Post by astralguardian on Oct 13, 2005 13:21:40 GMT -5
From within the hall, that dark, blackness-shrouded hall of shadows and whispers, The black-clad figure stands firm in front of the gothic cathedral doors looming high above the weathered marble steps. It is his gate, his domain, his sanctuary. The black leather jacket ripples and flaps at his calves from the unseen currents. Cold air and the rumble of thunder in the distance surround the man, his brow furrowed above the mirrored sunglasses that wrap around his face. Above, the rain clouds lumber into the distance illuminated by flickers of purple lightning. The lighting is surreal here, it’s not natural, but glossed over with a strange gloom and lightly hazed by a wisp of fog.
Slowly he breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The chiseled cheeks winced upwards in a scowl, mostly hidden by the sunglasses. Just beyond the sunglasses, a hint of red glows in slow, fading pulses. The silver cross hangs from his throat with a black leather strap.
From within the shadow beyond the black leather clad man, a low rumblish rhythm matches the heartbeat and breathing of the man followed by the dim flicker of blue orbs that seems to snake upwards into the shadow. A slim beam of lightning exposes a dark blue leathered wing folded inwards against a scale covered beast. With a second flash if purple light, the figure of a dragon turns his horned head silently towards the mysterious figure, his scales wet from the recently ceased rain.
The ominous man lifts his arms and rain drenched hands into the air. A silver ring on his right hand drips of cold rain water. He gazes at his gothic gateway, the portal to his sanctuary, and the circle of guardianship. His right hand then lowers and pulls a blade of steal from underneath the leather trench coat. He raises the blade to his eyes and breathes deeply. A growl greets the glistening sword from behind the man. Around the sword forms a blue and purple haze. It writhes and swirls around the long bladed sword like a living spirit. Tendrils of the mist seem to come from underneath the trench coat and dance upon the blade and ground surrounding him. Fingers of the purple and blue mist ripple towards the scaled creature in the shadows, who stands as a statue allowing the mist to snake around it’s massive limbs and neck.
A blue crackle snaps at the cold, damp air from the man’s right hand. The spikes of energy sting the handle and pommel of the massive sword handle carved and formed into the wings of a dragon. The hilt’s features dance in the crackling energy, it dragon head breathing an etched fire along the powerful blade. Scale-covered hands and claws grasp at orbs along the end of the pommel, with two scale etched limbs meeting in the middle of the pommel. Skulls etched along the different colored metal keep guard at each end of the detail-etched handle made of silver. The man’s hand holds tightly onto the wrapped serpents bodies that cover the silver surface.
A sneer and a quick, deep breath in come suddenly from behind the man, then bursts into a hellish roar that cuts through the air. It subsides into a snarlish growl as a tail unwinds within the shadows.
“This sword has never been brought forth in anger, nor vengeance. With the powers that be, which surround and flow though me, I will never draw it’s power in anger, nor vengeance. The ritual which I speak, this sword the symbol and conduit. This sword the faith, this sword the will, to protect the gateways.”
“Through love, through honor, through faith I stand as the guardian. This sword, the conduit, the faith, the will, to protect the gateways.”
The man then turns the sword, blade tip downward and rams it into the marble below. Sparks jut upwards from the flakes of marble breaking lose.
“Don’t you come back now, don’t you turn your eyes. And if you dare to look, I’ll be waiting.
“You’ll hear my prayer, don’t turn your eyes, and if you dare to move, I’ll be waiting.”
“You’ll hear my prayer, don’t turn back now, and if you dare to look, I’ll be waiting.”
“ You’ll hear my prayer, I’ll be waiting.”
This sword, the ward…… this sword…. The Warning.
“My faith is strong, my faith is pathed upon the currents of life, upon a different plane than yours. I fear no return and I fear no consequence. I fear no fate.
“I’ll be the conduit for your threefold, willingly, gratefully.”
“This sword the ward.”
“This sword, your warning.”
Slowly he breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The chiseled cheeks winced upwards in a scowl, mostly hidden by the sunglasses. Just beyond the sunglasses, a hint of red glows in slow, fading pulses. The silver cross hangs from his throat with a black leather strap.
From within the shadow beyond the black leather clad man, a low rumblish rhythm matches the heartbeat and breathing of the man followed by the dim flicker of blue orbs that seems to snake upwards into the shadow. A slim beam of lightning exposes a dark blue leathered wing folded inwards against a scale covered beast. With a second flash if purple light, the figure of a dragon turns his horned head silently towards the mysterious figure, his scales wet from the recently ceased rain.
The ominous man lifts his arms and rain drenched hands into the air. A silver ring on his right hand drips of cold rain water. He gazes at his gothic gateway, the portal to his sanctuary, and the circle of guardianship. His right hand then lowers and pulls a blade of steal from underneath the leather trench coat. He raises the blade to his eyes and breathes deeply. A growl greets the glistening sword from behind the man. Around the sword forms a blue and purple haze. It writhes and swirls around the long bladed sword like a living spirit. Tendrils of the mist seem to come from underneath the trench coat and dance upon the blade and ground surrounding him. Fingers of the purple and blue mist ripple towards the scaled creature in the shadows, who stands as a statue allowing the mist to snake around it’s massive limbs and neck.
A blue crackle snaps at the cold, damp air from the man’s right hand. The spikes of energy sting the handle and pommel of the massive sword handle carved and formed into the wings of a dragon. The hilt’s features dance in the crackling energy, it dragon head breathing an etched fire along the powerful blade. Scale-covered hands and claws grasp at orbs along the end of the pommel, with two scale etched limbs meeting in the middle of the pommel. Skulls etched along the different colored metal keep guard at each end of the detail-etched handle made of silver. The man’s hand holds tightly onto the wrapped serpents bodies that cover the silver surface.
A sneer and a quick, deep breath in come suddenly from behind the man, then bursts into a hellish roar that cuts through the air. It subsides into a snarlish growl as a tail unwinds within the shadows.
“This sword has never been brought forth in anger, nor vengeance. With the powers that be, which surround and flow though me, I will never draw it’s power in anger, nor vengeance. The ritual which I speak, this sword the symbol and conduit. This sword the faith, this sword the will, to protect the gateways.”
“Through love, through honor, through faith I stand as the guardian. This sword, the conduit, the faith, the will, to protect the gateways.”
The man then turns the sword, blade tip downward and rams it into the marble below. Sparks jut upwards from the flakes of marble breaking lose.
“Don’t you come back now, don’t you turn your eyes. And if you dare to look, I’ll be waiting.
“You’ll hear my prayer, don’t turn your eyes, and if you dare to move, I’ll be waiting.”
“You’ll hear my prayer, don’t turn back now, and if you dare to look, I’ll be waiting.”
“ You’ll hear my prayer, I’ll be waiting.”
This sword, the ward…… this sword…. The Warning.
“My faith is strong, my faith is pathed upon the currents of life, upon a different plane than yours. I fear no return and I fear no consequence. I fear no fate.
“I’ll be the conduit for your threefold, willingly, gratefully.”
“This sword the ward.”
“This sword, your warning.”
