Tii
Junior Member
Posts: 61
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Post by Tii on Jan 16, 2010 1:10:44 GMT -5
It seemed that more and more, the Ramr was his destination. Za’lyyr stood at its side, a small smile pulling to his lips as he thought. The river was a survivor of its own kind. The Hadarac Desert was coming in on the East, but it wouldn’t claim the river. No, it stayed strong in the midst of everything. Strong. What a word… the translation of ramr from the Ancient Language to English. How very appropriate. The waters coursed by their own accord, moving through the land at the pace it saw fit. No one would tell it what to do. Unless, of course, you were an elf by the name of Za’lyyr, who liked to play world in ways he maybe shouldn’t have.
It was often that he found himself near the river and the few pieces of vegetation that surrounded it. If it was up to him, he would have long since headed north or west past Dras-Leona, Belatona, or to the Spine. Maybe to the South, where he’d find Furnost. There were lakes and trees and all kinds of things. There were no buildings and guards there. Part of him just wished the whole world would drop off the map and just leave him alone. Maybe he’d be able to talk the land into trusting him again… maybe he could find a way to apologize for violating its rules if he was the only one there was to talk to. Maybe that’s what he was really seeking at the Ramr, some sort of redemption. He didn’t care what the people thought of him… but he cared what the natural world thought.
” Kvertha, fricai” ”Hello, friend.” He said to the Ramr as he approached. He took the rushing water as a greeting. At least it tolerated his presence. As he walked, he pulled at the buttons down his well fit tunic. It was soon shed from his shoulders and folded, taking its place on large rock that was surrounded by dry grasses. He would later dry his breeches, that would be simple enough. As always, his feet were already bare. Unless there was something formal he was to attend, he would have rather let his feet keep constant contact with the ground. It made him feel like he was a part of something.
The river was deep and the current pulled hard, but with a word from his mouth the waters were calmed… they allowed him to step into the water and move to the center of the river. His head bobbed above the surface before eventually disappearing beneath the water. The water wasn’t very clear, but the cool temperature felt good against his skin. His hair floated around him, like a cloud of darkness over his head. When his lungs felt like they were near explosion, he surfaced, filling his lungs with the air. He waded above the water and looked around, grinning at the way the rough water rushed around him, leaving him in a small, calm little section.
”Adurna, rïsa.” Water, rise. It was only a few moments before there was movement that started under the water. He felt it wrapping around him and slowly lifting him upwards. It was an act he’d been performing for a decent amount of time now. It looked like a tail as he moved up, the jets pushing him. He felt a slight dull of his energy as he forced the water upward, around him. It was an incredible feeling. He imagined that it was somewhere between flying and floating. It was only a guess though, after all, he hadn’t the slightest idea about flying. The bubbling jets of water coaxed a laugh from his throat. How was it he found himself so free?
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Post by Angmor on Jan 27, 2010 23:34:15 GMT -5
It was at times like these that Kyemen especially enjoyed flying. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon hours ago, and yet he did not feel the slightest bit tired. The spring night was warm, and the wind of Sierthra’s swift passage felt like a pleasant shower against his skin. Far below, the ground was a sable carpet of black velvet, broken only by a twisting vein of reflected moonlight, and the muted orange glow of a fishing village some miles behind them. The sky was as clear as he had ever seen it, almost seeming to be alive with twinkling stars. Shutting his eyes, he let the steady throbbing of his dragon’s wings become the cadence of his heart, the rise and fall of his perch on her back become the pattern of his breathing. It was times like these where he understood Sierthra’s feelings completely. This was where he belonged, up here in the sky, not on the troubled, dying earth below. Let those pitiful earthbound beings wage their wars and destroy each other, what did he care? He was a lord of the sky, with few to rival him but his own kind. But then he remembered, as he always did, what he was. This power had been given to him as a gift. He had not earned it by any reason of merit. Who was he to claim lordship over anything? An elf cast out by his family, and with no accomplishments to his name other than that of Sierthra choosing him as her Rider? No, he still had a hundred years of ignorance and cowardice to atone for. He would defend the world below him with his life, and saving as many lives as he possibly could, because otherwise his life wasn’t worth living.
