Post by beautifullyxbroken on Dec 6, 2005 22:15:22 GMT -5
ooc; damn. >< If I would have known this was here, I wouldn't have posted on the Questions / Answers board. Sorry, people. ;ooc
"Mathieu? Arise, Mathieu"
"Oh, hush Laramie. You're the only pixie I've had that hovers about me night and day. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Mathieu, are you aware of the coming peril?"
"Coming peril? Your words disturb me, Laramie. You had best have a further explanation."
"Arise, Mathieu, and I shall tell you."
The young man arose from the sandy bed, rubbing his head sleepily. His fingers ran through his thick, chocolate locks that were still messy from the night's sleep. He shot an aggrivated glance at his somewhat guardian and companion, Laramie; Laramie, his pixie by choice of nickname, gave him a content smile along with a quick bow of the head.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Mathieu, but you wished for me to tell you the information about the coming peril?"
Mathieu waved his hand carelessly. He rubbed his forehead in agony from the pounding headache that surged through his head. He groaned before opening his lips to speak.
"Yes, yes. Continue on."
Laramie gave another courteous bow before beginning. She fluttered over to Mathieu and landed close to his ear, sitting on his shoulder. "Anyhow, where shall I begin? Oh, I see now... Mathieu, I'm sure you are aware that you are a mere slave in the Ruling of Pharoah Ramanan, but until you realize what war is upon us, you will look down upon your position.
"Until a mere few days ago, the tomb of Pharoah Shihab of the line of Ramses had been undiscovered and undisturbed. After her discovery, a strange plague has become apparent over this land. The plague consists of stages, if you will, that grow worse with each coming sin that the current ruler, Pharoah Ramanan, commits.
"First it was the cattle becoming increasingly crazed by an unknown source. Many current shepherds insist on feeding their cattle Mahr, a spice from Israel that is known to heal the insane human population. Many shepherds have tried to introduce this remedy into the illness, but one after one has failed. If this plague is not ceased, the cattle will become incontrolable and consistantly attack the innocent slaves.
"The last plague, the second of the line, was the plague of the demons. Many people have become possessed by demonic prescences and are seemingly becoming more powerful. Although the demonic spirits have no control over anything the selected being touches, the demons are beginning to kill anything that they can with the weaponry that they acquire from the Pharoah's warriors. Although we seem to have this under control by eliminating any possible trade of weaponry, the demons are still finding ways to attack.
"Mathieu, a few slaves are being selected to become baited warriors to fight the plagues. Pharoah knows that if he creates more warriors, more demons will come out, then he can kill off all of the warriors one by one. Your option is to avoid becoming one of those warriors of to become one of those warriors and try to fight the plague head-on. Although, we have no clue what is causing the plagues. The most probable guess by the Pharisees is that it's the restless spirit of Pharoah Shihab coming to claim her share of the gold and slaves for the Afterlife."
Mathieu stood in shock for a moment, realizing then why there had been such talk against the Pharoah among the slaves. He contemplated the information he was just given before smiling. "Well, you know what, Laramie? I'm feeling generous today, so I think I'm going to become a warrior for the desert's sake. But first I must get a few golden coins to pay off the warrior taxes, correct?"
Laramie shook her head in disgrace before giving a reluctant nod. "Yes, but you'll have to be a serious pickpocket and street urchin until you earn enough. You'll have to spend nearly all of your free time on the streets. You'll have nearly no rest. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Mathieu nodded quickly. "Oh, don't worry, Laramie. I'm sure they'll accept a warrior with the guidance of a pixie such as yourself--"
"You will do no such thing as to tell them I am your guidance pixie!" she said, cutting him off. She fluttered up in front of his face and pointed at him with an angry glare. "If they even find out I'm there then I'll be sent back to the Assignment Area and you'll be helpless!"
Mathieu arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so you want to stay with me and help me?" He chuckled a bit before smirking at the comment. "Aw, that's so sweet, Laramie. And I thought you were heartless."
Laramie gave an angered stare before sticking her nose up into the air. "You would be hopeless without my guidance. You would be a sitting duck! Admit it!"
Mathieu shook his head sarcastically. "Oh, heavens no. I would be the hero without you, Laramie. You're just here to be my apprentice and to annoy me with your constant rants. I would be fine without you. You're just jealous because you would be out of a job if I wansn't the person who put up with your rants."
Laramie ignored him as he got up and dressed in his slave outfit, which was a loincloth and a drab shirt made from cattle skin. He slipped on his dirty breeches that he was offered as a gift from his friend Ofira, who had ties to some of the richest men that worked with the Pharoah. He walked over to the water bucket and took a bit of water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He rubbed his hands together with some water, looking into his reflection; his wavy, dark brown locks of hair messily fell into his large, brown eyes and barely dusted his wideset shoulders. His tan skin was becoming darker from the hours he spent in the sun working. Muscles were beginning to appear on his once-weak arms. Satsfied, he then set off for the slave mine, where he was to build blocks out of mud for the day. He left Laramie behind at the slave bunker in his room.
Upon arriving, he was met by a crack of a whip and a slave driver who told him to get to work immediately. Following orders reluctantly, he began to make the bricks for the figure they were building. Another pyramid, so it seemed, as a triangular prism had been lain out on one of the guard's mispaced parchment prints.
