09-30-2013, 05:02 PM
Misfortune seemed to hang above Whirda and Nyx like a particularly bad smell. This was something that Nyx had begun to accept since she had first entered the green portal in the clinical abyss otherwise known as The Nexus. However, as her red eyes fluttered open on the other side of the grey stone portal, the blood made found herself questioning whether their luck was changing or not. Though it had been at least a week since Nyx had last tried stepping through a portal, she distinctly remembered being dropped in the middle of nowhere. This time, things were different.
The blood mage realized she was leaning against her Nightsaber, Thanatos. His hulking furry mass rose and fell with every breath, though she soon felt him shudder as he sprawled into a stretch. She leant back against him and looked to Whirda, who slowly regained consciousness beside her beloved steed, Cascade. She stood and patted herself down, checking she still had everything from the transitions. They had passed through both portals (from the Tangled Green to the Nexus, and from the Nexus to the Pale Moors) in record time. Nyx followed suit, and was comforted to learn she still had everything – most importantly, her dagger and her staff were still in her possession.
'What took you so long, Amell?'
Nyx stiffened, her hand instinctively curling around the hilt of her dagger. Who was speaking to her, and more importantly, how did they know her name? In fact, the more the blood mage thought about it, how did she know that was her name? It had been years since anyone had called her anything other than Apprentice, Witch or Nyx. Her surname had not been spoken since she was born. Of that, she was certain. This wasn't Ferelden, either – so how could anyone know?
“Is everything okay?” Whirda asked, brows knitted together.
“I'm fine,” Nyx replied, forcing herself to relax. She did an excellent job of slumping against Thanatos, but she didn't look entirely at ease. “It's just that going through portals is going to take some getting used to, that's all.”
Whirda regarded Nyx suspiciously, but kept quiet and mounted Cascade. Nyx watched her for a moment, almost envying the tangible bond between horse and rider, then climbed onto her Nightsaber's back. When the shock had worn off, both Nyx and Whirda took a look around at their new surroundings.
In many ways, the Pale Moors resembled the Blighted Lands from whence they had came. Everything looked so lifeless and dark. The trees that weren't skeletal in nature were gnarled and decrepit, looming over mossy stone and fallen leaves. No flowers grew, only weeds. The weeds shot from the cracks in the stone in a desperate, if futile plea for light. No natural light shone here. The sky was thick with clouds that blotted out the sun and moon, greatly reducing visibility and enhancing the eerie shadows cast by anything and everything in the vicinity. Someone had clearly tried to make the area more habitable and navigable – lanterns were dotted around the mossy path, leading further into the darkness.
Simply standing in the Pale Moors felt like an emotionally draining experience, akin to witnessing someone's suffering. If that wasn't bad enough, neither Nyx or Whirda could shake the feeling that they were being watched. But by what, or whom?
“There,” Whirda stated, pointing south of the portal. The silhouette of a small townscape on the horizon could clearly be seen, but that was not what had drawn Whirda's attention.
”A town?” Nyx said, in total disbelief. For one, these lands looked far from hospitable; and for another, she could scarcely believe the portal had dropped them somewhere nice. It almost seemed too good to be true. One glance across to Whirda was enough to inform her that she was not alone with that sentiment. ”Maybe they'll be able to tell us where to find the Professor.”
Whirda nodded, urging Cascade forward by gently digging her heels into him. Nyx followed suit. The riders advanced at a steady pace, both equally aware of their surroundings, poised and ready to unsheathe their weapons if necessary. All that could be heard were the sounds of hooves and paws upon damp stone. The beasts bristled whenever the wind whistled through the trees, the riders following suit. Everyone was on edge, and this was a tension that persisted even as they approached the gates to Darkshire.
“Halt!” cried a shadowy figure. Nyx and Whirda exchanged furtive glances as a guard stepped into the light. The lanterns hanging from either side of the gate to Darkshire cast a strange shadow across his face. Even despite the peculiar lighting, it was clear this particular guard was quite youthful – his face lacked the nicks and scars of someone who had seen many battles. However, his expression suggested he carried some kind of heavy burden – his lips were tight and stiff. It seemed unlikely that he could, or would, smile.
