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The Book of the Damned

The Book of the Damned

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A one on one rp for me and Anna

983 readers have visited The Book of the Damned since blackrider created it.

Introduction

“You stand accused of being a spy for the north! How do you plead!?” The judges thunderous voice boomed throughout the small court house followed by a series of loud clacking of wood on wood as he raised and lowered the gavel repeatedly in an unnecessary rage. The judge, who’s old age was clearly shown by the many wrinkles and alarmingly bald head, looked extremely frail as if a small wind could knock him over. His small beady coal black eyes were transfixed on a shabby looking man before him, the old judges eyes seemed as if they were looking at evil itself.

The poor man who found himself under the judges bone chilling gaze seemed unfazed by the accusation, and used to the hateful look of the judge. The man straightened, his solid frame resembled that of a soldier saluting-his stance sharp and crisp. His hair, unlike many of the blonde haired clean cut citizens who filled the old courthouse, was a dark black, and his eyes, also unique, were that of a dark green with specks of brown. His face, which was actually rough with cuts and grime, was covered in a large black beard that trailed to the midsection of his chest. Along with his long dark hair that reached down to his shoulders, which had begun to mat together due to little hygiene, the man looked as if he was straight out of prison-looking to be in his mid thirties, his torn up pants, grimy white shirt, and grey animal pelt vest didn’t make him look any better. Yet, still with the look of a poor beggar, the man carried himself with a certain pride and manner that demanded respect. “I, Sir, Am of no such thing.” His voice boomed, cool and calm, but at the same time angered by the accusation. The truth was, all he was was a simple mountain man, living right on the large treck of mountains which separated two Kingdoms whose war had gone on so long none even remembered the cause, but fights were constantly arisen due to pure malice and hate between the two great warring factions-the only incentive to fight was to kill.

Unfortunately for Flint, who was the bearded man standing trial, he was born and raised in the Northern Kingdom, Opening him up to extreme racism and bigotry in the Western Kingdom. That meant that this was already an open and shut case, which always resulted in one outcome, a nice thick rope tightened around the spy’s neck. “LIES! LIES! LIES!” The judge roared, practically jumping his small old frame out of the creaky chair he resided in, placing both palms on the large table with a loud thud, his beedy eyes seemed to grow with even more hate “You were found by the Royal Scouts of the King himself plotting secret paths through the mountains for your fellow Northern scum!” The Judge roared slowly sinking back into his chair all, coughing the whole way down. He grew quieter, wheezing heavily. Flint thought it sad that the old man had worn himself out from a mere short shouting spell, as for what the judge had said however, Flint was amused…because the truth was he was merely hunting deer when hed run into “the royal scouts”.

Flint began to speak a response, but was quickly cut off by the lightning crack of the gavel, it seemed the judge was in the mood to yell again, his beady eyes turning to smaller slits like they did every time he yelled. “I deem you guilty of the accused crime! The punishment is the same as is for all other spys!” The packed courtroom burst into cheers and whistling, “HANGING!” The Judge hollered over the mallet, which was currently repeatedly striking the ancient table.


Before Flint knew it he’d been drug out side, being led onto the gallows where so many men-innocent and guilty-had been taken unwillingly by the cold hands of death. The crowd, which had now grown, roared and jeered as the rope was fastened tightly around Flint’s neck. It all seemed unreal to Flint, here he was, one pull of a lever away from death, and yet he wasn’t afraid. The large masked executioner grasped onto the handle, which when pulled would drop the floor out from under Flints feat, if he was lucky his neck would snap….if he wasn’t….then the true horror started, as the crowd was treated to a poor soul kicking and flailing limply in the air like a rag doll until the life was slowly choked from him.

“Wait!” A young voice shouted from a distance, the sound of hooves scraping the cobbled streets approached as the voice grew louder. “Wait!” It proclaimed again, the horse plowing through the crowd. The large executioner looked up from the lever, the man on horse carried the kings emblem. “This prisoner is to be takein to the castle dungeons immediately, by direct order of the king himself!” The large executioners hand twitched, as if called by the lever which held Flints fate. “Buh e’s been provn ta be a spy” The Neanderthal of an executioner said, pure and simple he wanted blood. “You dare to question your king?” The young errant said, raising a slender eyebrow on his young face. His right hand slowly found its way to the hilt of his sword, as if dareing the executioner to try anything stupid. “Righ then!” The executioner boomed “Guards! Get up ere ye stupid gits!”

Now Flint was almost sure this was a dream, the events that had just taken place were far to far-fetched to have actually occurred. He desperately wanted someone to pinch him and wake him up, but the large guard who approached him did him one better, sinking his large muscular arm into Flints stomach, quickly sending him to his knees with an extremely loud ‘thud’. At first flint felt the searing pain in his stomach, and then his world was swallowed into darkness.



Flint awoke in a start, cold sweat rolled down his forehead and had covered much of his now damp shirt. He quickly looked around, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head “Where am I!?” He roared, echoing long down the cold damp hallways that lay before his cell. Gripping the iron bars, yelling like a mad man he began thrashing at the bars, as if trying to rip them from the cell wall. It was now that realization set in, remembering clearly the events that had lead to where he now was, in the dark cold cell, god knows how many feet underground, all because he was born in a different place. He sank down to his knees, despair taking over, who knew what would happen to him now. It was hear, kneeling on the cold stone floor, he finally noticed the second man standing in the cell, a long dark cloak hiding his features, and the main reason Flint had not seen him until this moment. Flint stared at the figure for a long moment, slowly arising with his fists clenched, he didn’t know if the man was a friend or foe.

