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Rectifying

Discussion in 'The Hooded Crow Inn [Fiction]' started by Bryelle Vaughn, Jul 21, 2011.

  1. Bryelle Vaughn

    Bryelle Vaughn Journeyman
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    Time meant nothing, was nothing here. Without form her essence shifted, bending and twisting with the will of the well. Seamlessly oblivion connected itself to her but did not encompass. Here the entropic winds writhed and swirled along side her. Images and fragments were less picturesque and more impressionistic. Standing in front of the well at the Scholomance. The ritual to restore the injured pieces of her being.... and then emptiness.

    Mortals looked on their lives as though there were purpose. Bryelle knew better. Life had no purpose. It was a curiosity, something to fill in a blank space while waiting. The only divine law was that of Oblivion and the well that served it so dutifully. Thus she herself was a servant of the servant. There was no fan fair, no huge bell rung. A command...

    “You will retrieve.. what is ours.” Hissed upon the entropic winds she would obey.

    Tendrils of smoke billowed and curled as the slipped from the well much like vapors of a fire as it begins to ignite. Looks could be deceiving. The breeze that contained her began to form itself beyond the Well. Nearly transparent the black orbs that gazed out into the cave closed, channeling the power and the focus into her form. Toes, a calf, one whole leg, a hip..half a stomach, fingers and so forth took their rightful place. Solid mass being pulled from the Well itself to sustain her, she pulled from it, her hand extended.

    “Walk in Darkness.”
     
  2. WarderDragon

    WarderDragon Babbling Loonie
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    ...his pale lids part...a haunting stare peering up into the black...
     
  3. Bryelle Vaughn

    Bryelle Vaughn Journeyman
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    The ebony cloak had always been there, even when blood and bone made up her mass the color of shadow had been a trademark. Empty black orbs scanned the cavern floor as she began to walk once more. Noiseless step after noiseless step she ascended. She paid no heed to the rotting flesh and the bone knights who walked these halls. They in turn paid no attention to her. Death knights were temporary...

    Up.. through the walls.. through the passageways.. emerging in sunlight she hissed at its contrasting brightness. It was not uncomfortable but rather an inconvenience. The black edge of silence removed as entropy sang in her wispy tendrils..

    The Well was speaking..