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Mystery of the Hexlocks...


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#1 gothador_hexlock

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Posted 22 November 2007 - 16:34

He hadn't known where he was, or even who he was. His body had been sore, hardly able to move, and a strange, crooked old man had tried to give him something to drink. The old man had said something, though, before hobbling off, about Gothador not needing someone like him. Not needing hexlock...He had assumed that the old man knew him, and that Hexlock was his name, before passing out again. His dreams had been strange. Shadows and voices filled them. Things seeming like memories that had never happened to him . . .

He had finally awoken to the same, unfamiliar storm-wracked sky. His body felt better, and seemed to cooperate now when he moved. His mind, however, was another matter. He couldn't seem to remember much, and there seemed to be something there with him, in his mind . . .

#2 Pidge

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Posted 24 November 2007 - 17:51

She settled easily into the comfort of the darkness, having followed and watched the little human and the ole man interact before even he seemed drawn away for something or other. Humans in this place were an interesting species, no one ever really remembered the life before. Though they ventured into the unknown and grew as those who had come before them. As he woke, she knew something had been different about him...

Pidge had found herself drawn to the man, though now she somehow knew he was aware of her presense even though she'd twisted the visage into the shadows quite literally. "You are awake..." She'd speak quietly not wanting to startle him into running. Last thing he needed was to run across another of the scouts in the plains and wind up back here.

#3 gothador_hexlock

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Posted 03 December 2007 - 14:13

This past little while had been strange for him. On the way to try and find somewhere decent to sleep, Hexlock had been attacked by a small, wiry creature, and found, quite accidentally, that he had some command over magic, and it served him well. There had been more attacks, and with each one, he learned a little bit more about what he was doing. Not much, but enough, it seemed right then, to survive. He also found that the things that inhabited this world seemed very fond of petty thievery, and they tended to have quite a bit of the local currency on them. With what he took off the bodies, Hexlock was able to afford a room in a small inn, which he used when not working on his magic. It seemed that the more he learned about magic, the stranger his dreams became. Invariably they consisted of shadow and voices he did not recognise, though a subtle change in them eventually filtered out all but one voice. He could never hear it clearly, but it was always the same.

One night, during such a dream, a hand came to rest on his cheek, and he felt an electric chill where it touched him. Some instinct brought him out of the comforting dream to harsh wakefulness, and he thought he could feel someone else in the deep shadows of the room, which seemed blacker than they ought be. Fumbling for a candle, he at last lit it, and the small light seemed to banish the illusion of anyone else in the tiny room. He was alone...


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