- Thread starter
- #251
((I have his form saved on my real comp, I'll upload it when I get back to it. Also if you guys want to update any character forms/bios just let me know, or if you want to add any.
))
Nal'T could hear them and he felt his heart racing. He struggled, strapped into the tight, wooden chair, the iron bands on his wrist biting into his blue flesh and dripping with his blood. He could feel each of the wounds that they had inflicted, deep, rotting wounds. But they were nothing compared to the fear. He was a creature of open spaces, of light, he knew that much. But here they had him, strapped down in a room only large enough for his chair, the darkness so deep he saw visions swimming before his eyes. He didn't know how long he had been in this room, couldn't remember where he had been when the Elves captured him. That was his curse, you see, he could only recall back a fortnight and a fortnight only. His memory stretched no further back. Memories of people, places, events, they were out of his grasp. But he could recall key things, the names of things, for one, the ways of things for another. He was not like an infant, clueless and vulnerable, he could defend himself, could kill his opponents easily. He knew that he had killed, had killed countless creatures, but he did not know why. He only knew that he had. He knew that the Elves were in power, that they were lead by a fiend named Qualair, he knew that his own people were few and far between. He knew that the Elves had killed the Dragons and the Wildlings, believed that he may have even partook of that war himself. But the personal things, if he had ever known his mother, where he had been as a child, if he had ever known a lover. He could feel tears streaming down his face and he did not care, he was weak, he was foolish. And he did not care. It had always been that way, that he did know, this curse of memory. Somewhere in the world his opposite lived and she had the true power. The Jinn that had robbed him of a normal life. That was the way of his people. A D'Jinn to every Jinn, Each one another's opposites in every way. Normally that meant altered personalities, different elements. Water to fire, earth to air. But every so often there is born a set of 'Twins' that are different from the rest. The balance is unequal, instead of two beings, strong in their own right, normal in their own way, one of the twins is powerful. He or she robs from their opposite a power and it magnifies their own. Nal'T was such a D'Jinn. He was the weaker twin, he had lost his memories to his Jinn. He could alter the flow of water, that was his element. And the ability of it was laughable. What he could control was a mist, a faint drizzle. No more. There were kinfolk of his out there that could start a typhoon and he could make dew on a tree. His one true power was his blood. It could cause others to forget, could rob them of their memories. But it was not permanent, his blood had to be injected every fortnight or the effects wore off. So they came to him every day, the Elves, and they nearly drained him dry. Then a healer would come in and dress his wounds and give him some sort of vial concoction mixed by a machine. His blood would be restored and the whole process would begin again the next day. He had no idea how long this routine had been carried on, but his body felt as though it had been years. He could hear them opening the door, heard a very familiar sound. They had brought water. His heart stopped and his eyes shot open wide as they threw back the door. He blinked at the two of them, his vision blurry and the light stinging his eyes. One of them reached for his arm with a needle, the other, his guard no doubt, started to tip back a glass of water. Nal'T squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all of his power on the glass. The Elves screamed as the glass exploded, cutting the one with the needle in the neck. Nal'T called the water to him, coating his wrists and ripping them free from the shackles. The guard blinked at him in surprise and he grabbed the syringe, slamming it into the forehead of the guard. He then slammed his bare foot down on the edge of a large glass shard. The shard flipped up into the air and the D'Jinn rammed it with his knee, burying it deep in the Elf's chest. The guard fell without a sound and Nal'T stood there, looking into his small cell. It was no more than a closet, the thick oak door latched with a simple clasp. They had underestimated him. He smiled, knowing that it had been his plan all along. He liked it when people underestimated him, it gave him the upper hand. He could not remember what he had done to warrant such a flimsy cell, but he was thankful for it. He picked up his guard's cloak, gloves, and spear, silently padding down the hall, the small amount of water trailing after him like a hound. It wasn't much, hardly anything at all, but it had saved him, had surprised the Elves. He grinned again, just as he would. He walked past a viewing window and stopped, seeing a Wildling caged down below him. He bit his lip, his kind heart wrenching. Without a second thought he stabbed the control with his spear, laughing as the shield shimmered and melted away. "Wildling! Freedom is yours if you will have it!" His voice was hoarse and frail, unused for only God knew how long. He held his hand out, not quite sure how he expected the Wilding to get up to him. In truth he had merely meant it as a gesture. But to his shock the Maid leapt up onto the vanity, springing onto it's mirror and launching herself at the stone wall. In seconds she had scaled it, grasping his hand and pulling herself up beside him. "Thank you. They call me Ellayn, I am not sure if that is my true name or not, but that is what they call me. I can't remember what I was really named." He nodded, bowing deeply. "I am Nal,T and I am afraid that it is because of me that you do not remember." The Wildling Maid leapt back, nearly falling back into her prison. He grabbed her arm without thinking, his sleeve rising to reveal his own strangely hued arm. She stared at in shock for a moment, her beautiful eyes wide. "You are a D'Jinn! You used your magic on me." He shook his head, not feeling like explaining to her that neither D'Jinns of Jinns could use magic. That their abilities were no different than a Dragon changing form. "The Elves injected you with my blood, it causes your memories to fade away. It's only temporary though, so you shall be able to recall everything within a fortnight, maybe sooner. We had best be going now. We can go different ways if you wish..." She grabbed his spear, breaking it in half over her knee and handing his the tipped end back. She spun the staff as to test it, striking the air as though she was cracking open a skull. She darted down the hall, stopping before she rounded a corner and looking at him over his shoulder. "If you are coming hurry along, your magic could come in handy, D'Jinn." Nal'T felt the urge to argue magic again but shook his head, speeding after the strange Wildling Maid.
