Nikia O'Neill: She'd slept there all night, where the shimmering black had left her. But she'd woken eventually, and made her way to the water's edge. Her feet were bare, and grimy, bleeding dirt into the water they rested in, she smelled of fires, smoke and burnt flesh. Her head was currently resting in her hands. Everything about her seemed to have this defeated look.
Arthour Of Talon rest: :Some ways off from Nikia, the Nexus was doing it's thing. It warped and contorted around a single figure, shifted and collapsed a part of space/time and with a loud pop in sub-space and the Aether, it threw out into this world....Arthour. It looked like him, smelt like him, it even shook it's head and blinked around in a slightly dazed fashion like him. But...There were certain....Things. Call it a felling, but...This didn't *feel* like Art.
Nikia O'Neill: It was the loud pop that drew the attention of those amber green hues. Her first initial reaction, when she spotted him, was A wave. Then she stopped mid wave and frowned. SHe didn't understand why, or how, but something seemed off with this person. Slowly, she got to her feet, and stretched, not letting her eyes stray from him the whole time she did so.
Icer1978: ::Momma had been tired of resting in bed. Soon the little dragon appeared from the lair's entrance, and slowly she climbed to her favored ledge perch.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :Someone was watching him. White-blue hues turned to regard the woman who seemed to wave, and then stop. He canted his head to oneside slightly, and blinked. Very slowly. Look into those eyes, look deep, and you won't look away from the slight, red tint that seems to captivate, to lech into your mind and hold you still. Those eyes were trying to lock onto to Nikia's:
Icer1978: ::From her vantage point, the little dragon could see much of the glen, horned head canting as she spotted Art and Nikia.::
Nikia O'Neill: There was something about him....that made her drop her gaze away from him. That wasn't Art. That much she had gather so far. But he looked exactly like him. He even<I>smelled</I>like him. Or maybe she'd inhaled too much smoke the night before, and was hallucinating. Eventually, her head found her hands, and they pressed against each other.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :She looked away. The red tint faded after another blink and he stood up slowly, brushed his knees down, and looked about the small patch of the Glen they were standing in for a moment. He was dressed in what appeared to be some kind of armour. It was, strange though. It appeared to be a kind of plate mail, tiny little circles of metal, each one overlapping the other and covers his entire torso and hips. It appeared to be ceremonial in some fashion, from the design and the cut of it, along with the simple shin and thigh guards he wore. The metal had an odd, blue tint to it, and had seen much better days. It was dented, scratched and had some plates missing. At his left hip, was as ever, the slightly battered and worn, black leather scabbard holding his sword. White-blue gaze feel on Nikia again, and for a moment, hovered there. Then he was moving towards her slowly, hands clasped behind his back:
Icer1978: :;Wings shuffled as she remained upon the safety of her ledge perch, though momma was studying Art.::
Nikia O'Neill: It was the clink of metal and armor that gave his movement away. Her hands dropped, and her eyes danced back towards his imposing form. The closer her got, the more he'd probably realize how ragged she looked. Her skin was close to being chalk white pale, with just a hint of apricot. Over that, there were smudges of ash, and soot, making parts of her look black, or a muddy grey. her clothes, and parts of her hair were singed. Her feet were bare, and looked just as dirty as the rest of her. Her eyes moved back up to the Man's face, when he was close enough, and she took several steps back.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He stopped when he was close enough that she backed away. And for a long moment, just stared at her with those white-blue eyes. Finally, he spoke, his voice much softer than normal: "This is not Kel'Tartan Desert...I don't suppose you could tell me where I am, and who you are, Miss?"
Nikia O'Neill: That confirmed that it wasn't Art. If it was, he would have known who she was. She shifted on her feet, and dropped her gaze away from him. "I've no clue where your talking about. But Uh. This place is Rhy'din. And My Name's Nikia. Nikia O'Neill." Once again. her amber green hues moved back up to his face. "You wouldn't happen to be Arthour, would you?"
