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Post by Gaien on Nov 19, 2004 0:32:14 GMT -5
At early light Gaien set out with Dargais to the former home of his parents, not knowing what emotional turmoil might ravage him knowing that his parents had been murdered there.
Dargais, with the uncanny empathy of the elven people, seemed to sense that Gaien did not wish to talk, nor required comfort. She walked lightly beside him, as insistent as a shadow and just as unobtrusive. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, Gaien would catch tears falling from her face onto the grass below. He appreciated her sympathy and knew in his heart that she too ached for the loss of his parents, as they had been as kind to her over the years as they had to him.
Cresting the final hill in the early dawn, Gaien’s heart caught between beats as he gazed across the small field to where his former home lay. The bloody hue of the morning sun painted the home with an air of malevolence and a years worth of neglect had taken its toll on the poor wooden hut. Vines and undergrowth streaked up the sides and, unbidden, had begun to slink into the cracks between some of the planks on the side. A vast amount of moss had formed on the side of the house where the vines and other weeds had not ventured and it emitted a dismal appearance.
The front door had been torn off its hinges. It lay a few feet from the entrance, deeply gouged and warped by the year’s weather. Dargais had spoken truly when she stated that some large animal had attacked his parents; the slashes in the door appeared to be from claws bigger than Gaien’s own hands. In addition, it seemed as if the fame of the entryway had been forced to accommodate a creature of great size. Whatever it had been it was no wonder that two aging elves had had no chance in such a fight.
Gaien started forward into the house, his long strides pumping with a determination that betrayed his mounting frustrations. It seemed as if every good, every thing that he held dear, was being stripped from him with a vehemence unmatched. Was he to become as Phelan had been, lost and alone in the world, wandering without cause or friendship?
Dargais’ presence as he stepped through the doorway brought him back to his senses. At least he still had his friends, though he would grow old and die long before they reached their middle years, but their friendship he would retain.
The interior of the house was in no better condition that the exterior. Someone, presumably Dargais and his friends, had cleaned up most of the blood and bile that must have coated the room, but they left the ravaging destruction of the house untouched.
Paintings hung askew, tapestries and fabrics had been lacerated by the same set of malevolent claws that had stolen his parent’s lives. The table had been overturned and smashed to bits, the few pieces that still remained were covered in small insects that gnawed away at the once fine wood. Deep slash marks littered the interior and all about the air was thick with the buzzing of flies.
Gaien could take no more; he turned quickly and exited the hut, then abruptly emptied his guts onto the ground. Undigested bits of the previous evenings meal combined with a breakfast of nuts and bile, filling the air with an even more fetid stench.
Yet, like the flies that had been drawn to the scene of this horror, Gaien felt himself drawn back inside. Dargais watched mutely as he retched outside and return, concern etched lines across her normally beautiful face, but she still kept her peace and allowed Gaien to continue unhindered.
He walked through the main entry room and into the bedroom of his parents. The stark diversity between the two rooms had Gaien reeling. Where the main room was awash with ruination and destruction, the bedroom of his parents seemed tranquil in contrast.
Everything remained just how his parents might have left it, the bed neatly laid, the chest tucked nicely against the foot of their bed. The only thing that spoiled the picture of happiness was the tale of uninhabited unkempt. Dust had settled in great amounts about the room and moths and other bugs had eaten away at the fabrics.
Delicately, Gaien opened the chest at the foot of the bed, the contents of the chest stirred his heart and tears came unwanted to his eyes. He brushed them away earnestly, but more came until his vision blurred to the point of blindness.
“Here,” Dargais simple statement nearly shocked Gaien, it was the first she had spoken since they set out and it made him acutely aware of her presence, “Use this, you had it in a death grip when I found you.” She produced a clump of blue cloth from the folds in her tunic and offered it to him. Gaien took it, using it to help clear his vision. When he had finished he couldn’t help but notice that it was the same cap that one of the orcs in the tunnel had been wearing before the explosion.
“Thank you.” He wanted to say more, the earnestly and kindness in her simple gesture demanded it, but he could not produce the words. Instead he returned to the contents of the chest.
Inside lay paintings that his mother had drawn of their family. Pictures of Gaien and Aramis playing, of them all together near the lake, the clothes his parents had found him in and some of the clothes his mother had made when he was still but a babe. Tears threatened to rise up again, but Gaien fought them down with fierce determination. Something else glinted in the early morning light at the bottom of the chest.
