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Old July 1, 2015, 09:00 AM   #1
Godah
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[Sancta Nova] [Little Zendir]Sic Transit Gloria...only remains the sand

Some hot day of Summer in Era XXII, It is early evening

Shudder..and a thud..it hurt..the head right on the bottle. Another daze left its trace on the mind of the poor creature. Dirty claws, one even broken partly, scratched through the fur. There was no blood, the Dorin came to wonder if he still had any blood aside from the toxic nectar that he continuously gulped.

Godah's eyes managed to open and the blurred vision of his surrounding began to form. Dorin eyes were not the best our there in the Empire, and a drunk one's were obviously much useless at that point. The stench of cheap fermented camel milk filled his nostrils and rendered him even more disoriented. Trying to remember anything, the only constant word that swirled in his mind was: Godah. He was Godah and that was the only information worth remembering it seemed. He was on the dusty floor obviously with a spilled bottle wetting his neck under his still heavy head.

Finally with a roll he got on all four, a feat for a drunk heavy Dorin. His eyes could finally distinguish his arms, his hands, the darkened and dusted once grey fur. The sand underneath, and the milk drops dripping from his fur and down onto the sand. Each drop let a circle that faded as fast as it appeared. It was a hot summer day, too hot. The sand...it was familiar...was he in the desert? Where was he? The middle aged Dorin was taken by a sudden panick, realising how unfortunate his position was and how vulnerable he would be to an attack. Maybe it came from instinct or a distant reminiscence that his body still held in spite of his intoxicated mind.

With a swift push of his arms and a flexing of his strong legs he would get up and immediately put his hands in front to guard his face, ready to take the enemy. That was at least what his mind planned but as his hands levered slightly his upper body and he pushed on his legs, the heavy seven feet Dorin could barely get to a mere inches from the ground and thrust head strait into the wall he didn't notice was there since quite a long time. The shock was brutal, and the surprise of meeting his enemy so fast rendered the poor creature confused as he fell onto the ground.

It stung. Not only the blow to his face, but reality stung even more. There was no enemy who would attack him. A wall was all he could hope now for an enemy. Who would want to fight a drunk Dorin who could barely stand on his own. He was a disgrace, a shade, sand that wind could blow any time. Godah clenched his jaws and if Dorin could shed tears, it would be perhaps one of those rare moments, but only the drops of the damned fermented milk fell down his jaws and gave him a mixed taste of nectar and dust.

He remained silent, only the heavy breathing and the pain radiating all over his face, the headache amplifying it. He knew it was useless. He had only one thing worth doing: get more bottles from downtown.

It took some efforts and two hours to get up straight and finally the Dorin was walking along one sandy alley of Little Zendir. He hated those moments when he would have to meet all those hard working and honorable Dorin. They would cast a severe eye on him, but none would challenge him. He was not worth a fight anymore. He was tolerated only because of the past. That heavy past. It took everything from him, his city, his life, his will and even the right to get his throat cut by someone's teeth. He was left to rot.

More to drink...he needed to daze away again and so headed down to the lively section of the town looking to trade some of his memories for a good drink.

[OOC]: Looking for moderation/peer
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He was the part that the whole needed. But that was him, before. Not any more.
There was no whole anymore and he was just a lost part.

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Old July 1, 2015, 06:55 PM   #2
Molokai
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Humans and their feckin' cities. It was a thought that rattled in Molokai's brain like a rock in a bucket. For eras the giant minotaur had stayed out of them. He had been a smuggler most of his life, and so he visited mankind and his clusters only long enough to unload the goods...then back on the boats, and back on the sea.

That was until Blow Hole Bob had told him about another of his own kind that he had seen in a harbor somewhere in the Empire. Its a big empire you idiot, Molokai had spat at him. Bob was drunk most of the time, especially when on shore, and thus remembering which town or port he had spotted the other minotaur in was...well it just wasn't. Wasn't going to happen.

And so Molokai had decided he would travel around the entire empire, quite literally, stopping into every port until he found the other of his kin. Surely if there was another of his kind, then there might be even MORE of them. Molokai had to know. Had to find them.

So he took a job as a sailor aboard the Southern Bounty, based out of Port Alyxandrya, and now found his way, aboard that ship, to the small northern port of Sancta Nova. It was not really a city, more of a large town. He had heard nothing of it, and didn't care to.