“So I see you’ve finally noticed me, Sir. Aiden.” The figure said, taking a step forward. His voice was sly and sharp, and contained the hint of forced kindness. “Quite a fit you had there, isn’t it? Id hate to run into that on the battle field…” he said it as if hinting at something. “…Any how….Are you familiar with folk tales, Sir Aiden?” Flint was silent, anger growing in him, here he was in a cold dungeon accused of being a spy and left to rot, and his cell mate wanted to talk about fairy tails. “What are you talking about!?” Flint barked angrily, taking a step forward. The cloaked figure stepped back, but then thought better of it, regaining his lost ground. “Well…uhm…” He coughed nervously “What if I told you I could grant you your freedom?” The anger in Flint rose, going from talks of make believe to that of false hope. “And how do you propose that…” Flint grunted as he sank back to his knees, resting his back against the cold stone wall, this man was obviously a crazy. “Just receive a simple artifact for me! You’ve heard of the book! The book of the damned! The book of darkness! His book!” Flint knew of the tail, as did every child in their lands, he simply chuckled. “The book that the gods themselves banished because no man nor god could control its power!” Flint shouted, it was the last lines of the story. He began yelling again “Yes! Ill get the book for you! Just as soon as I rip these iron bars from their place, storm my way out of the castle weaponless, and journey into the mountains to wherever it is the gods hid the book to end all days!”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Sir Aiden” The cloaked figure said, pulling his hands upwards to his hood, slowly drawing it back. The site of the man made Flint jump to his feet, even though the darkness hid most of his features, Flint could still recognize the cold deep eyes anywhere. The main continued talking, unafraid that Flint was on his feet “To talk to a king with such sarcasm! Indeed they named you The Brave Aiden for good reason!”

This was the final straw for Flint, his face contorted in anger as he launched himself at the man, grabbing him by the scruff of his hooded cloak he threw the man into the dark stoned wall with a loud crash “And what’s to stop me from choking the life from such a great king!?” He roared, his large callused hands wrapping tightly around the fair skinned king, who only smiled up at Flint. “Your life…” he replied quietly, it was rather hard to speak with your wind pipe slowly closing in on itself. The anger in Flints eyes didn’t die but his grip slowly loosened, until it was non existent altogether. “Your serious?” Flint asked, still finding it hard to believe “You want me to find you…this book? And if I do…I can leave?” The King simply nodded “….And if I fail?” Flint asked, as if weighing his options. “Then you shall at least get to taste the fresh air one last time.” The king said with a smile, already knowing his answer. And Flint knew he couldn’t refuse, sure there’s no way he could find a make believe book, but he was sure if he got into the mountains he could easily slip away from whatever goon, and he was sure there’d be one, that the king sent to keep an eye on him. “Ill do it…” Flint grunted with disgust, he hated the man.

“Excellent!” The king exclaimed happily, as if Flint was happy to help. “Well we mustn’t keep your comrades waiting! Come come!” And like that the king was out of the cell, opening the large iron door with an extremely loud creaking noise, his feet raping against the cold cobble stoned hallways as he sped off. Flint nearly had to run to keep up with him, a large frown on his bearded face, it was like chasing after a child. The king lead him along the long cold halls of the dungeon, until finally taking him up a large flight of twisting stairs, which opened into somewhere deep within the castle. Flint wasn’t exactly sure, but he was sick of walking through the lavish palace after about fifteen minutes of having to walk on the dark red velvet that trailed throughout the castle halls, he hadn’t seen one window, and he hated being cooped up inside (nearly spending all of his time outdoors). He also hated the millions of pictures that must have hung on the dark stone walls, all of old kings or famous heroes who had slaughtered his people by the thousands. He wanted to set fire to the palace and watch as the damned thing burned to ash, a task he’d almost accomplished long ago. “Where are you taking me!?” Flint thundered, sick of everything surrounding him. But before he could finish his statement the king had vanished through a large wooden door, decorated with lavished carvings of some forgotten battle in a forgotten time, Flint quickly followed.

Flint now found himself in a large banquet hall, a long oak table spread out before him with various meats and fruits, some of which he’d never seen, it was the most food hed seen at one time however. Somehow the king had already made it to the end of the table, sitting in a large golden chair with a warm plate of food already awaiting him. Two large, and heavily armed, guards stood at each side of the king, spears raised high with a lifeless look across their faces. It was now that Flint realized guards like this stood everywhere in this room, hidden well next to large statues, or in the cover of opened doors (which were evenly spaced throughout the room) Flint walked towards the king, who beckoned him to sit next to him….instead Flint took an opposite seat, sitting at the very end of the table. “Eat my friend! Have your fill!” He answered the kings request by sending the nearest tray of, what appeared some strange fruit, clashing to the floor, sending the contents everywhere. “All you northerners are alike!” the king roared, jumping from his seat “ Barbarians! The lot of you!”

Flint to sprang from his seat, hearing the unsheathing of swords all around him he slowly sat back down, pure malice in his eyes as he looked at the king “Then let me be on my way! Give me my damned burdens and let me go!” Flint roared back at the king, referring to “burdens” as his comrades.

