Looking to the future. ( Myself vs DK. )

[Purple Feather]

I'm pretty sure you know the rules. This will be done with PCs. As I told you earlier, I won't use a template, but you have my word that I won't use anything outside of Lassistaya's template. If you really want me to post it, just ask. Since I'm not posting one, I won't ask you for one. Just make a post so we can get going.

Have fun =)

And, no spammers please.

IC:

The end.

How close am I to these words?
I know that we once feared them.
But these birds have learned to fly.
And we will be ready for the day you're awakened,

my sleeping little wolf.

I can feel all threads intertwining much more smoothely now.
Everything falling into place.
To me, you shall bestow.
A light to reveal that The end will be...

The beginning."

Speaking softly to herself, in somewhat of a melody, the poet wrote gently upon her diary the words she had spoken. She wrote with a silky, purple quill, with perfection in every loop and stroke of her cursive writing. It was beautiful, in a way, and almost artistic. Her breath lingered in front of her face for a moment, before ascending into the sky. It was cold uptop the snowy mountains, although it wasn't as bad, for the sun was shining brightly overhead. Few clouds moved slowly acrossed the sky, partially blocking the sun every so often.

She closed her diary and, with a loud clicking sound, locked it with a spell that only responded to her. The quill was tucked safely into a pouch along the spine of the book, before being put back against her side. The diary had a chain within the spine, which was attached to her belt and was able to shift lengths upon her manipulation of it. She shortened the length severely, so that it was secured at her side. The woman looked in her late twenties, and wore a black dress, off the shoulders.

For a long while, she had been wandering through the land in a state of confusion. She had been stricken with a heavy blow since the day of the 'final battle,' having just recently been recovering and realizing that it wasn't over just yet. Far away from where she stood, on a different planet, she could faintly detect a familiar presence, doing battle with a few others. It wasn't out of hostility, although a lot was upon the shoulders of the battle, and she depended on this greatly.

However, she knew her recovery owed much to this presence, and also knew that his detection was just another step to his own recovery. He was beginning to re-awake, after all these years. She wrote her poem in her faith for him, and, as such, her spirit began to feel at complete ease and balance. Her spiritual energy quickly flowed through her body like a river does, when not stricken by pollution or any other blockades. A faint, thin line of blue began to rise from her feet to the top of her body as she sighed, only to outline her entire figure afterward, being the same color as her ocean blue eyes.

We all look foward to seeing you again.

With that thought, she looked over at the horizon, enjoying the view of the other mountains and the valley down below, only within a few miles away from her current position.

[Faint_Remnant]

Feather I hope this is a battle that you will actually finish. I'm sure it won't be too hard for ya.

[Purple Feather]

Would have liked to have gotten this going =(

Think you'll have time over the summer? If not, this battle is open to someone else, then.

[Azanulbizare]

Nobody post anything, I have this reserved.

Bitches.

Oh, I have just the character.

Edit this post with him.

EDIT: AAAANDD HERE WE ARE

Name: Elrair

Titles: The Battle Muse, the Elratu, High Commander of the Knights of Ambrosia

Age: 146

Gender: Male

Homeworld: The Carymthre Region of Eloabes

Born: Year 1478 of the Ninth Age

Species: Eloabean Elf

Family: Sayrael (Father) [Deceased] Kemythe (Mother) [Alive]

Universe: Elrair lives within an expansion of the KH Universe, specifically in the world of Eloabes.

Arms: Elrair wields swords proficiently, and is always seen with his reliable hand-and-a-half sword. The handle of this weapon is roughly eight inches in length, with the blade tapering to a sharpened point roughly four feet from the hilt. The sword itself is well balanced, because of the fact that it was crafted with mythril and steel combined, so as to be strong without being overly rigid. Upon the hilt is crossguard is the Elratu crest, giving the blade the ability to act as a sort of conduit of the Coalescence.

Along with his swordplay, Elrair is renowned for his skill with both polearm and longbow. With him he carries a shortspear that is little bigger than a quarterstaff, with a blade at the end which is almost a foot long, being also thin and elegant. The haft of the weapon is made of mahogany, whereas the blade is made of simple steel with silvered edges. This weapon has no crest on it, but has been enchanted so as to repel rain from its haft; a necessary precaution. Elrair does not bring a bow with him, but has been known to steal that of his enemies.

Appearance: Elrair, as an elf, has certain characteristics that will immediately set him apart from most of those that surround him. He stands at around six foot three, with his ears reaching a softly tapered point at the top. His eyes are that of the deepest hazel, and are almond shaped. Aside from that he has strong cheek bones and a gentle brow, with skin that is a natural light gold from his time spent in the sun.

