SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    Angkar: To honour the reinvigoration of the ancient city of Mondrágon, the majestic Queen Eulalia has permitted the opening of a Coliseum where people from around the world and all walks of life can test their combat skills against one another. Many have already done battle in search of honour, glory, prizes and money.

    Ashoka: In an otherwise peaceful times, Ashokans are beset with the relatively minor inconveniences of wandering undead and occasionally-aggressive giant rock worms. There has also been some controversy over the recent re-legalisation of human sacrifice.

    Morrim: Rumour has it that Emperor Leofric de Hollemark is mustering forces for a war. Though the threat from Soto’s forests has passed, the forces previously employed in watching the forest now linger at the border. Rumours also circulate of a small group that has been dispatched to make contact with the tribes of the Do’suul Mountains.

    Soto: The Sotoans have defeated the fey and liberated themselves from Méadaigh’s oppression! Preliminary efforts have been made at rebuilding the city of Madrid, which had been captured at the beginning of the war. However, the Sotoans are hindered from recovery famine. Méadaigh’s magic caused summer to persist in the Erth’netora Forest through the winter. Her power has been withdrawn and the plants die as if preparing for winter – even though it is now summer. The Sotoans must sustain off what food they can get, what creatures they can kill and what can be imported into the city from Morrim and Angkar.

    For a fuller description of our most recent events, check out our most recent edition of The Town Crier!

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    Welcome to our home, a world in which anything can happen. From sprawling deserts and vast forests to massive volcanoes and luscious hot springs, Soare and the Scattered Isles are beautiful places just waiting to be explored. For the brave and the bold or the cautious and the wary, creatures of all kinds roam the earth, looking for adventure or for a place to call their own. Species of all kinds - the well-known and the unknown - thrive here, though not always in harmony.

    Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real.

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    Almost Without Incident; for Sphynx
    Topic Started: Oct 31 2011, 11:00 AM (369 Views)
    Andromalius
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    "Wow, that looks just like my father!" a human girl with elvish features, no older than seven or eight, bounced excitedly around the corner of a dimly-lit inn room. She was marveling over a white marble statue, very realistically depicting the innkeeper, frozen in a stance of self-protection.

    "It is your father," remarked the dark man slouched in the only chair, against the far wall. He waved a hand in a frivolous gesture at the statue.

    "What?! That's crazy. People don't just turn into stone." She gave it a last lingering stare before turning around to watch the Banshee.

    "They do if I cast a spell on them. Don't worry, little one. He'll be back to normal in three weeks."

    "Oh... Oh, that's no good, M'lord. He has too much work to take a holiday!"

    "Well, you can do it, can't you? With the help of your mother. You've done a wonderful job of tending to me in the time I've spent here."

    "You think so?" The girl crossed the floor and stood beside the phantom. "I don't know... It gets very busy and Mum is a klutz."

    Children were different to him than adults or grown creatures. They never registered his initial threatening appearance, and when they spoke, it was all questions and excitement. Andromalius adored being able to give them answers. Unlike adults, they were much more appreciative of the valuable knowledge he could bestow. Children were also capable of severe cruelty much in the same way he was. It was an oblivious sort of pure malice, to poke at a dieing animal just because you want to see a little more of what's inside. Needless to say, he got along well with most young kids. As they approached teenhood, they tend to become jaded by the system.

    "I believe in you," he assured her as he gripped the chair's arms and hoisted himself up to stand. She was tiny there beside him, but seemed no more frightened. "Its almost your busiest hour, yes? Go. Go help your mother. If you do a good job, maybe your father will give you something when he returns. Until then, keep him here and don't let anyone in. If people touch him, he might chip."

    She nodded like a good girl, scowling as if to take the order very seriously. Chipping wouldn't do, either. She started for the door with a hop, the sorcerer trailing behind slower, with a much larger gate. He finished tethering his lance, in its collapsed form, to his belt, before crossing the threshold.

    "Hey. Try not to describe me to anyone, okay? If you do, some bad things may happen to you and your family." And he wasn't talking about coming back to take revenge or some such nonsense. He was talking about all the bounty hunters and authority types that would bang her door down and rudely interrogate everyone in the establishment to the point of ruining business. People were funny, too. If they knew The Banshee King had spent a few nights here, they might think the place had been cursed.

