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| Vengeance; Easy Quest: complete | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 28 2014, 01:26 PM (181 Views) | |
| Azrael | Oct 28 2014, 01:26 PM Post #1 |
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Wordslinger
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| Azrael | Oct 31 2014, 03:46 PM Post #2 |
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Wordslinger
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“Azrael…” The name had come to his lips without as much as a stutter. He couldn’t say where it had come from or why he knew it but once it was out he knew that it was correct. Even saying it out loud now that he was alone there was a certain sense of rightness to it. His name was Azrael. He might not know anything else but at least now he had a name. Maybe with time he would learn more. -------------- After the attack the farmer had looked down at the one time aggressor. Azrael could see in his eyes a mixture of fear and relief that turned to pity when they returned to his savior. He wondered what the man would make of the rescue; he hadn’t been sure what to make of it himself. It had all happened without so much as a thought, like he was an arrow fired to punish the punks that had thought to harass the innocent man. Something within him had urged him to become judge, jury, and executioner. He had been merciless, only stopping when the threat was gone. The scariest thing was that part of him had enjoyed it. Within thirty seconds the blood lust was gone and his mind again became numb. He could feel the fog creep up and take hold of his mind once more. Try as he might he couldn’t push through it and it only served to frustrate him further. The farmer stood for a long moment and just stared, his eyes slowly roaming to Azrael’s blood soaked hand. The creak of the door broke through the silence and a girl who looked to be in her early twenties stood there looking over the scene. “Grandpa? Is everything ok out here?” she spoke up. The old man looked over his shoulder and tried to step in front of the gore to block her view. Try as he might though Azrael could feel her eyes lock on to him. “Naomi, go on back in the house dear. Everything is fine.” He replied. The girl stood for a moment and looked the newcomer over with a look of distrust before listening to her grandfather’s command. The man turned back toward the lost one and offered a smile. “Come on son, you look like you could use a place to stay. Come on inside and we will get you some clean clothes and a hot shower.” He put an arm around the stranger and led him up the stair into the house. “Go on ahead upstairs. Martha will leave some towels for you by the door. When you come down we’ll have a bite to eat.” Azrael gave the kind man a look of incredulity. “Why?” The man’s eyes sparkled as he turned to respond. “Son, I don’t think you realize just how much I owe you. Now, no more talk of this until you get cleaned up.” There was nothing more he could say, and so he listened. ------------------------- Wc: 502 Twc: 502/1800 |
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| Azrael | Nov 4 2014, 11:57 AM Post #3 |
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Wordslinger
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Now here he stood, in the bathroom of a strangers house staring into a mirror. For the first time since his awakening he was able to take a moment and gather himself and he had realized when the mirror caught the corner of his eye he wasn't even certain he knew what he looked like. So he took a good hard look and the figure that looked back at him was a stranger. It was as if his reflection was an entirely different person. The first thinn to draw his attention were the dark emerald green eyes that seemed to glimmer as they mofocused. Those eyes were the eyes of a man who knew who he was, not the frightened and confused eyes that he was sure were his own. His gaze then traced up to the layers of thick black hair that cascaded down to contour his face perfectly, falling like silk sheets around the firm, square jaw. The jaw was set and up as if he were the type to command respect. Once again a far cry from what he must truly be. Above the jaw and strong chin was something he knew couldn't exist on his own countenance. A charismatic smile with teeth like ivory behind a pair of lips that seemed to have been perfectly matched. The more he looked at the mirror the more he questioned if it was just a painting that he had mistaken. He was certain that it had to be a mistake. Eventually the heat from the running water filled the room with steam and the stranger in the mirror was completely gone. He wiped away the fog to find that the stranger was gone and in his place was a possible doppelganger. His features similar but somehow less refined. What still lingered though were the scars that flecked his body like reminders of a past life. He turned his attention then to his body, as if he was reaquanting himself with it. It was evident