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Holding up his right hand as he often did when he disagreed with something Flint responded to Elizabeth with “Im certain of it, besides that damned mut always hogs a good half of the bed anyways.” As he spoke Catdo seemed to perk up at the words 'mut', as if that was what he was normally referred to as. After finishing a few more pieces of jerky Flint took the sleeping bag he had grown accustomed to using over the past few weeks and draped it atop the large animal skin infront of his fire place. After setting up his bed he approached the decently sized stone fire place, picking up a piece of flint and metal along the way it only took Flint a few minutes to light the few logs that had already been sitting inside the fireplace, immediately filling the cabin with a slight warmth and a bright light. Staring at the crackling flames as he sat himself atop the sleeping bed he had set up a thought occurred to him, and that was that Elizabeth was the first person who had ever actually spent a night inside his home. Most nights Flint honestly hadn’t realized how much he had missed other people, but sitting here with Elizabeth in the room he couldn’t ignore the thought. Grumbling to himself he picked up a rather long charred stick that sat next to the fire place and began stirring the burning wood, trying to push away the thoughts of what would happen if they finally accomplished their mission.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth slowly nods her head, "Alright," She says, still a little uncertain, but deciding not to argue with him about it. She pets Catdo's head as she slowly gets to her feet, watching as Flint quickly sets fire in the fireplace. She turns and walks over to his bed, looking down at it. She hesitates a moment, never having slept in a man's bed before. She glances over at Flint seeing him poking at the burning wood while grumbling to himself. She thinks about speaking up to ask if everything's alright but she doesn't want to make the situation any worse, already feeling pretty awkward herself. Catdo jumps up onto the bed and looks up at her expectantly. She sighs quietly as she pets him once more before climbing into the bed. The bed is really warm, and compared to the forest floor, it's pretty comfortable. She crinkles her nose slightly, smelling Flint strongly on the blanket and the pillow. Catdo walks around in circles for a few moments before laying down and getting comfortable. "Night." She says, not looking at Flint.

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Flint heard Elizabeth tell him good night before quickly drifting off to sleep leaving Flint alone with his thoughts, something he hated. Pulling out his ever evolving carving Flint began to whittle away still facing the fire. Occasionally he'd look over to his bed, eyeing Elizabeth and Catdo sound asleep. Whether he'd like to admit it or not they were the two people closest to him at this point in his life, a fact he found rather sad at the realization of. With a heavy sigh Flint returned his attention to his carving for a few hours before he finally was overtaken by sleep.

Awaking well before Elizabeth Flint stretched slightly, a loud 'crack' coming from his back as he stretched and yawned. Standing up at his full height he turned his gaze to the sleeping Elizabeth, who seemed to be enjoying the warm comfortable bed far to much-she was all sprawled out in a rather awkward yet albeit comfortable looking position. Smiling slightly Flint went to the foot of Elizabeths bed, rummaging around in a large oak chest that sat beside the end of the bed Flint pulled out a small finely carved shortbow and a quiver of arrows from the well made chest. At this point Flint was sure Elizabeth was as sick of dried jerky as he was, something he planned on rectifying this morning.

Removing the large wooden beam that locked the door of the cabin Flint journeyed out into the morning light, the fresh crisp air and sounds of insects and birds music to his ears. Within the next hour Flint had returned to the cabin, a fairly large deer being dragged behind him in a bloody mess. He was glad to see Elizabeth still asleep upon entering the cabin and he immediately went about turning the deer carcass into breakfast. Before long a large black cauldron bubbled and popped above the fire place, filling the air with a delicious smell of both meat and various vegetables. Apparently Flint was quite the mountain chef.

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Character Portrait: Elizabeth Moore Character Portrait: Flint
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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth had a good night's sleep, actually dreaming for once. She'd dreamed about her father, about them training together, the dream brings a smile to her face. But the dream soon turns to a nightmare, as she dreams about the day she found out her father was killed. "Papa," She murmurs in her sleep, tossing a little before sitting up right in the bed. "Papa," She says again, her heart racing in her chest as she glances around the room. It takes a few moments for her mind to wake up, to realize where she is. Once it all clicks, she blushes slightly, hoping Flint hadn't heard her.

Elizabeth slowly gets to her feet, seeing Flint cooking something. She smells the air, the delicious smell hitting her. "Hey, did you finally catch something?" She teases as she slowly walks over to the table and sits down, running a hand through her tangled blonde hair. She grabs her bag, pulls out her brush, and slowly starts to brush out the knots. "It smells good, whatever it is." She murmurs, watching Flint and the cauldron.

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As Flint stirred the bubbling stew Elizabeths tossing and turning slightly caught his attention, and then upon hearing something along the lines of 'Papa' murmur out her lips Flint assumed she was having a nightmare of sorts. He was debating whether or not he should wake her when she sprang up in bed, nearly shoving Catdo off the bed in the process. Quickly he turned his gaze back to the large pot he was stirring with an old wooden spoon he'd carved years ago-he didn’t want Elizabeth worrying over trying to explain her nightmare.

After Elizabeth had sat down and made the comment of him finally catching something Flint let out a loud snort of a laugh, which slightly made him blush beneath his beard. “Yes, now that we are in the mountains my hunting skills should be a little more...” He paused, looking for the right words. “..Effective?” He said his tone of voice sounding as if he was asking a question. “And trust me, I'm sure you’ll love chef Flints cooking.” He said sarcasticly as he poured a large amount into a deep wooden bowl which he brought over and placed in front of Elizabeth. “And besides, it cant be any worse then more dried jerky.” Grabbing himself a bowl from the side of his cabin that could best be described as the 'kitchen' Flint returned to the table, dropping off a smooth wooden spoon next to Elizabeth-apparently almost every one of his dishes was hand carved rather expertly.

Now pouring himself a bowl Flint noticed Catdo whimpering at his feet with his ears cocked back and large saucer shaped eyes looking up at Flint, or more importantly, looking at the bowl of food in Flints hands. After being silent for a moment and staring at the strange dog cat hybrid Flint let out a heavy sigh, cursing slightly under his breath as he set the hot bowl of stew on the ground which Catdo began to immediately greedily lap up. Yet again Flint went to get himself a new bowl.