    Andromalius was done with taking the time to pickpocket for money. He had a great advantage, being able to move noiselessly in several different forms. Even if someone were to feel the change in weight, it would be too late. They wouldn't be able to see him make his escape, and they certainly wouldn't be able to catch him. For years now, in the time he'd spent in other realms, he has forgone the entire currency system, directly taking anything he wanted. Once he'd started doing that, there seemed to be no point in money. This was why he'd had to turn the innkeeper to stone - because he'd been squatting.

    Bathed and adorned in a new change of clothes, it was time to trade the scenery for one which included less sentient life. He'd take his time and head for Angkar to catch up with Kenna and Razarod. They ought to know of his return, given the fragile truce they'd managed to forge together last time. After that, he needed to see what Sphynx, May, and Helene were up to before his daring return to Morrim. He had a tower to reclaim and an Empress to persuade into giving him a legitimate job... Last he checked, the General of Morrim's armies died in his conquest (what a fool).

    It was past dusk when Andromalius emerged from the inn, keeping himself hidden within the ambiguous folds of his cloak with the help of a little magic to change the color of his skin and hair to a light tan and golden blonde, respectively. It wasn't so late yet that the streets were clear, but it was that hour instead when all the folk of the night came out to greet the moon. He'd blend in well.

    Just as he was about to shift into the shadows and sweep past the gates of Madrid, he felt a moment of extra weight behind him, along his belt. Spinning about in an instant, he caught the wrist of a thief and raised it high. The lad had been aiming for his lance... To him, it probably looked like an expensive rod of rare metal. But before he could let him go or exact any justice, the thief began to hollar for help. The Banshee's eyes grew wide. As he released him from his clutches, there were already peacekeepers running straight for him.

    "You insignificant little pebble of rat refuse..." Andromalius whispered harshly, his gaze like that of the reaper's. Black veins began to sprawl outward from the bright blue of his irises.

    "What is the issue?" asked the first guard to arrive.

    The thief stumbled back, over-exaggerating his fear of the cloaked one. "That man just stole something from me!" It had worked before.

    "What did he steal?"

    "A scepter of metal. It is very precious to me! Please, help."

    Andromalius rolled his eyes, but otherwise remained calm, urging his rage to subside. As he forced himself to relax, the black around his irises vanished. "I can prove this man is lying." For a second, the thief looked legitimately frightened.

    "What is it you said you think this is?" the phantom drew the lance from his belt and held it so that all might observe. Most of it was that rod of dark, mysterious alloy, but the top was covered with bone-like material. This was a very dangerous predicament. He didn't know if his lance was common knowledge. He'd been the only one to carry it for centuries, though. If anyone saw him during the conquest, and they were paying attention, they may be able to recognize it. Still, he had to try to make it out of this as peacefully as possible unless he wanted the entire city to come gunning for him.

    "It's a lance," he said and demonstrated. With the flick of a hidden mechanism along the greater shaft, the thing suddenly exploded from its top and bottom. A severe and painful-looking blade popped up, as did a proper pummel on the other end. It was now as tall as its owner. "See? My lance. Not this idiot's."
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    “Indeed.”

    Her voice called out to the little crowd that had gathered around the banshee, for she knew exactly what he was. His weapon gave him away, even if he’d tried to hide his identity with the clothing. She knew the lance well; too well. It was the same weapon that had nearly killed Tsuki she would have guessed simply from the size of the blade; she’d seen the marks that it left. And there was no mistaking those eyes, though there was more blue in them now than she’d ever remembered, and she’d seen them quite clearly before.

    Her arm had been itching for a couple of days now; not a physical itch exactly but something underneath the skin that made the very bones of her arm tingle. More than anything it was incredibly annoying, but she also had no idea what it was supposed to mean, and she was positive that it meant something. She had previously looked into the magic behind the brand that was implanted on her arm, and while she’d learned enough to be able to remove it, she never actually got around to doing so, for which she was inwardly kicking herself now.

    She knew that the mark could be used to assist its maker in finding Sphynx and perhaps even keeping tabs on her, yet its maker had run off months ago. No one had heard a thing about him, and very thankfully she hadn’t seen even a wisp of banshee smoke. So why the sudden tinges? Well, now she knew why.

    Her eyes were low and she wore the smallest frown on her otherwise hard visage; for one who normally wore almost no expression, it was quite clear that she wasn’t pleased. This was the last scene that she expected to stumble upon as she made her way out of the city, back home after meetings at the guildhall, ones that actually must have meant something for she actually went to them today. She was starting to wish that she had simply stayed home today.

