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niteo_logs2010-03-06 05:25 pm
thirteen-blades.livejournal.com) wrote in niteo_logs2010-03-06 05:25 pm
Entry tags:
why couldn't i wake up in cancun?
Who: Espedon
When: March 1st
Where: Nesreca
What: Waking up
A headache.
The first sensation Espedon felt in this new world was headache. It felt as though he had drank far too much low-quality alcohol; the pain radiated from the core of his head and throbbed along his skull, clouding his still-groggy thoughts.
Mercifully, the sun was barely coming over the horizon, so there was no daylight to make the headache worse. Unmercifully, there was snow on the ground, and the air was freezing.
His eyes opened slowly and the first thing to meet his eyes was a close-up of wet asphalt. A thin layer of ice covered the small alleyway into which he had apparently been dumped. He shifted to test his body's functionality, and found that he was stiff and sore all over, like he'd been used as a punching bag for hours. With a groan he contracted into the fetal position, rolled onto his stomach, and lifted himself up.
Espedon's extremeties were numb, and dangerously so. He put a hand to his forehead, as if to still the throbbing in his skull, before realizing it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Toughing through it, he took the time to more thoroughly examine his surroundings and check himself.
His clothing and armor was still mostly intact. Worn but well-constructed black boots, baggy black silk pants, burgundy tunic, banded armor also worn but well-made, face-covering and cowl, all still in one piece. He checked absently through his bags, noting that nothing was missing. He was surprised by a sudden series of beeps and squeaks emanating from the bottom of the back. Espedon reached into the bag, and withdrew...
A PDA.
He turned the strange item over in his hand, pressed one of the buttons to make it shut up (gods, the sound made his head hurt), and read the message on it.
"Welcome?" he muttered. "Welcome to where?"
Disinterested, he dropped the item back in his bag. He was ready to find someplace warmer to be, when the last moments before waking up an an alley came to him.
"-overcome your weakness..."
His head hurt worse.
"...no need to fight, I will give the blade to you."
The blade.
He called for the weapon, reaching out to it with his thoughts through the pain that clouded his mind. There was a sudden weight in his hand. There, the Seventh rested, a blade as tall as a man, its golden hilt gleaming with its own dim light.
The headache was beginning to subside. Thankful, Espedon dismissed the Seventh and moved out of the alley, more comfortable knowing that it hadn't left him despite his defeat at the hands of- who? The man's face didn't come readily to Espedon. He remembered not a face, but the epicenter of a flood of Light, powerful enough to wash out the strength of the six blades he had collected. It had been like trying to stand against a hurricane.
It wasn't long before Espedon realized that the city was completely abandoned. He had been 'dropped off' in what seemed to be the main shopping district, but it obviously had been a long time since anybody had taken a trip to the mall. The streets were filled with trash and weeds had already begun to poke their way out from the asphalt. Early-morning birds were the only thing he heard apart from the wind whistling in his ears. Maybe the sound of a child laughing in the distance, but he wasn't about to go chasing hallucinations with his head in the state it was.
Espedon stepped through what had once been a large pane of glass but was now a mess of shards on the ground and into what had once been a department store. He walked quietly, growing gradually more alert as the headache receded.
The blade hunter had brought equipment and clothing enough with him to keep warm in a number of environments, but he knew that a price would be paid by somebody who stood out too much. He had done enough world-jumping to know that dressing up like the locals, whether there were any locals around or not, was always a good idea. Espedon spent a couple of hours finding a few new outfits. The armor he had worn was more for looks than it was for actual protection, and from the looks of the city's remains, he was in a 'modern' world. A modern world meant guns, and guns meant he needed to be fast, not armored.
By the time he had finished, Espedon had exchanged his pseudo-desert-attire for something more respectable: nice-looking shoes, loose-fitting black slacks (he had found a pair of thermal underwear to help keep warm), a black t-shirt under a burgundy sweater, and a black leather coat. He donned a pair of black leather gloves as well. Finding that all the watches had stopped, he instead liberated some other jewelry and took the time to accessorize- necklace, rings, wristband. Why not?
