"I don't like it..." Rail said, almost grumbling to himself, something the Assassin found himself doing more and more often in the arid heat of the Calim****e desert. He took the large canteen of water bouncing endlessly at his hip, and raised it to his head, uncapping it along the way. Ferchen tossed an amused smile towards the stoic Assassin, before the man doused his hiar back with the cool liquid.
The four rode through the desert, having acquired a score of camals that would take them from the City of Theives. They head North East, and with great speed. Sethin and Virrilis rode at the head, neither having said a word for the many hours they had already spent riding, leaving Ferchen to cope with Rail in behind.
"Though I trust the elf, his double is another matter..." He returned the cap to it's place in the canteen, then the canteen back to where it hung from the camal's back. "He is a product of the Demon, and is ripe with magic. I doubt he is to be trusted."
Ferchen looked forward as Rail spoke his concerns. She couldn't deny any of them, for she thought them as well. Sethin was the whole reason for them being in the southern deserts, and in Calim****e. Virrilis had asked the two of them to pursue Sethin with him, to defeat the clone, and now they were in league with it. "I don't think Virrilis is one to trust so easily..." She turned her head slightly towards Rail, who was running his natural remaining hand through his now damp hair. "I am sure there is something being hidden from us both, though I don't know what..." She turned her gaze back to where Sethin and Virrilis rode, btoh appearing opposite the other.
To her, Virrilis appeared as a desert prince, adorned in white silks flowing from his body, his honey blonde hair tied back, and neatly groomed. Where his hair ended, a deep blue sash continued on, it's length wrapped about the elf's slender, yet tone frame, only to trail along his side, concealing the simple sheathe holding 'Lash Bearer'. Sethin looked as if he were the mirror image of the Bladesinger, which seemed eerily fitting in the Ranger's mind. The clone wore tight fitting, black material, each muscle seemingly defined by the clothing. The only flecks of colour coming from the occasional sighting of the sapphire blue sheathes strapped to his back, hiding behind the mass of free flowing white hair. The two riding side by side seemed appropriate, and disturbing at the same time, a sight she never thought she would witness...
Lost Souls Story Thread
Talwar woke suddenly. He never slept well the first couple of days after his pilgrimage. He was always haunted by his failure and the loss he felt so deeply. Breathing in the fresh clean air of his hometown. His home? Not anymore, not ever since that faithful night. He only came back now for his vigil and to see that his good friend was alive and well. Those were the only two things that mattered to him.
Getting up swiftly, Talwar donned the clothes left from him by his bed. It was night, and maybe Geldyn was on the watch. It would be good to get reacquainted with him and what had happened to the town over the years. Without a second thought, Talwar brought both his scimitars to their scabbards and started to walk out of the door, when the thought occurred to him "Do I even need these here, in this peaceful town?". Mulling over this for a minute or two, Talwar decided it was best that he carried them. "You never know what could happen,” he thought smirking into the dark.
Dressed and armed, Talwar headed out of the building as silent as the wind and proceed to the main gate. Senses honed through years of living on his own since the age of 5, Talwar noticed all the changes that had occurred in the town. Once it had been growing at a rapid rate. Now there were abandoned homes and shops that seemed to have been closed for months now. He would get his answers from Geldyn he knew that.
Reaching the gate he was astonished to find an Xvart with a white beard standing at the gate with a man who appeared to be a higher-ranking officer and Geldyn. Knowing something was not right, with the brandished sword and the fact no Xvart would ever be alone, Talwar started to move quicker. This smelled like an ambush and his only thought was of Geldyn's safety.
Nur and Haq were in Talwar’s hands as quick as lightening and his pace turned from a slow walk to a deliberate run towards the current confrontation. He had chosen his two scimitars, Haq and Nur for specific reasons over the years. Haq could detect any creature of an evil nature within a large area and Nur had the ability to cause extra damage born of the fury of a long dead Azer King.
Skidding his way in between the Xvart and the other humans, Talwar asked with a smile, “So what brings you to this fair town Xvart?”
Getting up swiftly, Talwar donned the clothes left from him by his bed. It was night, and maybe Geldyn was on the watch. It would be good to get reacquainted with him and what had happened to the town over the years. Without a second thought, Talwar brought both his scimitars to their scabbards and started to walk out of the door, when the thought occurred to him "Do I even need these here, in this peaceful town?". Mulling over this for a minute or two, Talwar decided it was best that he carried them. "You never know what could happen,” he thought smirking into the dark.
Dressed and armed, Talwar headed out of the building as silent as the wind and proceed to the main gate. Senses honed through years of living on his own since the age of 5, Talwar noticed all the changes that had occurred in the town. Once it had been growing at a rapid rate. Now there were abandoned homes and shops that seemed to have been closed for months now. He would get his answers from Geldyn he knew that.
Reaching the gate he was astonished to find an Xvart with a white beard standing at the gate with a man who appeared to be a higher-ranking officer and Geldyn. Knowing something was not right, with the brandished sword and the fact no Xvart would ever be alone, Talwar started to move quicker. This smelled like an ambush and his only thought was of Geldyn's safety.
Nur and Haq were in Talwar’s hands as quick as lightening and his pace turned from a slow walk to a deliberate run towards the current confrontation. He had chosen his two scimitars, Haq and Nur for specific reasons over the years. Haq could detect any creature of an evil nature within a large area and Nur had the ability to cause extra damage born of the fury of a long dead Azer King.
Skidding his way in between the Xvart and the other humans, Talwar asked with a smile, “So what brings you to this fair town Xvart?”
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? - Khalil Gibran
"We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields, and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender!" - Winston Churchill
"We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields, and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender!" - Winston Churchill
Shortly after Gidim had picked his place outside the city, the guard who had refused him entry gave a shout and disappeared from the gate. Under most circumstances he wouldn’t have given a second thought to such occurrences, but ever since he had started resting, his mind had been racing with the thought of what had brought him to this city.
‘This is your chance to get in!’