Kyemen? You alright? [/Color] He woke with a start at the sound of Sierthra’s thoughts. He hadn’t realized that he had drifted off. He chuckled softly, settling into a more comfortable position in the saddle. I’m fine, Sierthra.[/Color] He answered, leaning forward to pat her scaly neck. Reaching back along their connection, he was surprised to find the edges of her thoughts starting to blur together with fatigue, with only muscle memory driving the action of her wings. She was about ready to fall asleep herself. Gods, no wonder. They had only left Du Weldenvarden that morning, and they had not landed since then. I just don't have a lot to do up here. How about we land and I carry you around for a change? Mm, I'll pass. Not a very smooth ride.[/Color] She said, rumbling deep in her throat in a tired draconian chuckle. Still, thanks for the offer...[/Color] She yawned mightily, letting Kyemen catch the moonlight glinting off her fangs. Let's strike a compromise and call it a night, then. I'm tired, and I can't feel my legs. And you've been the one doing all the work… No, we can keep going… No. I'm not just saying this for just your welfare, either. You're about ready to drop out of the sky. You have to admit, I have a personal stake as well. A very selfish person, am I.[/color] Sierthra actually giggled at that, surprising her Rider. He had never seen her quite that... girly. Ok, I'll stop.[/Color] She said at last, her mirth subsiding into little coughing sounds in the back of her throat. When I'm laughing that hard at something that's so unfunny... And using words like unfunny... Gods, I can't even talk now. It's definitely time to stop flying. I'm glad you see it my way.[/Color] Kyemen chuckled, smiling to himself at having seen a part of Sierthra that he had never seen before. Besides, if that was Bullridge we passed a few minutes ago, then you've very nearly flown halfway across Alagaesia in one day. That's not at all shabby. I know...[/Color] She sighed, and Kyemen felt the friction of the air start to slow them down as the action of her wings slackened. But the summit starts in three days, and I wanted to be there early.We'll be fine.[/i][/Color] Kyemen assured her. We'll take a lighter pace tomorrow, and get into Feinster the morning of the day after that. Any idea sounds good to me right now, so I guess you're right. I'm too tired to argue with you even if I wanted to, anyway.[/Color] Moving in a lazy circle, she slowly began to lose altitude, leaving Kyemen to search for a suitable landing area in a routine that they had practiced thousands of times before. After a few minutes, they settled on a small clearing in the scruffy trees on western side of the river, one large enough to accommodate Sierthra's wings, yet small enough to provide shelter. Finally, her powerful wings beating the loam of the forest floor into a whirlwind, Sierthra set her claws on the earth for the first time in fourteen hours. Kyemen hurriedly leapt from her back and set about removing the saddle and baggage from her, mindful of her eyelids sinking lower and lower each second. Almost before he had all the tackle removed, she had settled her head on the ground and was asleep. Kyemen watched her for a few moments, smiling. Here was a being that he had personally seen rip men in half, and who could move through the sky faster than any bird of prey, and yet she could still curl up in a tight ball and sleep like an infant. He shook his head. Dragons were truly amazing creatures. After a few moments of listening to the night noises in the forest around him, he set out to explore their landing site. Having taken the same route many times before, he had agreed with Sierthra beforehand that they would try never to land in the same place twice. All it took was the Empire setting a single trap for them at a place where they'd been, and they could be in big trouble. While he knew this was prudent, it made it so that it was always a new experience whenever they stopped to rest. Quieting his breathing, he moved through the trees as silently as a wisp of smoke, his feet instinctively avoid dry bracken and fallen branches. It seemed his elven woodcraft was still with him, then, even after all this time. Here and there he would stop and open his mind, making tight mental sweeps to search for telltale traces of another sentient mind. He found nothing but the hidden animals of the patch of forest, all invariably ranging from curiosity to terror at the rumour of Sierthra's landing. Nothing new there. After a few moments, he came on the edge of the forest. Ten feet in front of him, the river rushed onward toward its final destination far to the south, its voice soothing to his ears. Warily, Kyemen scanned the open ground to either side, looking for anything at all that looked out of place, patiently letting his eyes adjust to the moonlight after coming out of the relative darkness of the trees. Nothing stirred, not even a breath of wind. Satisfied, he stepped onto the bank, feeling the damp ground give a little under his boots. He inhaled deeply, savoring the clean, earthy smell. Already he felt the stiffness of his muscles relaxing. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about the sound of moving water that was soothing to the soul. Moving right to the river's edge, he lay down on his stomach, lowering his head to the water so he could drink his fill. He had emptied his water skin earlier that day, and hadn't realized how thirsty he was until that moment... He tensed, eyes widening. There was another face in the water beside the reflection of his own, and it definitely wasn't Sierthra.[/size][/blockquote]
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Tii
Junior Member
Posts: 61
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Post by Tii on Feb 2, 2010 2:07:54 GMT -5
Za’lyyr closed his eyes and felt the recession of the waters around him. The wordless magic was put to an end and he felt the water slowly recede from around him and into the main body of water which it rushed to join. He felt its energy; it tugged at him and soaked into his body. It reminded him of how vey inconsequential he was. What was a single elf to the mountains, or the woods of the North? What was he to the waters he swam through? He had to magically hold the waters back to keep from battling them to the solid ground at the banks. He felt powerful among men, but in these places, in the real world, he was nothing; little more than the specks of sand and dust that were carried by the wind and blown in every direction on a whim. He was at its mercy; that he would never forget.
His palms pressed into the earth as he hoisted himself onto the shore. He was nimble in his movement, arms easily supporting his weight while he pulled himself into place. The water running down his body mingled with the semi-dry dirt and was immediately soaked in and consumed by the thirsty land. The elf didn’t try to dry himself, or rush the water as it dripped from his body. He could let it take its course and meander as it saw fit. With his feet firmly planted, he smiled down at his toes and wiggled them, letting the earth move up between them, accompanied by some sparse grass. His eyes were averted back to the Ramr. It only made his smile grow. ”Elrun ono, bróðir.” Thank you, brother. He fell into his typical silence, just listening to the sounds presented to him by the world around him. If there was something to fall in love with, that surely was it. There was nothing more pure and perfect. Too bad the earth wouldn’t have him.
