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Myth Arisen

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Tue Aug 04, 2020 11:38 am
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ScarlettFire says...


The Plot

A long, long time ago, five immortals were betwitched into a deep, dreamless sleep and sealed into an ancient tomb by a dangerous foe. Known only as the Battle Mage, the Career Soldier, the Pirate King, the Elf Traitor and the Forgotten Prince, they were lost to time and myth, turned into folk lore and stories whispered around campfires and hearths.

Until a new immortal bloomed amongst the darkness of their enchanted spell and roused them. The New One was young and lost and confused, and the Five could not resist the Call.

There's just one small problem.

How are you supposed to help someone when you're sealed into a tomb with four other immortals you may or may not know very well? Who might be friends, traitors, enemies or complete mysteries?

Welcome to Myth Arisen; don't open, there's immortals inside.


Character Sheet:

Code: Select all
[b]Name:[/b] (first and last, if possible)
[b]Age:[/b] (looks X age; actually X age)
[b]Gender:[/b] (male/female/other)

[b]Race:[/b] (human, elf, others, etc)

[b]Role:[/b] (mage, soldier, etc)

[b]Appearance:[/b] (a brief appearance will work; you can include a picture)

[b][i] - Strengths:[/i][/b]
[b][i] - Weaknesses:[/i][/b]

[b]Magic:[/b] If applicable

[b]History:[/b] (brief history will work)

[b]Up For Love:[/b] (y/n, orientation?)

[b]Other:[/b] (anything that doesn't fit above, such as personal missions/goals, any secrets you might be keeping, etc.)

Characters Slots:
The Battle Mage - @ScarlettFire
The Career Soldier - @NPC
The Pirate King - @LZPianoGirl
The Elf Traitor - @soundofmind
The Forgotten Prince - @winterwolf0100
The Forgotten Princess - @HarryHardy
The New One - @IcyFlame

More Slots Available By Request!

Myth Arisen is a part of The Universe, alternatively known as YWU, a collaborative writing universe. Click the link above to check it out!
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Thu Jan 07, 2021 1:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
"With friends like you, who needs a medical license?" - Paimon, Aether's Heart

“It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.” - Grace Hopper.

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212 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 17956
Reviews: 212
Fri Aug 07, 2020 8:56 am
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ScarlettFire says...

Valerin vys Arden
Inside the Sealed Tomb

For such a long time, there was nothing but blackness--deep and dark and bottomless...but then, after so long, actually seeing something was like seeing a sunrise again for the first time. Like he had suddenly looked up and had seen the stars or the moon. Gods, he'd missed being able to see something, anything... but... why was it a deer down the sight of an arrow? If he could frown, he would. Time and space shifted and then the arrow was piercing the deer's throat and the blood was bright red against the green and brown and orange beneath it. Another flash, another flicker of darkness and time without meaning and then...a man? A very...short-feeling man... With very dark red hair and terrible sideburns... that definitely did not match his hair...and very pretty, very dark eyes. It was kinda...hard to tell exactly what colour they were but, man, did he like those eyes. But....wait...what...

What. The. Hell.


Why was he dreaming about some random man-not-quite-woman... Why NOW? Of all times? What. Where in the everloving name of the Mother even was he right now?

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Waaaaait.

If he was having flashes, vision, imagery of another person... Gods damn it! There was a new one. The image of the man with the red hair and terrible sideburns seared itself into his mind and then there was a....shadow.... The beating of giant wings.... And then...

More darkness. But...not the same. Val blinked, lips parting on a groan as he rolled and fell off whatever very hard surface he had been laying on and landed hard on what felt like sand and stone. He groaned again and fumbled around as the darkness became less complete and he was slowly able to make out shapes and shadows. By the mother, he had escaped...whatever hell he'd been in.

"H...hell...." He groaned and rolled onto his side. Dear Mother, he ached. Everywhere. What the hell? What even? Val manged to get himself sitting up a little bit and moaned, leaning heavily back against the apparently stone wall--altar, maybe?--and just....sitting there for a moment, taking it all in. "F....ugh.... What...the..."

A soft noise off to his right had him pushing up onto his feet with the help of the stone altar-type thing and through the gloom, he spotted several still, almost motionless bodies. One of which was moving. It took him a moment to recognise the person across from him, but as soon as he saw it was Aumrauth, he saw red. Val shoved off the altar and lunged for him.



Aumrauth was sitting atop his altar with a gleeful smile, and he started laughing as Val made a few clumsy steps across the central space for him. He suddenly fell hard. The sensation of pins and needles was almost painful and Val moaned pitifully, getting a face full of sand. It was a few minutes before he could roll over and the entire time, all he could hear was Ruthie's manic laughter.

"Shut up!" he growled, shifting up onto one elbow. "I swear to all gods, Ruthie, if you've drugged me again and trapped us in a room together--"

Ruthie kept giggling like a child. "By the gods, sweetheart, I've only said one word! Well, until now. Now I've said quite a few. Still, no need to be so rude. It's good to see you, too."

Val grumbled and shifted to sit cross-legged on the sandy floor, rubbing at one of his thighs. "Can't say the same for you, Ruthie, because it is decidedly not a pleasure to see you!"

"Oh, poo, you're always such a sad sack, Val." Ruthie leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands as he looked down at Val on the floor. "And ah-" He pointed to his cheek. "You've got a little sand. Right there."

He sent him a glare and scrubbed at his cheeks, which only succeeded in getting more sand on his face. "Seriously, Aumrauth," he said and gave up on clearing sand off his face with a sigh. "What kind of mess did you get us into this time?"

Aumrauth snorted and sat up straight again, tossing his hands in the air towards Val with a roll of his eyes. "Oh, please. I'm flattered that you think this was all me, but I swear I didn't do it this time! Promise!"

Val's eyes narrowed. "You better not have, Ruthie. Or I will try very hard to actually kill you this time."

The elf blew out a breath through his teeth and gave Val a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, sure, sure," he said. "Chop me into pieces and lock each one in a vault like this one so I'm stuck as a broken puzzle for eternity. I know the drill. It's a cute idea, but so overdone. I'd much rather you just make me suffer forever."

He just stared at him with narrowed eyes then turned away to study the tomb. "Hmm." Val frowned and stiffly got to his feet, hobbling towards the wall of the vault inspect it, then back over towards the altars to inspect those. He tilted his head, fingers tracing very familiar patterns in the stone, although worn by time and age. "You think this is a vault?"

By this time, Aumrauths giggling had died down, and he was simply watching Val, sitting atop his altar while kicking his legs off this side. He shrugged.

"First guess. Looks like we're locked in. Then again, might not be a vault. Seems more like a cave. Or like, a burial - ah! Maybe a tomb?" He looked over at the other sleeping bodies. "They look dead to you?"

"Hmph, probably." Val snorted and rolled his eyes at Ruthie's mutterings. "It's a crypt."

"Alright, Mr.Thesaurus, it's a crypt. Hooray. Except we're not dead. So who do we know would want both of us locked down here? They'd have to have caught us unawares..."

Val frowned and moved to lean heavily against his altar-thing, which turned out to be a stone coffin of some long-dead king or queen. He didn't bother to see who, because he knew exactly where they were... He was related to pretty much almost everyone in the damn crypt. Because it was the twice-damned Royal Crypts beneath Melnar.

"Ruthie," he said slowly, tracing fingers over the runes and ancient engravings of the coffin he was leaning against. "I know where we are..."

"Where the hell are we then?"

Val sighed and turned to look at Ruthie, not noticing that the others had woken up and were watching their exchange with interest. "We're in the Royal Crypts beneath Melnar, Ruthie."

Ruthie stared at him intently for a moment before blurting: "Oh for goddess's sakes, did you drag me into some stupid family drama again?"

"What?" He stared right back. "No!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one not related to any of these people," he said with a wave of his hand, gesturing to the very much awake trio of people watching.

Val turned to look and then went very still. "Oh... Hello, cousin."

"Hi," said Triana, taking a moment to realize who it was. Her mouth opened in what appeared to be shock. He smiled briefly and then turned away to hide it, glaring at Ruthie again.

"Now. Ruthie, sweetheart, be a dear, would you?" He grinned almost viciously. "And get your ass over here."

Aumrauth's eyes lit up and he bounced to his feet, rushing over to Val's side. "How would you like my ass delivered?"

Val groaned and shook his head then reached out and grabbed a handful of pretty long, white hair and yanked. Hard. "Do you have any ideas on how to get out of here, Ruthie?"

