NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20 
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Post by NecroDude on Dec 17, 2015 12:01:28 GMT
Character Name: Eldu'athin Melvisi Silvilistari, Or As He Knows Himself: Cloak
Gender: Male
Age: 178
Race: Sylvan Elf (Wood Elf)
Class: Rogue, Ranger, Wizard
Eye Color: Bright Amber
Hair Color: Dark Red
General Build: Lithe, very agile like most elves, but with a pronounced grace that is almost beautiful to behold
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Description:
Cloak is a taller elf, standing at 5'11 sporting quick and agile movements, not lacking in muscle, but nothing spectacularly strong, his auburn colored eyes have the spark of intelligence, mischief, and kindness. He has long dark red hair which he keeps neat and tidy, but the ends seem to flare a bit wildly much to his annoyance, he has a smooth, wild appearance to him, often sporting the odd feather in his hair, or a set of knucklebones from some sort of small animal around his neck. He has the beautiful grace in his appearance as many elves do, though he's nothing spectacular, and he seems rather quiet at times, often letting a facial expression express himself where his words would fail him. He keeps a bow always on his back or in his hands, and he seems very capable at using it. As to clothing, he don's loose leather-cloth attires, often taking great effort to at least look stylish, his most common colors a natural green, and a earthen black.
His voice is soothing, and quiet, when he uses it, and if he's yelling it's probably over something important to him. He has quick hands, and his movements are quiet, and sometimes hard to hear. He seems to be confused easily, and seems very easily driven by emotion, often it is easy to tell what he is feeling. Additionally, he seems to always write in a journal which he keeps with him wherever he goes, often looking sadly into past bits of the journal which if you were to ask him, he can't understand.. And doesn't remember ever writing.
Lastly, if ever his bare skin is shown he has a series of black tattoos all over his arms, legs, back, and chest which he doesn't seem to recall ever getting, and doesn't understand the meaning of. (Any who know drowish, and are familiar with drow culture would note that they were the marks of a slave of the drow, particularly a gladiator slave)
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NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20
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Post by NecroDude on Dec 17, 2015 12:40:00 GMT
The Past: Chapter 1
Cloak, or Eldu as he was known then, grew up in a secluded part of the High Forest's, near the Grandfather tree.. Raised by his elven parents in a elven village, the village itself was quite a beauty to behold, all manners of wondrous houses of delicate design, in tune with nature, often animals roaming the village freely alongside the elven people.. The villages guardians were druids, rangers, and elven warriors who had all agreed mutually to be the villages defense in times of need. Cloak was raised as most elven children were in the village, being taught all manners of elven lore, histories, and legends, taught how to write and speak Elvish, and Sylvan, common however was not taught to them as they had little to no contact with non-elvish communities and people. Cloak's parents were carpenters, and his mother a druid, his father just a simple individual with no particular talent in fighting, or magic; Though he made one damn good carpenter.
As Cloak grew, he always seemed to find mischief in everywhere he went, stealing small things from his fellow people for sport before returning them (much to their often unpleasant surprise). He also found kinship with nature, often going for walks in the woodland he lived in just to admire the beauty of nature, and found many friends in the animals that inhabited the woodlands. He would train with the bow, and to his parents surprise, was pretty dang good at using it even as a child. He showed signs of good work with woodworking, particularly arrows and bows of which he kept only his own craftsmanship for his use.
Cloak himself despite his trouble with other villagers for being a thief (even if he returned most things he stole, a thief is still what he was) was overall loved by his fellow people for being a compassionate, and sensitive individual, not against helping with many tasks around the village, appreciating many works of art from the various artisan elves in the village, often asking to help in creation of the works of beauty they created, he even as he grew a little older courted a elven maiden or two of the village in the years he lived there, though sadly these courtships never came to successful endings as each one ended with them just not being as compatible as they thought they were, though it's safe to say they ended on good terms, and left wonderful memories (and lessons) on love, and as such, cloak came to deeply adore love itself, finding his greatest joys when he was able to find such emotions for another.
