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| Rumors Of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated; For Sphynx, and possible other Soto Sovrereigns | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 30 2011, 09:34 PM (418 Views) | |
| Razarod | Oct 30 2011, 09:34 PM Post #1 |
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Angkar's Fallen Lord
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It was a warm day for a Sotoan autumn. Warm enough for the windows of the Guildhall to be opened wide, allowing a pleasant breeze to flow freely through the massive building. But the wind was not the only thing allowed to pass through the windows... Flutter flutter flutter flutter. The furious beating of wings filled the room as a bird, looking like a huge red and orange eagle landed on the windowsill of the office. The great fiery bird walked along the windowsill, its talons clacking against the wood and stone, throaty trills emanating from it's beak. The noisy fluttering started up again as it flew over to Sphynx's desk. The phoenix stood there for a moment, just staring at the Councilwoman. Razarod's phoenix, which she might recognize, having spent a bit of time around Razarod and Khanrad in the past. Tseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer! The bird shrieked loudly, the ear-piercing noise reverberating off the walls as it hopped about, eager to get her attention, as though it hadn't made itself at all noticeable before. Quickly it flapped back over to the windowsill, stopping to stare at Sphynx, making no move until it was sure she saw it. Showoff. Finally it flew outside and circled over a tree for several minutes, hoping she would get the message that it could not speak: Follow the damn phoenix already. Outside, under the tree, he waited. Razarod. Alive, willing to reveal himself openly to none but Sphynx, the Councilwoman whom he had sent his phoenix to disturb, and to bring to him. Was it safe to openly reveal himself to the world, even here in Soto, with the Council? Probably not yet. But Soto could shield him from the eyes of the world. From the eyes of Sophia and Orion. As long as Orion did not know that Razarod yet lived, he had one slight advantage over him. And surely Soto would accept him. He had always been a friend to Soto before. A friend that Orion had never been. Admittedly his last meeting with Sphynx had been rather... tense... but she knew him, and was in a position of power. And did not want him dead. And this easily put her at the top of his list right now. |
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| Sphynx | Nov 3 2011, 09:12 PM Post #2 |
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Oil on Fire
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The report seemed to grow more and more boring, and somehow shorter, with each passing minute. The herdsmen in the southern part of Soto were requesting the assistance of a weather mage in order to, of all the silly things, bring them rain for their crops. Fucking rain. The ranchers apparently wanted the water for their herds, and yet the lumber workers complained that more rain this close to the end of summer, which could be one of the wetter seasons in Soto, would only turn their trails to mud, making it more difficult to get the trees out of the forests and into the mills. This is what her skills in magic had been reduced to; decision making in manipulating the weather, which was always a bad idea in her opinion, and why couldn’t people understand that? But that couldn’t be written out in a formal report that the entire council would see and then vote upon. They had asked her to compile a list of the pros and cons of both sides for a magical standpoint and submit it by the end of the week. It was going to be a terrible week. Her quill had just paused at the end of a particularly dull sentence when a large creature flew through her window, startling her enough so that her hand shook, causing several droplets of ink to fall off her quill onto the middle of her report. She swore vividly before turning to see just what, exactly, had caused the ruckus, and the anger in her eyes when they fixed upon Khanrad wasn’t mingled with an ounce of surprise. She had guessed that Razarod wasn’t dead, at least since that wasn’t his body that was buried in his grave in Angkar, but she didn’t expect for his phoenix to end up at her doorstep, making a mess and a lot of unnecessary noise that resounded greatly in her quaint office. Oh she hoped that meant that his keeper was present; she’d give him a piece of mind. The phoenix left in a way that suggested that she follow, but she had little desire to climb out her window, so instead she stood at her windowsill, glowering at the big dumb bird as he flew off outside. She watched it just for long enough to get its bearings at whatever final destination it decided to stop off at. There was an easier way to travel. A moment later the council woman stood underneath that same tree where the previous King of Angkar. She wasn’t surprised to see him alive, but she was a bit surprised that he’s sought her out. Wasn’t it him that owed her? Why was it beginning to feel like it was the other way around? “Well? May I help you?” Her tone didn’t sound exactly helpful, but at least she’d shown up. And anyway, her bad mood wasn’t entirely the fault of the phoenix. |
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| Razarod | Nov 21 2011, 09:03 PM Post #3 |
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Angkar's Fallen Lord
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It was only the span of a scant number of heartbeats that passed before the necromancer had appeared beside the former king. The man, his face covered in the same navy blue hue which comprised the matted and tangled mane of locks which sat behind his head. His eyes, despite being of an everconstant green glow, carried none of their usual brightness, seeming quite as sunken pits in the void of his face. Oh, what a contrast there was in this man: His form still as massive and powerful as ever, the very picture of health; The expression wore upon his visage, however, was quite grave, one of a man who had questioned many times whether or not he indeed wished to live. It would not be a surprise at all to find this face worn upon those attending a procession, or wandering amongst a funeral parlor. How fitting of such a tragic hero, fallen from their throne, to find their entire world stripped away. Except the funeral here is his own, that of his life and his future. Yet there was also a strange aura to his mood, a strength that can only come from a man who has been beaten to the absolute and survived. For, they say, what does not kill a body makes it stronger, and fate had certainly made its share of attempts on Razarod, emotionally if not always physically. And yet here he stood, the towering haggard monolith of a man, the Councilwoman seeming almost Lilliputian in comparison to him. By physical standards only, of course, for it was plain to see, at least to Sir Evermore, that she was by all means a powerful woman. Not only in the literal senses: her position and her capabilities, but her dominating spirit which shone forth in her gaze. "Sphynx... I am sorry to have disturbed you so. But I'm sure that you, being who and what you are, are unsurprised to find me alive. I do not come to you as though you are in my debt, for it is indeed I who does owe you some great favor. But alas! I am not able to comply. I do hope you will hear me out anyway," the black and blue monolith intoned deeply. "I do suspect you are, however, surprised that I would come to find you. Truth be told, it is you alone who I am able to come to. Angkar is not safe for me, for I could never survive yet another run-in with that assassin, Orjtarn the Inquisitor herself, were she sent after me by her master once more. And thus, you can certainly see why my going to Ashoka would be out of the question. Tantamount to suicide, which, though at one point it may have crossed my mind, my judgement has gotten the better of me." Those green orbs, sunkenly fierce as they were, connected hard with those of the necromancer, binding Razarod and Sphynx in a chain of gazes, linked together in vision as well as in destinies, which continue to find themselves intertwined, to the almost certain displeasure of at least one of the pair. "I know well that you were not particularly fond of personally. But Orion, he I know you are even less fond of. And Soto was always a friend of mine, nor did I ever bear you personally any ill will. It is for these reasons that I come laying myself at your mercy. It is for those reasons you are the only one I could seek out, and the only one whom I can currently trust with the knowledge that I still live, and to seek shelter. For this is all I ask. A place to cast off the filth and wear of my long journey, and to contemplate my purpose in the world now that my station is lost to me. And should you require anything of me, all you need is to ask it, for I would rest twofold in your debt." "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," they say. The fallen monarch now found himself hoping, more than ever, that this old proverb proved truthful. All his hopes, his life, had been laid on this one chance. For what this torn and beaten monolith required most was a range to rest itself in, fortified among the myriad of other mountains in safety. It was there that he would be able to find his purpose, to seek meaning, as a guru who resides on the top of such a formation, secure in his knowledge of the meaning of life. But what Razarod required was the meaning to only one life: his own, the new one that he had been dealt by those great fateful hands. |
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