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He frowned. It was a facial gesture of far greater annoyance and anger than anything Art would have used: "Rhy'din?" :He repeated softly, before the frown was replaised with a blank look, and his head tilted to one side once more: "Yes. My name is Arthour. How do you know that?"
Icer1978: :;Still studying the man from the distance.::
Nikia O'Neill: "You look just like a close friend of mine. Only he doesn't have all the Armor. His name's Arthour as well, but he goes by Art. It's strange." Amber green hues were filled with bright curiousity now.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He tilted his head again the other way: "Art".....Does he call himself Arthour Chazore?"
Nikia O'Neill: She stared at him for several moments, before noding. "He does."
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He smiled then. It wasn't *quite* Arthour's smile....But...There was a glimmer of intriege in those eyes...That seemed to out shine the near constant red film that covers them, dulling the piercing white-blue: "Facinating..." :He murmured softly:
Nikia O'Neill: "Is that so?" Asked softly. His eyes...were kind of interesting. The way they changed color like that.
Icer1978: ::A slight rumble then. And she unfurled her left wing, flapping . She did need to strengthen it.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :Said eyes, moved to lock onto hers. The red that filmed them seemed to grown slightly in intensity, trying to lock her in: "Yes, very....For, you see...I'm Arthour Chazore. Arch-Swore of a dead city and dying world" :His head returned to it's normal position and his voice went from soft, to deep. Dark: "And now you tell me there is another. Which is impossible. An imposter"
Nikia O'Neill: It didn't take long. She felt like she was dragged into a fog. "Not an imposter. Art is Art. He's been Art for a long while now." she murmured softly.
Icer1978: ::Tail danged from her perch as she continued exercising that wing. By now it didn't make her flinch anymore.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :Suddenly, he grinned malicioulsy as he felt the effect of his...It wasn't exactlly telepathy, whatever it was, it started to take it's effect on poor Nikia's mind. Leching and setting thoughts that weren't her own, into motion.<I>Tell him what he wants to know. Awe and Respect of the Swordmages, a Demi-God stands before you.</I>Insidious and only slightly below perception: "Tell me Nikia. Where is he, this 'Art'" If we share the same name, maybe there is more. Tell me."
Nikia O'Neill: "I uh." It felt wrong...divulging that information, but she did it anyway. "Most of the time....he's on the lands of Bristol Crios. It's here in the glen. It's where I live as well." She murmured softly.
Icer1978: ::Soon her other wing unfurled, flapping as well.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: "I see. Where is this Bristol Crios" Where else does he go, stay, who are his friends Nikia" Tell me." :He replied in that same, cool, insidious and down right dark voice. The way the light feel on them, it gave him a somewhat otherworldly look, dangerous. In effect, he had a look on his face that said 'I can kill you whenever I want' and the sword at his hip would likely make a point of proving that:
Nikia O'Neill: "I...I ah...Wrong." Her head felt fuzzy, and confused. She was trying to pull away from what ever influence he had on her. It was harder than she initially thought. "Not too far from here....The...uh....inn. Friend....with a lot of people. Including me. He's a wife....and a Daughter. Mai. The daughter's name is....Is." She groaned here, and shook her head, obviously struggling against what ever it was.
Icer1978: ::Nostrils twitched as she saw Nikia seeming to struggle, wings shuffling again. But she knew her left wing was still not quite strong enough.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: "A...Wife......And Daughter..." A<I>WIFE AND DAUGHTER"!"</I>:His right hand lashed out to backhand Nikia across the cheek:
Icer1978: ::Rumbling as Nikia was backhanded.:;
Nikia O'Neill: She flinched when he yelled. Only to have his hand connect with her face. It sent her sideways, and she tumbled, hit the ground, and groaned. Though, there should have been, after getting back handed like that, there was no red mark where she had been hit. "Yes." It was more of a whimper than anything.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He moved towards her, face contorted in rage: "Steals my name, and sires a little BITCH"! WHERE" WHERE ARE THEY"!" :His hand lashed out at Nikia again, balled in a fist to strike her upper arm. Which ever was closest:
Icer1978: ::Soon a roar sounded.:
Nikia O'Neill: It was that strike, that snapped her out of what fog lingered in her mind. The blow knocked her so that she was laying flat on her back. Like the night before, something snapped in her. Within seconds, she was on her feet, and a good distance away from him. "Figure it out yourself." Those words were more snarl than anything else.
