Post by kipponoui on Jan 11, 2009 21:54:15 GMT -5
OOC: Ack! Sorry guys, I know I said it would be up earlier, but I started doing my health speech and I’m still working on it. >.< Anyways, here’s the first post! Hope you like it 
IC: Meian had only been witness to such a massacre once before in his life—and even then, that had been over 1000 years ago, during the start of the Vampiric Wars. Memories climbed to the surface of his memory, comparable to the scene before him now. Bodies lined the streets, cavities of new diseases and stenches, canisters for rotting organs. No longer did any soul inhabit the containers, having been devoured by the Darknesse long ago. Meian began walking down the cobblestone street, carefully avoiding from stepping on any of the corpses. The stench was nigh unbearable; the angel cast a quick spell to keep some clean air around his head, to keep out the poisonous stench of death. He made his way to the center of the town, moving the bodies with him by magyk. When he reached the center, he laid the bodies in a pile, which quickly became a mound, then a hill, until it eventually towered over the angel as a mountain. Promptly, the pyre was set ablaze, casting thick shadows about the corners but keeping the square warm and softly illuminated. A thick smoke was soon filling the air, however; with a sweep of Meian’s hand, a small wind picked up, carrying away the lingering memories of the bodies.
Meian moved over towards one of the decrepit stone houses and sat, reliving the night he had almost forgotten. Ironic, isn’t it? he thought, caught up in his déjà vu. The only thing missing is the— a soft raindrop splashed against Meian’s face, kissing his cheek in solace. A slight smile crept onto the angel’s lips, which opened just enough to allow a whispered “Nevermind” to escape.
It had been over 1000 years since Meian had last visited Maldrain, and things were exactly as they had been back then. Well, almost. The same cobblestone streets, the same step he was currently sitting on—the same Darknesse, the same monsters, the same rotting bodies; Hell, even the vampire population was back on the rise. Not that it mattered, for there weren’t enough humans left to support another Vampiric War, for either side.
There were only a few differences—Mei’s age (and along with it, wisdom and power), the slaughterers of these innocent victims, the inability for anyone to war with the Darknesse—not that there wasn’t any desire to be free from the Darknesse, just no one to fight for that desire.
Meian sat back on the step and looked to the cloudy sky as the rain began to fall in a light mist, hissing as it was licked away by the tongues of flame lighting the scene, and let himself be carried away by the memories. He tapped a small black rune, carved by himself so long ago, to remind himself that he would be safe as he thought.
IC: Meian had only been witness to such a massacre once before in his life—and even then, that had been over 1000 years ago, during the start of the Vampiric Wars. Memories climbed to the surface of his memory, comparable to the scene before him now. Bodies lined the streets, cavities of new diseases and stenches, canisters for rotting organs. No longer did any soul inhabit the containers, having been devoured by the Darknesse long ago. Meian began walking down the cobblestone street, carefully avoiding from stepping on any of the corpses. The stench was nigh unbearable; the angel cast a quick spell to keep some clean air around his head, to keep out the poisonous stench of death. He made his way to the center of the town, moving the bodies with him by magyk. When he reached the center, he laid the bodies in a pile, which quickly became a mound, then a hill, until it eventually towered over the angel as a mountain. Promptly, the pyre was set ablaze, casting thick shadows about the corners but keeping the square warm and softly illuminated. A thick smoke was soon filling the air, however; with a sweep of Meian’s hand, a small wind picked up, carrying away the lingering memories of the bodies.
Meian moved over towards one of the decrepit stone houses and sat, reliving the night he had almost forgotten. Ironic, isn’t it? he thought, caught up in his déjà vu. The only thing missing is the— a soft raindrop splashed against Meian’s face, kissing his cheek in solace. A slight smile crept onto the angel’s lips, which opened just enough to allow a whispered “Nevermind” to escape.
It had been over 1000 years since Meian had last visited Maldrain, and things were exactly as they had been back then. Well, almost. The same cobblestone streets, the same step he was currently sitting on—the same Darknesse, the same monsters, the same rotting bodies; Hell, even the vampire population was back on the rise. Not that it mattered, for there weren’t enough humans left to support another Vampiric War, for either side.
There were only a few differences—Mei’s age (and along with it, wisdom and power), the slaughterers of these innocent victims, the inability for anyone to war with the Darknesse—not that there wasn’t any desire to be free from the Darknesse, just no one to fight for that desire.
Meian sat back on the step and looked to the cloudy sky as the rain began to fall in a light mist, hissing as it was licked away by the tongues of flame lighting the scene, and let himself be carried away by the memories. He tapped a small black rune, carved by himself so long ago, to remind himself that he would be safe as he thought.
Congrats grimn! You're in the real mode, now. I've no doubt that you'll surprise yourself on just how tough and mature you can be.