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Character Portrait: Elizabeth Moore Character Portrait: Flint
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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth laughs quietly at Flint's snort, somehow she finds it amusing. She looks down at the bowl of stew that Flint sets in front of her. "Thanks," She says, as he sets the spoon down next to her bowl. She picks it up and is about to start eating when she sees Catdo watching Flint with those begging eyes. She stops, a small smirk on her face as she watches, wondering if Flint will actually give into the creature. She giggles slightly, watching him set his bowl down, Catdo lapping it up quickly. When she first met Flint, she saw him as a barbarian, but seeing the way he treats the creature, she can tell that there is more to him than what she first thought.

Elizabeth quickly adverts her eyes, not wanting Flint to catch her staring. She picks up the spoon again and starts to eat. Her eyes widen slightly, actually, extremely surprised by how good the soup is. "Wow, Flint. Who would have though you'd be such a good cook," She murmurs, teasing him once more. She's really surprised to find she feels so comfortable around Flint. She hasn't opened up like this with anyone in years, and never with a man. She glances over at Catdo, seeing the creature quickly licking the bowl clean. She smiles at the creature, at first he was really strange to her, but now he's starting to grow on her.

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“Yes, yes, Im a man of many talents.” Flint joked as he sat down at the table finally able to enjoy his creation, which he seemingly ate almost as quickly as Catdo. As he happily ate away at his soup Catdo had returned to sitting at Flints feet, having devoured his bowl he now eyed Flints food yet again. “I dont think so Mr!” Flint barked in mock seriousness at the beast, who then skulked over to Elizabeth with its ears pressed back. Now sitting at her feet it forlornly stared up at her, his eyes following the spoon each time it was filled with soup. “Dont let him fool you.” Flint nodded at Catdo “Damn mongrel has a way of being...manipulative.” As if Catdo knew what Flint was saying he bared his teeth slightly obviously trying to get Flint to shut up before he ruined his plans.

Before he knew it Flint was back in front of the quickly dwindling pot of soup, pouring himself another bowl. Returning to the table several thoughts idly drifted through his head ranging from his mother who had taught him everything he knew about cooking to the various ways their inevitable meeting with the Mystic of the Mountains could go, he even slightly thought about how much he'd liked the thought of Elizabeth in his bed. The last thoughts reminded him of something, making him chuckle out loud a bit “You know you snore in your sleep?”

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth eats slowly, relishing the taste of the home cooked meal. She's only about halfway done with her bowl when Flint finishes his first. Elizabeth glances down at Catdo as he walks over to her, giving her the pleading look he'd given Flint. "I'm not easily fooled," She with a small laugh as she smiles at the creature and reaches out to pat his head. "You've already had yours." She says, petting his head for a few moments before turning her attention back her bowl of soup. She's about to take another bite when Flint makes the comment about her snoring. She glances over at him, letting her spoon fall back into the soup. "I-I do not," She says, even though the blush on her cheeks speaks volumes to the contrary. She shakes her head, turning her attention back to her soup once more. "So, how far is it to the Mystic of the Mountains' place?" She asks curiously, trying to change the subject off her, and back to the point of why they're here.

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Flint knew Elizabeth was making a desperate attempt to change the subject by the scarlet color that had suddenly filled her cheeks, and Flint decided to mercifully allow her some relief by answering her new question “Well..” Flint said, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair, which looked rather dangerous due to the rickety thing he sat in. “To be honest the first time I found her home it had been merely by chance, every other time I’ve run into her was...different. It seemed as if almost every time I had her on my mind as I trecked through the forest I would inevitably stumble upon her camp, even though I know for a fact that it wasn’t always the same place. I've always assumed it was some sort of....magic?” He trailed off as he absent mindidly stared at Catdo who was now a large pouting lump of fur near the bed. Quickly he picked up the conversation again “Im honestly just assuming thats the best way we'll be able to find her, as dumb as that sounds. As soon as your ready we can head out, I've already restocked our supplies from the things in my home.”

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth frowns slightly at Flint's words, she's never been one to just 'wing it'. She's always had to have a set plan before she sets out on a mission. Elizabeth finishes her soup before getting up from the table. "I'm ready whenever you are." She says. She glances over at Catdo, pouting by the by the bed, wondering if he can somehow tell that Flint is going to be leaving again. She frowns again, thinking about how she always felt when her father had to leave for missions, it was always tough for her to say goodbye though she never let it show. She walks over to Catdo, scratches behind his ear for a few moments before moving toward the door, waiting for Flint to be ready to go.

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Catdo had seemed to greatly appreciate the attention Elizabeth had given him, his large head leaning into the scratching hed received as he let out a loud purr. Seemingly In a mutch better mood the large animal sprang onto Flints bed, wallowing through the covers for a few minutes in a rather comical sight before finally 'tucking himself in'. Catdo, now completely covered in the large blanket on Flints bed, almost immediatley began to let out something that could only be described as a 'snore', and based on Flints expression this was almost an every day occurrence.

After Elizabeths words Flint gathered up their belongings in his familiar rucksack and the two set out into the mountains. After a mere two hours of traveling through the rough mountain terrain which contained both rocky ledges and thickening patches of trees the two companions had reached their destination. Traveling through a rather large thicket of large spruce trees, all the while Flint pointing out various types of wilderness tips from the types of plants that could heal and poison to the types of edible fauna and stories of dangerous wildlife, however he had stopped mid sentence as they entered into the medium sized clearing that contained nothing but dead yellowish grass and lone leather tipi that appeared as if it had been repeatedly patched and re-patched throughout the years.