Before leaving, he transferred the contents of his old bag into a backpack, along with three changes of clothes and extra socks. Leaving his old clothing and armor behind, he left the store.
Espedon made a few more stops as he went down the street, picking up some of the niceties that made modern worlds so comfortable: deodorant, dental hygiene items, a shaving kit. He located a few cans of fire gel, a lighter that still worked, a burner, a pot, and as many bottles of water as he could carry. Food was going to become an issue, he realized, since almost all of the food left was spoiled or inedible; he had road rations, but those wouldn't last too long in this weather.
Having spent the morning gathering necessities (he took his sweet time about it), he decided it was time to find someplace to hole up until he could get his bearings and before the weather got much worse. Walking out of the store, he was surprised to find a bloody trail on the ground where he swore there hadn't been one before.
And this time, he knew he heard a child giggling in the distance.
"Haunted, too, hm?" the relic hunter murmured. About this time, the PDA in his pocket set off again. Less irritated with the noise this time, Espedon pulled it out, and raised an eyebrow. "Others."
He toyed with the little object while following the blood trail, tapping out a short message with his thumb before replacing the PDA in his pocket. Between the backpack and the two sacks of incidentals he was carrying, he didn't have room in hand for his weapon, but that could be remedied at the drop of a bag.
As he followed the Crimson Brick Road, Espedon found himself wondering just what had been dragged so far that had had enough blood in it to create so long a trail. This train of thought was interrupted as he followed it to the front steps of an apartment building that must have, compared to the rest of the city, been recently renovated.
Having already followed the trail thus far, Espedon only shrugged and followed the trail further, still alert to his surroundings. He neither saw nor heard anybody else; there were footprints and the blood trail, but no voices, no people.
He arrived at the end of the blood trail, at a door marked 'Espedon' in that familiar red substance. There was even a smiley face next to it, with a couple of hearts. He tested the doorknob and, when it (surprisingly) opened the door, he entered his room.
The hunter had a feeling things were only going to get stranger.
When: March 1st
Where: Nesreca
What: Waking up
A headache.
The first sensation Espedon felt in this new world was headache. It felt as though he had drank far too much low-quality alcohol; the pain radiated from the core of his head and throbbed along his skull, clouding his still-groggy thoughts.
Mercifully, the sun was barely coming over the horizon, so there was no daylight to make the headache worse. Unmercifully, there was snow on the ground, and the air was freezing.
His eyes opened slowly and the first thing to meet his eyes was a close-up of wet asphalt. A thin layer of ice covered the small alleyway into which he had apparently been dumped. He shifted to test his body's functionality, and found that he was stiff and sore all over, like he'd been used as a punching bag for hours. With a groan he contracted into the fetal position, rolled onto his stomach, and lifted himself up.
Espedon's extremeties were numb, and dangerously so. He put a hand to his forehead, as if to still the throbbing in his skull, before realizing it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Toughing through it, he took the time to more thoroughly examine his surroundings and check himself.
His clothing and armor was still mostly intact. Worn but well-constructed black boots, baggy black silk pants, burgundy tunic, banded armor also worn but well-made, face-covering and cowl, all still in one piece. He checked absently through his bags, noting that nothing was missing. He was surprised by a sudden series of beeps and squeaks emanating from the bottom of the back. Espedon reached into the bag, and withdrew...
A PDA.
He turned the strange item over in his hand, pressed one of the buttons to make it shut up (gods, the sound made his head hurt), and read the message on it.
"Welcome?" he muttered. "Welcome to where?"
Disinterested, he dropped the item back in his bag. He was ready to find someplace warmer to be, when the last moments before waking up an an alley came to him.
"-overcome your weakness..."
His head hurt worse.
"...no need to fight, I will give the blade to you."
The blade.