The thought had come so suddenly it was frightening. But he knew it was right. With a muffled groan and a quick motion of his body he was up and ready. Gripped by the desire to get into the city, Gidim hurriedly shuffled to the gate. Slowly opening it, he glanced in to see what had distracted the guard. An xvart was standing in front of the two guards. As the guards were speaking to the xvart, a man, with two scimitars drawn, rushed between the xvart and the guards.
‘Fool, that is no ordinary xvart!’ Rushed through Gidim’s head.
Once again he was surprised at the abruptness, but had no time to ponder it as he saw the guards starting to look around.
‘Quickly into the inn!’ a small inn lay to the side of the town near the gate.
He slowly edged through the gate and made a quick dash towards the inn. TRAVELER’S HAVEN was posted across the front of the building. With one more look to make sure no one had seen him, Gidim ducked into the inn.
‘This is your chance to get in!’
The thought had come so suddenly it was frightening. But he knew it was right. With a muffled groan and a quick motion of his body he was up and ready. Gripped by the desire to get into the city, Gidim hurriedly shuffled to the gate. Slowly opening it, he glanced in to see what had distracted the guard. An xvart was standing in front of the two guards. As the guards were speaking to the xvart, a man, with two scimitars drawn, rushed between the xvart and the guards.
‘Fool, that is no ordinary xvart!’ Rushed through Gidim’s head.
Once again he was surprised at the abruptness, but had no time to ponder it as he saw the guards starting to look around.
‘Quickly into the inn!’ a small inn lay to the side of the town near the gate.
He slowly edged through the gate and made a quick dash towards the inn. TRAVELER’S HAVEN was posted across the front of the building. With one more look to make sure no one had seen him, Gidim ducked into the inn.
Lost Souls - The Search for Magus
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Rob-hin
- Posts: 4832
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2001 11:00 am
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Yolta cursed to himself buy remained smiling, he had hoped for the two of them to be distracted long enough for him to cast a quickened suggestion spell. With it, he could have convinced the guards that he was harmless. The fist chance he gets, he decided, he would buy a ring of suggestion especially for such occasions.
“Of course, sir, will I come with you; if only to prove my harmlessness.” About to follow the sergeant, he noticed a person approaching them with great speed.
Two scimitars, fine magical weapons by the looks of it, blocked the line of communication between him and the sergeant; as the man positioned himself between them. Yolta wondered how the sergeant would respond about this new man challenging his authority.
“So what brings you to this fair town Xvart?” Two distrusting eyes looked down upon him.
The man didn’t look like an officer, but Yolta could not yet decide if they new each other, so he responded as diplomatic as he could. “It seemed like a beautiful village from afar, I had hoped to have a nice meal and a safe night of sleep. Perhaps do a little shopping tomorrow.” This was no lie, though he doubted anybody here would have a ring of suggestion.
Out of sight of the four men, a dark figure sneaked in through the gate and sneaked into the local inn.
“Of course, sir, will I come with you; if only to prove my harmlessness.” About to follow the sergeant, he noticed a person approaching them with great speed.
Two scimitars, fine magical weapons by the looks of it, blocked the line of communication between him and the sergeant; as the man positioned himself between them. Yolta wondered how the sergeant would respond about this new man challenging his authority.
“So what brings you to this fair town Xvart?” Two distrusting eyes looked down upon him.
The man didn’t look like an officer, but Yolta could not yet decide if they new each other, so he responded as diplomatic as he could. “It seemed like a beautiful village from afar, I had hoped to have a nice meal and a safe night of sleep. Perhaps do a little shopping tomorrow.” This was no lie, though he doubted anybody here would have a ring of suggestion.
Out of sight of the four men, a dark figure sneaked in through the gate and sneaked into the local inn.
Guinness is good for you.
Gives you strength.
Gives you strength.
The group travelled only as long as the day light remained, knowing that to travel in the desert surrounding Calim****e would be be foolish, in that the temperature would drop dangerously low, and that there were all manners of creatures in the desert, not to forget any wandering bands of theives. They had step up camp by a small rocky outcropping, the smooth stone surface providing enough shelter from any winds that may happen to flare up during the night, and as a defensible spot if the need arose.
Virrilis, Ferchen and Rail sat around the fire, the now familar pipe dangling from the corner of the assassin's mouth, his artifical hand resting on his knee, the other propping himself up. Virrilis sat cross legged, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands pressed together by his face, his gaze locked intently on the fire. Ferchen sat near to Virrilis, partially concerned for the Bladesinger, but also concerned about the proximity of Sethin. None of the three trusted the clone. They had pursued him into the desert in order to kill him, and now they travelled with him. She glanced off to the side of the camp. Sethin sat atop one of the rocks, his leg and hair draped over the edge and hanging lightly. He seemed to be fixated on the unending darkness of the desert, as if something were to reveal itself. She didn't care he sat in solitude. She prefered it, in truth. As a discple of Mieliekki, and Ranger, she was determined to protect people from the dangers of the wild, and the threats posed from abnormalities of nature. Sethin certainly fit into both.
She turned her gaze back to the fire, and gave a quick look to Rail. He was watching both her and Virrilis with interest, as he so often did, his intentions always masked behind the stoic expression he seemed to wear so often. Even though they hadn't stopped long before hand, the camp was uncomfortably silent, no one saying what was on their minds. She turned to Virrilis, and lightly touched his arm. As she was about to say something, anything to break the silence, the Bladesinger surprised her.
"Sethin and I are linked..." He said calmly, his gaze unwaivering from the fire. Rail lowered his pipe, something of interest having been said, the assassin having long since learned the usefullness of information. Ferchen let her hand linger along Virrilis' arm for a moment longer. "Lazal created him from within me, using everything I despised within me."
He turned his gaze upwards slightly from the fire, the shadows dancing eeirly along the Bladesinger's face. "In essence, he is no different then I was when you knew me as Virdel. He embodies the malice, the greed, and the egotism that I displayed while masquerading." Virrilis shook his head lightly, and Ferchen slid closer to him. "I have been giving it great thought, of late. Trying to determine how Lazal created such a mirror image of myself, and I beleive it was because of my time spent as Virdel. Those thoughts, emotions, we're close enough to the surface, that the Demon was able to exploit them."