Cloak grew to be a Loyal, and a goodly figure, though it would be safe to say he was a little more troublesome than normal, finding joy in picking locks he shouldn't, sneaking about to play pranks on others, and setting small, if harmless traps to befuddle his fellow people, and of course, he found a joy in taking things he shouldn't. As such, he was a free spirit to be true, and liked to live unpredictably. And eventually through all this he would acquire the nickname "Cloak" from one of his best friends in the village by the name of Naoi, a elven maiden who shared many of the same qualities as cloak, and became one of his most valued companions, if it were not for different circumstances in the near future they may have even fallen in love. Naoi herself was a lot like cloak in that she was just like him when it came to troublesome nature, often helping him with his endeavors to surprise and trap people for fun, and stealing small things that they could. Naoi being a little more boyish in her ways also seemed to make cloak and her get along better. Naoi definitely impacted cloak a lot, the nature of his nickname being that Naoi went by "Dagger" and Cloak "Cloak", together they were Cloak and Dagger, kindred mischievous spirits.
It would be many years, before the first tragedy would befall cloak, his people, and his family, and his friends... In one dark night, all he knew would be destroyed.. Creeping from the shadows on that dark night stalked elves with skin dark as coal, beauty unparalleled, but only hiding their deadly, wretched nature: Drow: A raiding party crawling up from one of the many access points of the underdark.. The night was one of slaughter. By the time the sun began to just rise, the town lay butchered, burned, and destroyed entirely, most if not all of its residents dead, or now part of the slave caravan the drow were returning to the underdark with, of those newfound slaves, cloak, and his father were among them, his mother dead.. The only comfort Cloak could find, was that Naoi was not among the dead, and he noticed her not amongs the slaves, meaning she must have been some of the few to escape... Before he and the others were taken away he held onto that comfort, knowing that Naoi would be spared whatever fate was to befall him and his fellow enslaved people.
Down, down to the underdark the drow would take them, disappearing into the earth as the sun reached the sky. And for many hard days, the elven prisoners would be beaten, and forced along the path the drow were taking, the ones too weak to walk killed off and left for one of the many horrid beasts of the underdark... Cloak along the way proved to be quite the survivor, taking his beatings in stride, and keeping his head up, not falling behind, and proving to be quite stout and able along the way.. The trip was dangerous, many creatures attacking the caravan along the way, some slaves dieing, even some drow dieing from the attacking creatures, Cloak just doing his best to survive the encounters..
One attack in particular, A group of Monstrous aberrants attacked the slave caravan, twisted horrible monstrosities of best left unsaid origins, and untellable twisting features... A bow wielding drow had died near cloak, and when one of the monstrosities came for his father, Cloak being nimble as he was, managed to slip out of his bounds which were done arguably poorly, andquickly reached down and grabbed the drow's bow, using it and the arrows he could grab to fire on the creature to take it out.. His shots were true, and the beast was felled by his attack. The battle quickly ending from the skilled drow marauders, they instantly turned on the bow wielding cloak and beat him into the dirt, ripping the bow from his hands.. And just as one was about to kill him for such an offense, the leader of the caravan, ordered the drow to halt... Eyeing Cloak, he kicked the dead monsters corpse, and saw the skill in which cloak used the bow... Turning to cloak and speaking in the elvish tongue he said "I think I know precisely how you'll serve me... Yes you'll do just fine.." turning to the drow, he said something in drowish, and this time, cloak's hands were bound better this time and they continued on their way.
Eventually, after weeks of travel, they reached their destination... By the time they had reached the city, a good half of the slaves had died off, been slaughtered, or died of starvation and mistreatment, Cloak himself weaker than he had ever been, but holding on.. His father the same, having proven to be quite stalwart himself... From the travel time, it's a mystery why the drow chose to take such a long trip to attack his village, a mystery never truly understood... The best one can think is it was just an act of petty hatred, and sport on the drow's part. The city itself was known only as Eryndlyn, a drow metropolis home to drow houses in service of Lolth, Ghaunadaur, and Vhaerun... Cloak's caravan were taken to the western plateau of the city where the houses under Lolth dwelled.
Near the shore of the lake of the city, was where the many camps and holding places for slaves were, and cloak was taken there along with his father and the other slaves to be processed and organized.. And so would begin Cloak's story of his time in slavery..