that however long he was in the hospital He still retained a fair bit of muscle and over that muscle was tight bronze skin. He traced his fingers over the gouges of scar and in the back of his mind he thought he saw the ravages of war. As he traced he looked into the streaked mirror again and something else caught his eye. He looked closer and then turned his head to verify. There it was, running up just a bit onto his right shoulder. A thick black line of what seemed to be ink. He turned around to get a better look and the mirror and his breath caught. His entire back was covered in the lines like a mural. The thick black ink appeared to be a tattoo of some sort and if he wasn't mistaken they traces out two wings on his back, all the way from the base of his neck to the top of his hips. It all seemed like too much. He decided that he had enough new discoveries for the moment and he would rather wash away the grime of the day. He had done his best to remove the blood from his hand but he could still feel it like a glove around him. -------- The hot waters felt like heaven he was sure. There was something about the cleansing water that brought a sense of renewal to him. It was as if he had washed away a centuries worth of hard living from himself and he felt a hundred pounds lighter. Perhaps he had needed these people more than they had needed him. He could have spent all day under the spell of the relaxing waters but he knew he couldn't escape reality forever. Reluctantly he emerged from the shower to find a New set of clothes laying on the floor, neatly folded. When he picked them up he was surprised to find them a good fit. They certainly looked nothing like the clothes that the old man had been wearing. These were a fighters clothes. The black pants were of a soft cotton, loose fitted to allow leg movement. He cinched the top with a silk cloth belt, tying it on his right hip as he somehow instinctually knew it should be. A simple sleeveless shirt fit snugly to his skin and over it he slipped on a black gui with an emblem he didn't recognize. After a moment he made his way back downstairs and into the kitchen where a plate of delicious smelling food was set out for him. The farmer and his wife sat waiting for him, their faces warm and inviting. There was something about these people that made him want to like them. They were simple, pure. They hadn't let the world cloud their vision no matter how hard things got. Azrael smiled at them, trying to emulate what he had seen earlier in the mirror. He wondered if that man was what they saw when they looked at him. He hoped it was and maybe he could be. There was something in the wife's eyes when she looked at him, but what he couldn't be certain of. He sat down in front of the food and looked over at his hosts. "Thank you, so much, for everything you are doing for me. It's good to know that there are still some decent people in this world." he said. "Son, you've done more for this family than I can even befin to say. Don't you worry about a thing, this is nothing at all. It's nice to have a young man in the house again. It feels like it's been ages." the farmer spoke up. Another young man? What could he have meant by that? "You look just like him in that outfit you know." the farmers wife chimed in. "Now Martha, don't go bothering him with any of that now." her husband spoke quickly. Azrael looked between the two of them. "What do you mean?" It was obvious the farmwr was reluctant to talk about it but eventually he caved. "Our son." "Oh? Where is he? Ill have to thank hum for the clothes." "Well, that won't be necessary. He isn't with us anymore." Azrael could tell by the way he spoke not with us meant something else entirely. "I'm sorry," he started. "Now, now. Don't you worry about it. It's in the past. But it has been different since he passed. That's about The time those thugs started coming around. He used to put them in their place, but now I guess you did a mighty fine job of that. You eat up though. If you'll excuse me I'm a bit tired. I think I'm gonna go off to bed. You coming Martha?" The man stood to leave and looked back at his wife. She nodded his direction. "You go on ahead dear. I'll be up in a minute." Her husbands face contorted for a moment before he sighed. "Alright, don't go bothering our guest with anything that's not his problem dear." She nodded and watched as he went up the stairs. As Azrael ate in silence the older woman sipped on a glass of tea. He couldn't help but notice the way her eyes kept locking on him over the rim of her cup, as if judging him. From behind that clip she spoke again her tone much more serious than earlier. He could hear the fire behind her words. "He was murdered you know. My son. That's what my husband doesn't want me to tell you. That's the reason we've been having these problems with those hoodlums. He was a fighter. He was one of the best, and they killed him in cold blood." --------- Wc: 1298 Twc:1800/1800 Quest complete |
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4:49 AM Jul 11