"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
10-15-2020, 10:58 PM (This post was last modified: 10-15-2020, 11:00 PM by Warship.
Edit Reason: changing tag and prefix
)
when all of hell is full, the dead shall walk the earth
He had tried dying many times before he actually accomplished it. He lived through wars of might and magic, through dragons and Dark Gods and everything in between. The etchings on his body told the tale of endless battles and hundreds of opponents. None of them could take him, at least not permanently. The Chamber (or some other unseen force) had always called, and even the Grim Reaper dared not thwart them. And so he would be spat back out, again and again. Sometimes he lived just because Hell had had no vacancies, other times because the Chamber demanded it.
Until the Chamber herself had died.
When she had died, the blood in his veins turned to dust, his tongue reduced to ashes in his mouth. His heart had crumbled like the smooth granite rocks that had surrounded his beloved kingdom. When she had died, he went with it. And it was for the best, for he was a lost relic of a bygone world, where might was everything and magic meant little. Where wars were won with spilt blood and the sweat off the shoulders, and not the newest trait the lands could concoct.
In truth, an old warrior like him had no place in the world of today. The world had moved on, while he remained behind in a time where magic meant little, and loyalty was all. With the Chamber being gone, and everyone he ever loved gone with her, it seemed he was destined to remain lost to the annals of history.
She is ancient as he is, a thing of an era long lost. But it had been a good era in many ways. Certainly, there had been issues even then, but if Beqanna brought back pieces of a long lost world, perhaps there was a reason. She cannot help but believe she is here to remake Beqanna, to make it into both something new and something old. Something correct, as it should be.
For this Beqanna is not it.
Her magic tingles though, drawing her to the beach. The presence is a familiar one, not quite alive but not exactly dead either. Of course, none of them were exactly dead now, what with Rhy’s little experiment gone wrong. Not that Straia was sorry about it, given that it had brought her back as well. The afterlife does not contain its dead well.
She appears on the beach, traveling by teleportation which has quickly become a favorite new trick. It is very hand. ”Warship,” she says, her magic centering on his presence. It is a familiar one, and she is glad to have found him. Or been called by him? It’s hard to be sure, exactly. ”It has been a long time, but it seems perhaps our destinies are forever intertwined. Perhaps Beqanna herself is hoping we will bring back what has been lost.”
”Do you wish to live again? I could arrange for it, and I could use your help. I do miss our home.”
@[Warship]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
10-19-2020, 08:34 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2020, 10:50 PM by Warship.)
when all of hell is full, the dead shall walk the earth
The past had a way of forcing itself into the future.
He had many skeletons in his closet he would have liked to bury for good, but somehow they always managed to rattle the door when he least expected it. A familiar sight, perhaps, or the smell of pine and soot could wake them up. The triggers were never the same, which left him ill prepared to fight down the memories when they came crawling back to the front of his mind.
Today, however, it was a voice. The voice was so far in his past that at first, he thought it some trick of the magical lands, or perhaps his own mind going funny in the perpetual loneliness that is the after life. But there was a clearness to it that made him think otherwise, a lilt to the tone that told him the voice was not a figment of his imagination.
He knew it as well as his own; perhaps better, given his propensity for scowling silence and gnashing teeth over actual words. He had heard her voice first as a brat of a filly who enjoyed being a burr in his side. Listened to it as she grew in herself and in her strength, becoming one of the most fearsome leaders the lands had ever known. He had even known her as a lover once, though he held no feelings towards her in that regard. It was a union that made sense, and strong kingdoms needed strong heirs forged from strong bloodlines. But he could not pretend he wasn’t glad to see her. To the contrary, he was as excited as he ever gets. Which isn’t very, but he didn’t scowl at her in any case. ”A sight for sore eyes…” he murmured, his voice broken from lack of use. ”The Gods must have been some kind of assholes, to tie your fate to someone like me.” A flicker of a smile crossed his mouth, an uncharacteristic motion indeed. ”But, perhaps you’re right. Though if I remember correctly, the last time you and I were together, Beqanna got down right pissed off and burned herself to the ground.” That was true. They had flexed their muscle and put the petulant kingdoms in their place, though it had not come without repercussions. Her next words caught him off guard, and he regarded her carefully, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Finally, he looked away, staring off into the emptiness and fog that threatens to consume them.