Carefully setting aside the other contents, Gaien recognized at once the pair of twin blades that sat at the bottom of the chest. His father had been a master at his craft, but laid it aside when they found Gaien, deciding instead to devote his spare time to Gaien’s care. The pair of short swords were one of his finest examples of craftsmanship. After Gaien had grown some he returned to the forge only to craft these last two blades. He had planned on giving them to Aramis the very night he was slain.
Gently, Gaien removed the swords and set them aside. After returning everything else to the inside of the chest he carried the blades outside into the morning sun. The chill morning air grazed across his bare skin as he knelt down to examine his fathers work more carefully.
The blades were magnificent, each etched with a detail and care that made them true pieces of art, but that was only the beginning. The weight and balance of the blades made them fell as light as air in his grasp and the quality of steel was unmatched. These he would keep. He would use them on the creature that had killed his parents, if it still lived. First however, there were other matters to attend to.
“Dar,” Gaien said, “Where is Dedrick?”<br> A look of startled confusion flashed across her delicate features before she answered. “He left a few weeks ago to travel to Halas. He said he had finally found a bird that he could teach to swim, why?”<br> Her question hung in the air like an accusation, but he would not be daunted now. “I need to speak with him Dar, and I need to go alone. I’m leaving as soon as I can.”<br> “You come home after so long, only to leave again and you say you are going alone?” Tears filed her eyes as she flung her words at him. “I won’t let you go alone Gaien! Dammit! Who do you think you are?”<br> “I’m sorry Dar, I have to do this alone.” Sadness filled his voice as he spoke and his head drooped with the guilt of knowing that by not letting her attend, he was hurting her.
“No you don’t!” she screamed back “You have too much to bear as it is, do you think doing it alone is going to help you heal?”<br> “Dar! I’m going alone and that’s final! I don’t want you with me!” His shouts echoed across the field, but the sounds of Dargais’ sobs echoed more loudly than the sound of her feet as she ran away. He couldn’t let her come with him, too much was unknown. He couldn’t risk her life on his journey, not when she might be the only person left that he truly loved…
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Post by Gaien on Nov 23, 2004 22:48:04 GMT -5
Gaien left his woodland home of Telethen behind with great trepidation. He had barely said hi to those he knew and hadn’t planned on visiting the town, except he had only tatters for clothing and no supplies other than the twin blades that he now wore buckled at his hip. Indeed when he had first entered town he had been accosted by the guards, thinking him for a vagrant and he had had a devil’s time convincing the banker that he was indeed who he claimed to be.
He had purchased a small backpack and filled it with various rations and supplies, as well as the remains of the clothing that midwife McKeef had given him. He was headed back to Halas and planned on returning the clothes to her. He knew she would never take any payment for the clothing so Gaien placed a few hundred tunare in the folds of the cloth. It wasn’t much, but it was the only way he could think of to repay her.
He had made sure to purchase a thick wool cloak in addition to his leaf patterned tunic and britches. A new pair of good-soled boots and gloves accompanied his new array as well as a double frog for the blades his father had crafted.
Part of him wanted to track down the vile beast that had so abruptly ended the life he had known, but as the event happened so long ago he would have little chance of finding it, assuming that it hadn’t been slain by someone else. Another part of him wanted to go after the goblins that had taken the knife that Phelan had given him, but once again he would have little success in that venture. It seemed as if his list of obligations was growing longer each day, with smaller chances of success.
In the end he decided that his best course was his original one. To find Dedrick and inquire about the rune upon his shoulder, so he spoke a few quick words to the coachman and promised to let no harm come to the horse, then he began his long ride to the frigid north and the halls of Halas…<br>
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Post by Gaien on Dec 14, 2004 22:47:10 GMT -5
Gaien’s horse gave out before ever reaching Halas, the poor beast was quite old and even though Gaien had been gentle with the beast, the freezing north winds were more than it could bear. Gaien felt bad that he could not keep his promise to the coachman, but he would repay him at a later date.
Gaien was only a few leagues from Halas and didn’t want to be caught in the wilderness at night, not with the frost and the many goblins about, so he left the horse where it lay, after gathering the few supplies had had purchased. He knew that the horse would not go to waste; there were plenty of wolves and other ravenous beasts about.
