Dream a Little Dream

[Amunet]

Amunet probably should have closed her eyes for a bit, but the anxiety of the unknown of what they faced had her mind turning things over as well as trying to procure details from the precipice before her. The rhythm of the grasslands did manage to relax her to a degree. Her eyes coursed over to the large watchman. He even looked as if he may say something, but the other member of their party broke the quiet. There was a barely audible soft sigh as the watchman entertained the questions.

At some point, the watchman got up and knelt close to her to say that it was time. She nodded as she got up slow and easy like. She left Toite to wander with the stallion as she shouldered her pack and yvas bag. She looked at the bow and quiver that she knew nothing about using to wonder if she should take it along. Those fingers trailed across the crafted wood of the shortbow as she tried to decide. She had enough to carry and decided to leave it on the horse. When she turned she noticed that the watchman was caring light. That face contorted with a look of disagreement. Does he not realize that an expedition doesn’t travel on bravery alone? It seemed she was sighing a lot this night as she followed the default leader.

He stopped at a particular location. Just stopped. Amunet’s head swiveled slowly to the side in wondering what he stopped for. She even followed Lodai’s head up as he looked at the rise of Leth. The wonder that happened before her hit her like ice water. There was a gasp that escaped from her as she saw the magic. It seemed like magic to her. Lodai said take nothing. What would she take? She thought as she nodded to him as she fell into step. One hand was on the wall as she made steady steps. She didn’t move as fast as Lodai but it was steady. The lack of a railing was a bit unnerving but she didn’t focus on that. She focused on the bloody damned staircase that was starting to make her legs burn the further they moved on. When they stopped to rest, she was sweating quite well.

[Brocton Firestone]

Brocton looked past Lodai, the Watchman as the non bonded Drykas sat, he was curious to know what the man thought, but he wasn't expecting something so prudent, it was sudden, dull and unlikely that Lodai would respond with something encouraging, what has happened to the Watchman to make him feel so stern... it confused Brocton.

Brocton rolled up his blanket and piled it back onto Jinx's back, Brocton wished not to leave his Strider, he hoped that she would stay from getting into trouble, after tying down the blanket, Brocton pondered whether to take his Longsword, or his shortbow. He figured that he should take both, and his waterskin, the blonde figured that that would be highly important. He walked back around the front of Jinx and kissed her forehead, [color=#01EEF1]"Stay safe." He spoke in a whisper like tone.

He hurried after Lodai and Amunet as the two started to make way for Leth's tower. Lodai ordered them to take nothing from this place, why would Brocton do such a thing... he isn't greedy, and he's not a thief, so he wouldn't have to worry about anything to take in the first place, in fact, that thought never crossed his mind.

Eventually the trio made it to Leth's tower.

Brocton was in awe of the archeological design of this ageing domain, the tower rose well over their heads, and nearly in the heavens above. He gasped, it was amazing, the design, he sore he heard Amunet gasp as well, though he wasn't sure whether she was intrigued by the length of the tower, or it was something else, but he assumed that it was the tower. Then the stairs appeared and they looked to be just as old as the tower itself. Lodai said to climb the stairs, Brocton wasn't very fast, the shortbow and longsword weighed him down, but the blonde made sure to be careful and to not look down.

Once the trio stopped, one thing for sure, the hunter was surely worn out, and they still have a ways to go.

[/color]

BROCTON FIRESTONE

[Prophet]

Lodai rose carefully on the steps that wound up the side of the cliff. He looked over at his charges and gave them a patient look. “It’s time we continue.” He turned and headed up the steps, his legs protesting from the exertion. It took nearly half a bell to finish the ascension to the plateau. The moonlight bathed them all in a silvery light that, like water, seemed to permeate their skin, hair and garments. Once Lodai reached the top, he stepped off to one side and waited so that he could help each person in his group safely onto the flat ground. Finally, they had reached their destination. In the center of the large plateau sat a crumbled estate.

