- Invitation Status
- Look for groups
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- My times are pretty erratic, but I try to avoid being on EST 11pm-9am.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Modern, Historical Romance.
The world of Ceria, the setting of Those Below can be further explored in this Plotist, a collaboration between @Joan and @firejay1.
The port city of Leifred could always be accurately described with the word, "loud." Even at night, the whir and hum of hoverbike garages could be heard throughout the whole city. The huge ships at the dock creaked softly, straining against the ropes that kept them from floating away across the seas and buzzing with the lines of power drawn in their Crystal-Powered Navigation-Programmed Sails (aka Cryssails). Daytime brought greater horrors. People flooded in and out with the tide, bringing with them the horrid din of life. Passengers being sick overboard, people calling out to each other so as not to get lost, a couple of small slave auctions being held not far from the docks, and the merchants peddling their wares with enthusiasm. The hoverbike races conducted among the mechanics in the lower edge of the city trembled not only with the rumble of the engines, but with the shouts of the gamblers, cheering their favored racer, throwing out bets, or jeering at the losers. Leifred was alive and liked to make a point about it. It was also perpetually smelly, but this at least was perfectly constant. The city reeked of fecal matter and either rotting fish or Crystal lubricant depending on how far from the docks one was. While gambling on the hoverbike races tiptoed the line of legality, the city itself was also known for its crime rate, no surprise in a place where drifters were common and thievery unnoticed until the owner was already miles away.
For all its faults, however, the port city was good at what port cities were meant to do. It was a center of movement, leading people to the places they really wanted to go, and giving its few true residents a way of supporting their daily lives. Its ever-shifting mass of people also provided perfect cover for a safe meeting, or for passing on a message to someone you'd been searching for, as the seer was here to do today. She was here. He could feel it. The time was right, even if that meant his was almost up.
His eyes were closed, and a rough wooden staff tapped against the ground, but despite this, he navigated the thick crowds skillfully, using something other than his sight. He reached out his hand….
The woman he grabbed feels a hand on her shoulder and sees a man. Although he does not look terribly old, his hands are gnarled and frame frail, skin weather-worn and dry. His cloak is poor and rough, but from beneath it she sees robes of flowing silk, thin strips of pale blue thread making strange, but elegant patterns across the white cloth. A locket hangs around his neck, the pendant large and distinctive. The symbol emblazoned in the metal is simple: a crystal divided into four smaller crystals of identical shape and size, black lines swirling around this form in an elaborate, almost smoky manner. But most strikingly, his eyes are white and sightless, yet seem to glow with power. Although most would shrink away from such a man grabbing them, she is held captive as he rasps a message at her.
"Child of two races, unite them again at last.
Together alone may we stand strong.
Too, also, will you need the strength once shunned.
And permit the signs to lead you where they be.
"Within your doubt shall I give you clarity.
"The poison that has begun will make itself known in the tremble of the earth.
For the darkest of the world must be born in the darkest of places.
"The first of yours will reveal itself away from which she runs.
And she will know better the power in her blood than you know yours.
"Follow, then, your will to what has been abandoned.
And there lose it to regain what has been forgotten.
"Darkness will be met with not courage but fear.
And far will the lofty fall.
"In the Field of Dragons you shall find the friend that is sincere in word.
And they shall lead the way through the fire.
"But the single-horned will fall by the hand of the one who wishes most to save.
'less you watch with wary eyes for those of good intentions.
"The number that wander in search of great evil shall be unmatched by the number that escape it.
And they will find it at the Edge of the World, hiding in the Broken Mother's bosom.
"Take not the narrow roads,
For only eyes that have seen all of the world can also save all of it.
Waver not from the roads you have chosen.
For the paths not traveled will lead only to ruin.
"A heart for a heart so it was told,
Thus does the corruptor of all hearts seek the incorruptible heart.
But take heart, Torn Child,
Only those that take their hearts may also keep them.
"What I have spoken of is but a glimmer of the trials that will unfold.
In the end you will fight within, what is born of Those Below."
As he gasped out his last words, the blind seer, Sacred One of the Allies of the Crystal, for that was who he was, fell forward against the red-haired woman and coughed. His frail frame shuddered once and fell still, leaving the large pendant dangling in her lap. As he died, a hiss seemed to run through the crowd, whispers that came from no one. A black mist seeped forward slowly, probing, searching for something. A man close to them turned to look, his eyes suddenly completely black, skin gaining an ashy pallor. The ground shook. Earthquakes were not common in this area and at first this was met with confusion, but it turned to panic as the quaking grew stronger. "The tremble of the earth…" The whisper hung in the air.