He journeyed forth, trudging through the deep snow until something caught his eye. Realizing what he was seeing, Gaien deftly hid himself in some brush, making no more noise than a mouse.
Near the bank of the river two dark elves were conversing and inspecting the remains of a campsite. As Gaien peered closer it seemed that a skirmish had taken place earlier, as there was blood still fresh on the ground. The two dark elves hastily sped off in the direction the trail of blood led. Normally Gaien would have followed the pair and put an end to whatever diabolical schemes they were up to, but he had had enough of the Tier’Dal over the last few months. When he reached Halas he would warn the local guard and let them deal with the issue.
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Post by Gaien on Dec 23, 2004 1:06:33 GMT -5
The crisp air of the ever-present northern winter seemed to soak into Gaien’s lungs, filling them with an icy chill that strangely felt like drowning. Gaien had begun his short journey to Halas with a jog in his step, but he had gone no more than a league before he was forced to slow to a brisk walk. He had a new admiration for the hardy barbarians of Halas now.
Eventually his brisk walk turned into a slow walk and by the time he was less than a league away from Halas his gate had become a slow trudge. The bite of the snow seemed to sting a Gaien, even through the many layers of his clothing. Every step began to feel as if tiny knives were thrusting against his skin.
The smell of campfire smoke filled his nostrils and Gaien altered his course to find the source. His curiosity led him near the bank of the river and there he discovered, to his surprise, a silvery haired elf petting a small, odd looking, black bird.
The bird had short legs that it stood on and was covered in short, tiny black feathers, accented by a sharp white coloration on its breast. It had a small, yellow beak and as Gaien watched, the elf fed the odd little bird a fish. As Gaien walked nearer the crunch of snow must have alerted both the elf and the bird, for the bird waddled off to the water, and to Gaien’s shock, jumped in and swam away.
As Gaien regained his senses he turned to the silver haired elf and found a pair of icy blue eyes staring back at him, amusement and surprise flickering in them.
“Did I not tell you I would teach birds to swim and fish to fly?” The voice of Gaien’s dear friend Dedrick asked and Gaien could not help but laugh in response.
“So you did old friend, so you did. But to my reckoning you seem to only be halfway there, as I see no flying fish!”<br> Dedrick smiled, “Further down the bank I will show you just that. These northlands are an amazing place.” Dedrick carefully regarded his friend. “I sense that your travel here was not just to catch up on old times. You’ve been gone many years young one, and when we last met I feared it might be our last. Much has changed in you Gaien and you seem haunted. Sit by the fire and tell me all that has happened to you.”<br> So long had it been since the two friends had seen each other that it was near nightfall before his tale was complete. When he reached the parts about burring his friend Phelan and his parents, Gaien felt tears well up inside. During these moments, Dedrick did nothing but listen and comfort him when it was needed. He left out the part about his feelings for Dargais, however, still unsure of them and wanted to wait until he was certain of how he felt before expressing them to anyone.
At long last Gaien finished his tale, all the while the druid just listened, and Gaien asked Dedrick for some help in discovering the meaning behind the rune inscribed upon his arm.
“Ah, yes! Well it’s simply really, and these things date back over two thousand years to the time of the first magus, but that’s another story. What your brother, or the shade there of has placed upon you is truly a great gift, it’s-“ Dedrick’s explanation was cut short by the scream of a young woman that filled the air.
Dedrick gave Gaien a knowing look and Gaien sped off into the night, trusting his druid friend to keep up with him. Again the scream pierced the cool night air, the sound of it filling his ears with dread. He rushed across the snow, uncaring about the tracks he might leave and crested a hill to find a young woman struggling with a large beast.
Without thought Gaien leapt down the hill and charged the creature, uttering a horse battle cry in an effort to distract it. His plan worked to well. The beast had struck the woman helpless on the ground and at the sound of Gaien’s charge, turned towards him and uttered a deep, menacing growl, the growl of a werewolf.
Gaien skidded to a halt a few yards from the creature. Gaien had heard tales of a werewolf’s agility and strength and did not wish to be caught off guard, least he end up like the unconscious woman. The pair began to circle each other in a slow dance that amongst many warriors was known as the death dance. The two locked gazes and each waited for the other to make their move.
