Author Topic: Brightpoint (working name)  (Read 1110 times)

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saltmummy626

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Brightpoint (working name)
« on: August 29, 2016, 10:26:38 pm »
What I am about to post is very long, or so I've been told. I have some friends who were supposed to read through this and basically pick it apart for me. That was a month and a half ago, they still haven't done it. Instead, I have decided to toss it in the direction of Utterly Mad and see what happens. What I desperately need from you, is to just read. At your own pace. Give feedback. I want this story to be right, and to make it right, I need feedback. Please do not comment on spelling or grammar, I'll correct it myself later. What I need is what you feel are the weakest points, what about the strongest points? Where are the plot holes? Are there bits I should axe? Most of all, I just need to see what people think. My other friends have no time for this, and I trust most if not all of you enough to put it here.

I'll be throwing it up a few paragraphs at a time.

Ferret considered, not for the first time, returning to Bright point. She thought about how much safer she would be in Bright point. Bright point was bitterly cold, but it wasn't as damp or infested with the undead as the bleak coast. It hadn't always been called that of course. Not long before the birth of her great great grandfather, Bha-Yahn had not gone into decline, Gulgatha's capital hadn't yet sunk into the ocean, and the ravening horde had not yet breached the Paint Valley. Back then, it had been called "The Gulgatha Grazelands." Shortly after breaking through the forest on the overgrown southern coast road, Ferret crested a low hill and found that her objective had come into view. Peeking out from beneath the thick fog that hung over the swamp of tears, was the Tower of Gulgatha. The land below had not always been swamp, and the city of Gulgatha's descent into the ocean had not been gradual. It had been a disaster. On an early winter night, the land had suddenly given way and an entire region of farms and grazelands had slipped several feet. Guglathas residents found themselves neck deep in salt water. Many had drowned, many more froze to death with no homes to seek refuge in. Those that survived went south, but did not dare to approach Bha-Yahn. Bha-Yahn had no idea of the doom that had come to Gulgatha, and the displaced Gulgathans had their doubts that they would be welcomed in the city of their long time enemies. Besides, Bha-Yahn had it's own doom to deal with. For Ferrets part, she had seen Bha-Yahn, and had given the diseased and dying city a wide berth. Below, in the leaning tower, she could see a flickering light. Possibly the camp fire of some hermit. Her goal had been to go to Gulgatha and see what had become of the home of her great grand father and to reclaim an heirloom seized by the Ateshites in those long ago days so she might make use of it, but that light gave her pause. Was their still someone down there in that drowned tower? The light gave her an odd forboding feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she determined to set off at once. She had to cover some ground that day, and wished to reach at least one of the farms on her grandfathers old map. Speaking of which, She took off her small pack and knelt over it. From inside she took said map, and a sheaf of notes. Both of which she had pilfered from the her fathers old things. After a quick glance at the map and replacing it, she looked through the notes. They had been written by her father, her great grandfather, and another traveler to this region. A deceptively young appearing man by the name of Stam Dalenson. A friend to Ferrets family and tutor to a great many of Bright Points young people. The sword at her hip had been a gift to her on her 16th birthday. "An item from my own collection." he said, "A girl can use a sword as well as a man, and in these dark times she may have more need of it than for dresses and jewelry." Her mother had scowled at the well kept steel blade. Swords, her mother believed, did not belong in the hands of women. Ferret had given the short sword a few testing swings when Stam had stopped her. "A short sword is not for swinging girl. Rather, it is for short cuts and stabs. I will show you some day." Stam had not the time to show her on that occasion before he left to journey into the ruin lands again. Later though, he had taught her a great deal. The notes detailed a few of the hazards to be found in the swamp, and hazards to be found in the city itself. The most common of these were swamp lights, and corpses which had sunk into the bog and lain dormant even after the magical taint in the land had reanimated them. She put the notes away and looked back down towards the sunken city and noted that the light in the tower had gone out and that the morning sun, just cresting the hills in the west, had burned off a bit of the fog. She slipped her pack back on and adjusted her belt. It would be a long day.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:00:32 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

