Other mysterious voice “Oooops, oh my, there he is.” Mysterious voice “is he dead???”
Other, other, other mysterious voice “maybe, hopefully.” Other mysterious voice “ah, move out of the way, I got him.”
Complete darkness drowned Al’s mind, the voices slowly fading to nothingness, and he was left standing in the void, alone, once again. Yet his pacing in the dream-like pool of shallow nothingness, was interrupted once again, by a washing light, of wallowing greens and something holier. A faerie, coming to him in the dead of night, the thing was blinding, filling the void with sun an awe, it drew closer, spiking his heart with a decency and a warmth he had not felt in sometime. Spearing heat, the warmth grew hotter, hotter, and hotter still, and just like that, it was gone. Al’s eyes fluttered, sounding off to wing beats and the shrill cries of some tree bound lark. A blur settling upon the injured warrior’s entire disposition, sore hands heavy as they rushed against puffing eyes. Morning light fell blinding upon them, cascading a golden river down, filtering through veiny leaves and bristled bark. Dawn yellows pierced the boy’s eyes, obscuring the visages before him.
Taller mysterious voice, “what do we do with him?” Suave mysterious voice “Don’t look at me, I have no earthly clue.” Two voices drifted from the blobs of darkness, obscured within the boy’s eyes and mind, two tall creatures, speaking, clearly of him.
Al’s eyes began to adjust, pupils painfully pulling every which way, to absorb more of the sight before him. Through the swimming haze of milky prospect, Al could just pick out the makings of a purple hood, or perhaps a robe, adorning the figure on his left who’s back appeared to be turned to him. A hood, elegant perhaps? A wizard’s, a mage’s robe? Al’s mind put two and two together, these were, after all, the ones he so highly sought, the legendary man he so highly coveted, his salvation, and his curse. Mewling through agonizing bliss, the young man dragged his body from the roots of the tree he had been laid upon, pulling through dew slicked grass, to coarse shale.
Wherein Albatross shuffled to his knees, placing a swollen head and face amongst the dirt and ants, a lowly worm, hands stretched out forwards, his voice croaking all the while. Groveling in the dust, Al’s words struggled to leave his parched throat “please… oh great mage… please… you saved me… you saved my village, and my friends, you saved everyone… But, but I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t save anyone… couldn’t even save my own… sister… it’s only because of you, that everyone else… is still alive.” He spoke into the earth itself, hands raised, begging, pleading. “That… that power you wield, the power of a God… please teach me, I’ll do anything, I need to understand, to learn, please… I need that power to protect people, to protect everyone… without it, I can’t… I just… please.”
A surprised shuffling of boots in dust, followed the young boy's confession, “what do you say Galena? Want a little apprentice tailing you around all day like a lost puppy?” Words breathed in a smooth husky voice, tinged with an air of attitude and play. “Shhhhh, ah you ruined it Sonne, I was half hoping the lad would go on forever, but you spoiled the fun, you big brute.” Those words carved from a smooth, sultry, chest voice, hinted with mocking tones. “Excuse me, miss Galena, are you going to throw him out?” Came a soft straight voice, packed with schooling and forethought, Al did not know what was going on, but kept his face down during the whole transgression.
“Ah, nonsense dear, we’re only going to leave him here to starve… kidding, kidding, truly… he followed us for three days with no food or water… in all honesty, if we threw him out, he’d probably follow us until he died, yuck.” Said the sultry voice, Al was confused, he thought he was professing to some saintly wizard, not a wisecracking band of bards or something of that nature.
At that moment the boy’s cheeks felt rather cherry red, and he struggled to right his addled body. Shifting, Al grunted, landing back on his bottom, falling on ankles and wrists, his gaze ascending to the figures before him.
To Al’s left, directly in front of him stood a tall woman in a purple robe-like encasement. Like a raven, black feathers bristled around her collar, her face was contrasted, lightly tanned against a sea of dark curling blue, mixed with the deep blacks and purples of her rather classy and studious make up. Piercing violet eyes met Al’s, with pursed plush lips, a slightly upturned nose, and immaculate eyebrows, the raven studied him while he studied her. A sparkling deep purple dress flowed down her hourglass figure, hugging every curve perfectly, the fabric transforming into straps, or openings when it reached aspects of her personality it wished to show off, like the woman’s well shaped weighted bust, or perfectly smooth legs, descending to midnight heels. Every subtle movement rang the amethyst and ruby jewels that were strung up in lines of glittering silver, or which hung from the woman's ears or hair, causing a light show, each time the sun rebounded. Galena’s dress snapped into the deep purple shawl adorned with lion headed clasps, and she stuck her leg out from under the elegant dress just a hint. Al’s eyes basked in her jaw dropping presence, which she returned in kind, all while conversing with one of her partners… one of the other people in the clearing, Al turned his head slowly to perhaps witness more majesty, like nothing he had ever seen.
To his right was a fiery phoenix, a shock of bursting flame, the woman stood tall, a little too tall, trouncing even Galena, Al had to guess that Sonne was around six and a half feet tall, a pinnacle of muscle, of power. Sonne the half... orc stood and conversed in kind, burly, bulky, even under her armor. An eyepatch crested the woman’s left eye, contrasting the deep un-saturated red of her skin, a full suit of armor shining out against the elements, triangular at the top of thick metal cuirass with leather banded sides. Large metal pauldrons capped her shoulders, engraved with sleeping spiraling dragons, their wings etching across the chest plate. Shiny but scuffed, well taken care of but heavily used, all adapted for movement. Shin sabatons, metal flared skirt, all completed the look, everything lightly etched with dragon iconography, and of course her mane of dastardly red hair, pulled taught against her skull, strapped back in a ponytail, long and flowing behind her, as the tips of her long-pointed ears speared out from the flaming mess. “Soooooooooo - are you sure he’s not a spy or anything like that?” The subtle voice came, interrupting the two mighty figures' deliberation.
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