Icer1978: :;Nostrils still flared as Nikia was hit again, though the dragon still had yet to leave the ledge she perched upon. The wind carrying a bit of a growl.:;
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :At Icer's roar, he faced the little dragon. A moments hesitation. Then a ball of fore is thrown at her. It will likely miss, by a fair margin at that, but it should be enough to keep her from interfering. He looked back at Nikia. He snarled. A real snarl. Those eyes" There is the barest hint of the white-blue left in them. His fist balled into another fist, and this time? He<I>flickered.</I>Appearing to not be there one moment, and then he was...Only he's moved about 6 steps to the left and his fist has already travelled about half the distance between them in a vicious jab at her arm or torso again:
Icer1978: ::The fireball had missed, fizzling into the mountainside, though wings shuffled once more. Nikia seemed to be outmatched.::
Sitalkis: The dakini wandered into the glen in her human form, looking around at the signs of a recent fight confusedly.
Vladimir Shimmerscale: The little hatchling poofed not too far from momma, but apparently there was a fight, the hatchling gasped and quickly moved trough the trees and try to help momma in a way "momma y help, I help" he whined scared for his momma.
Icer1978: :;A rumble to Sita from her perch, before sending a bit of icefire Art's direction. She owed him for the fireball!:;
Sitalkis: Apparently friend Icer and friend Arthour were dueling or practicing for reasons unknown, but a hatchling had no business getting involved so she scampered towards the youngling, calliing out, "youngling, do not interfere with the elders while they duel, you might be hurt, come and sit with Sitalkis instead, here to the side where it is safer."
Vladimir Shimmerscale: The little hatchling whimpered and looked back at the stranger "But...me momma...she in danger..." He then let out a scared howl at momma and he was looking between the stranger and his dueling momma trying to decide if go to help or stay with the stranger.
Icer1978: ::Momma was on a ledge near the lair.::
Arthour Of Talon rest: :Some ways off from Nikia, the Nexus was doing it's thing. It warped and contorted around a single figure, shifted and collapsed a part of space/time and with a loud pop in sub-space and the Aether, it threw out into this world....Arthour. It looked like him, smelt like him, it even shook it's head and blinked around in a slightly dazed fashion like him. But...There were certain....Things. Call it a felling, but...This didn't *feel* like Art.
Nikia O'Neill: It was the loud pop that drew the attention of those amber green hues. Her first initial reaction, when she spotted him, was A wave. Then she stopped mid wave and frowned. SHe didn't understand why, or how, but something seemed off with this person. Slowly, she got to her feet, and stretched, not letting her eyes stray from him the whole time she did so.