Generally wearing the sturdy clothes that mark an adventurer, he is seen usually wearing rough leather armor, over which is a dark brown jerkin and under which is a green cotton shirt. Over all of this is his deep forest cloak, which is both brown and green, so as to blend in with the local flora. His boots are of high quality but are worn down, the results of many years traveling. Often he wears gloves to protect his hands from the scrapes and cuts that can distract an adventurer, but he takes them off when he is casting a spell. Always upon the ring finger of his left hand is a simple platinum and sapphire band, with golden inlays. This ring allows Elrair to channel the Coalescence for limited amounts of times; as such, he may use his magic even when away from his homeworld.

Traits: Elrair, as an Elf, is immune to any compulsions that may cause unnatural fear, melancholy, or slumber. He is also capable of moving completely silently, and can move weights that are well beyond the capabilities of the average human.

Abilities: As befitting of a seasoned adventurer, Elrair has several tricks up his sleeve. The first of these tricks is the ability to use different sounds to his advantage, including using them in conjuction with several marks learned from his time in the Old Kingdom to form complex spells. These, however, take a bit of time to cast properly. Elrair has also been known to slip into a blood-pumping rage, from which he only comes out of with difficulty. While raging he attacks any enemies nearby with whatever is at hand, or with his bare fists.

Biography: Elrair was born to a family of Elves that are of the highest ranking in the Empyreal Army; his father was himself the Grand Master of the Knights of Ambrosia, the elite unit that is both above and beyond the strength of any military unit that is also within the Empyreal command. Elrair’s mother was a warrior-mage that served under his father, and they met the day that Kemythe joined the Knights. As Sayrael was the leader of this group it was extremely taboo for the two to have any relationship besides that of friend and soldier, but the two entered a marriage within five years of Kemythe’s joining the Knights.

Four years later with two miscarriages, Kemythe became pregnant with her son, the one that the Elder Mage was already calling Elrair. The name Elrair means ‘a shining one’, with the term Elraith meaning ‘one that shone’. In addition to these names that were given to him by the Elder Mage, Elrair was given the secret name of Yrael by his mother, and he was forbidden to ever give any mention of it. That name has fallen into disuse, and only an elite few know that Elrair is possessed of three names. This confused the young man when he was young, and so he chose the name Elrair as his primary, Elraith as his secondary, and Yrael as his secret name. Te last name of Manthyse means ‘eclipsing warrior’, and has been used to describe Elrair’s family for the past thousand years.

Growing up, Elrair was generally on the move with his parents, traveling about the large Empyre. Because of this he is a proficient rider, and has learned the languages of many peoples. Through this time he also gained a passing familiarity with weapons, showing a particular affinity for swordplay and archery. These skills weren’t allowed to develop for some time, however; both mother and father were afraid for their child’s safety, as the young Elrair wasn’t very good at evaluating risks. One time the nine year old child wandered into a cave with nothing but the clothes on his back, and was nearly devoured by a Mordicant, one of the Greater Dead that was thought of as one of the Greater Dead; it was thought that these creatures had been terminated by the Abhorsen Lirael, but it seemed that the Greater Dead could gain power whenever they have absorbed enough of the lesser dead. Elrair was barely saved from the magic of his father, and he was known to lie in a coma for nearly three months after the excursion.

When he turned thirty, he was apprenticed to Noathe, a warrior that his father had trained many years ago. During this time Elrair became known for his skill with the blade, and he often participated in the Shows that happened bi-monthly in the capital of the Old Kingdom. Taking the prize for Champion at the end of each event, he was soon barred from competition so that the other contestants would-in essence- feel better about themselves. After this happened Elrair began to work for the Army’s youth division until he turned seventy-four; it was at that time that he received the blessing of the Coalescence, occurring at a rare time in which the sun was setting in Ancellstierre at the same time that it was rising in Elobeas, the Old Kingdom. The Elder Mage that foresaw this was one of the Clayr who had been gifted with the Sight, and she had Seen this very moment.

The next forty years of Elrair’s life were consumed by the Wallmaker’s War, a war in which the Dead rose again to attack any of those that were living and breathing; during this time the land went through three different Abhorsens, two of them dying from the attacks of Kerrigor, the Dead Adept that had been freed from his imprisonment forced upon him by Sabriel and Touchstone. After he was freed the Dead Adept went about trying to destroy the Great Charter Stones that Touchstone had mended just eighty years before. It had seemed as if Kerrigor would win for thirty years, having pushed the living people of the Old Kingdom back as far as the capital, where the entire Empyre’s army was focused on protecting the Charter stones that were in the Royal Blood, the Abhorsen’s Blood, and the actual physical Charter Stones that were beneath the castle.

