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Lothex88

My characters and their deeds.

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About almost two weeks ago, a petite, young, but apparently very much frail girl arrived on the Doldrums.
Immediately, she looks completely shattered, and hopelessly confused.
Was she already in that condition before coming to the Doldrums, or is the new predicament she suddenly finds herself caught into, that shattered her?
Both, perhaps?

She looks around, her eyes desperately seeking for an anchor, something that will feel reassuring, something known, something familiar.
Something that might - even remotely, even for a mere, fleeting second, even if it meant grasping at straws - be reminiscent of her home.

But she finds no such thing.
All she finds, is a bunch of people, in what seems to be a Port, still - quite clearly - undergoing construction.

After what seems to be minutes upon minutes of hesitation and eyes darting all over the place, frantically, she musters all the courage she has.
She has decided - she will take her first step into this new, unknown camp.
Her little foot trembles, as she walks past that little, invisible threshold.
She is in.
No time to look back now.
No matter how much the body is struggling to get as far away as possible from all of this.
No matter how much she desperately wants to believe it is all a dream, that she will wake up soon, that she will see her home once again, very soon.
As she struggles forward, and fights the almost magnetic repulsion she feels coming from the camp, her heartbeat starts speeding up.
Thump, thump, thump.
Thump thump thump thump thump.
She blinks multiple times, in confusion.
Her pretty, small forehead starting to shine under the moonlight, as the sweat makes its way through her skin-pores.

But a few more steps, and she managed to regain a vague sense of self-composure.
At least, enough for her visage to show a mixture of surprise and concern.

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Finally, she manages to whisper, with bated breath and a very apparent crack in her voice, her first few words.
She wonders where she is.
She asks, but she clearly is not ready to take the red pill - the answer will go through her ears, but it will never actually reach her.


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An hour goes by - a seemingly never-ending hour - and she finds herself clinging to the few females she was able to spot.

The eventually go on a gathering trip, and she decides to join them.
She doesn't really seem comfortable around men, and isn't afraid of disclosing her thoughts on them.

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As she starts speaking, her hand starts, without any conscious directive, wafting towards her roll neck, idly fidgeting with it, almost in self-assurance.

But, perhaps, there is more than meets the eye, there is more meaning hidden within that gesture.
Perhaps, there is a secret carefully hidden beneath that thick layer of clothing, buried.
A fragment of her past, perhaps.
Perhaps.

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A few hours later, she is finally ready to catch her first glimpse of what is called "Silver-Eye".


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The wooden pier creaks, as the stiff movements of her legs announce her arrival.
Such creaking being quite the apt, accompanying sound, for the hesitation and worry flowing through the movements of her body.
Almost hilariously so.

She is immediately faced with another, harsh truth.
The camp she thought might have been, at least, somewhat, safe, actually isn't.
It was recently attacked by trolls, and by a warlock named Rubinne.

This is too much for her to bear, now.
She is completely shattered.
She starts thinking about ending it right then and there, she starts thinking that such a solution might be all she has left.
She starts desperately thinking that, perhaps, if she ends it now, if she can muster that courage, she will find out it was just a dream, a bad one.
A nightmare.
That she will wake up, once again, back to her familiar life.

But is that place, the place she desperately seeks to go back to, actually any better?
Was her life before all this actually any better?

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Her words seem to throw the shade of doubt on the conclusion that her life had been an idyllic painting, up to that point.
On the contrary.

Does she want to go back to such a life, albeit not any better, just because it is at least familiar, then?
Nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction, instinctive and unconscious, to the predicament she is currently facing, to the complete absence of familiarity in such a place?
Perhaps.

As she starts worrying about her safety, feeling more and more stranded in the middle of nowhere, Cyran decides to pull her in a hug, hoping the warmth of such a hug will warm her heart, and give her some strength to fight back.

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The tauren, for some reason, seems to be very much the opposite of what meets the eye.
At least, when talking to her.
She finds herself somewhat enthralled by the gentle demeanor of such a big, hairy, horny horned giant.

Soon, he offers her a small, beautiful flower.
Just smelling its fragrance and savouring it is enough to give her some strength.
She is feeling much better, already, at least for now.
She twirls the stem in her small hands, letting out, finally, a small smile.
She promises the tauren she will fight back.
She tries, at least.

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It's time to head back to the port, though.
Cyran ruffles her hair, instantly making her snap out of her dream-land.
The dream-land the gentle giant gifted her, through the sweet fragrance of that flower.

She pins it on her hair, decided to make an anchor out of it, an anchor that will remind her of the beauty of life.

A sweet fragrance, albeit fleeting.
The quiet strength of a fragile flower, the secret to its magnificient beauty.

