldn't afford to wait around. Throwing caution to the wind he sprinted/staggered into the oasis heading straight from the water, once at there he dropped to his knees and began sucking up as much water as he could choking multiple times.

    After he had his fill he plunged both his arms into it as well, the water washing over his sun burns, he sighed in relief as it began cooling his arms. It was only after that did he bother looking at the two on the other side of the pond. "Sorry, I've been walking all day and was about to collapse when I found this place. My name is Dante I used to be a merchant. Before I was sent...here." His breath was still ragged each word came out more as a pant rather than actual words. He could couldn't help it though he'd been under the blazing sun for so long and he was so parched, he was sure if he could actually see his arms in color they would both be bright red at this point. He made no intention of fighting and could only hope that they would do the same and let him rest. If they wanted to they could have easily killed him he wouldn't even be able to struggle let alone fight they way he was right now.
  19. Over the sand dunes we went, gasping and panting for breath as the sun beat down on us. And behind came the sand storm, several miles away from us. Despite the distance I can hear the way it roars like some savage lion. The sounds urges me to run faster, stranger in tow. The palm trees grow defined as they loom closer and closer. And I think, I think I can smell the water. But I don't get the chance to dwell on the scent for very long. My foot catches on a rock, cutting painfully through my leather shoes and I am sent tumbling down.

    I remember to let go of the stranger's wrist but perhaps I wasn't fast enough. I feel my body thumping painfully against the sand, grains lodging itself into my parched mouth. My knees collide with my chest, my head collides with any sharp rocks and when at last I tumble to a halt, I am dizzy, out of breath and slightly bruised.

    I suppose the sight is comical, despite how much my body hurts.

    I reach up and rub my head, wincing as I feel a cut. I see two others, and instinct has me bolting upright, palm on my sword. Why are people suddenly appearing and in this place? Then again, no one mentioned that you would be alone in Misera did they? I advance hesitantly forward, speaking clearly and loudly over the wind.

    "Ho there! Might I inquire as to who you are?"

    I make my eyes stay on them, force it to stay on them, but they keep drifting towards that beautiful pool of water.

    Through the swarming clouds of gray colored sand, a figure moves. Unlike everything else in this world, this figure is colored. Red liquid drips from two puncture wounds in his neck, staining his clothes maroon and there's a crazed look in his eyes. He hasn't existed before, not until someone else arrived with their memories, and it was with their memories that he, Alex Moore, was constructed. He's only a child, but there is vengeance glinting from those eyes.

    He limps along, cresting a dune overlooking the oasis and slowly shakes his head. He has orders to obey.

    "Where... Where is he?"
  20. The Dungeons:
    It was silent, deathly silent. She had been left alone for days to wallow in her own misery. Not that it was misery, she had done what she had believed was right and as long as that was the case she could live with the consequences of her actions, no matter who had been hurt in the end. It wasn't as if she had harmed anyone after all, at least not physically. She had been nothing more then a student, her presence had been of little consequence, and she had been sure nobody had cared when she left.

    Apparently actions spoke louder then the situations they were preformed in. She had left, that was the point. She hadn't sought permission, or asked for leave, she had simply left, and Queen Diana, a woman Falcon had never even heard of until returning to Iwaku, had felt threatened. What Falcon had done once she might do again and that could not be allowed to happen.

    Perhaps she should have bothered to appeal, but Falcon had been gone long enough that everyone she had once known was gone. Well, there was one . . . but Falcon had serious doubts he would remember. At that time her presence had hardly mattered. And besides, she deserved this.

    Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps walking down the dungeon halls and pausing outside her cell. “It is time.” A powerful voice announced as the lock clicked. The cell door swung open with a creak and Falcon rose to her feet and stepped out of the cell completely on her own.

    The Execution:
    She could hear the roar of voices as the guard walked her down the hallway towards the yard where the execution was to take place. The screams of the mob echoed off the walls through the open door. Their cheers rang as the prisoner slated for the spot in front of her was executed. Falcon’s guard gestured and she walked forwards through those doors into the yard. Out of the corner of her eye she could see someone moving away the body of the previous convict.

    She stepped forward, unshackled, unchained, resigned to her fate and fully willing to accept the sentence the Queen had assigned. It had been her choice to leave, hers and hers alone. As she walked towards the platform unbound, unguarded, head held high the crowd’s noise faded into a hush. They didn't understand. They couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly walk towards this fate, and in a strange way she saw their silence as a form of respect.

    As the charges were read she mounted the steps and knelt in front of the executioner who held the hammer ready. “Any last words?” She simply closed her eyes in resignation.

    The Desert:
    It wasn't really the heat that woke her, but the dryness at the back of her throat. Coughing violently she opened her eyes and tried to rise to her feet, but couldn't. Shifting around as best she could Falcon took in the colorless landscape and her own body. She was shocked to find her broach pinned in its usual place on her chest and her jo lying in the sand nearby. Had they not both been taken from her? And why did there seem to be no color? But that hardly mattered now. She had to move. She was in the middle of a desert half reclined on an exposed rock, body partially covered by sand. It was the amount of sand covering her that told her she had been there for some time. That and the papery, stretched feeling in half her face that hinted at a bad sunburn. Choking on the dry air she slowly began to dig herself out . . .

    . . . Sometime later she paused as she walked across the endless dunes, stopping to shade her eye in the glare of the heat. She might only have been walking for a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Time was impossible to keep track of in a place like this. She wished she knew where she was. There was a large shadow off in the distance. She couldn't tell if it were moving, or just another large rock. But it was something she could aim for so she started walking again, using her Jo as a short staff, hoping that she might at least reach shade before her body gave in to the dehydration she was already beginning to feel . . .

    . . . She really had been walking for hours now. Endless amounts of time spent in the sweltering colorless land. No sign of shade, no sign of water. If she kept up like this she would die soon. As she crossed the rise of a dune she noted that the sun looked like it was threatening to go down, though it was difficult to tell in this land without color. If it did night wouldn't be much better then day, just opposite. It’d go from broiling to frigid, and icy temperatures weren't much better for her. Yes, she was a fire mage, but it was difficult to make fire when she was already cold, and the magic was impossible to maintain if she lost consciousness. There was nothing to burn in this place either so setting a campfire was out. Without shelter, without water, without food, without sleep . . . the hammer apparently hadn't killed her, but this desert would.

    It was as she was internally debating her best course of action for survival that she lost her footing. With a yelp she tumbled down, end over end, hanging on to her jo with all she had and struggling to turn her topsy-turvy fall into a sort of controlled slide. In the end she managed it, turning so she was sliding on her back and using the jo as a sort of odd rudder. Sand flew everywhere obscuring her view of things and getting into her mouth making her hack and cough and nearly loose control again. When she finally reached the bottom of the dune Falcon stayed on her hands and knees struggling to regain her breath and then she forced herself to crawl up the next, much shorter one.

    As she reached the rise and finally used the jo to push back to her feet she could only stare, hoping beyond hope that she was really seeing what she thought she was. There in front of her, was the same dark shadow she had been making her way towards since nearly the moment she had woken up. Only this time she could see what it was. An oasis.