"Typical of magicians and their ilk..." Rail interjected pointedly, his dislike of the art showing through the stoic exterior. The other two by the fire glanced at him, Ferchen shrugging in response, Virrilis saying nothing. "They take your weakness, and they exploit it. Though he was my friend, I am sure Magus had done the same to many who worked for him, and even with him. Sorcery, is quite often, merely the art of misdirection. Lead your enemy or target to believe one thing, while you plan something different. There is not consistency to it, which makes it such a dangerous ability, and one that should be monitored more closely..."
Ferchen was about to say something, again, but Virrilis stepped in too quickly. "I have often wondered of your relationship with the Arch Magi. Your thoughts of magic have always been worn upon your sleeve, even if others had not noticed." As if in response to Ferchen's proximity, his hand listed casually over to hers, giving it a bref squeeze, as if trying to reassure about something. "You clearly have no affinity to the arcane, and yet you called Magus your friend-"
"Ally." Rail interjected quickly.
"What you will," Virrilis added afterwords. "never-the-less, you did not kill the man, as you have surely done countless times before. Why was this man different?"
Rail looked towards the elf, and then the fire. After a moment of silence, he took a long draw from the pipe he was still holding. "My reasons are, and always have been, my own, Bladesinger." He looked back towards Virrilis. "Ask yourself why I have not driven my blade into your back? You are one of the few in these lands that have mastered both blade and sorcery, and yet I have not made any move to kill you. Perhaps you will come to the answer you seek." After finishing the words, Rail took one last draw from the pipe, before turning it upside down over the fire, dumping the remaining contents into the blaze. The then stood from the warmth of the fire, and walked off to where he had earlier pitched his tent.
Virrilis and Ferchen watched as the assassin left, both sitting in a silence brought on by questions.
On the rocky outcropping, Sethin heard every word, a small grin finding it's way to his lips. Virrilis understood quickly. In his palm, the etchings on the Nether stone seemed to glow will a dull green light. He palmed it quickly, as to not attract any unwanted attention to it. He slipped it back into the pouch it usually was stowed away in. It had been only a few hours of travelling, but he already saw the rising tension of his presence. It would be an interesting trip to the Netheril Deserts. A very interesting one...
Virrilis, Ferchen and Rail sat around the fire, the now familar pipe dangling from the corner of the assassin's mouth, his artifical hand resting on his knee, the other propping himself up. Virrilis sat cross legged, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands pressed together by his face, his gaze locked intently on the fire. Ferchen sat near to Virrilis, partially concerned for the Bladesinger, but also concerned about the proximity of Sethin. None of the three trusted the clone. They had pursued him into the desert in order to kill him, and now they travelled with him. She glanced off to the side of the camp. Sethin sat atop one of the rocks, his leg and hair draped over the edge and hanging lightly. He seemed to be fixated on the unending darkness of the desert, as if something were to reveal itself. She didn't care he sat in solitude. She prefered it, in truth. As a discple of Mieliekki, and Ranger, she was determined to protect people from the dangers of the wild, and the threats posed from abnormalities of nature. Sethin certainly fit into both.
She turned her gaze back to the fire, and gave a quick look to Rail. He was watching both her and Virrilis with interest, as he so often did, his intentions always masked behind the stoic expression he seemed to wear so often. Even though they hadn't stopped long before hand, the camp was uncomfortably silent, no one saying what was on their minds. She turned to Virrilis, and lightly touched his arm. As she was about to say something, anything to break the silence, the Bladesinger surprised her.
"Sethin and I are linked..." He said calmly, his gaze unwaivering from the fire. Rail lowered his pipe, something of interest having been said, the assassin having long since learned the usefullness of information. Ferchen let her hand linger along Virrilis' arm for a moment longer. "Lazal created him from within me, using everything I despised within me."
He turned his gaze upwards slightly from the fire, the shadows dancing eeirly along the Bladesinger's face. "In essence, he is no different then I was when you knew me as Virdel. He embodies the malice, the greed, and the egotism that I displayed while masquerading." Virrilis shook his head lightly, and Ferchen slid closer to him. "I have been giving it great thought, of late. Trying to determine how Lazal created such a mirror image of myself, and I beleive it was because of my time spent as Virdel. Those thoughts, emotions, we're close enough to the surface, that the Demon was able to exploit them."
"Typical of magicians and their ilk..." Rail interjected pointedly, his dislike of the art showing through the stoic exterior. The other two by the fire glanced at him, Ferchen shrugging in response, Virrilis saying nothing. "They take your weakness, and they exploit it. Though he was my friend, I am sure Magus had done the same to many who worked for him, and even with him. Sorcery, is quite often, merely the art of misdirection. Lead your enemy or target to believe one thing, while you plan something different. There is not consistency to it, which makes it such a dangerous ability, and one that should be monitored more closely..."
Ferchen was about to say something, again, but Virrilis stepped in too quickly. "I have often wondered of your relationship with the Arch Magi. Your thoughts of magic have always been worn upon your sleeve, even if others had not noticed." As if in response to Ferchen's proximity, his hand listed casually over to hers, giving it a bref squeeze, as if trying to reassure about something. "You clearly have no affinity to the arcane, and yet you called Magus your friend-"
"Ally." Rail interjected quickly.
"What you will," Virrilis added afterwords. "never-the-less, you did not kill the man, as you have surely done countless times before. Why was this man different?"
Rail looked towards the elf, and then the fire. After a moment of silence, he took a long draw from the pipe he was still holding. "My reasons are, and always have been, my own, Bladesinger." He looked back towards Virrilis. "Ask yourself why I have not driven my blade into your back? You are one of the few in these lands that have mastered both blade and sorcery, and yet I have not made any move to kill you. Perhaps you will come to the answer you seek." After finishing the words, Rail took one last draw from the pipe, before turning it upside down over the fire, dumping the remaining contents into the blaze. The then stood from the warmth of the fire, and walked off to where he had earlier pitched his tent.