The ruins resembled the kind of architecture that once covered all of Alhea. A large rectangular wall lay in pieces and framed the property. Inside was a series of smaller buildings that could have been any number of things but a smithy and stable would certainly be among them. The majority of rocks and rubble were clustered in the center of the large box. One upon a time, this was the home of a powerful mage. The tower was high enough to see in all directions and also gave the wizard a closer proximity to his lord, the man in the moon, Leth. A good portion of the tower remained but there were several places where the stones opened up to reveal the inside halls. The upper levels have collapsed down on the lower ones so the very core of the tower was nothing more than a pile of dust and stone.

Lodai paused at the place where a gatehouse once stood. He looked to Amunet and then to Brocton. His eyes were calm but they showed a great deal of concern for what was before the group. “Be on your guards.” He whispered to his companions. The big man did not have his weapon drawn but he did not seem to care, either. He crossed the threshold and for some reason, he only made it a few steps before stopping and staring at what looked like nothing. A short conversation ensued and then the watchman nodded.

His big form staggered back as if struck by something but when he turned back to face Amunet and Brocton, his voice and eyes were different. The light brown rings had been replaced by pure black orbs and his voice was deeper, more refined and more accustomed to a higher vocabulary. In Common, Lodai addressed the duo. When Leth’s light touched Lodai, the voice was strong and easily heard. When the clouds diminished the light, the powerful tone became soft.

“Why have you come here this night? Have you no respect for the dead?” The big man flexed and towered over the two . “My host insists you are reverent people but I see no offering. What gifts do you bear for my lord?”

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

[Brocton Firestone]

Inside Itone's Tower- Brocton felt a sensation of... insecurity, the man of a Drykas wanted nothing to do with this place, he was curious nonetheless, but what happens if your too curious? What would the hunter have to pay in return to this... Itone so to speak, Brocton hadn't ever heard of the man/God whatever he was, and Ferem expects himself, Lodai, and Amunet to save the world of Mizahar, or at least Endrykas itself? But, so far, no dangers had come for the Tent City of Endrykas, and nothing will. Brocton was sure of it, but he was upset, having to leave early in the morning. By now, he'd be hunting, or at least he hoped to. Coin runs low for the Firestone pavillion and he can't wait any longer to earn it.

Though, he refrained from letting his anger get the best of him; especially on this journey and now with Lodai around. He didn't want to upset the Watchman, well, that's what Brocton assumed he was. Ferem called him the Calmer of the Storms, is it true that he can do such things? And all Brocton was, was that he was known to be a Walahk- yes jealousy has gotten to him, but he won't show it here. He could be alone some other time and be angry of his being a Non-Drykas, but he'll be one soon, hopefully.

They've stopped at what used to be, some sort of gatehouse for the tower's entrance.

“Be on your guards.” Lodai whispered, Brocton nodded and exhaled quietly, calming himself down. He gripped onto his short bow, knuckles white, just in case for danger. Walking carefully, he stayed a few paces behind Lodai, knowing that he knew what he was doing, or at least Brocton had hoped so. The hunter felt odd... Brocton didn't feel right in this tower at all, what was he supposed to do? Then, Lodai turned suddenly to them, and his voice was... different, it didn't sound like it did a few ticks a go. Did it?


“Why have you come here this night? Have you no respect for the dead?” His tone was soft, but it held order. Brocton felt queasy inside. He didn't expect anyone would dwell here after so long, with this building nearly turning to dust and rubble. Though, it probably was supported by magic or something, to ward the other mages away.

Lodai came closer to Brocton and Amunet. Brocton was unsure of what Lodai was doing. “My host insists you are reverent people but I see no offering. What gifts do you bear for my lord?” Brocton gulped down some air. He was nervous, and this heat isn't making things any more comforting as he hoped.

What did he have to offer? He really didn't have anything that he can give away... he didn't know what to do. Brocton looked over to Amunet. Then back at Lodai. Or the spirit possessing Lodai. He cleared his throat, "I have my skills as a hunter..." Brocton started, he held up his short bow as it was fairly dented and scratched upon. He looked over to Amunet, hoping that she has something more? He really didn't know what to say? The only thing he could offer up was his skills of being a hunter, maybe honor his killings for Itone? At least, he hoped that was his best bet?