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saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #1 on: August 29, 2016, 10:49:17 pm »
It slithered between the buildings, a hulking serpent of bone and metal with the skull of the great temple wolf upon it's head, in so far as it had a head. In truth, the skull was simply the centerpeice of it's adornment and the teeth with which it bit and tore. Beneath it was situated a variatable hedge of broken bone, horn, and the shattered remains of the various weapons brought against it. "It" was a demon. One of Gulgatha's tainted residents, and though you wouldn't know it by looking, beneath the rows of scavenged bones and broken armor, there was a mass of tangible darkness. When the city had flooded, it had been little more than an imp pulling small objects from the pockets of drunks. Afterwords though, he had drunk in the resulting energies. So many dead, so much to consume. He had grown large on the cities dead. He dipped beneath the water for a moment, long enough to ambush one of the large birds that nested on the sunken walls, but had come down for food. It had almost escaped him when it noticed his approach, the waters had recceeded in recent years and hiding beneath them had become more difficult. He considered going outside those walls today. Perhaps he would find one of the living looking for treasures in one of the farm houses again. The thought of the ones he had found the month before would have made him smile in fondness, had he a mouth that could smile. They had been dressed in clothes decorated with feathers and wearing skulls like the one he had adorned himself with. Perhaps they had done so to disguise themselves? Or maybe to appease him? Either way, it had not helped them. Among them had been a woman, her screams as he dealt with the others had been as music to him, and he found it a great shame that necessity required him to squeeze the wind from her lungs and in so doing deprive her of the air needed to create such a sweet sound. He consumed their fleeting life force, and later had watched as their bodies rose from the murk and wandered off into the foggy swamplands. Thinking of eating brought his thoughts to the tower. It galled him. Something was in there, he knew, he could feel it. Something old and powerful and oh, how he would gorge himself if he could only gain entry. Alas though, the tower was sealed to him and his ilk. Someday though. The demon drifted on towards the shattered eastern gate, day dreaming of what might dwell within the tower or what he might find out in the flooded countryside, and the sound of screams still ringing in his memory.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:00:51 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #2 on: August 29, 2016, 10:50:00 pm »
Ferrets footing slipped on something beneath the mire. A stone maybe. It was not the first time one of the stones hidden beneath, their surfaces coated in the thick slime of the swamp, had tripped her up. The least she hoped for, was that she wouldn't get stuck again and this time she was pleased to find that she was not. Still, the slip had only added to the water soaking into her clothes and filling her boots. The mosquitoes were not yet an issue, but she knew from Stam's notes that they would be, come evening. Thinking of Stams notes, she realized that her pack would probably be filled with water. She hoped it wasn't, and when she checked the outcome was distinctly opposed to the last time she hoped for something. The water had drained quickly through the seams in her pack, but before doing so had fouled Stam's notes, her grandfathers map, and several other supplies she had brought along. "Bah!" she cried, casting aside most of the contents of her bag. As she did so, she had the feeling that she was no longer alone. She could not yet see them, but she knew they were there all the same. Their kind had followed her through the woods bordering the cold desert. When the sun had set, she thought they would have shown themselves, but they had only whispered or laughed in the dark. The undead. They were thick in this land. Such bodiless spirits as had harassed her in the woods were commonplace, as were the variaty she saw now. Emerging from the thick fog from whence she  came. A group looking almost like old militia men, Wearing the uniforms Gulgatha's ancient regular army. They came in crude formation, a wall of copper chain links and bone. A skeleton from the front suddenly broke away from the group and stopped short by a few feet, brandishing a rusted sabre. "Vaads yeh waads?" came the buzzing whisper from somewhere beneath it's skull. Ferret could't think of what to do. Somehow, these were different than any of the undead she had encountered on this side of breakers endeavor pass. More menacing, yet somehow less threatening. The skeleton stood still, it's saber held at it's side. Words of her tutor came back to her in that moment. "When you speak not the language of the land, and find yourself at the mercy of that lands guardians, raise your open hands to them. It is a gesture of harmlessness, and accepted as such from bright point to the cities of the rat kind and even across the sea in Zantia or the plaguelands." She