@Transience Ellarian doesn't like liars XD He's about as blunt as a shield too.
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 750 (0.19 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Harbringer 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
SsssssSsSsssSs
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
Why is ecology so dry...
Bio
20 year old skinny asian living in Australia. Nothing much to say really. Despiser of the YOLO generation. Acts more like a crochety old man.
Has two dogs. Pets them a lot and applies the same logic to humans too.
Most Recent Posts
The desert wind was scorching and arid on Ellarian's face as his horse laboured through the sands. He licked his dry, cracked lips as another dust devil kicked up some sand in a vain attempt to skin him alive, succeeding only in filling his mighty beard with enough material to mortar a small house. The deserts were harsher than when he had last walked this earth. Doyles and small desert creatures had thrived among the semi-arid environment, but now there remained only the constant dull yellow and orange of sand along with the occassional sun bleached white of bone. Tying his banner around his face as a makeshift muffler, the revived hero gently nudged his mount forwards as he squinted his eyes again. The flaying sands and harsh sunlight forced him to almost close his eyes as he checked the position of the sun against the horizon. It would be dark soon. And the desert was not a place one wanted to travel at night, especially not with the infamous northern sandstorms on the horizon. Kicking his heels into his horse's flank, he urged it forwards just a little bit faster.
A thin layer of frost had formed on his armour as he leaned on his horse's hip, gently running his gauntleted hand through his wild mane. The two had found shelter underneath a rocky outcropping which shielded them from the worst of the howling wind and flying sand. He had started a modest fire in the little cave which illuminated the rough sandstone walls and provided some measure of comfort. At a simple whinny from his companion, Ellarian poured some more of his canteen's contents into the horse's bowl which it lapped up greedily. As its head came to rest on his shoulder, Ellarian found himself staring deeply into the flames, as if afixed in a trance. He could feel a piercing gaze from within the sandstorm outside, but he shook it off as a hallucination born from his long journey. There was nothing in this desolate land but carrion birds and corpses picked clean over decades....and yet he could not shake the standard soldier's superstition of an old witch who followed like misfortune on a baggage train. As his gauntlet brushed against the small sack of salvaged hellpowder, Ellarian wondered if such a strange substance would work on non-humans... Sitting up, he stoked the flames with what little firewood he had left; there was no sense worrying about what wasn't there. He still had a long journey ahead of him. He had not the energy to waste on these pointless thoughts.
At the crack of dawn, Ellarian set off again, at first leading his horse over the newly formed dunes before mounting up and starting off on a canter. At first it was as dull and bland as ever, the unchanging landscape broken only by an occassional dune. Likewise the silence was suffocating, broken only by the occassional screech of a carrion bird floating overhead. He paid it no mind as they continued to circle overhead; he didn't plan on being a meal any time soon. Though he tried to banish depressing thoughts from his mind, he could not help but wonder if he was going the right way, after all, all these sand dunes looked the same. He looked towards the heavens once more, seeking Ansur's guidance. Discerning no new information, he settled it with a sigh and sat back into his saddle. If he was to die again, what would become of him? Was he now immortal? Would he never be able to return to that silent contemplative space again? These thoughts continued to nag at him even as a flash of green and brown caught his eye.
An oasis? And in so remote a location? The hackles on the back of Ellarian's neck rose up in suspicion. As a soldier of the north, he was no stranger to mirages and their like, but this particular oasis looked rather convincing, though it was most probably just wishful thinking. Nevertheless...Gently tugging at his horse's reins, he clicked his tongue and lightly dug his heels into its flanks, sending to towards the oasis at a trot. Speculation was all well and good, but mirage or not, it was the best way to top up his dwindling supplies. Not to mention the sirens call of a hot meal, a soft bed...and possible a soft woman to accompany it was too great to pass up.