Chapter 1 Done
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NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20
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Post by NecroDude on Dec 19, 2015 14:40:32 GMT
A Slave: Chapter Two
Organized and processed, Cloak was now separated from his father, the two heading to different fates... A drow which cloak recognized as the leader of his caravan had claimed him, and had taken cloak to a slave area dominated by slaves which were used for amusement, and recreation for the drow, dominantly gladiator slaves. Once there, cloak was examined, and put through many torturous hours of initial torture to test his constitution, of which cloak did barely enough to survive, and eventually was branded, and tattooed magically by a drow mage, markings of a gladiator slave covering his body. Cloak's first match was to be that very day... Given, styled black gladiator leathers, a longsword, and a bow, all of fine drowish make, he was sent into the ring to fight against a gnoll slave that brandished a large axe.. Having never really fought much before, the beginning of the match was mostly cloak trying to dodge the gnoll's attacks, and scampering about the ring trying to stay away from the gnoll... Many jeers and laughter were heard from the drow spectators, and already bets were made against cloak on who would win... After a while, cloak started to get tired and realized if he didn't do something... He was going to die.. Brandishing his sword, he began to experiment with methods of attack, wielding the sword clumsily.. The gnoll itself seemed to tire a lot faster than cloak, his attacks becoming more sluggish.. Darting forward, cloak jabbed his sword at the gnoll, and surprisingly, managed to cut a gash in it's side. Snarling angrily, the gnoll nearly beheaded cloak with a retaliating side swing, which cloak managed just in time to duck away from. Jabbing downward, cloak managed to score another hit, driving the sword into the gnolls leg, before jumping back and out of range of a return attack.. Now that the gnoll's leg was wounded, it moved pathetically, and Cloak was able to get some distance in the actually rather large arena in which they fought. Gaining distance, cloak switched to the tool he knew best: The bow. Aiming a few shots, he quickly dispatched the gnoll, putting an arrow in it's chest, and then one in it's head.
The outcome of the battle shocked the onlookers.. Many grumbling as they handed over gold to rivals, and even some cheering from some of the drow. Leaving the arena, weapons taken away from him, The grinning face of the caravan leader met him, and the leader spoke to him in the elvish tongue once more: "Keep that up, and you may live long enough to become a favorite of mine, surface scum.." And with that, cloak was led back to his slave camp and was ordered to practice his combat skills, given dull weapons and matched against other slaves owned by the caravan leader in practice battles, preparing them for future fights...
Days, weeks, months would pass... Cloak trained hard, and long to get better, he knew if he didn't become the best, he would die, that eventually he would meet someone who trained harder and would meet his end.. So he trained as hard as he could, and it payed off, he became quite skilled, skilled decently with the longsword, and an amazing marksman. He would meet many matches against many opponents, usually one or two a day, and he always won, he -had- to win, it was that or die. He often took advantage of the large arena that was there, taking the wide spaces, to start off with distance enough to put his bow to use to end matches as quickly as he could, or at least to soften his opponent up enough so he could finish them with his sword. Most of the time he fought slaves of monstrous origin, sometimes he fought humanoids. Something he never fought, though he would have died to face, was another drow. This would go on for.. Many years.. And life would become a routine for cloak; Train, sleep, eat, kill, train, sleep, eat, kill; Everyday the same as before, occasionally his mind would drift to Naoi, sometimes to his father, but as time went on... He stopped thinking about such things, and all that mattered was the next match, or the caravan leaders praising words.. He would become the caravan leaders favorite slave in time...
It would seem as if this would be his fate for eternity until he finally met his end.. But one day.. His next match was far different... Entering the ring, to his surprise, though he hardly registered it, he was facing another elf.. A haggard, weak looking elf.. Something was familiar about this elf.. But his face, and body had been so badly tortured, marred, and scarred that he couldn't recall where he knew this elf from... But it hardly mattered, this was another opponent, his next match, and he of course, had to win... He could tell that something was off about this match... The crowd seemed a bit more excited than usual, and this elf looked hardly fit for battle, and the way he wielded his spear and shield was awkwardly... The elf did not speak, and cloak noticed that his mouth had been... Sewn shut... "What a miserable creature..." thought cloak... As the battle began, the two elves charged eachother... As the elf weakly lifted his spear, and cloak swung his sword to attack, Cloak realized this one swing would be enough, the other elf did not raise his shield, and as he got close to cloak his spear faltered, and fell from his hands.. Too late to stop, cloaks sword cleaved through the elves face, tearing what bound the elf's mouth shut, and cutting deep into his face.. The elf fell to his knee's choking on blood.. But he managed to gurgle a word or two as he choked.. "Eldu... No..."..
