Closed You are a mouse not a man [Weylin and Wrenmae]

[Weylin Quickshot]

"He's dead, Weylin."

It was those words that rung out true in her head. That seemed to rip through her existence, a knife to her flesh. She choked on her tears, unable to speak or summon forth word. Her hands trembled around his cold face, his breaths little more than rattle. Her world sunk into darkness, the emotions peeling away, reducing to little more than an empty shell. A husk. Her prayers fell silent, no longer sure on what to ask the Gods for. Sound was lost, as her world crumbled around her. She stared down upon her blood covered hands, a look of hopelessness filling her face, before it too was reduced to nothing. There was no hope, there was no light; there was only darkness. Weylin touched his face, once, her fingers tracing his features, his lips, his beautiful eyes, to admire it one last time as the harsh reality set in. She wanted to deny it, to cast away the thought, to forget it. The tears fell, but no words emerged.

“You can sob over his wretched corpse or you can take up your blade and stop me. Stay with him and another will die tonight, follow and face me and I will spare this evening of another soul to join Dira’s side.”
The words of the murderer echoed out once more, a final twisted challenge. The Drykas trembled, her hand with drawing as she stared upon her lover. She could not think, the pain was too intense, her emotions ran from her, just like her blood across her hands. A blood that would never wash out. She did not move at the distant clanging of bells, the screams and shouts for the Wave guard, before the murderer quit the scene, his position of challenge clear in her ears. The rabble of voices grew louder, attracted to her voice, her echoing howl of pain. It would not be long until they were upon her.

She brushed a single strand of hair off his face, her mind holding onto that last look; his handsome features, his smooth skin, pale lips. Even in death the artist still held onto his grace and beauty. She removed her hand, and kissed him, a final act of her care that she would never be able to perform again. There were no words to say or nothing more she could say; her begs and pleads were silent to him, along with her apologies for being so foolish, to not react quickly enough, to let an instinct that she pushed down for so long to take control. A raging fire that commanded her very soul.

It was with a final glance, that Weylin pulled herself away. Her mind growing vacant, devoid of thought, her eyes no longer showing signs of warmth or light. The darkness consumed, and the darkness lasted. The husk stared upon her lover, the last flickers in her eye extinguishing before she stood. She lurched away, her mind now dead to the world, her body having now grown a mind of its own, it claimed her knife, a brief, seemingly nonchalant look before the blooded mess walked away.
Valo, please do not hold onto your anger. Please do not hold onto your rage. For that is my burden to carry. Please, although you are no God, watch my steps, for without you… The Drykas gave one final look back at the scene that rested behind her, that final concious thought that seeped out before she lost herself, For without you... I am no one.

OOCWeylin Quickshot leaves the scene.

[Valo]

