After their harrowing escape from Ashura's Shrine, Okoye and Ovan clung to the broad, shadowy back of the avian demon summoned by the nascent power within Okoye. They were both fatigued, their bodies and minds pushed to the brink by the ordeal they had endured within the Hyperion Mountain. As the icy winds howled around them, the rhythmic beat of the demon's powerful wings became a lulling force, coaxing their strained senses into a deep, necessary unconsciousness.
With both adventurers succumbing to exhaustion, the winged demon continued its flight instinctively– now not just a rescuer but a guardian carrying its charges through the fading night. The creature soared over the daunting peaks of the Hyperion Drifts, soon happening upon the fractured landscape of the Tarkan Plains where the frost clung to the earth like a permanent shroud. Moonlight casted a silvery glow over snow-laden fields and jagged ice formations upon the terrain.
The return flight to the Cold Frontier was smooth and unwavering. The unnamed fiend navigated the nocturnal skies with an ancient grace, attuned to the safety of its new wards. As they neared the inn, the crisp night air grew dank with the scents of pine and distant woodsmoke; a stark contrast to the closed, frigid confines of the haunted shrine they had fled. Stars dotted the darkness above, guiding the winged sentinel's silent flight back to civilization– back to the small, huddled collection of buildings that made up the village where Okoye and Ovan had started their journey. Though it had never been before, its intelligence was directly linked with its host. Okoye's memories sufficed as a competent waypoint.
As dawn began to color the eastern sky with hues of pink and gold, the Avian demon descended toward the village– its presence unnoticed by the still-slumbering inhabitants. The creature alighted quietly in the shadow of the inn where Okoye and Ovan had begun their quest, the building old and sturdy, its windows frosted from the inside by the breath of its occupants. With great care, the truck-sized beast deposited Okoye and Ovan at the steps of the inn. The demon lingered for a moment, its massive form crouched in the snow, ebon scales blending with the shadows of the early morning. It watched over them with glowing eyes, ensuring their safety in these final moments of its task.
Unconscious still, Ovan and Okoye laid side by side, wrapped in their heavy cloaks and the residual warmth retained from their flight. The first rays of the sun began to warm the chill air, stirring the village to life. Smoke started rising anew from chimneys and distant doors creaked open. It was only then that the hellborn sentinel, its duty fulfilled, gave one last solemn glance towards Okoye and vanished– dissipating like a shadow at dawn, leaving behind only the faintest trace of its supernatural presence.
In the quiet of the morning, the innkeeper (Presumably Frances), an early riser by necessity, noticed the two figures at her doorstep. With a mixture of curiosity and concern, she hurried over, recognizing them and carefully helped them inside.
Glory's Toll
Re: Glory's Toll
Okoye awoke with a start in a dimly lit room, her body jerking upright on the small, creaky bed. For a moment, the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight seemed to dance menacingly around her, echoing the turmoil that churned within her soul. Her breath came in sharp gasps, each one slicing through the silence of the room like a blade. She was immediately knew where she was. She was within the Cold Frontier– specifically the room she purchased, just before she embarked on her trip. And thankfully, she was alone, save for the pulsing presence within her—a presence that felt alien yet inextricably part of her now.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Okoye noticed her arms and torso were meticulously wrapped in bandages, the smell of medicinal herbs permeating the air around her. Her skin was slathered in a thick, pungent ointment, likely applied to soothe the wounds she had barely noticed she’d received during their escape.
Her thoughts drifted to the moment it happened, the instant she hijacked the Shackled Star's ancient power and sealed the beast within herself. And while the ritual worked to perfection, their came some unspoken clauses attached to the prize she sought. Upon sealing him, Okoye accrued not just a source of untold power, but a sentient, writhing force that now shared her every breath. Which, to be frank, was far more than she bargained for.
Outside, the sounds of the village stirring brought a measure of reality back to her senses. Life went on, oblivious to the cosmic struggle that played out within the confines of her room. Okoye’s hand moved instinctively to her chest, feeling the faint pulse of the sealed demon, a reminder of the pact she had unwittingly made for power. The responsibility weighed heavily on her. The knowledge that she could potentially unleash destruction of untold magnitude if she failed to control Ashura's will added a crushing pressure to her already taxed spirit.