Virrilis and Ferchen watched as the assassin left, both sitting in a silence brought on by questions.
On the rocky outcropping, Sethin heard every word, a small grin finding it's way to his lips. Virrilis understood quickly. In his palm, the etchings on the Nether stone seemed to glow will a dull green light. He palmed it quickly, as to not attract any unwanted attention to it. He slipped it back into the pouch it usually was stowed away in. It had been only a few hours of travelling, but he already saw the rising tension of his presence. It would be an interesting trip to the Netheril Deserts. A very interesting one...
Waking up after a quite night, well as quiet as could be after the incident with that creature, near the break of dawn, Xandax got out of bed.
He put on his armour – it was not exactly comfortable to constantly be wearing, but it was second nature to him now, so he hardly realised it – and decided to go down and get some food before exploring this town. He put on his dusty robe and wrapped Ferox in some rags. "It is proberly best to keep a low profile" Xandax thought to himself.
Taking the wrapped sword and his shield in his hand, Xandax walked down the stairs and sat down at one of the tables with his back against the wall.
The barkeep came up to him; it was the same women as before. Xandax ordered some food, which soon afterwards served to him. He paid the barkeep and started eating.
He put on his armour – it was not exactly comfortable to constantly be wearing, but it was second nature to him now, so he hardly realised it – and decided to go down and get some food before exploring this town. He put on his dusty robe and wrapped Ferox in some rags. "It is proberly best to keep a low profile" Xandax thought to himself.
Taking the wrapped sword and his shield in his hand, Xandax walked down the stairs and sat down at one of the tables with his back against the wall.
The barkeep came up to him; it was the same women as before. Xandax ordered some food, which soon afterwards served to him. He paid the barkeep and started eating.
Insert signature here.
“Excuse me, but I believe I can handle an xvart without the meddling of some pompous freesword.” The sergeant glared at Talwar menacingly, unimpressed by his reputation. Without hesitation, he pushed Talwar aside and stood in front of the xvart. “Move.” He motioned with his greatsword in the direction of the town jail.
Before Talwar could react, Geldyn caught his gaze, his friend’s eyes imploring him to let it go and back off.
* * * * *
The barkeep looked up as a hunched man covered by a dirty rag of a cloak entered the Inn. She saw a flash of scaly skin as the man moved. Her eyes widened in disgust and fright. “Out! Away with you, filthy leper!” She grabbed a broom and took a step forward, waving it in front of her. “Go! Or I’ll call the guard!”
“What’s all this commotion?”
Gidim glanced over to see a pretty young elven lady in clean white robes standing by the staircase. A finely-crafted elven holy symbol hung from her neck, shining golden in the dull tavern light. She yawned, and noticing his gaze, smiled. She walked over to them, her movements simple but graceful, and looked at the barkeep shaking her broom at the hunched old man. “Is that any way to treat your customers?” she asked, lightly chiding. She moved towards the old man.
“Stay away from him! He’s a leper!” the barkeep warned her.
Aerie shook her head, a small smile on her face. “My faith will protect me.” She kneeled down, bringing her eyes level with his. “My name is Aerie. What is yours?” She smiled gently, her blue-grey eyes friendly and inviting, though a bit tired perhaps.
Before Talwar could react, Geldyn caught his gaze, his friend’s eyes imploring him to let it go and back off.
* * * * *
The barkeep looked up as a hunched man covered by a dirty rag of a cloak entered the Inn. She saw a flash of scaly skin as the man moved. Her eyes widened in disgust and fright. “Out! Away with you, filthy leper!” She grabbed a broom and took a step forward, waving it in front of her. “Go! Or I’ll call the guard!”
“What’s all this commotion?”
Gidim glanced over to see a pretty young elven lady in clean white robes standing by the staircase. A finely-crafted elven holy symbol hung from her neck, shining golden in the dull tavern light. She yawned, and noticing his gaze, smiled. She walked over to them, her movements simple but graceful, and looked at the barkeep shaking her broom at the hunched old man. “Is that any way to treat your customers?” she asked, lightly chiding. She moved towards the old man.
“Stay away from him! He’s a leper!” the barkeep warned her.
Aerie shook her head, a small smile on her face. “My faith will protect me.” She kneeled down, bringing her eyes level with his. “My name is Aerie. What is yours?” She smiled gently, her blue-grey eyes friendly and inviting, though a bit tired perhaps.
Lost Souls: A bereft lover. A masterless familiar. Friends gone their separate ways. Time marches on, and destiny heralds the meeting of comrades old and new. Can they find what they're seeking? Or will the search bring them only more pain?
Xandax was sitting eating when the figure entered the bar. The barkeep tried to get the person out. Some elf woman came down from the top stairs and went to help the person, while the barkeep mentioned he was a leper.
Xandax continued to eat his food.
“My name is Aerie. What is yours?” the elf asked the person.
Xandax stopped eating, and looked closer. He knew that name. Xandax thought to himself.
“Wasn’t she with …… and that creature ….. Magus”. Xandax looked around.
Xandax leaned back in his chair and observed closer, wondering what they where doing in this forsaken place and where Magus was, they were usually close to him.
Xandax continued to eat his food.
“My name is Aerie. What is yours?” the elf asked the person.
Xandax stopped eating, and looked closer. He knew that name. Xandax thought to himself.
“Wasn’t she with …… and that creature ….. Magus”. Xandax looked around.
Xandax leaned back in his chair and observed closer, wondering what they where doing in this forsaken place and where Magus was, they were usually close to him.
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Rob-hin
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- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: In the Batcave with catwoman. *prrrr*
- Contact:
Walking slowly towards the jail Yolta leaned heavily on his staff, shuffling step by slow step, making sure the sergeant noticed his low physical abilities. “Faster.” The point of a sword pocked into his back. “I am an old man and can’t walk that fast.” Yolta responded, truth being he irritated even himself with this slow pass.
Arriving at the jail the sergeant opened the door for him and while stepping inside, Yolta observed his night resting place. It was simple to say the least, a chair and a desk, a weapon rack closed with a firm lock and a small jail cage containing a wooden board which served as a bed. The place looked like it didn’t have guests on a regular basis. The door to the jail cage was open and Yolta was directed inside immediately.
