Prezleek

NO

Elfborne-isms, #1

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

She had killed a man who had his back turned. She had killed a man in a dishonorable way. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she broke a string but didn’t even notice as she kept playing.

Prez’s feathers pricked up when he heard an awkward twang.  He turned to the girl and looked at the broken string. He frowned when he slid the fragments through his fingers.

"It’s fine" he sighed. "I’ll fix it later."

He gently took the cithara from Zarafinn. He put on a slight smile, trying to make it as clear as possible that he wasn’t mad at her about the instrument.

He returned to poking at the dirt. He drew three symbols in the ground: A four-sided star on the left, a horn-like glyph on the right, and a single wavering tear in the middle.

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

Zarafinn came to stand over him, looking down. The man looked exhausted. She couldn’t blame him.

Maybe the harp-thing would help. Trying to play it, she realized very quickly that it was not like playing a lute. It sounded alright, she figured, but it was a horribly improvised piece.

Getting into the rythm of playing, Zarafinn allowed her mind to wander. She killed a man today. Good times.

Prez was startled by the slightly off-key notes. He lifted his head up and saw the girl standing over him, plucking away at the cithara. It was a bit rough as a tune, but it was charming in it’s own way.

Why was she here though? Wasn’t she scared of him? He shuffled back slightly, with concern on his face. But she no longer had the terrified face from earlier; rather her expression was filled with curiosity and worry.

He rubbed his eyes and fully sat up, listening to the tune. He began etching random patterns in the dirt with a nearby stick, letting his mind wander.

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

So the harp-thingy helped control the man’s powers? Interesting.

Getting up from the grass, Zarafinn watched the man flee before scooping up the instrument in her own hands. Plucking a note produced a sound as cool as a silken thread, winding around her.

Maybe she could help? Holding the instrument tight to her chest, she started off after the man, keeping a respectful distance behind him.

Huffing and panting, the adventurer continued to run down the path, and planned to do so as far as it would go. He occasionally turned his head to check his distance between him and the girl. However, when he looked back this time, he promptly collided with a tree in front of him, and flopped backwards onto the grass.

He was too tired and upset to bother getting up again. He wanted to shed tears, but his pride wouldn’t let him, at least not out in the open. Instead, he just curled into a ball and gazed at the blades of grass, dancing with the wind.

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

This was too much, she had seen people lose themselves like this on the battlefronts. It never went well and was, more often than not, messy. Sure, she had seen Mahjarrat unleash such feats of rage, but they always had a firm mastery on their spells. Humans , however, always went out of control.

She backed away slowly, trying not to draw the man’s attention to herself. Sinking down in the tall grass, she tried to scuttle away on hands and knees. As long as the man was focused on the two Zamorakian thugs, she should be safe.

The Zamorakians tried to fight back but the adventurer was sapping the energy out of them, not to mention the ice made it difficult to even move. The adventurer held his ground, leeching out as much life as he could from the thugs. Not even their cries of agony could snap him out of his triggered state.

Nothing except the twang of his cithara. The lead Zamorakian dropped the cithara, which let out one pure note after hitting the ground. That note resonated with the pure mind of the adventurer. He began twitching as he tried to suppress the ancient magics and curses. When he finally snapped out of it, he awoke to a terrifying scene, a horrible violent mess caused by him. The Zamorakians collapsed, shivering.

"Guthix must have been delusional when choosing you," hissed the feeble Zamorakian. "You Zarosian monster. You will regret your choices, as you bring doom onto Gielinor." They quickly limped away from the scene, terrified he may attack again.

The adventurer was hyperventilating slightly. He began trembling again, overcome with remorse and disbelief he could do something so violent. He knew fighting would be necessary in his path, but there are limits between self-defence and simply going over humane bounds.

Still trembling, he turned to the teen, who shifted away from him, wide-eyed with fear. The thug was right: Guthix definitely made a mistake.

Overcome with remorse, the adventurer fled away from the girl, as fast as he could. The wind gently blew the blades of the grass, as they lightly tapped the strings of the cithara, gleaming in the moonlight.

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

Zarafinn stuck the point of her sword between one man’s ribs, easily parting flesh, piercing muscles, and finding it’s way into the chest cavity. He fell, struggling to live before finally expiring on the ground in a pool of his own crimson blood. The girl didn’t even bat an eye.

Zarafinn didn’t have time to swing for another of the men, as one of them already had sent their blade singing past her face so closely that it trimmed the edge of one of her wavy bangs.

Dropping the scrawny man with the winged helmet, the second man drew weapons and jumped at the Zarosian girl.

