Post by Forgoil Halifirien on Apr 15, 2008 17:14:24 GMT -5
(Ever read that book? You know, the one that they made into three different movies: Omega Man, The Last Man on Earth, and I am Legend. Well imagine, in all seriousness, that such a fictional event partially came to pass. Imagine that one minute you are minding your own business and the next you're hearing shouting in the streets, the shrieks of fright, and the cacophony of general chaos. Imagine that the Undead are wandering the streets in an organized manner, and attacking anyone who dares to oppose them? Well, this was the reality that our tired hero woke up to.)
Forgoil Halifirien lived in a cozy flat that was on the outskirts of the major square of Triangle Tunnel. It had two floors, excluding the cellar, and was a pretty decent place for someone who had taken odd jobs when he could. The second floor was where his bedroom, study, and bathroom were: the grey-haired lad was sleeping soundily on his bed. Then he was bombarded with noises, not the sounds of his muggle radio that he had enchanted to serve as a wakeup call; for it was not Warren Zevon's music that he heard. No, it was the shrieks of women and the moans of men: it was as if the Earth was swallowing up everyone in the Triangle Tunnel and they knew it. Swearing to himself, the Scotsman jumped out of bed and quickly got on a pair of khakis and a t-shirt. Rushing down the stairs, he grabbed his wand which was sitting on a small table near the door and he hastily put on his gray jacket and black skipper's cap.
When he left his tranquil reality, the change was so intense intense that he froze in the middle of the alley. He could see in the distance colorful spells exploding from the direction of the Ministry building and he knew that shit had hit the fan. People ran past him as he stood there, too out of it to realize the possible danger that he was in, and Frog started walking toward the central square. He didn't make it there though: the loud blast of a horn and the trampling of many feet snapped him to his senses, and the lad rushed back to his house as if the Devil were on his tail. He shoved open his door and immediately locked it with his key and perfomed a couple of sealing spells to make it harder to get in his house.
Running around like a maniac, the Prefect began closing all his windows and shoving whatever furniture he had available against those openings. Ten minutes later he was resting with his back against the door, his chest heaving repeatedly from all the running around and stress, and he focused on the loud proclamation coming from outside. So Azrael was now in charge of the Triangle Tunnel...that wasn't all that bad, right? Then again he took a peek out the window and saw a column of marching undead in the streets: that changed his opinion immediately. A sudden noise to his right caused him to whirl around and level his wand at the face of....his badger Rawnblade.
Sighing with relief, Frog said, "Now listen here chum: don't go round pulling stunts like that again, ya hear? Things...things have changed round these parts for the moment, so we've gotta be careful, right? Of course right. Now I've got a special job for you: I know you've dug through the floorboards of the cellar and you've got tunnels going back to the school and Drakborugh. I need you to deliver something for me. Hold on a tic." Wearily, he rose from his seated position and walked into the dinning room for a pen and some parchment. Sitting down in his chair and casting a wary eye about the room every so often, the lad with the green eyes began writing the following letter.
Dear Sylph,
I'm sorry that I haven't kept in touch as much as I should have over the last few months. Things have been...well, they've been rough for the last few weeks and recently they've taken a turn for the worst. By the time you've received this letter, ya'll know that the Triangle Tunnel has been completely overrun with Inferi. And that's why I'm begging ya not to come here looking for me, because if they nabbed ya I dinnae what I'd do without ya. Don't worry about me, ya know I can handle myself in a great deal of scraps and so far this isn't even that bad. But if you should ever want to see me, you know where I live and so long as ya don't upset the Inferi I think ya'll be fine. It's been a long time, so ya might've lost some of that flame that burns within ya, but when I think about ya...my flame burns all the stronger.
Take care my love,
Frog
"Now you deliver this to Sylph sharpish, ya hear?" asked Forgoil as he slide the letter inbetween Rawnblade's collar. The badger nodded his solemn head and scampered off to the cellar door. Halifirien walked back to the window and risked a peek outside while his furry companion shuffled down the stairs and dove into his tunnel. Sighing, Frog rubbed his temples as he stared out at the Tunnel. This would be a helluva weak adjusting to all this.
Forgoil Halifirien lived in a cozy flat that was on the outskirts of the major square of Triangle Tunnel. It had two floors, excluding the cellar, and was a pretty decent place for someone who had taken odd jobs when he could. The second floor was where his bedroom, study, and bathroom were: the grey-haired lad was sleeping soundily on his bed. Then he was bombarded with noises, not the sounds of his muggle radio that he had enchanted to serve as a wakeup call; for it was not Warren Zevon's music that he heard. No, it was the shrieks of women and the moans of men: it was as if the Earth was swallowing up everyone in the Triangle Tunnel and they knew it. Swearing to himself, the Scotsman jumped out of bed and quickly got on a pair of khakis and a t-shirt. Rushing down the stairs, he grabbed his wand which was sitting on a small table near the door and he hastily put on his gray jacket and black skipper's cap.
When he left his tranquil reality, the change was so intense intense that he froze in the middle of the alley. He could see in the distance colorful spells exploding from the direction of the Ministry building and he knew that shit had hit the fan. People ran past him as he stood there, too out of it to realize the possible danger that he was in, and Frog started walking toward the central square. He didn't make it there though: the loud blast of a horn and the trampling of many feet snapped him to his senses, and the lad rushed back to his house as if the Devil were on his tail. He shoved open his door and immediately locked it with his key and perfomed a couple of sealing spells to make it harder to get in his house.
Running around like a maniac, the Prefect began closing all his windows and shoving whatever furniture he had available against those openings. Ten minutes later he was resting with his back against the door, his chest heaving repeatedly from all the running around and stress, and he focused on the loud proclamation coming from outside. So Azrael was now in charge of the Triangle Tunnel...that wasn't all that bad, right? Then again he took a peek out the window and saw a column of marching undead in the streets: that changed his opinion immediately. A sudden noise to his right caused him to whirl around and level his wand at the face of....his badger Rawnblade.
Sighing with relief, Frog said, "Now listen here chum: don't go round pulling stunts like that again, ya hear? Things...things have changed round these parts for the moment, so we've gotta be careful, right? Of course right. Now I've got a special job for you: I know you've dug through the floorboards of the cellar and you've got tunnels going back to the school and Drakborugh. I need you to deliver something for me. Hold on a tic." Wearily, he rose from his seated position and walked into the dinning room for a pen and some parchment. Sitting down in his chair and casting a wary eye about the room every so often, the lad with the green eyes began writing the following letter.
Dear Sylph,
I'm sorry that I haven't kept in touch as much as I should have over the last few months. Things have been...well, they've been rough for the last few weeks and recently they've taken a turn for the worst. By the time you've received this letter, ya'll know that the Triangle Tunnel has been completely overrun with Inferi. And that's why I'm begging ya not to come here looking for me, because if they nabbed ya I dinnae what I'd do without ya. Don't worry about me, ya know I can handle myself in a great deal of scraps and so far this isn't even that bad. But if you should ever want to see me, you know where I live and so long as ya don't upset the Inferi I think ya'll be fine. It's been a long time, so ya might've lost some of that flame that burns within ya, but when I think about ya...my flame burns all the stronger.
Take care my love,
Frog
"Now you deliver this to Sylph sharpish, ya hear?" asked Forgoil as he slide the letter inbetween Rawnblade's collar. The badger nodded his solemn head and scampered off to the cellar door. Halifirien walked back to the window and risked a peek outside while his furry companion shuffled down the stairs and dove into his tunnel. Sighing, Frog rubbed his temples as he stared out at the Tunnel. This would be a helluva weak adjusting to all this.