Since he didn’t carry any weapons, Yolta assumed he didn’t have to give of his few possessions; besides who would rob an old man… xvart, of his walking stick? He hopped onto the bed and made himself comfortable.
Yolta closed his eyes and intended to sleep till morning and see what happens then.
Arriving at the jail the sergeant opened the door for him and while stepping inside, Yolta observed his night resting place. It was simple to say the least, a chair and a desk, a weapon rack closed with a firm lock and a small jail cage containing a wooden board which served as a bed. The place looked like it didn’t have guests on a regular basis. The door to the jail cage was open and Yolta was directed inside immediately.
Since he didn’t carry any weapons, Yolta assumed he didn’t have to give of his few possessions; besides who would rob an old man… xvart, of his walking stick? He hopped onto the bed and made himself comfortable.
Yolta closed his eyes and intended to sleep till morning and see what happens then.
Guinness is good for you.
Gives you strength.
Gives you strength.
Dawn had broken, and the it wasn't long before the sun was bearing down on the group. They hadn't stayed in the camp for long, packing up, and moving out again swiftly. It was more than a desire to get as far from Pasha Trium as possible, but there was something else unsettling to them, something closer. Unlike the previous portian of the travel, Sethin was in the lead, alone. Virrilis had sunk into the back, behind Rail and Ferchen, a dark look etched onto his once placid exterior. The most Rail and Ferchen could figure, was that the presence of Sethin set the Bladesinger off. The clone being there was concerning more then just Virrilis. Rarely did Rail take his calculating eyes of the dangerous clone, the glint of death often appearing within them. Rail had as much desire to see Sethin dead as Virrilis did.
It was at times such as these, Ferchen often found herself wondering about her actual role in the trio following the clone. She had not directly met Sethin, until Virrilis showed up the previous night with him in tow, insisting that they leave immediatly. She failed to see the true danger of Sethin, knowing only that the clone had almost bested Virrilis, as well as Rail, in combat, and that he was the spawn of the demon Lazal. But, he was also a part of Virrilis. Could he truely be so much of a reverse image of the Bladesinger that he couldn't be trusted? Even when Virrilis had masqueraded as a Drow in the city of Coin, it was only convincing the point of him being one of the evil race, but his natural charisma allowed people to see enough of the true elf, to not call him an enemy on sight. She pushed a loose strand of her hair back from her eyes, and looked towards Sethin, who sat atop the camel, looking forward with a determination wrought from survival. After a moment, she glanced back towards Virrilis. He, too, was looking towards the clone, but his was a look of hatred and contempt, a look almost unknown to the Bladesinger's comrades. She turned away quickly, the look of Virrilis was too much right now.
*****
Though Sethin's eyes never left the Northern route from the Calimshan desert, he idley rubbed the Nethril artifact with his gloved hand, each passing of his thumb leaving a trail of green light, and a brighter tracing of the markings. He felt the power of the artifact. It was what had attracted him to taking the stone from Pasha Trium in the first place. A c0cky smirk ethced itself onto his face thinking of how easily the Pasha had been betrayed, and stolen from. No matter, he thought to himself. Something was telling him that taking the artifact was far from a trival task, and that Trium wouldn't easily stop searching for them He ran his thumb over the stone again, leaving a brighter trail, and brighter markings.
It was at times such as these, Ferchen often found herself wondering about her actual role in the trio following the clone. She had not directly met Sethin, until Virrilis showed up the previous night with him in tow, insisting that they leave immediatly. She failed to see the true danger of Sethin, knowing only that the clone had almost bested Virrilis, as well as Rail, in combat, and that he was the spawn of the demon Lazal. But, he was also a part of Virrilis. Could he truely be so much of a reverse image of the Bladesinger that he couldn't be trusted? Even when Virrilis had masqueraded as a Drow in the city of Coin, it was only convincing the point of him being one of the evil race, but his natural charisma allowed people to see enough of the true elf, to not call him an enemy on sight. She pushed a loose strand of her hair back from her eyes, and looked towards Sethin, who sat atop the camel, looking forward with a determination wrought from survival. After a moment, she glanced back towards Virrilis. He, too, was looking towards the clone, but his was a look of hatred and contempt, a look almost unknown to the Bladesinger's comrades. She turned away quickly, the look of Virrilis was too much right now.
*****
Though Sethin's eyes never left the Northern route from the Calimshan desert, he idley rubbed the Nethril artifact with his gloved hand, each passing of his thumb leaving a trail of green light, and a brighter tracing of the markings. He felt the power of the artifact. It was what had attracted him to taking the stone from Pasha Trium in the first place. A c0cky smirk ethced itself onto his face thinking of how easily the Pasha had been betrayed, and stolen from. No matter, he thought to himself. Something was telling him that taking the artifact was far from a trival task, and that Trium wouldn't easily stop searching for them He ran his thumb over the stone again, leaving a brighter trail, and brighter markings.
The Traveler’s inn was a nice place. Clean and well kept, the look of loving care put into every detail. It made Gidim uncomfortable, since he was more accustomed to a cold dirt floor and the disgust people bestowed upon lonely wanderers. Although not feeling like he belonged, he could not deny his curiosity.
“Out! Away with you, filthy leper!”
Gidim turned his head to see the barkeep grab a broom and begin to wave it at him.
“Go! Or I’ll call the guard!”
Although he knew it was best to leave, he feet seemed stuck to the floor.
“What’s all this commotion?” said a soothing voice.
Gidim turned to see a young elven lady standing near the foot of the staircase. Her clean white robes contradicted the tiredness in her eyes.
“FOLLOW HER! She will lead you to him,” rushed through his head.
The elf started towards Gidim, chastising the barkeep for reacting so harshly. She approached Gidim and said, “My name is Aerie. What is yours?”
