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paixaorpg2008-05-09 04:18 pm
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Entry tags:
She Is Lost [Complete]
Character(s): Golden Sparrow, Sin Spawn, Lumen
Content: Golden Sparrow arrives in Paixao!
Setting: Niflheim
Time: Daytime
Warnings: Confusing speech patterns
Content: Golden Sparrow arrives in Paixao!
Setting: Niflheim
Time: Daytime
Warnings: Confusing speech patterns
Golden Sparrow was not pleased, which may seem odd to others who had come as close to death as she had. It could be expected she leap for joy, smile, and, perhaps were she more outgoing, that she hug anyone unfortunate enough to pass near her. However, she only looked around the courtyard with a decided frown, feeling and being extremely out of place among the thriving population of blondes. There was no sense of relief that she had survived the blow which should have killed her, nor any sense of delight and reawakened newness in the world; there was only a decided sense of emptiness and loneliness, of a lack of fulfillment and failure. And confusion.
Most could not or would not give her a plain answer, and that was just fine. The small device (populated by tiny, magical people?) seemed to hold the answers she sought, and, for a while, the so-called journal maintained her attention. It would be inaccurate to say it entertained her, for she felt no feelings of joy or humor; it was an amazing device, true, but, ultimately, the journal was simply a means of gaining information.
And what the journal told her was this:
She was not dead.
Her allies were not here.
Her enemies were not here.
This was not China.
She was lost.
Golden Sparrow settled on a bench to mull over her present situation. Her ever-present pipa slid off her back and into her hands, settling with a practiced and familiar feeling. It was comforting to hold, and to play.
Leaning over the lute-like instrument, she plucked the strings softly, finding a tune for the moment. Once found, the tune lifted from the instrument and drifted with the wind, a sad melody. It calmed her and filled her, and, most importantly, it reminded her of all that she had lost... The Orphan Warrior leaned over the instrument, skillfully coaxing a tune out of its depths. The song nestled itself deep in one's heart, pulling at memories most thought better forgotten. It was a song of loss, and Golden Sparrow wished its notes to Heaven.
Most could not or would not give her a plain answer, and that was just fine. The small device (populated by tiny, magical people?) seemed to hold the answers she sought, and, for a while, the so-called journal maintained her attention. It would be inaccurate to say it entertained her, for she felt no feelings of joy or humor; it was an amazing device, true, but, ultimately, the journal was simply a means of gaining information.
And what the journal told her was this:
She was not dead.
Her allies were not here.
Her enemies were not here.
This was not China.
She was lost.
Golden Sparrow settled on a bench to mull over her present situation. Her ever-present pipa slid off her back and into her hands, settling with a practiced and familiar feeling. It was comforting to hold, and to play.
Leaning over the lute-like instrument, she plucked the strings softly, finding a tune for the moment. Once found, the tune lifted from the instrument and drifted with the wind, a sad melody. It calmed her and filled her, and, most importantly, it reminded her of all that she had lost... The Orphan Warrior leaned over the instrument, skillfully coaxing a tune out of its depths. The song nestled itself deep in one's heart, pulling at memories most thought better forgotten. It was a song of loss, and Golden Sparrow wished its notes to Heaven.
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Familiar things were something that the particular lumen could feel for. The tamafelis weaved between the legs, in and out, of a grouping of natives, rubbing against them, dragon-like wings pulled in around its cat-like body. The only thing making it look a hint of threatening were the spikes curving done its back. But to the natives, the brightly toned creature remained friendly, and when it bounded away, enjoying the fake-daylight, glowing golden eyes peered around and ears perked.
Music. The sad melody. But the being didn't have any resurfaced memories, perhaps a small flutter of emptiness if it lingered too long, but then its body glowered more, and the lumen moved its way over to the source.
It put paws up on the edge of the bench, and curiously, sniffed at the instrument that the girl - certainly another non-native - plucked at.
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The fact that it had led it to another very attractive target was, as far as it was concerned, little more than an added bonus. Killing two was better than killing one, after all.
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"Who are you?" she asked, as though speaking to a strange dog. Gently, she extended a hand towards it. "Are you lost?" Surely, it must have an owner, or someone who played with it and fed it. She glanced up, but all she could see were the queerly empty faces of the strange people who inhabited this land.
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It growled lowly and paced in front of the girl, oddly in a protecting way. Perhaps it had been for the music, but either way, the being stood guard, shaking with fury towards this abomination.