Stopping for a moment Flint turned towards Elizabeth, without saying a word his face clearly said “be careful.” Warily he lead the way forward, holding a rather large cotton sack loosely in his right hand. He had been carrying the thing sense the two had started off on their journey for the day, a completely separate bag from the large leather one he wore on his back, every time Elizabeth had questioned him about it he simply responded with a 'you’ll see.'

Before Flint could reach the opening of the old worn out tipi an extremely small frail old women burst from with the triangular leather home, a large gnarled staff clutched in her right hand as she bobbled about, quickly closing the distance between Flint and Elizabeth, the site of her randomly coming from her home had made Flint nearly jump back into Elizabeth.

“So, what didya bring me this time Aiden?!” The old woman croaked as she reached the pair, quickly she brushed her dirty grey dread locks aside before her free hand the didnt hold the old wooden staff darted lightning fast and tore the bag Flint held away from his hands. Quickly walking around in a circle for some reason while peering into the bag with her one good eye (the other was covered by an ancient crusty looking leather eye patch). Letting out a loud cackle of a laugh which slightly chilled Flints bones she continued to frantickly speak “Ah, GOOD, good! Nothing better then some of your home made soup, I assume that’s what it is by the smell anyways! Who am I kidding, we both knew you’d bring it today!” Abruptly stopping from her speech about how much she loved Flints soup she quickly, and unexpectedly, ran up to Elizabeth, which caused Flint to reach for one of his tomahawks.

Letting out another otherworldly laugh the old woman, who wore only what could be described as a mishmash of skinned animals and the occasional skin that looked eerily human like, stood on her tipi toes trying to get as close to Elizabeths face as she could, her one good eye darting over seemingly every feature of Elizabeths. “Good, good, you finally brought the girl! Well come, come, the fires warm and I've been waiting ages for you to arrive, especially you girlie! And no Catdo today? Shame, I've missed the little man!” Before the old woman had finished she was already hobbling her way towards the tipi she called home, her small frame so tiny she didn’t even have to lift up the hanging flap that qualified as a door.

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Character Portrait: Elizabeth Moore Character Portrait: Flint
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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth glances around as they walk, taking in all the information Flint gives her about all the mountain wildlife and plant life that they pass. With them talking so much, time seems to fly by and before she realizes it, they're standing in the clearing with the tipi. She slowly follows Flint over to it, surprised to see the old woman walk out. She watches her curiously as she talks to Flint, taking the bag from him and peering inside. When the woman turns her attention to her, Elizabeth nearly trips over her own two feet trying to back away from the woman, though she can't help but to wonder what exactly this woman knows about her. Elizabeth glances over at Flint, surprise and shock in her eyes, not really sure what to make of this woman as she hobbles back into her tipi. Glancing between Flint and the tipi for a few moments, she slowly makes her way toward it, a little uncertainly. Her hand shakes slightly as she slowly reaches out and pulls back the tipi's flap to slip inside, not really sure what to expect.

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Quickly Flint followed his companion into the tipi not wanting her to be alone with the mystic, nearly bumping into the dumbfounded Elizabeth upon reaching the other side. He didnt blame her though, he too had taken a minute to stare amazed at the large marble like pillars that lined the room and various stone staircases that trailed off to who knows where. It was as if walking into the tipi was walking into a castle, large stone gargoyles that seemed to eerily follow both Flint and Elizabeths movements sat at random places throughout the huge room, the mystic sitting at a lone stone table the had four comfortable looking chairs around it.

The mystic was already greedily slurping away at a bowl of Flints soup which was somehow steaming. Stopping in between a particular loud “Shlurp.” of soup The mystic set the bowl down and beckoned the pair over with a waive of her hand. “Come come, I wont bite! I might do something worse then that but bites are out of the question, im rather full right no anyways!” The woman was clearly off her rocker but Flint nonetheless took a seat across from the mystic. It always wierded him out just how comfortable the chairs were. “So...hows the soup?” Flint asked stupidly, obviously slightly taken aback and unsure of how to start the conversation.

Another cringe worthy cackle and the Mystic spoke up “Superb as always, although I've been dying for some of your barbequed mountain lion.” She licked her lips at the end of the sentence, exposing her sickeningly misshapen and black teeth. “Now you tell me Flint, how are you finding the company of your companionship? Is it everything we thought it’d be?” The words hung awkwardly in the air as Flint became completely at a loss for words.

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Elizabeth looks around in awe at the huge room, knowing there is no logical way this room could fit into the confines of the tipi, they had seen from the outside. The gargoyles give her the creeps but she does her best to hide it as she follows Flint over to the table where the Mystic of the Mountains is sitting. She glances between Flint and the older woman as they talk about the soup, her eyes widen slightly as she asks about how he feels about Elizabeth, as if they'd known that they were going to be on this mission together before it even happened, which for some reason, doesn't really surprise her coming form this woman. She can tell that Flint is at a loss for words, but she's not sure what to say either, not really wanting to speak up at all since the older woman didn't address her directly, afraid of angering the woman.

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Flint forcefully cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to change the topic. “We've come here for-” He was cut off midsentence by the old woman flailing her arm about in an awkward manner as she began to speak “The book, yes?! Finally at the point where you have to look for it eh? Poor souls.” She let out a cackle as pulled a piece of parchment from seemingly out of nowhere, her laugh had made Flint cringe slightly. “Here, here, take it! It's a map that will take you to what you seek!” She spat madily as she thrust the ancient looking rolled up paper in front of Flint who immediately took it from her bony grasp.