"I knew it!" said the Zamorakian, seizing the girl. The thug noted her Zarosian apparel. "This must be one of your fellow Zarosian whelps!"

The adventurer shook his head as he rose to his feet, but jumped back with horror after seeing the Zamorakians assaulting the poor teen. He could feel his stress levels rising.

"I’m not Zarosian, or Saradomist!" he shouted "Just please leave the kid out of this!" 

Ignoring his pleas, the Zamorakian prepared to strike the girl, while two others were surrounding him. He could feel his heart pounding faster and faster, and fear overtaking his body. He tried to keep focus but could feel his consciousness slipping again. Energy surged out from his eyes again.

"Vim inimici mihi bono inclina!"

The adventurer’s mind was gone. Any ancient knowledge manifested itself in the husk of a body.

The adventurer’s arms surged out an chilling blast, freezing all Zamorakians simultaneously in ice. Like a spider preying on stuck flies, the grin on his face grew more sinister as he chanted:

"Advoco insaniam haerecticorum in pectus meus et animam meam!"

He was much, much more terrifying than earlier.

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

Zarafinn stood dumbly, watching the scene. What the hell was going on here? Who were these men?

Figuring that she should probably help instead of capering off from here, Zarafinn slowly grabbed for her sword. 

Maybe this was just how 6th Agers said hello?

Prez scanned the foes infront of him and identified an icon on their tunic. Zamorakians. How typical. He hated generalizing groups, but most Zamorak followers that he encountered tended to resort to violence or extreme aggression.

He rolled his eyes. “What do you want you lobster-worshipping scumbags?”

"Prejudice from the World Guardian? What happened to being fair to all?" The man tightened his grip. "You haven’t even given our god a chance, Saradominist filth."

"What?!" Prez wheezed. "I’m not Sarado-"

One Zamorakian pulled out Prez’s missing cithara from his robes. He also proceeded to flip the adventurer’s cape with an emblazened Saradomin star clearly sown in the back. The Zamorakians stared at him skeptically.

"I just like their taste in music and design." protested the adventurer.

He looked passed the thugs and saw Zarafinn approaching from behind. No, run away! he thought to himself. Save yourself. But she just continued to get closer and closer.

"Do I not recall you assisting Saradomin when our great god was defeated in Lumbridge?" pressed the Zamorakian.

"Hey now wait a minute I was just-" his sentence was cut off when his Zarosian hymnal fell out of his bag.

The Zamorakians stared at the book, then back at the adventurer. “You’re Zarosian?” the Zamorakian snarled between his teeth.

I’M BACK!
Sorry for the month and a half of no cartoons, but my studies and adventures in Europe are over and I’m now back in the States!

I’M BACK!

Sorry for the month and a half of no cartoons, but my studies and adventures in Europe are over and I’m now back in the States!

You’re too kind anon ;w; <333

Taverley, local agility course. An ever-growing throng of people were gathered below a high training tower, many of them sharing concerns. It seemed someone was stuck at the very top, just up on the platform out of the line of vision.

zarosiancovenant:

prezleek:

"You can do this bud," the lanky adventurer whimpered to himself.

Prez gulped as he peered over the platform once more. It was *only* a 10 meter fall if he missed? Or was it 20? The congregation of concerned countenances below did little to boost his esteem for this obstacle. But being a World Guardian, how pathetic would it be to ask for assistance down on a simple little agility course? No, he had to get down himself. Taking one last breath, the bearded man wound up to make the leap from one platform to the next.

Apparently, none of the civilians had witnessed anyone survive a 10-meter fall until that day.

Zarafinn watched the man search before she realized what he was looking for. That funny-looking lyre, where did it go?

Getting to her feet, she helped him look for it. Had someone stolen it? Right off of him while he slept?

That was rude. 

He continued his frantic search through the grass. Why would anyone care about taking a cithara anyway? There were so much grander things to steal out in the world, most adventurers probably wouldn’t want to buy one.

He looked up and saw Zarafinn searching the opposite end of the grass. Admittely he was surprised she didn’t walk off, as he was certain she still disliked him immensely. 

However, something was in his peripheral vision. He shifted to the left and saw two figures headed toward the girl.

"Hey wait!" he shouted as he sprinted over to her. His run was cut short however; someone grabbed his cape, half strangling him when it went taught. In a flash he found himself pinned against a wall, hand at his throat. Three shrouded men surrounded him, but he tried to look past them to make sure Zarafinn was ok.

"Hello, ‘World Guardian’" uttered the figure, bitterly.