Lying back down with a wince, she tried to steady her breathing and focus her mind. But the constant hum of Ashura’s malevolent will clashed against her own, a ceaseless battle that threatened to overwhelm her senses. She could feel the demon’s fury at being contained, seething and twisting inside her, searching for any weakness in her resolve. But it would find none. Despite this.. deterrent, Okoye's conviction was undaunted and undeterred. Ashura's thrashing for dominance would be for nought so long as Okoye drew breath; the rune drawn upon her flesh and bone consecrated their will into singularity. However.. upon her death, there is small chance that the spectral deviant would be alloted her body to use as it own. But that was a calamity for another day.. Should it succeed in helping her usurp her father's reign, then she would consider the price worth it whatever the tax.
As she lay there, gathering her strength, Okoye theorized how she would master the turmoil inside her. How exactly could she learn to coexist with Ashura’s darkness? She literally had to focus to tone out the eldritch whispers.. And from what she experienced, they grew louder when she slept. But as she wrestled with the balancing act of her own sanity sanity, Okoye suddenly remembered she wasn't the only person who endured that crucible. ”Ovan!” She thought to herself before she jolted out of her bed and unto her still wounded legs.
The pain from trying to crumbled her to a knee before she could make it to the door of her room, but she persisted. She nearly forgot about the man who was quite literally the reason she was here. Ovan proved himself beyond any story or fable written to his name.. and yet, she wasn't exactly sure if he survived their encounter. She was fraught with all manner of anxiety.. she didn't know she could care so much about someone she barely knew, but Okoye barely had any friends left. Everyone she ever came in contact with was either dead or her enemy.. She wanted to be used to losing people, yet here she was.. foolishly stumbling on the ground because a scholar may have died in battle. ”..get a hold of yourself.” She thought, as she used the wall to balance herself to her feet. She just needed to be sure he survived.. his death would do a number on her conscious, so she limped from her room to check if he was alright.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Okoye noticed her arms and torso were meticulously wrapped in bandages, the smell of medicinal herbs permeating the air around her. Her skin was slathered in a thick, pungent ointment, likely applied to soothe the wounds she had barely noticed she’d received during their escape.
Her thoughts drifted to the moment it happened, the instant she hijacked the Shackled Star's ancient power and sealed the beast within herself. And while the ritual worked to perfection, their came some unspoken clauses attached to the prize she sought. Upon sealing him, Okoye accrued not just a source of untold power, but a sentient, writhing force that now shared her every breath. Which, to be frank, was far more than she bargained for.
Outside, the sounds of the village stirring brought a measure of reality back to her senses. Life went on, oblivious to the cosmic struggle that played out within the confines of her room. Okoye’s hand moved instinctively to her chest, feeling the faint pulse of the sealed demon, a reminder of the pact she had unwittingly made for power. The responsibility weighed heavily on her. The knowledge that she could potentially unleash destruction of untold magnitude if she failed to control Ashura's will added a crushing pressure to her already taxed spirit.
Lying back down with a wince, she tried to steady her breathing and focus her mind. But the constant hum of Ashura’s malevolent will clashed against her own, a ceaseless battle that threatened to overwhelm her senses. She could feel the demon’s fury at being contained, seething and twisting inside her, searching for any weakness in her resolve. But it would find none. Despite this.. deterrent, Okoye's conviction was undaunted and undeterred. Ashura's thrashing for dominance would be for nought so long as Okoye drew breath; the rune drawn upon her flesh and bone consecrated their will into singularity. However.. upon her death, there is small chance that the spectral deviant would be alloted her body to use as it own. But that was a calamity for another day.. Should it succeed in helping her usurp her father's reign, then she would consider the price worth it whatever the tax.
As she lay there, gathering her strength, Okoye theorized how she would master the turmoil inside her. How exactly could she learn to coexist with Ashura’s darkness? She literally had to focus to tone out the eldritch whispers.. And from what she experienced, they grew louder when she slept. But as she wrestled with the balancing act of her own sanity sanity, Okoye suddenly remembered she wasn't the only person who endured that crucible. ”Ovan!” She thought to herself before she jolted out of her bed and unto her still wounded legs.
The pain from trying to crumbled her to a knee before she could make it to the door of her room, but she persisted. She nearly forgot about the man who was quite literally the reason she was here. Ovan proved himself beyond any story or fable written to his name.. and yet, she wasn't exactly sure if he survived their encounter. She was fraught with all manner of anxiety.. she didn't know she could care so much about someone she barely knew, but Okoye barely had any friends left. Everyone she ever came in contact with was either dead or her enemy.. She wanted to be used to losing people, yet here she was.. foolishly stumbling on the ground because a scholar may have died in battle. ”..get a hold of yourself.” She thought, as she used the wall to balance herself to her feet. She just needed to be sure he survived.. his death would do a number on her conscious, so she limped from her room to check if he was alright.