“Just like that?” Flint asked dumbfounded, though he wasn’t sure why he was even surprised at this point. The woman knew EVERYTHING, something Flint had learned years ago.

“Of course not! There's always a catch! You know that my boy! I know you know of my obsession of fortune telling at this point but sadly I’ve already informed you of your miserable future. That only leaves you deary!” The mystic spoke as her serpentine eyes focused solely on Elizabeth, as if already reading something. “That's my price for the map, and don’t try leaving without my payment.” She spoke her final sentence in an icy tone that was deathly serious.

Flint was well aware of how serious this situation was and just how much he needed the map but nonetheless he turned to face Elizabeth. “This is your choice Beth. If you decide to do it i'll even wait outside. But please, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Flint's normally gruff and sarcastic tone had changed to that of caring concern, something that sounded odd coming from the bearded barbarian. It was a tone Elizabeth had never heard before.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth bites her bottom lip, watching Flint and the old woman as they talk, her eyes falling on the piece of parchment paper as the old woman hands it to Flint. Her eyes are still on the parchment when she suddenly feels eyes on her. She looks up at the Mystic of the Mountain, her eyes wide at her words. 'She wants to tell my future?' She thinks uncertainly as she glances at Flint, the concern in his voice makes her worry more, not even caring that he'd used her nickname. She's never seen Flint show concern over her, not in the village when those men attacked or in the forest when they fought those creatures.

Elizabeth glances between the two once more, knowing that they need the map. She slowly nods her head, not showing any fear as she looks at the woman. "I'll pay your price." She says, keeping her voice even, although she's extremely frightened, not sure she wants to know what the future has in store for her. "You can stay if you'd like," She murmurs to Flint, not willing to admit that she wants him to stay, that she feels stronger with him next to her. "What do I need to do?" She asks, turning back to the Mystic of the Mountains.

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“Ah, interesting, interesting...” The mystic trailed off, occasionally turning Elizabeths palm this way and that way with the same entranced look. Finally she took one long bony, almost skeletal, finger and began to trace about Elizabeths palm, following various lines this way and that way. “Your past...you loyally serve your king and country, as your father did before you. Unfortunatley this line here...” She jabbed slightly at a small line near Elizabeths thumb. “...It speaks volumes of your father. Your still trying to live up to his harsh standards, yes? To bad you don't really know what happened to him.” She stressed the words really, causing an awkward silence to hang in the air for a moment as she continued tracing about Elizabeth’s palm. “Your present is confusing, a jumbly mess of changing oppinions and realizations.” She paused giving Elizabeth a sweet, almost motherly, wink of her eye-something Flint somehow completely missed. “Not a place i'd want to be myself. Now lets see here. Lets see...Oh my. Oh my indeed.” She trailed her finger back and forth across a rather large curved line “Your future, now thats rather interesting. Something I myself havent come across before. And that’s saying something my dear!” She let out a cackle before speaking again. “Your future seems to be establishing a new nation, you and your offspring shall usher in a new kingdom itself. But be warned-your children will be fatherless and you will face great hardship in this chain of events.” Letting go of Elizabeths hand as quickly as she had grabbed it the mystic sat back leaning into her chair, her right hand finding it way to her gnarled staff that she had set against the table durring her reading “And that, is all I shall tell you deary.”

“Are we done now?” Flint barked grumpily, spitting the words angrily at the mystic. He still clutched the tomahawk beneath the table, eyes locked with the mystic.
“Of course not sweetie” The mystic spat back, not breaking Flints gaze.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth looked down at her hand as the Mystic trailed her finger across her palm. She didn't say anything as the Mystic talked about her past, everyone knew she was loyal to her kingdom, but when the woman mentioned her father, she stiffened. 'What really happened to my father?' She wondered, her eyes squinting slightly as she glanced up from her hand to the Mystic, but she didn't have long to dwell on those words before the Mystic was moving onto something else. Elizabeth glanced over at Flint as the Mystic mentiond her confusing present, then back the Mystic as she spoke of her future, frowning deeply at the grim words. As soon as the woman let go of her hand, Elizabeth placed it back into her lap, many thoughts were whirling around in her mind. She wanted to know more about everything the mystic has said, but she just couldn't seem to get over the woman's words about her father, they stuck with her the most, not even wanting to think about her future right now. "Wh-what do you mean? About my father?" She asked, looking the woman in the eyes, her own eyes nearly pleading, wanting to know more.

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The mystics eyes were filled with sorrow as she now looked at Elizabeth, reaching across the table she grasped Elizabeths hand with both of her own, not in an attempt to read but apparently comfort. Honestly the site of it made Flint kind of shocked, causing him to return the tomahawk back to his belt. Maybe the Mystic wasn’t all bad, just a little cooky?

“Im sorry deary, I truly am. But the time for questions and answers is over. Just as your palm told me your future, my own tells me mine. I have to try and kill you both now.” They way she lovingly and regrettably spoke the words chilled Flint to the bone while alarms sounded in his head like an explosion. “What are you-” Before Flint could finish the sentence the Mystic waved her free hand in the air, hitting Flint in the chest with some unseen force that sent him flying out of his chair causing him to slam to the ground several feet away with a loud painful thud. All at once the room seemed to come alive, the torches that offered light flickered and grew and shrank some flashing different color causing an almost nauseating effect. The large gargoyles that had once been stoic and rigid began to move, three closing in on Flint who seemed to be struggling to get two his feet, and two making their way towards Elizabeth. They walked with large thunderous booms as their stone feet slowly made their way across the large room. All the while the Mystic cackled wildly.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth frowned at the Mystic's words, a little confused at first, until she saw her send Flint flying across the room. "Flint!" Elizabeth screamed in surprise and fear for him. She quickly pulled out her sword as the two gargoyles made their way toward her. 'What good is a sword going to do against a couple stone gargoyles,' She thought, the wheels spinning in her mind as she tried to come up with some kind of plan. As the gargoyles closed in on her, Elizabeth staid still, until they were right on top of her, waiting until the last second to jump up onto the table, not giving the two stone creatures time to react before running right into each other. Taking a running jump, she jumped off the table, flipping a little her foot landing on top of one the gargoyles heads. She quickly pushed off and flipped again before landing next to Flint. "Are you ok?" She asked, her back against his as she eyed the approaching gargoyles warily.