It couldn't be... The voice suddenly snapped cloak from his dulled routine-based thoughts.. Everything came back, Naoi, His home, His life, everything.. He gazed in horror down upon what he finally recognized.. As his father... The crowd laughed and jeered, cheered, and passed gold around.. Cloak fell to his knee's in shock.. And began to weep, cradling the body of his father, which continued to stare at cloak while he choked on his own blood for what seemed forever before finally dieing in cloak's arms... Cloak wailed, and just clutched at his father.. Unable to believe what had happened... It would be many minutes of the crowds continued cheering and laughter before a few drow came into the ring and pried cloak from his father, dragging him out of the ring, as cloak gazed at his fathers sad remains in the middle of the ring, the image burned into his mind...
That was all it took to snap cloak back, his sorrow, turned to hatred... Anger.. And a burning need for vengeance.. The caravan leader had congratulated him on winning his "finest" match yet, with a sickening grin.. The caravan leader had set this up... Through his time there, Cloak had learned drowish, and even from a few rare human slaves, the common language of the surface.. Cloak now had a new idea in his mind: Rebellion...
For the next few weeks he continued to gain victories, but he began causing unrest among the slaves... Whispering.. Plotting a grand escape... For many weeks it would be like this, until an opportune moment came upon them... The city was under attack... An army of illithids, and aberrant monstrosities had chosen to attack the city, and an immense battle was under way.. Guards were withdrawn to join the battle, and eventually they began taking slaves from the ranks to put into the battle as fodder... But only a few were taken before cloak roused them all into their act they had plotted for a while: Rebellion.. The mass of slaves rose up under cloaks call and they began attacking the few drow guards that had remained, the numbers overwhelming the drow with ease... The mass of slaves instantly began fleeing along the edge of the lake and outward towards a way out of the city... Of course, they can into groups of drow on their way, and many slaves tried to fight, others fled from the drow and kept on running, the ones staying behind distracting the drow long enough for others to escape... By the time cloak escaped the city, only a small group remained left of them...
Somehow, purely out of sheer luck they escaped the city on an end not under attack by the illithids, and into the tunnels they went.. running far and long to get as far from the city as possible... Cloak still seethed with misery.. and unsatisfied vengeance.. But at least he had escaped that damnable life... And at least he was free... The few slaves that stayed with cloak from the group that had escaped were a deep gnome, a goblin, a human, and a gnoll. The human had told them how he had somehow gotten enslaved by the drow, having been a former adventurer who had gone into the dark seeking riches, and it was the human who claimed he knew a way back to the surface, a long trip, but a way nonetheless, having been in the underdark for some time before he had managed to be captured and enslaved.. It is because of his human the only reason why they survived the dark.. The human knew what things to avoid, what signs meant danger, he knew how to find them food, and even what materials could be used for them to fashion tools for survival. After a weeks time, the goblin had left, the gnoll had died falling into a pit, and the gnome had simply vanished.. The human, who went by Daeric, and cloak were the only one's left... In that time they had managed to find an old abandoned camp by some race that held a small cache of weapons, clothing fitting to surviving the dark, and even some rations. With this, and many weeks travel, they eventually and finally found their way to a winding tunnel which led up, and up, and even further up...
It was upon the fourth week that they finally reached the surface... Fresh air filled their lungs as they stepped out into the night, cold crisp air relieving them, and filling them with new hope.. "We made it.. By the gods we made it" Daeric said... Looking around, Daeric said "This is where I entered the underdark.. We are on the egde of the spine of the world, from here we can get to luskan!" Smiling for the first time in what seemed ages.. Cloak nodded. "Let's make camp, and head off in the morning".. That night, Cloak rested deeply.. Thoughts of Naoi, and his family on his mind.. He wondered where Naoi was now.. What had befallen her after all this time.. If she ever thought about him.. And then sleep overtook him..
