Emerald leaves grazed the rotted roof of an old tea house, whispering softly against curved gables, telling it's balconies shreds of secrets about what was to come that day yet no one within would ever know. Jackson sat under the shade of this deciduous canopy along the berth of an outdoor table while drinking quietly. The birds leaped vividly above him as if their songs were as tightly knit as the very branches that blocked the noon day sun. Tan lines from missing prayer beads marked his left wrist because they were given away along with their devotion. He already felt much too close to the pantheon of celestials, so out here without the object`s intention the man could not help but feel even closer. Life was resonating all around him, especially as a freak storm showered the Wildlands in the glory of Makutsi for only a brief juncture. Then like a despondent thought that cleaved a mind in pieces the rain was gone, leaving only wet clothes, damp wood and a full cup.
Jackson's right arm had been recently sown together, broad needles still punctured the skin, contorting the graft with elongated stitching. It was as if some part had been severed, sweetly cut to be forgotten by any who may glance down. It was a marking. That of murder. That of ties. The instrument of his veins had new strings now. Nikali called to him. They all did. Gods and goddess. Parted like sand and the grain of paper being shrouded in subtle strokes of poised calligraphy.
In the light his right arm shook softly, a physical manifestation to the moments that could not be shut out. The chains and the bodies. The service of his limbs and the force of what he tore apart. Vexation they called it.. Lust filled his cup and emptied as swiftly. Constantly emptied, yet continually refilled. The liquid cooled only in the belly of a man who did not drink. He drank tea.. it was green and warm and even without parting like a spring.
The ocean dulled each sound. Forever sleeping and toiling, but there was still the melody of birds. A fragrance of leaping whirlwinds. Music made by the very frets of muscles and percussion of vertebrae. The blood scent. Ink drawn over stone sucked into his brush to be basked and burned against paper. rich velvet. Gripped till the tension knotted.
He drank tea. And sniffed as a stray leaf hit his nose. Squinting towards the noise of new customers Jackson watched a small bear walk on both hands and legs toward him.
"What do you want Kelvic."
His voice laid down like the most even blade of bamboo. The creature's fur was both black and white while it's words were small as the curve of the wrist while painting.
"A manuscript you seek is hidden nearby."
Jackson's eyes stared into his own reflection.
"Tell me the rest."
His throat grinded coarsely with a depth that emptied like a well, but the creature's response was only mired with the etchings of mild surprise.
"Guarded by the echoes of great power."
They paused, listening to a great creak of trees cover the thoughts of the patrons.
"I know this strength in my bones."
The creature's beady eyes watched him solemnly.
"You do. Please come with me."
Jackson's fingers touched the cup feeling it's supple exterior. He rose causing but a ripple over the surface of it's innards, but beyond suddenly lifted no structure of song. In his head a reckless word bounced back yet there was only serenity on the surface like a poised cat.
"Yes."
His response was a single pounding drum beat, shivered as the new dawn`s frost and spoke through a raven's lone call.
- Getting Started
- Help
- Master Lists
- Useful Links
- Features
(Flashback) Disciple of Stone
(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.
(Flashback) Disciple of Stone
by Jackson LaCroix on June 24th, 2010, 8:16 pm
Last edited by Jackson LaCroix on June 25th, 2010, 5:21 am, edited 3 times in total.
-
Jackson LaCroix - Player
- Posts: 51
- Words: 31983
- Joined roleplay: April 11th, 2010, 5:10 am
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
(Flashback) Disciple of Stone
by Jackson LaCroix on June 24th, 2010, 8:19 pm
Leaving the inn Jackson paced towards the woods. The aging structure was one of the few places in the Wildlands that still held a glimmer of peace for some travelers despite being under constant ravage. It's weathered beams and moss covered troughs gave off the appearance of a turtle shell dug in deep from this distance, for LaCroix's parting glance held history.
