Post by sangui on May 18, 2005 16:18:43 GMT -5
Those who do not judge.
The trees do not judge the appearances of others. Each one is gnarled and twisted to its own pecuiliarity, and so they are used to the strange and the hideous. They are as old as the hills, from the first dawn, and are wise. They know much, but do not dispense that wisdom without slow thought. The trees are those who do not judge, they are friends to the beautiful and the ugly. Mabye even more towards the latter, since the sight-pleasing are not always considerate of the trees.
Callistus was friend and brethren to the trees. It was a symbiotic relationship. He would protect the trees using his masterful art of the sword, and in return, they gave him shelter and a hiding place. Within the dark depths of the forest no one goes save the festering orcs whose life is soon to end. There, amoung the ents as if they were human, dwells Callis, far from the unrigteous society outside of the forest. Callistus the Masked, here he walks in comfort of not being seen save the unhappy chance when a wandering maiden or a reflecting pool should happen upon him. Then, he is masked and remains unknown. A phantom of the trees.
Grown tall and life prolonged with the entwaters, he wears earthy leather clothes; agile from all angles of the forest whether it be in treetops, brush, or glade. Long brown hair cut roughly at the shoulders, outlining his hideous, mutilated face that people draw back in fear of. Here this creature dwells, waiting and dreading the arrival of some foolish maiden hearing of the rumors that he is one of the only teachers left that would teach a woman. But they also hear of more unsavory things... Most of them farse.
Callis was actually on the eastern skirts of the forest, further out than usual. Here the only water lay where it was not meant for the towering ents. Callis drank it every once in a while, but he did not like the thought of becoming a massive giant and living forever. Since he was so close to the forest's edge, he wore a black mask and a matching cloak that swung around his entire body when not in movement, underneath he wore a green longsleeve shirt, rust riding breeches, and tall leather boots.
He walked silently towards the pool, feeling sunlight upon his back as he leaned over to the edge, a small flask in hand. The crystal waters rippled from him as he filled it completely, alert almost without reason. No one usually came into the forest anyways. But still, he was suspicious as the times were changing, a new evil commencing. At his hip was a long, curved blade. The handle black adorned with red jewels. It was loosely sheathed in its matching scabbard, so perfectly wielded by its master.
Standing up, Callis closed the crude wooden cap on his flask.
The trees do not judge the appearances of others. Each one is gnarled and twisted to its own pecuiliarity, and so they are used to the strange and the hideous. They are as old as the hills, from the first dawn, and are wise. They know much, but do not dispense that wisdom without slow thought. The trees are those who do not judge, they are friends to the beautiful and the ugly. Mabye even more towards the latter, since the sight-pleasing are not always considerate of the trees.
Callistus was friend and brethren to the trees. It was a symbiotic relationship. He would protect the trees using his masterful art of the sword, and in return, they gave him shelter and a hiding place. Within the dark depths of the forest no one goes save the festering orcs whose life is soon to end. There, amoung the ents as if they were human, dwells Callis, far from the unrigteous society outside of the forest. Callistus the Masked, here he walks in comfort of not being seen save the unhappy chance when a wandering maiden or a reflecting pool should happen upon him. Then, he is masked and remains unknown. A phantom of the trees.
Grown tall and life prolonged with the entwaters, he wears earthy leather clothes; agile from all angles of the forest whether it be in treetops, brush, or glade. Long brown hair cut roughly at the shoulders, outlining his hideous, mutilated face that people draw back in fear of. Here this creature dwells, waiting and dreading the arrival of some foolish maiden hearing of the rumors that he is one of the only teachers left that would teach a woman. But they also hear of more unsavory things... Most of them farse.
Callis was actually on the eastern skirts of the forest, further out than usual. Here the only water lay where it was not meant for the towering ents. Callis drank it every once in a while, but he did not like the thought of becoming a massive giant and living forever. Since he was so close to the forest's edge, he wore a black mask and a matching cloak that swung around his entire body when not in movement, underneath he wore a green longsleeve shirt, rust riding breeches, and tall leather boots.
He walked silently towards the pool, feeling sunlight upon his back as he leaned over to the edge, a small flask in hand. The crystal waters rippled from him as he filled it completely, alert almost without reason. No one usually came into the forest anyways. But still, he was suspicious as the times were changing, a new evil commencing. At his hip was a long, curved blade. The handle black adorned with red jewels. It was loosely sheathed in its matching scabbard, so perfectly wielded by its master.
Standing up, Callis closed the crude wooden cap on his flask.