» Labyrinth of Dreams, tag: Tristan
TEPES
 Posted: Mar 17 2012, 05:54 PM


"The Changeling"

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Posts: 12
Gold: 65
Member No.: 145
Joined: 5-March 12

Land of Residence: Beyond the Pit
Title of Position: Outrider

OOC Player Name: Opa
Online/Offline Status: Offline


The snow was cold as he touched it, yet it did not bite him. He looked at it curiously, at how it reflected the light from the sun, at its crystalline beauty. How fragile it was... It wasn't like the walls of Grisial Palas, icy spires that rose from the mountain, nigh transparent in their purity, yet so solid. None could break through such barrier, he had been assured. He had watched as a man, seemingly strong, tried to break through his cage, his pounding muffled, for the cage had no holes through which sound might escape... or air enter. The man had died choking to death. They all did, when they were put in the cages. Able to see them outside, staring at this odd creature, that felt so warm. They hated it, but would not admit it. It made them realize how empty they were... and so their solution was to either destroy, or strip the fear away. She had done it for him, she had said, while caressing his hair, as a mother would. She loved him, she said, he was dear to her, she said... but did words such as these bear any weight, when the one saying them could not feel? Such questions he asked himself as he begun to write in the snow. They had taught him that, their language, the curious symbols. He was her child, wasn't he? Yet he always remembered another time... they could not take it away, not that time. He remembered a woman who had also been his mother, whose embrace was warmer than the one he had in Grisial Palas. Had her name been Ailis? Yes... But Gwenneth was his now, she had said so. And her word, she always meant it. He could hear her silver voice call him, and he turned to answer...

He was in a forest. No, not a forest… The forest, the one where he had lost himself, at the feet of the tall mountains, where they had found him. He looked around himself and could hear their faint laughs and speech, as they traveled all around him. He thought he heard a baby’s cry too… Had someone else lost their way here? Perhaps they were being hunted, another of their cruel games. He felt… apprehension. How odd… or was it the memory of the place, the memory of the emotions he had felt on that day? An echo of something he had lost? Echo of something they had taken… Cold, the river, terror… gone. They had taken the fear away. He begun to walk among the woods, his eyes seeking something, anything, that might help him find his way. It was then he found his father. He had always had only one father, a man that had loved him… and then hated him when he had returned. Tepes did not understand the change, or perhaps he did; they had changed him, it was undeniable. Now he was standing before him, as angry as he had been when leaving after the clan had exiled them, after they had grown too afraid of the Changeling. Was it the nightmares that plagued him? He had drawn those on himself, by treating Tepes with such hostility… It was not that he cared about his survival, not really, not since they had taken the fear away… But he did want to see this story to its end… see how it would all end. Besides, he felt his part was not yet done, and what kind of actor would he be, to leave before his appointed time? Now he saw his broken corpse, after he had pushed him off… yet instead of his mother Ailis, it was Gwenneth he felt approach him, and just as she was about to touch him…


He woke up in the Outrider camp. For Tepes, waking from a dream was a very subtle thing. No gasp, no sudden rise from his position, nothing, except that his eyes opened suddenly, without warning. He looked around him and rose quietly, as silent as a ghost might be... or as they were. The Tylwyth, it was the name they wore, their title, just as his was Changeling. It suited him, did it not? The legends spoke of children stolen by the Haunters, the strange creatures that lurked in the night, when it was cold, who would, for their own wicked reasons, steal away children… and exchange them with their own. Tepes knew Tylwyth would not give their own children so… they were rare. What the legends referred to, however, were probably children such as him. Returned to their families either because they had escaped, like he had, or they had been sent back out of malice, as cold and empty as the ones who had taken them away… empty of warmth and love. Sometimes the role of parents was too much to even these accomplished actors, it would seem. Was he supposed to be amused at the thought? He walked outside, his look empty, and was met with the familiar embrace of outside cold. Since having the fear taken away, Tepes had never been warm, even when sitting beside a fire, or in the embrace of his mother, Ailis. Gwenneth had always felt cold.

He walked away from the place that served as his temporary home. They moved a lot, the Outriders, something that suited Tepes just fine. If they had stayed in one place for too long, his mother and the others serving her would find him, and while not afraid of that prospect, he would feel slight disappointment were he not to find out any more of this particular story, before going back to the icy halls of Grisial Palas. The memories of his time before still haunted him… yet something was missing. Finding his mother again should have given him some form of completion, made him feel accomplished… yet it had not. Something was missing… was it the fear? Fear… and all it implied? He stopped, suddenly, as he walked, and looked around again. When he had found his intended destination, he begun to walk once more, his footprints barely deforming the snow under his weight. They had raised him to be like them. It had been difficult at first, but what else was he supposed to do? They had taken the fear away.