"Mathieu? Arise, Mathieu"
"Oh, hush Laramie. You're the only pixie I've had that hovers about me night and day. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Mathieu, are you aware of the coming peril?"
"Coming peril? Your words disturb me, Laramie. You had best have a further explanation."
"Arise, Mathieu, and I shall tell you."
The young man arose from the sandy bed, rubbing his head sleepily. His fingers ran through his thick, chocolate locks that were still messy from the night's sleep. He shot an aggrivated glance at his somewhat guardian and companion, Laramie; Laramie, his pixie by choice of nickname, gave him a content smile along with a quick bow of the head.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Mathieu, but you wished for me to tell you the information about the coming peril?"
Mathieu waved his hand carelessly. He rubbed his forehead in agony from the pounding headache that surged through his head. He groaned before opening his lips to speak.
"Yes, yes. Continue on."
Laramie gave another courteous bow before beginning. She fluttered over to Mathieu and landed close to his ear, sitting on his shoulder. "Anyhow, where shall I begin? Oh, I see now... Mathieu, I'm sure you are aware that you are a mere slave in the Ruling of Pharoah Ramanan, but until you realize what war is upon us, you will look down upon your position.
"Until a mere few days ago, the tomb of Pharoah Shihab of the line of Ramses had been undiscovered and undisturbed. After her discovery, a strange plague has become apparent over this land. The plague consists of stages, if you will, that grow worse with each coming sin that the current ruler, Pharoah Ramanan, commits.
"First it was the cattle becoming increasingly crazed by an unknown source. Many current shepherds insist on feeding their cattle Mahr, a spice from Israel that is known to heal the insane human population. Many shepherds have tried to introduce this remedy into the illness, but one after one has failed. If this plague is not ceased, the cattle will become incontrolable and consistantly attack the innocent slaves.
"The last plague, the second of the line, was the plague of the demons. Many people have become possessed by demonic prescences and are seemingly becoming more powerful. Although the demonic spirits have no control over anything the selected being touches, the demons are beginning to kill anything that they can with the weaponry that they acquire from the Pharoah's warriors. Although we seem to have this under control by eliminating any possible trade of weaponry, the demons are still finding ways to attack.
"Mathieu, a few slaves are being selected to become baited warriors to fight the plagues. Pharoah knows that if he creates more warriors, more demons will come out, then he can kill off all of the warriors one by one. Your option is to avoid becoming one of those warriors of to become one of those warriors and try to fight the plague head-on. Although, we have no clue what is causing the plagues. The most probable guess by the Pharisees is that it's the restless spirit of Pharoah Shihab coming to claim her share of the gold and slaves for the Afterlife."
Mathieu stood in shock for a moment, realizing then why there had been such talk against the Pharoah among the slaves. He contemplated the information he was just given before smiling. "Well, you know what, Laramie? I'm feeling generous today, so I think I'm going to become a warrior for the desert's sake. But first I must get a few golden coins to pay off the warrior taxes, correct?"
Laramie shook her head in disgrace before giving a reluctant nod. "Yes, but you'll have to be a serious pickpocket and street urchin until you earn enough. You'll have to spend nearly all of your free time on the streets. You'll have nearly no rest. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Mathieu nodded quickly. "Oh, don't worry, Laramie. I'm sure they'll accept a warrior with the guidance of a pixie such as yourself--"
"You will do no such thing as to tell them I am your guidance pixie!" she said, cutting him off. She fluttered up in front of his face and pointed at him with an angry glare. "If they even find out I'm there then I'll be sent back to the Assignment Area and you'll be helpless!"
Mathieu arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so you want to stay with me and help me?" He chuckled a bit before smirking at the comment. "Aw, that's so sweet, Laramie. And I thought you were heartless."
Laramie gave an angered stare before sticking her nose up into the air. "You would be hopeless without my guidance. You would be a sitting duck! Admit it!"
Mathieu shook his head sarcastically. "Oh, heavens no. I would be the hero without you, Laramie. You're just here to be my apprentice and to annoy me with your constant rants. I would be fine without you. You're just jealous because you would be out of a job if I wansn't the person who put up with your rants."
Laramie ignored him as he got up and dressed in his slave outfit, which was a loincloth and a drab shirt made from cattle skin. He slipped on his dirty breeches that he was offered as a gift from his friend Ofira, who had ties to some of the richest men that worked with the Pharoah. He walked over to the water bucket and took a bit of water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He rubbed his hands together with some water, looking into his reflection; his wavy, dark brown locks of hair messily fell into his large, brown eyes and barely dusted his wideset shoulders. His tan skin was becoming darker from the hours he spent in the sun working. Muscles were beginning to appear on his once-weak arms. Satsfied, he then set off for the slave mine, where he was to build blocks out of mud for the day. He left Laramie behind at the slave bunker in his room.
Upon arriving, he was met by a crack of a whip and a slave driver who told him to get to work immediately. Following orders reluctantly, he began to make the bricks for the figure they were building. Another pyramid, so it seemed, as a triangular prism had been lain out on one of the guard's mispaced parchment prints.