| Time passes (Narrative) |
[Sep 25th, 4:13pm] |
She wasn't sure that things could be helped now. Not with three changes under her belt. But she had to try. She had to try to fix this. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life having to deal with this. Being this thing. Thankfully, she had Io to help. To encourage.
There weren't many books to read on the subject. Nothing that helped, certainly. Just a lot of lore, a lot of foolishness. The people that she talked to had pretty much the same ideas, but at least a lot of their experiences were more realistic, less fantasy.
But nobody could tell her any stories about werewolves becoming normal again.
She kept the amount of doubt that put into her mind to herself. Zarthana felt like if she talked to anybody about that part, if she actually voiced it, then it would take away any real possibility there might be of help in the future. It was probably just a silly superstition. But she held to it anyway.
Her adventure had been long so far. Long and extremely filled with interesting and strange things. She'd thought she'd seen everything that could possibly be odd out there in the world, and it had never previously occurred to her that she might be just a little bit sheltered. Certainly she'd never seen an Oni before, and she'd seen one of those on this trip. And she'd never thought about what other landscapes might look like. Images, sketches, in books did none of it justice. It was all so much more beautiful in person. It made her realize that all her previous traveling had been done in such a way that she'd paid very little attention to the world around her.
Her journal was battered, torn in places, dirty. It showed the signs of use and travel and experience like it had never done before. She was a little bit proud of it. She was gaining things in life that she'd never thought she'd ever have.
Maybe in that way this curse was more of a blessing. Look at all it had given to her.
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| here there be humans (history log, Hizu) |
[Sep 18th, 11:37am] |
He'd gotten quite used to the company of dwarves that these tall, skinnier races have taken him by shock and, to be so blunt about it, frightened him. Out in the lighter forests, picking herbs as he usually would, the bandits came out of nowhere and demanded for his goods and possessions, threatening him with knives and various other materials that completely slipped his mind as he stared at them with a deep black gaze. When they made for him, he did attempt to force them away and smacked one of them with the head of his walking staff but he soon found that it was a bad move and had only angered these filthy humans.
Which was how Csairdon Efidi found himself on the ground, without his walking staff (his only defense), and crawling backwards and further away from the dagger that was looming over him. If he could look even paler, he would have and if his abyss-like eyes could grow any bigger they would have. The humans were so much faster than he was and so much taller! With longer limbs and stockier built, they blocked away all his chances for escape and taunted him, calling him various names, some of which he hadn't been able to comprehend. They laughed at him, too.
And then the leader might have said something like, "Let's put an end to this, it's getting boring." he lifted his dagger.
That was when the frightened sidhe would shut his eyes tight, clench his fists hard and when the leaves would start to rustle from their roots...
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| Word of advice (Narrative/Open to Ida) |
[Sep 14th, 12:38am] |
One month ago
By drowsily opening her eyes, Zenith Danaeross did confirm to herself that she was finally able to fall asleep amidst shuddering and being waken up occasionally by howling sounds she could only dare hope was the wind.
Wanting to confirm how much time she was able to kill in that state, she wrapped the fur hide around herself and found the Corosan healer-savior of the wicked, Ida Gattersbell, from the opposite side of the tent. Oh yes, that was the day they were supposed to head to Tregnecot. Either that or Isi Ralu, along with the group the huldrenes managed to ensnare in searching for their lost comrades. Even if Zenith had drunk a whole barrel of beer, she would be sure to see through the trap not so cleverly and very obviously placed by the cow people. Those who would even take one step in those forsaken lands would only find death waiting with a chilly smile. While Zenith did put herself at the feet of death more often than not, she did not want to fall on it a frozen corpse petrified with a ghastly face for eternity, in a land where evil magic was astray. Zenith was simply convinced the group journeying to Isi Ralu was going to join the Paladins in their cold dark grave. Maybe that was the point.
"The answer lies in the choice, not in the path."
Zenith glared accusingly at Ida's sleeping form and realized the voice was from a man...and there was not any in that tent.
Snatching the twin bladed glaive next to her mat, her hands quickly pulled the tent flap open, ready to slice the intruder to half.
Only there were twenty three of them, standing like monuments on the vast field. Their backpacks were heavy and full for the long and arduous trip ahead. While Zenith shivered underneath the fur hide, the travelers did not flinch even if their branded arms were uncovered. Even if a blizzard should come to sweep them away, they would be undettered.
One of them spoke, his face was a flash of familiarity. A ghost of the past, and a visage of better, happier times.
"You hold your weapon like a broom."
A strong gust of wind made Zenith squint and step back, taking the travelers with it. After the air settled, the land became barren and empty again, save from the sprouted tents.
There Zenith felt a rage rising from her stomach, she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Next time you FEEL like giving a stupid advice, y'make sure you get your NUMBERS STRAIGHT!"
Then she angrily pulled the flap close, letting her weapon clatter on the ground as she grumpily sat on the mat.
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