"Hey, hey, careful," Aumrauth whined, though Val knew well enough that he wasn't hurt. "Tender scalp! Someone tried to scalp me once. Didn't work, of cour--"

"Shut up!" He gave him a bit of a shake and then shoved him away. "Ideas. Give."

"Alright, alright, geez," Aumrauth relented, sitting back up and scooting a little closer. "Well, there's a few spells I've been dying to use--"


"I haven't even told you which ones yet!"

Val snorted. "I know you, Aumrauth. It's something dangerous as hell. No."

Aumrauth shot Val a pitiful glare and pouted. "I don't know why you asked for my help, then."

"Neither do I." He sighed and pushed off the altar-coffin and turned in a circle, squinting in the dimness to try and study the engravings on the tomb walls. "Hm, there entrance is...around here somewhere?" Val muttered, almost to himself. "If only I had...a little more light..."

There was a sudden flare of light and Val glanced towards one of the women, nodding in appreciation.

"Thank you."

"Oh, that's cute," Aumrauth quipped.

The woman approached slowly, hand raised with a little flame dancing above it. Val watched the magic for a moment then grinned and turned to try and find the entrance. And maybe decipher the ancient text all over it. He found the entrance fairly quickly, but it was firmly closed, and approached it to run his hands over the spellwork engraved on the door.

"So, what's it say?"

Val shushed whoever had spoken and tried to focus, only to realise that Aumrauth was right there, reading over his shoulder. And he started reading out loud before Val could intervene.

"It says we need blood!" Aumrauth practically cheered, manic laughter creeping back into the elf's voice. He jabbed Val in the arm with his elbow. "Royal blood to open the royal crypt. Oh, and it also says Val has a stick up his--"


The elf looked over at Val with a grin. "Hey, you're royal, right? And princess Tiara over there, too."

"Trianátofyll Babalabashacekep," the woman with the fire magic said, but neither seemed to take notice of her.

"Ruthie, can you not?" Val scowled at him, pointing right at Ruthie's face.

Aumrauth ignored him, and looked up at the woman with the flame in her hand. "Who are you again?"

"Bati," she said, not elaborating.

The elf nodded and shrugged. "Ah. That's right." He looked back at Val. "She tried to kill me once. You guys should form a club."

Val snorted and turned back to the door. "No, thank you."

"Is no one going to ask who I am?" said the only other person in the room who had yet to be named, a human woman with a flower tattoo on her arm.

"Frankly," he muttered, not taking his eyes off the runes. "I don't care." Val traced over one phrase that kept repeating over and over, frowning. "Besides, I think everyone here has tried to kill you at least once, Aumrauth."

"Sometimes more than once."

The woman with the tattoo spoke up again. "Well the name is Morana, you insane asshole. And I'd like to know who brought me here and how to get out before I end up skewering one of you with my sword."

"Enough," Val snapped, turning to face the group. "And Ruth was right. We need royal blood, but not just any blood... It has to be from the royal family that this crypt belongs to..." He sighed and gave Triana a meaningful look. "And out of all us..."

"...that would be me," she finished for him.


"Okay, but how much blood to we need?"

Val turned to stare at Aumrauth. "No. Whatever it is you're planning, Ruthie, just no."

"Do we need to do a sacrifice? A ritual? Where does the blood need to go? We should try a few places just to be sure."

"Ruthie--" He cut himself off with a groan and ran a hand over his face. It was like talking to the stone walls of the tomb. Once the elf was off on a tanget, nothing he did or say could stop him. Val was seriously reconsidering asking the elf for help...

"Alright. You want a boring idea? Princess pricks her finger and writes a simple opening sigil on wherever we figure the door is with her blood. How's that, sweetheart? Simple. Low risk. I can walk her through it if she doesn't know the sigil."

Val sent Ruth a glare, gaze narrowed. "Really, Ruthie? No. We're not doing that."

Aumrauth stood up and sighed, his long purple robes flicking up sand behind him. "I don't see anyone else coming up with ideas," he said, drifting back over to the stone tablet he'd woken up on. "And if we can't figure something out soon, it looks like we'll be stuck here a long while. And while I for one, would love to keep all of you company, I don't want to hear the inevitable bickering between all of you."

"Oh for goddess' sake, I'm already sick of hearing you talk! You don't think we all heard you and horns here bickering? Honestly."

"Hey! I have a name," Val hissed, pointing at the human woman. "Use it!"

"Oh yeah?" Morana spat back. "You weren't interested in mine a minute ago. Why should I care about yours?"

"You should definitely care, Pirate Queen," he growled, "because I'm the first of the immortals and my name is Valerin vys Arden." He half-turned back to the door. "Use it."

Morana squinted her eyes at him and he caught her lip curling up in disgust from the corner of his eye. There was a tense silence that hung in the room for a few precious seconds before a few slow claps filled it.

"Bravo, dearest. How long did you practice that one in front of the mirror for?"

"Shut up, elf. I didn't ask for your input."

"You know what, you may be the first," the Pirate Queen hissed, completely ignoring the way Aumrauth and Val were arguing, "but that doesn't make you more important than anyone else here, battle mage."

"I didn't ask for your input either, Hermina."

He could hear the unsheathing of her sword and turned to face her, slowly raising his hand a little, wary now.

"Oh, please, Morana, we're all a little fussed about all of this but let's not pull out the sharp objects unless it's for a good old fashioned bloodletting," Aumrauth teased, laying back down on his bed of stone with one leg propped up and his hands behind his head.

"You will treat me with respect," Hermina demanded, leveling her gaze with Val.

"Respect?" he asked, going very, very still. "What do you know of respect?" Val's gaze narrowed. "If anything, you should be respecting your elders, Hermina."

"I think we've gone just a tad off topic, haven't we?" asked Triana cautiously.

"I think we're entirely on topic, cousin," he said casually, not taking his eyes off of Hermina. He didn't trust her not to attack him.

"Agreed," Hermina echoed tensely.

"Escaping! We were thinking about escaping," Aumrauth singsonged, still on his back, tossing a rock up at the ceiling. It clattered down onto the floor.

"And you!" Val turned to point his other hand at Ruth. "You're not helping at all!"

"Oh, please, Val. Now you're just pointing fingers."


"Don't blame me for your anger problems, sweetheart."

"I do not," Val hissed, moving to stride towards Ruth, "have anger problems, elf."

Aumrauth looked over at Val with slightly raised brows and a knowing grin, clearly holding back a laugh that expressed itself as a muffled wheeze. "Oh. Oh yeah. No anger problems at all. You are a picture of calm right now."

That brought him up short and he fumed silently for a moment, trying to calm down. Once he'd somewhat composed himself, he turned and headed back over to where Bati was still standing with their illumination.

"Screw this," Val grumbled and brought his hand back and up to his horns, sliding one palm over the sharp tip of one horn, slicing it open. He hissed and then slapped the injured palm against the 'door' of the tomb, hoping something would happen. The entire tomb shuddered briefly and then...


Abosultely nothing.

"With friends like you, who needs a medical license?" - Paimon, Aether's Heart

“It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.” - Grace Hopper.

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Fri Aug 07, 2020 9:00 am
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soundofmind says...

Aumrauth Themaris
Inside the Sealed Tomb

Val's frustrated scream echoed off the tomb walls. The acoustics in the crypt really were like no other. Aumrauth was able to fully appreciate the weight of Val's dramatic hissy fit as the sound bounced off his ears more than once. He watched as Val hit the door in frustration with his newly injured hand and froze for a second, before a shudder ran down his arm.

Aumrauth laughed.

Oh, this was far, far better than the entertainment he got on a regular day.

Val muttered something else (probably foul) under his breath before stomping over to another spot in the tomb to stare at the wall again like some kind of toddler, but after his outburst everyone seemed content to give him a moment to breathe. They all seemed to realize, at that moment, that not only did they all have to share the same space, but it would be practically impossible for anyone to get a moment alone. Now, Aumrauth didn't mind this, and there was a very specific reason for it - that reason being, that he didn't care. He had spent so much of his life alone both willingly and against his will that any kind of company, even contemptuous, dramatic crybaby company was better than nothing. Having people around was entertaining, and at least it meant they could all go insane together.

There were, after all, trapped there. Aumrauth hadn't been joking when he said it didn't look like they'd be getting out any time soon. Sure, he joked about a lot of things, and he wasn't bothered by the prospect of spending more time with a bunch of angry immortals, but he knew the magic that sealed this place was stronger than a simple opening sigil.