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Ovan Hellgate
- Drifter
- Posts: 37
- Joined: Sat Sep 17, 2022 1:21 pm
Re: Glory's Toll
"Yoohoo!"
Ovan and Frances walked through the doow of Okoye's room both bearing Cold Frontier's finest breakfast in bed combination. He could only imagine how jarring just being awake could feel for Okoye, chock full of an ancient evil he didn't think would have occupied his evening three nights ago. Little did he know he would be party to a force changing the geography of the Hyperion itself. The Pit, normally shrouded in a vicious whiteout bringing frigid death to most creatures foolish enough to ignore the very predictable weather patterns. Like a hurricane, the storm was the most dangerous in its outer reaches, but as they grew closer to the epicenter, The Pit, things calmed down somewhat. Their descent into the shrine of Ashura, the intriguing demon Okoye bound to her corporeal form. The eerie glow that emanated from the back of her neck, the fiery, oppresive energy that suffused the shrine, the eerie glow emanated from the sigils shattered with the defeat of each guardian, those energies had blended within her, a liquid nigh indiscernible from her corporeal form. His trained eyes caught glimpses of the feeling, but they were far and few between. Her aura was that of one possessed, but her clarity of mind from start to finish emboldened his assessment of the terrifying woman. If Ovan couldn't stand beside her confidently in battle, what hope would he have of being a competent Crown for the Horus?
Three days passed as he kept a watchful eye over her body laden with the spirit of an unspeakable evil. Frances cleared two rooms on either side of Okoye at Ovan's request and insistence. Though the sigils adorning her body and his own witness to this young lady subduing Ashura with just the proper encouraged him to not worry, the volatile nature of the energy within her now was better treated with care lest she ensnare a new clutch of guardians all her own.
The pair placed the trays on the table off near the corner, the same delicious tea from their first meeting steeping and some eggs, toast, bacon, and water ready for her to consume. Ovan was greeted with the same meal Frances greeted Ovan with three days prior. It was quite the ordeal, he wanted to devour the food, but was deterred by the shooting pain of a broken jaw silencing him and a fractured arm denying him reach to his utensils. Without David's libations for health, Ovan might have walked away from their adventure permanently impaired. A small price to pay to witness the kind of daring he felt he needed to become the Crown he was invited to be.
"You've been out for a minute, but I could tell you were stirring from the basement. Your aura started slipping into the neighboring rooms. How you feeling?"
Ovan made the Mudra of Separation outside the door before he and Frances knocked, making a light, cleansing aura around him that Frances could stand safe from the infectious energy of Ashura. Ovan felt fine, but sat in front of Frances on the other side of the room, positioning her in a corner where his aura could cover her easily. Okoye looked to have a handle on herself, but he couldn't forgive himself if Frances got hurt doing her job and him a favor.
Ovan and Frances walked through the doow of Okoye's room both bearing Cold Frontier's finest breakfast in bed combination. He could only imagine how jarring just being awake could feel for Okoye, chock full of an ancient evil he didn't think would have occupied his evening three nights ago. Little did he know he would be party to a force changing the geography of the Hyperion itself. The Pit, normally shrouded in a vicious whiteout bringing frigid death to most creatures foolish enough to ignore the very predictable weather patterns. Like a hurricane, the storm was the most dangerous in its outer reaches, but as they grew closer to the epicenter, The Pit, things calmed down somewhat. Their descent into the shrine of Ashura, the intriguing demon Okoye bound to her corporeal form. The eerie glow that emanated from the back of her neck, the fiery, oppresive energy that suffused the shrine, the eerie glow emanated from the sigils shattered with the defeat of each guardian, those energies had blended within her, a liquid nigh indiscernible from her corporeal form. His trained eyes caught glimpses of the feeling, but they were far and few between. Her aura was that of one possessed, but her clarity of mind from start to finish emboldened his assessment of the terrifying woman. If Ovan couldn't stand beside her confidently in battle, what hope would he have of being a competent Crown for the Horus?
Three days passed as he kept a watchful eye over her body laden with the spirit of an unspeakable evil. Frances cleared two rooms on either side of Okoye at Ovan's request and insistence. Though the sigils adorning her body and his own witness to this young lady subduing Ashura with just the proper encouraged him to not worry, the volatile nature of the energy within her now was better treated with care lest she ensnare a new clutch of guardians all her own.