Za’lyyr would be camping out that night. He was on the way back to the capital from the edges of Du Weldenvarden. He may not have been welcome inside, but that forest meant more to him than any person would. There were samples in his pack, already prepared for studying. He began with some spell-weaving himself, attempting to work past the rotting wood and dying leaves. It was a slow and labors some process. It didn’t take much of his energy, but it just took time. He sat in the sun, beside the river, examining the pieces of bark and saplings. His eyebrows spent a good amount of time knit as he stared, the Ancient Language flowing from his mouth. ”Hversu ach eka veita ono?” How do I help you?
As the night reigned over the land, he found himself lying on his back on the sparse grasses. They were somehow still soft beneath his back. The grasses sprung up around the outlines of his body, surrounding him in their presence. His tunic was once again draped and tied over his body, forming against his lithe frame and keeping the light nip of cold away from him. The temperature seemed to be perfect beyond that. He found himself silently thanking the Ramr again for retaining the heat of the sun and providing him with it at night. He soaked it in as his eyes closed and he let his conscious spread out across the plains. He could feel the little animals, the lizards hiding beneath the sand, and the snakes that slithered between the still warm rocks.
He wasn’t sure if he heard the sound or felt the brush on his conscious first. His ear perked at the noise that came from far off. He quickly withdrew his mind, not wanting to give himself away. There was only one thing that displaced so much air and made that kind of noise. Nature was standing on edge with its presents. The air whispered in his ears, telling him the sing word that he was already thinking. Skulbaka. It echoed around in him head. Immediately he began running through the Empire’s dragons and their riders, as well as where they were to be at that moment of time. His eyes opened quickly when he came to a realization. This was a rider of the Varden. He was silent and quick as he moved to pick up his belongings, including his pack. It was thrown over his back as he moved. His eyes glanced to the imprint of his body in the grass. Ancient words moved through his mind and the grasses sprung up, as if they had never been disturbed by his weight.
A moment later he was moving quickly, to a ridge with rocks jutting from the crown. He was soon behind them and throwing his pack off. A long eleven bow was untied from his sack. It was tall and beautifully crafted. The moon light reflected off of the smooth and shining finish. There were lines in it that reflected like mercury. They were attributed to the type of wood, one pulled from deep inside the forest. He called it live wood, like it breathed even while it was in his hand. He remained crouched behind the rocks for quite a time, suddenly grateful for the endurance of his body, without it he would have been sore.
Movement caught his eyes. He’d watched the dragon fall from the sky and into the forested surroundings. It had to be the rider. There was no way he wasn’t. Za’lyyr remained silent as he watched, mentally patting himself on the back for covering his tracks. He learned better than to leave an imprint of himself on the land. It could spell the end of him if he left any sort of clue as to his existence. Especially with a dragon and rider. There were few he would shy away from when it came to a fight. He knew better though. He knew he couldn’t hold his own against that type of pair. He might have had a chance against a lone rider, but along with his partner, Za’lyyr knew he wouldn’t stand a chance. Perhaps a young pair, ones that didn’t know how to handles themselves… But any with a viable amount of experience would spell his end. That he knew.
He would not run though. The oncoming Council meant a certain degree of neutrality had to be maintained. He hoped that they would maintain that idea. Za’lyyr wasn’t about to let the rider walk away. There would be another day to fight, and he needed to know that if he was ever found so vulnerable again, Za’lyyr would not think twice about taking advantage of the situation. This was a warning. If he was going to kill a rider, he would do it in a real fight. There wasn’t a sound as he knocked an arrow onto the string. He didn’t pull the string back, not yet. Slowly, he moved from behind the rocks. His footfalls were silent. The elf had never returned his soft leather shoes to his feet. He was more nimble without them. As he moved closer, his bow was raised and the taut string drawn back in time with a deep inhaled breath. He wasn’t far behind the other man now. The moonlight glinted against his arrow, which lay in perfect trajectory to an exposed, soft neck. He now recognized the rider as an elf. Surely, by now, his presence had been detected.
“Ono eru aí langr vegr frá du Varden.” You are a long way from the Varden. He wished, more than anything, that he could have loosed the arrow that he held. But he couldn’t. This rider could thank Galbatorix for his life, the man that had given his orders. He could only kill those without worth as the Council trudged forward. There was no disobeying an order. The rider didn’t need to know any of that though. As a precaution, iron guards had been set around his mind, sealing him off from an attack. Hopefully it would be enough if he needed to defend himself. ”Rïsa, Shur’tugal. ”
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Post by Angmor on Feb 3, 2010 21:49:25 GMT -5
“Ono eru aí langr vegr frá du Varden.” The face said in a low, sonorous rumble, with the sort of musical pronunciation that only an elf could achieve. And yet, the threatening tone within the words was unmistakable. Unable to see by the reflection in the running water in front of him, he slowly turned his head, fraction by fraction, until he could just make out the figure out of the corner of his eye. There was no denying it, his assailant was an elf. The severe, high-cheekboned face made certain of that, even without the pointed tips of his ears just visible in the moonlight. His hair was dark, like Kyemen’s own, but keeping the elven length and braiding that Kyemen had severed long ago. All in all, this elf looked like he should be among the trees of Ellesmera, reading an overly prosy epic, or singing to a particularly interesting plant. Except for his eyes. While the rest of him looked like any elf, his eyes practically glowed with a hatred that couldn’t be all his own. ”Rïsa, Shur’tugal.” The elf barked, gesturing slightly with the tip of the arrow.