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As Flint got to his feet a strong searing pain roared in his chest, struggling to catch his breath and take control of the situation he finally noticed the large stone monsters lumbering towards him. Things were happening so fast now that he hadn’t even noticed Elizabeth's impressive acrobatic feat, which had actually caused the two gargoyles that had ran into each other to crumble and break apart into a useless pile of rubble. Now standing back to back with Elizabeth Flint quickly realized that both tomahawks he clutched tightly would do little, if anything, to the stone giants.

The nearest Gargoyle swung its large heavy arm towards the two, both Flint and Elizabeth springing out of the way at the last minute causing the monster to strike the ground with a huge booming noise. Noticing the large marble pillar to his right Flint quickly ran over to it. “Hey you big dumb stone bastards!” Flint roared, throwing a tomahawk at the nearest one who had been headed for Elizabeth. The tomahawk patheticly bounced off the creatures head with a metallic 'clink'. Nonetheless though it drew the attention of two of the beasts who quickly lumbered over to Flint, the one closing in on him first swung with his right arm. Flint again rolled out of the way, only this time instead of simply hitting the stone floor the beast completely obliterated the bottom of the marble pillar in an explosion of stone and dust. The large pillar teetered back and forth for a moment before crashing down to earth almost perfectly atop of both gargoyles, the third remaining gargoyle was even cleaved in two by the upper most part of the pillar, leaving the intact half flailing uselessly at Elizabeth.

“YOU!” Flint roared, pointing his remaining tomahawk at The Mystic accusingly. “Ill kill you for this witch!” The look on Flints face was pure unbridled rage as he threw the tomahawk with deadly accuracy. Just as the deadly weapon was about to find its mark in the old womans chest the Mystic again waved her hand casualy, sending the tomahawk flying back in his direction. As his own tomahawk neared with extreme speed Flint closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.

Only it never came, quickly opening his eyes he looked himself up and down a little dumbfounded that he was fine. Then he turned to Elizabeth planning on giving her a reassuring look to tell her he was ok before attacking the mystic yet again. To his horror however the tomahawk, his fathers weapon, was protruding from Elizabeths chest-the damned thing had stricken her exactly in the middle of the coat he had sown her, the one damned opening on the thing. “Elizabeth!” Flint nearly screamed, torn between running over to her and killing the witch. He chose Elizabeth.

Running to his fallen comrade, scooping up his spare tomahawk almost absent mindidly along the way, he nearly slid to his knees upon reaching her, brushing her blonde hair from her beautiful face. His face wore a look of pure terror as he gently picked her up, trying not to look at the blood beginning to flow from under her coat.

“Its ok Elizabeth. You'll be ok. I swear it.” Running out of the tipi as quickly as his legs could carry the two of them he wasnt sure if he was trying to convince Elizabeth or himself.

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Elizabeth Moore


It all happened so quickly, Elizabeth watched as Flint quickly took out the last three gargoyles. She watched as he turned his attack to the Mystic, her eyes widen as the woman turned the weapon back on him, before she had the chance to scream, it had suddenly changed coarse again and somehow found it's way right into her chest. Elizabeth didn't even have a chance to react, the searing pain coursing through her chest, she reached up, fingers feeling the blood slowly seeping from the wound. She fell to her knees, her eyes wide as Flint scooped her up and quickly carried her out of the tipi. "Fl-flint," She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear was clear in her voice, tears stinging at her eyes, as she looked up at him. "I-I don't want to die," She whimpered quietly, dark spots dancing in her vision, starting to pass out from the combination of pain and blood loss.

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“You wont, you cant, I wont let you die.” Flint said concern clear in his voice as he ran through the familiar landscape of the forest riddled mountains. He couldn’t bare to look down at Elizabeths injured frame partly because he needed to be focused as he darted past trees and dodged rocky obstacles but mostly because he couldn’t stand the site of her bleeding body. As he cradled Elizabeth in his large muscular arms he continued to run at a dead sprint, his lungs felt like they were on fire and his legs seared a hot pain but irregardless he refused to quit running. He knew he could take care of the wound she had sustained if he reached his cabin in time, or at least that’s what he constantly told himself in his mind as he tore his way through the mountain landscape. He wasn’t sure how long it had been but he finally had reached his cabin, Elizabeth having passed out quite a bit ago. He wasn’t sure but it seemed as if he had reached the home in a quarter of the time it had taken them to reach their previous destination, at least that's what his burning lungs and aching body told him-but his own pain was the furthest thing from his mind.