As he had suspected, it had not been a mirage. Leaving his horse tied up outside, Ellarian calmed the beast as it tried to tear itself away from the post. He knew how it felt. There was something subtly wrong here, but he could not quite put his finger on it. "Calm, boy," he hushed as he stroked its snout, "you've brought me this far, and that means I owe you. Have faith." With that, the horse settled for nodding its head and worrying at the ground with its hoof. Looking up to the sign hanging above the building, he read the Laughing Monk off of it. An odd name to be sure, and one that was vaguely familiar. Gingerly pushing open the door, Ellarian did a quick check of the area. Silent as an army's chapel. "Hello?" he hazarded as he stepped under the doorframe, entering the tavern proper. It was pleasant enough, though the musty smell of age and dust masked anything else. Polished wooden chairs and tables were placed uniformly around a common area, while an upholstered seat took up a corner around a seldom used fireplace. The bar counter was clean and stocked with several wooden barrels, shining glasses placed underneath. "Yes?" came a soft, female voice as a pretty, young thing bounced down the stairs leading to what was probably an inn, "is that a customer?"
"Aye," Ellarian replied as he undid his muffler, "I require lodging, a meal and something to forget me troubles. Although she at first affixed him with a wondrous stare, it soon burst into unbridled joy. "Yes! Yes of course!" she shouted, before running back upstairs, "father! Father a customer is here!"
Occupying a rickety old seat, Ellarian sat patiently, staring into space before a mug and steaming hot plate of something was placed in front of him. It smelled off. Not quite enough to be inedible, but enough that he could tell that it was not fresh. Or that there was something VERY unusual in it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ale wench lick her lips, ever so slightly. "Please, try the pork," she prompted, in an attempt to start his meal. Taking another deep breath, he felt the scent invade his lungs. Gently pushing his seat back, Ellarian stood up and slowly walked towards the girl. Towering over her, he stared directly into her eyes. "W-what is it?" she asked, shaking visibly. Without warning, the soldier delivered a brutal cross straight into her face with enough force to send her crashing through the wooden wall and into the sand. Taking a washcloth from the counter as he began to calmly walk towards the gaping hole in the wall, Ellarian began to wipe his fist of blood. "So...care to reveal to me your true form?" he asked reasonable, despite his previous action. Like a heat haze, the tavern behind him began to shimmer and waver, the illusion disappearing to reveal a run down old shack.
A thin layer of frost had formed on his armour as he leaned on his horse's hip, gently running his gauntleted hand through his wild mane. The two had found shelter underneath a rocky outcropping which shielded them from the worst of the howling wind and flying sand. He had started a modest fire in the little cave which illuminated the rough sandstone walls and provided some measure of comfort. At a simple whinny from his companion, Ellarian poured some more of his canteen's contents into the horse's bowl which it lapped up greedily. As its head came to rest on his shoulder, Ellarian found himself staring deeply into the flames, as if afixed in a trance. He could feel a piercing gaze from within the sandstorm outside, but he shook it off as a hallucination born from his long journey. There was nothing in this desolate land but carrion birds and corpses picked clean over decades....and yet he could not shake the standard soldier's superstition of an old witch who followed like misfortune on a baggage train. As his gauntlet brushed against the small sack of salvaged hellpowder, Ellarian wondered if such a strange substance would work on non-humans... Sitting up, he stoked the flames with what little firewood he had left; there was no sense worrying about what wasn't there. He still had a long journey ahead of him. He had not the energy to waste on these pointless thoughts.
At the crack of dawn, Ellarian set off again, at first leading his horse over the newly formed dunes before mounting up and starting off on a canter. At first it was as dull and bland as ever, the unchanging landscape broken only by an occassional dune. Likewise the silence was suffocating, broken only by the occassional screech of a carrion bird floating overhead. He paid it no mind as they continued to circle overhead; he didn't plan on being a meal any time soon. Though he tried to banish depressing thoughts from his mind, he could not help but wonder if he was going the right way, after all, all these sand dunes looked the same. He looked towards the heavens once more, seeking Ansur's guidance. Discerning no new information, he settled it with a sigh and sat back into his saddle. If he was to die again, what would become of him? Was he now immortal? Would he never be able to return to that silent contemplative space again? These thoughts continued to nag at him even as a flash of green and brown caught his eye.