Among those that tried to defend the Charter Stones were Sayrael and his son Elrair. After fighting for months, Sayrael’s sword-arm wasn’t as fast as it had been, and one of the Dead took his head from his shoulders. Flying into a terrible rage, Elrair used Charter Magic that he had never learned before, combining the structured power with that of the Coalescence, or Free Magic. The result was the destruction of many of the Dead that were about, and the near death of Elrair himself.

After being confined to a bed for nearly a month, Elrair was ready to go back into battle. There he watched many of his comrades fall, killed by those that had been their own friends and family just hours before. The current Abhorsen couldn’t fight all of the dead that were springing up about the city. All hope was lost, the people believed. Better to die now than to die later, a great number of them figured.

Fortunately, Elrair intervened at the right moment. Wielding the sword that had been used to divide the parts of Orannis, Elrair slew Kerrigor after a long and arduous duel. Celebrated as a hero, Elrail accepted the honorary title of High Captain of the Knights of Ambrosia, and then became an independent adventurer. The next thirty years of his life were spent helping those that couldn’t help themselves, and adventuring with a party that seemed to be made for each other.

Elrair teamed up with many people that shared similar views as himself, and delved into many of the deeper dungeons that were scattered about the land; they even traveled deep into the depths of the Clay’s Great Library, discovering a weeping Astareal at the very bottom. For reasons unknown the group was allowed to keep its life, and for that Elrair is grateful.

His life has just begun.

This is the 9.9 out of 10 version of him. If there are instances where he is called 'Taylor', that's because Taylor was the original name. The world and magic is from the Abhorsen series, adapted by my own personal changes.

[Purple Feather]

Great ^.^

Looking foward to seeing an IC post from you soon.

The rain was, as it is wont to do, falling. Graceful little droplets of simple water fell from the deep grey sky, soaking Damien’s hair and the clothes beneath his armor. With a thought he dried his clothes off and removed the armor, feeling that such was the way to be when one was surrounded by one of the wonders of the world. As always Damien’s thoughts returned to his past life, of all the glory that he had once had. He had been respected once, long ago. Goodness knows, maybe even he was feared a little bit. But not anymore; no, now he was just another face among the Maiar.

Dropping down to the planet that he had been observing, Damien saw that it was largely uninhabited. The mountains were graceful far beneath him, and Damien could see that there was a valley some distance from there. Also there was a woman, who had just finished writing in a journal with what looked like a purple feather. Purple…the color of royalty. Royalty was important back in Yraen, but not nearly as important as some thought. After all, what is royal blood besides the blood of man? It is nothing. The blood does not make a leader, the name does.

Names…there had been many. Some of them were important, some were trivial, and some were shaken down to the very core. After all, with a name a person could be killed, bound, or simply effected by the original Magic, a force that seemed to have been diluted throughout the eons into such bastardized forms. The Coalescence, Arcana, Incarnum; all of these are simple dilutions of what had been a much greater compound. If this substance were to be tapped into…what would happen? Would people die, or be born again into something much greater? Would anything happen at all? Damien wanted to know, and he wanted to know soon.

But, for the moment, he had things to do. For one, the person below him seemed to be interesting. She was…odd. Not beautiful like the Maiar women, not totally ugly like the Dwarvish women…she was simply there, like and unlike a human at the same time. Not that Damien was really interested in her in a sexual manner; he had lost Her, and that was all that would ever matter. She had been elusive as a fox and yet as stable as these mountains…and she had given her life for him. She was a heroine in every since of the word, and yet he couldn’t feel happy for her. She had left him alone, alone for eternity.

There he was again. Living in his past and his own self doubt, while hating himself for doing so. These feelings seemed to be coming to him more and more often, as if he were going senile. “Maybe I am,” he said to himself, hoping that such was not the case. After all, he had some serious business to take care of. Business with the one that held the royal feather. Landing a dozen feet in front of her, Damien conjured up a chair and sat in it immediately. Best to start off with pleasant conversation, Damien believed. And besides, the chair could always be changed into energy. So useful, magic.
“ My name is Damien. Who are you, Writer?”

[Purple Feather]

A droplet of rain water dropped upon her pretty face, sliding hastily across her soft skin and slowing as it came a moment before dripping off her jaw line, as though longing to remain. It had apparently begun to rain a bit, something Lassistaya simply adored. She found it soothing, in a way, to have the sky's tears washed upon her face. Looking upward she could see the clouds slowly moving overhead, sprinkling the water upon the earth.

