Private Role-Play Earth Breather - In the Dark of the Forge

Discussion in 'Role-Playing' started by Ihren, Mar 17, 2016.

  1. Ihren

    Ihren New Member

    Joined:
    Mar 10, 2016
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    The warmth of the floor awakens you with sudden heat. Fluttering your eyes, the dark visage refuses to change. Complete darkness.
    A silky hissing slinks in and out of hearing in the distance. Your ears ring as they strain to follow the sound. The coarse grain of rough stone presses against your back and through the weight of your body you feel a determined, heaving vibration.

    Blindly, you check yourself. The air is thick and wet between your fingers as you check your extremities. Though covered in crumbling grit through and through, you are physically intact. You feel familiar fabric and assume your clothing is your own. All tools and weapons are nowhere to be found although their locations are rife with fine, soft sand.

    While your hands were busily fidgeting, your mind was working through the ringing. Your shuffling and scraping echoed only slightly: wherever you are, the area is decently sized and enclosed in hard stone. The hissing skulks slowly from left to right ahead of you.

    Uneasiness grips your body as your eyes strain into the spectral abyss again. Shimmers shine in your vision with the futile effort and the hissing slowly circles clockwise around you.

    You don't remember how you arrived here. You remember the last night and nothing out of the ordinary comes to mind. There were no strange figures, no crow on the fence or distasteful delicacies eaten. You expected no visitors and planned no visit.

    The hissing voice of the visitor stops before you at an uncomfortablyshortdistance. Foggy breath rolls across your face with the scent of wet clay, "I ssee you are sseeing... Welcome, Air-Breather."
     
  2. Nevermore

    Nevermore Stately

    Joined:
    Jun 4, 2005
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    It was dark and cold. Wait, it was actually warm. Dragus stirred with a groan. His body felt heavy and his back ached from laying on a rough surface. Where was he? His eyes flickered open, although he only knew that because he felt it. There was no light in the area to tell him his eyes were open. He practically smacked himself in the face just trying to see his own hand. That answered one question. He was inside, probably underground. The way things echoed around him made it sound like he was encased in stone. The lack of light meant no windows.

    His eyes couldn't adjust even after he sat up and tried to get his bearings. The stone beneath him was surprisingly warm, which didn't make sense. Maybe he wasn't underground. He felt around him more and discovered soft sand everywhere, while the knife he kept on his belt was gone. The air was moist and warm around him, clinging to his flesh like his sweat drenched clothes. It didn't help that he was still wearing his heavy, leather apron. His forge! He groaned. Hopefully the fire went out on its own and didn't burn down his home and livelihood. The last thing he remembered was working on a new sword for Rosa, one of his best customers. She was a beautiful, strong knight with a certain fierceness about her. What he wouldn't give to be able to tell her how he felt about her. He would owe Rosa an apology because she was supposed to pick up the sword today, if it had been that long.

    The blacksmith had no clue how long he had been in this room. He had spent so much time thinking, Dragus was just now aware of the sound. Something was hissing and circling him. He hated snakes. His eyes tried to force themselves to focus. A soft curse escaped him as he tried to find whatever it was that was about to attack him. As it swept up to him he scooted backwards slightly, but couldn't escape the moist breath on his face. It reminded him of the clay he used to harden the edge of curved blades in his forge.

    Air-breather? Whoever, whatever it was, it spoke with a snake-like hiss and called him an air-breather. What was going on here? "W-who?" He stuttered quietly, his voice echoing slightly. "What did you call me? Air-breather? What does that mean? Where the hell are we? Wait," he stopped himself. "Is this about something I did more than five years ago?"
     
  3. Ihren

    Ihren New Member

    Joined:
    Mar 10, 2016
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    "Air-Breather? I ssee your breath.. You breathe the air."
    The air was now thick with judgement and moisture.
    "Were you dropped very far? I ssee your face wass ssplit. Perhapss you have forgotten your own breath."

    The voice paused and measured the man in the sand. He might do. What else was there to consider?

    "We can fixx your breath, but that will not help any of uss."
    The creature moved across the space to where it originally came.
    "You are in the bowelss of your creator. The forge of exxisstencce. The ssame forge that wrought hell. For now, at leasst. Which iss where we might sserve each other."

    Some distance away, the sound of gravel mixed with that of falling hail. From the same came the voice again.

    "Many more than five yearss ago, we were given a purposse. Thiss purposse we fulfilled. Now, thiss purposse iss to be taken from uss all. I sspare uss the sstory for now. I do not know if you will remember or ssurvive and you were not built to conssider thesse thingss."

    The bulking beast badgered your feet like a boulder might soft soil.
    "You were looking for ssomething. You will tell me if you sstill sseek it. You are unlikely to sseek what I cannot find, and we sshhould sstart ssoon."

    The unseen hail fades like the last kernels of popcorn in the fire.
    "Come. It iss ready."
     
  4. Nevermore

    Nevermore Stately

    Joined:
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    4,255
    Dragus listened to the creature carefully. Despite the dark, it could see his scar. He had asked about five years in the past and the creature picked up on his amnesia immediately. It spoke in riddles and said a lot, and nothing at all. Several times, Dragus wanted to respond, but his captor continued like anything he might say in response was irrelevant. The blacksmith was too confused to concern himself with being entirely accurate. He heard what sounded like hail in the room, but that confused him as well.

    The creature spoke again, claiming the blacksmith was searching for something. He almost scoffed at this. Dragus had been searching for numerous things for the last five years. Answers were difficult to come by. Whoever this was, they needed better information. It knew something, but it definitely didn't know everything, or even a fraction of it. Even so, the blacksmith felt compelled to follow whatever it was. He didn't care much for fate or the concept, but there was something to this creature that demanded his attention. He just hoped it wasn't something from his past, something he couldn't remember. He didn't feel like answering to mistakes he couldn't remember making.

    "What's ready?" He half growled as he picked himself up and dusted the sand from his leather apron. "You've told me nothin'. How the hell did I even get here? It doesn't feel like I'm in jail, so I'm goin' to assume you ain't law." Dragus was thin, compared to other blacksmiths. He was well muscled, and his thick shoulders were the heaviest part of him, but the rest of him was hardly intimidating. His frame was light and the only way to tell he had any muscle at all was to see him without clothes. Even so, he stood tall, and relatively proud, even if his soul was shaking. He only took solace in the fact that he was still alive. If this creature wanted him dead, it could've killed him at any point.

    "A little light wouldn't kill anyone, would it?"