An oasis? And in so remote a location? The hackles on the back of Ellarian's neck rose up in suspicion. As a soldier of the north, he was no stranger to mirages and their like, but this particular oasis looked rather convincing, though it was most probably just wishful thinking. Nevertheless...Gently tugging at his horse's reins, he clicked his tongue and lightly dug his heels into its flanks, sending to towards the oasis at a trot. Speculation was all well and good, but mirage or not, it was the best way to top up his dwindling supplies. Not to mention the sirens call of a hot meal, a soft bed...and possible a soft woman to accompany it was too great to pass up.
As he had suspected, it had not been a mirage. Leaving his horse tied up outside, Ellarian calmed the beast as it tried to tear itself away from the post. He knew how it felt. There was something subtly wrong here, but he could not quite put his finger on it. "Calm, boy," he hushed as he stroked its snout, "you've brought me this far, and that means I owe you. Have faith." With that, the horse settled for nodding its head and worrying at the ground with its hoof. Looking up to the sign hanging above the building, he read the Laughing Monk off of it. An odd name to be sure, and one that was vaguely familiar. Gingerly pushing open the door, Ellarian did a quick check of the area. Silent as an army's chapel. "Hello?" he hazarded as he stepped under the doorframe, entering the tavern proper. It was pleasant enough, though the musty smell of age and dust masked anything else. Polished wooden chairs and tables were placed uniformly around a common area, while an upholstered seat took up a corner around a seldom used fireplace. The bar counter was clean and stocked with several wooden barrels, shining glasses placed underneath. "Yes?" came a soft, female voice as a pretty, young thing bounced down the stairs leading to what was probably an inn, "is that a customer?"
"Aye," Ellarian replied as he undid his muffler, "I require lodging, a meal and something to forget me troubles. Although she at first affixed him with a wondrous stare, it soon burst into unbridled joy. "Yes! Yes of course!" she shouted, before running back upstairs, "father! Father a customer is here!"
Occupying a rickety old seat, Ellarian sat patiently, staring into space before a mug and steaming hot plate of something was placed in front of him. It smelled off. Not quite enough to be inedible, but enough that he could tell that it was not fresh. Or that there was something VERY unusual in it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ale wench lick her lips, ever so slightly. "Please, try the pork," she prompted, in an attempt to start his meal. Taking another deep breath, he felt the scent invade his lungs. Gently pushing his seat back, Ellarian stood up and slowly walked towards the girl. Towering over her, he stared directly into her eyes. "W-what is it?" she asked, shaking visibly. Without warning, the soldier delivered a brutal cross straight into her face with enough force to send her crashing through the wooden wall and into the sand. Taking a washcloth from the counter as he began to calmly walk towards the gaping hole in the wall, Ellarian began to wipe his fist of blood. "So...care to reveal to me your true form?" he asked reasonable, despite his previous action. Like a heat haze, the tavern behind him began to shimmer and waver, the illusion disappearing to reveal a run down old shack.
*Laughs from under a pile of ecology papers*
Probs get a post up tomorrow. Been a wild couple of days involving korean food and drinks. I have learned that koreans have tolerance to both.
@Blackbeard DON'T LAUGH AT ME I'M DYING HERE. Also take back your prisoners please. They're being dumbs again.
Meanwhile, here in Australia, still trying to survive against the local fauna.
Ellarian blankly stared at the captain as he leaned back against the wall. He wanted to spit. Royalty was never a good thing. Fattened up by soft lands and thinking with a cushioned brain, most kings that he had seen had no right to be called rulers. Even in his time the king had been of the cowardly stock, hiding within the safe confines of his palace while he sent legions of men to their deaths. The campaign to the north had been ill advised and portents and omens aplenty had warned them of the folly. And yet the king had driven them on. The vague memory tainted the hard earned victory with bitter hatred. Apparently even now, a coward was on the throne as he recalled the Captain's earlier comments. "You said that the King had refused previous calls for reinforcements?" Ellarian asked calmly as he fixed the Captain with his stony gaze. Like deer caught in the torchlight, the Captain simply stood stock still before nodding. "The king believed our claims a hoax and unsubstantiated..." he admitted quietly. "Did he ever check?" Ellarian prompted. The Captain remained silent. "I will ride out as soon as the wind dies down," he declared as he walked away, before stopping in the doorway. "Captain...what is your name?" he asked as an afterthought, looking back. Startled, the Captain saluted as he cleared his throat. "Mellyrn, Sir," he said proudly, "Captain Albury Mellyrn."