A soft smile graces her features as she turned her attention back to the scenary, focusing upon the battle that raged far away from here. Her ocean eyes widened slightly and entered some sort of a trance as the details of the battle entered her own vision. Everything seemed to be moving extremely quickly, she couldn't even tell who was who or even how many of them were there. However, soon afterward, her concentration was broken and she was caught quite off guard.

"My name is Damien. Who are you, Writer?”

The voice was unfamiliar, and she turned to look at the man, seeing sitting upon a chair, relaxed and showing no hostile movement. The name didn't exactly ring a bell either, but was her occupation that obvious or did he know something more about her? She remained cautious, but didn't show her intentions to the unknown man.

"Damien? My name is Lassistaya...but you can just call me Lassie, I know it's a bit of a mouthful," Lassie replied, with a friendly smile, her eyes looking straight into his. He was certainly a warrior of some sort. However, he was of another race, this much she could feel. She knew not of what race or if she had even encountered one such as him, but she knew he wasn't any human. The blue aura that engulfed her being seemed to sway slightly, as though a gust of wind had passed by it, although it was unaffectedd by such elements.

"Do you have a specific reasoning for being here or just enjoying the scenary?" She asked him, turning to look back at the valley below, although keeping him in sight at the corner of her eye.

"Oh, I am just enjoying the scenery," Damien said to the Writer. After all, she didn't have to know that he was a multi-universal traveler, did she? Of course, there was always the possibility that she was another battler... Bah. This woman had a power about her, but Damien was sure that he could handle anything and everything that she could throw at him.

So then. Should he make idle conversation, or begin testing this Writer? She had given him her name, after all. That was practically an invitation in this wide Omniverse, for some reason. People could never talk, they were always so busy trying to kill each other. Damien himself had partaken in these battles, sometimes for his own battle lust and other times because he had conflict thrust upon him. Either way they were usually enjoayble...

No. The two of them would talk, until the Writer decided whether or not she should view Damien as a threat. There was no reason that they couldn't have a civil, philisophical conversation.

As all of these thoughts went through his head, Damien only narrowed his eyes and looked across the valley. He could sense that there was conflict about, as the Coalescence had many disturbances. Each and every death made Damien cringe slightly, his eyes narrowing more and more. When a particularly vile death waved across him, Damien was even forced to clench his hand on the chair.

"For...forgive me if I seem a little bit crazy. There is a battle going on, and..." Damien let it stop at that. He had no idea whether or not the Writer knew of the Coalescence, but it was best to test her knowledge anyway. He would also be forced to see if she knew anything of the Omniverse, or of Damien's home planet of Ilradia.

"Now then, Writer. Please, sit, and make conversation. As you can see, I have nothing better to do." He had nothing better to do because he had stopped time around them, so that raindrops were suspended in midair and soundwaves were stopped in their tracks. It wouldn't truly affect the Writer, but Damien wondered if she would even notice.

[Purple Feather]

Oh, I'm just enjoying the scenary," Damien replied, still maintaining a comfortable position in his chair. He too eventually shifted his gaze toward the valley, his eyes narrowing after a few moments. Lassistaya remained silent for a time, still weary of him and watching his every movement, at the corner of her eye. It seemed as though he were puzzled about something; she could see it in his eyes. His eyes continued to shift as though expressing emotion. It were almost as though he were flinching once every so often at the presence of another.

The disturbance had become so great, his hand made a swift movement to clench his chair. Upon this, Lassie quickly turned her head, her caution toward him asserting itself.

"For-forgive me if I seem a little bit crazy. There is a battle going on, and..." The warrior cut himself off there, as though expecting her to finish, but she knew not of his conflict. An expression of sorrow etched her face as he spoke those words, feeling his pain. She wished she could help him, but she was too preoccupied with her own conflicts. It had been waged since the day she was born, restricting her to her own universe for all that time. There are still planets she hasn't visited within her universe. However, she intended to see the rest of the omniverse when the war was over. Hopefully, that day will come soon.

"I'm sorry," Lassie apologized to him, feeling the need to do so, having seen his reactions to the battle being waged upon his home planet. "I suppose we all have our conflicts."

"Now then, Writer, please sit and make conversation. As you can see, I have nothing better to do," Damien replied. It was at that moment that she could feel time itself around their immediate area had ceased. She gazed at a frozen raindrop about to hit the tip of her nose for a moment, before turning her head toward the ground beside her. Lifting her hand up slightly, she gathered a small amount of matter several feet away from her and shaped it into a chair of her own, solidifying it and taking her seat, legs crossed.

"Where is it that you are from, then, Damien?" Lassie inquired, having been made apparent that he was a wielder of some sort of magic. This man began to interest her and she wanted to know more about him.