Posted Apr 13 2012 - 06:24 PM
OOC: Carrying on the olympic writing torch here...OH, btw: does anyone want sketches of locations or buildings? I've started doodling some places and am happy to send the sketches to someone for finishing as I complete them. Look for some photos on the wiki eventually too. We need more art on that place. That said, back to hacking at my keyboard with trigger fingers.IC: Draeverian JoskiirThe dreams assaulted Draeverian yet again. Voices would resound in his mind, pain would inflict itself through his brain, but something new had occurred. Something he couldn't place. A dark presence unlike anything before and with no superior rose in the recesses of his active mind, giving birth to an unknown evil. Something pressed against the doors of his stronghold, battered through the tiniest cracks, and slipped knives from his very shadow. Draeverian clutched the bed frame he lay on in this twisted world, looking down from a dangerous height to the valley of lava far below, the heat searing him even from his current position. Looking up, he could see his bed was nothing more than a foot hole in the mountain, and so he climbed. His hands were desperate, his breath coming slowly and with great pain as the fumes and heat worked their way into his lungs. Still he climbed. He could not call for help as the lava steadily rose, encroaching upon his ironic safety with due diligence. The apex of the mountain was a barren waste, a small desert made into the size of a ring. There was no color here. It was his world after the sights were dimmed, the eyes wrenched from their sockets with hot bolts of electricity. There was no warmth here. The lava rose to flush, but did not flow upon the crown of the mountain top. Draeverian was safe. Panting, he forced himself further into the ring, closer to the middle down the ground that quickly morphed into descending stairs, forming a great ring into the arena of his mind. Down below he heard the clammer of stillness, smelled the bloodbath of peace, felt the darkness of light. Descending ever deeper the sounds faded until all at once they were shoved away, covered by a shroud through which no stimuli could pass. Draeverian was utterly alone. The sound returned, a mere whisper, a slithering pattern of language spoken by a thousand tongues in unison. There was no discernment. Hate and anger washed over him in waves as the words rolled across the forked tongues of their messengers. Draeverian could not reply. Words evaded his mind, save for the river he floated in, washing him towards the mouth of a cavern, out into the light of some unknown world. The fire cracked again as Draeverian rolled in his bed. If he had a pair of eyes, they would have been bloodshot with fright. Throwing the linens off his body her slipped out of bed and took an unsteady step into the firelight of his home. "I need to get out. Something's not right with me." His armor easily assembled, a few ties pulled, a buckle here or there, and Draeverian was out the door, Rivet sliding into her collar as he left. The fire, closed in its oven, chortled as the door locked behind. It was the keeper of this home in the ice. The flame shifted a little, twitched and yawned, as if a pensive rahi bored with its surroundings, and then anticlimactically sputtered out. Ko-wahi shared none of the heat of Draeverian's small insulated home in the ice. Frost quickly formed on the edges of the toa's armor as he trudged through the hidden fortress of seekers and seers, his sole focus a single destination. Since the influx of foreigners to the island, there was only one real place Draeverian could go to read in solitude. Tourists and matoran owned the relic by day, but the night gave birth to his learned musings. Drawing up to the buildings, he nodded peacefully at the two guards on duty. "I come seeking Destiny," Draeverian said respectfully, his head inclined towards the ground partly out of cold.A cold matoran of the region just yawned and muttered, "Yeah yeah, I know you. Get in, just don't rub your greasy hands over the whole thing tonight okay?""Thank you Komu." Draeverian replied as he passed by, quickly ascending the steps into the chamber. Draeverian could remember the colors, the splendor of this relic from before his sight was lost. In here, no one spoke, the only sound being the slight rustling of fabric and feet, or the occasionally tapping of a new prophecy being carved. It was midnight for sure, and the moon would be glancing through the holes in the domed roof, giving an unearthly splendor to the icy hall. Stepping forward with echoing strides in the darkness, he placed a hand on the wall, feeling the indention in the surface. In the time before time, Mata-nui... It was the legend of the six toa he read through the night, his palms tracing the letters of his kind with a fervor as each word resounded in him. Why did they fail? Have I failed them? What would Kopaka have done in the mines?