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Post by Merlin on Dec 23, 2012 10:53:23 GMT -5
The old wooden door creaked loudly as Merlin slipped inside the house. Early morning light was streaming through the windows, shining on the phials of strange liquids lined up on the shelves, and illuminating the thick layer of dust that covered everything. Merlin sneezed loudly as he picked up a heavy book and wiped the dust off the cover to read the title. It was a book on love charms.
He set it down and started looking around, reading the labels of the potions and flipping through books with promising titles. He needed a way back to Camelot desperately. He was having trouble focusing in this new place, forever wondering and worrying how his friends were doing with the dragon attacking the city ... the dragon only he could stop.
Merlin ran a hand through his dark hair and took a seat at a table. He needed to keep looking through the magic books to see if there was a way home. He was confident that he could find it here. There were rumors that this house used to belong to a witch, and it certainly fit the part. It reminded him of Gaius' chambers, and it brought him some comfort to think of all the late nights they'd spent pouring over books just like the one he was holding. He was brought out of his reminiscing when the old door creaked again and someone came in.
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Post by Pitch on Jan 1, 2013 22:13:07 GMT -5
Pitch glided through the shadows with little to no care, Golden eyes gleaming in the ever constant stream of darkness, here in the frozen, bitter chill of nightfall he was content, peaceful, happy. There was no light in the realm of shadows, no joy or happiness to brighten the dark corners of misery and despair, there was only Pitch.
Mischief was his middle name, he brought lies and deceit with his wherever he went, hatred and misery, anguish and fear, an embodiment of evil whose mind had become black and twisted and whose ambition knew no bounds. Appearing in some darkened corner of this strange land, materializing from the shadows without a sound a wicked grin covered his face as he watched a young lad pour over spell books, obviously searching with a hidden zeal for something.
"My poor boy are you lost? Have you misplaced something?" The tone was light with a devestated edge too it, a phenomenal actor he feigned his interest, casting the bait to see if the young fish would bite down. He glided around him, circling him with such a heavy amount of sorrow in his golden eyes it was a miracle tears did not form. "What a terrible tragedy to be so alone..."
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Post by Merlin on Jan 12, 2013 7:55:06 GMT -5
Merlin was already jittery, being in a place he wasn't completely sure he was allowed to be, but the presence of the stranger had sent him over the edge, jumping at sudden movements. There was something about the stranger that was sending warning bells ringing in Merlin's head. While the man looked nice enough, past experience told the young warlock that this meant nothing. Still, he had done nothing to warrant the concern, so Merlin took a deep breath to steady his nerves and decided to trust the stranger "Uh, well, yes. I suppose you could say I'm lost," he said with a slight smile. "I'm not from this world, and I was hoping that I would find a way to get home in one of these." He motioned to the stacks of books, then looked back to the other man. "This ... this isn't your home, is it? I didn't mean to intrude. I just really need to find a way back to my friends." With any luck, the stranger could help him find that way, since everyone else he'd spoken to since arriving in Aldeon hadn't been any help. |
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Post by Pitch on Jan 12, 2013 13:51:28 GMT -5
Pitch prided himself on being a creature of unpredictability, lies, and deception. A wonderful actor who could fake the most sincere of emotions with little more than a flicker of false emotions through his eyes. He seemed to almost glide across the floor, his pale skin reflecting the scattering beams of light that entered through the decrepit little shack. He had no qualms with this new world, he still commanded the shadows and his fingers still orchestrated a symphony of fear... and here, where magic was a very real and very powerful thing, his powers did not wane because children did not believe in him. Thin, ghostly fingers ran across the dust covered spine of one of the books, feeling the rigid textures and smiling.
"I doubt you will find the answers you seek in one of these lost tomes." He pulled his fingers away, rubbing the tips of his fingers together to be rid of the dust. "I belonged to Earth... one of the six most powerful beings in creation there until I was sucked here, but I rather like this realm. I don't have the other five constantly foiling my...plans." His voice was a heady thing, thick and rich with just a hint of seduction to it.
"One of my talents is a manipulation of the shadows and not even they could find a way to reach Earth. It would seem we are stuck here for an indefinite amount of time. Pity really... I had quite the surprise in store for my old friends." He drawled out his tones, Pitch was not incapable of conversation, he just preferred the howls of terror over such things, but his powers... his fear, seemed to not have as great of effect as they did back on Earth, and he wished to know more about this boy before he sickened the shadows upon him.
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Post by Merlin on Jan 13, 2013 2:20:33 GMT -5
Merlin listened intently to the stranger, perking up at the mention of power. Finally, he had met someone else in this world with magic and it gave him a little hope that was quickly crushed with the man's next words. "You control shadows?" he asked hesitantly. It seemed an odd thing to be the master of, though Merlin recalled meeting someone with a similar talent. They were not the sort of person he liked to associate with. "That's very interesting. Are you a warlock or something?"