doubted it would work, but she couldn't possibly take on this many. She raised her hands to the level of her eyes, palms open and facing outwards. There was a long moment. "Vaa-a-adss...s.." It's speaking was labored, and ferret could see that the bones could no longer hold themselves together. The skeleton dropped it's saber, staggered, stumbled on something beneath the murk, and fell apart. The others, had already done similar or were in the process of doing so. "They just can't keep going." Ferret said aloud, lowering her hands. "Just bones in the swamp." She didn't know why, but there was something sad about what she had just experienced. These undead had lain in wait for none knew how long, only to burn through whatever energy held them together and kept them somewhat sentient in the time it had taken them to approach her and seemingly ask a question. They had clung to whatever form of life they now had in the hopes of continued service to whatever master had bound them. The fog thinned then and out in the swamp, she spied an old farm house resting on a barren mudbank well above the water level. The weather had become overcast since that morning earlier when she had looked down at the shrouded ruin in the swamp. She only looked back to where that old contingent had collapsed and though she felt deeply for them, she did not weep for the dead and for the plight they faced after death, and so the sky chose to do so for her.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:01:13 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #3 on: August 29, 2016, 10:50:39 pm »
By the time she reached the farmhouse, the rain was coming down in sheets. The farmhouse was ancient, but once inside Ferret found that it was quiet dry. Well kept in fact, for the most part. It sported a fire place and more surprisingly, there was dry wood at hand. In short order she had a good fire burning in the hearth. She had been soaked through by her day in the swamp and the gentle warmth of the fire gave a welcome respite. Once she had warmed up a bit, she took stock of her surroundings. The farm house was sturdily built and sparsely furnished. She closed her eyes and, as Stam had explained in his notes, waited. The purpose, as Stam Dalenson had written, was to try and feel the "intent" of ones surroundings. The lands beyond the cold desert had a palpable sensation of threat to them that one could feel simply by concentrating and listening. She felt nothing more than the warmth of the fire and the damp still clinging to her clothes. She smelled the dull aroma of old wood and the astringent scent of burning pine, and the only sounds she could make out were the low crackle of the fire, the rythem of her own breathing, and the heavy drone of the rain on the shingled roof. The house, such as it was, was safe. She removed her clothes and set them before the fire to dry. Folded up on a shelf was found a large, thin blanket and wrapping herself in it, Ferret decided that she would hole up here until the weather cleared, or at least lessened.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:01:26 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #4 on: August 29, 2016, 10:51:20 pm »
The demon had felt something in the swamp as soon as it had emerged from the ruins of the great gate. Something moving around out there. The thing disrupted the waters and those that slept beneath. The imps brought it whispers of a young female traveling alone outside the city. The demon had been idling, coiled in wait, near the old mile marker indicating some long gone road when it had first sensed her drawing near. Fresh life to drink in. His movements had disturbed not a single thing, living or dead, in the swamp. Not a sound was made by the demon as the aged farm house came into veiw through the pounding rain. She was inside, and it could feel her. Asleep, yes, asleep. Easy prey. Except...  At it's approach, something here flared to life. Runes and images burned into the foundations, hotter and brighter to him than the sun itself. It hissed and recoiled. The touch of the old master was upon this place. It would wait. Such masters had no power over the living. She would leave eventually. Carefully, it coiled its bulk beneath the swamp, out of sight and away from those hot runes, and waited.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:01:39 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #5 on: August 29, 2016, 10:51:58 pm »