Kyemen hesitated, considering his options. Now, the single arrow nocked to the string behind him didn’t particularly worry him. After so many instances where they would have been helpful, he had become accustomed to going around warded from all kinds of attacks, with arrows being one of the primary forms he had focused the spells upon. However, this was standard procedure for most mages that ever had enemies, and the elf had to know that. What other attacks might he have his assailant have in store? On that thought, why was he bothering to alert him at all? After all, he had been caught flat on his stomach, with his back turned, a brisk walk away from his sleeping dragon. And the elf obviously knew he was a Rider. Come to that, why was the elf threatening him in the first place? Elves that allied themselves with the Empire were very few and far between, but they were not unheard of. Kyemen had even met a few. Every single one was either stark raving mad, or simply deeply disturbed. Great. Just want I wanted to run into tonight of all nights. [/Color] Whatever had happened, he had stalled long enough. Very carefully, he started to his feet, making sure not to make any sudden moves. “Now, I could be wrong here,” He said to test the waters as he stood, not bothering with the Ancient Language. If this strange elf wanted to speak completely in binding truths, that was his problem. “But I’m just going to assume that we’re on different sides.” On his feet finally, he turned around equally slowly, eyes locking with his assailant. “And since I’m a servant of the Varden, I’m also going to assume you’re loyal to the king, or to someone else who is.” He casually laid his hand on the hilt of the long knife sheathed on the left side of his belt, not bothering to disguise the movement. If the elf wanted to shoot him, he could go ahead, and good luck to him. “How far off am I?” He wondered whether or not to wake Sierthra, but decided quickly against it, the memory of how peaceful she looked fresh in his mind. No, he was confident he could handle this, whatever this would turn out to be.[/size][/Blockquote]
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Tii
Junior Member
Posts: 61
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Post by Tii on Feb 8, 2010 20:30:47 GMT -5
Za’lyyr watched the slow and deliberate movements of the other man. He just watched with the silence floating in the air, edged with the thick presence of tension. It was obvious. But what else was it supposed to be? Were they to frolic along the edges of the Ramr and have a nice little picnic, all while telling stories of their lives? No. Though it would be an entertaining site to see. His breathing was slow and steady, not labored and excited in any way. It was easy and calm, like the rest of him seemed to be. He should have been frightened, with a dragon resting only a few bounds away. Fear was a material sense though. It could be felt, smelt, and tasted. It was an alert to those around that they could easily take advantage of the feeling.
He tilted his head forward some, a slight smile appearing on the face. It wasn’t kind or friendly. It held no emotion behind it. It was just there… an expression of all things. His eyes followed the hand that made to rest on the hilt of his knife. He was not planning on anything being drawn. A fight was not what he was after. He hoped one would not arise. As he stood there, he lowered the arrow slowly. It was a steady movement that seemed to float to the next. Everything about the elves movements were elegant, as was typical for the race. His bow was quickly moved to slide over his shoulder and head, resting on his back. The arrow just as quickly moved to situate itself inside the quiver on his back. Just after, his hands rested at his sides.
“You assume correctly. You are not one of my riders.” The elf's eyebrows knit for a moment. "You didn't feel like one of my riders." He stood with minimal movement. No twitches of muscle, no arms swinging or head moving. He was perfectly still. The brief blow of the wind pushed his hair around as it always did and made him take in a large breath. It filled his lungs and pushed away any nerves. He was calm now. More than he’d ever been. Za'lyyr's voice was low and quiet. ”Of all people, you should be well aware of the dangers in the Empire.” He steel barred his mind and locked away, cutting himself off from any type of mental contact. He didn’t want the rider roaming in his mind. A frightening thought crossed him mind, making his body tense for the briefest of moments. What if the rider tried to capture him? He brushed it aside. He wouldn’t. Or so he hoped. Besides, hopefully the other elf didn’t have the slightest idea of how close he was to the king.
Za’lyyr was wordless as he trotted away from a moment, returning with his pack slung over a shoulder. ”I imagine you, as well as your dragon, wouldn’t be against a little warmth.” He looked at the rider for a brief moment before moving towards the tree line and the clearing where he knew the dragon rested. He was careful as he moved, doing his best not to startle or upset either of the two. He wasn’t exactly sure how asleep the dragon actually was. When he came into the clearing he couldn’t help but stare. He saw dragons every day. He worked with them. At the moment, he was training one of the newest riders in magic and the Ancient Language and has spoken in the mind with her dragon, Osiris. He spoke with Shruikan nearly every day… Yet, as he stood and looked in at the giant creature, he couldn’t keep himself from staring. They were still incredible to him in every way. He still couldn’t help but be in awe. A dragon, be it Varden or not, was still a dragon; and being such, earned respect from him. He tore his eyes from the creature as he returned to the trees long enough to get a hold of an arm load of wood. He was careful in its placement, not wanting to get too close to the dragon, or too close to the forest.
