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


    City of Lizards, City of Fortune

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    Mortis
    Petabyte

    Petabyte

    Posts : 900
    Join date : 2014-03-22
    Location : Deadworld
    Level : 60

    Character Sheet
    Defense Bar:
    65/65  (65/65)
    Health Bar:
    650/650  (650/650)
    Stamina Bar:
    120/120  (120/120)

    City of Lizards, City of Fortune

    Post by Mortis on Sun Dec 11, 2016 6:09 am

    Time: ???
    Date: October 28, 0007

    In the morning, the city was just as lively as it had been during the night he had returned. Hundreds of scaly feet clapping against paved streets, a constant drone of the lizard-people’s hissing, clicking speech as they went about their day. Her single remaining ear flicked in a furtive attempt to keep track of all the activity as she lead Angemort along. Clucking, hissing tongues were a mere whisper compared to the deafening din of the citizens’ appearances. Glistening alloys and jewels complimented their vibrant scales. Bright flowery reds, shades of heavenly azure and lush leafy greens crowded the streets in a dazzling horde that threatened to overwhelm the senses of both the undead mare and her rider. Averting their gaze to the buildings did little to ease the dizzying bombardment of color and sound, as their affinity for fine metals was reflected with mirror-like quality in their architecture. Polished bright stone and metal shimmered brilliantly in the sun, and refused to surrender their warm glow in the cloudier days.

    Several days passed by with startling haste, and several pages of stationary were devoured by Mortis’ ever scribbling pen. Each day was cataloged in as much detail as the undead could fit onto the paper, each one seeming to grow an inch too short with every passing day among the hustle and bustle. The itch to draw out the old Polaroid camera nagged nervously in his fingers, yet hesitated at the knowledge that these people likely had never seen such a device in their lives, and he lacked the ability to predict their reactions to its functions. Perhaps they would think it a miracle, or a soul-stealing twisted fetish of witchcraft. He decided it prudent to snap some photos when given the opportunity to be hidden from curious eyes. Black ink labeled the bottom of the pictures in the block of white acid-treated paper below in clear, quick strokes. The bustling market, the grand and lustrous altar from where he could see it from the first bottom steps as the undead dared not ascend it as a mere visitor, the warlords hall –albeit from the outside-, and other areas within the sprawling jungle metropolis were literally spelled out for his brother’s family in Portal City. Each was carefully slipped into each envelope, addressed to Fear’s family, alongside a date from when it had been written.

    October 22nd, October 23rd, October 24th, October 25th… The line of dates went on until the undead reached the present day of the 28th.

    Within the comparative comfort of his temporary room at an inn, the undead superfiend was hunched upon the floor, his long spider-like limbs curled around a simple stone table in a loose embrace. Upon the smooth, pale surface –which by now the undead suspected to be a sort of marble- was his latest letter in its unfinished stages. Sprawled out next to him was Woolie, who had decided to take an afternoon snooze. Her slender legs stretched out into the golden sliver of sunlight that managed to peek through the woven curtains, every so often the undead glanced over as a momentary shift in her dreams caused a hoof to twitch in reflex. Yet, nothing in her dreamscape ever grew so active that she moved her head from where it rested against the outside of his skeletal thigh, or that her eyes looked as if they were squeezing themselves shut. So far, all was peaceful. Likely it was a pleasant dream about frolicking in the meadow with Angemort.

    Dark ink curved gracefully in smooth strokes and sharp strikes, every word carefully picked and plotted:

    …My brother and neice, it isss the ssseventh day I have sstayed in thisss metropolis and it ssstill feelsss ass alien and new ass the firssst. I hope my photosss elaborate where my words fail to dessscribe thisss glissstening place and itsss denizensss, and that each documentation of my travelsss have made it to you sssafely. I trussst Ombre to carry the mail to and from your home in the city with the greatessst aptitude, but I cannot account for what ssetbacksss he may encounter in the ssspace between there and here. Ssso far I have not noticed a feather out of place upon the condor or even a ssingle fray in the ssstitching of hisss mail pack however, and ssso I ssshall asssume all isss well for the moment.

    He paused in his dictation to look back at the bird in particular, which had chosen to rest upon the bed. His massive wings were tucked close to his body, and his impressive form fluffed itself until it grew reminiscent of the intricate headdresses that waved with such volume upon the scaly heads of a few choice citizens of this strange city.