Ha! And Val thought he could open it by slapping some blood on the door. He would try that, after not listening to any of Aumrauth's ideas, ever.

The elf took in a deep breath and flattened his legs against the stone table he laid on, taking another deep breath. He felt the river calling to him, flowing through him. Whispering of another, side-burned one. Great skies above, those sideburns were ugly.

Aumrauth's eyes shot open in distaste. That was the worst haircut he'd seen in a long time, and he had been alive for centuries.

"So, if I were to throw five immortals into a crypt, it would be for personal reasons," he began. "Vengeance, maybe. Or maybe it would serve some greater magical purpose, like I don't know, using them to complete some powerful spell I've yet to discover, but oh, holy shit! That would be brilliant if such a thing existed. If only there was a way to channel all of that power into--"

"How many times do we need to tell you to shut up?" the Pirate Queen of Getting Angry at Everyone interrupted.

Why did everyone keep interrupting him?

"I wasn't talking to you," he said dismissively. "Anyways, as I was saying--"

"Who the hell are you talking to besides us? We can all hear--"

"--There has to be a reason we're all here," he continued, talking despite the background noise. "Stabby stabby over here is pretty young, so she must be new, I'm thinking. I don't think she was thrown in here at the same time I was, 'cause the last thing I remember was being on a pleasant walk through a very dangerous forest - but none of the animals ever come near me, of course, because I look and smell like smoking hot death, and that can be very intimidating for terrifying fuzzballs in the dark - and I think I was looking for some ingredients for a potion, but the specifics seem to have escaped me. Oh! I was looking for a griffin egg. Their yolks make for a good breakfast and the lining of their shells can be very useful for things I don't need to outline at the moment. But I digress. Whoever brought us here is obviously more powerful than us, and probably older, because they knew about me and hothead. Well? Maybe not. I guess they could've discovered us later, but I have a hard time believing someone more powerful came along later, unless that person is literally death himself. That would interesting. Oh! Oh! Wait! I know!"

Aumrauth suddenly shot up from his lounging spot and clapped his hands together.

"What if it was Val's mom?"

That brought Val's head up and around. "My what now?"

"Your mom."

His gaze narrowed and he titled his head. "Last I heard, my mother was off fornicating with some great grandson or something. What do you mean by 'what if it was Val's mom,' Ruthie?"

Aumrauth took in a deep breath, holding his hands together like a prayer, because by the river he needed patience. Val was so slow.

"You really didn't listen to a word I said, did you, babe," Aumrauth sighed.


"I was theorizing about who brought us here. Your mom seems like a fun candidate. I, for one, would love to see her again, and who knows, maybe she tossed us in here, I don't know, for personal reasons. Granted, I've no idea how she knows the sea monster over there, but she gets around, so I wouldn't be surprised."

Valerin's gaze narrowed even further and he scoffed. "You think my mother, the fiend, would go anywhere near water bigger than a small pond?"

Aumrauth threw his head back and laughed, slapping his thigh. "Sweetheart. Babe. Dearest. Val. Your mother would cross any river if it meant having a little fun." As he rolled his head forward he added a wink for good measure.

He watched as Val picked up the nearest object--a decently-sized chunk of stone about the size of a fist--and threw it at him. "Shut up!"

Aumrauth yelped in childish glee and ducked behind the bed of stone. He looked back out after he heard the crash.

"You two are insufferable!" Morana shouted, joining in the throwing party. She picked up another stone and pelted it at him. Aumrauth had to duck again, narrowly missing that hit. "And how dare you call me a sea monster, you disgusting, slimy, no-good devilish bastard! You know you're the reason why people are afraid of mages, right? Your stupid-ass thought it would be a great idea to dip your hand in the River and play god and because you thought you were soooooo special! You're sick! You went crazy and gave every fearful soul in all of Runeheim rights to question even the most well-mannered mage and now they have anti-mage technology that puts them in chains and made life a living hell for a hell of a lot of people! But did you ever stop to think about how your actions would affect others? Of course not! All you think about is your godsdamned self, you filthy cretin!"

"ENOUGH!" Val roared, striding over to put himself between Aumrauth and the Pirate Queen. "That is enough, you two."

Aumrauth was still hiding behind his shelter of stone. "I didn't start that one, actually," he said quietly, peeking out at Morana. Her face looked red from all the yelling.

"No, it wasn't just him," Val added, turning to face Morana. "It was also me."

Aumrauth looked up at Val. For the love of the gods, that drama queen was always trying to steal his spotlight.

"I was referring to the current argument, not the age-old conflict between magic users and non-magic users," Aumrauth corrected.

Morana's glare was set on Val, though. Ugh. Of course it was.

"That conflict was always inevitable, Ruthie."

"I mean, yes, and I will gladly take credit for all of it, but so is death, and yet, we've cheated that inevitability."

Morana let out a long, long long-suffering sigh, as if it physically pained her to do so. Aumrauth hoped Morana would give herself a break, because with a sigh like that it sounded like she was trying to compete with Valerin for who was the most petty and dramatic in the room. Valerin was winning still, of course, but he didn't need any competition. That would only encourage him.

"You're both despicable," she muttered, turning around to face away from them.

At that point, Aumrauth remembered that the princess existed because she was staring, and her little guard was right beside her, watching as well. They weren't very fun, were they?

The elf scratched behind one of his ears, feeling his earring jiggle against his palm. He didn't really feel like addressing magic and mages and people's paranoia and suspicions. Though Aumrauth was loathe to admit it, Valerin was right that a conflict like that was inevitable. If it hadn't been Val, and it hadn't been himself, it would have been someone else.

But none of that had anything to do with getting out of the crypt. Morana had derailed them again. She was good at that.

He stood up slowly, brushing himself off and straightening up his robes and his layering necklaces. He fussed with them until they all somehow managed to hang there without overlapping. It wouldn't last long, but it was a small success.

He looked out at the others. Everyone was so sensitive. He figured he should address the elephant in the room.

"So... the human with the hideous sideburns. I'm not the only one who's seen them, right?"

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IcyFlame says...

Ozeala 'Oswald' Silver
Outside the sealed tomb

Ozeala wasn't quite able to pinpoint the exact time she had regained consciousness, but she knew the feeling was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It started as a hum around the depths of her brain but quickly got louder and louder, until the incessant buzzing was right behind her eyes and forcing her to peel them open.

She gazed around her blearily, blinking in the harsh light of the setting sun. Where was she? Something brushed the side of her face and she jumped in alarm, pressing a hand to her cheek sharply. When she felt the wonky sideburn she relaxed instantly; it was just Oswald. The sideburn had tilted slightly and had peeled off on one of the edges. She smoothed it back on to her face, and then as she smoothed her face noticed the one on the other side had fallen off completely... rats. Why did bad things always have to happen to her?

It seemed like she was destined to have bad luck for life. Oz had often wondered if this was what caused her mother to die when she was extremely young, and had then caused the illness and ultimately untimely death of her father. Bad luck just seemed to follow her around wherever she went and apparently it didn’t matter if she was Ozeala or Oswald when it struck.

Speaking of bad things... she looked around her properly for the first time since she had opened her eyes and noticed that something seemed off . It was sideways .

Oh, wait.

She was lying on her side.

At the bottom of a cliff. She tilted her head to look up at it in awe. It had to be at least 5000 feet tall. Had she fallen from it? Surely not? There was no way any normal person would survive a fall like that. She'd be badly injured at least. She gave her feet an experimental wiggle. That all seemed to be working.

Using her right hand, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and shook her bright red fringe out of her eyes. Studying her surroundings, she found that she was, in fact, not on a flat piece of ground as she had assumed, but rather on some very sharp rocks. How the hell had she got down here? And if she had fallen, how the hell had she survived?

She squeezed her eyes shut again; the incessant buzzing still ringing in her ears and behind her eyes while she fought to think clearly. The sky around her seemed to be getting darker, so she surmised she had probably been here a while. Try as she might though, she couldn’t remember what had happened that day, let alone the events leading up to her inevitable fall.

She lifted her left hand and gave a gasp of shock and she saw it was impaled on one of the larger rocks. Ozeala knew that you weren't supposed to remove things like arrows from wounds in case you bled out, but all logic seemed to fail her as she wrenched her hand from the stone. As she did so, she gave a sharp hiss that was not entirely her own, as an image of a tall creature with long horns shoved its way into her mind, bringing its hand down swiftly to its horn and marking it with a deep gash.

