Re: Obsidian Conference -- Warlord's Game

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Date Posted: 22:42:48 02/17/03 Mon
Author: Pherion
Subject:

Re: Obsidian Conference
In reply to: Zandramas 's message, "Obsidian Conference" on 19:25:23 02/09/03 Sun

Slowly the being opens his eyes, barely able to crawl and exausted in a half slumber from his devious sprint across the woods. He saw the woman there, unsure of how she found him but realizing then his time was up. He raises his paw, wanting so badly to touch her high cheek bones one, allowing his warmth within the touch of the minute and invisible hairs of her skin to bristle in its presence. How kind his glowing eyes looked, how sadly the shown his wordless losses and regrets.

"Kill like flight, take body fast much pain no want.", he says. His hand fell limply, followed buy his arm to his side. The golden form slowly curled into a ball along side of the river where his eyes could peer upon the dancing reflection over the crystaline waves.

"I know flesh-hunter like gold color, I know it take from me in great pain. What name are you?"

His gaze follows the shimmering reflection to Zaddy's form there in the aqua, watchin her moves lethargicly as if he were drugged.

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[> Re: Obsidian Conference -- Zandramas, 09:08:13 02/18/03 Tue

Zandramas watches this peculiar little creature with quiet fascination, reaching behind her neck to untie her scarf and do something she'd not done in daylight for years. As it falls away, it reveals a purely symmetrical face, smoothly lined and almost angularly built. Although her beauty is unflawed in every physical way, the sorrow storing itself in every line, every deft curve in her face gives her a personal accent, the straight blue black locks now tumbling down the side of her face also, contrasting against pale skin. Already the pale touch of age is reaching her, revealed in the turning blue of her eyes. They are barely seen as blue and could still be mistaken for black, but the touch is there. A way of aging that most humans didn't have that she still kept from her kind of Dragon.

"Zandramas," She replied, still keeping herself to herself, still apprehensive of any touch to her. "I'm hunted for something different. Who are you?"

Zandramas then unbuckled her belt and tossed it over to where her horse was, before rising, remiving her thick leather and metal gauntlets, the mail shirt and the chainmail. Underneath are simple garments made of felt, in some kind of even more strict uniform. She sits again, the felt fitting like a second skin. Her bluish black eyes revert to looking at him, tracing the golden contours of his body with a slightly awed look. She had seen gold before, but never in such a brilliant colour.

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[> [> Re: Obsidian Conference -- Pherion, 01:06:56 02/19/03 Wed

Pherion ascends cautiously to his hind legs, towering over the lithe form of Zaddy. He was in no wy a diminutive being nor was he a sheltered brooder to be put to down poured eyes. He is a force of nature, a wild hunter feedin off of the life of anything he kills. Claws, hoohed and pointed with the same glint of golden hues that covered his scales were his primary weaponry. His fangs incased in a hard muscular muzzle were his second form of rending prey apart.

His eyes showed no trust or understanding of beauty, their hollow pupiless sheen reflecting the light through it like an indigo prisim pierced coldly upon the face of the woman there. Pherion steps back, his amrs held low with claw bore wide in a display that ment to keep distance between him.

"Pherion is name...go from me. No hunt this day..." The Aruvmorax knew he could not sprint as fast as he did prior, still exausted from the trip, but he was capible of defending himself with a barage of failing razors should the need arise.

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