    Her eyes locked on his, the banshee who had been everything to her at one point of another; lover, ally, accomplice, adversary, attacker. She wasn’t prepared for this, and the reason for that she knew perfectly well; she never expected him to return from whatever hell he’d gone off to, or at least that was where she liked to think he had gone. But it had been ten months or so without a trace of the devil before her, and that was just enough time to begin to think that he may never come back. And yet here he was, standing before her in her city, in some sort of argument with city officials over stolen property. Well, no one we dead yet, so he can’t have been back long.

    “I can vouch for the fact that the item in question belongs, not to the boy, but the…man holding it.” She doubted very much, after displaying the weapon fully, that there was any question in the minds of those present to whom the object belonged, yet if she was able to speed along the process of moving people away from the scene before anything worse happened that would be all the better.

    “Uh, yes, council woman.” One of the peacekeepers, seemingly the bravest of the bunch, took a hesitant step towards her, keeping his head down as he spoke. “Many citizens find such items to be discomforting out and about on the street, and you know of the talk that goes back and forth on the topic of banning weapons inside city walls altogether…” His words grew quieter and quieter as he spoke until eventually they just trailed off, hoping that she was getting the message; now that they had all seen that this ‘scepter of metal’ wasn’t quite just a scepter, they were more than happy to forget they had ever seen it. The lance was making them all nervous. Sphynx gave the man the tiniest of looks that told him both that she understood his meaning and that she wasn’t a moron.

    “I’m sure that if we asked the man nicely that he would stow his weapon and be on his way.” The hint of ice in her eyes as she stared once more into his told the banshee exactly what she wanted, and what she was willing to do to get it. Andromalius was back, and all she wanted to do was get him out of her country. She hoped that this confrontation wouldn’t come to more than just talk, remembering all too well their last encounter that had escalated beyond talk. She’d healed just fine, thank you very much, and now the only sign she outwardly had of that fight was the tattoo still etched on her arm. Unless he’d suffered some mental and physical trauma that now rendered him helpless and without magic, she figured that and type of combat against each other now would end very much as it had ten months ago. Memories of times past would not be enough to stop her trying again if his intentions were anything other than the option she had just given him.
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    Andromalius
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    The familiar empathic spike from the bond the sorcerer and sorceress shared resounded at the base of his skull. It was a hatefully sour sensation, so he could have guessed who it was before she interrupted. Only one brand would resound as bitterly, and it belonged to Sphynx. Yet, he was unprepared when he turned his head to see her face through the crowd. She wore a frown, but she was as beautiful and untouchable as he remembered (and often reflected upon). This woman had made a great impact on his life. He'd tried to share everything with her, but the two had never been able to give one-another what they really needed. In the end, he'd beaten her down and cast her out from his tower like a used tool.

    Despite everything, he respected her greatly. Perhaps that was obvious, as his expression melted into one of silent terror beneath his hood. He'd begun to turn away, too – to run. There was no way she'd let him escape unharmed after what he'd done, last time they were together. Needless to say, Andromalius was more than a bit surprised to hear her vouch for him. He would stay... only until leaving wouldn't make a scene, and so he wiped that fragile look off his face by the time anyone pulled their attention away from the higher authority.

    “Err, my mistake. I have one jus' like it dat has been misplaced.” The thief was still putting on his best performance. While he didn't succeed in taking the lance, he could still escape capture, passing this all off as a simple misunderstanding. Of course, The Banshee King wouldn't let him get away so easily. He stared intensely at him instead until the thief accidentally made eye contact. That alone was enough to plant a seed of terror in his mind's eye. The fellow froze, his knees began to wobble, and the color fled from his cheeks as though he were seeing a ghost. Then, he began to cough and hack until doubling over to vomit. Andromalius took a careful step back – away from the spew, and tried to look worried about the thief.

    After one of the guards had conferred with his sultry superior, the Banshee caught the gist of what was to be done. Hearing her voice in reference to him was inciting, even as her tones dripped icicles and she never spoke directly to him. The corner of his lips could not resist the slightest of smiles as he switched the mechanism that would collapse the lance inward once more. Gingerly, he slid it into place at the back of his belt.