Ozeala blinked in pain and shook her head from side to side in a vain attempt to rid the strange images from her mind. Was she concussed? Was she dreaming? The latter explanation would certainly provide a reason as to why she wasn't injured when she'd clearly fallen from quite a height onto rocks that were anything but soft and squishy.

She examined the hand that she had just lifted from one of the aforementioned rocks. No damage. Ok, this was definitely a dream. Well, then, if she wasn't injured then she would have no trouble standing up, right?

Putting her hands down against the rocks to steady herself, she brought her knees to her chest and pushed off from the ground to a standing position.

Wait, were those people she could hear? She pulled her hat down over her head in panic, pressing her sideburns even more securely onto her face. Immediately, the buzzing in her head started again. The people she heard were getting clearer now, and she could have sworn she was hearing their voices swirling through the thick fog in her mind. It sounded like a couple, she decided, and they were definitely arguing.

"Sweetheart. Babe. Dearest. Val. Your mother would cross any river if it meant having a little fun."

Ozeala could almost make out a face shining through the swirling mist, but the more she tried to focus on it the more it seemed to be just out of reach.

"Shut up!"

She winced as a chunk of stone came hurling towards her through the fog and blinked rapidly, trying to see anything other than fog. The buzzing left again and she stood bewildered, wondering what on earth was happening to her. Her head was swimming, and she very clearly wasn't well.

She needed to get to some kind of healer, she decided quickly. But she had no idea where she was. She squinted her eyes as she tried to remember where she was before the untimely fall off the cliff.

But try as she might, the images escaped her. At one point, she thought she could feel the beating of solid wings around her as she struggled, but that made no sense at all. Her bow was with her (and was luckily relatively intact) so she must have been hunting, but she had never fallen when hunting before. She knew these lands like the back of her hand... there was no way she would ever put a foot wrong.

Or she used to know these lands like the back of her hand. In the dimming light everything looked strange and unfamiliar. Something was there though, niggling at the back of her mind. Maybe she didn't know where she was, but there was a distinct feeling in her mind that there was a specific way she was supposed to be going. Perhaps this was what people meant when they spoke of 'homing pigeons' and having a sense of home. She hadn't believed in it much before, but the pull was so strong that it couldn't be anything else.

Adjusting the bow on her back, she started to walk determinedly into the desert, towards the rapidly darkening clouds.

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winterwolf0100 says...

Taeviláissonn Ráidon Babalabashacekep
Outside the sealed tomb

Ráidon first felt it in Katiff, a small village he visited every couple of years to lie low a little while between missions. A little tingling on the back of his neck, and a strong feeling in his gut. He wondered briefly if it was some sort of magic meant to hurt him, but quickly dismissed the idea. The first few centuries after his sister had died jumping in front of arrows meant for him, Ráidon had thrown himself into teaching dark magic to students, showing them how to use the dark for good. This wasn't that though, even if it had been a few centuries since he had touched up on his magic. He had realized after a few centuries teaching dark magic wasn't something he was interested in anymore, and he stopped, going back to the small murder missions him and his sister had first done after being kicked out of their kingdom. A new dynasty had no need for the royal twins of the old one, especially considering both him and Triana had been trained for the throne. They had fled when they were thirteen, and he hadn't looked back since. That is, until she was killed. After that, his thoughts seemed to circle around his homeland all the time, until it got to the point where he knew he would go mad if he didn't attempt to do something productive. Hence the teaching, and eventually, this. Assassin for hire. Unfortunately though, there were almost always complications in missions, forcing him to lay low every once in a while. That was where Katiff came in.

It was minuscule, mainly consisting of a few farmer families, the only reason it could even be considered a village being the small chapel and the few storefronts in the center of the farms. It used to be bigger, but since it burned down a few centuries ago, most of the population left, meaning there was less money to rebuild the village center. Technically, it was called something else now-- Bale? Vale?-- but in Ráidon's mind, it would always be Katiff. Since it was the only village for miles around, farmers from more distant farms would gather there to trade in the small marketplace housed next to the chapel for some indistinct god, where they would go to pray and worship. Ráidon himself couldn't tell all the thousands of tiny gods apart, and wasn't even sure if he believed in them, but to each his own, he supposed.

He had just arranged with one of the farmers for him to sleep in their barn in exchange for a few coins when he felt it: a painful tug in his gut, yanking him forward. He stumbled into the farmer, and immediately pulled himself off of him to stumble past him towards his current horse.

"What about my payment?" The farmer shouted after him, the short stubby man hurrying to catch up with him.

"Change of plans," Ráidon said, untying the horse from the pole and pulling himself on. "I'm not staying here. I have to go." Ráidon grit his teeth as another surge of pain yanked him forward, and he had to fight off the urge to set the horse running, as fast as it could, in the direction of the pull.

"Ráidon please, my family needs that money this year," the farmer said, distressed. "Crops aren't growing like they should this year, and without all my children working in the fields, we can't afford the medicine for my wife."

Ráidon hesitated. Yes, he killed for a living, but he always did his research beforehand. Everyone he killed deserved to be dead. He wasn't cold-hearted, though, and this farmer had been the one he had stayed with several times whenever he needed a chance to lie low. He had a family of nine children, and his wife was susceptible to illnesses, forcing the farmer to choose between an older child watching the younger children or being out in the field. Ráidon had eaten dinner at this family's table, given a helping hand in the fields when he was trying to lay low, watched as the children seemed to travel through time, suddenly much older each time he returned every few years. He... trusted this man and his family. He cared about them. In the back of his mind, Ráidon knew this small family of humans was fragile, much more so than the Fey'ris Ráidon had grown up with, and they had significantly less time to live than him. It seemed unreasonable to hold back such a small amount of money when he had had centuries more than this family to collect it.

Ráidon sighed, not believing what he was about to do, and took a small bag of gold coins from the pack on the side of the horse. He threw the bag to the farmer, then gave a curt nod. "I'm sorry to not see your family this time. Please tell the children I said hello, and if you are ever in danger, don't hesitate to send a message."

The farmer opened the bag, his eyes widening at the amount of coins, and he began to protest, but Ráidon was already gone, riding the horse hard in the direction of the pulsating in his belly.

"Taev," a voice whispered in his ear, and he jumped, squeezing his eyes shut to alleviate some of the pressure from the massive headache billowing inside him. That name shouldn't exist anymore. There should be no whisperings of Taev on the tips of tongues. It shouldn't even be a myth at this point, it should've been long forgotten, its only traces riding on the soft gusts of wind at nighttime by his ear. Not when he was thousands of years old, and no one had called him Taev since he had been forced out of his kingdom at the age of thirteen. No one... except Triana. It shouldn't even breathe anymore. It had stopped breathing the day she had died, when he had strangled it to the ground once and for all.

"Taeviláisson Ráidon Babalabashacekep, you have been chosen," the voice whispered once more, and it sounded like fragments of several voices had been hastily forged together to produce one imperfect weapon, inept for battle but plenty sharp enough to drive needles through his brain. He groaned unconsciously, clutching his head, and urged the horse to speed faster, not recognizing where he was going, only that he had to go somewhere less painful than this.

By nightfall, Ráidon had reached the edge of the Grasslands, nearly imperceptible to time. The tug in his stomach and stab in his brain had reduced significantly, but only when he continuously moved towards wherever they were drawing him. He made camp at the edge of Rhya and pulled out bread and jerky from one of his bags. He gasped, pain blossoming in his head, as if the sword had in fact been a hoe, creating room for the voices to plant seeds within his brain. Flowers that sought out blood instead of water and housed thorns instead of leaves. He immediately packed up everything and started riding again, sighing in relief as the pain subsided to a dull ache behind his eyes.

That entire night was an endless cycle of him drifting off, the horse stopping, and the pain returning, sometimes as a flower spreading its petals within his skull, sometimes as a pull deep in his gut. By the morning, he was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty: but he had made it to the edge of the Great Western Desert. He wished he could stop to restock on supplies because there was no way his food supplies would be enough for three meals each day as he traveled to wherever he was being pulled, but as soon as he tried, he was jolted forward by the pain. He only stopped for enough time to trade the horse for several canteens, which he immediately filled with water, and a camel, knowing there was no way the horse could survive a journey through the desert. Even that was difficult, and he ended up giving way more money than he should have for the camel and canteens, unable to bargain with the man for more than a few seconds because of the spots in his eyes. He got on the camel, and was off once again.

Day in. Day out. Day in. Day out. Time was imperceptible, passing in the blink of an eye, hours melting into days under the hot desert sun.

By the time he reached what looked to be crumbled ruins, Ráidon was sleep-deprived, half-starved, and dehydrated. He nearly fell as he got off the camel, dragging his bags off of its back before collapsing onto the sand.

