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M B: Wolfmist Enters Marind Bell

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Sir Wolfmist Pendragon strolled into the realm of Marind Bell. He didn't find it too pretty a place and wasn't too fond of having to run back to that weird paper shack just for a clue only to have the statue disappear and then sent on a wild goose chase for some stupid herb...

Wolfmist sighed. He had gotten wound up something rotten recently, his soul-creatures weren't enjoying their new home inside him either. His oldest friend, Draymoore, a strange creature wrapped in a hood and wielding two axes, recoiled in disgust, as he usually did, when Wolfmist entered the gates of Marind Bell for the umpteenth time.

It was a horrible place here. It was dirty, the gates were rusty and the many small statues overlooking small buildings were chipped and worn away with age. It was obviously a grand place, once, and Wolfmist presumed it must have been the site of a graveyard one time. But when he arrived for the first time, a carnival was taking place and the occupants had turned the place into some kind of sparring ground. It was still dirty and unkempt, however, and Wolfmist in his clean black travelling robe, cloak and white shirt felt very much out of place. Something moved on his right hand, and looking at it, he saw the eye of one of his creatures. Each one was different but mostly quiet. They hadn't enjoyed the past week.

Wolfmist had appeared in a strange shack with amnesia of how he got there, enticed into adventure by an enchanted scroll on a desk, pockmarked with dents, scratched and graffiti of many visitors. Over the past week he had come to get to grips with the extraordinary idea of souls sharing his body, something he didn't like. At first, anyway. But recently he had come to accept them, welcome them, when he had stumbled into some strange fights. Shadows on the highways, black gooey things blocking his path... these souls that had found his body helped him fight, encouraged him to stand up and keep going.

Wolfmist wasn't really a fighter, but he had been forced into new and almost unbelievable circumstances. And now, he looked to continue and maybe even find a way out of this world, and find out more about who he really was. All he knew about his name was a tattoo on his chest marking out a Coat of Arms and a ribbon in Latin below it... he often wondered why it would even be tattooed there...

But now, here he was in Marind Bell, with no reason to fight other than to survive and move on out of this mess. Draymoore moved restlessly over his skin, also a tattoo strangely attached to his Coat of Arms, but always constantly moving around Wolfmist's body.

Now he saw Draymoore's eye, a strange golden glint amid shadow. It was as if he was trying to warn Wolfmist of this place, although he had been here many times already this week... Wolfmist nodded as if he understood and walked boldly into the carnival of duellers.

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Wolfmist watched from the sidelines. He had been beaten a fair number of times before he decided that he wasn't going to get anywhere. Not yet, anyway. Draymoore was in a bad mood. He was silent for the majority of the time and only spoke when there was danger... but even when silent Wolfmist could sense his moods. And at the moment, his bad mood stank more than manure heap.

He sat on the sidelines. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't need food in this realm. Although he had drank a labelled health potion he found lying around a statue of a fish, he didn't sense the need to eat anything and had noticed the complete lack of hot-dog stands. And Carnivals always had at least one hot dog stand, but not this one.

Wolfmist sighed, he was missing home and he hardly ever talked to anyone. It was strange, here, full of weirdos dressed up in strange animal-like costumes or had their heads covered in black hoods. It was meant to be a carnival but there was no colour here... even Wolfmist was dressed in black with long black scruffy hair halfway down his back.

He watched a few duels and saw that people always tried to fight to the best of their abilities. They didn't care about winning or losing, just that they did everything they could. He also noticed that he wasn't the only one with creatures sharing their souls. He had lots of questions to ask but anyone he had talked to only seemed to be short in answer or just, well, strange. Had they all been left here, abandoned by other humans to fend for themselves?

Wolfmist reasoned that they had all be turned in nature by the creatures that wrapped around their master's mortal coil, and as such speech or friendly appearances were of minimal interest - all they seemed to care about is the will to fight. Warriors, each and every one of them. But what were they fighting for? What kept them going? Wolfmist was just fighting for survival, for a chance to find a way home.

He had been as far as he could but most paths out of here either ended abruptly or just trailed off into water. There was one path, however, guarded by animated trees that lead to a place called Loreroot. There was one clue, a note written by another, about a potion one could take to the trees... but he needed to get into a shop guarded by two animated suits of armour. He had defeated one of them but had almost been totally killed off by the other... if it wasn't for a poor wretched soul that he had found skulking around, he would have died completely.

That was a strange soul, it either screamed in torment or sulked alone when it wasn't fighting, or just seemed to stand there doing one thing. Healing. It healed Wolfmist and all the other critters latched onto his soul. But it never spoke. The only time it had ever taken notice of anything was when it bonded to Wolfmist... and that was weird, too.

Wolfmist was kicked out of his reverie when something hit his shoulder. He looked up and saw only people walking past. Some drunk must have stumbled into him. Oh, wait, there was no alcohol here, or none that he had seen. Pity... Wolfmist would have liked a bottle of whisky about now.

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Malaikat Maut briskly maneuvers through the Marble Dale Park, and, uninteresting in sparring, he makes his way toward the land's southern gate. However, seeing the black clad stranger off to the side and appearing out of place, Malaikat stops short and stands to observe him a moment. He is not so unlike the many newcomers to the realm who each seem similarly unadjusted to their new surroundings, but there is something particularly curious about him. Perhaps it is his dress or the blend of confusion and disgust that marks his visage.

Malaikat casually approaches the man and offers a cordial greeting before remarking, "[color="#0000FF"]you seem to be a little...lost. Is there perhaps something I can aid you with?[/color]"

Edited by Malaikat Maut
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