    “My thanks... Councilwoman...” That was her title these days, hmm? Between Isra's rebirth and this, she'd been a busy girl. “I'm not looking for trouble today, so I'll be off.” Andromalius wouldn't push his luck. It would be nice to stop and talk to her, but he didn't think she would be as fond of the idea. So he turned, and he continued towards the main gates, hesitating only for a few seconds.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    Her shock at seeing his initial reaction from him, a reaction that she neither expected nor understand, was visible in the form her widened eyes and raised eyebrows only for a brief moment before the expression was blinked away. Was he really trying to leave so easily; just like that? She honestly expected him to put up some kind of fight; even a verbal one would have put her more at ease. But to turn away was the last thing she expected to see, and it put her off more than she expected, though not quite as much as simply seeing him again.

    She had no idea what she was supposed to be feeling now that he had returned from wherever he’d gone off to. Maybe he’d never really left, but just had hidden away somewhere, though that was difficult to believe simply for that the fact that she knew he liked attention just as much as the next person. So what brought him back and why had he returned?

    Sphynx cared not an ounce for the petty thief, and she knew full well that was exactly what he was. She ignored him completely as he made his excuses, which were completely unnecessary to her; she wasn’t about to have the idiot arrested for failing to steal something, and for then being sick afterwards. Strange, but she was only half paying attention to him at that point, and really the sooner he hightailed it out of there the better in her opinion.

    Everyone present seemed a bit more at ease though as soon as the lance was retracted, even Sphynx herself, though she wasn’t about to fully let down her guard; she knew that the lance was the least of their worries with this one. Yet apparently not this time; he seemed more than ready to walk away. This day was just full of surprises. She stood there in the street for a few split seconds as her mind wrestled with itself. She could very easily just let him walk away, alert the Council that he was back, and hand out likenesses of his image to the city guard, not that she’d actually expect them to catch him doing anything against the law. But if that was what he had planned, and she was certain that he had some sort of plan, then she wanted to be the first to know about it. With a roll of her eyes, she took a few steps after Andromalius, glad that the crowd appeared to be dissipating now.

    “What are you doing here?” Her voice was quiet enough so that others present would understand that this conversation wasn’t meant for their ears. She wouldn’t admit it, but a small part of her was simply curious as to what he was doing, why he was back. The majority of her mind was screaming at her to figure out what he was up to and ensure that it had nothing to do with Soto, lest he wanted to spend some time in their jail, not that Soto had any prison that could hold him. Though she could probably consult the mage’s guild to come up with some sort of magical cell, that would really just mean more work for her. And she really didn’t like the idea of him being jailed inside city walls. He put her off her guard more thoroughly than she had been in many months, and she didn’t like that feeling one bit. She barely even noticed as she silently invoked all three of her magical shields at once; protection from physical, magical, and psychic attacks. If only she had one to protect emotions; she could have used it a year ago.
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    Andromalius
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    By the gods, seeing her face again set something to rising from the inside. As he casually placed one foot in front of the other, he let his mind run wild with restored, detailed memories and new fantasies. The curve of her hips, the softness of her skin, the fury of her fingernails... A shiver ran down his back like a bolt of electricity, causing him to nearly plow over a roaming citizen he hadn't been paying attention to. He caught himself, skipping a bit to maintain his balance, and also lashed out to catch the victim of his daydreaming by the back of her shirt before she took a tumble.

    “You idiot!” she spat at him, flailing her arms to knock the hooded man back. Andromalius growled and shoved past, quickening his pace. It all happened within Sphynx's line of sight. So that was what utter embarrassment felt like.

    The Banshee hadn't made it far, though, when he heard her voice in a whisper behind him. His pace slowed to a gradual stop, and for a moment, he simply stood with his back to her. So, despite herself, she'd pursued out of suspicion. What if everything he said to her sounded like a lie? What if she couldn't possibly believe that he was trying to be a better man? Would she try to detain him, being an authority figure? ...Would he end up continuously making a fool of himself in the middle of a busy street? He wanted to melt into the shadows and disappear. Yet, if she could ever forgive him... That would be worth sticking around for.

    “I was visiting a friend of mine,” At last, the sorcerer turned to face the sorceress. His eyes were deep and alert, but his disposition was solemn and serious. “She was informing me of that which has happened in my absence. Razarod.” He knew she wasn't ignorant. She probably knew more than he did at the moment. She was in a stupendous position for being one of the first to receive news.