Icer1978: ::Momma had been tired of resting in bed. Soon the little dragon appeared from the lair's entrance, and slowly she climbed to her favored ledge perch.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :Someone was watching him. White-blue hues turned to regard the woman who seemed to wave, and then stop. He canted his head to oneside slightly, and blinked. Very slowly. Look into those eyes, look deep, and you won't look away from the slight, red tint that seems to captivate, to lech into your mind and hold you still. Those eyes were trying to lock onto to Nikia's:
Icer1978: ::From her vantage point, the little dragon could see much of the glen, horned head canting as she spotted Art and Nikia.::
Nikia O'Neill: There was something about him....that made her drop her gaze away from him. That wasn't Art. That much she had gather so far. But he looked exactly like him. He even<I>smelled</I>like him. Or maybe she'd inhaled too much smoke the night before, and was hallucinating. Eventually, her head found her hands, and they pressed against each other.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :She looked away. The red tint faded after another blink and he stood up slowly, brushed his knees down, and looked about the small patch of the Glen they were standing in for a moment. He was dressed in what appeared to be some kind of armour. It was, strange though. It appeared to be a kind of plate mail, tiny little circles of metal, each one overlapping the other and covers his entire torso and hips. It appeared to be ceremonial in some fashion, from the design and the cut of it, along with the simple shin and thigh guards he wore. The metal had an odd, blue tint to it, and had seen much better days. It was dented, scratched and had some plates missing. At his left hip, was as ever, the slightly battered and worn, black leather scabbard holding his sword. White-blue gaze feel on Nikia again, and for a moment, hovered there. Then he was moving towards her slowly, hands clasped behind his back:
Icer1978: :;Wings shuffled as she remained upon the safety of her ledge perch, though momma was studying Art.::
Nikia O'Neill: It was the clink of metal and armor that gave his movement away. Her hands dropped, and her eyes danced back towards his imposing form. The closer her got, the more he'd probably realize how ragged she looked. Her skin was close to being chalk white pale, with just a hint of apricot. Over that, there were smudges of ash, and soot, making parts of her look black, or a muddy grey. her clothes, and parts of her hair were singed. Her feet were bare, and looked just as dirty as the rest of her. Her eyes moved back up to the Man's face, when he was close enough, and she took several steps back.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He stopped when he was close enough that she backed away. And for a long moment, just stared at her with those white-blue eyes. Finally, he spoke, his voice much softer than normal: "This is not Kel'Tartan Desert...I don't suppose you could tell me where I am, and who you are, Miss?"
Nikia O'Neill: That confirmed that it wasn't Art. If it was, he would have known who she was. She shifted on her feet, and dropped her gaze away from him. "I've no clue where your talking about. But Uh. This place is Rhy'din. And My Name's Nikia. Nikia O'Neill." Once again. her amber green hues moved back up to his face. "You wouldn't happen to be Arthour, would you?"
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He frowned. It was a facial gesture of far greater annoyance and anger than anything Art would have used: "Rhy'din?" :He repeated softly, before the frown was replaised with a blank look, and his head tilted to one side once more: "Yes. My name is Arthour. How do you know that?"
Icer1978: :;Still studying the man from the distance.::
Nikia O'Neill: "You look just like a close friend of mine. Only he doesn't have all the Armor. His name's Arthour as well, but he goes by Art. It's strange." Amber green hues were filled with bright curiousity now.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He tilted his head again the other way: "Art".....Does he call himself Arthour Chazore?"
Nikia O'Neill: She stared at him for several moments, before noding. "He does."
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He smiled then. It wasn't *quite* Arthour's smile....But...There was a glimmer of intriege in those eyes...That seemed to out shine the near constant red film that covers them, dulling the piercing white-blue: "Facinating..." :He murmured softly:
Nikia O'Neill: "Is that so?" Asked softly. His eyes...were kind of interesting. The way they changed color like that.
Icer1978: ::A slight rumble then. And she unfurled her left wing, flapping . She did need to strengthen it.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :Said eyes, moved to lock onto hers. The red that filmed them seemed to grown slightly in intensity, trying to lock her in: "Yes, very....For, you see...I'm Arthour Chazore. Arch-Swore of a dead city and dying world" :His head returned to it's normal position and his voice went from soft, to deep. Dark: "And now you tell me there is another. Which is impossible. An imposter"
Nikia O'Neill: It didn't take long. She felt like she was dragged into a fog. "Not an imposter. Art is Art. He's been Art for a long while now." she murmured softly.
Icer1978: ::Tail danged from her perch as she continued exercising that wing. By now it didn't make her flinch anymore.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :Suddenly, he grinned malicioulsy as he felt the effect of his...It wasn't exactlly telepathy, whatever it was, it started to take it's effect on poor Nikia's mind. Leching and setting thoughts that weren't her own, into motion.<I>Tell him what he wants to know. Awe and Respect of the Swordmages, a Demi-God stands before you.</I>Insidious and only slightly below perception: "Tell me Nikia. Where is he, this 'Art'" If we share the same name, maybe there is more. Tell me."
Nikia O'Neill: "I uh." It felt wrong...divulging that information, but she did it anyway. "Most of the time....he's on the lands of Bristol Crios. It's here in the glen. It's where I live as well." She murmured softly.
