A new friend, Entering the broken forest
| TwilightQueen |
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The forest was watching this intruder. He was not welcome; none of his kind, or any other, were. As soon as one of those boots touched the soil, they knew there was an invader. They knew there was one armed with arrows which mercilessly kill and cold blades which bite deep into flesh, wood and earth alike. And fire. There was always fire to devour freshly cut branches and burn once-living flesh.
He was not welcome here.
Those born of the forest stalked the shadows, watching this stranger with hatred in their blood. They need not speak to each other, for they were one. Each knew what the others were thinking, each knew what they were going to do and when they were going to do it.
They were the Spirits which guarded these woods, the children of the Great Tree which was the mother of this forest. When the mortals of this world turned their axes and fires on her, the Spirits wept. Now, they've swore revenge, and revenge they shall have.
Their skins were like bark, rough and sturdy. Long claws grew from their long fingers and toes. Their eyes were like green stones set in carved wooden faces. They bore no mouths, no noses, for they had no need to breathe or eat. Leaves sprouted among flowers from all parts of their body, creating delightfully manes around their faces. They have no genders, or so it is assumed. Their bodies all look relatively the same: almost like monkies. Their lithe bodies make them skilled climbers and fast, fierce opponents. Were it not for their deadly rage, these would be a lovely, peaceful people. However, blind furry has turned them into deadly monsters.
And now they have set their sites on one of those they despise, two hated knifes in his fists.
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"By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired."~Franz Kafka
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| TwilightQueen |
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Now.
The Spirits seperated themselves from their forest's shadows, turning angry eyes on this stranger. Yes, he had put away his arms, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. They were everywhere, it seemed, their lithe bodies watching from branches above and from the shadows the forest cast all around. Only one stood before him, it's long, clawed hands never remaining still for more than a second. It was as if it couldn't wait to rid the forest of this strange mortal's presence. One of it's kin stood behind the intruder, equally as hungry as the one to his fore.
A third spirit stepped out of the shadows to look at the intruder. It was old, vines wrapped about it's spindly body. It was the spirit born from one of the first trees the forest held, and, unlike the others, it seemed calm.
"Your kind is not welcome here, you know this," it said. It's voice the like of which could never be described. It was neither male nor female, sounding exactly like what an elm tree would, had it a voice. "So why, have you wandered so far into our Forest, bearing your blades?"
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"By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired."~Franz Kafka
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| TwilightQueen |
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Group: Admin
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"Anoutkast," the Spirit said, completely missing the point of what the stranger had said. Well, the begining of it at least. After a few thoughtful strokings of it's leafy, white beard, the Old One turned sharply on it's heels and headed deeper into the woods, towards it's very heart. It gave but one command: "Come."
Some of the spirits lingered where they were, watching for the stranger's reaction. Others vanished into the woods without a sound, each knowing already what their duty was.
The Old One continued to walk, not looking back to see if the stranger would follow. This was a test of sorts.
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"By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired."~Franz Kafka
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| TwilightQueen |
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Administrator
  
Group: Admin
Posts: 173
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Joined: 23-August 05

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A thick tangle of trees and shrubs acted as a gate to a wide clearing. Without pausing, the Old One walked into this tangle, seeming to dissolve into the foliage. Upon entering the clearing, the Old One was no where to be seen. It was as if the spirit had truly vanished.
However, the clearing was not empty. It was a lovely place, really. A grand place of beauty, untouched by all that had tainted the rest of the forest. A crystal stream wound its way though the place, gentle sunlight dancing off the shallow waters as the stream made plesant gurggling noises against the smooth rocks that formed it's bed. Soft moss grew at the little stream's banks, small blue and pink flowers sprouting up here and there. Across the little stream, at the far end of the clearing was a great tree, it's trunk so wide that fifty strong men could not link hands around it's base. Strong limbs reached up to the cloud-spotted sky, as if it was trying to catch one of the fluffy things. Wind danced though its leaves, adding its soft music to that of the stream's. It was an old tree, that was to be certain. In fact, it was the oldest tree in the Broken Forest, the tree which had first set its roots in the soft soil.
And as breattakingly beautiful as this whole sceen was, there was something else that held more captivation that the setting. She sat, nestled in the wide roots of the Oldest Tree, gentle brown eyes watching as a stranger entered her woods. Soft green hair was bound loosely by a strip of coarse linnen, a few wayward strands falling free to frame her gentle, round face. Horns, not unlike branches, spiraled back from her brow, arching ever so slightly downward. Her pale skin was hued such a soft green it was hard to tell she wasn't white. Wrapped loosely around her slender, beautiful form was simple linnen, the same that bound her hair. The cloth hardly covered what it was meant to, but she didn't seem to care. Somehow, it didn't seem indecent, it just seemed... right. She stood, gracefully coming to stand just inches from the stream's water's. Her ankles lead not to feet, but to almond-colored hooves. She extended a small hand to the stranger. She said nothing, but simply watched him with her wide, captivating, brown eyes.
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"By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired."~Franz Kafka
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