The rain did not let up for two nights. In that time, Ferret kept busy by exploring the house. On the shelf where she had found the blanket on the first day, she discovered several sheets of supple leather and soft fabric. She had thrown out her pack the day before and so from what she found and a heavy needle she carried with her, she fashioned a rough bag. On the second night, while eating a strip of dried meat found in a jar tucked under the farm houses single table, Ferret found a series of small iron rings and realized they were a sort of puzzle. It delighted her, but it was the sort of thing she had never been good with and so she gave it up after awhile. Before leaving, she went over her objectives. In all likelyhood, today would see her at the sunken cities eastern gate. Once she reached that, she had to make her way to the chapel of Gulgatha and find the heirloom that had been taken from her family. Ferret didn't know exactly what they were. A pair of white ceramic orbs, each about the size of a human eye. Well before Gulgatha had met it's doom, it had been home to a religion. Many religions in fact, but one in particular held a great deal of power, and was fond of excersizing that power in anyway it could. Even to the point of oppression and inquisition. The only thing holding back the church from taking full control in the city were the great houses of Gulgatha. The house of blood, ruled over by the working class. Contrary to it's menacing name, the house of blood was more about hard labor and earning ones living through the work of ones "blood." The others were the house of paints, a fairly obvious organization centered around works of art and culture, and the house of scrolls, which dedicated itself to the pursuit of knowledge at any cost. Ferret had been taught by her tutor that the great houses had become the patrons of a small organization known simply as "the historical society" when the church had begun to take a deep hold on the city. The "eyes" she was after, she had learned from old letters, were a gift from a patron in the house of paints and had been confiscated from the skull of her ancestor during a spate of religious fervor by the church in an attempt to take possession of any old Gulgathan relic they could find. Anything from old books to the false eyes of an old man or woman, it mattered very little to the church. The church, she thought, would have taken them to the chapel. It wouldn't be hard to locate. Just look to the largest of the sunken cities structures. Her plan was made then. Enter the city, locate the chapel, get inside, and take back the eyes. She believed then that it would be easy. Later, she would think back and wonder how she had ever thought that.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:01:54 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #6 on: August 29, 2016, 10:52:38 pm »
There was an odd feeling in the air as she left the farm house. Ferret checked her sword, the damp of two days before had done nothing to mar it's surface. It occured to her in the moment she examined it, that she hadn't noticed the makers mark before.  An image of a lit candle was carefully engraved into the blade just above the handle. The opposite sides image she had noticed. A deer skull. When she looked back up from her blade, she half expected to see something approaching out of the fog. Instead, the feeling ended, vanishing as quickly as it had come. Her sword was sheathed, but she kept her hand on it just in case.

It looked towards the house as it had for the last two nights. It was the second day it had waited. Today, as the rain eased off, the door suddenly opened. The girl emerged slowly, blinking away the sparse light, and then stopped. It doubted that she could see him through the fog, but she suddenly seemed warry. Had she some idea of his presence? The demon determined to take her quickly then and there, but what she did next gave him pause. She drew out her weapon. Normally, he would have simply ignored it, he was an old thing and while weapons could do him harm, he had no fear of them. This, was different though. To her it was only a weapon, but to him it was a shining brand. Steel! The young woman had steel in hand! He would not attack her openly, knowing full well that the steel would surely be his end or a serious injury should she land a solid strike upon the body beneath his meticulously constructed shell. He slid back into the water once again and thought. He would follow her and see. When he felt she was most vulnerable, he would strike. He was more curious now than he had been when he had first sensed her days before, but he could not risk his being simply to be fed on such a small morsel.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:02:10 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #7 on: August 29, 2016, 10:53:26 pm »
Her brief experience outside the farmhouse had her thinking about her lessons. Stam had gotten around to teaching her the basics of using the sword he had given her. Telling her again and again that a short sword was not for swinging. Ferret was bound and determined to make it work though, be it from stubborness or the possibility that she was a poor student. Stam believed it to be the prior, but in truth it was a little of both. On one occasion a mere month prior, she had tried a parry on the imposing man. He brought his own short sword in for a quick stab, she allowed the blade to slip past the outside of her sword. As the bards blade came mere inches from her side, Ferret had thrown her sword arm wide, knocking her tutors weapon away, reversed the movement of her hand, and made a brutal angular slash for Stam's waist. He had simply grimaced, snatched her wrist, and struck her on the side of her face with the flat of his sword, hard. When she attempted to recoil, he wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her close. In such a position, she saw, she could not use her weapon effectively. Moreover, she found it