Stepping through a twinkling of saturation, the bold green forest spoke louder now, it's whispers drying his clothes and tickling his body's pores. The majesty of the colors nearly hid the kelvic bear entirely beneath the ground level vegetation, but what could be seen of the animal was sharply contrasted by patterns of brown from the heights of trunks and forgotten mushrooms. Moving sagaciously the human studied each plant, every broken twig and smudged paw print. The pair eventually turned onto a small game trail watching a mud covered boar digging for truffles. Being down wind Cross breathed in the scent of the pig's matted fur, acknowledging it's presence and approximate location even before breaking the foliage that revealed it's tusks. Reorientating himself to the mountains and the sun, he continued to kneel down on occasion, spotting rabbits between the clover, the crisp juice of berries and a well traversed bed of quail and deer tracks. The freshest trails laid wet into mud but when overlapped were difficult to separate. Intonations of mass, speed and health were all written into the dirt, so as Jackson scanned the terrain closely he could make out deeper edges and volume to the paw prints and claws. The weight of a chipmunk had been embedded in a left turn of the body as was indicated by a deeper press of the west side of the miniature tracks.
Appreciating the many forms of tracking allowed Cross to keep his bearings while searching for a single animal's presence. Understanding not only direction but motivation was integral. What type of creature was it, what did it eat, where was that food located? Where was the nearest water source? Was it a river, puddle, fern rich with dew? Where did the beast fit in the food chain, where was its territory, enemies or predators? Anticipating questions like these increased LaCroix's awareness to the interrelation of the natural world. It existed as a balance that implied both trust and caution instinctively.
As the bear made a sharp left turn down along a rocky cove, the withering trail melted into a deep ditch. Lightening had struck a large maple tree on the bank, leaving it smoldering and charred above them. The smoking remains aligned themselves with an opposition of thought. That of power; factors that could not be accounted for like the incision of struggle, imbalance or naked survival. Harmony opposed by the shuffling cards of chaos if they dealt into the same game.. Was what he saw new boundaries of natural order driven by progress or simply self preservation and proliferation crashing against one another without tandem. Layers of order appeared to co-exist with random forces like a greater balance between earth and heaven yet could it simply be a set of great scales that fell from one direction to the next from the weight of power, worth, and force of the unforeseen. Cause and effect. Consistency and balance infused with the raw fissure of the unseen, motions both strong and weak. A dualistic perspective that sat as two stones in the center of a sea of nondualism.
Tracking the animals around him and noticing the subtly of his surroundings accommodated to give Jackson a clearer perspective of where they were headed. The terrain became steeper as they passed through a copse of birch wood, with their alabaster skin peeling like healed sunburns. There was less resistance to becoming aware of one's inner state and measure of thoughts out here in the wild, shifting perception to the surrounding environment with out exterior stimuli and crafted distractions. The sensation was both liberating and in some way solitary, yet it was not hard to imagine existing out here for great lengths of time when the jackals and predators that hunted these lands moved miles beyond. Cross meditated upon all these thoughts, allowing their wisdom to cascade through his body, unifying the five senses and alleviate the boundaries between the many pathways of djed and base functions of his form. He began to learn that to control himself involved not only the internal but an innate pliancy with the external, as the two were less dissimilar then he once believed. So to cultivate unformed djed involved not only his own power but an influx of the penetrable world around him. As far as reasoning goes it was simply the bending of a reflection that once existed flat; a dimensional paradigm that verged on new depths. Again the wooden needles and stitching in his arm gave off a pang of annoyance, the raw wound was extremely sensitive to the brush of nearby herbs let alone muscle strain and hard branches.