He was alone, completely alone in his darkness. Even she had abandoned him, unable to bear the death that now took him. Grim fingers of death caressing his very persona, gripping him and pulling him into oblivion. No longer able to exist, no longer able... But it wasn't nothingness that awaited him on the other side and with a great bang, he was one again awoken into darkness. Though unaware of anything that happened around him, eyes sheathed by opaque eye lids and darkness was all that he felt. But he wasn't dead. Why was he not dead? Why could he still think and function and wonder why on earth his ability of pondering has not yet fell into the abyss, along with his very life. But his life was not entirely gone either. He did not feel death, though perhaps an idealistic idea of what death should feel like had been implanted into his psychology and that perception was false. Was there anything fundamentally real in this world any more? Would he simply linger in this concious state for eternity? If so then was there ever a crueller fate to behold a man. Yet an invisible force filled Valo's body. What was it? It wasn't pain, in fact it wasn't unpleasant at all, but a contrast to the drowning that had been so elegantly swept from his form. A feeling of existence, if such was possible. Life, glorious elixir of life that now coursed though his veins, in the place of blood. Some magical, magnificent substance that he was determined not to let go of, grabbing onto it with all the might of his will. He refused to die! Not yet! For he was suspended on the axis of existence. A man at the cross roads of life and death and whichever road he'd take didn't really matter. All titles and names were no longer present. Naked in his own mind he lingered in his conciousness, wishing to scream out. And one more thing. Perhaps a force so much more powerful than anything he had ever felt, a force so alien to him until now. And that very emotion was hate. A burning, passionate hate. Like white iron it tore though his mind, breathing whispers of determination into the darkness, a spark within the jet black void before him. A hate that overpowered love, overpowered purity and moral and fear, for there is not a stronger emotion than the hate one man's heart might bear upon another. He was naked of his inhibitions now, naked of any guilt this hate might cause him. He revelled and relished in that hate as if it were the very fluid of happiness. Wounded by the world he was and a voice spoke to him from the darkness, offering a simple way out. "Hatred can be channelled as you can be spared. What say you? Will you use your hate against the beating hearts of this world?" asked the voice but it was not imaginary. This voice was very real, more real than he was perhaps. His own voice echoing into the void, but the physical lip of his body, the one that still lay slumped against the wall, stained with blood, did not move. "Yes." he whispered with a tremble of his imaginary lip. Though it was not a tremble of hesitation, but the tremble of anticipation. He cared not what the voice was. He saw a light of hope so he sprinted towards it with the undying flame of hope and arm wide open. Even if he was to crash and burn, it would not matter for he had nothing more to loose. "I want to live." he whispered, the voice materialising so profoundly in his darkness. And so he spoke louder, until his exclamation was a roar "I want to live!" It seemed strange, though didn't really matter at the time, that beyond the line of death there's a need to live. A pure burning need to exist once again, at the cost of his sanity, his emotion and his very soul. He'd sell it all to just once wrap his slender fingers around Hound's neck and to choke the man to death and to destroy his killer as he did to him. Perhaps he no longer dwelled on the implications of his decision. Some men may leave the world in peace but he chose to live. No need to dwell upon that. An offer too enticing to turn down. For beyond death men are stripped off the pleasant packaging of manners and values, that they choose to wrap them self with in life - and are reduced to the very basic elements of who they are. And he was reduced too. No longer ashamed to admit his greed and the ever present hate.

[Paragon]

In that moment, Valo crossed the threshold of mortal comprehension. For just that. A transitory moment. A fleeting understanding of what it was to live - and what it was to die. He felt uplifted, as if his soul had left his body, but even that was over in a moment. The presence. The God that gave him this chance. Uldr. Valo caught a glimpse. A figure that turned and faded into darkness. And his spirit dropped, returning into flesh. But something was not the same, and it never would be. Time felt different somehow. More languishing. A force that no longer eroded him. He felt a little more alert, tiredness fading. The pain subsided somewhat. If he tried, he would be able to get up from the floor. But before he did so, a voice entered his ears. A whisper. Something more. "You are marked by Uldr," it said, "remember this day. That I spared your existence. You have a job to do now. Channel that hate. Channel that fear. One day you will all shed the mortal coils you have been burdened with. You are my Returned now. You have tasted death. Savour it, Valo." The final words petered out to nothingness. Uldr was gone. And Valo was still alive - sort of.

[Valo]