difficult to breath. Her tutor had also tightened his grip on her wrist and pulled that arm high behind her head. "You are reckless. Such a maneuver is promising, but with such a weapon it is unacceptable for regular combat." he released her wrist and continued, "I had a friend once who was just as reckless. There are many differences between the two of you, the most important though was that he had no life to lose and so did not fear death." "I do not fear death!" She had managed to squeek, trying to wipe the blood welling up from the cut on her cheek while also slapping at the arm restricting her throat. Stam simply looked at her and said "Maybe, but you do have a life to lose. Such a thing is not to be thrown away, It doesn't last forever. Ah, but how would I know? I am not yet gone from this world." Releasing the throat lock on his pupil, He had looked like a man realizing a terrible truth that he had already faced many times before. He had the look of haggered despair. The lesson that day had ended early and after Stam had applied salve to the face of his young student, the first he had taught the ways of war in many years (though she did not know this), Stam Dalenson told her of what was happening in the world. "Perhaps," he broke out of the current topic of conversation with, "perhaps, perhaps... We trained duelists in a fighting style similar to the way you seem obsessed with using, perhaps if we weighted your blade..." Later that day, Stam removed the steel swords iron crossguard and wooden handle and replaced them with a slightly longer carved, double handed, bone grip with a heavy brass basket. The lessons of that day had been short, but informative. In the time since, she had adapted, and while she could not ever hope to match him she knew that Stam Dalenson looked on her improvement with satisfaction and not a little surprise.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:02:55 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #8 on: August 29, 2016, 10:54:04 pm »
The east gate was not as expected. Ruined, yes, but ferret had expected some kind of huge wooden door. What came into view, almost as if it had suddenly materialized there, was a thing akin to the gate of the cemetery at bright point only on a much larger scale. The disaster that had befallen the city of her forefathers had taken the gate out of alignment, and collapsed the stone arch above it. Time had placed a thick coating of rust and moss on the gates bars in a fashion that was rather pleasant. Stretching away on either side of the gate was the crumbling wall of Gulgatha, a simple construction of mortar and roughly hewn stone blocks. Ferret clambered over the pile of large stones. The gates bars were close enough together that no man could squeeze through, but from what she remembered of the notes she had been forced to throw away, she wouldn't need to. When the city had sunk, the refugees had been forced to cut several bars to escape. In short order, she found the opening. The fog was thinner within the city and the stench of the ocean was greater, it was easy to see that Gulgatha's under city had fared better than it's overcity. Red bricks and moldering beams lay in piles, spilling into the streets. In many places, Ferret could see the water was deeper. She guessed the street beneath had given way in spots. Veiwing the ruins gave her a terrible thought. "What if the chapel is flooded?" She had to hope that it was not, if it was, the quest would likely come to an end with her returning home empty handed. That hurdle would have to be dealt with when it came. For now, she would explore. The first safe, interesting, looking building she came to seemed to be some kind of luxeries shop. The verdigrised sign above the stores broken display window read, "Belmot's Aromatics." Ferret could see the dull gleam of brass finery still standing in the window where it had been left. Despite the state of building and the strong stink of salt, the shops own pungence cut through the open air as if a stiff breeze had swept through the store and carried it's product out into the street. The shop contained a Ratkind sultan sized trove of incense she learned. Bright Point bought a great deal of incense from the ratkind city of Algol-Mal to trade to merchants from Zantia. Her mother was a great user of incenses around the house, as was every house wife of Bright Point. She couldn't stand the stuff personally, but she scooped up several jars and bottles of various thick pastes and small wooden boxes or tubes of scented sticks. These she stashed in her makeshift bag. Ferret may not have liked the stuff much but they would make nice enough gifts. She had come here for a very specific purpose, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick through the ruins while she was at it. For the rest of the day, she walked the foggy flooded streets of Gulgatha parusing various shops, but didn't find much more worth helping herself to. Casually making her way around holes in the avenues. Occasionally, she would come to some blocked off section of streets and would bypass them taking shortcuts through or over the various homes and businesses. The image her exploration of Gulgatha painted of the people who