Reaching the severe base of a towering rock face, the bear cub and human both fit tightly through a crack in it's features. If ever traversing these wild woods before travelers would be hard pressed to have seen the depth of such a shrouded passage, as it blended with the flatness of it's exterior seamlessly. Holding one's breath and constricting both lungs would allow a normal sized human passage to the opposite side, but for one of Jackson's history it was not so hard of a task to contort the frame of his chest. The recess finally spilled open into an alcove surrounded by walls of mountainous granite on all sides like a fortress or secret garden. There was a cultivated field, small farmhouse, fruit bearing trees in blossom and many animals that were at some point tame within. The place looked abandoned but just barely while ancient carved windows, elaborate doors, full bodied statues and crumbling faces dotted the cliff side in every direction. The exaggerated bodies had been chiseled in a very ancient style, their symbolism and religious iconography nearly untranslatable in present terms. With wide eyes and open mouths the monsters or gods looked down at the new arrivals with a combination of both horror and dominant reverence. Some held curved weapons, others twin ornamentation, yet cavities built for jewels had been long hacked away while the most protruded limbs and horns either laid crumbling at their feet or stolen. Flowers, swords, phurbas, cups, lamps, prayer wheels, crowns, dorjes and conches lined the open and clenched hands of these creatures. Jackson could make out representations of deities only by key symbols like the triangle of Akajia or the hourglass of Tanroa. Some held animals in one arm such as snakes or cats, while other had exposed sexual organs and exaggerated tongues. Within the chest of a figure with no face was an open door, and upon the forehead of the kneeling figure beside lifted a great beam of light. The language of the chisel marks was foreign while more prominent slashes bore the reckless precision of an archaeology dig. Dried blood and bones lay strewn under the remains of splintered scaffolding suggesting a gruesome end for the overly greedy or curious.
Stepping through a twinkling of saturation, the bold green forest spoke louder now, it's whispers drying his clothes and tickling his body's pores. The majesty of the colors nearly hid the kelvic bear entirely beneath the ground level vegetation, but what could be seen of the animal was sharply contrasted by patterns of brown from the heights of trunks and forgotten mushrooms. Moving sagaciously the human studied each plant, every broken twig and smudged paw print. The pair eventually turned onto a small game trail watching a mud covered boar digging for truffles. Being down wind Cross breathed in the scent of the pig's matted fur, acknowledging it's presence and approximate location even before breaking the foliage that revealed it's tusks. Reorientating himself to the mountains and the sun, he continued to kneel down on occasion, spotting rabbits between the clover, the crisp juice of berries and a well traversed bed of quail and deer tracks. The freshest trails laid wet into mud but when overlapped were difficult to separate. Intonations of mass, speed and health were all written into the dirt, so as Jackson scanned the terrain closely he could make out deeper edges and volume to the paw prints and claws. The weight of a chipmunk had been embedded in a left turn of the body as was indicated by a deeper press of the west side of the miniature tracks.
Appreciating the many forms of tracking allowed Cross to keep his bearings while searching for a single animal's presence. Understanding not only direction but motivation was integral. What type of creature was it, what did it eat, where was that food located? Where was the nearest water source? Was it a river, puddle, fern rich with dew? Where did the beast fit in the food chain, where was its territory, enemies or predators? Anticipating questions like these increased LaCroix's awareness to the interrelation of the natural world. It existed as a balance that implied both trust and caution instinctively.
As the bear made a sharp left turn down along a rocky cove, the withering trail melted into a deep ditch. Lightening had struck a large maple tree on the bank, leaving it smoldering and charred above them. The smoking remains aligned themselves with an opposition of thought. That of power; factors that could not be accounted for like the incision of struggle, imbalance or naked survival. Harmony opposed by the shuffling cards of chaos if they dealt into the same game.. Was what he saw new boundaries of natural order driven by progress or simply self preservation and proliferation crashing against one another without tandem. Layers of order appeared to co-exist with random forces like a greater balance between earth and heaven yet could it simply be a set of great scales that fell from one direction to the next from the weight of power, worth, and force of the unforeseen. Cause and effect. Consistency and balance infused with the raw fissure of the unseen, motions both strong and weak. A dualistic perspective that sat as two stones in the center of a sea of nondualism.