In the end Gaien’s patience won out and the werewolf lashed out at him with its sharp claws, a small strike intended to test the defenses of its prey, but with such force that had it landed, it would have rend Gaien’s belly. Gaien had drawn his twin blades during his sprint to the woman’s aid and as he nimbly dodged out of the way Gaien spun his left blade in an underhanded arc that was meant to sever the werewolf’s hand at the wrist, but the creature was just as quick as the legends had made it out to be and retracted its arm before the blow could connect.
Without missing a beat, Gaien followed through with his attack by stepping forward with his left leg and pivoting on his heel, driving his other blade down in a vicious chop. Again, the werewolf’s quickness saved it, but it did not escape unscathed. Instead of being split in two by the powerful blow it leaped back and a harsh line of torn flesh was etched across its torso.
The creature let loose a howl, a terrible wailing noise that hurt Gaien’s ears and sent chills down his spine. Taking advantage of the creature’s distraction, Gaien spun his blades in a whirling arc, his first blade cut clean through the upper portion of the werewolf’s snout, sending it flying into the snow with the spray of red mist. The werewolf began to howl in pain, but choked on its own blood instead as Gaien’s second blade erupted from the back of the creatures spine.
Gaien’s second thrust had been far more effective than he had intended and he had driven his blade clean to the hilt. As a result it took him a few moments to free his blade. Gaien knelt next to the woman, barbarian by her build and turned her towards him. It was Elasia…<br>
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Post by Gaien on Dec 23, 2004 2:43:49 GMT -5
Gaien’s heart caught in his throat for a moment, as he feared what injuries the young lass might have sustained from her struggle with the werewolf, but upon closer inspection Gaien discovered only a large bruise that was beginning to form at the base of her temple.
“She’ll be fine, I have just the herbs to awaken her” Dedrick’s approach had been so stealthy that Gaien had not even heard the elf until he spoke.
“What took you so long?” Gaien demanded. The battle must have raged for several minutes before he had managed to kill the werewolf, plenty of time for the nimble young elf to catch up to him.
Dedrick’s pained smile made Gaien feel foolish. “I slipped on a rock near the river bank just yesterday and I’m afraid my ankle has not yet fully healed, despite my best efforts.”<br> Gaien wanted to burry his head in the snow, he should not have snapped at his friend. “Deed, I’m sorry, I should have known that you would not so easily abandon me.”<br> “Bah, no worries and I would not feel abandoned if I were you. Besides, I assumed it must have been the blood lust and battle rage that caused you to speak so” A smile spread across Dedrick’s face as he spoke. “Now to tend to the young woman, I think I’ve seen her before” He knelt down to place some herbs into her mouth.
“Deed,” Gaien said, again using the nickname he had given Dedrick many years ago, “This is Elasia, the daughter of the midwife I told you about.”<br> “Ah indeed. Well I would like to know what she was doing out this late in the eve and how she happened across the path of a werewolf. They do not usually approach so close to a city.” Elasia moaned and opened her eyes.
At first her eyes were still wide with terror, but after seeing Dedrick she visibly relaxed. “Thank you brave elf for rescuing me.” She said weakly
“Bah, as much as I would like to take credit for such and act, the dues go to my friend here. I believe you two have met?” Dedrick smiled as he pointed to Gaien, resting on a frozen stump nearby.
“Gaien!” she exclaimed, “Oh Gaien, I’m so glad ta see ye! I need yer help, the both of ya.” Elasia stammered, “Me mother... she’s very ill, I was headed to an’ther village ta get help as our shaman is away… that werewolf followed me… oh please, please help!” She said everything in such a rush that it was hard for Gaien to make sense of her jumbled words.
“What’s wrong with your mother Elasia?” Gaien couldn’t bear the thought of something horrible happening to a woman so kind and he silently promised to do what he could to help. He would finish questioning Dedrick about his rune later.
“Some ill has befallen her. She was struck by a goblin arrow this morn and ‘er health seems to be failin’ rapidly! Even now she’s weak in body an ‘er spirits leaving ‘er”<br> “Gaien, I’ll gather my things from the camp and meet you in Halas. I promise to be as quick as I can.” He turned to Elasia and with a look that was filled with sympathy he said, “I’ll be there soon, your mom will not enter the halls of her ancestors before her time, do not fret.” Dedrick smiled, nodded to Gaien and set off in the direction of his camp.