Icer1978: ::Soon her other wing unfurled, flapping as well.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: "I see. Where is this Bristol Crios" Where else does he go, stay, who are his friends Nikia" Tell me." :He replied in that same, cool, insidious and down right dark voice. The way the light feel on them, it gave him a somewhat otherworldly look, dangerous. In effect, he had a look on his face that said 'I can kill you whenever I want' and the sword at his hip would likely make a point of proving that:
Nikia O'Neill: "I...I ah...Wrong." Her head felt fuzzy, and confused. She was trying to pull away from what ever influence he had on her. It was harder than she initially thought. "Not too far from here....The...uh....inn. Friend....with a lot of people. Including me. He's a wife....and a Daughter. Mai. The daughter's name is....Is." She groaned here, and shook her head, obviously struggling against what ever it was.
Icer1978: ::Nostrils twitched as she saw Nikia seeming to struggle, wings shuffling again. But she knew her left wing was still not quite strong enough.::
Arthour Of Talon Crest: "A...Wife......And Daughter..." A<I>WIFE AND DAUGHTER"!"</I>:His right hand lashed out to backhand Nikia across the cheek:
Icer1978: ::Rumbling as Nikia was backhanded.:;
Nikia O'Neill: She flinched when he yelled. Only to have his hand connect with her face. It sent her sideways, and she tumbled, hit the ground, and groaned. Though, there should have been, after getting back handed like that, there was no red mark where she had been hit. "Yes." It was more of a whimper than anything.
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :He moved towards her, face contorted in rage: "Steals my name, and sires a little BITCH"! WHERE" WHERE ARE THEY"!" :His hand lashed out at Nikia again, balled in a fist to strike her upper arm. Which ever was closest:
Icer1978: ::Soon a roar sounded.:
Nikia O'Neill: It was that strike, that snapped her out of what fog lingered in her mind. The blow knocked her so that she was laying flat on her back. Like the night before, something snapped in her. Within seconds, she was on her feet, and a good distance away from him. "Figure it out yourself." Those words were more snarl than anything else.
Icer1978: :;Nostrils still flared as Nikia was hit again, though the dragon still had yet to leave the ledge she perched upon. The wind carrying a bit of a growl.:;
Arthour Of Talon Crest: :At Icer's roar, he faced the little dragon. A moments hesitation. Then a ball of fore is thrown at her. It will likely miss, by a fair margin at that, but it should be enough to keep her from interfering. He looked back at Nikia. He snarled. A real snarl. Those eyes" There is the barest hint of the white-blue left in them. His fist balled into another fist, and this time? He<I>flickered.</I>Appearing to not be there one moment, and then he was...Only he's moved about 6 steps to the left and his fist has already travelled about half the distance between them in a vicious jab at her arm or torso again:
Icer1978: ::The fireball had missed, fizzling into the mountainside, though wings shuffled once more. Nikia seemed to be outmatched.::
Sitalkis: The dakini wandered into the glen in her human form, looking around at the signs of a recent fight confusedly.
Vladimir Shimmerscale: The little hatchling poofed not too far from momma, but apparently there was a fight, the hatchling gasped and quickly moved trough the trees and try to help momma in a way "momma y help, I help" he whined scared for his momma.
Icer1978: :;A rumble to Sita from her perch, before sending a bit of icefire Art's direction. She owed him for the fireball!:;
Sitalkis: Apparently friend Icer and friend Arthour were dueling or practicing for reasons unknown, but a hatchling had no business getting involved so she scampered towards the youngling, calliing out, "youngling, do not interfere with the elders while they duel, you might be hurt, come and sit with Sitalkis instead, here to the side where it is safer."
Vladimir Shimmerscale: The little hatchling whimpered and looked back at the stranger "But...me momma...she in danger..." He then let out a scared howl at momma and he was looking between the stranger and his dueling momma trying to decide if go to help or stay with the stranger.
Icer1978: ::Momma was on a ledge near the lair.::