    “Sphynx.” He needed to tell her before anything else left his mouth. “I'm sorry.” Cheap. Words were cheap. He looked left, looked right, and then in front of all the people, sank before her to his knees and bowed his head lowly. “I'm sorry. If you wish it, not only will I remove the binding spell, but you will have as much time as you like to tell me how I might possibly earn your forgiveness.”

    His shoulders rose and feel with a silent, deep sigh, then his head marginally rose so that he might meet her icy gaze. This was a far cry from the insane powerhouse in the Black Tower. He hoped it would be enough to express his sincerity, enough to plant a seed of doubt. He still loved the woman, even though he may never be in love with her.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    Her steps shadowed his silently. She didn’t want to let him out of her sight, but she didn’t rush to confront him or head him off either; unsure if that was because she wanted to give him a bit of space or if she wanted it for herself. From this viewpoint though she did have an excellent view of his misstep, but it didn’t even seem comical under the current circumstances. Perhaps she did feel the smallest bit of satisfaction at seeing him run into someone, nearly fall over, and annoy someone other than herself in the process, (maybe there was some human in him after all), but she didn’t break even the smallest of smiles, and the incident was forgotten the moment he spoke.

    “Yes, a tragedy.” Her eyes twitched slightly at the mention of Razarod’s name, almost as if she was trying to hold back the eye roll that the entire subject gave her. She didn’t know if he was referring to the fact that Razarod was murdered or that he’d faked his death and was very much alive and that she’d spoken to him just the day before. At this moment in time though, she believed that there were very few people who knew that he hadn’t been killed, so she kept her response obscure enough. Besides, the former king of Angkar had nothing to do with the real conversation happening here.

    She felt the tiny pinpricks of goosebumps rise up on her arms at his apology, almost as if her emotional guard was beginning to take a physical form. From the moment she saw him, she wasn’t angry at him, she didn’t know what she felt at first. But now, with one little word, she suddenly found that she had to restrain herself from slapping him across the face as her eyes narrowed. Sorry? What did that even mean, and did he know? Maybe he could explain to her how that one little word was meant to erase the things that people did to each other, and there was nothing even half as cruel as what another person could do to you.

    She respected him, certainly. She knew far too much about what he could do, and likely there was plenty more there underneath that he hadn’t allowed her to see, not to respect him and the power that he held. But she had never fully trusted him, and what trust of hers he had once gained he tossed right back at her, broken into a hundred little pieces, pieces that may not be assembled again. Part of that had been her fault, and she’d accepted that at one point in time. One can’t get trust without giving it in return. But was this display of humility supposed to just expunge all of that? And even if he truly did want forgiveness, for everything, if his words weren’t some farce to get back on her good side, then how on Elenlond was she supposed to give that?

    “Get up.” Her words were fairly even as her arms found themselves crossing in front of her in as closed off body language that she knew. “Why do I feel like every word you say is bullshit?” Her broken bones had healed in the year or so that it had been since he’d broken them, but other wounds took far longer. Time can’t heal everything, no matter what some people say.

    “By what right do you have to ask for my forgiveness?” It wasn’t just their last encounter, but everything else that had happened since he’d left was also his fault in some way. Picking up the pieces in Morrim she did because of him, in defiance in a way for tossing her aside. Storming the Black Tower and destroying the Eye of Zanna she felt she had to do because she’d been the one to help him activate it, and she still had ugly scars along one arm from that battle; the wounds of a chimera weren’t quite so easily healed. The only thing that she’d done in the past year because she truly wanted to was run for the Sotoan council, and yet he still found himself in her city.
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    Andromalius
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    Kneeling didn't really suit him either, so he rose. The empathy absorbed through the connection of the brand was like the slow sinking of broken metal pieces through his flesh, into his tendons, and finally settling in his organs so that every time he had to breath to speak, he'd feel a sharp increase pain. Ah, but where would he be without this familiar ache? He took the thrilling sensation of her anger and her anguish, then he placed it with the others in the monstrous, growing force that was the source of his power.

    “Rights are man-made concepts. It doesn't concern me what others say I can and cannot do. I will try to make amends. I will give it my best attempt. This is my intention. Whether or not you believe me will be inconsequential soon because I will either have failed or succeeded.” The dead man smiled a little and nodded. “You and I will just have to wait and find out.”