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Once they are back at the camp, it's finally time to have more sweetness: some Gumbo!

She twirls the stem of the flower in her hand once more, as if preparing herself, making her entire soul sweet and receptive to the food she will soon be offered.
Ready to taste and savour every last bit of it, like she had done with the fragrance of the flower.
Ready to get some more strength, by taking another brief, extemporaneous, foray into the land of pleasure.

The only anchor she could find amidst such a chaotic development.
The only that could still give her some strength to fight back.


Cyran offers to lead her to a beautiful place, so that she can just, finally, relax, and chill, leaving all her worries behind.
Having earned her trust, she decides to follow her.

The trip to the place gives finally way to a less tense mood, so much that it actually causes Zanna to giggle, and crack what might be considered a joke.

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They soon reach the place, and it's beautiful.
The sound of the sea waves soon completely relaxes the exhaust girl.
She has to lay down.
She can finally rest, after all she had gone through.
Especially the struggle within, against herself.


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The quiet, calm, atmosphere - almost seemingly frozen in time - is somewhat shattered, by the sudden screaming of a seagull, which decided to land on the rock before their eyes.

The bird seems very noisy, almost as if screaming in self-celebration, as he snatches a fish first, and subsequently cracks a clam on the rock.
The end of one life, the reinvigoration of another.
The cycle of life.


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Almost two hours go by, and they are ready to go back.
On the way back, they are faced with a hard jump.
It is here, that something starts looking off, in the way she jumps.


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It may be that there is more than meets the eye, to this young, frail girl.

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About eleven days ago, Rey'ral was spotted on Opej'Nor, for a brief moment.
Being quite skilled in the arts of stealth and quite at home in the wild, he soon disappeared into the Jungle.
All that was left of him, was the note he left close to Friandir's camp, despite the fact that he probably had to struggle to even get close to the magical barrier surrounding the camp.
In that letter, he asked Friandir to tell those he deemed important that he would have come to explain his current situation, and why he disappeared - to talk about the rumours about him.
What was left unwritten was, perhaps, the fact that he might have just wanted to see his friends, one last time.

The day after, on his way to Opej'Nor, he met his long-time, one-eyed friend - Loshander.

The elf reacted with surprise, but soon let his heart lead the way - as he always did.
He started asking questions, trying to understand what happened, and why Rey'ral, someone apparently so stubborn and who seemed like he would have never bent the knee to anyone, had decided to do so, why he joined Talthren.

Rey'ral couldn't say much, having taken a blood pact, but he managed to convey to him the essence of his current predicament.
As usual, it turns out, he did something silly and this time found himself stumbling on something which would end up ensnaring him.
His soul.

Nothing to be taken lightly.
But not for the ancient elf.
As usual, he just didn't seem to realize how serious - and possibly atrocious - his current predicament was.
And it could have taken a turn for the worse.
Any minute.

He explained to Loshander how he simply had a laugh, smiled, and walked through that hell, having decided a long time ago not to let anything ever move him, one way or the other.
He just embraced his current predicament, instead of running away from it, and decided to use it to his own advantage.
Or, perhaps, just as something new to explore, a new toy to play with.
A new, thrilling experience, offering the thrill of death, and possibly worse fates.

Or, perhaps, he had just given up on life a long time ago, and he had been acting suicidal all along, having already lived too much.

As usual, when trying to figure out Rey'ral, it wasn't apparent.
He had always been completely wild.
Almost nonsensical.
Almost insane.

Who knows what the ancient elf might had gone through, in his long, long life, and what shaped him.
His life was just beyond the comprehension of even his own kin, him being so different from them.
If not even his kind was able to actually figure him out, there was just no hope any younger lived race could have even began to understand what he had gone through, what he had seen, why such an ancient elf became so outlandish in his demeanor.

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A few minutes later, they found themselves on Opej'Nor.

Rey'ral went, once again, into the jungle, getting ready for the upcoming meeting he had told Friandir and now Loshander about.
He would carefully and keenly monitor the camp, with his excellent sense of vision, and decide the right moment to reveal his presence to them.

Another day went by, and he decided to reveal his presence in the jungle, to pave the way towards the meeting.
It was time.

He let a dwarf spot him, knowing he would have come back with the others, then soon after vanished, once again, in the jungle.

As he expected, soon after the dwarf was back, with a search party.
They started looking for him, in the jungle, looking in all kinds of places, as he kept watching them.
All he wanted was to just prepare them, psychologically, for the encounter, to make his sudden appearance not something they would have a knee-jerk reaction to, but rather something they were expecting.
Ready to face it at the best of their objective judgement.
It was a very intense situation - it was a Demon coming to talk with them.