Tracking the animals around him and noticing the subtly of his surroundings accommodated to give Jackson a clearer perspective of where they were headed. The terrain became steeper as they passed through a copse of birch wood, with their alabaster skin peeling like healed sunburns. There was less resistance to becoming aware of one's inner state and measure of thoughts out here in the wild, shifting perception to the surrounding environment with out exterior stimuli and crafted distractions. The sensation was both liberating and in some way solitary, yet it was not hard to imagine existing out here for great lengths of time when the jackals and predators that hunted these lands moved miles beyond. Cross meditated upon all these thoughts, allowing their wisdom to cascade through his body, unifying the five senses and alleviate the boundaries between the many pathways of djed and base functions of his form. He began to learn that to control himself involved not only the internal but an innate pliancy with the external, as the two were less dissimilar then he once believed. So to cultivate unformed djed involved not only his own power but an influx of the penetrable world around him. As far as reasoning goes it was simply the bending of a reflection that once existed flat; a dimensional paradigm that verged on new depths. Again the wooden needles and stitching in his arm gave off a pang of annoyance, the raw wound was extremely sensitive to the brush of nearby herbs let alone muscle strain and hard branches.
Reaching the severe base of a towering rock face, the bear cub and human both fit tightly through a crack in it's features. If ever traversing these wild woods before travelers would be hard pressed to have seen the depth of such a shrouded passage, as it blended with the flatness of it's exterior seamlessly. Holding one's breath and constricting both lungs would allow a normal sized human passage to the opposite side, but for one of Jackson's history it was not so hard of a task to contort the frame of his chest. The recess finally spilled open into an alcove surrounded by walls of mountainous granite on all sides like a fortress or secret garden. There was a cultivated field, small farmhouse, fruit bearing trees in blossom and many animals that were at some point tame within. The place looked abandoned but just barely while ancient carved windows, elaborate doors, full bodied statues and crumbling faces dotted the cliff side in every direction. The exaggerated bodies had been chiseled in a very ancient style, their symbolism and religious iconography nearly untranslatable in present terms. With wide eyes and open mouths the monsters or gods looked down at the new arrivals with a combination of both horror and dominant reverence. Some held curved weapons, others twin ornamentation, yet cavities built for jewels had been long hacked away while the most protruded limbs and horns either laid crumbling at their feet or stolen. Flowers, swords, phurbas, cups, lamps, prayer wheels, crowns, dorjes and conches lined the open and clenched hands of these creatures. Jackson could make out representations of deities only by key symbols like the triangle of Akajia or the hourglass of Tanroa. Some held animals in one arm such as snakes or cats, while other had exposed sexual organs and exaggerated tongues. Within the chest of a figure with no face was an open door, and upon the forehead of the kneeling figure beside lifted a great beam of light. The language of the chisel marks was foreign while more prominent slashes bore the reckless precision of an archaeology dig. Dried blood and bones lay strewn under the remains of splintered scaffolding suggesting a gruesome end for the overly greedy or curious.
Last edited by Jackson LaCroix on June 25th, 2010, 1:57 pm, edited 2 times in total.
-
Jackson LaCroix - Player
- Posts: 51
- Words: 31983
- Joined roleplay: April 11th, 2010, 5:10 am
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
(Flashback) Disciple of Stone
by Jackson LaCroix on June 24th, 2010, 8:23 pm
The bear continued to walk forward oblivious to the stark breathtaking heights aloft, so when Jackson did decide to persevere past the exposed farmhouse and empty well who's bucket still rattled quietly below he had to break line of sight with the opposite end of the canyon. Walking over the hill, a sharp black silhouette punctured the ambiance below. Standing on an effigy of stone skulls beneath the legs to a monstrous creature wielding a wicked great sword driven blade down stood an imposing figure of over ten feet in height. It's massive shoulders were obscured by interwoven black robes made from coarse material. It's face was hidden by the depths of a hood and it mimicked the pose of the ancient fossilized deity above, who's horned head, violent fangs and staring hollow eyes beat down ominously. There was a vain and vague presence of foreboding authority and unyielding weight of manifestation to the hooded figure's pose. Something so ghastly that merely by looking at it the viewer would want to turn their head away or remove it from the scene like some scandalous paint mark cast into the light of a warm hued masterpiece. The imperfection was captivating because it moved and existed in monochromatic contrast to the terms of it's environment. Jackson took a swig from his water gourd, re-corking the object and letting the hollow object swing from his hips as he walked down to meet the figure. Meanwhile the kelvic bear laid down by the statue's right foot while a monkey inquisitively eating a peach sat just over him on the large toe.