Dazed for a moment and nearly speechless, trying to organize his thoughts, he stammered, “M…my… my name is…. Gidim…”
He looked away for a second, dazzled by this young elf, and saw a man across the inn; dusty robes covered what were obviously some armor, and a sword of interest. He was most likely a warrior, definitely someone not to be trifled with.
The wooden figurine against his chest began to get warm. Without even thinking he started whispering to himself, so softly that his breathing almost drowned out the words.
Almost from out of nowhere he felt his spirits lift. Gidim straightened out his back the best he could and took a deep breath.
“My name is Gidim and I am a lonely traveler of these parts. I only wish for a little warmth and food to calm these tired bones,” he smiled at Aerie. “Some of us have had more than our fair share of communing with nature,” he intoned, turning to stare at the barkeep.
Aerie chuckled, her smile widening.
“Out! Away with you, filthy leper!”
Gidim turned his head to see the barkeep grab a broom and begin to wave it at him.
“Go! Or I’ll call the guard!”
Although he knew it was best to leave, he feet seemed stuck to the floor.
“What’s all this commotion?” said a soothing voice.
Gidim turned to see a young elven lady standing near the foot of the staircase. Her clean white robes contradicted the tiredness in her eyes.
“FOLLOW HER! She will lead you to him,” rushed through his head.
The elf started towards Gidim, chastising the barkeep for reacting so harshly. She approached Gidim and said, “My name is Aerie. What is yours?”
Dazed for a moment and nearly speechless, trying to organize his thoughts, he stammered, “M…my… my name is…. Gidim…”
He looked away for a second, dazzled by this young elf, and saw a man across the inn; dusty robes covered what were obviously some armor, and a sword of interest. He was most likely a warrior, definitely someone not to be trifled with.
The wooden figurine against his chest began to get warm. Without even thinking he started whispering to himself, so softly that his breathing almost drowned out the words.
Almost from out of nowhere he felt his spirits lift. Gidim straightened out his back the best he could and took a deep breath.
“My name is Gidim and I am a lonely traveler of these parts. I only wish for a little warmth and food to calm these tired bones,” he smiled at Aerie. “Some of us have had more than our fair share of communing with nature,” he intoned, turning to stare at the barkeep.
Aerie chuckled, her smile widening.
Lost Souls - The Search for Magus
“Not so fast, xvart.” The militia sergeant reached out and casually wrenched the ruby-topped staff from Yolta’s hand before he could think to resist. “I’ll be taking this. No doubt it’s stolen.” He then quickly and efficiently patted Yolta down for weapons. He was a bit surprised to find a small little book tucked in Yolta’s robes. He opened it, looking blankly at the odd little symbols written on all the pages. Back in his mercenary days, he’d seen a few magic-using comrades of his poring over books like this. Could it be that this little goblin knew magic? He looked skeptically at the wrinkled xvart in front of him. Yeah, right. He shook his head at the ridiculous notion and tossed the book aside.
Having found no weapons, the sergeant locked the cell door and proceeded to lock the staff in a large wooden chest nearby; apparently it was where the guard kept confiscated items. The chest was sturdy enough, though Yolta didn’t sense any magic about it. His irksome task finally accomplished, the sergeant left, presumably returning to his station at the gate.
Looking about, Yolta noticed a small barred window high up on the wall. The torches on the wall were the only illumination at the moment, but come dawn he could expect a little extra light.
He closed his eyes and tried to rest…but tired as he was, sleep wouldn’t come. An hour or so passed, the time seeming to drag on endlessly. The light of dawn was beginning to seep through the window when he suddenly got the feeling he wasn’t alone. He opened his eyes to find two disembodied ruby eyes staring down at him. He recognized the creature immediately. A hakeashar. Surprised as he was, it took a moment longer than it should have to make the connection. A hakeashar!
…
-Well, well. It seems the hungry snake has come upon a trapped little rat.-
The shadowy creature’s eyes flared—whether in menace or anticipation, Yolta couldn’t tell.
* * * * *
Aerie chuckled, her smile widening. At least someone around here wasn’t all gruff and grouchy.
“Well Gidim,” Aerie began. “If you’re sick, maybe I can be of help. I happen to be a cleric of some power. I usually charge quite a bit for my services, but I might be able to make an exception this once. What do you say?”
The barkeep rolled her eyes and began sweeping the floor, keeping her eyes on the two.
Having found no weapons, the sergeant locked the cell door and proceeded to lock the staff in a large wooden chest nearby; apparently it was where the guard kept confiscated items. The chest was sturdy enough, though Yolta didn’t sense any magic about it. His irksome task finally accomplished, the sergeant left, presumably returning to his station at the gate.
Looking about, Yolta noticed a small barred window high up on the wall. The torches on the wall were the only illumination at the moment, but come dawn he could expect a little extra light.
He closed his eyes and tried to rest…but tired as he was, sleep wouldn’t come. An hour or so passed, the time seeming to drag on endlessly. The light of dawn was beginning to seep through the window when he suddenly got the feeling he wasn’t alone. He opened his eyes to find two disembodied ruby eyes staring down at him. He recognized the creature immediately. A hakeashar. Surprised as he was, it took a moment longer than it should have to make the connection. A hakeashar!
…
-Well, well. It seems the hungry snake has come upon a trapped little rat.-
The shadowy creature’s eyes flared—whether in menace or anticipation, Yolta couldn’t tell.
* * * * *
Aerie chuckled, her smile widening. At least someone around here wasn’t all gruff and grouchy.
“Well Gidim,” Aerie began. “If you’re sick, maybe I can be of help. I happen to be a cleric of some power. I usually charge quite a bit for my services, but I might be able to make an exception this once. What do you say?”
The barkeep rolled her eyes and began sweeping the floor, keeping her eyes on the two.
Lost Souls: A bereft lover. A masterless familiar. Friends gone their separate ways. Time marches on, and destiny heralds the meeting of comrades old and new. Can they find what they're seeking? Or will the search bring them only more pain?
