Azuran

Writing this I had two worlds in mind...one when his eyes are open and one while they're closed. The latter is the inner struggle--like you said, sort of a dream or a memory. The beginning and the end, however, are much grounded and real, but it's unclear even to me just how real. It felt like when desperation fades back into rational thought...maybe there's both good and bad in that. And of course the last sentence is intended to make you wonder about that, or something similar. The whole thing might be a little too rushed though, I can never seem to produce adequate volume

Tanny already touched on most of this, but: Niab, a Fremen from Sietch Tabr. Rahnia's father, he's an excellent fighter and sandworm rider and has taught Rahnia many of the skills she knows. He's a little eccentric in his beliefs but usually keeps them to himself unless asked for advice.

There was some confusion/ambiguity about where this should go...feel free to move it as necessary... He stood at the edge of despair, marveling at the steady current of air blowing up at his emotionless face from the dusty rocks far below. It produced the thrilling sensation that he was already moving downwards, falling through the cool evening air. He closed his eyes and looked up out of the deep pit of his mind as dirt began to trickle down, burying thoughts and memories that clawed frantically at the sides unable to escape. His consciousness blinked and he stood frozen, the forms of hundreds swirling past him in all directions, unnoticing, uncaring. He yearned to shout at them all, his mind screaming but his lungs vacant. Gasping for breath, suffocating under the heavy layers of his own doubt, he wondered when this had happened. When had he been left behind, aching for attention without thought for well being? Ignorance wasn’t bliss, nor innocence safety. Confusion was ubiquitous and solitude manifest. The heart desires but the mind knows better. Dreams, crushed into delicate shards littering the warped floor, draw blood from his bare feet as he takes a step. The darkness rushes in around him, tearing at his face, his clothes, his heart. His eyes fly open and he trips over a small rock, half buried behind his left foot. Regret works both ways.

Tsal’s feet subconsciously took him to the old stables, his arm around Lillen, guiding her as he walked. “I’ve always come here when I needed to think...” Tsal’s voice sounded subdued by the dilapidated walls, and he suddenly felt the need to rest his legs. Lillen nodded in response as he sat down against the wall in a corner, where the timber was still sturdiest, and helped her down next to him. They talked for a while about nothing in particular until finally Lillen lay down, her head resting on Tsal’s lap, and they both drifted off in thought.

Tsal had been sitting in Johns shop, hardly moving except for an occasional reassuring touch from his arm around Lillen, who was leaning against his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, and his vision swam with the overwhelming emotions he felt by John’s death. “It’s not fair…” It was not the first time these words had left Tsal’s lips…either today or before in his life. He had lost a father once, and after his meeting with John the day before, he now felt a similar heartbreak. He felt a flicker of guilt for thinking of himself when there were others, Lillen especially, who probably felt even worse. She felt warm against his side in contrast to the cool dampness where her tears had seeped into the fabric of his shirt. With a distant sigh, he turned to Lillen, “I’ve decided……I’ve decided I want to become a carpenter.” Pausing as he wrestled with the best way to articulate how he felt, his eyes became more focused and he pushed his hair out of the way so he could clearly look at Lillen. “I think in a way John was able to open my eyes to a lot of things over the past few days, and even now I still feel his guidance influencing me. I can’t just make small carvings for the rest of my life. I need to be able to really support myself…to support a family…” He caught Lillen’s eyes and it was understood that he was talking about wanting to be with her. “Let’s go for a walk.” He stood, gently helping Lillen up as well. “I think some fresh air and some movement will help.” He handed Lillen her coat from the table and slipped into his own, the insides of the sleeves feeling chilly at first, until his body heat could warm them. Putting his arm tenderly around her shoulders, they walked slowly through the deep snow, not bothering to keep to a path. OOC: Vote for Joseph Gunalo

Despite my complete lack of knowledge about Dune (I did see the movie at some point years and years ago, but remeber just about nothing) I'm gonna try this one out...