The human approached almost casually, as if encountering disproportionate hulking figures was an everyday occurrence. He looked up and strained his neck but did not wait.
"The sensation was so strong I had it cut from my arm.. but here you are brother-(suvan)."
The creature said nothing, but the wind fluttering through it's robes spoke for it. Upon closer inspection the shadow`s mass protruded against it's clothing at sharp angles like bones that grew in both directions from the joint. Black beads served as a long belt while fine leather vanbraces and greaves clung to it's limbs tailored with soft curves and regal stitching. The shadow leaped down with a thunderous crack to greet him. Immovable it advanced regardless, facing Jackson in an open martial stance, arms extended, shoulders and hips turned with knees slightly bent. It was a pre-Valterrain Suvan style stance, harsh and brutal yet deceptively basic. Jackson's unshaven features broke into a grin. He folded his body into a lower form, with legs widely extended and arms reaching out like hooks. With the obvious size difference of the opponents there were well known strategies to overcome both mass and weight, speed being but one of them. A viper style had been taught to him by an imprisoned Dhani beneath the floating buildings of Ravok. The black gash opposing him lifted a blotted boot to kick through Cross's upper torso. Weaving his arms rhythmically with the waiting delay of a snake, the man timed the release of tension from his legs to influence his hips seconds later then with a wave of fluid motion Jackson had slid diagonally out, zigzagging left around the attack to bend right below the over-sized calve only to slip left again with the coil of the reptile he so effortlessly mimicked. Both hands pierced like jaws into the ankles of the behemoth's one stationary leg, attacking the trunk of it's stability with the intention to puncture skin and inject a poison of discharging energy. He focused on the location of veins drawn from memory, snapping out to taint nerve clusters, pressure points and djed pathways. Breathing evenly as the giant's kick returned heel first to crush him like a forge hammer, the man extended his spine in a crescent shaped curve hands and head first away from the blow, tumbling backwards under the quantity of the heavy foot's direction. His fingers hurt from the incision of breaking cloth and skin, but with a snap and turn of the wrist he had delivered a blow that should have begun to slow and collect the blood within into bruised swelling pockets of skin.
It was a very difficult thing to do but months spent practicing the style and sweating within the confines of gladiatorial fight pits had paid their due. The real secret was the intention and belief put behind each strike, becoming more and more alike the deadly venomous snake with every starving kill. The Dhani had realigned his belief in the power of the mind over body, stressing the use of djed and a very well versed understanding of human anatomy. That old viper was one of the few of it`s kind Jackson had encountered that ever held wisdom beyond the primal function of it`s gift. Like a weeping poet creating verses using tears for ink and hair as a thick brush, the snake`s strength became self sustaining in it`s zeal. As the man struck now, each nuance he learned oozed out of him like the ichor he sought to inject into the veins of this would be enemy.
Channeling djed to his hands burned them so badly LaCroix glanced down to see if they were still intact. Whatever the attacking creature was made of, it`s ankle reacted to his attack like a volatile explosive protecting an inner collection of refined energy. The damage was done regardless, for as the blond man somersaulted nearly out of harm`s way it was obvious the shadow did not wish to place weight down on it`s right leg. Rolling back onto his wrists, the human pressed his pitched weight into the air and connected both feet to the wall far above the shattered slab floor. With precision the warrior lifted off a stone skull in order to flip out onto the massive crown of the creature`s shrouded head. Landing with a command, Jackson`s poised snake hands punctured down like a maul through steel plated armor, digging at the brute`s exposed brain matter. Unleashing an unearthly bellow the beast`s rasping fingers sought to wrestle the man clear and alleviate the sensation. Jackson rolled right swiftly away from the first open palm onto the spiked shelf of it`s shoulders, kicking out into a scissor of leg kicks that split the fabric of his mount`s cowl. They dug their bladed fangs so deep into the monster`s flesh he could not immediately get clear. Flailing, the other hand found him at that exact moment, wrenching LaCroix`s now dark crimson boots from the cavity of it`s own windpipe, pouring rich blood over the elongation of a heaving chest. Both hands slapped together to grind their opponent`s bones and it took every expulsion of djed Jackson had kept reserved to stop his body from imploding like a pitless fruit. Djed electrified his insides causing spasms and uncontrollable seizures, filling his bones with lambent blue energy that crystallized every thought into action. Just at the point where the symbiosis of flux was about to cannibalize his organs completely Jackson felt the release of the shrouded creature`s hands, letting him fall to the earth as it dropped even faster. Landing in a sea of red liquid pouring from the giant`s neck, the warrior`s drenched body stood up and watched it die. Cutting the sharp edge of his palm through the remains of the monster`s hood, Jackson was not surprised to see strained and humanoid features meshed with something that held the remnants of the statue that towered over them both. Choking on it`s last breathe, the monster`s glistening eyes stared back horrifically.