With a swift kick of his old leather boots he flung the strong cabin door open, quickly rushing Elizabeth over to his bed he laid her down as gently as he could. Looking at her closed eyes he spoke aloud softly in almost a whisper “You better not die...” As quick as he had set her down he was off, tearing through the large chest that sat at the foot of his bed in a wild manner. Throwing things from the chest this way and that way letting both precious and non precious items clatter to his wooden floor, some breaking in the process, Flint finally found what he was looking for. Clutching a medium sized cloth pouch in his hands triumphantly Flint rushed back to Elizabeths bedside, looking at the tomahawk that still stuck out of her chest in disgust. It was his weapon. He had left blasted thing planted in her because he knew as soon as he pulled the deadly instrument out her the blood flow would increase greatly. But now he had no choice, wrapping his hand gently around the finely polished oak handle of his own weapon he quickly pulled it from her chest, praying the pain wouldn’t cause her to awake.

Flint had lucked out as Elizabeth remained non responsive from what he’d done. The next part of helping her had made Flint hesitate for a moment before he cursed his own stupidity as he blushed slightly beneath his beard, gripping both parts of her tunic that had been slightly torn in half from the tomahawk Flint pulled the fine fabric apart with a loud “riiip”. Doing his best not to look at her bare chest (something he failed at). Flint quickly opened the fabric pouch he had sat down next to him, reaching his right hand inside he scooped something up, pulling his hand out covered in a thick white substance which he quickly began to spread over Elizabeths large open wound. The minute the unknown white substance had made contact with the wound the bleeding immediately stopped, giving Flint some slight relief.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, even though he knew his task wasn’t complete, Flint let out a large stressful sigh, trying his best to avert his eyes from the exposed Elizabeth. Returning to the chest that sat at the foot of his bed Flint began rooting around inside it searching for something else, although this time much more calmly, as he found the needle and thread he'd been looking for he finally noticed Catdo who stared at him with concern before letting out a slight whimper, apparently having been laying under the dinging table the whole time. “Its ok boy, she'll be fine...” Flint spoke comfortingly to the animal, although his voice sounded somewhat unsure and nervous.

Returning to Elizabeths side he took the needle and thread and began to meticulously sow her wound shut, judging by the extremely straight sowing job he accomplished he was well trained in the art. Her scar would be minimal thanks to the fine sowing job and cream he had applied rather quickly, at least that’s what Flint liked to believe.

Refusing to let his mind fall to worry Flint set about various tasks-from tucking Elizabeth gently under his large thick bed cover to cooking another delicious smelling bowl of soup before finally pulling the small dining table over to Elizabeths bedside along with a lone chair so he could remain by her, he also grabbed a wooden bowl and filled it with water for her when she awoke which he placed atop the newly moved table.

Finally sitting in the lone wooden chair at the table Flint stared at Elizabeths frame, the way her chest moved ever so slightly up and down he could tell she was still breathing, which Flint found more then reassuring. Pulling his ever familiar carving out Flint began to whittle away at the thing, trying his best to keep his tired and haggard frame from falling asleep as he watched over Elizabeth. As the hours passed Flint finally unwillingly succumbed to the ever welcoming sleep, his left hand that held his now finally finished carving falling against Elizabeths tucked in frame.

The carving was a masterfully carved smooth wooden rose, the leafs stem and even the individual rose pedals carved perfectly.

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Elizabeth Moore


It was in the early hours of the next morning, when Elizabeth finally started to wake up. She groaned quietly at the pain in her chest, feeling tightness there, hurting to breathe. She stayed still, only moving her eyes as she looked around, trying to figure out where she was, it took a few moments for her brain to connect the events of the day before, realizing she was back at Flint's house. She turned her head slightly, seeing Flint sleeping in a chair next to the bed, his hand resting against her as he had apparently tried to stay awake. She glanced at his hand, seeing the beautiful carving there. She moved her hand, to reach out and grab the carving, but it caused a pain to shoot through her chest and as the blanket moved against her body, she could feel that her chest was bare. She slowly let her hand fall back down to her side, trying to ease the pain and not wanting to do anything to expose her chest.

"Flint?" Elizabeth said quietly, looking up at him. She glanced around the room once more, not wanting to seem weak, she slowly sat up, gasping quietly at the pain in her chest. She held the blanket against her body, not wanting to expose herself as she slowly moved to get out of bed, not even wanting to think about the fact that he had already seen her exposed chest. The room spun slightly as she started to move to the edge of the bed, from the blood loss of the day before. She groaned quietly, her head in her hands as she tried to get the room to stop spinning. She wanted to get up, to get dressed before Flint woke up, but the way the room was spinning and the pain in her chest, she knew she wasn't going to be able to get up on her own.

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Flint slept through Elizabeths softly spoken words but as soon as she began to move about Flint groggily sprang from his sleep, his startled body kicking the wooden table in front of him in the process with a loud 'bang'. As quick as he had awoken his wits came back to him, remembering immediately what had happened the previous night. “You shouldn’t sit up just yet, your stitches are still fresh.” He spoke caringly as he went to push her back down gently on the bed, quickly stopping himself as he realized just how awkward that might be. “Are you thirsty?” His hands fumbled for the bowl full of water on the table spilling it slightly across the counter top, he was obviously doing his best to ignore the fact that Elizabeth was attempting to cover herself up. “Or are you hungry? I cooked us something over night...Or do you need more blankets? I've got some spares...” He continued to ramble on asking Elizabeth if she needed various things that almost made no sense for her to need or if he could do anything for her, not stopping once to even give her a chance to respond to his many questions. As he verbally made a fool of himself with his constant babble of question he finally fell silent, concerned eyes staring into Elizabeths-he was obviously ready to spring up from his seat and do whatever thing might make Eliabeth feel better. He hadn’t even noticed the rose he’d spent so long carving had fallen ignored to the floor, he apparently only had one concern on his mind.

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