Koltira Deathweaver (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deadelfwalking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-06-01 04:27 pm
deadelfwalking) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-06-01 04:27 pm
[OPEN] not a spell gonna be broken with a potion or a priest
Date & Time: RIGHT NOW (that is to say, the afternoon of June 1st)
Location: Initiative training rooms
Characters: Koltira, perhaps yourself
Summary: Big dead elf guy swings big scary sword. Scary sword leaks black miasma all over the place.
Warnings: Pls do not touch the miasma. Or the elf. Honestly, you really shouldn't be here at all.
[Koltira hasn't seen much of anyone for the last few days. Although the events on that doomed other world had staved off the edge of his bloodthirst, he's now facing another problem.
Well.
He's not so much 'facing it' as he is 'doing his best to ignore it through strenuous physical exertion'. For once, he's not using Byfrost in his training; he's instead battering an enormous sandbag with his bare hands. This requires more effort than it seems, as Koltira must focus on his strikes in order to prevent slamming the sandbag off of its hook and into the wall. He punches with discipline, with restrained force, but even that is slowly wearing a hole in the leather.
He's dressed down, too: his long, pale hair is drawn into a ponytail and he's out of the armor, wearing just a black tunic and pants.
The sword is still there, though, as he cannot be out of its proximity for very long. It's propped up against the nearest wall, oozing shadows so thick they're almost--almost--tangible. The miasma crawling up and down the sword's blade had intensified following the battles on Elmer's world, and the sword's murmurings--usually soft and rudimentary urges to keep fighting, keep bloodletting--have recently become more hostile and complex. He's not sure what's going on, though he has a few ideas.
Ideas he would rather not contemplate, honestly.
Hence: the punching bags.]
Location: Initiative training rooms
Characters: Koltira, perhaps yourself
Summary: Big dead elf guy swings big scary sword. Scary sword leaks black miasma all over the place.
Warnings: Pls do not touch the miasma. Or the elf. Honestly, you really shouldn't be here at all.
[Koltira hasn't seen much of anyone for the last few days. Although the events on that doomed other world had staved off the edge of his bloodthirst, he's now facing another problem.
Well.
He's not so much 'facing it' as he is 'doing his best to ignore it through strenuous physical exertion'. For once, he's not using Byfrost in his training; he's instead battering an enormous sandbag with his bare hands. This requires more effort than it seems, as Koltira must focus on his strikes in order to prevent slamming the sandbag off of its hook and into the wall. He punches with discipline, with restrained force, but even that is slowly wearing a hole in the leather.
He's dressed down, too: his long, pale hair is drawn into a ponytail and he's out of the armor, wearing just a black tunic and pants.
The sword is still there, though, as he cannot be out of its proximity for very long. It's propped up against the nearest wall, oozing shadows so thick they're almost--almost--tangible. The miasma crawling up and down the sword's blade had intensified following the battles on Elmer's world, and the sword's murmurings--usually soft and rudimentary urges to keep fighting, keep bloodletting--have recently become more hostile and complex. He's not sure what's going on, though he has a few ideas.
Ideas he would rather not contemplate, honestly.
Hence: the punching bags.]
no subject
[It brought back a vision from the past, darkness so thick that it dripped into a pool like pitch. He shook his head, but this was not an old nightmare.]
The darkness is bigger.
no subject
It's not your concern.
no subject
[He closed his eyes. What else could he do? Koltira had told him that he would handle it if it became a problem and Ico trusted him. He grabbed his shield and he felt the surface of it. Its appearance had changed.]
Will you train with me?