Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
45
Renown
Human
11 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lucius Blackthorn on Aug 13, 2023 19:49:48 GMT -5
In the heart of Darkveil, a city brimming with ambition and cloaked in shadowy intrigues, the stage was set for a difficult challenge.
Whispers of an enigmatic painter had found their way to Lucius Blackthorn, a mage whose quiet demeanor belied his perceptive nature. This artist had conjured a masterpiece, a canvas that held an enchantment beckoning those daring enough to enter its realm, each experience tailored to the observer's heart and mind. It was no mere illusion; it was a living embodiment of dreams. To one, it might unveil serene gardens, nature's melodies caressing their senses; to another, forgotten libraries might unfurl their tomes, or they might ascend to lofty mountain peaks where clouds danced in a tender embrace. This masterpiece wove together perception and reality, a realm born from individual experiences and desires.
Intrigued by the intertwining of art and magic, Lucius found himself drawn to the artist's studio. The door swung open as if an invitation, revealing a stillness that contrasted starkly with the bustling city outside. Each step he took on the plush carpet felt like an exploration of the unknown. Canvases adorned with vibrant sketches and half-formed images whispered tales of creativity, and the scent of paint and pigments lingered, a testament to the artist's dedication.
Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Lucius delved deeper, his gaze tracing sunlight dancing through suspended particles of dust. The portraits on the walls seemed to hold an uncanny awareness, their eyes seemingly following his movements. Yet, amidst the studio's vibrant chaos, an emptiness hung in the air, as though life had momentarily withdrawn from its sanctuary. A dimly lit corridor led him to a room awash in gentle light, a room that held the heart of his intrigue.
As he crossed the threshold, Lucius's gaze fell upon the enchanted canvas, a living gateway to another world. Its surface pulsed with energy, a portal into realms encapsulated within its frame. With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, he reached out, fingers tingling as they brushed the magical surface. The sensations that followed were like a symphony of colors and whispers, as if reality itself were rearranging its threads.
As the ripples of transformation carried him away, Lucius materialized in a new realm. The familiar had been replaced by an awe-inspiring scene – a tranquil pond reflecting the serene expanse of the sky above. Nature flourished in vibrant abundance, and Lucius could almost feel the pulse of life resonating through the land. He moved with cautious steps, his thoughts swirling in a sea of wonder and uncertainty. "What is this?" he murmured, his voice a mere whisper that danced upon the breeze.
The gazebo ahead beckoned like an enigma waiting to be unraveled, its intricate design a testament to the artist's imagination. Lucius's gaze flickered between his surroundings and the canvas that had transported him here. "A canvas of dreams and desires," he mused aloud, his words a reflection of his contemplation.
As Lucius Blackthorn ventured further into the enchanting painting, a growing realization dawned upon him – the boundaries between the painted realm and his own reality had blurred. With a mixture of curiosity and concern, he pondered the possibility that he was no longer a mere observer, but an integral part of the canvas's magic. His contemplation was marked by a furrowed brow and a whispered query, wondering if the enchantment had ensnared him as well. Lucius grappled with the profound implications of his newfound connection to the painted world, recognizing that he had become an imprisoned participant in a captivating yet uncertain artistic realm.
|
|
Fighter's Guild
IS OFFLINE
48
Renown
Half Human - Half Moon Elf
Ray Castien, my character https://talesofcharon.proboards.com/thread/660/ray-castien-character-page
426 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Ray Castien on Aug 13, 2023 23:10:29 GMT -5
The screams of wounded men, dying men, and heartbroken loved ones had filled Ray's ears for hours on end as he worked in an impromptu hospital near a collapsed workhouse in Darkveil city. He had saved a majority of those caught in the rubble, pulled free many of those who were stuck under the worst of it, but it's never possible to save everyone. As wounded men and women were no longer carted in and those that remained were simply being cared for by his acolytes and volunteers Ray took his leave. In situations like this a walk was the only thing that calmed him, separation from the haunting sounds that filled the places he was so often called to.