Ráidon tried to catch his breath, clutching his stomach and biting back a yelp from the pain. He glanced up to look at the surroundings. Besides the crumbled ruins, there was nothing except... He frowned. Was that a person... pretending to be a tree? He was too far away to see them clearly, but they had bright red hair that would've given them away even if there had been a tree to hide behind.

As he watched, the figure stood completely still. Or as completely still as one could be when they looked like they were trembling from head to toe. He paused, waiting to see if they would come nearer. When they didn't, he forced himself to his feet, nearly collapsing from the effort.

"Hello?" He called. "I can see you."

Instead of answering, like any normal person would, the figure took a few hurried steps backwards. But they didn't seem to be familiar with the ways of the desert, sinking back into a sand dune and slipping over. He winced.

Ráidon wasn't usually drawn to the idea of talking with strangers, much less being vulnerable, but he said, "I was drawn here. I'm in pain and I don't know why I'm here. Is that why you're here?"

"No," a muffled, but distinctly feminine, voice called back. "I'm going home."

Ráidon scowled. "Is your home a..." He glanced at the ruins, and suddenly, something in his mind clicked, and he realized he recognized the ruins, even though it'd been several centuries since he'd even thought of them. "Is your home the abandoned tomb of a long-forgotten Fey'ri kingdom? Because that's the only thing out here, and I'm pretty sure it's why we're both here."

There was a pause, and a shuffling sound as the stranger pulled themselves upwards. Curiosity had clearly won out of fear and he watched as the flaming red hair came closer to him, pausing every so often as if something might jump out to attack them both at any minute.

"An abandoned what?"

Ráidon turned back towards the ruins, wishing he was wrong. This place had never been a good omen. To be drawn here? What would that signify? "A tomb," he said quietly, walking towards the ruins. He ran his fingers over the old stones, feeling the tug in his gut strengthen at the contact. He hissed, and drew his hand away. The pulsing in his stomach intensified, and he put his hand back on the stones, feeling the pain subside.

The figure was almost right behind him now, but no other hand reached out to touch the tomb beside him. "I don't think that I live here."

Ráidon blinked, turning to look at the figure. To his surprise, instead of a woman, the figure was a man, with a young face and a beard and sideburns that, suspiciously, did not at all match the color of his hair. The man's eyes were a compelling green, and the long lashes added a mysterious beauty to his look. If he lost the beard and sideburns, Ráidon would have found him very attractive. Ráidon tried not to dwell on that.

"You thought you lived here?"

"Well, not exactly. I wasn't really sure where I was going but this just felt like I was going in the right direction," he eyed Ráidon warily and rubbed a slim hand across his head, as though trying to get rid of a fly that wasn't there. "Does that make any sense?"

"I..." Ráidon sighed. "Yeah, that does make sense. The other day, I just felt this...pain. The only way to get it to stop was to keep traveling in this direction. But now, touching these stones, it feels like this is where I was being called to."

"Oh." The man took a step backwards. "Um, that's not really what I meant at all actually."

Ráidon narrowed his eyes, studying the rocks in concentration. "I feel like I should know how to open this..." he murmured. Then, his eyes lit up when he spotted faint writing etched into the stone. It had been worn down, barely visible, but he could just make it out. It was written in an old Fey'ri language, one that had died out long ago. Nobody spoke it anymore, but some people still learned to read it, in case they happened to wander across, say, an old Fey'ri tomb. Ráidon read it outloud with an impending sense of dread:

"If body were cloud and blood were rain,
And your mist was of one royally deceased,
You could water our stones and ease all your pain:
The doors unveiled and immortals unleashed."

Ráidon felt on edge. This didn't sit right with him. None of this did.

The man beside him was staring at it, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "What is this, like a stash of secret treasure?"

"I doubt it," Ráidon said, his brow furrowed. "But this poem still doesn't make any sense."

"If body were cloud and blood were rain... mist... so, if your blood was one of royally deceased? Then it's not talking about someone who died in a royal way... it's saying a royal person who died." The man looked horrified. "So we're by some old dead king's tomb?" He backed away again. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all. What if it's cursed by an old dead king? "

Ráidon swallowed, reading the poem again, now more certain that it was referring to him. "I was born a prince..." Raidon said quietly. "And I died and came back. It's talking about me."

His companion gaped at him. "You did what?"

"Trust me, I have no idea why it happened either," Ráidon growled. "I wasn't in a good place after my sister died. There was nothing left for me in the world. I tried to..." Ráidon gave a choked laugh. "Obviously that didn't work out for me. I woke up the next day, completely fine, even though I had slit my own throat. And here I am," he said bitterly.

"So you're what, exactly? An immortal king?" The man took another step back; any more steps and he'd be back as far away as when Ráidon had first spotted him. "This is too weird. I'm going home."

Ráidon snorted. "I haven't been to my home country in... I don't know. A few millennia? My sister and I were chased out when we were thirteen. Besides, you can't leave. You'll be drawn back. We might as well try to open this thing."

The red-head coughed, and spoke again in a voice that was even softer and higher pitched than before. Ráidon could hardly believe the voice was coming from him. "I'm sorry you had to leave your country, but please, I haven't done anything wrong. Please just let me go." He paused. "If I promise to help you try and open this thing then will you let me go home?"

Ráidon gave him a "you can't be serious" look. "I'm not the one who drew you here, and if I wanted to kill you, I would've done it already. I can't control when you go because I can't control when I go. But I do have a feeling that opening this tomb-- letting loose whatever's inside--it may not be good, but it'll change things. For better or for worse."

His companion seemed to be considering things, and it was taking an awful lot of effort if the look on his face was anything to go by. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly, and his smooth brow had furrowed into deep lines. "Okay." He said finally. "Okay, I'll help you."

Ráidon studied the man for a second, before giving a small nod. "Good. Now back to the poem. We know it's talking about my blood. Water the stones... so, get my blood on the stones where the door is?"

The man came to reclaim his original spot beside him and placed his hands against the cool stone, moving them slowly. "Here," he said softly, after several long moments had passed. "The stone here feels different to the rest." Without warning, he gripped Ráidon's wrist and moved his hand to the same spot. "Do you feel anything?"

Ráidon jerked when the man touched him but regained his composure and felt for any difference. "Yeah, I feel it. It feels slightly pushed in compared to the other stones."

The other man smiled for the first time. "That's it. It's a common hidden door. The technique is used a lot in old hunting techniques. If I were to bet, that's where I'd tell you to put your blood."

"Okay," Ráidon said. He drew a small knife from his boot and calmly sliced open his palm. For some reason, the moment felt momentous, and he took a deep breath before he laid his palm flat against the hidden door, the blood from his hand trickling its way to the ground. He jolted, stars exploding behind his eyes as lightning shot through his body. He collapsed onto the ground, hearing the door slowly swing inward.

"By the way," he heard in the background. "I'm Oz. Who are you?"

"Ráidon," he gasped, sucking in a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the world felt as if it was spinning around him. He felt like his blood was on fire, burning its way through him.

"Taeviláissonn Ráidon Babalabashacekep," the voice whispered in his ear, "your sister awaits. We will leave you in peace." The pain suddenly retreated from his body, the flowers dug up by their roots, the rope tied to his gut cut off, the fire extinguished, causing a yelp to rip through Ráidon's mouth before he could stop it. He heard voices, and for a moment he thought the voice had been lying, that it hadn't truly gone away, when he glanced up. His mouth fell open. It was her: his sister, Triana, standing above him with a look of concern as if she hadn't died a millennia ago. Her long red hair hung down like she had always worn it, her hand over her mouth in shock at the sight of him. Ráidon briefly wondered how awful he looked, sweaty and dirty and tired. Would she recognize him? Then he wondered if he had died, and he was finally seeing her in the afterlife. If that were so... maybe there were such things as gods afterall.

"Ráidon, are you okay? " Oz exclaimed loudly. "Somebody help him!"

He swayed, the world spinning around him, his mind unable to fully comprehend his reality, thirsty and hungry and tired. He was really tired. His eyes rolled back into his head as the darkness overtook him. And just like that, he died.

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HarryHardy says...

Trianátofyll Babalabashacekep
Inside the Sealed Tomb

Triana didn't quite know what to make of things at the moment. The doorway to the crypt opened up, a loud hiss echoing around as the air outside rushed in. What came in next however was the reason that she currently didn't know whether she should be doing a happy dance or fainting. Her face settled on concern.