The journey north of Calimport continued slowly, the sun beating down on the shoulders of the four travellers, and the heat playing subtle mind tricks on them. All knew enough to conserve the water they had managed to bring along, yet everyone's hand occasionally found its way to resting on the stopping in the water skin. Rail carefully adjusted the cloth covering his head with his artificial hand, tightening the draw cord, so it wouldn't jostle around too much. Once down, he looked to the side, where Ferchen had been riding since the begining of the exodus.
"How many days ride did you say it was from the desert?" there was a hint of frustration in his voice, but his stoic nature did much to disguise it.
Ferchen surprised a small grin, knowing full well that the assassin did not appreciate being in the sun, much less the light. "With steady riding, we should reach Tethyn in four more days." She looked ahead, ignoring Rails disbeleiving glint. "But, that would push the camels, and ourselves, very hard. With the exception of you, and the clone, I do not believe we would be able to do it without damaging ourselves." Ferchen looked towards Sethin. She barely knew the clone, outside of what had been told to her, yet she couldn't speak it's name. It didn't seem right for it to have a name. Something such as that did not deserve one, she thought. She lowered her gaze slightly, her thoughts wandering to Virrilis in the back of the group. He had said nothing since they left the camp at dawn. The Bladesinger had, instead, kept his eyes vigilently forward, watching the group, as well as Sethin. Ferchen had seen a definate change in Virrilis since encountering his clone, but she wasn't sure what to make of it just yet.
The minutes passed slowly for them all, each one surpressing the urge to drain their water skins, but each enforcing their own strict discipline. Ferchen glanced off to the side, towards the sand dunes. The same sand dune, it seemed, that she had seen an hour ago, and a day ago. As she was about to look back to the front of the group, her eyes caught a brief flash of something. she snapped her attention up, along with her body, and looked to the dune. It, whatever it was, was moving. She squinted her eyes, and stopped her mount.
"I think I see something..." She angled her mount to face the object on the horizon. She was quickly joined by Rail and Virrilis. Sethin hung back.
"Most likely a mirage, Ranger." Sethin sadi bitterly. The heat was obviously irratating the clone, leaving his tact misplaced at the time. That, and he had no desire to wait around chasing shadows in the middle of a desert day.
"No." Virrilis said quietly, watching the object with interest. "It is definatly something. And it is coming this way..." the Bladesinger's hand dropped to the hilt of his scimitar, and unfastened the leather stop on it's sheath. Rail made a similar movement, trusting the elves eyes over his own.
After a moment of watching the object, Virrilis' eyes widened, and he turned his camel about. "Maraders!" He yelled out. Sethin's attention was now focused on the object coming towards them, and dozen more coming over the crest. Rail urged the camel back, as well as Ferchen, who was now stringing her bow together. Sethin moved back as well, knowing they wouldn't be able to outrun desert maradurs on their home ground. The three men formed a circle around Ferchen, who had now notched an arrow in her bow, and waited for the first to come into sight.
"More of them! To the East!" Rail said suddenly. Virrilis snapped his gaze to the East, only to discover another half dozen coming from the eastern crest.
"Damnit!" Virrilis drew his dagger now, letting the reigns of his camel loose. This was the last thing he wanted to do in the desert.
His thoughts were interupted by the sharp whistling of an arrow zipping past his head into the group, landing in a sand dune. The sound was followed by several more, amongst them Ferchen's bow reprising the attack. Within moments, the first of the Maradurs was among them.
One Maradur came charging in towards Sethin, thinking an easy kill of the, as yet, unarmed elf. Sethin looked back with only a smirk of arrogance. Within a moment, the desert raider knew the folly, as a keen edged katana slid swiftly from it's sheathe, and sank it's tip into the raiders mount, flipping the riding off it, and sending the horse to sprawling the ground, dying. It took only a moment, and Sethin slashed downwards, across the man's back, keeping him down permanently.
Rail was not fond of upfront confrontations, prefering to control the field of battle, but he was no less dangerous to the men coming towards him. his saber drawn, he waited for the raiders to come close. both brandsihed scimitars with jagged edges, obviously with little intention of clean cuts. As the men came in, the charge was met with the sound of steel, and a bright flash of metal as Rails saber quickly parried one blow, and cleanly slit the throat of the other. As he moved his blade back towards the other raider, he heard the sound of another arrow slice through the air, but he also heard another sound. A sickingly soft sound. He risked the glance to his camel, only to confirm his suspician. An arrow was lodged tightly in the beasts neck, and was dying quickly.
Virrilis faced the eastern edge alone, both blades held tightly. He charged the six raiders racing towards him, no intentions of letting them join with their comrades. Riding towards the raiders, he stood himself up on the camel, awkwardly being jostled, but maintaining his balance. He held the scimitar, poised to strike at the first target, and the dagger so that it edged along the inside of his forearm. As he moved, his light silk clothing trailed behind him. Arrows whistled passed him, all flying wide of him, and digging into the sand around him. Within moments, he was to the group. One of the raiders came in from the side, attempting a clean kill of the Bladesinger. His sword found only air. Virrilis kicked himself off the camel, towards another of the raiders, his blades working a deadly arc, catching the raider off gaurd, and tracing a line of blood across his chest. Virrilis' momentum carried through, and the lilthe elf rolled once hitting the ground.
He quickly kicked himself back to his feet, in time to parry an attack from another raider with his dagger. He knew that he wouldn't be able to withstand the attack when they were mounted. With his scimitar, he lashed out, cutting the harness to the raiders saddle, causing it, and the rider, to lose balance, and slide off the side onto the ground. Before the Bladesinger could complete the attack, his attention was forced behind him, to a pair of riders coming. Virrilis kicked back, tiwsting his body around in the process, and lashing out with blades. One met a riders leg, while the other cut across the mounts of torso. The injured rider grunted in pain, and continued to press forward to wrap around. The injured mount stuttered in it's step, and fell to the ground, throwing it's rider to the sand along with it.
