The Gathering Across Time

[Zeth Gurido]

'Across time and space,
There is a plane where the unimaginable becomes real,
The elements have forsaken the land,
And life is deminished.

Across time and space,
There is a gathering of souls,
Chosen by the will of an unspeakable force,
To come together and try their chance.

Across time and space,
There is a chance for rebirth,
Where a world can start anew,
All across the "Wilderness".'

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Zethiel had walked across this cursed plane for hours without a sign of a single soul, his flaring crimson eyes that held a darkness so deep that no one could tell what the man's mind contained. Stopping for a second, Zeth took in the scenery around him....well, if could even be called THAT.... The wasteland was covered in dead plants and the bones of small dead animals, and the sky was covered up by a veil of dark grey clouds that resembled an abyss. In the distance there was a dark silouette of a mountain range, similar to the Dragon's Jaw of his own world, but only much larger in size and scale. Turning to his left Zethiel saw only the same, and the same as that behind him. However, to his right, he saw what looked like a small temple. One that looked like it was meant for religous purposes. Turning towards it, his dark cloak and muffler swaying in momentum from his turn rather than a wind that was mysteriously not present, he made his way to the structure. For half an approximate hour Zeth approached the temple, until he finally reached the front door. His darkened skin showing no exaustion from his long journey, he pushed open the wooden doors and entered into the darkness.

Walking inside the structure Zeth stopped and pulled out from a pouch a small contraption an 'old friend' had made for him. Clicking the switch on the device, the two pieces of flint came togther to create a spark, only for a split second but enough time to see that there was a torch right next to him on the wall. Remembering its location precisely, Zethiel grabbed the wooden torch off the wall with a quick hand and moved the device up to the top of the flammable rod. Clicking the device once again, Zeth watched without falter or flinch as the fire came to life from the sparks the device produced, creating light to fill the majority of the room, allowing Zeth to see similar torches around him. Slowly walking to each one, he lit the remaining torches to fill the entire temple with light. Placing the first torch on the wall where he found it, Zeth observed the room more closely.

It was definately a religous place, but not a holy one. There was an obsidian table in the back of the room, and a podium made of the same substance, but that was all there was. Inspecting the table more closely, he discovered that it was infact a sacrifical tablet, depicting dreadful pictures of demons, liches, and ghouls devouring humans and each other, as well as other creatures and humanoids Zeth couldn't recognize. As if to add to the dreadful scene, blood covered the majority of the tablet and the floor surrounding it, all, thankfully, darkened significantly from age, meaning that it hadn't been used in quiet some time, and hopefully wouldn't be used in the future.

Feeling tiredness just now start to grow over him, Zeth walked over to one of the walls, clutching his sacred blade at his right, and sat against the wall, and let the calming darkness of a light sleep over take him. However, even in sleep, his guard was up, ready to spring out of the restful position and out of tiredness' clutches in a moment.

[Willow]

Demetrius Sterling, cursed by the Oblivion gate and little more than a monster, must have looked like something from hell as he crouched among the old bones and foul concoctions. Once upon a time Demetrius had been human, but a run in with a wolf beast and the extra magic at the Gate had left behind this . . . thing. Eyes in sunken pits flickered over the room, judging if anything could be of any help for him.

He was sure he'd tried everything. Demetrius was so ready to be rid of his extra . . . body that hindered him so. One arm looked mostly normal, save rather long fingers. The other was little more than a claw and a strip of fur over bones. A head like a wolf's but with vague human features swivelled, eyes searching.

Two days he'd been in this forsaken place, and nothing had helped him. There had to be something here. Demetrius let out a snarl that sounded all the more gruesome coming from an animal throat and swiped a jar of frog tongues off in to the floor. It shattered across the floor, and Demetrius caught a glimpse of himself in some sort of mirror - a scrying mirror no doubt, but the wolf man was no seer. All he saw was his own twisted reflection. The expression there twisted, and the air around him shuddered - there was no other word for it. Much better. Demetrius didn't know healing or scrying or even elemental - but he could illusion all he want. Yet, it was all just that; an illusion didn't mean that if someone tossed a knife at his head it'd go through him.

A human face took the place of the wolf thing, and the rest of him looked . . . normal. Demetrius now looked as he remembered himself, a lean, gangly fellow with a mess of dark, blue-tinged hair and a serious face. He scooped up what looked like it could be useful, hung his pack off his shoulder, and started for the main chamber of the temple. The place was riddled with back rooms - Demetrius had found a nest of mummified spiders in a box and an animated hand crawling around in a tank. If his cure had lain here, he would have praised these demon summoners. But it hadn't.

Fortunately all the demons seemed to be gone. Demetrius stiffened as he reached for the door. Something had moved within. After a long time, he heard nothing more, and assumed it'd just been the building settling, or some old stone falling from place. That had happened a lot while he was here. The temple wouldn't last much longer. He entered the main room and looked around carefully, then went rigid once more. There, leaned against the floor, was a man - a strange, and one that looked like he could definitely heft his own weight. Demetrius could tell by the way he was sitting there would be no running or hiding. So, keeping his knife in his belt (just in case) he unsheathed his sword and set it on the ground. No sense in looking for a fight.

At least he didn't have a wolf body growing from the waist up. As long as he kept his concentration, it would stay that way. Nothing said 'Unholy Demon' like a mutated monster in a demon master's temple. "No harm meant here, stranger." Surely it was clear what he'd been doing here. Surely. He'd taken little more than he'd come in with. Surely.

[Gwydion Nefarine]

Can I come in on one of these two roleplays with a new character or two?

[Willow]

Ooc: Dude. No. Get out.

I'm kidding. I don't care, I doubt Zeth cares.