    After, his pen returned to the paper and scratched his thoughts upon it again…

    I have found it difficult to ssstay in the city ssstreetsss for very long, ass the vibrance and lussster isss ssso alien and overwhelming. Thisss isss likely why my knowledge isss ssso limited, but perhapsss in future tripsss I will be able to acclimate myssself more readily to the sssheer grosss wealth that the city conssstantly hasss on disssplay. They even have preciousss metalsss in their roadsss, I do not know how the citizensss can commute without having to avert their eyesss during a clear, sssunny day like thisss one. The ssscalesss of thesssse creaturesss provide little reprieve, the roadsss sswim with color, I would not be sssurprisssed if a lesser mind found themssselves hypnotized and dissstracted by the lizard people asss they went about their day. If their ssscalesss are not dazzling enough, they alssso wear fine metals and preciousss ssstoness. I sssee them upon nearly every citizen here, only the ssslumsss ssseem to be lacking of their abundance. It isss tempting to ssseek the poorer quartersss to ssspare my eyesss of all the reflectionsss and glistening stones, if not for the possible threat of them housssing the less sssavory examplesss of their kind within the ssstreetsss, ass you and I would expect of the ghettosss of Portal City’sss outssskirtss. I would like to end thisss month-long trip on a posssitive note inssstead of a robbery.

    Even ssso, my brother, I would sssuggessst you bring Livewire to the city sssometime, if you have not done ssso in the passst already. The marketsss have many different clothesss and trinketsss that would sssuit her penchant for vibrant colorsss. A number of artisssansss even create wares with catsss incorporated into them, although I would ssssooner believe they take inssspiration from jaguars and tigersss that roam the junglesss than meager houssecatsss, asss preciousss a houssepet ass they are.

    While I have been unable to capture sssome of the sssightsss myssself on film, sssuch ass the altar and the decorated hall that loomsss over the city, where the warlord resssidess, I hope to be able to sssee thessse placesss when I return next fall, or perhapsss in the winter. In the meantime, it hasss grown tempting to bring back sssampless of the food. Much of it catchesss Woolie’sss attention with itsss fragrance, but I fear it may ssspoil or losse its flavor ssshould I attempt to pressserve it for the trip home. Perhapss I could sscan their minds for the recipesss, but I refrain from doing ssso lesst I tempt your dissspleasssure at my methodsss. I wisssh to bring back sssomething from thisss city, but I am uncertain asss to what exactly would be a fitting gift for you three. Perhapsss before I begin my return I ssshall dissscover sssomething you all could enjoy.

    Hopefully thessse lettersss have been insssightful ass to what I find in my travelsss. The ssstationary isss growing ssscarce asss I write of each day in thisss city, but I feel it a worthwhile ussse, compared to documenting my travelsss in the junglesss to sssuch detail. I figure it would grow too tedioussss if I told you of every tree, flower, and monkey I came acrosss, and ssso I prefer to tell you of my highlightsss insstead. Here, every day may asss well be a highlight with how different it iss from home.

    Thisss ssshall be my last letter to you from me while I am down here. Next week I will make arrangementsss to begin my journey home, I ssshall be returning in time for Fear’sss birthday, if I remember it correctly.

    I give you and your family my love, Livewire, and hope you and Fear are enjoying your living formsss. Even during my journey and all the wondersss I have found, I misss you all immensssely and there isss not a day that passess down here that I fail to think of you.

    With Love,

    Mortisss


    There was a hollow click as the lid was replaced upon the pen and the instrument was placed aside on the stone table, the plastic clattering slightly as it rolled a little towards its smooth, rounded edge. Mortis’ empty sockets settled upon the envelope that was sitting open next to the now finished letter, the top flap waiting open like a hungry mouth. Although the inside of the room was shaded from the sun, the name Livewire could be seen written in dark ink upon its surface through the underside of the paper.

    A little further away was a neat pile sitting near the far edge of the rounded surface, all of them envelopes, addressed to the same femme-turned-girl, their backs turned upward in a way that made it easy for them to be organized. The most recent date, the 27th, sat at the very top with its date written in the same clear, crisp writing that marked it as Mortis’. There was a quiet trill from the bed, as Ombre looked up from where he sat with his feathers puffed contentedly. All of those were for him to carry he knew, his master had made his job for their group during this trip quite clear. Bright yellow eyes watched inquisitively as the sheep-skulled undead slipped the photos he had taken earlier in the day inside the envelope first. His beaked head cocked itself to the side, he did not know exactly why his master did so, but it was a habit that was steadily nursed.

    Mortis, as silent as he tended to be towards the bird, never elaborated or seemed to acknowledge his curious thoughts either. The ghoul did not think it a necessary thing, to humor the idle curiosities of birds. Ombre had no need to know the finer points of writing letters, like waiting for the ink to dry completely before folding it so the ink did not smudge. There was only one thing that the massive condor needed to know about the stack of envelopes:

    ”Come tomorrow you ssshall be delivering thessse out. After they reach my brother’sss houssse, you may return to the barn where I ssshall meet you.” He graveled to the messenger, who craned his head up as if to hear him better. Other than a flex of his broad wings, the bird made little noise or motion of reply, but the message was received clearly enough.

    Tomorrow he flew, and beyond that, it was time to return home.




    ((On October 31st, Livewire, Fear and Kev will be getting seven letters at once from Mortis about his stay in Tz’tchotlan))

      Current date/time is Mon Aug 21, 2017 9:48 pm