Re: Obsidian Conference -- Warlord's Game

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Date Posted: 17:00:38 02/14/03 Fri
Author: Pherion
Subject: Re: Obsidian Conference
In reply to: Zandramas 's message, "Obsidian Conference" on 19:25:23 02/09/03 Sun

The golden beast stalked ambiently through the rain, upright with a hunched and drooping posture. How he hated the cold wet of spring, it stagnant clinging bitterness to winter making his lathargic rather quickly in the morning hours. Soft noises uttered through the woodline, huffing weezing sound that somehow deepened his mood.

Following the tones twards a clifside he could hear the fammiliar neigh of equines, his head bobbing up and down as it peered from behind a large oak stumb sundered by termite holes. There was a thick moss upon its side, absorbed in the liquid of the downpour made his hand-paws squish as he griped around its base. There were to of his favored prey there, but something stood out. Leather straps and studs upon their body awoke him to the fact they were the riding beasts used by man creatures. And that pulled him back slowly with a warented fear within.

The soft muffled sound pattered again to his twin sets of ears, his eyes turning a bit down to look under the pair of horse to see a humanoid draped in cloth kneeling in the mud. His worry turned to depression, empathic to the beings troubles somehow. But she was a man-creature, he thought to himself. A being that he knew hunted him for his pelt.

Taking a chance he moved closer, the equines stamping and neighing lightly as they parted for him to move between them. It masked his movments in the rain, the sound drowning like his wetted fur and shimmering scales. He was only afew feet from the creature.

"It looks so helpless, hurt. I wonder if it was wounded.", he thought, raising an outstreched paw to touch the woman.

"No...something isnt right...this must be dangerous!", he percieved again, making a soft grunt and swatting his long tail into a puddle when he lost his ballance out of nervousness. The sound was obvious, his beautiful spectral eyes widening as he froze in place only afew feet from the woman.

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[> Re: Obsidian Conference -- Zandramas, 17:52:20 02/14/03 Fri

Zandramas's initial reaction is to recoil from Pherion, with a small little sound of surprise that's barely audible. She places one leather-gloved hand on the head of one of the gravestones, before the other lands on the floor and holds her body away from muddying itself on the floor. She gazes wide-eyed at the creature, all her sorrow and grief still there, but with a tinge of fear. Although Pherion is apprehensive of her, she is very nearly afraid of him. In surprise she returns to kneeling, keeping herself very still and without much movement that might startle him. Her mind is unsure as to whether to regard him as feral or not, but she merely does what she'd do if she came across a Dragon of her own kind, stay still and don't make any sudden movements that might make it think she could or might want to hurt it. After a few moments she glances directly into it's eyes, her whole world of lost hope, rendered love and incapacitating pain tumbling over each other in the turbulent waves in her orbs. Her scarf sticks to her cheeks as the rain continues falling, slicking her leather and studded clothing with drenching water. Her hair hangs loosely down her face, thickly lashed eyes simply watching and waiting. She wonders just what he wants...and what he is...before her ehad turns sharply to one of the watchtowers further down the hill. A beacon had been lit. Her glance then returned to Pherion, unsure whether to stay or to go and help her people fend off whatever they were being attacked by...

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