Wasting no time, Gaien gathered Elasia in his arms and sped off with her towards Halas. Once they were within the sight of the city guards, several ran towards them and helped Gaien carry Elasia towards the home of midwife McKeef. Gaien hastily explained all that had transpired as they ran.
When Gaien finally reached the midwife, he was struck at the sharp contrast in physical well being that had occurred. When he had last left her, midwife McKeef was a loud, boisterous woman, filled with heath and the natural hardiness of her people. Now she seemed frail and weak. Elasia had not exacerbated her explanation of her mothers’ heath.
“What did you say did this to her Elasia?” He asked quietly.
“’ere, dis is the arrow dat hit ‘er” Elasia handed him the broken shaft of an arrow. Gaien let out a small start at the sight. It was no goblin arrow, but the arrow of a Teir’Dal. What were goblins doing with dark elf weapons?
“Elasia I’ll be right back, I’m going to go help Dedrick, my elf friend” He added after seeing a confused look on her face. With that he ran out of Halas in the direction of Dedrick’s camp. He had not gone too far past the sight of the city before something struck the back of his head.
The last thing Gaien would ever remember that night was the feeling of blood rushing from his skull as he landed, face first, into the cool night snow…<br>
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Post by Gaien on Jan 12, 2005 1:19:06 GMT -5
Gaien drifted through the blackness of the void, feeling nothing. He had been here before, speaking with the shade of his dead brother, but it felt different now, hollow. It was almost as if he kept fading in and out of existence in this place. He himself felt… vacant. Like a part of him was missing.
“You do not belong here now!” Came the wailing voice of Aramis, and instantly Gaien was blinded by a luminescent light that shined so brightly in contrast to the darkness around him that Gaien’s eyes stung. Gaien felt himself being drawn towards the light…<br> “We eats it, Aglog?” The goblin whined.
“No! Lotac not want anything eatens! Not evens ugly dark elf lady! We bring this ones back for him” The goblin identified as Aglog retorted.
…“Pass on to the other side and awaken” The voice spoke, but Gaien could not. Each time he tried to cross the threshold from the darkness of the spirit world into the light he felt a barrier. Gaien struggled and tried with all his might but something kept holding him back. Some malevolent force refused him passage from one realm to the other.
“Hurry!” the voice cried, “If you do not pass into the light soon, your soul shall be lost here forever and you shall perish! Hurry!”<br> Gaien tried to voice a reply but found that he could not speak. His arms and legs felt like the strength was being sapped from them and he sank to the floor…<br> “AAAGGGGHHH!” Aglog’s scream pierced the chill air. He stared dumbly at the end of a spear tip protruding from his chest, then sank heavily to the ground, choking on his own blood.
“Now we eats big feats human, and not tells Lotac!” Cried the goblin that slew Aglog and bent down to take an enormous bite out of Gaien’s leg. The fresh scent of blood drew the others who had been standing idly before.
…The Reaper opened his eyes. He did not know where he was, but he knew he had to leave, and soon. Darkness surrounded him, seemingly swallowing his existence whole. A bright light shone not too far off in he distance and the Reaper moved towards it.
“What? No! Leave this place and return to whence you came!” A voice cried, but the Reaper ignored it and moved towards the light…<br> “Me wants its heart!” and the goblin drew a wicked looking knife and held it high above its head for a brief second, then plunged it downward with all its might into Gaien’s chest.
…A surprise greeted the Reaper when he arrived at the portal of light. On the ground before him lay a spirit, apparently dying. The spirit glanced up at the Reaper and mustered all it’s strength. “H… help… me…” it croaked at him.
The Reaper despised weakness and stepped through into the light. A scream of “Nooooo!” echoed in the darkness behind him…<br> The Reaper opened his eyes and pain assaulted him. He was beset by goblins, and they had wounded him greatly. Ignoring the pain he drew one of the blades at his sides and sliced through the arm of a goblin that had driven its dagger deep into his chest. The goblin screamed and the others hesitated, dumbfounded by their companions severed arm, still clutching the hilt of its dagger. The Reaper used that time to kick up onto its feat and slash out with its other blade, severing the head of a goblin that was still chewing on some flesh.
The other goblins let out a wail of panic and fled, but one did not move quick enough. The Reaper stepped on the back of the slimy beast’s leg and brought it to it’s knees. A whimper of “Please don’t” was all that could escape its lips before the Reaper drove his blade deep into it’s chest. The goblin fell over, blood sputtering from its mouth as it lashed about it its death throes.