"Brother.. (suvan)"
The blond human remained composed, extending his left arm into the motion of a viper`s scales but the black shadow`s life faded away without any further assailment. Crawling up the wall of skeletons Jackson found what he was seeking from the beginning, a chest carved into the recess of the stone with the same symbol that rested on the small of his back. A combination of his own blood and that of the dead giant leaked off his fingers into the crevices of the sandy vault, which snapped open immediately upon contact without resistance. Inside lay a single bound scroll, sealed in gold with soft paper so ancient that the immaculate ink showed through from the interior in a diversity of colors. The entire manuscript appeared to be made in some timeless void outside of any linear understanding or catastrophic history. Cleaning his wincing hands, LaCroix reached in the take the coveted knowledge. As his taunt fingers touched the paper he heard but one thing, the wheezing laugh of the monkey that was watching him from the statue`s foot. Closing the lid of the scroll`s case he looped it`s tapered and knotted rope through his belt and looked up. The monkey raised it`s paws to clap.
The human approached almost casually, as if encountering disproportionate hulking figures was an everyday occurrence. He looked up and strained his neck but did not wait.
"The sensation was so strong I had it cut from my arm.. but here you are brother-(suvan)."
The creature said nothing, but the wind fluttering through it's robes spoke for it. Upon closer inspection the shadow`s mass protruded against it's clothing at sharp angles like bones that grew in both directions from the joint. Black beads served as a long belt while fine leather vanbraces and greaves clung to it's limbs tailored with soft curves and regal stitching. The shadow leaped down with a thunderous crack to greet him. Immovable it advanced regardless, facing Jackson in an open martial stance, arms extended, shoulders and hips turned with knees slightly bent. It was a pre-Valterrain Suvan style stance, harsh and brutal yet deceptively basic. Jackson's unshaven features broke into a grin. He folded his body into a lower form, with legs widely extended and arms reaching out like hooks. With the obvious size difference of the opponents there were well known strategies to overcome both mass and weight, speed being but one of them. A viper style had been taught to him by an imprisoned Dhani beneath the floating buildings of Ravok. The black gash opposing him lifted a blotted boot to kick through Cross's upper torso. Weaving his arms rhythmically with the waiting delay of a snake, the man timed the release of tension from his legs to influence his hips seconds later then with a wave of fluid motion Jackson had slid diagonally out, zigzagging left around the attack to bend right below the over-sized calve only to slip left again with the coil of the reptile he so effortlessly mimicked. Both hands pierced like jaws into the ankles of the behemoth's one stationary leg, attacking the trunk of it's stability with the intention to puncture skin and inject a poison of discharging energy. He focused on the location of veins drawn from memory, snapping out to taint nerve clusters, pressure points and djed pathways. Breathing evenly as the giant's kick returned heel first to crush him like a forge hammer, the man extended his spine in a crescent shaped curve hands and head first away from the blow, tumbling backwards under the quantity of the heavy foot's direction. His fingers hurt from the incision of breaking cloth and skin, but with a snap and turn of the wrist he had delivered a blow that should have begun to slow and collect the blood within into bruised swelling pockets of skin.