Chapter Two Done
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NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20
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Post by NecroDude on Dec 19, 2015 15:17:26 GMT
Memory Lost, Waterdeep: Chapter Three
Daeric and Cloak traveled for days, seemingly the trip to Luskan would be easy and without trouble... Daeric talked about Waterdeep, Luskan, and all about life in the world... Filling Cloak with information and knowledge he would never have known within his forest home. As they reached Luskan together, Daeric led cloak to one of his old friends in the town and after much joyful reunion between Daeric and his friend, the friend helped Cloak and Daeric get proper clothing, weapons, even gave them some gold for their planned trip to Waterdeep. It was during this time that cloak bought a large journal and spent a few of their days with the friend writing about all that happened in the Underdark, about his childhood, growing up, about Naoi, though for some reason.. He chose to write all of it in drowish... Deciding that he wanted no one to ever be able to read this but him... The story he wrote was quite elaborate, and he almost filled the whole book with his story, before setting the journal aside in his pack.
Come time, Daeric and Cloak left Luskan, traveling south towards Neverwinter. Their trip was smooth, and without trouble, not much of note happening during the trip, all during it, Daeric told Cloak more and more about the world, about many cities, about how people lived, and various legends and tales that were common to the trading world. It would seem as if their trip would flow perfectly, until they reached just outside Waterdeep... While they made camp.. A group of bandits chose to attack them, Daeric was killed, and Cloak managed to fight off most of them before being forced to flee.. Ridden with guilt, and sadness at the loss of his friend, Cloak just kept running.. Heading towards Waterdeep.. Just outside the gates, Cloak raised a hand to greet the guards when an arrow flew into his back.. Knocking him forward landing directly on his head into the ground, head hitting a rock... And then all was dark...
When Cloak awoke... His head swirled with confusion, and darkness.. Where was he? Who was he? What happened? After a few moments, Cloak remembered only a few things... The name Cloak stuck in his head.. He at least knew that's what his name was.. Or was it? He was sure that he was Cloak.. But was that his only name?.. He did not know.. All he knew was he was Cloak... And that he was supposed to be in a place called Waterdeep.. Yes, Cloak had lost his memory from the impact of his head.. He remembered a few languages.. Common.. Sylvan.. Elven.. But all knowledge of Drowish was gone... He couldn't remember where he was from, or who he had been... A name stuck in his head as someone he should know.. Someone who was dearly important to him for some reason.. Naoi.. But he couldn't remember anything else... Cloak had been picked up by the guards, and taken into the city to one of the hospices of Iiamater, where they had taken care of his back injury and head injury.. The guards said that a bandit had been seen in the distance, and likely the arrow came from them, but they didn't know anything else...
And so began Cloak's life in Waterdeep. For a few days, cloak stayed with the hospice while he scavenged through what he had, enough gold to survive, clothing, a bow and arrows, rations, a book-journal he could not read which still had many blank pages, and some other essentials. As soon as he was ready to leave the hospice, he asked around town about the area, and decided he would stay in the city for a while.. And for the next few years he did... Cloak discovered he was a skilled carpenter, and a good fletcher, and found a job with a local shop making arrows, and bows for their sales, and he helped run the shop as well. He made enough gold to get by, and decided he did not want to stay in the city itself.. He lived in woodland near the city, in a simple wooden home where he did most of his fletching work before bringing it in daily to the shop, leaving after the shop closed to return to his woodland home. It was there where he spent several years brooding over trying to remember who he was, practicing with his bow, of which he found he was also very skilled with, and practicing with various things to consume time.. Over those years, he bought many locks to tinker with, as for some reason he knew he was good with locks, and he thought tinkering with them would maybe jog his memory... He went on many woodlands walks, recalling only that he was fond of the woods and animals.. He would sneak around the forest watching animals, and getting close to them as he could without being seen.. But nothing helped job his memory.. And still the name "Naoi" stuck in his mind.. He knew this person was important.. And he hoped that maybe someday.. He would find this person.. And he knew.. Just knew that if he did.. He might remember things.. This person could tell him who he was.. He knew it..