    He took a casual step back, reaching up to tug his hood down far enough to cast shadow over the top half of his face. “I really should be leaving, though. I've spent far too much time in the city as it is. I don't know if you just didn't want to bother trying to arrest me, but thanks the same for your assistance.”

    But before he tried to cast off completely, cerulean eyes darted to the place on the woman's arm, where it rested pressed against the side of her breast. “When- If you're ever all savvy with a bit of harmless physical contact, I'd be delighted to remove that mark of yours. I'm sure it hasn't been a fondly thought-of memento for you.”


    (( It is short... But I rly didn't want to write anything else. Nothing belonged and I want an answer before doing anything else. ))
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    “Ha, no, it never has concerned you what others say you can and cannot do, has it? You may not be a man, but you choose to live in a world of men, so you’d better get used to living by their rules and concepts or you can go back to wherever you’ve been for the past year.”

    She gave no mention of her reasons for helping him. They were her own, and he no longer had any claim to her mind, not that she’d ever fully let him in there. But for a time, she thought that she could, and she actually wanted to, which almost never happened. There was a reason that she kept things so closed off from the rest of the world, and all he’d done was remind her of why.

    “Forgiveness is also a man-made concept, is it not? Then why does it matter to you if you get that from me or not? Or is there something inside you that does have feelings after all?” Her eyes were narrowed only slightly as she stared into the shadow of his face where his eyes would be if they weren’t covered by his hood. Her voice was quiet and level enough that it didn’t betray the anger building inside of her. She didn’t even know where all of it was coming from, but in this moment at least she wanted nothing more than to rage at the thing that stood before her. Sometimes a person just needs to be angry for a time before moving past the thing that made them angry in the first place.

    “And as for this mark that you’ve so graciously given me, I so appreciate the offer. Actually, I’m free right now, at this very moment, if you’d be so kind.” Instantly she was holding out her arm and drawing up her sleeve, showing the brand to the world. The physical contact she could stand if that was the price for its removal. She didn’t even care that they were still in the middle of the street in the capitol city, or that she’d learned enough in her time at the Black Tower and in her research since leaving that place to remove the mark herself. Why she hadn’t were also her own reasons, though partially because she had wanted to learn if it did anything else. But if was willing to remove, then she would by all means oblige him.
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    Andromalius
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    He smiled pleasantly enough as he replied with a slight gesture from his right hand, “Men may think the world belongs to them, but I believe we all must share it. You may have your walls and your palaces, but the Fae have the woods, the dragons have the mountains and the sky, and the fish have the sea. I will yet find my place in it.” The sorcerer wondered, for a moment, if his respect had been misplaced. Or, perhaps she was only pushing to establish dominance, regardless of the truths behind her words. Surely, as a former goddess, she could comprehend the futility of staking claim to something as big and great as the entire world. It was like a child calling themselves “king of the playground”.

    His smile grew marginally when the necromancer accused him of having feelings, and of forgiveness also being a misconception. She was wrong in the latter. Even dogs were capable of coming back around to their master after a beating, for instance. He'd never say that to Sphynx, knowing full well she would not understand the comparison between her situation and a canine without taking offense.

    Andromalius returned to the woman when she extended her arm. He casually glanced around as he did, hoping no one was watching or knew what that mark with the coiled serpent meant. During the conquest, his armies had carried banners baring that symbol in white on black. Those who had seen their approach to the battlefield would not likely forget.

    He bit down on the fingertip of the glove on his left hand before casually drawing it out of its confinement. As he took it from his mouth, he rested the cold, bare skin of his palm upon the soft inside of Sphynx's arm. It was a quick process, and it'd only become easier with time. While he worked, he kept his eyes down on what he was doing. “So. Are you satisfied as a counselor? Does it satiate your desire for control?” It seemed like idle talk, but it was relevant. He wanted to know because he was aiming for the same general gig, and he wondered if it would be enough once he had it. The phantom was hoping that he would be too busy to let his head roll off his shoulders.

    When he was finished, his gaze flicked back up to her, now able to be seen from such closeness, no matter the hood. He peeled his pale hand away without making any sort of trouble, and gingerly pulled his glove back on. If she were to look, she would see that the brand was gone without a trace. Andromalius could no longer feel her bitterness, and it was a relief. He found it much easier to talk with and look at her.
    Edited by Andromalius, Dec 6 2011, 09:56 AM.
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