The port city of Leifred could always be accurately described with the word, "loud." Even at night, the whir and hum of hoverbike garages could be heard throughout the whole city. The huge ships at the dock creaked softly, straining against the ropes that kept them from floating away across the seas and buzzing with the lines of power drawn in their Crystal-Powered Navigation-Programmed Sails (aka Cryssails). Daytime brought greater horrors. People flooded in and out with the tide, bringing with them the horrid din of life. Passengers being sick overboard, people calling out to each other so as not to get lost, a couple of small slave auctions being held not far from the docks, and the merchants peddling their wares with enthusiasm. The hoverbike races conducted among the mechanics in the lower edge of the city trembled not only with the rumble of the engines, but with the shouts of the gamblers, cheering their favored racer, throwing out bets, or jeering at the losers. Leifred was alive and liked to make a point about it. It was also perpetually smelly, but this at least was perfectly constant. The city reeked of fecal matter and either rotting fish or Crystal lubricant depending on how far from the docks one was. While gambling on the hoverbike races tiptoed the line of legality, the city itself was also known for its crime rate, no surprise in a place where drifters were common and thievery unnoticed until the owner was already miles away.
For all its faults, however, the port city was good at what port cities were meant to do. It was a center of movement, leading people to the places they really wanted to go, and giving its few true residents a way of supporting their daily lives. Its ever-shifting mass of people also provided perfect cover for a safe meeting, or for passing on a message to someone you'd been searching for, as the seer was here to do today. She was here. He could feel it. The time was right, even if that meant his was almost up.
His eyes were closed, and a rough wooden staff tapped against the ground, but despite this, he navigated the thick crowds skillfully, using something other than his sight. He reached out his hand….
The woman he grabbed feels a hand on her shoulder and sees a man. Although he does not look terribly old, his hands are gnarled and frame frail, skin weather-worn and dry. His cloak is poor and rough, but from beneath it she sees robes of flowing silk, thin strips of pale blue thread making strange, but elegant patterns across the white cloth. A locket hangs around his neck, the pendant large and distinctive. The symbol emblazoned in the metal is simple: a crystal divided into four smaller crystals of identical shape and size, black lines swirling around this form in an elaborate, almost smoky manner. But most strikingly, his eyes are white and sightless, yet seem to glow with power. Although most would shrink away from such a man grabbing them, she is held captive as he rasps a message at her.
"Child of two races, unite them again at last.
Together alone may we stand strong.
Too, also, will you need the strength once shunned.
And permit the signs to lead you where they be.
"Within your doubt shall I give you clarity.
"The poison that has begun will make itself known in the tremble of the earth.
For the darkest of the world must be born in the darkest of places.
"The first of yours will reveal itself away from which she runs.
And she will know better the power in her blood than you know yours.
"Follow, then, your will to what has been abandoned.
And there lose it to regain what has been forgotten.
"Darkness will be met with not courage but fear.
And far will the lofty fall.
"In the Field of Dragons you shall find the friend that is sincere in word.
And they shall lead the way through the fire.
"But the single-horned will fall by the hand of the one who wishes most to save.
'less you watch with wary eyes for those of good intentions.
"The number that wander in search of great evil shall be unmatched by the number that escape it.
And they will find it at the Edge of the World, hiding in the Broken Mother's bosom.
"Take not the narrow roads,
For only eyes that have seen all of the world can also save all of it.
Waver not from the roads you have chosen.
For the paths not traveled will lead only to ruin.
"A heart for a heart so it was told,
Thus does the corruptor of all hearts seek the incorruptible heart.
But take heart, Torn Child,
Only those that take their hearts may also keep them.
"What I have spoken of is but a glimmer of the trials that will unfold.
In the end you will fight within, what is born of Those Below."
As he gasped out his last words, the blind seer, Sacred One of the Allies of the Crystal, for that was who he was, fell forward against the red-haired woman and coughed. His frail frame shuddered once and fell still, leaving the large pendant dangling in her lap. As he died, a hiss seemed to run through the crowd, whispers that came from no one. A black mist seeped forward slowly, probing, searching for something. A man close to them turned to look, his eyes suddenly completely black, skin gaining an ashy pallor. The ground shook. Earthquakes were not common in this area and at first this was met with confusion, but it turned to panic as the quaking grew stronger. "The tremble of the earth…" The whisper hung in the air.