He called for the weapon, reaching out to it with his thoughts through the pain that clouded his mind. There was a sudden weight in his hand. There, the Seventh rested, a blade as tall as a man, its golden hilt gleaming with its own dim light.
The headache was beginning to subside. Thankful, Espedon dismissed the Seventh and moved out of the alley, more comfortable knowing that it hadn't left him despite his defeat at the hands of- who? The man's face didn't come readily to Espedon. He remembered not a face, but the epicenter of a flood of Light, powerful enough to wash out the strength of the six blades he had collected. It had been like trying to stand against a hurricane.
It wasn't long before Espedon realized that the city was completely abandoned. He had been 'dropped off' in what seemed to be the main shopping district, but it obviously had been a long time since anybody had taken a trip to the mall. The streets were filled with trash and weeds had already begun to poke their way out from the asphalt. Early-morning birds were the only thing he heard apart from the wind whistling in his ears. Maybe the sound of a child laughing in the distance, but he wasn't about to go chasing hallucinations with his head in the state it was.
Espedon stepped through what had once been a large pane of glass but was now a mess of shards on the ground and into what had once been a department store. He walked quietly, growing gradually more alert as the headache receded.
The blade hunter had brought equipment and clothing enough with him to keep warm in a number of environments, but he knew that a price would be paid by somebody who stood out too much. He had done enough world-jumping to know that dressing up like the locals, whether there were any locals around or not, was always a good idea. Espedon spent a couple of hours finding a few new outfits. The armor he had worn was more for looks than it was for actual protection, and from the looks of the city's remains, he was in a 'modern' world. A modern world meant guns, and guns meant he needed to be fast, not armored.
By the time he had finished, Espedon had exchanged his pseudo-desert-attire for something more respectable: nice-looking shoes, loose-fitting black slacks (he had found a pair of thermal underwear to help keep warm), a black t-shirt under a burgundy sweater, and a black leather coat. He donned a pair of black leather gloves as well. Finding that all the watches had stopped, he instead liberated some other jewelry and took the time to accessorize- necklace, rings, wristband. Why not?
Before leaving, he transferred the contents of his old bag into a backpack, along with three changes of clothes and extra socks. Leaving his old clothing and armor behind, he left the store.
Espedon made a few more stops as he went down the street, picking up some of the niceties that made modern worlds so comfortable: deodorant, dental hygiene items, a shaving kit. He located a few cans of fire gel, a lighter that still worked, a burner, a pot, and as many bottles of water as he could carry. Food was going to become an issue, he realized, since almost all of the food left was spoiled or inedible; he had road rations, but those wouldn't last too long in this weather.
Having spent the morning gathering necessities (he took his sweet time about it), he decided it was time to find someplace to hole up until he could get his bearings and before the weather got much worse. Walking out of the store, he was surprised to find a bloody trail on the ground where he swore there hadn't been one before.
And this time, he knew he heard a child giggling in the distance.
"Haunted, too, hm?" the relic hunter murmured. About this time, the PDA in his pocket set off again. Less irritated with the noise this time, Espedon pulled it out, and raised an eyebrow. "Others."
He toyed with the little object while following the blood trail, tapping out a short message with his thumb before replacing the PDA in his pocket. Between the backpack and the two sacks of incidentals he was carrying, he didn't have room in hand for his weapon, but that could be remedied at the drop of a bag.
As he followed the Crimson Brick Road, Espedon found himself wondering just what had been dragged so far that had had enough blood in it to create so long a trail. This train of thought was interrupted as he followed it to the front steps of an apartment building that must have, compared to the rest of the city, been recently renovated.
Having already followed the trail thus far, Espedon only shrugged and followed the trail further, still alert to his surroundings. He neither saw nor heard anybody else; there were footprints and the blood trail, but no voices, no people.
He arrived at the end of the blood trail, at a door marked 'Espedon' in that familiar red substance. There was even a smiley face next to it, with a couple of hearts. He tested the doorknob and, when it (surprisingly) opened the door, he entered his room.
The hunter had a feeling things were only going to get stranger.