”Can I live again if I never truly died? My life was tied to the Chamber (Eight had seen to that), that is true, and she is gone, that is also true. But the Chamber still lives in some capacity, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. I may be wrong though, and that is just a hunch. I’ve always been more brawn than brains.” He normally isn’t the philosophical type, quite the opposite. But something in her stirred something in him. Finally, he sighed, his gaze coming back to her. ”Of course I will help. This fog is bullshit. I miss our home, too.” With that, he gave her a nod. She knew much more than him about magic, and he had no choice but to trust her.
10-26-2020, 06:26 PM (This post was last modified: 10-26-2020, 06:26 PM by Straia.)
is this the end of everything?
STRAIA
or is it just a new way to bleed?
She chuckles slightly, so much herself in that moment. It is good to see him, to see some piece of her old life. It is not quite the same as being reunited with Weed, who will forever set her on fire. But Warship had been a far more permanent piece of her life, someone she had both respected and trusted. ”Haven’t I always been?” she teases, knowing there’s no romance there but certainly capable of playing a bit. She has always been a needling brat, in some small regard (how long ago that feels though; centuries and lifetimes). Still, there is some truth to it. She may be plain by Beqanna’s standards now, but she has not ceased to be beautiful in that wild, impossible way of hers.
At his next comment she laughs outright, eyes sparkling with that old familiar mischief. ”Can you tell me it wasn’t worth it, though?” They had brought Beqanna to its knees, all bowing before the might of the Chamber. The other kingdoms would beg to differ, but she’d brought them exactly where she’d wanted them.
As he speaks, she sobers slightly, her smile returning to that sly crook of the mouth as he mentions that the Chamber is not entirely dead. ”When I came back, my magic had changed. I can only assume Beqanna herself gave me such a gift, for I can feel the heartbeat of this place. With me came a version of the burning prophecy tree. It not longer shows the future, but gives traits. Still, it is a piece of the Chamber that lives. The waterfall of the Falls is back as well, tied to Nikkai.” Anatomy, Craft and Starlace had brought something that was theirs, rather than a kingdom’s, though. But Straia had never truly been more than the Chamber.
She steps back slightly, calling to the magic that runs in her veins. The fog parts easily, the veil so very thin, as if it had just been waiting for the right hoof to push it aside. There is a clear path for him to step through.
@[Warship]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
when all of hell is full, the dead shall walk the earth
The familiarity of their relationship felt good, like stepping into the sun after standing in the shade for too long. Their banter came easily, which was no surprise given the years they had shared. Faces had come and gone in the Chamber, but her face was a constant, one that he would never grow tired of gazing upon, despite the lack of romance shared between them. Her chuckle brings an uncharacteristic smile to his face. ”Of course you have, my favorite princess brat.” he said with a wink, using a pet name from all those years ago. She may be a former queen, and something even more now, but he will always remember her as the meddling princess brat with ambitions far bigger than her small pinto body could have ever held.
But hold she did, and he could not have been prouder to call her his queen,
”I can say no such thing.” he answered with his own chuckle, though his was far less pleasant to listen to than hers. When the fog of the afterlife had threatened to close in on him, he would look back at their glory days with a fondness he had known for no other. What they had done would go down in the history books and infamy, equally.
At her next words he listened carefully, taking notice for the first time that she crackled with a magic she had never had before. He doesn’t know how he missed it, but it is certainly there, and almost palpable in the thick, misty air. ”The greats of Beqanna never stay gone for long.” he mused, recognizing the name of Nikkai though unable to put a face to the name. He was almost ready to speak again, but the air around him changed, and the fog began to roll away. It was clear what he had to do. With a glance at Straia and a deep, calming breath he stepped forward. He could only trust that she knew what she was doing. She had never led him wrong before, though.