The Reaper examined his wounds quickly and yanked the dagger from his chest and threw it, and the still attached arm into the snow. He was in dire need of medical attention, but that could wait. Now was the time for hunting goblins…
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Post by Gaien on Feb 3, 2005 19:42:54 GMT -5
A chilling smile spread across the Reapers lips as he thrust the two feet of steel into the goblin’s chest, twisting the blade so that it was driven to the hilt. The goblin thrashed uncontrollably for a moment before sliding off the blade to the ground, drowning in its own blood.
He had tracked the fleeing goblins through the harsh snows for several hours before finally finding the last of them. They had all died in such a fashion; all cut down like so much wheat before the scythe. It was pathetic really. The goblins he remembered were not such cowards, but that was several millennia ago now. He remembered being here when this world was first formed, remembered dying a thousand deaths and living a thousand lives, but always before there had been someone to guide him towards his purpose, whatever it had been at the time. This time was different though. He had not been called forth, or summoned with dark ceremonies and fountains of blood, he had simply awoken and found himself in a body that was not his own.
Pushing his thoughts aside, the Reaper began to look about for anything serviceable that might help him cleanse his wounds. He tore small strips of cloth and leather from the bodies of the goblins around him and found a small, unused cooking pot in one of the sacks. Lighting a small fire he placed fresh snow into the pot and brought it to a boil.
Cleaning his wounds was a slow and painful process and by the time he had finished it was nearly daylight again. The Reaper closed his eyes and decided to rest for a few hours. Then he would continue to hunt.
Please…
The Reaper sat up with a start, spinning about on his left heal, blades weaving about him in a fury of steel death. The voice had sounded like someone was right next to him, but there was nothing there. The voice had been very faint, but clear. Almost a whisper on the wind.
He stopped for several minutes, listening, counting heartbeats, but nothing more was to be heard except the crackle of the dying fire. The Reaper once again settled down, but he decided to sleep lightly this night…<br>
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Post by Gaien on Feb 13, 2005 17:22:51 GMT -5
"What shall be done now?" The question came from the voice that sounded like rain falling on the plains, female, he guessed. He liked that voice. It was a sweet, melodic, charming voice that always seem to give him comfort.
"It’s purpose is done, destroy it and move on." This voice was filled with spite and hate. Contempt dripped from each word and seemed to sting him with their very sound. Definitely a male.
"And what if we need it again?" chimed a third voice, a voice that seemed to float softly on a breeze and filled with love. Another female. "The battles have been won, but this war is far from over I fear."
"If we need another we will make one. It serves no purpose now. They have been driven back, the tide turned. It will be several thousand millennia before they can recover! It has done it’s job, and better than we had ever hoped. Destroy it, least you forget sister, that it has the power to challenge us as well?"
"Arguing gets us nowhere," piped the voice like rain, "Let us place it within the realm of the spirits. None of us have complete power there and none of us can draw it out again without the knowledge of the others. It cannot escape and it will rest until it is needed again."
Surprisingly, the male was the first to speak. "I agree with this course of action, I feel it is the safest and the best for us all. The covenant between us will be over and I can get back to things of greater importance." Something in the voice made him distrust what had been said.
"Then if that is what has been decided, so be it." There was a hint of worried tension in the soft, lovely voice, but no more was said.
Instantly, he found himself growing weary and darkness fell upon him…<br>
It was always the same dream, but it didn’t bother him much. Dreams were just that, dreams. The Reaper shook off the fresh snow that had fallen on him while he slept and carefully made his way amongst the banks and snow drifts that encompassed his surroundings towards his next goal. The lair of the goblins that had attacked him…<br>
“I’m not sure why it did not work, honest! Perhaps the writings are flawed? They are very old master!” Cried the terrified voice of the Tier’Dal.
“Impudent fool! You dare blaspheme in my presence? You dare say that it is our dark father’s fault and not your own that you cannot complete such a simple task? You have failed me for the last time! If you do not draw it out on your next try I will feed you to the kresh hounds!” Screamed the voice of another Teir’Dal. This one dressed in ornate plate mail and carrying a great sword that glowed black as the night.