Her brother, Taev, the name itself felt foreign in her mind. She'd closed out the possibility of running into him again. It had been so long. But here he was, swaying about, looking like a dead man walking. He was covered in dirt and sweat, and looked half starved but she knew it was him.

She could feel it, a warm feeling in her stomach, as it had always been when he was near. For several years it had been an unbearable cold, a reminder that she'd lost the one person she had left in life, but that was no more.

As she stood there staring, he collapsed, eyes rolling into his head as he dropped like a sack of potatoes. And then several things happened all at once.

Triana barely managed to prevent a scream. No. Please No. You can't come back to me only to collapse like that. Its probably just hunger. Yaa that's right. Hunger. Bati immediately ran towards Taev, pushing the rest aside, the fire that had been lighting up the room, burning brighter as she ran towards the fallen prince. Triana managed to somehow avoid getting hit by Bati and watched as Bati proceeded to charge over there like a bull.

She took a shaky step towards her brother, her mind refusing to move beyond the fact that she'd just got her long lost brother back only for him to fall down, unconsciousness. She barely noticed as Bati flipped the prince over so that he was lying on his back. Bati made eye contact with all of them, a message very clear in her eyes 'Stay Away'.

A man standing there stepped aside quickly and walked off towards the back where she'd just being standing. Triana did a momentary double take. Sideburns. Wait a minute. He wasn't there before was he? And why does he seem familiar?

But before that thought could go any further, she remembered her brother and took another shaky step. Even as she tried to convince herself that she wasn't about to lose her brother a second time, her feet continued to take her towards his fallen form, her mind refusing to acknowledge Bati's warning stare.

Owing to the fact that Bati hadn't tried to roast her yet, Triana kept walking towards her brother. The out of nowhere came a battle cry.


Triana turned instinctively to see an elf turn to charge at her, cleary aiming right for the door.

He took a few steps before, suddenly faceplanting hard on the floor of the tomb. Triana reflexively cringed at the loud crunching sound. A laugh came from behind the fallen elf.

She turned away from it as she heard a argument break out, something along the lines of "Get up and make me." It all barely registered in her mind as she finally made it next to her brother. She stood there warily.

Behind her, she heard something that appeared to be a small scuffle break out. Someone, probably Ruthie, called Val out for swearing in front of kids. Then she heard a loud thud, like someone had fallen down. She glanced back again. Ruthie was on his bum, and the pirate was laughing. She almost wanted to yell at them to be quiet. How could they be so insensitive to what was going on? But that's not going to help Taev She turned back towards her brother.

Bati didn't make a move to shoo her away so she slowly knelt down next to him. She looked at his face. It looked peaceful, like he was simply sleeping. She could almost imagine it was the old days, when she woke up early and sometimes just spent a few minutes observing him. She studied the features she'd memorized so long ago, they seemed so similar to when she'd last seen him, but it had been centuries ago. And she'd searched for a glimpse of those same features for so long. But he was finally here now. She made to touch his forehead when Bati cleared her throat.

She looked to see something that she'd never expected to see. Underneath Bat's emotionless mask, there appeared to be a hint of shock. That could never be good. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Triana mumbled a "Yes?"

"He's dead, Princess."

A rush of emotion hit Triana like several sledgehammers. An unbearable chill erupted near her heart. "'t...."

Everything went black.


Triana stirred. Someone was calling here name. It was a familiar voice. Her brother. But that couldn't be true, he was long dead. Then the memories came flooding back and she opened her eyes. She was looking right into a pair of very familiar eyes, that were filled with an emotion she'd seen more times than she would have liked: worry.

"You're alive," she managed.

"Yes, it seems death does not like either of us very much," asked Raidon, a trace of a smile visible on his lips. She smiled, the kind of genuine smile she'd not had a reason to use for a very, very long time. She sat up quickly, engulfing her brother in a bear hug, sobbing with relief as a weight that had been on her head for centuries finally fell away.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," she whispered. She pinched her hand to see if it wasn't one of the many dreams that she'd had. It hurt just like it should. He really was there. She gave him a tight squeeze just to be extra sure he wasn't going to vanish before she pulled away.

"Have long have you been trapped in here?" he asked.


"You two done over there?" came an annoyed sounding voice from behind them, "Some of us adults have more important things to do."
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soundofmind says...

Aumrauth Themaris
Outside the Sealed Tomb

Aumrauth stood outside the doorway of the tomb, leaning on the outer wall while the two long-lost-siblings had a mushy reunion that took far too much time because they were both over-dramatic and decided not one but both of them had to faint. Well, Ráidon - that was his name, right? - died and came back, but Triana just straight up passed out for no good reason. He thought he was the only one allowed to be such a drama queen. Or he drama princess, he should say. Since Triana wasn't a queen.

He watched as the two siblings turned their heads towards him. Triana looked offended, but Ráidon just looked... well, he looked offended at first.

"Oh, come on, now, we can't wait forever," Aumrauth joked with a knowing smirk.

Immortal jokes. He was obligated.

He could sense Val rolling his eyes behind him.

But just as the royal duo helped each other get to their feet (with their guard hovering closeby like an airship mom) the beast of the sea started marching over like she owned the place.

"Where are we?" demanded Morana-Hermina or whatever she wanted to be called.

"Somewhere hot," Aumrauth offered. Morana glared at him.

"We're in the Great Western Desert," Val said like he was correcting him. Technically they were both right.

Ráidon looked like he shook off some of his no-longer-dead stupor and he nodded. "He's right," he confirmed.

"Well, where the hell is the ocean from here?" Morana asked, swirling around to look at Ráidon.


"Thirsty?" Aumrauth questioned.

"We're not going to the ocean, Morana," Val said dryly.

"You've been awake for three minutes and you're already homesick," Aumrauth cooed. "How sad."

Morana spun back around to look at them. She'd done this to herself, walking into the middle of their group's circle when she could just as easily back up a few steps so she could look at everyone without having to rotate 180 degrees every time she wanted to insult someone.

"Ruthie," Val warned.

Morana pointed her finger at Aumrauth and glared at him, meeting his eyes. "You better learn to control your tongue before I cut it right out of your mouth, you dirty, filthy, evil little--"

"Hermina," Val interjected sharply.

She shifted her glare to Val and snarled.

"Despite appearances," Aumrauth said. "I am being held here against my will."

He looked to Val with a meaningful glance. Val tripped him, and he knew Val would probably do it again. He didn't exactly want to get into a physical altercation. That wasn't his greatest strength.

Val muttered: "Ruthie," once again, but this time with the exasperation of someone who was (hopefully) close to giving up. Aumrauth watched as Val released a deep sigh and went so far as to face-palm to fully communicate his annoyance.

"You know what - I'm ignoring you -" Val turned to the others. "We need to figure out what's going on and who brought us--" Aumrauth watched Val's gaze lock on the hideous little sideburned fellow standing in the shade of the tomb's door, afar off, looking lost and like he wanted nothing to do with any of them. What was he even doing here, then? Aumrauth could already tell that Val was about to ask.

"You," Val said, making eye contact.

The sideburned individual looked around like Val meant someone else. There was no one behind them.

"Yes, you," Val emphasized. "What's your name?"

Aumrauth could see them swallow nervously before they cleared their throat. As if any amount of throat-clearing would fix their hideous haircut.

A small gust of wind picked up in the air, stirring the sand around their feet, and Aumrauth fixed his robe, which had gotten twisted around in his sandy fall. He started brushing sand off while the others talked.

"Uh," the man said in what clearly sounded like a faked deep voice. It was almost laughable. "I'm Oswald, or Oz. Pleased to meet you, I think."

Triana and Ráidon exchanged glances with each other, and then Val. It didn't look like anyone knew the name, but they all knew what was up. Aumrauth just shrugged, and Bati was quiet.

"I found him here before I opened the door," Ráidon said. Aumrauth noticed how Ráidon kept looking over at him like he was trying not to let his gaze linger. "I felt a powerful force leading me here, and... Oz, you said you were drawn here too?"

That's when it clicked. Aumrauth and Val looked at each other and Aumrauth was the one who vocalized it.

"Oooooooooh," he said.

"You must be the new immortal," Val said, with far less enthusiasm.

"New what?" Oz questioned, his eyes widening with panic.

Aumrauth hummed and put one hand on his hip, and one on his chin.

"You'd think the river would pick someone less ugly," Aumrauth commented.

Without even looking at him, Val launched his elbow into Aumrauth's side. Aumrauth wheezed and keeled over.