lived in it before quickly filled in. The city still had it's dangers of course. As she ducked through an open window on the second floor of some inn or bar, a skeletonized body suddenly sprang to life and lunged for her. She had managed, barely, to draw her sword and smash it's outstretched left arm in the same movement. It still collided with her, sending them both sprawling upon a chair whose age weakened frame splintered beneath them. Her sword had spun away from her as she fell, coming to rest at the foot of another approaching skeleton, which recoiled from it, giving her the time to deal with the one atop her. It flailed and bit, but couldn't get a solid grip. Ferret managed to push herself up to her elbows and kicked at it, scattering it's ribcage. The aged skeleton chose that moment to give up and collapsed back into a pile of bone. The other had finally managed to get past the repulsive steel, only to be met with a vicious blow delivered at the end of a chair leg. It staggered, clutching it's newly cracked jaw, and then collapsed against the wall. Ferret found a hasty retreat from the inn through the same window she had entered when she discovered that the place was filled with more undead eager to protect the establishment they had likely died in. On another occasion she had been turned back from one path by a vaguely human shaped thing dressed in rags. It had come down out of an alley, whispering to her. She had drawn her sword and it had covered it's face but had not backed away. She took the time its moment of distraction had given her to make a quick getaway. The undead were not the only creatures which called Gulgatha home. Again and again she encountered small black creatures which hid themselves away in dark places and wore bones. Stam had described the imps of Gulgatha to her once, had even shown her one, so she knew they were not a threat except to her possessions. Ferret had also encountered many birds, and the city was alive in some places with the sound of frogs. Fish too were numerous, both large and small. More than once her stumbling about had scared up great schools of shining silver scaled fish. Indeed, there was as much life as their was unlife in the sunken city.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:03:13 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #9 on: August 29, 2016, 10:54:33 pm »
The demon had somehow lost her as she had approached the chapel. The little thing carried steel, which was dangerous enough, but as the demon stalked her through the streets of the ruined city, it found that his quarry had a distinct affinity and cautious curiousity for the city around her. She would often duck into one building for many minutes, sometimes as long as an hour. Other times, she simply reappeared up the avenue from the building the demon had seen her enter. Once, finding her path blocked, she found an access ladder in a back alley and used the rooftops to traverse a long stretch of hazardous lanes. The demon wasn't worried about her skill as a fighter though. It had seen her at work on a small group of feral undead that came across her coming out of a tumble down lamp wrights. He wasn't keen on being struck with a steel blade all the same, but believed that he could easily dispatch the young woman without her landing a single of her wide, clumsy slashes on his person. The trick now, was finding her. Once she had entered the city, his senses had failed him. It was a problem completely alien to him. He could always feel the life of everything within his lair, but now in the streets of the city it had ruled over, the demon could feel not a single step of her. It would lie in wait and see if she would turn up again.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:03:30 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #10 on: August 29, 2016, 10:55:14 pm »
Most of the buildings Ferret had wanted to explore had been in fairly poor shape and too dangerous to consider entering, the chapel of Gulgatha included. The old chapel was a massive structure, towering over the ruined factories that bordered its grounds. The chapel yard had been easily accessable, but the chapel itself was another problem entirely. The doors alone were massive, probably ornamental and never intended to give entry. It didn't take long to find the chapels smaller access doors set into the larger ones though, but Ferret found them to be blocked, stuck, or possibly locked from the inside. "Great." she had said aloud to no one in particular. The chapel had no ground level windows, not anymore anyway. Ferret could see where windows may have once been, but some long ago priest had decided to have them blocked up with bricks. The only other access she could see was the shattered stained glass window, an entry too high to even attempt. "If I had wings I could do it." she thought, "I'll need to find another way." It didn't get her down much though, she could see that the high water mark in the church yard was fairly low, and judging by the condition of the old place, the inside was probably in decent shape, dry even. The huge wooden gate had probably swelled when the flooding occured and sealed the chapel against serious water damage, and though the salty air had not been kind to any of the iron work she had seen within Gulgatha so far, it had certainly done little to diminish the strength of the great doors fittings. There was a moment, as she glanced about the yard, where she noticed that Gulgatha's well ordered streets had given way to more labyrinthine arrangement and the domiciles and small businesses had given way to warehouses, manufactories, and flats. She found it odd that a chapel should be found in such a part of the city. It was a long time before she moved on from her destination, and when she did, she did so feeling deeply disappointed.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:04:02 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #11 on: August 29, 2016, 10:56:42 pm »