Strangely, a smile came across his face. It was small and momentary; gone as quickly as it had arrived. "Get warm and rest with your dragon." He didn't look at the rider as the wood burst into flames as he spoke its name in the Ancient Language. "Brisingr." He sat beside it, trying to look relaxed. He didn't know if he was doing a good job of it. A string of words left his mouth. There wasn't anything that happened. It was for anyone looking in at the fire. It would be dimmed and hard to see from far off. He looked up at the rider after a few moments of staring down. "Sit."
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Post by Angmor on Feb 21, 2010 20:28:54 GMT -5
Kyemen wondered just how bad a sign it was that he was dumbly following a potentially dangerous yet apparently docile enemy elf back to his own campsite, which happened to be in the middle of hostile territory... And yet it didn't seem all that unusual. Perhaps it was an indicator of just how tired he was. Or perhaps it just simply wasn't unusual, and it was an indication of just how strange his life had become. Either way, he figured he should probably spare it some thought after the present situation had been resolved.
The elf seemed at ease enough, to walk in front of Kyemen toward a sleeping dragon. He wondered about that. If the elf was at all nervous, he was doing a very good job of hiding it. So what does he want? If he wanted to fight, he had me about as vulnerable as an attacker could ask for just now. And it's not like one elf could take on Sierthra and I, and he's got to know that. So what could he possibly want from me? [/Color] As they reached the clearing, the elf stopped in his tracks. Kyemen couldn't help but smile. Sierthra usually had that effect on people, especially when the moonlight made her scales glimmer like cloudy emeralds. He took the opportunity to brush his mind across hers, still debating whether or not to wake her. He made up his mind in an instant as he found nothing in her mind but the warm, refreshing darkness of undisturbed sleep, something of which he of all people knew she got precious little. The elf visibly pulled himself back into reality, trotting to the edge of the clearing opposite Sierthra. Kyemen watched warily, taking a few steps closer to Sierthra with his hand still on the hilt of his knife. His eyes followed his strange guest as he gathered an armload of dead logs from the edge of the forest and brought them back into the center of the clearing and setting it down. "Get warm and rest with your dragon." He said as he arranged the wood into the conical shape of a campfire and used magic to dispense with all the rigamerole of kindling and tinder, bathing the clearing in pleasantly warm orange light. Kyemen frowned. Was that the elf's game? Lighting a fire to summon some allies that might be nearby... Even as the thought occurred to him, the elf's very next move was to utter a short line of Ancient words that Kyemen recognized as a simple spell to hide the firelight from curious eyes. This done, he looked up from the fire, and their eyes locked for a moment. "Sit." He said after a moment. The tone was still so calmly neutral that Kyemen had no idea if it was meant as an invitation or an order. Either way, seeing no other option, he complied slowly, settling into a cross-legged sitting position opposite his odd acquaintance, with the fire between. He had to admit, the warmth of the fire felt good on his skin after hour upon hour with the cool wind in his face. They sat in silence for a moment, staring at each other over the flames. Kyemen could nothing from the elf's expression or bearing, nothing at all, nothing to give him any clue as to his motivations. And apparently he wasn't going to talk, either. And Kyemen did not entertain the thought of courting danger and trying to probe the elf's mind. Finally, deciding he was getting nowhere, he shifted slightly, breaking the silence. "Please don't take this the wrong way," He said, slowly unbuckling the sheath of his knife from his belt and setting it on the ground beside him. "But you said it yourself, I do know the dangers of the Empire. And meeting an elf in the middle of nowhere who also happens to be a follower of Galbatorix ranks rather highly on the list." He removed the bandoleer that held the sheath for his sword and second knife in place across his back, setting both weapons next to the first within easy reach as he finished. "So pardon me if I seem a bit... wary.[/size][/blockquote]
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Tii
Junior Member
Posts: 61
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Post by Tii on Feb 25, 2010 20:45:05 GMT -5
It’d be a lie to say that Za’lyyr wasn’t surprised. The enemy rider hadn’t so much as stopped him in his forward movements. He figured that the other would have protested to a certain degree. When he didn’t; it brought three possibilities to his mind. This elf was either stupid, very sure of his abilities, or just way more tired than he looked. Little time was spent thinking on which it was, or what combination of the possibilities it was. All he could do was be thankful that he hadn’t been lashed out at or attacked. The last thing he wanted to happen was have an angry rider and dragon coming after him. He didn’t think he’d be able to survive that. If he did, it would be sheerly on the idea that he’d run his way out of the sticky situation. He was quick and could run for a long time. By the tired looking state of both the dragon and rider… he may have actually been able to get away. He still didn’t like the idea of running though. It made him feel like a coward, even if he was only thinking about it.
Their eyes held each others for a moment and the urge to trudge into the other elf’s mind was almost irresistible. He wanted to see everything he could. Where he’d been, what he’d learned, where he was going…. What it had been like when he’d met his dragon. He suddenly had the urge to gain as much information as he possibly could. Za’lyyr kept his mind to himself. He didn’t stretch his consciousness out to brush the others’, no matter how alluring the idea had been. Words exited into the air and the elf listened quietly. His eyes remained on the fire he was so fond of, not taking the time to look away. He reached out with his hand, words echoing his mind but not into the air around him. Waíse eka vinr, brisingr; neo eka andskotti. As his hand extended into the fire, the blames didn’t burn him. The flickering tongues wrapped around his fingers in a strange way. It looked odd… unnatural but comfortable at the same time. The flames snaked and curled their way around his fingers and hand, finally curling around his wrist like a tail. He stroked the pad of his thumb over the serpentine fire before finally withdrawing his hand. The fire seemed to follow after his hand as he withdrew it. He’d spent so long learning to use magic without spoken word. The concentration it took was strict. It was more by will than by the words. The phrase he’d used was a simple statement. Be my friend, fire, not my enemy. There was no specific instruction given, but it was enough to alter the element. He’d gotten good at learning what worked and what didn’t.
