(SE) The Matter at Hand
for Heather
Brecken Michaelis
The Lance

Age: 33 | Height: 6' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 3 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 10 - Int:
Played by: kae Offline
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Posts: 18 | Total: 255
MP: 0
#1
THE LION ISN'T SACRED WHEN NOT SLEEPING NEAR THE LAMB
From the ice and into the fire: Halo's shimmer lay forgotten behind him as Brecken descended into the Burrows. He no longer required the layers he had worn in the Citadel; one by one his clothes had gone into his pack until he wore only a loose single layer, sweating still as the shine of the northern sun gave way to something else entirely: the red glow of Caido's fiery blood. Exposed to the air, it looked like nothing less than a wound: a great scabrous sore oozing and rotten. Like someone had peeled up whatever once grew here and tossed it aside. Brecken had paused a long time to survey the abrupt change in scenery. Perhaps he had even begun to second-guess his purpose in coming here. What could he discover that others could not? Perhaps he should wait to hear news of their exploits before venturing forth himself. Perhaps he was simply being reckless again, spurred on by rumors and whispering, frustrated by a lack of answers.

It was exciting, though.

Brecken could not deny that. Once he had arrived, there was really no turning back. There was only the cautious foray down toward the tunnels, slipping more than once, sending tiny avalanches of rock down before him. He had expected darkness from the name, but on arrival he saw he was mistaken. The Burrows were lit by the same magma heating the place to such an excruciating degree. What kind of creatures lived here? What kind of people came here with nothing to find? The thought pinged around in his brain as he moved on, his eyes scanning restlessly from side to side. He paused again at the mouth of the cave opening to blink at the sky, as if fixing it in his memory would help him to return.
IT IS EVIL WHEN IT EATS UNLESS IT'S FEEDING FROM THE DAMNED.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,648
MP: 9824
#2
Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
With naught to go off of their latest adventure within the Obsidian Cathedral, Melita was all the more frustrated and motivated – her frenetic pace indicating the air of molten, feral savagery pervading her roaming essence, a stormfront, a tempestuous edge to her fiery abyss. She wanted to do something, find anything that could provide some benefit to those afflicted, to either assist in a permanent cure, or some substance for the Ascended to use. The flowers were along the back of her mind, figuring she could always march and stomp over to the Springs if nothing came to fruition here –

Wherever here was.

Cave mouths came along her sights, and she slowed, ceasing momentarily to allow Fangorn to catch up, hitching her quiver further up her shoulders, and the satchel notched on one arm. She could hear the rush of water nearby, clear indications of falls, reminding her of the Greatwood expanse, increasing, encouraging, some amount of hope. Maybe there’d be an element here, of worth, and more than just mere speculation.

She wasn’t alone though – gaze catching on an unfamiliar figure looming nearby, and she stopped altogether as her gourd promptly came to rest at her ankles; a breath flickering and flowing through her lungs, tension riddled and rankled for multitudes of reasons and foundations. “Hello,” she offered quietly, before wandering forward, clearly intending to pass.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
Brecken Michaelis
The Lance

Age: 33 | Height: 6' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 3 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 10 - Int:
Played by: kae Offline
Change author:
Posts: 18 | Total: 255
MP: 0
#3
THE LION ISN'T SACRED WHEN NOT SLEEPING NEAR THE LAMB
Brecken hears the woman before he sees her: the even march of her footsteps far too loud to be a predator, though in truth she hardly makes a sound. He cocks an eye back over his shoulder, the amusement plain on his face. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" he wonders aloud, his tone just slightly playful. There is a note of truth hidden there: she looks far too alone, far too small in the shadow of the cave. Armed or not, who is she and what is she doing here? A citizen of one of the many settlements, on her own search for answers? Or merely a foolhardy adventurer on her way to certain death?

Brecken will pretend to himself he doesn't care either way. But the swagger in his gait as he eases forward, effortlessly keeping pace, conveys a pure interest. He scans the fletching above her shoulder, the clothing she wears, the strange little companion moving in her wake. To him, this aloof attempt to pass him by speaks of weakness — anxiety or some other distracting mental pitfall — and he might be worried if he allowed himself the luxury. He is, of course, merely curious. And absolutely heedless of the degree to which his companionship may be unwelcome.

"My name is Brecken," he says. "I'm looking into these caverns because something quite serious happened here. Might be dangerous." A sly smile twists the last word in his mouth, as if he has truly come only to test this possibility. His own well-stocked pack and the carefully maintained spear strapped to it both speak truth to his words.
IT IS EVIL WHEN IT EATS UNLESS IT'S FEEDING FROM THE DAMNED.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,648
MP: 9824
#4
Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
Melita hadn’t expected to draw the stranger’s interest. It hadn’t been in her inclinations or pursuits, too intent, bullheaded, and pre-occupied with a thousand other nuances springing through her mind. She coiled in on herself, a predilection of regard for treachery, signs she could be dangerous too, if given the right ammunition and motivation. “Looking for something,” was a hum under her breath, Fangorn grumbling and bounding beside her in response.

She could feel herself being sized up, and she straightened out her shoulders, conveyed every essence that she’d use the weapons at her disposal, if necessary. Predators and predators, carnivores and raptorial things, matching adornments, and she was poised, ready, for some caustic imbalance to shift. Uncertain if this man was a threat, she kept him along the corner of her gilded eyes, maneuvering cautiously towards the falls, drawn there on whims and potentials, on memories of worlds long, long gone.

Except she was riveted right back into the folds by her own curiosity, head completely turning towards the taller figure along his armaments. Brecken. Her gaze narrowed, the uncertainty suddenly there on her features, instead of the specious, stoked canvas of a youth eternally implored by fire and caprice. “I’m Melita.” The gourd along her ankles hastened for his own title to be announced, and she laughed, softly, a little more yielding. “This is Fangorn.” But then back to the reality of the caverns – “I only heard a little about it. The fire god Tanau? And then a lot of people became sick.” Precariousness wasn’t something that bothered or rankled; she’d been immersed in it since her childhood. What else lurked within was what sparked the intrigue.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun


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