“Y… yes… yes master. I will draw it out this time. Please don’t feed me to those beasts…” The dark elf in the armor said nothing, but motioned for his younger companion to continue.
A deep chanting began to resonate throughout the chamber and ever so slowly a dark circle began to appear, suspended in the air in front of the young adept. A chilled breeze began to sweep through the chamber. So slowly did the circle of purplish-black darkness form that a passerby might not have noticed its growth, but grow it did until it reached from the height of the camber to the floor. A small layer of frost covered the chamber.
“Good, now draw it out you fool, before you loose the portal again!”<br> As the young adepts chanting became deeper and more intense, a set of eyes appeared within the mists of the portal, burning with red flames.
“Yes!” cried the ornately armored Tier’Dal, “Keep going you fool, it is almost here and victory against my enemies will be assured!”<br> The young dark elf adept never had to worry about being fed to the kresh hounds that day, for as his chanting reached its zenith, a dark tentacle slithered out of the portal and pulled the young dark elf in. The screams that were heard before the portal snapped shut were enough to keep the other Teir’Dal running for many leagues…<br>
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Post by Gaien on Feb 24, 2005 20:02:17 GMT -5
“Here… here must be a place… yes… here! Now! This will have to do! I need it! This place has been defiled by my enemy… it will track his scent from here!” The figure that ranted was a Tier’Dal, clad in ornate plate mail. His hair was disheveled and he looked as if he had been run nearly to death. A ghostly look was in his eyes as his mad rant continued. “Yes… soon… the voices inside me will stop, screams will… go away…”
Before the figure was what was perhaps a beautiful elven glade, but now the ground had been wilted, animals lay about dead from some unknown cause and the waters ran red with blood. A dead fish sometimes floated to the surface, but it was quickly sucked back down by something that now lurked in the waters.
“His… power… was great to do this. I am more powerful! I will… crush him! It has the might to do so! I know it!”<br> The dark elf dropped to his knees and lifted his head towards the moon. With arms outstretched to either side he began to chant, a low ominous sound that seemed to make the very ground tremble with an urgent desire. Slowly, a dark portal of purple and black energy took shape before the kneeling figure, growing larger with each lyric from the figure’s lips.
Soon the portal had reached a great height and in a language unknown to any the dark elf cried out to the portal, a look of pure ecstasy crossed the Tier’Dal’s face, but only for a moment. The finely crafted armor was ripped from his body and drawn into the portal with hurricane force. Within a matter of seconds the flesh and meat from his body followed, leaving only a bloody skeleton behind.
He had finished his deed.
It called to him… Somewhere, something was calling to the Reaper, urging him to go there. It felt dark, sinister… it felt wrong.
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Post by Gaien on Apr 7, 2005 19:36:42 GMT -5
Blood slowly oozed down the stalactite, creating a thin line of blue against an otherwise gray and colorless mound of suspended stone. There, at the tip of the stalactite the blood pooled until it could hold itself together no longer and gravity pulled the sticky blue ball downwards where it landed with a splash. A small puddle had already formed underneath the stalactite and the single drop sent ripples across the surface.
Drip… Another drop fell.
The blood came from a body that hung suspended in the air by the base of the stalactite. It had been pushed so far up the stone dagger that it was nearly rent asunder. The owner of the corpse, a goblin, still wore an expression of utter terror. It’s eyes wide and vacant, arms and entrails dangling downward.
Drip… drip… drip…<br> Beautiful the Reaper thought. The floor of the cavern was awash with blood and the Reaper knelt in the ancient surakai maner on the center of the small room. He had tracked the last of the goblins to this small enclave. Here he waited until nightfall and entered the cave, extracting his final revenge against the goblins that had attacked him just a few nights ago.
As he knelt, meditating to the relaxing sounds of blood echoing softly against the stone floor, something pulled at his memory. Something about the encounter with these pathetic humanoids tickled the back of his mind so fiercely that he could no longer relax.
A knife? Why had his thoughts brought him to something so simple? The reaper wandered amongst the bodies searching for what might be important, his head barley missing the roof of the small cavern as he stood.
For several long minutes he tediously examined the remains of the two score goblins that littered the cave with no luck. He was about to give up and go back to meditating when something caught his eye.