BROCTON FIRESTONE

[Prophet]

The black eyes of Lodai stared at Brocton then lifted to watch the woman flee. It was the brief pause of a chime before the weighty gaze returned to lock stares with the hunter. The question was sound but it appeared that the guest within the watchman was sanguine about the reply he received from the well-built young man. “Well, hunter, I may yet have a use for your skills. Follow me.” Lodai did not hesitate and turned in a rather awkward fashion as if he was unfamiliar in his own skin. The steps seemed to mimic those of a newborn foal who had yet to figure out his own balance. The heavy man’s boots traveled along a cobblestone path that was mostly overgrown by grasses and weeds but Leth’s light revealed enough that Brocton would be able to follow with ease.

Several chimes went by before anything was said and it only came when Lodai stopped walking. The husk of the man turned and with his unnatural gaze, he peered into Brocton’s eyes. The deep and regal voice once more rose with the light of the moon to address the slighter human. “You will be tested this night. Your life rests in the space of your patience…not your weapons.” By this time, both figures were standing amidst the highest portion of the remaining building. The crumbling stones seemed to be fairly stable in this spot and if one had the knowledge, he would know they stood within the keep. Its rickety stairway spiraled upward to floors that have long since collapsed so the image simply conveyed a pathway to the heavens. Lodai looked up with those black eyes; a gaze that seemed to pierce time and space. The man took a deep breath and turned to speak to his companion when then sound of a horse screaming in the distance interrupted the thought.

A chime went by…then two or was it five? The eerie silence that followed was crushing to the Drykas men. Their horses were their livelihood, their status and their family so that dreadful sound echoed over and over again in their minds. Should Brocton try to run back to the stairwell along the Cliffside, he would find his way blocked by a much larger man- Lodai. The black eyes had been replaced by the dark brown orbs of the watchman but he was still acting strange. His voice had changed back to the gruff Pavi that belonged to the warrior.

“Firestone, we have to find something that is hidden within the rubble.” Lodai used the light of Leth’s face to illuminate his hands which signed the words important and pale stone. “It’s a pestle which herbalists se to grind medicine.” He made the motion of one hand cupping a bowl while the other twisted a cylinder into the basin which crushed the herbs. “You start by the gatehouse and I’ll start by what’s left of the stables.” Lodai pointed to each location then made the sign for faith. He did not explain, he simply turned and walked away towards his chosen destination.

Brocton would find the remains of the gatehouse to be a metaphorical haystack. While the tower used to be comprised of stones that were dark grey, too many seasons of sun and rain had bleached out the initial color. Many of the stones were pale or even white which made locating the object feel like an insurmountable task. There were some strange looking blocks that the hunter would eventually come across but not without smashing a finger once or twice and scraping his body as the rubble shifted from the disturbance.

NoteGo into chat and roll a die. Use command “/roll 1d100” then copy and paste the results in a pm to me with the timestamp and your chat id. 1-50 will produce one result while 51-100 will produce another. The end game is the same, Brocton, but it’s the journey that counts.

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

[Brocton Firestone]

Firestone grew nervous, he didn't really know what was going on. When he saw Amunet run, his feet felt lodged almost, as if he couldn't decide what to do, the hunter was sure something was amidst, his body was telling him to stay. He didn't want something to happen to Lodai.

“Well, hunter, I may yet have a use for your skills. Follow me.”

Was what Lodai said- though it still wasn't him. He wondered what would happen, if Brocton was of use, than he could show.

Brocton nodded slowly, and followed Lodai. He was careful to not touch anything, including the rubble, he couldn't trust any of it at the moment. Though, he was sure that the rubble wasn't cursed or anything like it, for sure.

He noticed Lodais unbalanced walking; though kept to himself with small worry, assuming that everything's fine, he hoped they were, and he could trust Lodai.