He wondered if he should mention his magic to this stranger. Surely he could trust a fellow sorcerer to keep his secret, but there was no telling what he'd do. Merlin certainly didn't like the way he spoke of his plans and of being so powerful. "There must be some way back. Some spell or something," he said, determined not to give up. He flipped through a book for a moment, then glanced back up. "Perhaps we could work together to find a way? I'm sure your ... friends are looking for you."
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Post by Pitch on Jan 13, 2013 21:12:52 GMT -5
Pitch turned away from this human, cold eyes scanning the ancient tomes, his mind lingering on none of them, cold and calloused he examined the walls, absorbed their textures... he wondered vaguely who or what had lived here to write of so much witchery and spells, that was a hidden art back on Earth... but then again he no longer lingered on Earth. A wicked, sinister smile curled his lips as the boy accused him of such practices, but Pitch knew no magic, and when he turned back to face the boy, the madness was gone and in its place, the most false of sincerities.
"I'm afraid not child. I posses no magic, nor have I ever weaved spells, my power is simply what I am, darkness, fear... they are what compose my soul and thus I manipulate them." A sultry purr, a breathy air and as if to prove his point, shadows around the room vibrated, hummed with energy and slithered along the walls, the floor. He glided closer toward the young boy, golden eyes flickering over the text that lay in front of him. He could read most any text, being alive for centuries left one with quite a vast majority of free time.
"I have no friends, and an empty realm to return too. I have no desire to leave this world of rich delights, here my power does not wane based on the beliefs of children. Here I am my own master, I require no aid to fuel my fear... I will not be returning." He purred into the empty room. Here he could be king when darkness fell, he could rule the night and no one would be the wiser, he would never have to rot inside his realm again.
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Post by Merlin on Jan 19, 2013 7:59:08 GMT -5
It was becoming increasingly obvious as their conversation wore on that this stranger would not be an ally. It surprised Merlin a little. Everyone he'd met in this new world had been more than friendly with him, and he foolishly believed he wouldn't run into trouble here. But then, maybe this was his reason for being here. Maybe he needed to save this world from the stranger and then he would be returned to his own. It was not a strong possibility, but he held onto the idea as he watched the shadows move and the man come closer, blocking Merlin's path to the door.
"I don't want any trouble," he said calmly, backing up into a bookcase. It occurred to him that his powers may not work in this realm, or even on this stranger. He was already weary of telling people of his abilities, and the man seemed stronger than he was. His best option appeared to be talking his way out of the house until he could be sure he had a chance at fighting him.
"My only concern is getting home. Whether or not you go back to your own is none of my business. And seeing as you've been so kind as to tell me I won't find help in these books, I see no need for me to stay here. I'll just be on my way." He took a tentative step forward, praying the man would move out of the way and let him go.
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Post by Pitch on Jan 20, 2013 13:49:21 GMT -5
A wicked grin coiled at the corners of Pitch's mouth. His golden eyes flickering in the poor light. Cold and callous there was no warmth in his gaze nor kindness in his soul. His heart was black and twisted and his ambition... knew no bounds. He could taste the man's fear... or perhaps not quite yet fear but anxiety? It mattered little, it seeped into his flesh like the most euphoric of drugs and he shivered. Such power flowed through his veins and in this land of magic, he needed no children to believe in him, here he maintained his power himself. Such a delicious world this was. He turned his back on the young man as he made a hasty retreat and with a flick of his wrist a great black stallion contrived of fear and shadows lingered in the doorway of the small hut. The whinny's and cries of its brethren erupted from outside the hut. Each composed of fear and darkness, one single touch and they plummeted you into your worst nightmare. Pitch's laughter was dark and cold.
"Going somewhere and here I thought we were getting along fabulously... tell me dear, what are you afraid of?" His voice was rich and smooth, cooing and beckoning the boy to play, finally, finally he abandoned the books and slowly moved across the small hut. The horses pawed the ground, restless and shifting, creating a litany of noise just beyond the hut, they waited, anxious and impatient for a command and Pitch drew ever closer to the boy.
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Post by Oswald the Lucky Rabbit on Mar 5, 2013 15:51:15 GMT -5
Suddenly, what appeared to be a bolt of lightning flew straight at one of the Nightmares, stunning it instantly. Unknown to either Pitch or Merlin, the lightning was really a beam of pure electricity from the remote of the one and only Oswald the Lucky Rabbit.
"Why don't folks like you ever pick on folks your own size," Oswald asked of Pitch, smiling cockily.
Oswald through an already broken window of the cottage and punched Pitch in the gut.
Oswald twirled his trusty remote in his hands, aimed it at Pitch, and said, "You feelin' lucky, punk? If not, leave the kid alone."
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Post by Pitch on Mar 5, 2013 18:31:17 GMT -5
(((OOC: We may have to start a new thread, Merlin hasn't logged on in quite some time)))
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