It was a very difficult thing to do but months spent practicing the style and sweating within the confines of gladiatorial fight pits had paid their due. The real secret was the intention and belief put behind each strike, becoming more and more alike the deadly venomous snake with every starving kill. The Dhani had realigned his belief in the power of the mind over body, stressing the use of djed and a very well versed understanding of human anatomy. That old viper was one of the few of it`s kind Jackson had encountered that ever held wisdom beyond the primal function of it`s gift. Like a weeping poet creating verses using tears for ink and hair as a thick brush, the snake`s strength became self sustaining in it`s zeal. As the man struck now, each nuance he learned oozed out of him like the ichor he sought to inject into the veins of this would be enemy.
Channeling djed to his hands burned them so badly LaCroix glanced down to see if they were still intact. Whatever the attacking creature was made of, it`s ankle reacted to his attack like a volatile explosive protecting an inner collection of refined energy. The damage was done regardless, for as the blond man somersaulted nearly out of harm`s way it was obvious the shadow did not wish to place weight down on it`s right leg. Rolling back onto his wrists, the human pressed his pitched weight into the air and connected both feet to the wall far above the shattered slab floor. With precision the warrior lifted off a stone skull in order to flip out onto the massive crown of the creature`s shrouded head. Landing with a command, Jackson`s poised snake hands punctured down like a maul through steel plated armor, digging at the brute`s exposed brain matter. Unleashing an unearthly bellow the beast`s rasping fingers sought to wrestle the man clear and alleviate the sensation. Jackson rolled right swiftly away from the first open palm onto the spiked shelf of it`s shoulders, kicking out into a scissor of leg kicks that split the fabric of his mount`s cowl. They dug their bladed fangs so deep into the monster`s flesh he could not immediately get clear. Flailing, the other hand found him at that exact moment, wrenching LaCroix`s now dark crimson boots from the cavity of it`s own windpipe, pouring rich blood over the elongation of a heaving chest. Both hands slapped together to grind their opponent`s bones and it took every expulsion of djed Jackson had kept reserved to stop his body from imploding like a pitless fruit. Djed electrified his insides causing spasms and uncontrollable seizures, filling his bones with lambent blue energy that crystallized every thought into action. Just at the point where the symbiosis of flux was about to cannibalize his organs completely Jackson felt the release of the shrouded creature`s hands, letting him fall to the earth as it dropped even faster. Landing in a sea of red liquid pouring from the giant`s neck, the warrior`s drenched body stood up and watched it die. Cutting the sharp edge of his palm through the remains of the monster`s hood, Jackson was not surprised to see strained and humanoid features meshed with something that held the remnants of the statue that towered over them both. Choking on it`s last breathe, the monster`s glistening eyes stared back horrifically.
"Brother.. (suvan)"
The blond human remained composed, extending his left arm into the motion of a viper`s scales but the black shadow`s life faded away without any further assailment. Crawling up the wall of skeletons Jackson found what he was seeking from the beginning, a chest carved into the recess of the stone with the same symbol that rested on the small of his back. A combination of his own blood and that of the dead giant leaked off his fingers into the crevices of the sandy vault, which snapped open immediately upon contact without resistance. Inside lay a single bound scroll, sealed in gold with soft paper so ancient that the immaculate ink showed through from the interior in a diversity of colors. The entire manuscript appeared to be made in some timeless void outside of any linear understanding or catastrophic history. Cleaning his wincing hands, LaCroix reached in the take the coveted knowledge. As his taunt fingers touched the paper he heard but one thing, the wheezing laugh of the monkey that was watching him from the statue`s foot. Closing the lid of the scroll`s case he looped it`s tapered and knotted rope through his belt and looked up. The monkey raised it`s paws to clap.
-
Jackson LaCroix - Player
- Posts: 51
- Words: 31983
- Joined roleplay: April 11th, 2010, 5:10 am
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
(Flashback) Disciple of Stone
by Kelpie on July 1st, 2010, 8:17 am
|
4 posts • Page 1 of 1
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests