Re: Obsidian Conference -- Warlord's Game

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Date Posted: 17:52:20 02/14/03 Fri
Author: Zandramas
Subject: Re: Obsidian Conference
In reply to: Zandramas 's message, "Obsidian Conference" on 19:25:23 02/09/03 Sun

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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[> Re: Obsidian Conference -- Pherion, 10:47:44 02/15/03 Sat

His heart beat faster in his chest, his body stauesque in the rain. Slowly Pherion lowered his paw ducking his head down to his chest, all of his ears submisively held tightly to his skull to show he ment no harm. He took a step back now, squishing into the milky brown mud underfoot, stumbling slightly as it gave way from the mitholodical sweep of his legs. Again he froze, the womans eyes making his heart burst and want to just stop all the pain he saw there.

"Begging forgive. No harm to...", he says with a metalic tone in his words. His voice was angelic, stimulating to the mind and the body with how smoothly it melted from his mobile muzzle. As his maw parted the single razor along the top and bottom of his inner mouth could be seen. Only a single long bowed blade of golden metal served as his fangs, but the honed edge look as if it could sever metal.

He lays down, unsure of what to do, his belly soiling with the grounds fixtures and tiny brambles. He closed his eyes a long while, knowing he could leap away if needed...if danger became apparent. But still in this position he left himself vulnerable enough to an attack. He wasnt sure why he stayed, and yet he knew it was right to do so.

Agaion his eyes peered upon the being, a rush of nervousness took him as he heard some one nearby closing in. The steps of another humanoid who bore the cutting metal of weaponry upon them. Even in the rain that clanking sound was something nature couldnt disguise. He rose, standing on his hind legs and began to back away with a fearful look over his maw...

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