This particular stroll took him down a way he'd never gone. The street curved and the shadows deepened as he descended a set of steps into a row of houses and shops of the more eclectic and unique variety. The perfect place to lose yourself in the novelty of the oddities presented. His steps slowed and he pushed the earlier misfortune from his mind, focusing instead on a particularly interesting building. A door that seemed to be waiting for him. Perhaps it was due to Qil's presence that it seemed to be calling to him, reaching out and pulling him in towards it. He read the words above the door, designating it as an art gallery for an artist he didn't know. Never one to deny fate Ray moved to open the door just to have it creak open before his hand could reach it. "By the Wanderer..." He muttered to himself as he stepped through and into the painting filled room.
"Seeker, prepare yourself..." Qil spoke in Ray's mind with a voice of warning that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Are we in danger, is it an ambush?" He thought back to Qil urgently.
"It is danger of a different kind, guard your soul Seeker, for it is soon to be challenged."
Cryptic and useless, what could be worse on a soul than failing to save a man in front of his loved ones? Definitely not looking at dusty old paintings.
He continued his perusal of the assortment of paintings, sketches, and other works. Most were impressive, yet uninteresting to him. Art had never really struck him in an impactful way but he could appreciate it for what it was. This was all set to change as he made his was through a dimly lit corridor, entering a place of obvious importance. Within he found a painting whose surface glowed with magic, and his mind burst aflame with interest. He was enthralled, walking confidently forward he reach out his hand to feel the surface and study the piece's composition.
At that moment he felt a shift, a twist to his reality as the piece was no longer against his fingertips. In the same moment Qil's words echoed through his mind and he realized he'd be getting more than escapism on this walk. The ground felt like rough stone, the air was cold, damp, and clung to his skin. The light had bled from the place and Ray stood in shadows. A solitary light shined in the distance and outlined various figures that stood between the light and Ray in black shadows. Some of these moved while most did not. Behind the light was a temple, his temple he recognized, a beacon of sanctuary in this gloomy place. He thought only of reaching it, willing Qil to manifest so that he could see through the darkness.
The light that Ray had willed to glow from his eyes didn't come. Instead the light across the room grew dimmer, the shadows blurred, and a profane sense of aloneness joined him in its place.
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
45
Renown
Human
11 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lucius Blackthorn on Aug 14, 2023 23:32:26 GMT -5
As Lucius delved deeper into the captivating painting, his senses enlivened by the vivid symphony of colors and faint whispers, a fleeting presence emerged within the realm. Ethereal echoes of footsteps and rustling leaves stirred the tranquil scene, casting ephemeral ripples of curiosity through the air. His stormy eyes focused on the source of this transient disruption—a figure cloaked in enigmatic allure, materializing like a passing shadow from the canvas's narrative.
As the stranger's presence waned, Lucius realized the boundaries between their planes held firm, unyielding to easy breach. Fueled by his understanding, he explored the painted landscape with intention, his perceptive stormy gaze scanning for insights concealed within the vibrant hues. The whispers of the painting seemed to guide his steps, drawing him toward a distant gazebo adorned with ivy and intricate patterns. Magic seemed to embrace this place, a sentiment further underscored by the subtle shift in the air as he approached.
At the gazebo's heart, beneath its delicate arches and mesmerizing designs, an empty canvas pulsed with a faint, enchanting glow. Beside it lay a brush that shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, its bristles brimming with latent potential. Lucius's curiosity deepened as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the bristles, connecting with the very essence of the enchantment. The brush hummed with untapped energy, a bridge to a realm of creativity and power unlike any he had known.
Eyes alight with a blend of wonder and caution, Lucius contemplated the canvas and the brush before him. Could these objects hold the key to unveiling the mysteries of this painted realm? A surge of determination surged through him, and he clasped the brush's ornate handle, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air. The canvas seemed to hold its breath, poised for the touch that would animate its dormant magic.
As the enchanted brush pulsed with power, Lucius channeled his mastery into creation, watching as each stroke summoned a symphony of colors, emotions, and intricate patterns that seemed to mirror the very essence of existence. The canvas transformed into a tapestry of enchantment and wonder, a testament to his profound connection with magic and art. With every brushstroke, he wove his emotions and experiences into the fabric of the painting, giving form to long-held dreams and sentiments.
