Post by ExlMagician on Aug 19, 2011 9:07:27 GMT -8
Ash particles drifting down from the craggy mountain sides like huge grey cotton balls slide through the air, heavy, to land on Balok's cloak, flapping in the wind. The heavy flakes of toxic ash weighed down the fabric, but the high winds and chilled temperatures whipped at the face as Balok crouched down, resting his arms on his knees to peer over the deadly precipice at the villages and contours of life down below. Little did they know what stood above, or did they? Felswoop was notorious for ill tidings and wrong doings. A land of criminals and thieves that plagued the land like worms through an apple. The smell of death drifted down from the mountainside, sulfur and dust. Tipping his head up to the wind, eyelids closed, the mornequenta shoved back his hood, letting the snowflakes of grey kiss his face. The feeling was strange,.... warm. Rising up, he began to once again ascend the mountain side, leaving the tiny little valley far below. There was something far better in mind for a place so use to the terrors of every day criminals.
Filing through spires that rose up toward the skin, he slipped like a shadow cat round the swirling passes and up the impassable wall. Fingertips, calloused and well versed sought out the hand holds and crevasses that gave way up the mountain, the leather bound archer's gloves hugging the stone and permitting access to places where others who might follow would fall to their death. All the years of raiding and murder, sexual misconduct, and the like... this place was a plague unto its self. Though each thing in turn was part of his own repertoire, he was a villain. A shadow in the light that caused darkness wherever he stepped and was the thing of nightmares. Perhaps it was time that these people, too, feared the reaper.
Mounting a crag and entering into the clouds that clung to the sides of these mountains, the visage of evil was now wrapped in the embrace of grey and mottled black. The cloth that had been used to wrap his mouth, keeping out the fumes of the immense palisade, was pulled away by the viral winds that ripped and pulled at the body. The entire mountain was alive with anger, ready to be rid of the grabbing hands that climbed her sides. The riding cloak was twisted and pulled, ripping away from his face, the hood too was pulled away exposing him to the edge. The swirling pass below barely visible between the openings of sulfur clouds. Pulling him to the edge like a siren, the city below beckoned him, as did the free air and open space. The living stone beneath him would want nothing more as it shuttered and shook beneath his boots, sending stone to do its deed.
Stone came racing toward his back, willing to bring him down over the side with them to a free falling death, but as a wrath, Balok spun, sliding beneath the overhang of the mountain and watching as they tumbled to their doom, calling his name. His cloak moved like smoke wings behind him, pulling from the sheath that rest hidden in the backside of his left boot, a dagger that had hadn't graced air for many a year. This was the time and the place, and the dark stone beneath his feet urged him on as he stepped to the edge, arms outstretched before leaning with the power of a titan to stab into the stone beneath his feet, the very edge of this mountain.
Rumbling and shaking, a tribulation of water spit forth, as he ripped away the dagger. The whole of the earth was shaking beneath him, the very mountain threatening to encase the valley below but rather and waterfall of death. Avalanche and flood came pouring down, taking in each niche of stone before racing down to encompass all beneath its water fingers reaching out to take it. The sage dagger of flood, slide silently back into its sheath, hidden away as Balok once again returned to edge, resting a hand above the water to watch it as it ravaged and scored both rock and earth alike. So violent was their death... He stayed the water only after it had taken in its vengeful grasp more than half the green and roof tops below, sliding into the mountain side to disappear along its shadowed cliffs.
(closed)
Filing through spires that rose up toward the skin, he slipped like a shadow cat round the swirling passes and up the impassable wall. Fingertips, calloused and well versed sought out the hand holds and crevasses that gave way up the mountain, the leather bound archer's gloves hugging the stone and permitting access to places where others who might follow would fall to their death. All the years of raiding and murder, sexual misconduct, and the like... this place was a plague unto its self. Though each thing in turn was part of his own repertoire, he was a villain. A shadow in the light that caused darkness wherever he stepped and was the thing of nightmares. Perhaps it was time that these people, too, feared the reaper.
Mounting a crag and entering into the clouds that clung to the sides of these mountains, the visage of evil was now wrapped in the embrace of grey and mottled black. The cloth that had been used to wrap his mouth, keeping out the fumes of the immense palisade, was pulled away by the viral winds that ripped and pulled at the body. The entire mountain was alive with anger, ready to be rid of the grabbing hands that climbed her sides. The riding cloak was twisted and pulled, ripping away from his face, the hood too was pulled away exposing him to the edge. The swirling pass below barely visible between the openings of sulfur clouds. Pulling him to the edge like a siren, the city below beckoned him, as did the free air and open space. The living stone beneath him would want nothing more as it shuttered and shook beneath his boots, sending stone to do its deed.
Stone came racing toward his back, willing to bring him down over the side with them to a free falling death, but as a wrath, Balok spun, sliding beneath the overhang of the mountain and watching as they tumbled to their doom, calling his name. His cloak moved like smoke wings behind him, pulling from the sheath that rest hidden in the backside of his left boot, a dagger that had hadn't graced air for many a year. This was the time and the place, and the dark stone beneath his feet urged him on as he stepped to the edge, arms outstretched before leaning with the power of a titan to stab into the stone beneath his feet, the very edge of this mountain.
Rumbling and shaking, a tribulation of water spit forth, as he ripped away the dagger. The whole of the earth was shaking beneath him, the very mountain threatening to encase the valley below but rather and waterfall of death. Avalanche and flood came pouring down, taking in each niche of stone before racing down to encompass all beneath its water fingers reaching out to take it. The sage dagger of flood, slide silently back into its sheath, hidden away as Balok once again returned to edge, resting a hand above the water to watch it as it ravaged and scored both rock and earth alike. So violent was their death... He stayed the water only after it had taken in its vengeful grasp more than half the green and roof tops below, sliding into the mountain side to disappear along its shadowed cliffs.
(closed)