Several chimes had soon passed, and they almost seemed like bells, he wished Amunet had returned, he didn't know what got her to leave, though he was sure Eventually, the reached an open clearing within the aging tower, Syna's light shown heavenly above and through the tower, giving a feeling that it felt more open like.

“You will be tested this night. Your life rests in the space of your patience…not your weapons.”

The hunter was nervous, he thought about his family, and he hoped that they weren't worried sick for him. Eventually, Brocton recovered from his nerves and he wanted out, his patience was nearly driven mad, and it had been almost so long...

at least he thought.

He hurried back to where they came from in a freight; the sudden silence of the night was eerie and creepy all at the same time. Though, before he could reach the cliff side from whence they came from, Lodai suddenly appeared and blocked his path.

"What- what is this?" Brocton said aloud, eyeing Lodai with a cautious glare.

“Firestone, we have to find something that is hidden within the rubble.”

He didn't want to look for something- he needed to head back, back home, but Lodai forbid him to pass.

"I need to know... know what's going on." Brocton demanded sourly, he was growing anxious, and timid at the same time, though fairly more annoyed than most at this point.

“It’s a pestle which herbalists se to grind medicine.”

"Why is it so important?" Brocton asked, eyeing the Watchman sternly. "What is this game you plan on playing me against?" Lodai used the light of Leth’s face to illuminate his hands which signed the words important and pale stone. “It’s a pestle which herbalists se to grind medicine.”

Anger, curious."This is mundane; almost madness. Why am I chosen, why am I here?" He wondered. Lodai seemed to be partially ignoring him. He took a few deep breaths and sighed, knowing that he won't get his answers.

"You start by the gatehouse and I’ll start by what’s left of the stables.” Lodai pointed to each location then made the sign for faith. He did not explain, he simply turned and walked away towards his chosen destination.


A pale stone.

That's what he was supposed to look for, just a pale stone- used for herbalist to see to grinding medicine. Brocton wandered over to the gatehouse, it was mostly rubble, barely any noticeable remains of the building to even call it a gatehouse. He wondered how this tower was run- he wondered what the purpose of this tower was. Brocton began to search for the pale stone, lifting and moving pieces of rubble around. In hopes of finding the stone- the sooner, the better. Every once in awhile, his fingers would be cut, and slowly bleeding, but Brocton would go through it without any worry. Hopefully, they would find the stone soon.

BROCTON FIRESTONE

[Prophet]

Lodai did not react to Brocton’s whining questions. The big man was used to order and propriety and the angsty musings of a walahk don’t fit in that kind of world. The deep brown eyes just stared at the young Firestone with a look that registered mild patience like an adult watching a child throw a fit. The interaction was brutal in its brief and abrupt ending. Lodai left to do his share of the work and trusted that Brocton would do the same. The bear of a man hadn’t set all of this in motion; Ferem had so for his companion to ask him ‘why?’ was pointless.

Brocton would find no pale stone in his area. No matter how many bricks he turned over or rocks he moved aside, the search would ultimately prove to yield no results in his quest. However, there was fruit provided from this labor. A small stack of rocks formed a dome most likely by accident. When the man was able to remove them and look underneath, he would find a small pile of three slim plates of shale. The off-color hunks were decorated with faded drawings. The first little image was of a person’s wrist and it had a tattoo of the moon’s phases upon it. The second looked like it could be two stick figures but it was hard to distinguish. There was a moon or sun that radiated light upon the beings which was shown through angled lines marked white. A different hunk of shale, though missing part of the diagram due to a busted corner, displays the same figures but there is some kind of transfer taing place between the two even though they are far apart. It’s an interesting display once all the pieces are laid out in line but there is little more to decipher.

Ticks after this discovery, a commotion echoed from the direction where Lodai had ventured. The big warriors sounded like he was tussling but were they not alone? The space could be covered in less than a chime if Brocton ran. If he decided to creep it would be more like three. When he eventually arrived at a place to see what had caused the commotion, his eyes would find his guide wrestling with a rather nasty tangle of spider webs. The silk was thick and extremely sticky which seemed to make the situation worse for evry movement that Lodai made entwined him more to the fibers left behind by either a very large spider or an army of small ones.