Eventually, another tragedy would befall Cloak, or rather.. Where he lived.. He had heard rumors about a new.. Plague befalling the city.. One which caused undeath.. And brought people back as zombies.. The plague had arrived from some foreign land... For the next month he would hear about the plague got worse and worse, and it eventually found it's way into the forest he lived.. And for a while, he tried avoiding and fighting any undead which found its way into the forest, but eventually.. The plague got so bad in the forest, he knew he had to leave.. His home became overrun, and cloak fled... He found his way into Waterdeep, where the disease was worst, and taking his gold, he and a small group of survivors found a boat in the harbor.. Scavenging around the city they got what supplies they needed before loading the boat and sailing off.. It was time to leave and find a place where the disease was not rampant, and travel by water seemed the safest route. His time on the boat lasted a few weeks, and during that time, he barely got to know the crew.. Mostly keeping to himself. They sailed outwards and towards some islands that someone mentioned the name "Siranda"... They knew nothing about the islands but they knew the name, and they figured that since they were away from the mainland they might be safe... And the trip continued soundly until a great storm would overtake the boat, the ship in the end was destroyed as they neared the island, and When cloak awoke from the wreckage.. He found himself on Siranda... But he would discover oh so truthfully.. That this island was far from free of the plague.. It has been only a few days since cloak arrived in Siranda, and the next chapter of his life, would begin there.
Chapter 3, Final Chapter, Done
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NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20
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Post by NecroDude on Dec 19, 2015 15:19:51 GMT
now that my bio is done pm me about any concerns, or criticism as you like, but please delete all posts not part of my bio other than this one, and i'll delete my previous posts that aren't part of my bio after the others are.
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Terallis
Seasoned Survivor
>8( so mad
I'M TOO GOOD AT VIDO GAAAEEEMMMS!
Posts: 74
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Post by Terallis on Dec 20, 2015 3:45:18 GMT
Fully approved!
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NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20
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Post by NecroDude on Dec 27, 2015 16:53:46 GMT
A Memory Returns:
As cloak sat with Leyoshi and Rina, caring for Rina as she had fallen ill with a cold, a memory returns to cloak as they care for her.. A pleasant one
"Cloak?.." Spoke a woman softly.. Cloak would snap out of his daydreaming state. "Hm. Oh, yes Naoi?" Cloak would smile. "Shush, it's Dagger, remember?" She'd say with a fake disappointed look. Grinning Cloak would reply "Sorry, Dagger..".. Naoi would let out a small sneeze. "Are you feeling any better Dagger?".. Naoi would smile warmly "Yes.. Can't believe I got sick again, what would I do if you weren't always here to take care of me when I'm sick cloak, I'd probably up and die".. Cloak stared at her trying to hold a serious face, mostly failing.. "Don't speak such nonsense, your never going to die, not while I'm here".. They'd both laugh at that.
Cloak had been caring for Naoi, as Naoi often fell sick to small colds, and fevers. They were under the shade of a tree, sunlight streaming through the leaves of the thick woods, Naoi was wrapped in a blanket, and Cloak sat nearby, preparing a stew for her. Using a ladle, he'd get some of the stew from the pot over the small campire near the tree and carry a bowl of the soup to Naoi.
"Thank you cloak" She'd begin to eat the stew, a simple stew, nothing very tasty, but at least healthy and nutritious, good for a cold. Cloak would smile, watching her eat. He'd often just gaze at her, wondering how he was so lucky to have a friend like her. And she'd gaze back, thinking the same thoughts as she ate.. Once she was finished she'd set the bowl aside.. "It's almost your birthday, right Cloak? You'll be turning 56 right?"... Realizing that he'd nod. "Oh right, I almost forgot .. Yeah 56, i'm practically an old elf!".. Naoi snorts "Pfft, right. Totally getting old Cloak. I need to think about what to get for your birthday"... Cloak would try to put on a fake serious face again "You know I don't like it when people give me gifts! I always feel bad about it when people have to go out of their way for that!"... Naoi just stares at him, then replies "You love gifts, and you know it. So hush.".. Grinning sheepishly cloak just nodded "yeah maybe i do.. Anyways, get some rest Naoi, I'll watch over you, and maybe carve a new bow.."