Humans and their feckin' cities
...

Look at that poor old sod
, the minotaur thought to himself as Godah staggered out of the gates of Little Zendir, and made his way into the down town. Just outside the Valley's Edge Inn, Molokai stopped and began to chuckle.

"Stupid dog man."
he said in a deep bass. Molokai stood ten feet and a half from hoof to horn, and so he had to look quite far down to watch Godah stumble in front of him, and then along side, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

"Watch yourself, dog!"
he demanded in a booming call.
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Old July 6, 2015, 07:07 PM   #3
Godah
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[OOC]Sorry for the delay. Still trying to find my schedule.

[IC]

It's been a hot brightening and the dorin's head was echoing with a thousand orcish drums. He barely took notice of his surroundings. But one had to understand the poor soul: not only his own fate and the memories of everything that he lost was haunting him, but even when he was not awake or under the effect of liquor nightmare kept twirling in his mind. Every image that assaulted his mind was a collection of horrors and abominations.

Whether it was the heat or the nightmares, but Godah could swear that one of those nightmarish abominations was standing there right next to him. It was big, furry, and horned...what twisted god must have created it and sent it to torment the souls of Telath. And it taunted him.

"Cease ! You demon ! Have you not taken enough !"

The dorin grunted with a hysteric movement of his head. It was as if he was chasing some ghosts around his mind his eyes were open but not clearly letting the tormented soul transpire. What was this creature of Aeternia seeking? Godah was in between his thoughts when the minotaur called him a dog again. A that moment it would take a powerful mystic such as Duncan Syth to pierce what thread of reactions happened in Godah's mind, but nonetheless and without any regard to sense and reality, the dorin was taken by a sudden rage.

Some call it the dorin rabies, some other say it is just their bloody nature coming to the surface but scholars have known now that curse that afflicted dorin and drove them crazy. The arakmatan was seized by such a dementia.

"This dog will slit you throat cow!"

With no more elegant words for a challenge, the dorin launched his assault. His instinct still aware of the size difference, he aimed to reach for the bigger enemy's throat. Once, when he was still leading the troops of the arakmatan militia, he would have easily thrust on his powerful legs and grabbed with deep claws on the cowman's shoulder and held firmly with his jaw on the throat. Few ever succeeded in getting a dorin's teeth from its prey, even if it often meant the death of said dorin. But Godah was no longer that dorin, he was older, not in shape and most of all completely disoriented. So his assault, even though one could feel the rage and bestiality and the threat of crazy happening, ended mostly with him striking the minotaur to his abdomen and digging his claws if he landed any in the enemy's skin.

The scene was a mess, sand dust all in the air and grunts coming from the fog.
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He was the part that the whole needed. But that was him, before. Not any more.
There was no whole anymore and he was just a lost part.

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Old July 7, 2015, 05:33 AM   #4
Molokai
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Dogman is insane. These were the thoughts that ran through Molokai's mind as he watched the dorin stagger about, and then out of no where lunge at him. The Minotaur was nearly twice the size of the drunken half wit, but had more agility then most would give him credit for.

Dodge. Molokai moved before he thought it, moving to one side to try and avoid the attack from Godah. I should beat him senseless, he thought to himself. If the minotaur was able to dodge the attack, he would turn to face the dorin, and call for him to stop...or else. If Godah, in his drunken state, was still successful in latching on to Molokai, then the minotaur would simply reach down to grab the dorin, and try to remove him, before tossing him aside like an irritating stinger nettle...
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Old July 13, 2015, 08:09 PM   #5
Straylor Leonard

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To say that Godah was slower than he was used to was generous. Molokai watched the piss drunk dorin wander toward him in almost-slow motion. Sure, Godah was an impressive seven feet tall during his prime. But eras of wasting away in one tavern or another really degraded his ability to even stand straight. As for weapon skills, sure they were in there somewhere in his furry head; but blame it on the alcohol, right?

Completely disoriented as he was, Godah still had the same killer instincts his ancestors blessed him with. Just not the speed or strength he was used to commanding in times of violence. So the minotaur sort of just sidestepped and watched the dorin fling himself into an empty space. Under the haze of cheap liquor and bad decisions, Godah vaguely heard the minotaur’s massive voice calling him for him ‘Stop’.

A small group of bystanders were already beginning to gather to see what the commotion was all about.
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