”I do not blame you, Rider. I am sure that I am as wary as you are. I may not show it as readily.” A slight smile came across his face. He wasn’t insulting him at all, he was just commenting. Za’lyyr had the distinct tendency not to show any emotion at all. That was an elven upbringing and a past mistake at work. Emotions were like a glimpse of the mind. He didn’t want to give anyone that peek into him. He wanted to keep his past and his mind locked up tight, with no involvement from others. The elf watched as weapons were discarded from his companion. His eyes followed the various items as they rested on the ground. The only movement he made was to remove his bow from around him and his quiver as well. ”What’s your name?” He looked back to the fire again, his eyes deviating to look up at the sleeping dragon. Her scales were bright and shining even in the night, reflecting the flickering of the fire back at them. She was beautiful and an incredible creature.
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Post by Angmor on Mar 3, 2010 23:00:12 GMT -5
Sitting down had been a mistake. The combination of the relaxed position and the warmth of the fire seeping comfortably through his limbs made for a very pleasant environment, one that had his eyelids drooping before he realized it. His mind rebelled feebly, but it did very little to hold back the onrushing sleep… He snapped fully awake as the elf spoke again, hoping that it was not too obvious. Gods, he would have to make sure that it never happened again, or he would probably wake up with an elegantly designed elven dagger in his eye socket. It was only then that Kyemen noticed that the elf was manipulating the fire with his hands. Even holding them away, the flames seemed to cling to his hands, swirling and spiraling through his fingers in a way that reminded him of wisps of cloud through the crags of Tel’naer where he trained. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, and strange for some reason that he couldn’t quite place… It was then that he realized that the elf hadn’t used the ancient language for the spell. It had simply happened. Although magically, it was a rather simple action, he saw now that he was witnessing an impressive display of power. The elf was risking death or worse by doing this, and doing so as if it was a careless frivolity. Kyemen renewed the idea to be careful around this one, because an enemy that could attack without speaking could be dangerous indeed, even to him.
“What’s your name?” The elf asked suddenly, the fire fleeing from his hands. Kyemen watched as he removed the bow and quiver from his back, placing them on the ground in almost a mirror image of his own weapons. Kyemen considered taking on an alias, but why bother? His mind was probably not capable of subtly at this point, and the elf probably already knew. Kyemen had seen his own wanted poster in several imperial cities, so his existence wasn’t exactly a secret. “Kyemen.” He stated simply, looking at his hands. “Kyemen, of no house in particular anymore.” As he spoke, he looked up, and found that the elf’s attention did not lay with him. He smiled knowingly, glancing back over his shoulder at his dragon’s sleeping form. “Ah yes. And that would be my Sierthra. Fastest thing in the air, and my greatest friend. We were in Ellesmera this morning, believe it or not.” He paused, wondering if he should have given up that bit of information. Oh, who cares. He’ll either think I’m lying, or he’ll be impressed. Either way, the Empire isn’t really any better off. [/Color] “And what of you?” He asked finally. “What do you like to be called?”[/size][/blockquote]
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Tii
Junior Member
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Post by Tii on Mar 5, 2010 22:39:15 GMT -5
Za’lyyr couldn’t help a slight smile as he watched the rider’s lids slowly closing. He doubted that the other man would even realize it was happening. He stretched his arms up in the air, stretching the muscles and trying to limber his body. It had been a long day for him, and obviously for this rider as well. He was falling asleep as they spoke. He jerked slightly when he spoke, waking the other elf. A soft chuckle escaped his throat and Za’lyyr let his arms fall back at his sides again before crossing over his lap. He was trying not to fidget but it wasn’t as easy as easy as it normally was. The back of his hands came to rest on his thighs, staying there and nor moving. He stayed alert despite the sleepiness of his companion. If someone had told him he’d be acting like a look out for an enemy rider, watching out for him in the middle of the night, he probably would have either laughed or hit them. It was hard to say which though. Za’lyyr wasn’t the most predictable of people; then again most elves were hard to peg. Their minds worked in odd ways, computing and thinking about the smallest details. He didn’t get bogged down in things like time. He had plenty of time. He had centuries. Time was a detail.
He nodded his head at the replies given, looking between the two for a moment. ”Kyemen and Siertha. Sounds very good together.” He didn’t try to restrain the smile that grew while he let his gaze stay on the dragon that slept. It was incredible. He doubted he’d ever again be so close to a Varden dragon without turning his back to run. The next time they came so close, it probably wouldn’t be on such… nonviolent terms. At that moment in time, no one was at the other’s throat. There was no yelling, there were no threats. It was just quiet. And Za’lyyr was content.