In the midst of his creative fervor, Lucius's mastery blossomed, and the boundaries between the painted realm and his own reality blurred. He realized he had the power to reshape the world according to his desires, an exhilarating revelation that stirred both triumph and sorrow within him. With trembling hands, he painted a poignant scene—an image of his beloved wife, radiant and expectant, evoking memories of their shared moments.
As the final brushstroke graced the canvas, Lucius stepped back, his heart heavy with emotion. The painting depicted his wife in all her ethereal beauty, capturing the essence of their love and the dreams that had remained unfulfilled. The colors shimmered with life, as if her spirit had been infused into the very fabric of the artwork.
With reverence and gratitude, Lucius whispered to the enchanted realm that had granted him this extraordinary gift. As he stepped away, a radiant luminescence enveloped the painted figure of his wife, and astonishingly, she emerged from the canvas, taking on a tangible form. Tears filled Lucius's eyes as he beheld his beloved, a presence both radiant and ethereal, standing before him.
In their reunion, the boundary between reality and art dissolved. Lucius and his wife shared a lingering gaze, their souls reconnected, embodying a painting brought to life through the symphony of magic and emotion. Bound by an unbreakable connection, they found solace and understanding in each other's presence, transcending the limitations of existence.
Lucius' voice trembled, his gaze fixed upon Seraphina. "And what shall we do now?" he inquired softly. Her tender fingers brushed against his hand, the one cradling the enchanted brush. "I yearn to craft something new, alongside you," she replied, her words a soothing melody that danced upon the air.
Unbeknownst to Lucius, The brush he held, now a conduit of creative power, had woven its enchantment around him, much like the Artist before him.
|
|
Fighter's Guild
IS OFFLINE
48
Renown
Half Human - Half Moon Elf
Ray Castien, my character https://talesofcharon.proboards.com/thread/660/ray-castien-character-page
426 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Ray Castien on Aug 15, 2023 9:53:05 GMT -5
Ray took a deep breath, allowing the realization of his separation from Qil to set in fully. It must be due to the painting, some trick of his perception that blocked out his ability to hear and feel Qil. He allowed that to satisfy him and moved to walk closer to the shadows and towards his temple behind them.
As he approached the first set of shadows a faint color crept onto their form as he walked closer. The first set of shadows all seemed to be speaking and moving like actors in a play, the ground grew wetter and softer as he approached. The air stayed a musty wetness, but grew warmer. A light buzz of insects hummed and the voices of the figures rose above them. He saw before him his mother and father, himself as a child, and a group of armed men. He knew this, this memory that haunted his waking and sleeping hours, immediately. His father's hulking figure hefted an axe, his mother grabbed him and ran, the men drew spears and swords and charged. Ray turned his head and the movement paused...
He turned back and things moved to motion once more, so he turned again to stop the death that followed. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he realized that he would be required to witness this before he could move by it.
"Curse this damned place! I'll tear this painting to pieces when I get out of here!" He bellowed through the heaves and coughs brought on by his crying. It was too lifelike, his memories had faded, but this was vivid... visceral...
Before he could build the courage to turn again a glistening brought his attention to the floor where a paintbrush lay. He realized then that a canvas stood above the brush, empty but calling to him. Some strange pull brought him closer, brush in hand, as an offer stood before him. The scene behind him was represented on the canvas, and he had a chance to change it. He brought the brush towards the canvas wearily, hesitant, and drew himself there as he was before losing his arm, sword in hand beside his father. He turned once more and the scene had reset, unlike before he felt his blade at his side.
He drew the sword with his right arm, restored by the brush and canvas, and fell into his practiced stance. The men rushed forward as he did, his father stood behind him with confusion on his face and tears falling from his eyes. Ray cut through the troop of men with ease, carving them to pieces as he let his rage consume him. A primordial scream left his lungs as more and more men charged and were dismembered and gutted by him. The shadows stopped coming and he turned to face his family once more. The image had grown distorted and details seemed a little off now. His heart throbbed in his chest as he approached them where they stood. They cowered at the sight of him, covered in blood and viscera, and the canvas presented itself again before him.