Eventually he arrived to Tristan’s own home, as it were, and entered, his passing as quiet and cold as the whisper of the northern wind. Had it spoken his name? Was she calling him still? Moving like a ghost, he arrived where Tristan slept. He stood there, looking at the man. What was he dreaming? He did not treat Tepes badly… so he did not get nightmares. Still… he was curious. Perhaps he should ask him. No, he had come for another reason. “Are we going to practice hunting again?” he asked. His voice was quiet, and devoid of any emotion. The fact that he was intruding, and talking to a man that appeared to be sleeping, did not bother Tepes. He had spoken to sleeping along with dead ones before. It was something Gwenneth had told him, that their kind could do, speak to them, make them obey… She had made him try, but there had been nothing. Instead they had ended up going on a hunt, a wild hunt, where they would capture any still out at night, away from the protection of rivers, wards and obsidian. Tepes blinked, and went back to the present story. The-Man-Who-Hated-Kings still had to play his part, whatever it was, and the youth possessed a faint curiosity as to what it might entailed.

Wake, Enemy-Of-Lords, leave Tir o Freuddwydion and play your part.” he spoke, more than he usually did. Perhaps impatience made him speak more... impatience... he had not felt that in a while. But was it really? Or was it hope, misguided as it might be, that he could feel something, anything?

Hope. Another thing he hadn't felt in a long time.
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Tristan
 Posted: Mar 21 2012, 10:43 PM


Ruler of the Outriders

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Posts: 9
Gold: 50
Member No.: 52
Joined: 25-August 11

Land of Residence: Outside the Pit of Snowden
Title of Position: Elected Ruler

OOC Player Name: Lu
Online/Offline Status: Offline


Sleep came fretfully to Tristan, it could never claim him for longer than a few hours there was always something that needed dealing with and sleep left him vulnerable. It was why the right hand side of his bed was reserved for the long great sword normally secured down his back and a dagger hidden amongst the furs that he rested his head upon. The wooden hut where he resided in this village was one of the larger ones, lined with furs from animals that had been either their food or desperate enough to attack, animals that those on the other side of the pit had not dreamed of. Soon it would lay bare apart from the furniture when they moved deeper into the forest, there were stirrings at the pit. Patrols had been seen growing in their boldness, his group had stayed too long and if they had to reclaim what was rightfully theirs when they moved to another of their camps then the noise of battle would attract those they'd rather avoid. The wardings would have to be renewed as well, it would take time. Some may grumble about the moving territories but better to move than to be found.

The whisper of footfalls on the floor made him stir, stretching till his fingers enclosed on the cold steel hilt of his dagger. His mind still claimed by the foggy folds of sleep but his senses were keen. There were few who walked so softly in camp, not to mention the coil of coldness that had snaked its way around the room, it could only of been Tepes. There were plenty amongst the Outriders that took issue at the presence of Tepes in their midst, they said he was different and attributed the nightmares that plagued their nights to him. Tristan had growled at every complaint that had come his way, Tepes was a part of them now he afforded the same protection as they were entitled too but that would probably not stop some inflicting their version of retribution on the lad. So the young one was allowed certain liberties, one of them being the freedom of Tristan's quarters. He'd also decided to take some of Tepes training into his own hands, the boy was bright, incredibly so, he learnt fast and was already well a head of those his age.

Pulling the furs further up he denied his eyes the world, keeping the peaceful façade of sleep going. He could feel Tepes watching him, those icy blue eyes which felt like they could pierce into the very depths of peoples souls, fortunately Tristan did not believe he had one any more, he had traded it for this life. Not all at once but piece by piece he'd lost it. He could live with that, as long as he kept his freedom. Something made him hesitate when answering, it was so rare to hear Tepes voice that he had to stop a smile. Too soon to give up the game but the boy was damn insistent. It was almost a shock to hear him speak again so soon, he rolled onto his back facing the boy with a small smile then sat up. "Hail Little One." Tristan greeted him grabbing the loose shirt draped the roughly built wooden chair by his bed, glad he'd slept in pants. Tugging it on he rose ignoring Tepes demanding presence as he readied himself. He knew the child watched everything, you could feel his gaze upon you, it made Tristan do everything with more care especially when it came to securing his weapons about his person. With his long sword fastened it made it difficult to sling his bow and quiver on his back but eventually everything fit with easy access, he handed Tepes a small bower with his own quiver. The boy was proficient enough at stealth to be able to blend with the surrounding forest, how to move unseen and unheard to now be taught how to shoot. "Come then. A hunting we shall go."