It was becoming painfully obvious to Tsal just how quickly their numbers were beginning to dwindle. There was also a sense of failure, having been wrong about seemingly all of his suspicions so far. As often he did when he needed to think, Tsal found his way to the old stables at the edge of the woods. Two of the old wooden walls were half caved in, along with a large section of the roof, and snow had piled up on the floor inside in several places. The bright gray sky filtered through the holes and cracks, illuminating shafts of dusty air and creating brilliant sparkles where it struck the delicate crystals of fresh snowflakes. Tsal gently fell backwards onto the largest of the heaps, sinking in heavily and creating small flurries of powder on either side of him. Laying on his back, he closed his eyes and breathed in the damp smells of frozen earth and mildewed timber, taking pleasure in the natural mustiness. For better or worse, this will all be over soon. Opening his eyes again, he blinked rapidly against a small ray of daylight that played across his face, flickering in time with the rustling of the branches hanging far above the decrepit roof. The glow seemed to bloom out, filling his vision and relaxing his mind. In the distance he could hear the faint clamor of a woodpecker hammering at the bark of some bug-ridden tree, while nearby a large bough creaked under the weight of snow like a lonely sigh from nature herself. This is my home. This is all our homes. But something bothered Tsal in the back of his mind. Not all of them truly wanted to be here. Perhaps this wasn’t home for someone… Twice now I’ve heard Karen speaking out against me… Tsal sat up slowly, not bothering to brush the snow off his back and shoulders where it clung like a glistening cape, and after sweeping his hair out of his eyes he smiled—a large, free smile that can only come when the flicker of hope refuses to be extinguished. OOC: Vote for Karen.

Plural pretty princesses panted provocatively, providing personal pleasure.

(Thanks to Tanny for helping out with Lillen in this post ) So many deaths and seemingly no closer to finding the werebeast. For the moment, Tsal forced himself to turn his thoughts away from the gruesome proceedings of the last several days. Initially fear had provoked a sense of intense regret. There were so many reasons why Tsal wanted—needed—to live. But now, he had come to realization that anyone’s time could be running out, and at the very least he wanted to live for the moment he was in. He picked up the linked wooden rings from where they lay next to him on the branch and glanced over them one last time. He had spent several hours grinding them out until the wood felt almost soft from the smoothness, and had then carved an intricate pattern of leaves and vines twisting across both. Dropping it into an outer pocket of his coat he slid off the branch and set off for the tavern. He quickly discerned Lillen among the barmaids who were still half-heartedly keeping the tavern running, and surprised himself by calling her over to where he stood with an uncharacteristic confidence. “Lilly. I’d like you to have this.” Tsal withdrew the carved rings from his pocket and held it out for her. Lillen looked at him, surprised - she'd never expected him to actually talk to her in a direct way. But in seconds she graced him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on her face, taking the rings carefully from his outstretched hand. "They are beautiful, Tsal... so beautiful... thank you. I'll treasure them." Still smiling, she hugged him tightly. It took Tsal some moments to realize that Lillen had started to cry in his arms, but there was something comforting about just being there to hold her. Tsal gently brushed away Lillen’s tears with his thumb and looked her in the eyes. “We still have hope.” Her tears finally stopping, Tsal kissed her softly on the forehead. Pulling the leather lace out of his left boot, Tsal took the wooden rings from Lillen and threaded the cord through them. He then carefully reached around Lillen's neck and tied the ends together, forming a crude necklace from which the carved rings hung. Smiling one last time, he turned and retreated to his room, leaving her to manage the tavern. Sitting alone on a gnarled oak stool and looking out the one small window in his room, Tsal felt a sadness permeating his thoughts much in the way a russet dust stain clouded the edges of the glass where it touched the frame. The heavy layer of snow gave a look of false serenity to the village, serving to silently erase the evidence of the proceeding bloody events far more quickly than the memories could ever disappear. And yet Tsal felt tainted by the fear that was slowly consuming the town. Tainted by the fact that he had even suspected Granny Jammeez only to learn of her tragic fate the following morning. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. There was a growing rhythm, beating with the blood in his veins, pulsing with each blink of his eyes, yet Tsal remained calm in spite of it. He silently gazed out the grimy window and decided that there was little else he could do but go with his gut feelings at this point. For the past few days he had twisted his own mind into knots thinking about who might be the werebeast and yet he felt no more sure now than he did then. It was a wave of relaxing irrationalism that he succumbed to now. There was something peacefully easy about it. Right or wrong, just one quick, simple thought flicked through his brain. Annie… OOC: Vote for Annie

Astoundingly, another ample actress ardently allowed additional arousal.

