Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Cam]

---

Cam was churning butter. She churned butter all the time. Looking up for a minute at the hazy horizon, she noticed odd little dots, moving in the distance. They were getting closer to where she was at. It actually seemed like maybe they were moving faster now. When they got close enough for her to make out what they were, she noticed Denzin first. He ran past the door screaming "SOMEONE'S TRYING TO ASSASSINATE ME". He was followed by Cal Hurst who was dressed in a cow costume, and silently running for his life. Close behind him, came Kali who had a bucket in one hand, and a stool in the other, screaming "Cal!! Cal, come back!!" and Selena chasing after them throwing fire bombs and weird purply potions. They ran back and forth in front of the doors and windows of the little shed she was in. She stopped churning and just watched, head tilted in confusion. She blinked in a white hot flash and they were completely gone, but she didn't feel alone. She felt even less alone.

She could feel someone's body right behind her, and their breath on her neck. Trying to ignore this, she went back to the butter churning. A pair of arms slowly crept in around her waist and took her hands off the handle and turned them so her palms were facing up. Then she felt a small vial sliding into each one of them. The strangers hands closed her hands around the vials, and rested on her arms. Then a voice whispered in her ear. It was soothing and comfortable. The voice itself wrapped around her brain and pulled her in. She swayed in a daze of happiness. The voice kept whispering for her to put the contents of the vial into the barrel of butter. Once she finally stopped swooning over the voice long enough to hear the actual words, she poured it in without hesitation. The body behind her disappeared in a flash, just as fast as her Blackmarsh friends had.

Cal walked in, sans cow costume, and nodded to her. She bit her lip nervously, knowing what she put in the butter could not possibly be good. "Hi Cal", she responded, anyways. He walked over to a little table where she had fresh rolls and picked one up, and the butter knife, and walked back to the butter barrel. He took a little of her fresh butter with the knife and spread it on the roll. It seemed like he was moving in slow motion, as his hand brought the buttered roll to his mouth. Just as he was about to take a bite, she screamed his name.

She jolted awake, still screaming his name, in a cold sweat in the guest room at Edda's house. She sat up and pulled on her hooded robe, shivering. She went downstairs in front of the fire and sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slightly. 'This cannot be good.. at all' she thought.
_________________
Butter
Hawtness

[Azunda]

---

Azunda gripped the locks of blue hair tightly, focusing intently upon them with narrowed eyes. The only sounds in the grand white marble Hall of Morgaz were the gnashing of his teeth. He fell to his knees dripping sweat, breathing heavily through his teeth. Though he was still focused.

Behind him stood a large, imposing statue of Morgaz; The avatar of Oblivion. The spread of it's six webbed wings cloaked Azunda in shadow. To his left stood Tyranthraxus, arms folded looking down at Azunda with curiosity, though dispassionate. To his right was the Unnamed One, adorned in his signature black mask. He was motionless, but Azunda could feel his piercing gaze. The Unnamed One was juding him. At least, Azunda assumed so. Tyranthraxus took a step toward Azunda, the click of his boot echoing throughout the hall. He towered over him, staring down upon his fatigued frame. Azunda could not bring himself to look Tyranthraxus in the face.

"The Mirror, boy. You long for it, don't you?"

"I do. I have. For years, since I had first seen you hold it."

"I did not deny you the right to the Mirror."

"I am aware."

"Who did, Azunda?"

"..."

"Speak his name."

"..."

"I don't recall taking a coward as an apprentice."

"..." Tears of rage began to streak Azunda's face, his fair complexion now a furious shade of red.

"Despicable, boy. We once plotted the ruin of former lich lords. Yet now, you cannot speak Darrien's name."

"..."

"This hair, it isn't about the woman. I know you, we're alike. One woman is as good as the next. You need a new obsession, isn't that right?"

"Perhaps, though I'm hardly obsessed."

"Not yet. But it's who you are. You obsess, you ponder, you draw sigils in the dirt for the dry hope of catching a mere glimpse of what the Mirror may have to show you. When that fails, you find an escape."

"Stuff and nonsense. What escape?"

"This temple you've built. The statue of a divine figure you haven't even seen behind you, myself, Ezerak, that collection of bottles you keep with you, and even this conversation."

"This conversation?"

"When did I resurface? When did I return to you? Why is Ezerak strolling about as if the final days of the Stygian Empire never happened? You're in a trance, boy. Wake up."

Azunda snapped awake, sitting with his legs cross over each other. He examined his surroundings. There was no Marble Hall, no Tyranthraxus, No Ezerak, and certainly no statue of Morgaz. He was in the now abandoned crypt of Maabus, sitting in dirt. He looked to his hand, and indeed the locks of hair were real. He stood and left the crypt, wondering if he was successful in his endeavors. He considered visiting Cammila to find out, though he wouldn't know how to gauge her, let alone keep up a polite conversation, even polite by his own standards.

Though "Tyranthraxus" was correct, Azunda reached into his pouch and uncorked a bottle.
_________________