And then he went back to being ignored, all except for Oz, who was looking at him like he was genuinely hurt. Like some sort of child. And he might as well have been if he'd only just gained immortality.

"I don't know what's going on," Oz said quietly. "I don't even know who all of you are."

Aumrauth lifted his hand to ready himself to answer, even though he was still bent over, cradling his side, but Val smacked it down.

"I am Valerin vys Arden," Val said. "And these two are Princess Triana and Prince Ráidon, with their guard, Bati. Morana, the pirate. Oh, and Ruthie."

Just as Aumrauth stood back up, Val smacked him in the back. Aumrauth went to slide away from him, but Val stepped on Aumrauth's robe, which was always dragging on the ground to a degree. Unfortunately, that made it easy for people to step on it. Those people being Valerin. Aumrauth simply flipped his hair over his shoulder, nonplussed, and stood up straight again, this time fluttering his eyelids and smiling.

"It's Aumrauth Themaris to you if you don't want to lose a limb or your sanity, sweetie," he cooed.

Oz didn't seem to find comfort in that, and he shouldn't have. He still looked just as riddled with anxiety as he had from the start, if not even more so.

At that point, Morana spoke up.

"Listen, I could care less about this new immortal," she snapped. "I want to go home."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Aumrauth said with mock pity.

"Someone better tell me where the hell the ocean is from here, now!" Morana demanded.

Aumrauth couldn't help it. He started laughing, and Val elbowed him again, but he kept laughing, bending over and holding his knees.

"It's very far away," Ráidon answered over the laughter.

Morana's look of displeasure was sending Aumrauth into an even greater laughing fit, and Val, at that point, seemed entirely fed up with everything and pushed past him, up beside Morana, looking at the others.

"Listen," Val said. "If everyone he is immortal, and you two were drawn here-" he pointed to Ráidon and Oz, "-then clearly, whoever trapped us here wanted immortals locked away. But we don't know why, and we don't know who."

"But I wasn't locked away?" Oz cluelessly asked, again in a voice that was clearly forced to be deeper than natural.

"Keep up, will you?" Val said. "We sensed you before you came. And, look-"

He sighed, and marched up to Oz, grabbing one of the man's sideburns. With no announcement, he ripped it clean off the poor man's face.

So they were fake.

"Look, it's not what you think," Oz said defensively, putting his or her hands up. Aumrauth wasn't sure. "Please don't hurt me, I didn't mean to lie."

"I knew they were fake," Val said, and it almost sounded like sympathy.

"We're just tired of looking at them," Aumrauth said.

Val looked ready to change the subject again, but Oz looked a little shocked. Ráidon inched up to her and put his hand on her shoulder as a show of comfort.

"We need to find out who trapped us here," Val said.

"Do we?" Triana asked, finally speaking up. Aumrauth had almost forgotten she existed. Val turned to his cousin.

"If we don't find out who it is, they're just as likely to do it again," Val answered. "The only reason we escaped is that your brother happened to be drawn here after we woke up, I assume. But none of us remember how we got here in the first place, which is a threat to us all."

While Val stared explaining the obvious, Aumrauth started wandering back towards the entrance of the tomb, letting his fingers brush up against the stone where Ráidon had spilled his blood to open it, and tracing his fingers over the archway. There wasn't any physical evidence of who put them here, but... he did sense something. He hummed. The conversation between the others continued, but Aumrauth blocked it out because it didn't really matter. Whoever had put them here had likely left a magical signature that he could pick up on, it would just take a little bit of time.

"I can do a magical sweep of the area, then," he started thinking out loud. He wandered inside the tomb, and closed his eyes, dipping into the river. "Get a better read on you, whoever you are."

He was pretty sure he could hear the voice of Val, but it was drowned out.
Last edited by soundofmind on Thu Sep 09, 2021 3:01 am, edited 1 time in total.

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winterwolf0100 says...

Taeviláissonn Ráidon Babalabashacekep
Outside the opened tomb

Ráidon couldn't take his eyes off the crazy man-- Ruthie, as his cousin Val had called him. Everything about the man, his long white hair, his bright flashy jewelry, his long fancy robes, was begging for attention. It was all sleek, all perfect, all ethereally beautiful. Not to mention the fact that it was Aumrauth Themaris, a practical legend among the dark magic users. Ráidon was experienced of course, and some might even say somewhat of an expert, but if Ráidon was an expert, this man... this man was a god. Not that Ráidon believed in gods, because if there were a god walking amongst them, it would certainly not be this man, but still... He was said to be the most experienced dark magic user ever, a practical myth. So many of the spells Ráidon had studied, taken months and years to master, had been created by this man within the span of a day. If he wasn't a god, he was the closest you could get among mortals-- and immortals. He has the looks of a god, a small part of his brain whispered, and Ráidon blinked, as if that could push the thoughts out of his head.

"Taev," Triana murmured beside him. "We should use this time to talk."

Ráidon stiffened at the use of his old name, one buried in the decimation of his family and their throne. The necklace of white metal leaves felt heavy around his neck. He'd need to remove a leaf, now that Triana was here. He'd included one for every dead family member he'd known of, at least that he'd been close to-- five in total. His parents, his cousin, a sole pupil he'd grown close enough to to call family, and the fifth and final: Triana's.

"I go by Ráidon, Triana," he said gruffly.

She flushed and said quickly, "I'm sorry, that's what I--"

"You don't need to apologize," he interrupted calmly. "It is Ráidon to everyone else. To you, Taev." It felt weird to say his old name-- weirder still to acknowledge it as his own and tell someone they could call him by it. "And yes, we should talk. But I'm not sure now is the best time. We should wait for later."

"Immortals rarely sleep, cousin," Val cut in, and Ráidon glanced over to meet Val's gaze. "If you are waiting for a peaceful time to talk, while Ruthie is occupied is the best time to do it."

Ráidon paused, then sighed. "Fine, but--"

"I am no longer occupied!" Ruthie said enthusiastically, walking out of the tomb with a manic grin on his face, showing off sparkling white teeth. How he kept them so white when he'd been buried in a tomb for so long, Ráidon has no idea.

Ráidon raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but notice the slight height difference as he studied him more up close. He had to look up slightly at an angle to meet the elf's gaze, light grey eyes looking into icy white ones. He didn't realize how long his eyes had wandered over his figure before Ruthie's grin, if possible, widened further.

"I see I'm a lot easier on the eyes than little Ozzie over there, hm?" Ruthie smirked.

Ráidon clenched his jaw, his eyes trailing to Oz, who clearly seemed shaken up and hurt by the comments Ruthie kept throwing at him-- her? He wasn't sure. "Did you find anything, Ruthie?" He said, making a clear point of using the nickname.

"Aumrauth Themaris," Ruthie grinned. "I also respond to "The Greatest Mage of All Time.""

"No," he said, cutting off Val, who was scowling and looked as though he was about to argue back. "Ruthie is fine. Thanks for the offer though."

Ruthie laughed, but ignored his response, putting a hand on his chin. "I suppose though, I should answer your question... Taev."

"Get on with it," Val muttered.

Ruthie shot him an annoyed look. "Always impatient, this one."

Ráidon grit his teeth. He wanted to hear what he'd found out, but he couldn't resist. "It's Ráidon," he said flatly.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Ruthie said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, Taev--"

Ráidon narrowed his eyes. "It's Ráidon," he reiterated, but Ruthie talked over him as if he hadn't spoken.

"I learned nothing. Actually, not nothing. Val -- I need your help."

Val, looking slightly irritated and more than a little suspicious, said, "What do I have to do?"

Ruthie grinned. "Oh, I just need to borrow some of your magical essence." At the darkening of Val's face, he added, "just a sliver of your soul."

Ráidon wasn't sure what that exactly entailed, but Val seemed to understand. He didn't look upset though, just... inconvenienced. "You mean you need me to sit there while you--"

"Exactly!" Ruthie exclaimed. He seemed excited by the idea, and Ráidon frowned slightly.

"Is it.. is it permanent?" Val asked.

"The spell that only borrows your magic is sooooo much longer. You'll be fine!" Ruthie gave an encouraging nod, which on him, just looked like a killer trying to lure in prey. Ráidon definitely wouldn't trust that look, but Val seemed to be actually considering.

"Why do I let you do these ridiculous things to me?" Val sighed, and Ráidon realized he was actually going to do it.