Sighing and shaking her head, Naoi would curl up next to cloak, wrapped in her blanket and give a small laugh.. "I guess I could use a nap, need to get better after all... And I know i'm safe with you watching over me.." And with that she'd slowly fall asleep as cloak smiled down to her, hugging her closely, protectively...
The memory would end there, leaving cloak filled with happy thoughts, and a good feeling in him as he recovered that small treasure of a memory.. His mind would wonder to where she must be.. If he would ever see her again.. How he missed her so much yet he hardly remembered much about her.. But one thing was for sure.. Naoi meant a lot to him, and she had been one of his closest companions... What he wouldn't give to see her again.. And to find more memories of them..
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NecroDude
Fresh Survivor
Need More Time For Gaming, Work IS KILLING ME
Posts: 20
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Post by NecroDude on Jan 2, 2016 12:56:39 GMT
A Nightmare Of A Memory
As Cloak slept one night... He would stir in his sleep, a memory returning in his sleep.. He had known from Faust that he had been a gladiator to the drow at one point.. But the memories of being it had eluded him.. But tonight one would return.. And upon waking.. The memory would haunt him for days to come.. The possibility of what he had been before.. Scaring him.. He would look to his amulet in comfort.. Wanting its power to hide him away.. But.. He could never hide from the memory which haunted him...
Sweat glistened on his forehead... Todark's opponent was a malnourished elf like him.. A moon elf.. This elf however fought with almost as much ferocity as cloak himself, knowing survival only came at the death of their opponent.. And neither wanted to die this dark.. Their blades clashed, sparks flying, both glaring at eachother hatefully, only one of them would leave this arena, and in eithers head by the gods it was going to be them.. Cloak already sported a small wound, a cut from his enemies sword on his arm, his enemy however sporting a deep gash on his side, and an arrow stuck in his left leg from cloak's bow, he had been unable to dodge cloak's aim. It had taken several arrows to hit the agile elf, all of the 10 they had given him this battle. Both moved around with expert grace, each wielding a longsword and shield. Cloak's blade with a clang impacted on the elf's quick movement of his shield, a return blow hit air as cloak moved to the side just in time... They would exchange blow after blow, dodging, blocking, and moving away when they had to, only to return to each others space to attempt to end one another's life. What seemed like hours to eachother was only minutes to the onlooking drow who cheered, jeered, and cursed all the same, enjoying the dance of death between the two surface elves. Finally- an opening cloak would think, as he jabbed his sword forward attempting to drive his blade into the gut of the other elf. His blade met air as the elf literally almost threw himself to the side on the ground to avoid being killed. The enemy elf scrabbled, trying to find his footing before cloak's sword handle bashed him upside the head knocking him back off his feet.. Landing with a thud, he looked up just in time to find cloak's sword pointed at his throat.. The cheers and groans of betting drow roared through the arena.. Fighting for air from the intense fight cloak looked down into the eyes of the other elf... The elf stared at him helplessly, begging almost with his gaze for a mercy they both knew Cloak couldn't give him.. "Finish him! Kill him already!" Called out one drow... Cloak blinked once, twice, before he drew back his blade and carved open the elves throat with one quick movement.. Blood pouring into the sand of the arena... Cloak stepped back raising his blade in victory.. He had fought and earned his life for another day.. But at the cost of murdering one of his kin... But such regret didn't register in the mind of the killer that had been born of countless battles in the arena before...
As he awoke from that dream, thoughts raced in his head "who was I?.. What by all the gods was I?.. That couldn't be me.. No I would never have.." Cloak curled up in bed, the implications of it all tearing him up inside.. Was he truly who he thought he was?.. Or was he just a merciless killer in truth... He'd take his amulet in hand.. It had been whispering to him.. Once he had felt a part of who he was now even slip away.. Was this memory returned to give him doubt by the amulet itself?.. Or was it just returning.. He could not tell.. The amulet had begun to scare him.. But he could not deny the pleasure it's power brought to him.. It could hide him from the eyes of the world.. But could it ever hide him from himself?...
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