It was during this ruckus that a figure approached the duo and dropped the head of Jinx onto the ground with a thud just a few feet behind Brocton. The head was clumsily removed as evidence from the cut but one needn’t stray to find answers. The dark leather boots that had brought the animal’s mind into the realm of view had not fled the scene. He was standing ten feet from the men. Medium length dark hair was spiked and led to sideburns which framed a pale face that housed a sharp nose, sunken eyes of greyish blue and thin lips. The man’s cheek bones were nearly as pointed as his neatly groomed goatee but nothin spoke as much as his chilling smile. Dressed in fine black clothes, the villain sported a sword of some kind and held a gaze of fascination upon the young man before him. His left hand bore red veins which indicated his divine allegiance but his purpose for the dramatic entrance had yet to be revealed. For now, he simply watched with his hand upon his hilt.

Lodai stopped thrashing long enough to discover their plight but he was trenched hard by the bug floss. Just as he was about to free himself, the webs fell away and the black eyes returned. The passenger seemed content to simply watch the situation unfold but it did not stop him from lifting the big man’s falx and standing guard.

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

[Brocton Firestone]

OOC :

Perfect song for the mood. XD

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Em7vc8NWUNY

Brocton was annoyed at Lodai's content and quiet manner, though, Brocton was sent here to do something, and he figured that he needed to help anyways. After a few scratches and scraps from clearing debris of rubble and stone, he managed to find some interesting pieces, aged and marked, detailed even. Detailing certain designs of sun and moon, and other things that created some sort of... story. Brocton lined them up and viewed them in the light. The hunter was astonished, but he wondered how well Lodai fared with his findings.

Though, everything subsided and fear trickled through Brocton as there was some commotion going about where Lodai stationed himself. The hunter ignored the three discovered pieces and hurried towards the Watchman. He seemed to be covered by a large web, Brocton rushed at the web and did his best to help.

As the Watchman seemed to nearly free himself, the web fell and diminished, and everything was quiet. For a few ticks. Then, a sudden thud came behind Brocton and echoed. It sounded as if something were dropped- the hunter turned around, he barely recognized the figure. The only thing he saw in his plane of view were his Strider's head.

A sudden realization hit him; it was Jinx, his Strider, the one that he was meant to bond to. Brocton's chest felt tight, his breathing was harsh and rash. He felt a sharp tinge of pain course through his system. Everything chunked together, and the man felt broken. No longer, would he be able to bond to this Strider, more accurately, no longer would he be able to bond to Jinx.

The hunter knelt down suddenly, the weight of his Strider's death took a heavy toll on him, the hunter gazed at the mare's head, it wasn't clean shaven, so Brocton figured that she put up a fight before the man won.

Brocton held back tears, he slowly raised his figure; standing, he slowly drew his longsword, it screeched as he stood, his body was shaky, his hands were even more so. Brocton observed the features to this man who supposedly entered, not as a friend, but as an enemy. There are just as much evil people, as there are good. Brocton took shaky breaths, he didn't want to move his attention for Lodai, right now, he didn't see this newcomer as a friend, merely an enemy. Anger boiled up inside, but he felt rooted in the spot, his pupils glanced repeatedly at his Strider's head. Blood dripped over the stones, pooling and covering the cracks of chisels and crevices of the aged stone. Was Brocton losing his mind? Or was this simply reality, which felt too surreal. This could be a dream, can it? He can't be dreaming this- can he?

If it were a dream, when Brocton stands to fight- would his death come with pain?

BROCTON FIRESTONE

[Prophet]

The figure watched as the Drykas broke apart from within at the sight of his horse’s head. Allister had nearly been thwarted by the stubborn horsemen once before and he had not forgotten. The sword drawn before him only increased the width of his twisted smile. A gleaming reflection of the moonlight bounced a sliver of silver light over the ground. The grey eyes looked first to the large man then back to the smaller one before finally resting upon Brocton’s weapon. “Are you sure you wish to walk down that road, boy?” The phrase spoken in Common was soft and ominous but not nearly as threatening as the quickness that the man drew his own longsword. With a simple twist of his wrist and a minor extension of his arm, Allister’s sword whistled as it spun through the air.