"Because I'm pretty!" Ruthie grinned, and Ráidon wondered if that was really the reason. Was Val...? He'd never discussed sexuality with his cousin; he'd barely seen him, for that matter. But even someone not attracted to men would have to admit the physicality, elegance, the sheer energy surrounding Ruthie was... well, pretty probably wouldn't have been the first word Ráidon would've chosen... beautiful. Ruthie was one of those rare men who you could accurately describe as absolutely breathtaking and it wouldn't take away from their masculinity at all-- it was like he surpassed the boundaries of conventional gendered beauty.

Ráidon blinked and forced himself to tune back into the conversation. Talking about magic wasn't the right time to zone out, especially not with stupid thoughts like those.

Val had his head tilted, and was in the middle of saying, "--fond of you, to a certain degree." A small, rare smile graced his lips and Ruthie returned it with a mischievous one.

"Okay, now come with me." He grabbed Val by the arm and began to pull him back towards the tomb. "Time to drain your energy." He let out a small giggle, and Val snorted but walked with him until the two disappeared from view.

Ráidon watched them go, staring for several seconds after they were out of sight. Ráidon tried to place the uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he couldn't seem to figure out what it was. He recognized it, but he also had a suspicion that it had been a long time since he'd felt it. He shook his head and tore his eyes away from the spot the pair had disappeared to. He couldn't think about whatever it was right now. It might even just be a slightly sick feeling from dying a few hours; it wasn't exactly the most comfortable experience. He sighed and pulled himself from his thoughts. Best to take advantage of the temporary silence while they could. He turned back to Triana and said, "Let's talk."

As she nodded and turned to find a place for them to talk, Ráidon gently unclasped the necklace from around his neck, sliding two of the leaves off to reach the middle one. Once he'd pulled that one off, he slid the other two back in place. Although the leaves were indistinguishable in design, it felt wrong to remove any other than the leaf he'd added for her. With the four leaves instead of five, the necklace felt slightly lighter and unbalanced without a leaf in the middle. He slipped Triana's leaf into his pocket before he returned the necklace to its place around his neck. He let out a soft breath. After centuries of its feeling around his neck, the off-weight felt so wrong.

"Taev," Triana said, pulling him out of his head. She watched him, then gently tilted her head towards a pile of rubble a little ways away from the rest of the group. He took in a deep breath and nodded. Now was the time for talking. He had an eternal future to think about the past-- and even with limitless time, he wouldn't.

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soundofmind says...

Aumrauth Themaris
Outside the Sealed Tomb - Somewhere In The Desert

"Listen," Aumrauth said calmly. "You said you were hungry. I came up with a solution. It's not my fault you have standards."

"We are not resorting to cannibalism," Val said, nearly fuming.

"But you know I'll just regenerate overnight!" Aumrauth continued. "And then you can just use the meat and cook it and it won't even be recognizable as human! And at least you get something out of it, you know. A full stomach."

He gestured to the small fire they'd built between all of them, inching his hands dangerously close to the flame. He was toying with the idea, wondering if he should just go ahead and do it himself, forcing everyone's hand. Then, at least, they'd stop complaining about empty stomachs and the hot sun and he could take a "nap" for a while. Sure, the nap was just being dead for a few hours, but he'd be back in time to annoy everyone enough again.

Besides, they'd all be bored without him. They'd just never admit it. That, and he was the only one keeping them going, really. He'd been leading them through the desert for a week because he was the only one who'd picked up on the magical signature left behind by their captor - whoever that person was.

So if he suggested cannibalism, the least they could do was hear him out.

"You really think we'd want to eat you?" Morana whined. "Look at you. You're skin and bone. There isn't even any meat on you in the first place."

"Don't encourage him," Val groaned, but was again, intentionally ignored.

"It's not my fault I've been asleep for an indeterminate amount of time likely equal to hundreds and hundreds of years. Hard to have a healthy diet when you're dead asleep," Aumrauth said innocently, putting his hand on his chest and giving Morana puppy eyes. Naturally, her reaction was to curl her lip and roll her eyes.

"Why are we still tolerating this loon?" Morana asked, looking pointedly to Val.

"Because he's useful," Val said flatly.

Morana groaned, looking at the others. At this point, Ruthie had gotten used to the others ignoring him most of the time. Triana and Raidon were sitting next to each other on the other side of the fire, and it looked like they were talking quietly to one another. Bati was faithfully standing behind them, and then Oz - the young one - he or she or they was sitting distantly from everyone, though still within the fire's light.

"You hear that?" Aumrauth said cheekily. "He said I'm useful."

"Ruthie, dearest?"

"Hm?" Aumrauth turned to Val.

"Shut up."

Aumrauth took in a long, dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, leaning back into the sand to stare up at the starry sky.

"Only for you, Val," Aumrauth sing songed. Val hissed and a hand smacked into the back of his head.

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?"

"Ow!" Aumrauth whined, even though it didn't hurt enough to warrant it. He then swatted Val's hand away with several pats of his hand. When he turned his head to look up at Val, who was sitting up in the sand next to him, Val was scowling.

Aumrauth mimicked the scowl in a mocking manner. Val flipped him off and turned back to the fire.


Aumrauth took in a deep breath and shifted his shoulders to get more situated into his sandy desert bed and crossed his legs at his ankles. He never really slept much, if at all, but he was good at pretending. You had to be when you were alive for so long. Though typically, people were alerted to his otherness before even observing his behavior because of the sickly pallor of his skin and the darkened whites of his eyes.

Several long minutes turned into an hour of silence, stretching on in an endless boredom that Aumrauth was well acquainted with. His normal coping mechanism was to speak to himself, though, so having to do so inside his head instead of verbally was something of a challenge. It wasn't that he cared about annoying the others - if he'd cared about that he would've changed his manners a long time ago - but he wasn't exactly fond of all of the physical abuse he suffered from Val.

Finally, as the sky started to slowly get brighter with the dawning of a new day, he decided it was about time to break the silence.

He blew a raspberry, effectively making a farting noise.

He looked to Val for a reaction, catching Val's glare, but then a bunch of sand pelted his face.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Slowly, he wiped it out of his eyes and sputtered a bit to get it out of his mouth.

"Good morning, Morana," he said in an overly polite, chipper tone.

"The moment we make it to a town or a city or something other than this hellscape, I'm slitting your throat," Morana seethed.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ruthie said with a smirk as he sat up, rubbing his face a few more times to be rid of all the pesky little granules.

As he got to his feet he noted that Raidon was stomping out the fire, and Bati was watching him like a hawk. Triana was by Oz, and the two of them were staring off into the distance, looking at... something.

He followed their gaze.

"Huh," he hummed aloud.

Far off in the distance, it looked like there was a city. Or at least, the fuzzy silhouette of one on the hazy desert horizon.

Val had stood up next to him, and clearly, he noticed it as well. No one really announced it as every immortal's eyes landed on the city in the distance.

"Raj Mahija," Raidon said.

"Raj... what?" Oz asked quietly.

"That's the name of the city," Triana explained.

"We're going there. Now," Morana announced - as if she was the one giving the orders. Without waiting for the others, she started stomping off in that direction, trudging through the sand.

Aumrauth slowly looked over to Val.

"When was the last time you were in Raj Mahija?" he asked.

Val frowned, tilting his head. "I don't actually know, time-wise... But if you mean what it was like... Hm, small. The tower was still there...but not like that. It's...changed."

Aumrauth nodded, pursing his lips in thought.

He could sense the pull getting stronger in that direction. Perhaps the person who'd trapped them in the tomb was a learned mage of the academy. He hadn't been to Raj Mahija since its golden days as a sanctuary for mages. He wondered if the city still had its magical barrier... maybe it wouldn't let Morana in. That would be funny.

"You think Zara's still alive?" Aumrauth asked with a little smirk.

Val snorted. "Probably. They're as hard to kill and as long-lived as us."

"It'll be good to see an old friend again," Aumrauth said, a smirk growing as he started moving. Morana was way ahead of them already, but he wasn't concerned about rushing. "Unless Zara's off with Shandor again. That would be disappointing."


Aumrauth watched as Triana, Raidon, and Oz all exchanged glances before they started moving towards the distant blob that was Raj Mahija. Bati followed after them like the boring, faithful guard she was.

Aumrauth paused in his steps, looking back at Val with a raised brow. Val raised one right back and moved to follow.

Maybe they'd find answers in Raj Mahija. If they didn't find who sealed them away, hopefully, they could at least benefit from their libraries and knowledge. It'd been too long since Aumrauth had the privilege of being around other educated scholars who really cared about the sacred practice of magic, and respected the river as much as he did.

As I grow older, I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do.
— Andrew Carnegie