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The Orphan Warrior realized quickly that it was not her that the creature growled at; another, darker thing was moving towards them. And this one didn't look anywhere near as friendly.
Softly, Golden Sparrow stood, carefully laying her pipa on the bench she had abandoned. Her eyes never left the sin scale, however; she was waiting for it to make its move, ready and willing to help her little friend.
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Not long thereafter, it seemed to have come to some sort of decision, launching itself headlong at the Lumen, claws and beak ready to tear into the Lumen if the landed a blow.
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With a grace born of years of training, as well as some natural talent for kung fu, Golden Sparrow leaped. It was only the smallest shift of her body, and she was able to use the bench to launch her into the air.
Her back flip landed her between the two creatures, facing the lumen. But she knew where her enemy stood. Turning, she lifted her foot, just high enough to contact with the sin scale's face. The side of her foot contacted with it with enough force to send an ordinary animal sliding away from its prey.
(OOC: Could I get a description of the thing in your next post? o_O I have no idea what Golden Sparrow is trying to defeat! Therefore, if it's impossible to kick it in the head, just lemme know and I'll fix it!)
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And then it shimmered away, wings taking at the air and relocating its body to the back of the bench, body shaking from the pain of the dark creature. It was painful. It should have just fled completely and left... but... the woman still held its curiosity....
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If the Sinspawn had had vocal cords, it would have growled at the fact the the woman had intercepted its blow. As it was, it didn't so it was unable to do little more that buzz furiously as the blow sent it skidding away from the Lumen. That had been in its prey, the woman had no right to keep it from killing it, even if she was only going to follow in the Lumen's wake.
Well, no harm done, it could always kill her first, buzz settling into a low drone as it launched itself at the woman, claws and beak outstretched and ready to latch on to whatever it could reach.
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Golden Sparrow had only had enough time to settle into a defensive stance. However, kung fu stances were designed much more for defeating people rather than animals, and so Golden Sparrow found herself quickly at a disadvantage. She realized this a fraction too late and moved.
Had the orphan warrior remained in place, the creature likely would have made quick work of her. Her cartwheel to the left, however, resulted in only a noticeable tear in her purple skirt -- and a painful tear in her thigh. It throbbed and oozed perceptibly.
Two cartwheels finished with a flip, accented by the soft sound of metal being freed. Her left hand touched her thigh, and she winced. Oh, it hurt! Her brown eyes flickered back to the creature, and they narrowed in determination as she drew her short sword across her body.
"She WILL kill you," she warned, waiting and watching it for the slightest movement. Up until it had drawn blood, she had been hoping to chase it away; now, however, it seemed she would have to result to a much more permanent solution...
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It watched, eyes locked to the battle, ready to dart out of the way in case the spawn recognized it as prey again, or the woman failed. But maybe it would step in if it came to that. If she was dead, then she couldn't play it more music. How unfortunate that would be...
So the lumen shimmered reassuringly at the woman, as if maybe it would enhance her powers, when really all the lumen did was probably look distracting. Oh well, the lumen didn't know the difference.
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It could and would attack until it died.
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The orphan warrior took careful aim as the beast bounded towards her. Her short sword cut through the air, glittering sharply. It was a deadly weapon, and her swing was true. Clearly, she knew how to use the weapon...
Her thigh throbbed, the pain reverberating up and down her leg as she used it to pivot towards her attacker. She could feel it already stiffening -- the beast's claws had no doubt reduced her leg to shreds...
Rather than swing the sword in an arc, she instead stood ready and aimed the weapon down the gullet of the beast...
(OOC: Left it kind of vague, so that you can decide whether or not she hits it!)
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What probably did come as something of a surprise was the fact that it exploded into multicolored points of lights not long after it died.
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The Orphan Warrior stepped back, looking down at the still thing, more relieved than pleased. When it exploded into light, she stepped back and shielded her eyes; when she opened them again, the creature was gone.
Limping hard, she walked back over to the bench and knelt behind it, cleaning her sword on the strange-colored plants. Once she was satisfied, she returned to the bench and settled down, inhaling sharply.
Even as she delicately lifted the cloth from the wound, she smiled at the lumen. "She wasn't careful enough," she explained, grimacing a little. Yes, the creature had done quite a bit of damage to her leg. The wound was open and bleeding freely, but she could see that the skin around it was already bruising.
Passerbys who cared enough would no doubt have quite a good look at the woman's leg, all the way up the thigh; although, few of good intent could admire the spectacle.