Sighing softly, she said, “Someone’s surprisingly sexy.”

1. Colour - transparent 2. Adjective - disposable 3. Name of Male - The Great Hernaldo 4. Adjective - sticky 5. Verb (Past Tense) - tickled 6. A Profession - circus clown 7. An Exclamation - Hallelujah! 8. Adjective - enormous 9. Noun - diaper 10. Part of Body (Plural) - earlobes 11. Noun – hand grenade 12. Verb (Past Tense) - ate 13. A Hobby – invading small countries 14. Noun - banana 15. Verb (Past Tense) - cleaned 16. Name of Female – Aunt Esmerelda 17. Noun - hamburger 18. A Number – far too few 19. Adjective - floppy 20. Adverb - flamboyantly

Frankly, forty female fingers felt fantastically fascinating

Fear the infinite cycle of endless tiers Fall into perfect liquid spheres, suspended Incredulity, whence innocence burns through And through the loop of exit to entrance polls Softly at your heart, an eternal yearling ewe Can't understand why you don't

“No! Help! Don’t eat me!” Tsal mimicked a high-pitch voice for the small wooden carrot in his left hand while in his right, a second figurine, this one of a large yawning rabbit, bounced threateningly across the dusty table towards its vegetable prey. “Aiiiiii!!” The wooden bunny pounced on the carrot in victory, and Tsal returned them to the collection of carvings in the dirty cardboard box in front of him. Mildly amused but still mostly bored, he turned his attention back to the turkey sandwich he had been eating, and taking a large bite, he chewed thoughtfully. “The werebeast has struck again…” He mused out loud to himself, “and all that’s been done so far is the lynching of an innocent man and a talented smith.” Tsal had decided to trust what Lillen had told him the previous day, but if the beast wasn’t himself, it had to be someone else. The revelation had lifted quite a large weight from his mind but rekindled his determination to figure out who was responsible. He hadn’t seen the grisly sight of the latest slaughter himself, but had overheard plenty enough about Johnathan’s death just walking through the tavern earlier that day. It sure didn’t seem as if there was any rhyme or reason to the two victims so far, but in fairness Tsal hadn’t known Mark or the old tailor very well. Who would have really known both of them … “Granny Jammeez?” Despite the lack of any sign that his sandwich agreed, Tsal reasoned on, although not sounding completely convinced with his own reasoning. “Sure…is there anyone in this town that she doesn’t know well?“ Tsal looked over at the terribly small pile of wood in the corner of the room; he had already used up the few choice pieces John had given him before and the thought of wrestling with one of the gnarly remaining lumps was unpleasant. He hated to be a bother to the older man, but decided he would go see if John might spare another piece or two. Carving helped Tsal to relax and think, and he needed to do both badly. With a last sigh he grabbed his heavy jacket from the back of a chair and set off for the carpenter’s. OOC: vote for Granny Jammeez

Sighing, Tsal thought about the question carefully, trying to piece together all that had happened, when really, he already knew who how he felt inside. He had always been told he was unwanted growing up, and although he had gotten better about it lately, he still tended to fear the worst about everything. “What if it were me? I mean…of course you know I would never do anything like that on purpose, but would I even know..?” Or would anyone else for that matter…? Sure, not everybody was always friendly, but did it really seem like anyone was hiding the madness of being a werebeast…? “Five years ago it might have even made me happy, but I hope it’s not true. But I like this town too much. And the people in it…” OOC: Vote for Tsal.

