[m] [p] death is an angel and death is our god

Machidael Lykoi · 08-23-2012, 10:08 PM

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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Setting	Location	Form	NPCs
Location: Blackmoor Castle Date: 28 Aug* (Foredated) Weather: Overcast, foggy Time: Early evening			random wolf thing

626

Machidael is by Nat!

The last several days had been spent within the great expanse of this stone building. Verenna had made herself and Machidael comfortable in one of its many vast rooms, and together they slept on a sagging old bed which had actually collapsed on their second night, albeit not due to sleep. Machidael was steadily growing irritated with the tawny woman's presence, but she had at least two redeeming factors. She was rambunctious in bed, and she did disappear for whole days at a time. Machidael did not know where she went and did not particularly care, for her absences provided a respite from her incessant chatter. Even then, the rust-streaked jackal perhaps understood her voice had helped aid his comprehension. The rapid clip of her speech, especially, had been a boon where this was concerned, but Machidael was willing to overlook that helpful quality of Verenna in favor of concentrating on the ways she irritated him. There was much he might grow irritated with in the world, after all. His wounds, though mostly healed, showed plainly. One nipple was disfigured, the other still pierced through. His leg, too, was still stiff and ached awfully if he walked too much. Hence his present location.

At the very least, amongst this great stone building there were wonderful little trinkets. Shuffling in his awkward half-limp around the long halls, Machidael had discovered a wooden chest. Therein, there were many old and disintegrating scraps of paper -- uselessness. But buried beneath all the paper, he'd discovered a hidden latch, and after prying it open, Machidael was delighted to find a collection of shining gold, encrusted with a layer of fine paper dust. Most of it was useless -- the coinage could buy nothing, not that Machidael understood what the shining pieces were for. He cared only for the crown -- it was false gold, of course, not even plated with the real stuff, but Machi did not know the difference. Most of what he wore, anyway, was a gold alloy rather than the real thing, in any case. Setting the thing on his head while he wandered the empty halls, Machi soon made a meal of a pair of rats, though a meager meal it was -- and he'd nearly lost the crown from atop his head in the effort of snaring the second.

The longest room at the center of the castle had a raised part of the floor, and on that part of the floor were two immense, foreboding seats. Their stone was carved into the fantastic shapes of some fantastical creature Machidael did not recognize. He sat himself in the leftmost, leaning a leg rudely over the other chair. Dangling it there, he bounced the leg up and down a few times, glowering toward the end of the hall. He suddenly wanted Verenna back, if only so he could toss her on the floor and have her in the echoing immensity of the great room. Annoyed with the desire for company, he sat up and was about to make for the room where they were squatting with the distinctive echo of footsteps caught his attention. Perking up in his chair, Machidael wondered for a moment if he'd summoned his woman by will of thought alone -- a suitable task for a god, after all -- and stared toward the direction of the noise.

The magnificent creature to burst through the stone archway, however, was decidedly not Verenna. Machidael watched with mounting curiosity as the dark-hued wolf threw himself down the steps, stumbling over a raised stone. Falling flat out on his belly, the canine gave a low groan. His breath was coming in heavy pants, and Machidael realized he'd been running from something. But what?

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