He raised his eyebrows when the name of the elven capital came into play. ”Then she is fast. Very fast.” He looked to Kyemen, nodding once again. ”No wonder she is so tired.” He chuckled once again. It was an impressible feat. It was a long way to travel in a single day, the kind of thing that he didn’t have any hope of doing. Dragons were the only things around that could go so far so quickly. Beautiful and powerful. The best words to describe. He found himself wanting to run his fingers of the bright, shining scales. Or course he didn’t though. He sat by the fire and stared back into it once again, thinking about what it must feel like. It was an overwhelming thought.
He was pulled from his reverie and looked up at Kyemen, the light of the fire reflecting across his face. ”Me? They call me Za’lyyr.” He once again stared at the fire. ”Just Za’lyyr.” It took him quite a time to pull his eyes away again and look at the rider. He had to push himself to do it. A weak smile came to his face as they sat silently. ”You look different than the wanted posters.”
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Post by Angmor on Mar 14, 2010 14:24:30 GMT -5
Za'lyyr. [/color] Interesting. A very elven name, a very elven appearance, and yet allied to the Empire. One of those lammentable few whose needs could not be satisfied by their people. Like me.[/Color] He realized. He had never thought to compare himself with them before, but it was true. But had this Za'lyyr left, or had he been exiled? In either case though, that put the situation in a different light. Kyemen resolved to do a little research on this Za'lyyr when he had a chance... "You look different than the wanted posters." The elf was saying, after apparently being wrapped in his own thoughts just as Kyemen had been wrapped up in his. Kyemen chuckled. This night seemed destined to consist of tired stupor interspersed with bursts of conversation. "It's true," He answered. "The Empire took a few artistic liberties at that point. For one thing, I hardly ever scowl like that. I was rather flattered by the price, though. I wouldn't have thought that I was worth anywhere near that sum. But I would guess someone like you has little use for human wealth." The wanted posters he had seen in imperial cities had always been a source of amusement. As with the ones for Eragon, Roran, David, and Nasuada, it was mostly just an attempt by the Empire to avoid legitimizing the Varden movement in the eyes of the citizenry by portraying them as nothing more than common criminals. Kyemen had always found it funny that the sketch of his face depicted him scowling menacingly, the homicidal intentions clearly visible in his eyes. Still, this meant that the drawing barely resembled his face, and he was comfortable standing next to one for an entire day without anyone noticing. Just then, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps he might find out just how useful this Za'lyyr was to his master... "Still," He continued, still chuckling, "I suppose if your spooks don't have a a fairth or three of me in their dossier, I'm doing something right."[/size][/blockquote]
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Tii
Junior Member
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Post by Tii on Mar 21, 2010 21:28:58 GMT -5
The way their conversation progressed was strange. It was a particularly odd situation anyway. Here sat a dragon rider for the Varden, his dragon curled up in sleep, and an elf who was in close contact with King Galbatorix. There was nothing usual about the situation. Had it not been the specific set of circumstances that had set them up, he doubted there would be much of the silence that seemed to loft through the air and suspend itself in time and space. It was a very different type of meeting. Here they sat, letting the silence tangle between them before words fell sloppily into the night sky and circled up towards the stars, never to be heard by any other. It was a conversation meant only for their ears. Never would it leave. Za’lyyr doubted Galbatorix would ever know. The king didn’t see particular need to sweep Za’lyyr’s mind every day like he used to. He’d served the Empire for decades. Za’lyyr himself had been born close to the time of Galbatorix. He’d grown to watch the wars and see the Forsworn. He’d watched dragons fall from the sky and seen riders drive themselves to madness. It was an unforgiving time and a world that didn’t budge in its ideals. It was beautiful in its own, fractured way.
” But I would guess someone like you has little use for human wealth.” Za’lyyr’s hand was reintroduced to the fire. This time it crept its way up his arm and curled around him like a snake. It was a short lived display though. He withdrew his hand for the second time, his eyes following the trail of flame as it fizzled out from the end, like a lit fuse, until it was nothing but a puff of smoke floating away with their meaningless conversation. ”That is a good assumption to make. Gold and silver are short term profits.” A slight smile pulled at his lips while he watched the smoke rising from their fire and into the air. When it came to the tops of the trees it would drift sideways rather than up, diverted by spell Za’lyyr had cast. He wasn’t in anything for the short term. Riders and elves, beings with prolonged life… short term wasn’t exactly the best plan to run by. ”And add little value to my work.” He didn’t give much more information than that. Just because they were at a stalemate now, that didn’t mean they’d remain so still later.
"I suppose if your spooks don't have a a fairth or three of me in their dossier, I'm doing something right." Za’lyyr couldn’t help the small laugh that surfaced. ”It seems you have been. You’re luckier than most.” That much was true. Most Varden allies that came within Imperial land usually left with some sort of injury, or void of life. This was a special case. Za’lyyr found himself questioning why. ”I will admit that I am surprised. I figured that you and your lot would have fashioned your own sort of hit list by now.” His eyes finally averted from the heavens down to the elf that sat across from him. He may have been staring, but he didn’t really care. Za’lyyr kept his eyes on the other man though, taking the moment to make a clear mental picture. It would be useful later.