One of the exceptions to her stymied exploration, was a stately old brick and wood faced building wrapping itself around what she believed to be one of the cities many circular garden cul de sacs. The other buildings, mostly small stores with living spaces above them by the looks, also seemed to be relatively in tact other than the broken glass which made their display windows look like jagged mouths screaming at the much larger building across the courtyard. The water was fairly shallow in the place, shallow enough that she could tell the large building was probably dry inside. The front door, an elegant carved oaken portal, took some pulling and prying to get open which was mostly due to corrosion in the hinges and severe warping of the wood and door frame. Once it was open enough for her to get though, Ferret squeezed herself into the front hall of a museum of some kind. The front of this old building had no windows at street level and no sign, at least not anymore, that should could see to identify it. In here though, she found a great deal of information. A short stone pedastel sat a few feet from the door, and bolted to its top was a brass plaque stating, in large simple letters "Welcome and enjoy to all those who wish to enlighten themselves as to the mysteries of the past and a warm welcome to those who would preserve it." Under this was engraved "Malory Maplesdottor - Director of the Historical College." Beyond the pedestal was a larger room, filled with broken display cases, old pedasels with more brass plaques, and a floor covered in broken glass. Light coming in through the windows high above showed Ferret that a great many of the displays and artifacts were either missing, or in some way damaged. She walked the aisles, stepping lightly among the broken glass, reading plaques and looking at what was still there to look at. The great skeleton of some large creature, a collection of pot shards, a slab of engraved stone whose runes seemed to swim before her eyes, a glass bead necklace, and even a ceramic hand still under glass. That last interested her greatly. The hand appeared to be very delicate and glazed in some kind of dark blue with red starbursts decorating it. The plaque on the case read, in small letters, "Hand of the Dancer - Piece of a Golem, recovered after the churches destruction of the original relic." Ferret shivered. There was something oddly dreadful about that small artifact, and so she moved on again. It didn't take long for Ferret to discover the main staircase, just off the main chamber, and another gallery on the second floor. Here and there, she would peek into a room in one of the many passages that was seperate from the main display rooms and was surprised to see a variaty of living quarters, meeting rooms, and offices. One pair of particularly decorative double doors led to an auditorium whose ceiling had begun to sag but had so far held under the weight of time and the abuses of nature. Moss has laid claim to the carpet in that room, while a tiny forest had begun to spring up through one corner of the stage. Sea water could not stop some of the plant life it seemed. In what appeared to be some kind of examination room back on the ground floor, she found something more interesting. The rooms tables had been pushed aside to make room for a large upright stele. It curved pleasingly, but otherwise was fairly amateurish in it's decoration. On the surface of the stelle was engraved an image of three large figures and many smaller figures. In the center was a man in simple, loose clothes. His face bore no detail save for an image which matched the sigil on her sword, wearing a wild headdress that looked like a mane of feathers, tufts of hair, hanging bone, and fur. Right of him was an imposing male figure in some kind of bird mask and wearing a feathered hat much like that worn by her tutor, and at his left was a ponytailed woman carrying a chisel, brush, and a deceptive grin. Below them was a rough image of a city and on either side of that city was an army of tall figures opposite a disorganized horde of skeletal beings and men. The two forces stared across the stelle at each other. Even the artists amateur hands had been able to express the open malice in the eyes of both sides. There were words on it, but she couldn't quiet make them out. She reached out to try and make sense of what she was seeing when someone spoke from behind her. "Excuse me, are you actually alive?"