"Mellryn...you have potential," Ellarian said before turning away, "do not squander it always under the reign of a fool."
Borrowing a horse from the stables, a strong draft stallion that could hold his weight without collapsing, Ellarian began trotting towards the exit. The wind had died down by now and though the outside of the fort was covered with the hellpowder, the inside remained uncompromised. With nothing but the armor, shield, map and banner, Ellarian prepared to begin his journey. Hopefully the capital remained in the same direction as it had all those cycles ago. Music echoed throughout the halls as the liquor rations were doubled and the men celebrated their hard earned win. Ellarian couldn't blame them. From what he had heard they had been under siege for days, weeks even, with no relief in sight. As he gently tugged the reins of his horse, he began musing to himself. Was it this dire in other areas of the Empire? What had befallen it so badly that they could not afford to send a small detachment of soldiers away to check a vital fort?
As he approached the door, he was met by Captain Mellyrn and a small unit of cavalry. "Sir," he greeted, holding out a hand in greeting. Dismounting with a loud clang, Ellarian approached and grasped it firmly before banging it onto his chest, which the Captain reciprocated. It was an old warriors salute, mostly fallen out of use but the veterans often used this to distinguish each other. And it was only reserved for those who had earned their trust. "I have prepared a small squad of soldiers to guide you on your journey to the capital," he said, somewhat melancholically as they released their arms. Ellarian shook his head. "No, keep your men," he replied as he pet his horse, "you are in dire enough straits without losing more troops. This horse and a map are enough aid for my journey." The captain motioned to argue, but caught his tongue. Even if it had only been for a day, he knew that his stubbornness was near legendary in proportion. Bowing his head, he allowed Ellarian to pass. "We will meet again, Captain," the hero said as he passed, "on my word as a soldier."
"Mellryn...you have potential," Ellarian said before turning away, "do not squander it always under the reign of a fool."
Borrowing a horse from the stables, a strong draft stallion that could hold his weight without collapsing, Ellarian began trotting towards the exit. The wind had died down by now and though the outside of the fort was covered with the hellpowder, the inside remained uncompromised. With nothing but the armor, shield, map and banner, Ellarian prepared to begin his journey. Hopefully the capital remained in the same direction as it had all those cycles ago. Music echoed throughout the halls as the liquor rations were doubled and the men celebrated their hard earned win. Ellarian couldn't blame them. From what he had heard they had been under siege for days, weeks even, with no relief in sight. As he gently tugged the reins of his horse, he began musing to himself. Was it this dire in other areas of the Empire? What had befallen it so badly that they could not afford to send a small detachment of soldiers away to check a vital fort?
As he approached the door, he was met by Captain Mellyrn and a small unit of cavalry. "Sir," he greeted, holding out a hand in greeting. Dismounting with a loud clang, Ellarian approached and grasped it firmly before banging it onto his chest, which the Captain reciprocated. It was an old warriors salute, mostly fallen out of use but the veterans often used this to distinguish each other. And it was only reserved for those who had earned their trust. "I have prepared a small squad of soldiers to guide you on your journey to the capital," he said, somewhat melancholically as they released their arms. Ellarian shook his head. "No, keep your men," he replied as he pet his horse, "you are in dire enough straits without losing more troops. This horse and a map are enough aid for my journey." The captain motioned to argue, but caught his tongue. Even if it had only been for a day, he knew that his stubbornness was near legendary in proportion. Bowing his head, he allowed Ellarian to pass. "We will meet again, Captain," the hero said as he passed, "on my word as a soldier."
Bruh gin is where its at.
@TransienceNekminnit gives Ellarian an assassination mission.
@Transience Y u do dis.
© 2007-2024