“Who goes there?”
The blood mage realized she was leaning against her Nightsaber, Thanatos. His hulking furry mass rose and fell with every breath, though she soon felt him shudder as he sprawled into a stretch. She leant back against him and looked to Whirda, who slowly regained consciousness beside her beloved steed, Cascade. She stood and patted herself down, checking she still had everything from the transitions. They had passed through both portals (from the Tangled Green to the Nexus, and from the Nexus to the Pale Moors) in record time. Nyx followed suit, and was comforted to learn she still had everything – most importantly, her dagger and her staff were still in her possession.
'What took you so long, Amell?'
Nyx stiffened, her hand instinctively curling around the hilt of her dagger. Who was speaking to her, and more importantly, how did they know her name? In fact, the more the blood mage thought about it, how did she know that was her name? It had been years since anyone had called her anything other than Apprentice, Witch or Nyx. Her surname had not been spoken since she was born. Of that, she was certain. This wasn't Ferelden, either – so how could anyone know?
“Is everything okay?” Whirda asked, brows knitted together.
“I'm fine,” Nyx replied, forcing herself to relax. She did an excellent job of slumping against Thanatos, but she didn't look entirely at ease. “It's just that going through portals is going to take some getting used to, that's all.”
Whirda regarded Nyx suspiciously, but kept quiet and mounted Cascade. Nyx watched her for a moment, almost envying the tangible bond between horse and rider, then climbed onto her Nightsaber's back. When the shock had worn off, both Nyx and Whirda took a look around at their new surroundings.
In many ways, the Pale Moors resembled the Blighted Lands from whence they had came. Everything looked so lifeless and dark. The trees that weren't skeletal in nature were gnarled and decrepit, looming over mossy stone and fallen leaves. No flowers grew, only weeds. The weeds shot from the cracks in the stone in a desperate, if futile plea for light. No natural light shone here. The sky was thick with clouds that blotted out the sun and moon, greatly reducing visibility and enhancing the eerie shadows cast by anything and everything in the vicinity. Someone had clearly tried to make the area more habitable and navigable – lanterns were dotted around the mossy path, leading further into the darkness.
Simply standing in the Pale Moors felt like an emotionally draining experience, akin to witnessing someone's suffering. If that wasn't bad enough, neither Nyx or Whirda could shake the feeling that they were being watched. But by what, or whom?
“There,” Whirda stated, pointing south of the portal. The silhouette of a small townscape on the horizon could clearly be seen, but that was not what had drawn Whirda's attention.
”A town?” Nyx said, in total disbelief. For one, these lands looked far from hospitable; and for another, she could scarcely believe the portal had dropped them somewhere nice. It almost seemed too good to be true. One glance across to Whirda was enough to inform her that she was not alone with that sentiment. ”Maybe they'll be able to tell us where to find the Professor.”
Whirda nodded, urging Cascade forward by gently digging her heels into him. Nyx followed suit. The riders advanced at a steady pace, both equally aware of their surroundings, poised and ready to unsheathe their weapons if necessary. All that could be heard were the sounds of hooves and paws upon damp stone. The beasts bristled whenever the wind whistled through the trees, the riders following suit. Everyone was on edge, and this was a tension that persisted even as they approached the gates to Darkshire.
“Halt!” cried a shadowy figure. Nyx and Whirda exchanged furtive glances as a guard stepped into the light. The lanterns hanging from either side of the gate to Darkshire cast a strange shadow across his face. Even despite the peculiar lighting, it was clear this particular guard was quite youthful – his face lacked the nicks and scars of someone who had seen many battles. However, his expression suggested he carried some kind of heavy burden – his lips were tight and stiff. It seemed unlikely that he could, or would, smile.
“Who goes there?”