Nal'T could hear them and he felt his heart racing. He struggled, strapped into the tight, wooden chair, the iron bands on his wrist biting into his blue flesh and dripping with his blood. He could feel each of the wounds that they had inflicted, deep, rotting wounds. But they were nothing compared to the fear. He was a creature of open spaces, of light, he knew that much. But here they had him, strapped down in a room only large enough for his chair, the darkness so deep he saw visions swimming before his eyes. He didn't know how long he had been in this room, couldn't remember where he had been when the Elves captured him. That was his curse, you see, he could only recall back a fortnight and a fortnight only. His memory stretched no further back. Memories of people, places, events, they were out of his grasp. But he could recall key things, the names of things, for one, the ways of things for another. He was not like an infant, clueless and vulnerable, he could defend himself, could kill his opponents easily. He knew that he had killed, had killed countless creatures, but he did not know why. He only knew that he had. He knew that the Elves were in power, that they were lead by a fiend named Qualair, he knew that his own people were few and far between. He knew that the Elves had killed the Dragons and the Wildlings, believed that he may have even partook of that war himself. But the personal things, if he had ever known his mother, where he had been as a child, if he had ever known a lover. He could feel tears streaming down his face and he did not care, he was weak, he was foolish. And he did not care. It had always been that way, that he did know, this curse of memory. Somewhere in the world his opposite lived and she had the true power. The Jinn that had robbed him of a normal life. That was the way of his people. A D'Jinn to every Jinn, Each one another's opposites in every way. Normally that meant altered personalities, different elements. Water to fire, earth to air. But every so often there is born a set of 'Twins' that are different from the rest. The balance is unequal, instead of two beings, strong in their own right, normal in their own way, one of the twins is powerful. He or she robs from their opposite a power and it magnifies their own. Nal'T was such a D'Jinn. He was the weaker twin, he had lost his memories to his Jinn. He could alter the flow of water, that was his element. And the ability of it was laughable. What he could control was a mist, a faint drizzle. No more. There were kinfolk of his out there that could start a typhoon and he could make dew on a tree. His one true power was his blood. It could cause others to forget, could rob them of their memories. But it was not permanent, his blood had to be injected every fortnight or the effects wore off. So they came to him every day, the Elves, and they nearly drained him dry. Then a healer would come in and dress his wounds and give him some sort of vial concoction mixed by a machine. His blood would be restored and the whole process would begin again the next day. He had no idea how long this routine had been carried on, but his body felt as though it had been years. He could hear them opening the door, heard a very familiar sound. They had brought water. His heart stopped and his eyes shot open wide as they threw back the door. He blinked at the two of them, his vision blurry and the light stinging his eyes. One of them reached for his arm with a needle, the other, his guard no doubt, started to tip back a glass of water. Nal'T squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all of his power on the glass. The Elves screamed as the glass exploded, cutting the one with the needle in the neck. Nal'T called the water to him, coating his wrists and ripping them free from the shackles. The guard blinked at him in surprise and he grabbed the syringe, slamming it into the forehead of the guard. He then slammed his bare foot down on the edge of a large glass shard. The shard flipped up into the air and the D'Jinn rammed it with his knee, burying it deep in the Elf's chest. The guard fell without a sound and Nal'T stood there, looking into his small cell. It was no more than a closet, the thick oak door latched with a simple clasp. They had underestimated him. He smiled, knowing that it had been his plan all along. He liked it when people underestimated him, it gave him the upper hand. He could not remember what he had done to warrant such a flimsy cell, but he was thankful for it. He picked up his guard's cloak, gloves, and spear, silently padding down the hall, the small amount of water trailing after him like a hound. It wasn't much, hardly anything at all, but it had saved him, had surprised the Elves. He grinned again, just as he would. He walked past a viewing window and stopped, seeing a Wildling caged down below him. He bit his lip, his kind heart wrenching. Without a second thought he stabbed the control with his spear, laughing as the shield shimmered and melted away. "Wildling! Freedom is yours if you will have it!" His voice was hoarse and frail, unused for only God knew how long. He held his hand out, not quite sure how he expected the Wilding to get up to him. In truth he had merely meant it as a gesture. But to his shock the Maid leapt up onto the vanity, springing onto it's mirror and launching herself at the stone wall. In seconds she had scaled it, grasping his hand and pulling herself up beside him. "Thank you. They call me Ellayn, I am not sure if that is my true name or not, but that is what they call me. I can't remember what I was really named." He nodded, bowing deeply. "I am Nal,T and I am afraid that it is because of me that you do not remember." The Wildling Maid leapt back, nearly falling back into her prison. He grabbed her arm without thinking, his sleeve rising to reveal his own strangely hued arm. She stared at in shock for a moment, her beautiful eyes wide. "You are a D'Jinn! You used your magic on me." He shook his head, not feeling like explaining to her that neither D'Jinns of Jinns could use magic. That their abilities were no different than a Dragon changing form. "The Elves injected you with my blood, it causes your memories to fade away. It's only temporary though, so you shall be able to recall everything within a fortnight, maybe sooner. We had best be going now. We can go different ways if you wish..." She grabbed his spear, breaking it in half over her knee and handing his the tipped end back. She spun the staff as to test it, striking the air as though she was cracking open a skull. She darted down the hall, stopping before she rounded a corner and looking at him over his shoulder. "If you are coming hurry along, your magic could come in handy, D'Jinn." Nal'T felt the urge to argue magic again but shook his head, speeding after the strange Wildling Maid.
