Thread: Portal - The Rise of a Mage (Black_Out/Iridel)

The stubble worn face of the tracker settled before her along side the dark and furry mass of the war hound as Almeta emerged from her place of hiding. A deep growl rumbled up from the depths of the war dogs throat as the eyes of the impressively large canine watched her unwaveringly. I'm not the one to ask those questions of. The ranger responded to her blurted out query. His gaze briefly left the hooded form of the meager herbalist that knew little more then a few tricks as he turned the covering edge of the deep green cloak aside and revealed a dark brown leather bag at his hip. His free hand slid away from the stroking of the tightly coiled and crouched war hound and flipped open the dark leather satchel, dipping his fingers into the depths of it. Two small black leather bags were produced, all while the intricate hand held crossbow remained pointed upon her with it's poison tipped bolt waiting for the trigger to simply be pulled. You best put those on your hands, now. He statement was more of a command then a request as he tossed the small bags at her feet. You'll need to curl your fingers up in order to fit them in the bags. His shadowy gaze peered down to the pair of hand binding black leather bags and then up to Almeta. As for why, you can ask him. His heavy obscuring hood turned to the left and gestured towards the darkness where a tall and wiry man emerged. That is Vezille, one of Merasheel's Fingers, so I suggest you watch your tongue, witch. That man didn't simply just emerge though, no, he floated a foot off the forest floor, crossing over the terrain in silence. And what might this witch wish to ask of me? Vezille spoke, his voice was deep and strained as he leveled his turquoise tinted eyes upon Almeta. Robes of brilliant reds and oranges flowed across the Fingers form, marks of arcane runes were gilded in white embroidery upon the furled edges of his fiery themed garment. His left hand rose, thin fingers turning out of the depths of the sleeve that his arm was sunk within and clenching at the air in her direction. Rings decorated those narrow digits, adorned with more wealth then Almeta would of likely seen in her life upon just one of his outstretched fingers. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds all glittered from the vast display of jewelry perched upon those clenching fingers as the air crackled and warmed in his grasp, condensing into a walnut sized bundle of ember that glowed bright orange. As the bright glow of the conjured up wisp of flame formed and shed a glow of radiant orange out from the outstretched and reaching arm of the Finger known as Vezille more men arrived from the depths of the woods. Each of them seemed a seasoned hunter and at home in the woods, their forms swathed in camouflaging fabrics of deep and natural tones. Most wielded bows, and had them idly trained upon Almeta, while one that fell out in a graceful twirling leap from the darkened height of the trees arose with a single dagger that was thin like a needle pinched between his fingers. Perhaps in the back of their minds they sensed the lack of a threat that she truly offered, but with the presence of one of the Fingers in their midst their sense of duty would not be relaxed. Last edited Aug 24, 2018