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To Sail Amid The Seas Of Fate - Jorimel's Eldar Rp

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Jorimel, Jan 31, 2015.

  1. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    Avrielle gasped. Alo had punched himself square in the face. She quickly stifled the sound but her eyes betrayed her shock. Onvar stood beside him, just out of sword's reach, close enough should he be needed but allowing him space. As a fellow Aspect he knew well the pains that could come when a warrior left his War-self behind, but this - it did not seem to be the pain of Khaine's touch. There was something poisoned in the hurt, like a wound that had become infected. Like such a wound, it would need to be drained and cleaned, but - letting one's own blood was the way of Commorrites. Self-reflection was healthy, self-flagellation was not. Wisely, Onvar held back on both his judgement and intervening, but the words of the Exarchs could not help but come to mind.

    As fast as Alo grieved his fate, so there was a small yet steady stream of Eldar who seemed to defy his assessment. Several had offered to help him. From the wild ex-Sky Serpent to the gentle radiotech, and now the persistent trader-princess. Firnweth was not easily dissuaded. Her eyes showed mirth without malice. And, perhaps, a hint of the steel within. Was the Winterheart set on a frozen course? Firnweth had decided to crack the ice.

    Avrielle breathed a little more easily and squeezed Talis' hand as he sought to comfort her. She didn't turn around to watch the progress of the talk, but just the thought that someone was apeaking to Alo seemed to calm her.

    "We all care about him," she said, quietly, "even if he thinks we do not. He is one of us." She looked up at Talis and tried a small smile. "Meanwhile we have to remember why we're here. And ... stay strong, even as Kurnous when he despaired of ever finding what he sought."

    Maesanai had a plan and a sense of action that would not be denied. Her sister-in-arms was not going to allow her to be the only one to forge ahead, and so Vella and the Sky-Rider made their way to the only intact building with a view to seeing what they might find.

    Inside, the air was cooler and the shade a blessed relief, even to one wearing the self-adjusting Aspect suit. The Reaper and the Rider could see the drifts of sand that had blown into the building had obscured a fine mosaic floor, composed of yellow and pale grey tiles in an artful, abstract pattern. The walls were protected from the worst the desert could do, and on two sides and the wall showed a delicate frieze of flowers and arching sky. The ceiling itself was the pale blue of Asuryan's eyes. The far wall, even as the small chamber in the rocky pass to the Exodite village, showed a single male Eldar figure. He was surrounded by a beautiful, lush garden - were Faenkon to see it, it would remind him of the gardens on the Hope of Eldanesh. The two women hadn't seen that ancient vessel, but it reminded any Eldar versed in tales of their past of the pleasure-gardens and artful plesaunces that might surround a noble's mansion. The figure was poised, athletic, handsome in a timeless and classical way. He held an armful of lilies on his left side, and wore a tall crown decorated with flowers and a plume of feathers. There were no inscriptions, but where the sand had nibbled away at the fresco there were traces of an earlier painting.

    The sand yielded nothing save a few scattered bits and pieces of strangely domestic debris. It was as if the last Eldar to be here were holding a picnic or informal banquet. There were chips of pottery and glass, little fragments of nutshells, hard seeds and even some small animal bones. Here and there lay a button, a bead, a jewel. No great treasure; and yet, a curious combination of things to find here.

    At the same time as Vella's keen combat senses caught the trace of something unusual, Maesanai's gloved hand brushed aside the last grains of sand from a rock that stood out from the rest. It was a stone with a slightly raised edge. Nothing ventured ... it yielded easily to the butt of the Wild Rider's spear and, with a grinding click, an opening in the floor yawned at the Lord of Lilies' feet.

    Outside, Faenkon sent his drone for a final reconnaissance and at last found something more pertinent than dried-up wells and weedling plants. A single, gold-cased gem, such as a fashionable Eldar might wear - if they were from the time of the Ancients he had seen aboard the Hope. It was a single gem, heliotrope, simple and lovely but the setting was overly fancy. Though there was one thing the Ranger could appreciate beyond the prettiness - its setting opened up, holding a small compartment with a roughened pad of metal and a small stick of hard stone. A fire-striker.

    As he contemplated it, he could see Lysandriax go over to the aloof form of Iktomi, still perched and skylining on his arch. She looked up; he looked down. Some kind of conversation passed between them. The Ranger could not hear it from so far, and he refrained from lip-reading. But Alo, after all, was not the only one grieving the loss of a future he could not have. Life was seldom simple for the Children of Kurnous and Isha. But, though it had not saved him, perhaps the sword of their firstborn would bring them all a better future.

    @kanila @DaKaptin @Wata @Colapse @Kalle @BlackNecron @BadDo9 @Casavay
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  2. Kal Kalle Arkhona Vanguard

    "Absolutely not, Sister! You are very welcome to join me, though you'll forgive me if I admit I'm surprised you choose to! No matter! Let's see what these ruins hold!" Maesanai exclaimed, flashing Vella one of her grins and leading the way through the little town, cutting directly towards the roofed building. As they entered, the Wild Rider's keen eye swept the interior. "Don't be so quick to be discouraged, Vella! We may yet find something..." Maesanai mused, inspecting the building's decorations, the frescos, along with the litter piling on the floor. Spotting a strange stone, Maesanai reached to touch. She frowned, then a glint of adventure returned to her eye, and she pressed the butt of her spear against the stone. It yielded, and the path ahead revealed itself. Maesanai glanced aside to Vella. "See?! Let the others know! We may be on the right trail!"
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  3. Talis smiled back at Avrielle, though his was also a sad one and his eyes reflected such. He looked around for the saurid a moment, placing his hand on its back while just holding Avrielle's hand with his other. "Perhaps he was not the most pleasant to me but.. I do not wish him this. I would not wish anyone this." he told the female, stroking the back of her hand with a thumb while they thought.
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  4. Wata Wata Arkhona Vanguard

    Alo stared at her. He felt like he was being mocked, played with. Just like Maesanai had before. He was not fond of this if it were a running theme.
    "How nice that I can be the common joke for you all to share. Got more quips to hurl at me with that sharp noble wit?" Alo said through a snarl, words coated with angry poison, he yanked the cloth off her hands and wiped his lip. He leaned back and sighed, avoided eye contact and shook his head. His anger had cooled before it could boil over, something was changing without him knowing it.

    "Just...I just need new something. I can't go on like this...she was all that I..."
    Alo wrung his fist into his palm, he clenched his jaw and stared the ground, as if Firnweth wasn't even there.

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  5. kanila kanila Subordinate

    "Well well well, a little treasure. And quite handy at that." Faenkon said to himself as he fastened the compartment hiding gem to his belt behind a sash. He didn't much care for the flashy design, but the practicality made it a worthy adornment.

    Making his way inside the building he joined the two others already inside in silence. His path made it easy to blend in to his surroundings, but with so little around him he stuck out in contrast. Not so much as a visual oddity but more of a social one. As the aspect warrior fought his own internal struggle, the others flocked to assist. While Faenkon kept his mind elsewhere, always avoiding the social where he could. Such was the path of the Ranger, that for him to attempt anything else would feel alien and unnatural.
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