He picked the brush up and started to paint over their faces with happier ones, their arms into a welcoming embrace, and stopped himself. A drip of blood had ran down his arm, to the brush and stained the canvas. His mind began to work again, realizing he was creating a lie. He was no savior to them, they weren't there to comfort him, only to assuage his regrets and rage. He had fallen to the lust for bloody vengeance that haunted his soul, denied the truth of his life and where it had led him. Wanderer forgive him, he thought, and turned to the canvas again.
This time he painted his family dying, their deaths saving him and cursing him at once. Then, he broke the brush in his hands and turned to face the shadows that prepared to haunt him. He walked by himself slaughtering guards, villagers, and bandits like animals. He strode crying through a burning village, the bodies of his brothers in arms littering the streets among the corpses of village folk. He walked by those he'd failed to save, those he'd refused to save, and those he'd killed. As he did the distant light grew stronger and the tears flowed no more.
"Wanderer, I thank you for the blood I've spilled, for the lives I've changed, for the path it has made before me, and for guiding my feet towards fate." He finished the prayer as he stepped through the entryway to his temple, feeling at once somber and hopeful.
The interior of the temple flashed away before him, and he found himself looking upon a tranquil pond amid vibrant life. It was like the Sky Gardens, but open to a blue sky that seemed endless in it's breadth. A gazebo stood beyond the pond and Ray felt a pulse of power hum from inside it. He began to walk towards it, still sniffling slightly from his earlier experience.
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
45
Renown
Human
11 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lucius Blackthorn on Aug 20, 2023 21:49:45 GMT -5
The Gazebo was bathed in an eerie glow as Lucius stood before an ancient easel, his robes cascading like shadows around him. The room was adorned with mystic artifacts. The air hummed with energy. Lucius clutched a delicate brush in his hand, its handle wrought from the gnarled wood of a tree that had borne witness to centuries of history.
Beside him, Seraphina, his cherished wife, stood with an air of quiet serenity. Her presence was a soothing tonic for his weary soul, and her delicate touch radiated warmth that pushed back the chill of the room. She gazed at him with eyes that held a reflection of starlight, her fingers poised over a blank canvas that seemed to shimmer with uncharted possibilities.
"Lucius," she murmured, her voice a serenade woven into the fabric of existence, "the time has come."
He nodded, his stormy gray eyes meeting hers with a mix of determination and vulnerability. He knew that what lay before them was a task of profound magnitude. With a slow exhalation, he dipped the brush into a blend of vibrant pigments, each shade resonating with untold stories and emotions.
As the brush's bristles met the canvas, a cascade of colors flowed forth, intertwining and merging in a ballet of creation. Lucius and Seraphina worked in harmony, their souls fused through their artistic endeavor.
Yet, beneath the strokes of brilliance, a shadowy undertone pulsed. Unbeknownst to Lucius, the brush he wielded was not a mere tool of creation. It was imbued with an enchantment he could not fathom, a magic that sought to intertwine its desires with the fabric of their world.
Seraphina's form appeared to blur and meld with the canvas, as if she herself were becoming an integral part of the painting. Her once serene smile held an enigmatic quality, and her eyes began to mirror the hues of the world they were shaping. Lost in the fervor of creation, Lucius remained oblivious to the subtle shifts taking place.
With the final touch, a breathtaking sun dipped below the painted horizon, casting a warm and golden light across their work. Lucius stepped back, his chest rising and falling with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. He turned to Seraphina, his heart brimming with love and pride.
In the midst of the intricately painted world that Lucius had conjured, a subtle disruption rippled through the serene landscape. A mere glimpse revealed a figure, fleeting yet ominous. Lucious could view the intruder from the Gazebo, and as he turned his gaze to Seraphina she seemed petrified in fear from this intruder.
Lucius made himself visible, unknowingly using this brush as if it were a wand in a threatening manner. "State your intentions" Lucius was prepared to cast a spell, something he swore off before, but he had something to protect now. The brush seemingly acted like a wand as well, allowing his energy to pull through it should he need to cast an offensive spell.
|
|