Lodai was moving slowly in a way to flank the man but he had not drawn his falx yet. Two steps into the arc, the body of the watchman shook and trembled then went still. The deep voice of the stranger returned and addressed the villain. “Why have you defiled the temple of my lord? Speak or suffer a fool’s reward.”

The messy black hair of Allister shifted when the man heard the question for the swordsman tossed his head back in a brief chuckle. He took two steps forward towards Brocton, the tip of his sword pointed at the ground but his arm held tension just the same. He turned his head to look at the big man and realized that the situation was deeper than appearances allowed one to see. “I was merely watering the grass since it seems the groundskeeper hasn’t been very attentive as of late.”

Allister extended his arm and thus his sword straight out for Brocton’s heart. The direct jab was rapid and precise. “Of course, you could just give me the pestle and I could leave. Eh, spirit?” Allister was familiar with the lore of Itone. He had done his research well. His only question was had these patsies found what he was searching for or did they need coercing.

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

[Brocton Firestone]

The sly smile that the man increased, only antagonized Brocton. The hunter wasn't prepared for a man coming in and barging with his Strider's head and just miraculously dropping it before him and the Watchman. Brocton's hands shook, and the hunter was worried, and slightly timid, but he kept an angry look towards the man who appears as his enemy. He must have a thorough explanation to why he brings Jinx's head. What was this man's intentions, the hunter must know. This stranger, observed the two, but Brocton kept his guard up, he wasn't too good with his longsword, but he hoped to get through with his bluff. If anything, he was better with his shortbow that was strapped around his shoulder, his quiver full of arrows were calling out to him, but he merely relied on close combat at this point if ever a fight were to go down.

“Are you sure you wish to walk down that road, boy?” The stranger asked, Brocton glanced with his pupil, looking at the separated head of Jinx on the floor, plasma colored blood flowing slowly onto the illuminated floor ignited by the moon above. “Why have you defiled the temple of my lord? Speak or suffer a fool’s reward.” His sword was close to Brocton, and Brocton's hands continued to shake. He noticed that Lodai trembled, as the stranger seemed to have done something to him. It was odd, truly. Brocton wondered what level of skill this man bore. He didn't want to risk his life for such a stupid question, one that he barely understands. His Common isn't all that good... he doesn't know what to say. He looked at Lodai with concern. Concern, for the fact that he obviously was worried if whenever he would say anything he would pay for it. He didn't want to end up like Jinx; but at the same time, being dead was better sounding, than living with the death of his Strider. It pained Brocton to even think about it.

The stranger, continued to observe the two Drykas. Brocton kept his eyes on the man's longsword, his arm was tensed, and he noticed the muscles were tight and dangerous. The Stranger, took two steps towards Brocton, the hunter took two big steps back, almost against the wall. He didn't like the looks of this. “I was merely watering the grass since it seems the groundskeeper hasn’t been very attentive as of late.” Brocton arched a brow, and was confused, now he was going to make small talk. This man comes in with his Strider's head, and attempts to make small talk.

"What games. You play." He paused, arms tensed, and hands slowly becoming sore. His common wasn't as good. Though, he was merely angry at this man. "You bring Strider's head." He said in awe. "You wish to make enemy of me?" He taunted. Snorting at the man, he stood his ground.

“Of course, you could just give me the pestle and I could leave. Eh, spirit?” How could a pestle be important to any means. How would a pestle make anything better. The hunter growled under his breath, but he looked uncertain at Lodai. Lodai is wise, and so Brocton figured that it's best that he should probably find a way out of this mess.

All in all, Brocton was confused, and he didn't want to ruin the lives of two Drykas. Especially with his hot headed attitude.

BROCTON FIRESTONE