It was all so strange and all happened so fast, but Valo no longer cared. He savoured everything about the short moments that granted him so much next experience. The fear was replaced by hunger, the hunger for knowledge and understanding of the situation. And perhaps that was present for a moment. A fleeting understanding of the very condition of human existence and that of human death. A man with his heart wide open to embrace all this strangeness. He had caught a glimpse, just a glimpse of an ethereal being which he thought to be a god. A slender figure, awfully young and dressed as elegantly as Valo him self was. But it was only a glimpse before the figure faded into darkness and he fell back into his body, his chest inflating in a gasp. The pain subsiding, alertness increasing as his wits returned into acute sharpness. Valo was back, though he was different now. Before his eyes snapped open, the voice spoke to him again. The words somehow so polite and gentle, yet they owned him completely. He belonged to the voice now. "You are marked by Uldr," it said, "remember this day. That I spared your existence. You have a job to do now. Channel that hate. Channel that fear. One day you will all shed the mortal coils you have been burdened with. You are my Returned now. You have tasted death. Savour it, Valo." There was much love and gratitude to the god for sparing his life. A certain joy within his chest that filled each breath, for Valo was breathing. He was alive, sort of. Though this life was different. Time felt different everything felt different, but it wasn't a bad different. Not at all. He pulled him self to his feet, surprised at the ease with which this action came to him. Eyes surveying the blood and the emptiness about. She who's voice had been absent to him now, the panic and the desperation that saturated it now faded, had abandoned him. Hound too had taken off and perhaps it was time for Valo to leave the scene too, for his clothing was now soaked with his own blood and the eyes of possible onlookers would surely make things difficult. This mind a clean slate, acute and agile finally making sense of what just took place. Valo hid away within the smallest and emptiest of alleys,figuring out what it was he wanted to do more than anything right now. And though that answer was painfully obvious, he knew not quite how to accomplish it yet. Kill Houndwas his most cherished thought. The burning urge for revenge. But his wit did not allowed him to blindly stride into death once more and his greed would not allow him to surrender that brand new unlife he was given> the feeling was too wonderful to part with. A great transformation had taken place in Valo that night. Though that shell of an idealistic gentleman, seeped all the terrible qualities he had ever possessed. Only now he no longer cared for their disguise. The greed and the hate were no strangers to him now, only a lovely taste upon his lips which he savoured with a maddening grin within his paper white features. A low purr of a chuckle as he came to terms with that he had not quite believed.

[Echelon]

Adventurer's Loot A Gift Experience is its own reward. Valo's Loot : Valo Skill XP Reward Painting +2XP Observation +3XP Rhetoric +1XP Lore: The Curse of Ghastly Zeltivan Soil Speechless Beauty of Zeltivan Sunset The Moment of Maturity Death of The Boy Birth of The Man Discovering The Bloodthirst Within Ever Curious Of Another's Mind Self Sacrificing By Nature Death Exception Darkest Proposition of Perverted Resurrection Uldr's Grace Items or Consequences: Tier One of Uldr's Mark, consult Paragon for details. Also I am going to add in a nice ugly scar across Valo's neck for the first rescue Weylin performed. Enjoy. Notes: Valo I have never seen you write this will before, wish I could see this all the time. Also he is like the pure version of Trente, how cute. Weylin's Loot : Weylin Quickshot Skill XP Reward Stealth +1XP Observation +1XP Running +1XP Lore: Allure of The Bay Cautious In The Darkness Concealed Remorse Within Struggle For Humanity Reckless With A Lover's Life Crushing Guilt Of Irrevocable Failure Items or Consequences: None Notes: Wow... Weylin has anger management issues. Also you way overplay your brawling and body building, I can't award you either of these. Ontop of this, when somebody had a knife to your friends through don't just pull at them, from how I see this scene that should have killed Valo. Rashness is not the answer. Furthermore, this man's blade should have been more than enough to injure Weylin in a fight, even if she did take the first hit. In addition, Weylin's stealth is not advanced enough to sneak up on a highly agitated individual. That is all regarding your first post... The Second post... dagger/knife skill... uh.... nough said. Also... how many times in this thread are you going to try to kill Valo by proxy while he is under blade point? Wow, and acrobatics/bodybuilding, I'm totally agape at your imagined skill levels. You simply can not do these things, and when I am done we are going to have some fun with the consequences sheet if Wrenmae doesn't beat me to it. *reads on* Oh and look at that, he did. Goodie. Wrenmae's Loot : Wrenmae Sek Skill XP Reward Intimidation +3 Rapier +1XP Logic +1XP Rhetoric +1XP Stealth +1XP Lore: So Hard To Find Good Brainless Thugs Ever Testing A Force of Steel Within The Shadow Compassion in The Strike Decisive Strike Rogues Do It From Behind Father of Revenge In A Sacrificial Birth Items or Consequences: None Notes: Dude, gods hate you. (Comments) - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, please PM me.