He knew the risks involved, he knew he was placing his fate in their hands, with such meeting, for almost no reason.
He could have just gone his way, kept working silently, without meeting them to explain anything.

But, for some reason, he decided to do this.
It isn't clear whether or not it was just for the sheer thrill of it, or because he just wanted to see his friends, one last time.

Soon after the search party gives up, another bold - or perhaps just stupid - dwarf came looking for him.
His name was Throlgrim Windbelly.
An apt name - for he had quite the loud laughter, sonorously reverberating throughout his big belly, further enhancing its volume.
The dwarf wasn't much of a paladin, although he claimed to be one, nor was he the sharpest tool in the box.
He often seemed more like an hilarious caricature of a paladin, rather than an actual one.
For he was often the one who ended up screwing something, in hilarious ways.
A goofball blessed by the Light - apparently - since he managed to survive about thirty years of mishaps caused to himself.

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About one minute after he got close to a particularly big tree, he found himself pounced on, with fe(l)ral, raw power: it was Rey'ral.
He immediately placed his big hand on the dwarf's mouth, and quickly proceeded to tell him he would have to tell the others that Rey'ral was coming.
That he had no hostile intentions, that he just wanted to meet his friends and explain his current predicament.
To confirm the rumours and talk about the truth of what happened, to reassure the friends who were wondering, or perhaps worrying, about him, about what his fate had been.

The dwarf struggled as hard as he could, but he was simply no match for Rey'ral's raw power.
Soon after Rey'ral released his grip, he jumped off from him, in quite the acrobatic display of dexterity.
The dwarf tried to desperately hit him, by instinct, swinging his big hammer all around the place, perhaps somewhat terrified by what had just happened.

But it was to no avail, as Rey'ral just seemed to disappear amidst the swinging chaos the dwarf had created.

By the time he stopped, Rey'ral had vanished.

The dwarf, still somewhat trembling for the sudden release of adrenaline and the unexpected, possibly fatal event, decided to return to the camp, and do as instructed - if anything, to at least hunt him down.
He seemed to realize, though, that Rey'ral actually had no hostile intentions, as he let him go without a scratch.
But that was deep down.
On the surface, the dwarf was just trembling, wanting to just smash the demon's head - whether he had been nice or not.
The fight or flight reaction was taking place within his body, there was no way he could have been objective enough to fully realize the Demon meant no actual harm.

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Minutes after, Rey'ral appeared, right at the gate.

A strong, fel aura could be perceived, as he approached the Port.
As he reached the gate, and he became clearly visible, under the moonlight, there was no more doubt.
He was on his way towards becoming a Demon.
Nevertheless, his outside demeanor didn't seem to match such fel aura.
He seemed calm, cool and collected, smiling as usual - nothing seemed to have changed on the inside.
Or, at least, it was not immediately apparent.

He was asked by Jarreth - the mayor of the town/port, to stay outside, to avoid corrupting his town by stepping in.
Rey'ral complied, and took them to where the old, now abandoned, and stripped to the bone, Adventurer's Guild camp was.

He sat down, calmly, despite the look of disgust he could clearly see etched on many of those people's faces.

Although he seemed definitely more composed and somewhat colder, he soon started laughing.
But, quite clearly, his laughter didn't have the same warmth it used to have.

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He explained what his intentions were, and what his current fate was projected to be.
He explained how he simply embraced this, and decided to make the most of it.
To find a way out of the doldrums and learn more, perhaps.
To walk through hell with a smile, enduring everything he would have to face, for the sake of freeing his friends from the Doldrums, to make it possible for them to go home.

Perhaps he just didn't care because he had already lived long enough.
Or, perhaps, every single word was a lie.

There was definitely a good amount of people, among them, who just couldn't be reached by his words - who just wanted to cut him down, suspecting the meeting of being some kind of trick the Legion was playing on them.

The only ones who seemed to be on his side, at least to allow him to leave unscathed, were the ones who had known him before all of this.
His friends.

The meeting lasted about one hour, every second seemingly resounding like a bell toll.
Each second he kept being there, could have been the last for him.

Despite all this, he made a point of stating quite clearly he had no intention of begging for anything.

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The discussion about whether or not he should be put down was heated, and long.
It ultimately climaxed, as everyone was asked for his vote - should he be put down right then and there, on the spot?

The votation resulted in a tie.

The meeting ended, as he was given the ultimatum "Run, run fast. Do not come back here, ever again.".

This was the time for him to bid his farewells to his friends.

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Soon after his farewells, he sprinted away.
A few seconds, and he once again vanished into the jungle.



To this day, nobody has ever heard from him again.
What happened to him remains shrouded in a veil of mystery.

Edited by Lothex88
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