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:04:15 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #12 on: August 29, 2016, 10:57:20 pm »
Her name, had been Lydia Balsam. Her title in the historical sociaty had been "journeyman historian." Being imperfect, Lydia had been around for a long time. She had spent her first couple decades of imperfection in her body, but as time had gone on it became increasingly clear that she wouldn't have it forever. She made up for her rapidly deteriorating appearance by wearing masks with hoods, and donning rather modest long sleeved clothes with gloves. One day, as she went through her regular routine of examining artifacts and regularly cursing her own existence, her body had simply collapsed, leaving her standing at her work table unable to manipulate her tools. The associate who had come to check her reports had found her that way, staring down at herself. She remembered that his first remark had been, rather tactlessly, "Well... at least you won't be so unpleasant to be around anymore." It had taken some time after that, but eventually she learned to manipulate things by will, a practice she never mastered, and to alter her own appearance which she also never quiet mastered. For her own feelings on the matter, she liked that she didn't need her spectacles anymore and she didn't have to sleep, drink, or eat. Back in those days, as a historian, it was a blessing. Sort of. Now that there was no one around though, it was a curse. A curse of loneliness and a meaningless existence. Gulgatha had become dangerous to her as well. The streets where people had gone about their day to day business as she looked on unseen, had filled with demons and imps, eager to drink in her vital essence. She had hidden herself away, looking out through windows only to veiw the devastation wrought upon the city. They said that Gulgatha had started it's existence as a necropolis, the evidence of her spectral eyes suggested that it had returned to that ancient state.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:04:41 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

saltmummy626

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #13 on: August 29, 2016, 10:58:43 pm »
Ferret's first response was to be startled, her second was a brief moment of terror after she had spun about, scrabbling at her belt to try and draw her sword. She felt a great deal of panic, but could see that the woman, who would identify herself as "Lydia," was visibly excited. Ferret had finally managed to draw her sword, and though it's appearance was clearly of some discomfort to Lydia, it could not wipe the look of joy she bore. "Please, please," she said, turning her head from something ferret couldn't see, "put it away please, it pains me to look at it. I don't want to hurt you, It's been too long a time since I've spoken to anyone to want to harm you. I'm Lydia. Who are you? Where do you come from? Why are you here? Where are you going?" and a flood of other questions. Her sincerity was disarming, and Ferret found it difficult to be terrified of such earnestness. "I... Sorry, could you slow down a bit?" The situation was bizarre, never had she ever thought of the possibility of encountering someone reasonable, alive or dead, in the ruins of the city.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2016, 11:04:53 pm by saltmummy626 »
I'm really just a sexy skeleton in a suit.
Fingering techniques are very important
Quote from: Six
Using guns while sober? Sounds like you're a coward.
Yes, little hats for every noodle.
Everyone is forks it seems.
"Everything is fucked forever, and ever, and ever." -Forrest 2016

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Re: Brightpoint (working name)
« Reply #14 on: August 29, 2016, 10:59:01 pm »
Spoilers are hard to read on my phone, I will read it on the morrow.
Thanks Peri for making me question muh sexualities once again.
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