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Post by Angmor on Apr 11, 2010 14:21:41 GMT -5
As he listened, Kyemen suppressed a yawn. Gods, it really should not have been this hard, and yet here he was, struggling to stay awake. Just think about something else. [/Color] He told himself firmly. Stirring finally, he settled himself in a less comfortable position as he contemplated the elf's answer. It was an interesting thing to ponder. While this Za'lyyr had not answered as explicitly as Kyemen had hoped when he had put forth the ploy, the elf had implied that he had indeed seen the dossier. This had to mean that Za'lyyr was of a fairly high rank within the Empire. Either that, or he had been shown the information because it was relevant to an assigned mission. Could that be his purpose here? "I will admit that I am surprised." He went on, his chiseled face still about as expressive as the statue it resembled. "I figured you and your lot would have fashioned your own sort of hit list by now." "I would not be the slightest bit surprised if we have." Kyemen answered, only partially able to hide another yawn. He was aware of Za'lyyr's scrutiny, but decided not to do anything about it. I'm tired and resigned to an odd night. Not much to see here.[/Color] "But if there is, I'm not a part of it. And don't be so surprised. When your territory is so much greater than ours, we most often don't cross the border for purposes to war. Often we have to go into the Empire by simple necessity..." He trailed off into an explosive yawn that opened so wide it made his jawbone crack alarmingly. With that, his rigid willpower broke down, and he felt just how tired he was. Unable to hold it off any longer, he felt his every muscle sag with fatigue. It became immediately clear that in the war between the demands of his body and the willpower of his mind, the body was winning. Not about to sleep in the presence of an enemy, he considered his options. It seemed that he either had to get rid of Za'lyyr, wake Sierthra and move to another spot, or find something to help him stay awake. The elf, had seemingly settled down immovably, and Kyemen didn't think himself subtle enough to drive him off without provoking a fight. And reaching back into Sierthra's mind, he found her to be in the middle of a vivid and pleasent dream, in which she was soaring among the stars. Even in the face of possible danger, he could not get up the heart to summon her from his slumber. No, he would have to think of some way out of this himself. Well, it was apparent that his unwanted guest would not be moving off on his own, and Kyemen knew that further pointless conversation would be the death of him. So perhaps if he turned the conversation to heavier topics, he would either be so interested that he would forget about sleep, or the elf would move off. Either way, it was worth a try. "So what brought you into the service of the Empire?" He asked suddenly, deciding to start with the most obvious. While it might have just been an illusion of the wavering firelight, he imagined he saw a flicker in Za'lyyr's dark eyes. Kyemen found himself envying this elf's self-control. He would work on it if he found the time. "You have to admit," He went on. "People like you are something of a rarity."[/size][/blockquote]
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Tii
Junior Member
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Post by Tii on May 22, 2010 8:33:37 GMT -5
”Often we have to go into the Empire by simple necessity..."He let a smile pull at the edge of his lips. What was the point in hiding it, his words displayed his amusement either way. ”You’ll have to excuse me for not being sympathetic,” He knew the other wasn’t after a sympathy bid, but it was an entertaining thought none the less. What a strange impasse they’d come to. There sat blood enemies, neither of them flinching forward to attack. It was an odd sort of respect that permeated the air between them. It was still interlaced with tension though.
The momentary truce could not last forever and with the popping of a jaw and introduction of a loud yawn into the air, Za’lyyr’s thoughts turned faster. If he were to fall asleep… How had he become this lucky? It would be like a Rider had fallen, gift-wrapped, in his lap. He kept the pressing smugness from his face, letting it remain steady and granite in the dark, lit by the flickers of the camp fire. He did not celebrate. Not yet. Not until he was bound and drugged in the depths of the castle. What a beautiful thought.
"People like you are something of a rarity." He stared at the fire for the longest of times. The only sound he made was barely audible. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered into them, a string of the ancient language leaving his lips like music before reached out towards the fire. It didn’t look like he did much of anything… like he had grabbed a ball of air above the fire. As he pulled his hands back towards himself, he parted them. He has used magic to catch the light from the fire, making a ball of soft light. He moved it around between his hands and rolled it over the back of his hand. It gave him something to do. ”That is true.” He watched the ball of light as he let it roll up his arm. ”But it is a long and monotonous story I do not think you wish to here.”
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Post by kanoinazuma17 on May 22, 2010 20:12:41 GMT -5
(Is it allright if I am to join? I just want to know before I go and post an intro and piss a lot of people off.)
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Post by Angmor on May 26, 2010 20:02:21 GMT -5
The long silence that followed the question was one that Kyemen found gratifying. Even more so the response. He smiled inwardly, immediately feeling his spirits lift. Aha, resistance. [/Color] He thought. Now we’re getting somewhere.[/Color] This was the first time this Za’lyyr had specifically refused to talk about something, which meant that it was probably the one sore spot Kyemen could possibly have found. Or at least, he hoped so. From all the elf’s reaction to the question, he might as well have asked what his favorite color was. Still, some progress was better than none. “Long and monotonous stories are often the best.” Kyemen said, intentionally avoiding the hypnotically beautiful light show the elf was conducting on the other side of the fire. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was something to calm him down even more. He fought the drooping of his eyelids, shifting in his sitting position to wake up his muscles and get blood flowing again. “And besides,” He pointed out, staring straight into Za’lyyr’s shrouded eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”[/size][/blockquote]
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