Things always seemed to take a bit to sink in for Tsal, and the death of Mark was no exception. He stood just far enough away from the group around the body that he could overhear only small bits and pieces of the conversations along with the occasional outburst of tears or an accusation. It all seemed somewhat surreal to Tsal—surely this was just some horrible prank, right? Right…? He absently toyed with his new carving knife, the handle of which ironically, perhaps, had been plated with silver, and he hardly even noticed that his dark hair was obstructing most of his view. Werebeasts… The sight of Lillen comforting her friend finally triggered something in his brain and brought Tsal back to the reality of the situation, his thoughts immediately turning towards the implications for the immediate future. If Mark had been killed while leaving the bar, couldn’t it just as easily have been Lillen? He brushed his hair back and looked around, more focused and serious now. Moving from face to face he felt an impending helplessness…how could one ever really know who was responsible? Tsal slid his knife back into his coat and walked towards the group, every voice around him now carrying a veiled importance. At least one of them had to be hiding the gruesome truth, and every word or action seemed to betray hints of guilt. Tsal stopped short, hearing his own name mentioned by Karen. He had never really gotten to known Karen since he moved here, although not necessarily for lack of interest on his part. It had just always seemed that she was happy enough with her life and didn’t really give the impression of caring about Tsal one way or the other, although he admittedly had always been too shy to find out for certain. Her accusation, however, was unexpected, and Tsal’s immediate reaction was of sadness. He felt misunderstood and wished he could somehow get Karen to realize he wasn’t the monster she seemed to think. But seeing the fear in her eyes as she finally noticed him standing nearby was enough to make Tsal just start walking again. He didn’t really pay attention to where he went, but ended up next to the two barmaids, and brushing the hair out of his eyes half-successfully he forced himself to open his mouth rather than be embarrassed again by not speaking. “Hi, Lilly…Karel…” The greeting had meant to sound reassuring but had ended up almost like a question. Tsal inwardly wondered if they had already heard Karen’s accusations and if Lillen, especially, might actually believe them. Lillen looked up and gave Tsal a strained but genuine-looking smile, replying with a simple yet confident, “Hey.” In truth, she seemed more concerned about her friend’s distress than anything else at the moment. “Are you girls okay and all?” Tsal felt the question was a little stupid…it was pretty obvious that they were as okay as could be expected having found the mauled body of a man they had served at the bar often enough that it had become almost second nature. “It’s scary, I guess…to be honest I’m almost more worried that we’ll end up being our own downfall now. All this mistrust and suspicion… We might drive ourselves mad and do worse things to each other out of plain fear.” Tsal coughed nervously—he really hadn’t meant to sound that pessimistic and dark, and he tried to come up with something a little more hopeful. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, Lilly… I mean, either of you, really,” he hastily added, not entirely sure if he meant the last part but feeling it would be rude otherwise, “just let me know…” Karel was still sobbing slightly with her face leaning against Lillen’s shoulder and gave no indication that she had heard Tsal at all, but he was rewarded with a second, slightly larger smile from Lillen, who silently thanked Tsal with her eyes. Realizing that it was Lillen who was needed at the moment by her friend, and not he who was needed by Lillen, he wandered off, thinking everything over and over in his mind.. OOC: no vote yet…

Beautifully benevolent breezes break brassiere bonds O:)

What a beautiful smile… Tsal’s mind temporarily basks in the magnificence of the cute barmaid’s smile, until his brain quickly snaps out of its reverie with a frantic warning that he’s now smiling himself—and probably a little too enthusiastically, at that! He hastily makes an attempt to convert the garish grin into something a little more charming, only to have trace of panic creep into his visage at the realization that he has no idea what she was just saying, distracted as he was... Not until the girl is already gone does the invitation to the tavern finally register, and Tsal mentally curses himself for not having said something—anything at all, really—in reply. It takes several moments, and multiple unnecessary brushings of his hair out of his eyes, before Tsal recalls again why he came to see the blacksmith in the first place, and with a last lingering thought of “Lilly…” he turns back towards Adam to inquire about the price of a new carving knife.

Arriving at the smithy, Tsal finds Adam hunched intently over his anvil, while John, the town’s master carpenter, rifles through some bins on the far wall. Seemingly unnoticed by either of the two men, Tsal awkwardly waits in the middle of the room for at least a minute or two, unsure of whether the smith had heard him enter and not wanting to interrupt if he had. Eventually, Tsal lets out a short, self-conscious cough, “just to make sure,” he rationalizes, a little embarrassed at his own inability to just say something. Tsal’s cough, however, is unheard by the intent blacksmith but instead attracts the attention of John, who looks up at the sound, smiling politely as he recognizes the boy standing there. “I hope this morning finds you well, Tsal?” Opening his mouth to reply, Tsal ends up sneezing instead, quite in earnest this time, and quickly gives John a wry grin and a small wave instead. Weakly clearing his throat and brushing his hair back out of his eyes, Tsal works up the courage to speak to the carpenter, “Actually, sir,” he pauses a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, “it was just the other day that I was somewhat frustrated by the fact that it’s been rather difficult finding any good carving wood out in the forest lately. All this snowfall and such short days and all, you know, “ he trails off slightly before carrying on again. “Well, anyway, I was wondering if perhaps you might have any scraps of carving wood laying around your shop that I could use. Of course nothing too big or anything,” Tsal hastily adds, “just, you know, a piece here or there that’s not really of much use to you anymore maybe..?”