The pair placed the trays on the table off near the corner, the same delicious tea from their first meeting steeping and some eggs, toast, bacon, and water ready for her to consume. Ovan was greeted with the same meal Frances greeted Ovan with three days prior. It was quite the ordeal, he wanted to devour the food, but was deterred by the shooting pain of a broken jaw silencing him and a fractured arm denying him reach to his utensils. Without David's libations for health, Ovan might have walked away from their adventure permanently impaired. A small price to pay to witness the kind of daring he felt he needed to become the Crown he was invited to be.
"You've been out for a minute, but I could tell you were stirring from the basement. Your aura started slipping into the neighboring rooms. How you feeling?"
Ovan made the Mudra of Separation outside the door before he and Frances knocked, making a light, cleansing aura around him that Frances could stand safe from the infectious energy of Ashura. Ovan felt fine, but sat in front of Frances on the other side of the room, positioning her in a corner where his aura could cover her easily. Okoye looked to have a handle on herself, but he couldn't forgive himself if Frances got hurt doing her job and him a favor.
"You collapsed under the weight of idealism, nothing to be ashamed of. Happens to all of us, not just the best of us. " - Sorith, Horus Crown
Ovan's Attire
"Ovan's Theme"
Ovan's Attire
"Ovan's Theme"
Re: Glory's Toll
Okoye was still struggling to maintain her balance. The dim light filtering through the room cast long shadows that added to the solemn atmosphere. The air felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty, each of her labored breaths a reminder of the precariousness of her situation. Yet, amidst the quietude, Okoye's mind churned with worry for Ovan, his fate a question mark that loomed over her.
The thought of him lying injured or worse sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a fierce urgency within her. She couldn't bear the idea of losing someone else, especially someone who had shown her such kindness in the midst of chaos.. for no reason other than his own altruism. A human man at that.
Startled, Okoye's eyes widened to see Ovan and Frances entering her room, their figures bathed in a soft glow. In their hands, they carried trays laden with breakfast delicacies, a tantalizing aroma wafting through the air.
The sight of them brought a mix of relief and gratitude to her heart. Ovan especially. She couldn't help but feel a sense of indebtedness to him, for his support and unwavering commitment to her safety. Frances, too, had been a steadfast companion, her presence a sense of comfort from the moment she arrived in her inn. Despite her turmoil, Okoye managed a weak smile as they set the trays down.
”Tired.. hungry..and grateful.” Okoye responded through the psionic channel granted from her earrings, taking the opportunity to grab the tray and gingerly return to her bed. ”Ovan.. I-I can't thank you enough. I'm really happy you're alright.”
Her stomach howled from the collection of delicious scents. Being asleep for three days allowed Okoye's regenerative abilities to properly mend her physical wounds without much medical attention. But her body was absolutely exhausted because of it. She couldn't keep herself from scarfing down as much food as she could fit in her mouth, unaware of how brutish she came off. It felt as if she hadn't eaten in weeks.. years even, if that could be possible. Like there was a hole in her stomach. She was.. unimaginably hungry.
".. is there any more food?"
The thought of him lying injured or worse sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a fierce urgency within her. She couldn't bear the idea of losing someone else, especially someone who had shown her such kindness in the midst of chaos.. for no reason other than his own altruism. A human man at that.
But before she could reach the doorknob, a sudden voice shattered the silence, breaking through her reverie like a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds."Yoohoo!"
Startled, Okoye's eyes widened to see Ovan and Frances entering her room, their figures bathed in a soft glow. In their hands, they carried trays laden with breakfast delicacies, a tantalizing aroma wafting through the air.
The sight of them brought a mix of relief and gratitude to her heart. Ovan especially. She couldn't help but feel a sense of indebtedness to him, for his support and unwavering commitment to her safety. Frances, too, had been a steadfast companion, her presence a sense of comfort from the moment she arrived in her inn. Despite her turmoil, Okoye managed a weak smile as they set the trays down.
"You've been out for a minute, but I could tell you were stirring from the basement. Your aura started slipping into the neighboring rooms. How you feeling?”
”Tired.. hungry..and grateful.” Okoye responded through the psionic channel granted from her earrings, taking the opportunity to grab the tray and gingerly return to her bed. ”Ovan.. I-I can't thank you enough. I'm really happy you're alright.”
Her stomach howled from the collection of delicious scents. Being asleep for three days allowed Okoye's regenerative abilities to properly mend her physical wounds without much medical attention. But her body was absolutely exhausted because of it. She couldn't keep herself from scarfing down as much food as she could fit in her mouth, unaware of how brutish she came off. It felt as if she hadn't eaten in weeks.. years even, if that could be possible. Like there was a hole in her stomach. She was.. unimaginably hungry.
".. is there any more food?"