Almost hidden behind an overturned pot lay a severed forearm, still clutching a knife. This was no goblin made knife, but a knife of Tier’Dal design. In his minds eye he saw a brief flash of a silver haired dark elf, then it was gone. Had the dark elves sent the goblins to assassinate him? It seemed unlikely that they would try such a thing, not after he had served them in their private wars and feuds for over a millennia, but who knew the minds of the twisted ones?
The Reaper took the dagger from the severed arm and placed it in his belt. Perhaps he would pay a visit to Neriak, if it was still where he remembered it. First, however, he needed to meditate and let his wounds heal more.
Drip… drip…<br> His meditation was once again broken by an image…<br> A Teir’Dal stepped into an empty glade. No, not empty, dead. The river was naught but blood and all the animals seemed to be dead. There was an eerie silence and then the dark elf spoke. He couldn’t understand the words, but he knew the ritual that the stupid delf was trying to perform, the same ritual had been performed hundreds of times before, and each time it was to summon him.
Drip…<br> Was the delf trying to summon him? Why? He was already in this plane of existence. Opening another portal to the neather would simply allow whatever creatures choose to do so, to pass freely into this realm. The Tier’Dal had to know that! Unless he was unaware that he had already been summoned into this plane…<br> Suddenly all the flesh and muscle was ripped from the dark elf and flung into the portal, leaving behind little more than a bloody skeleton.
Fool! Several minutes passed and nothing emerged from the portal, though it still hung suspended in the air. It was calling to him.
He needed to close the portal before something worse than him stepped forth. After he was finished he would defiantly pay a visit to Neriak and remind them of who he was and what it meant to call upon the Reaper.
Gathering what few passions he had the Reaper stepped out into the dead of the night and headed towards a glade, somewhere far away…<br>
... A tentacle, blacker than the deepest night and longer than two men streaked out from the great beyond and latched itself on to a large boulder. Then, something not from this world began to pull itself into the mortal realm. Something dark and something terrible…<br>
... Somewhere, deep inside a void he did not know, Gaien cried out. “PHELAN!”<br>
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Post by Gaien on Sept 29, 2006 23:04:57 GMT -5
The Reaper sniffed the air. This cave had grown stale and stagnates in his absence. It had only been a few years since his decent into the caverns beneath Halas; a few years that could not be forgotten.
Something had called to the Reaper and like a dog he had followed. At first he thought it might have been an entity of great evil, something that challenged him, dared him to face it, but now he knew differently.
He had descended into the dark depths after following the visage of a young human man with red hair and emerald eyes. This ghost had led him on a journey though dark and twisting caverns deep under the earth to a cave where he found…
Found what? Himself? The truth? Or just a crazy old Drow Spirit that thought it knew a few things?
He shook his head, letting droplets of moisture flick off his now long hair and beard and into a pool of nearby water. What could a spirit know? Especialy one with a name like Slyfoot. His reflection in the water caught his eye.
Green eyes that were not his stared at dark, matted red hair that hung down in clumps past his shoulders, accented by a thick red mane that covered his face. A face that was covered in dirt and grim, cleaned only by the drops of moisture that slid off his forehead, creating clean streaks that contrasted with his dirty skin.
Pulling a knife from his belt the Reaper began to cut away at his hair and beard until it was neatly trimmed and he no longer looked like a half dead vagrant. The Reaper then stripped down naked and slipped into the cool water of the nearby pool and began to bathe. The water was not too cold, even this far beneath Halas. The fires of the deep depths kept this section of the caves humid and warm.
After he finished bathing the Reaper dressed and ascended the last league to the surface where winters fierce chill bit at his face and eyes. He no longer cared. He needed to find someone. Someone who he was told would set him free.
Someone named Phelan…
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Post by Gaien on Oct 6, 2006 22:42:21 GMT -5
Tears...
This was becoming too much. Why was he not in his own body? What demonic spirit had possessed him so that water ran from his eyes?
The Reaper checked the amulet again. It still pointed Southwest, toward the dandelion eating lands of the accursed elves. The spirit, M'Zors, had told him how to make it, told him part of the truth about who he was and told him only one person could truly set him free. It all seemed to easy and too much like a set up, but the Reaper had spent too many years with the spirit named Slyfoot to know better... or did he?
His soul had somehow found its way into this frail human body and here it was trapped. The only way to be free again was to find a way to separate his soul from the walking meat sack it had inhabited. Only some accursed elf named Phelan knew how to do it.
It would be worth it all though just to be free again...
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