Sitting on one of the lower branches of a large tree, Tsal quietly observes the activity of the other townsfolk. Recognizing the sharp ringing of Adam's hammer, he recalls his need for a new carving knife, thinking it better to head over there soon before the smith gets too busy. Returning to the small lump of holly in his left hand, Tsal examines the almost finished figurine. It was originally supposed to be a flying falcon gripping a freshly caught squirrel tightly in its talons, but the squirrel had ended up looking more like a small, bumpy branch. The resulting effect was that of a falcon melodramatically clinging to a twig for dear life and looking at it, Tsal cant' help but chuckle softly. Sighing, he carefully slips his knife into the sheath inside his coat and slides slowly off the branch, the knee-deep snow cushioning his landing. Habitually brushing his hair back out of his eyes he trudges off towards Adam's forge, keeping a wary eye on Annie.

Allow me to introduce: Tsal A 19-year-old boy who ran away from home at the age of 14 and ended up here. Extremely shy, he spends most of his time making small sculptures and figurines from wood he finds in the surrounding forest. A few times a year he makes a journey to the city to sell what he can. He doesn't like to talk about his childhood or why he ran away, and you would be unwise to ask...

Ironically, I inferred intrinsic intelligence.

Azuran can't help but wonder what's keeping his good friend so consumed in contemplation, but smiles and waves back at Panther, an honorable guild mate in the realm of Terra and a former Legionaire of the White Rose, like the sage himself.

Azuran smiles and thanks Patham for his kind words, taking particular interest in the comment about shapeshifting, perhaps because he had just witnessed a grinning Tanny appear from where a stunning dark wolf had stood moments before (oddly enough, the wolf had hardly seemed out of place, although in retrospect it should have been quite an unexpected sight in a recruiter's office). Of course he had read many stories and legends about humans who possessed the ability to transform themselves to and from animal form at will, and had even met one or two before, but admittedly he had never actually witnessed the amazing transformation for himself! Turning back to Tanny, his expression betrayed a certain sense of relief at a good friend having come to welcome him and keep him company while he nervously awaited the arrival of Wyvern, not sure what to expect. "I hope you hadn't given up on me yet," Azuran joked. "I've just been so busy lately... For example, there are the new toys I picked up from a curio shop last week..." His voice trailed off as he searched through several of his pockets before finding the particular trinket he had in mind. Smiling broadly he held the small object out on the palm of his hand for Tanny to admire. "It's...umm...well, I've never seen such a nice...err...what is it exactly?" A glint of curiosity sparkled in Tanny's eyes, and Azuran laughed, expecting the question. The small device looked innocently like a simple paper clip, the inner part of which had been bent at a ninety degree angle from the rest. Leaning closer, however, Tanny noticed a tiny bead of glass held in the tight arc of metal, held strait up in the air only a centimeter or so above Azuran's palm. His eyes lit up with anticipation as he carefully squeezed the tiny glass orb with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, quickly drawing back immediately afterwards. Nothing happened for several seconds at least, and Tanny glanced around suspiciously, not sure if she dared to move any closer to better see if anything was happening. Slowly, however, the bead began to glow a very soft green, rapidly growing in intensity until it finally seemed to settle on a brilliant deep jade. "Isn't it cool?!" Azuran was still fascinated by the glowing trinket, despite having already spent several days understanding the sources of its power. "The woman who sold it to me called it a 'fairy lantern', although I'm pretty sure that it actually dates back to an ancient warlock who would use them as an inextinguishable torch when exploring subterranean rivers." "It's beautiful... And rather bright!" Tanny squinted her eyes slightly against the tiny source of illumination. Azuran chuckled and gave the glass a second tiny squeeze and the light vanished instantly, making the room seem almost orange in comparison. "Actually, " Azuran dug deeper into the pocket from which the fairy lantern had come, pulling out a second one, slightly smaller than the first, "I did happen to pick up two of them if you'd like to have this one?" He held out the smaller of the two for Tanny.