Perecelsus Corvinus : The Dream, and the Flight of the Crow
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Player Name: JonNwN
Character Name: Perecelsus CorvinusThe air was hot and humid, katy-dids hummed their harsh song in the air. The tall brown grasses of the plain waved back and forth in the sitff breeze.
The man crouched in those grasses, his gold and brown clothes melted his form into them, the grasses he tied to himself blurring the harss lines of his body. His small calvary bow stood limbered and ready, and arrow nocked in its string, He crept forward on his stomach, the grasses scratching at his bared arms. He pulled himself to the lip of the ravine ahead, the river churning beneathing, pounding away at the rock below, as it had always done. The man narrowed his eyes, the enchanment upon them hard at work. He turned his gaze far out to the east, toward the road. There, a cloud of dust rose up high, and he saw them then, lines of men, thousands of infantry, the tips of pikes and spears gleaming in the morning light. Arches followed, and heavy calvary. They would outnumber his allies at least ten to one, but if he could reach his men, they could lay an ambush, and win at the bottle neck the canyon formed.He pulled a small mirror from his pouch, and turned to face the west of the ridge. He flashed it in the air, it bounced the rays of light into the air.
Enemy sighted, the signal ment.
He waited, and saw two flashes bright on the opposite side of the ridge.
Understood, came the reply.
He turned and crept about, crawling through the grasses. He suddenly paused, coldness gripping his heart. Years of experience as an outrider tensed his muscles, instinct acting without thought. Something was wrong.
He raised his head slowly from the grasses, grey eyes looking about. Then he saw them, men dressed in harsh browns, red scarves tied about their arms. The enemy.
He drew back his bow quickly, letting an arrow fly, it tore through the nearest man's throat, blood spraying in a red tide from his neck. He dropped back into the bushes, rolling to his left, nocking another arrow. The man lept up, and one of the enemy sent a dagger tumblin end over end towards his chest. He whipped his bow about, catching the blade. The bow no ruined, he reached behind his dusty cloak, pulling a whip from his back, and a kukri from his boot. The enemy came at him, drawing his sword.
Grey eyes narrowed, the man cracked his whip. Its hard leather snaked out and away from him, a living extention of his will. It wrapped about the enemy's wrist, and he pulled. He could hear the crackle of bone and cartilledge from where he stood. The sword dropped from the enemy's broken wrist. The man wrapped his whip about his arm, pulling the broken man towards him. He jumped and lashed upward with the kukri, blood spraying from his enemy's neck, slpashing his face and clothes like a warm red rain. He turned about, to face another. He snapped his whip to the side, and blinding pain began to erupt from his stomach. He looked down, and arrow growing from him, blood pumping from it. A second whistled into his side, ripping thorugh his skin, shattering ribs and tearing his lungs with its force. He grunted, and fell to one knee. Dropping the kukri, he pulled a dagger from his belt, and threw it with all his strength into the enemy's throat.
A third arrow ripped into him. The men in red washed forward, running over him.
_He was falling. It was a curious sensation. He fell, vaguely, he realizec he was so far above the ground, he would never land.
A crow flew to him, flying about him in circles, cawing. He reached out and caught it, pulling it gently into his chest. The bird rubbed its head affectionately against his chest.
"I am falling." he said.
"I know." said the crow.
"What is you name?"
The crow paused for a moment. "What is yours?"
The man creased his brow, frowning.
"I cannont remember."
"Corvinus." cawed the crow.
"Corvinus?"
"You are falling." the crow observed.
"I am?" the idea startled the man.
"Yes," said the bird , "you should fly, you know."
"I can't fly."
"Yes you can."
"But this is a dream, it has to be. You never hit the ground in dreams. You always wake up the second before."
"Fly." said the bird.
"How?"
The bird tilited it's head, and cawed: "Say, have you got any corn?"
The man opened his hand, and was surprised to find corn in it. He fed the crow for a few moments.
"How do I fly?" he asked.
"Spread you wings." replied the bird.
"But how? I have no wings!" the man was worried now.
"There are many types of wings, friend. You just have to know where to look."
"I don't even know my name!"
The crow cawed at him.
"Corvinus."
A man fell past the crow and his companion. The man looked like someone he had seen before.
"Is that me?" the man asked, afraid for what might happen to him.
"Yes." said the crow.
"It is?"
"No." it cawed.
"What was his name?!?!" the man was feeling worried now.
"Perecelsus." the bird cried.
"But he was me!"
"Not if you fly," the bird cawed.
"I can't!"
The crow left his arms flying about. The man looked down. Below him stretched mountians of ice, impaled upon their peaks were the bodies of thousands of others, dreamers who never woke up.
"Fly or die. Fly or die!" the crow cawed.
The man spread his arms, willing himself to fly.
"But he was me!" he cried.
"Not if you fly!"
The man spread his arms wider, willing himself to fly. Suddenly, invisible wings spread, the air -pulled- them, and he flew.
The man had never been so exicited.
"I'm flying!" he shouted with joy.
"I've noticed." said the bird.
It flew to him, a third eye opening upon it's borw, the eye was red, it's iris black as sin. The bird pecked him hard upon the forehead, it's third eye disapereing. Then, it erupted into an explosion of feathers._
The man awoke, laying in the bed of a cabin, a beautiful woman staring down at him.
Since that time, the man traveled to Jiyyd, having been brought new life by the woman who saved him. He does not know his true name, so he travels by the only one he knows: Perecelsus Corvinus. Or, as he will tell some. Crow.
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