No one stirred in the village, all that could be seen was the figures of Tristan and Tepes. The older males eyes constantly moving over everything, he was anxious to be out amongst the wilds but leaving the village always made him wary. If something were to happen whilst he was away it would be on his head, this did not stop him though, there were others to step into a role he had not asked for. Crushing his voice to meet the sound of his breathing so Tepes alone would hear, "Watch out for hunters and scouts, I want to know if they notice us and their positions." It was a test for both the boys and those that were guarding the village, if Tepes could spot them they needed to hide better. That was no a comment upon his skill, the child was naturally observant. The elite would not be seen and Tristan wanted nothing but the elite.

His posture changed as they went deeper into the undergrowth, his feet were placed carefully and soundless as to leave no tracks. Ahead twigs had been snapped off a branch and cropped grass stood in patches, snatched here and there. "Find it!" Uttering so not to disturb any beast that lingered.
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TEPES
 Posted: Mar 31 2012, 10:31 PM


"The Changeling"

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Posts: 12
Gold: 65
Member No.: 145
Joined: 5-March 12

Land of Residence: Beyond the Pit
Title of Position: Outrider

OOC Player Name: Opa
Online/Offline Status: Offline


There may have been a flicker in his eyes as Tristan woke and answered, upon being called "Little One" by the man. It might have been amusement, the kind that one would feel upon one of their favourite characters of a particular story said something funny. He liked Enemy-Of-Lords, or Tristan as the man was called by the other actors in the play that was their mortal existence. He watched, expressionless, as the man moved to gather his weapons and secure them on his person. The North was a dangerous place, of course, and the fools who underestimated it hardly ever became characters that Tepes might bother to know. They certainly weren't people, the Tylwyth had made it clear, with their games played often at the expanse of human lives. Perhaps Tristan would have survived the games, or avoid being caught. He was curious to see what might bring down the man, in the end, what would bring the adventure that was his life to an end. Would it be underestimating a foe? A betrayal? Tragic love perhaps? He did not know, but he did intend to find out. To do so, he would have to know how to take care of himself, of his body through which he might experience the story that was his. Besides, he might not have a cliff nearby to push someone down, should he need to kill again. The fact that it had been his father barely registered in the child's mind.

Tepes took the bow that was offered and followed Tristan out, back in the deeper cold of the night. At Tristan's orders, Tepes nodded, though in truth, Tepes rarely followed them, with the exception of when he was being taught... if it did not sound utterly stupid to his ears. As it was, he listened and decided he would follow Tristan's words, if only out of faint curiosity to whether he would succeed or not. His mother and her kind had been like ghosts, yet the other Outriders were also skilled in the arts of stealth, their survival depended on it. And so the child's cold, piercing gaze swept upon the land around him, seeking some hints that might betray the presence of hidden Outriders. It was not easy, but he did notice some signs. "A depression in the snow there, and there's this rock over there that isn't a rock. And up that tree there, the slight shimmering of crystallized air." he pointed out, each a sign of someone, Outrider or not, present. With the proximity to the camp, Tepes was quite sure those would be the men posted on the lookout. He did not care whether they did their job or not, it was not important to Tepes. If he was to die in the night, his throat slit by another Outsider, due to the lookouts outside not having done their job, he would not feel any emotion. Perhaps a slight irritation.

When Tristan pointed out the marks, Tepes looked down, observing them, and if possible... froze. He became absolutely still, staring at the marks, ones he had seen before, in another place, another time... another world, if one felt poetic. "You don't find them, they find you." he answered. He was not afraid, they had taken the fear away. But he did feel... colder. As cold as he did when his mother stroked his hair, when he was back there, with the Tylwyth. The Ancients, as the Outsiders called them, in their legends and tales. Between the Ancients and the Wild Hunt, it was hard to tell which the Outsiders feared the most. "They use mountain cats to hunt, like the lords of the south use dogs. If one was here, a Tylwyth, an Ancient, was here as well." he said, his voice as cold as the climate in which they lived in. He wondered if it was luck or some hint that had escaped him. How could they know where he was? No, this wasn't about him, it couldn't be. Unless she was still playing her role of the mother? He looked around, quickly, his gaze trying to find any hint as to whether the Tylwyth might still be around. Then he turned back to Tristan, and regarded him with eyes that had seen much, too much. "It may be that Tir o Freuddwydion should have kept you longer, Enemy-Of-Lords.
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