Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0

    Autumn's Gold

    Champion of the Ss'ruul
    Champion of the Ss'ruul

    Posts : 931
    Join date : 2009-05-07
    Location : Ghosting
    Level : 52

    Character Sheet
    Defense Bar:
    60/60  (60/60)
    Health Bar:
    570/570  (570/570)
    Stamina Bar:
    104/104  (104/104)

    Autumn's Gold

    Post by Arro on Mon Sep 26, 2016 2:35 am

    Time: 10 AM
    Date: 9/30/16

    An agitation of the air, a perturbation of the light, a body emerged from the trees bearing ordered verse into the ambient silence. A hazy red shape accompanied by music contently morose, rising and falling away in the clouds before able to travel far beyond its maker.

    Wanderers this morning came by
    Where did they go
    Graceful in the morning light
    To banner fair
    To follow you softly
    In the cold mountain air

    Arro hummed as he waded through high wild grasses, words occasionally slipping out through teeth in the manner of someone singing only with themselves. Trailing white puffs of breath with each stanza, preparing the grey canvas of cold autumn air as he walked. Summer had only recently died but the weather was quick to take notice, scavenging its remains and bidding it's last lingering bits of flesh to decompose. All it's bounty, all the last of the warm weather's gifts and green colors were breaking. Layers of brown and red leaves were already matted down wet and mixed with the broken blades beneath his feet. These were older leaves, blown from older growth to scatter their ashes on the fledgling forest floor, or impale themselves on sprightly young branches of willow and alder. They flapped and sprinkled moisture like hundreds of beaten old flags as he marched through their vigil, hot on a scent.

    Arro crested a hill topped by a single tree, roots ensnared amid flocks of fallen fruit, and stopped there. White steam blooming around his horned head, collecting and fading as he breathed with a body still as stone.

    Through the forest
    Down to your grave
    Where the birds wait
    And the tall grasses wave...

    He petered off. A magpie croaked, drawing his ears, but his eyes stayed fixated on the unnatural shapes in the valley below. Blocks of worn wooden walls sprouting from the earth, a house, a barn, a garden, and beside them a cropped meadow cut from the tapestry of weedy brush.

    Up the hill rushed the wind, dripping water from the waving boughs across his skull, feeding scent laden air to his nostrils. It delivered an eclectic mixture of smells; decaying matter, fresh growth and old earth soaked to the bones. From beyond the fading mist where it blew crept the rank scent of rotting horse flesh, decay, a farmer's crop and the musty scent of sheep.

    Dear shadow alive and well
    How can the body die you tell...

    Arro cocked his head, the tune still sighing it's way through his mind, calm despite the oddity at having happened across the dwelling of one of the judges. He turned and croaked to the black birds fluttering in the distance, dissuading their fears, and directed his attention to the treat that drew him. Bitter fresh crab apples drowned out the wet earth and he cracked them apart eagerly, savoring the rarity of fruit piercing the monotony of meat. They broke like bone and bled juice like blood, graciously coaxing him to partake of something new by making it feel like something old. The dragon prummed, his quiet singing ending for necessity as he bedded down for a feast in the wet grass. The black birds, convinced by his promises or of their own bravery, returned to the hill and pecked at the fruit he'd broken apart. They'd be his companions for as long as the meal lasted, and he'd get to listen to their chatter and maybe make a few new friends before the food was gone. There were good reasons to love the fall.

      Current date/time is Mon Sep 25, 2017 2:38 pm