Virrilis landed face first in the sand, quickly pushing his body around, and kicking himself up. Just as his head left the sand, another arrow dug itself deeply into the dune, narrowly missing the Bladesinger. There were two riders remaining, the others on the ground, and one of them dead. He had no chance to check on how the others fared. The hurt rider cursed to himself, and tried to notch another arrow. The other rider came charging at the elf, scimitar raised high, ready to end the battle. As the man came charging in, Virrilis crouched low, and waited, his blades ready defensivly. Once within striking distance, the raiders blade came down, and Virrilis' came ip, with the Bladesinger wrapping his blades around the man's arm, locking, and then dragging him from the mount, and loosening the grip of the raiders weapon. Within a second, Virrilis' dagger was returned to his belt, and the other scimitar in hand. He glanced quickly the one with the bow, who was lining up the shot. In an instant, Virrilis released the plain weapon, and sent it head over haft towards the last mounted raider, digging the tip into his chest, and sending the arrow off into the air. Virrilis quickly edged himself into the centre of the four remaining raiders, his blades poised, and the raiders creeping closer to him...
"How many days ride did you say it was from the desert?" there was a hint of frustration in his voice, but his stoic nature did much to disguise it.
Ferchen surprised a small grin, knowing full well that the assassin did not appreciate being in the sun, much less the light. "With steady riding, we should reach Tethyn in four more days." She looked ahead, ignoring Rails disbeleiving glint. "But, that would push the camels, and ourselves, very hard. With the exception of you, and the clone, I do not believe we would be able to do it without damaging ourselves." Ferchen looked towards Sethin. She barely knew the clone, outside of what had been told to her, yet she couldn't speak it's name. It didn't seem right for it to have a name. Something such as that did not deserve one, she thought. She lowered her gaze slightly, her thoughts wandering to Virrilis in the back of the group. He had said nothing since they left the camp at dawn. The Bladesinger had, instead, kept his eyes vigilently forward, watching the group, as well as Sethin. Ferchen had seen a definate change in Virrilis since encountering his clone, but she wasn't sure what to make of it just yet.
The minutes passed slowly for them all, each one surpressing the urge to drain their water skins, but each enforcing their own strict discipline. Ferchen glanced off to the side, towards the sand dunes. The same sand dune, it seemed, that she had seen an hour ago, and a day ago. As she was about to look back to the front of the group, her eyes caught a brief flash of something. she snapped her attention up, along with her body, and looked to the dune. It, whatever it was, was moving. She squinted her eyes, and stopped her mount.
"I think I see something..." She angled her mount to face the object on the horizon. She was quickly joined by Rail and Virrilis. Sethin hung back.
"Most likely a mirage, Ranger." Sethin sadi bitterly. The heat was obviously irratating the clone, leaving his tact misplaced at the time. That, and he had no desire to wait around chasing shadows in the middle of a desert day.
"No." Virrilis said quietly, watching the object with interest. "It is definatly something. And it is coming this way..." the Bladesinger's hand dropped to the hilt of his scimitar, and unfastened the leather stop on it's sheath. Rail made a similar movement, trusting the elves eyes over his own.
After a moment of watching the object, Virrilis' eyes widened, and he turned his camel about. "Maraders!" He yelled out. Sethin's attention was now focused on the object coming towards them, and dozen more coming over the crest. Rail urged the camel back, as well as Ferchen, who was now stringing her bow together. Sethin moved back as well, knowing they wouldn't be able to outrun desert maradurs on their home ground. The three men formed a circle around Ferchen, who had now notched an arrow in her bow, and waited for the first to come into sight.
"More of them! To the East!" Rail said suddenly. Virrilis snapped his gaze to the East, only to discover another half dozen coming from the eastern crest.
"Damnit!" Virrilis drew his dagger now, letting the reigns of his camel loose. This was the last thing he wanted to do in the desert.
His thoughts were interupted by the sharp whistling of an arrow zipping past his head into the group, landing in a sand dune. The sound was followed by several more, amongst them Ferchen's bow reprising the attack. Within moments, the first of the Maradurs was among them.
One Maradur came charging in towards Sethin, thinking an easy kill of the, as yet, unarmed elf. Sethin looked back with only a smirk of arrogance. Within a moment, the desert raider knew the folly, as a keen edged katana slid swiftly from it's sheathe, and sank it's tip into the raiders mount, flipping the riding off it, and sending the horse to sprawling the ground, dying. It took only a moment, and Sethin slashed downwards, across the man's back, keeping him down permanently.
Rail was not fond of upfront confrontations, prefering to control the field of battle, but he was no less dangerous to the men coming towards him. his saber drawn, he waited for the raiders to come close. both brandsihed scimitars with jagged edges, obviously with little intention of clean cuts. As the men came in, the charge was met with the sound of steel, and a bright flash of metal as Rails saber quickly parried one blow, and cleanly slit the throat of the other. As he moved his blade back towards the other raider, he heard the sound of another arrow slice through the air, but he also heard another sound. A sickingly soft sound. He risked the glance to his camel, only to confirm his suspician. An arrow was lodged tightly in the beasts neck, and was dying quickly.
Virrilis faced the eastern edge alone, both blades held tightly. He charged the six raiders racing towards him, no intentions of letting them join with their comrades. Riding towards the raiders, he stood himself up on the camel, awkwardly being jostled, but maintaining his balance. He held the scimitar, poised to strike at the first target, and the dagger so that it edged along the inside of his forearm. As he moved, his light silk clothing trailed behind him. Arrows whistled passed him, all flying wide of him, and digging into the sand around him. Within moments, he was to the group. One of the raiders came in from the side, attempting a clean kill of the Bladesinger. His sword found only air. Virrilis kicked himself off the camel, towards another of the raiders, his blades working a deadly arc, catching the raider off gaurd, and tracing a line of blood across his chest. Virrilis' momentum carried through, and the lilthe elf rolled once hitting the ground.
He quickly kicked himself back to his feet, in time to parry an attack from another raider with his dagger. He knew that he wouldn't be able to withstand the attack when they were mounted. With his scimitar, he lashed out, cutting the harness to the raiders saddle, causing it, and the rider, to lose balance, and slide off the side onto the ground. Before the Bladesinger could complete the attack, his attention was forced behind him, to a pair of riders coming. Virrilis kicked back, tiwsting his body around in the process, and lashing out with blades. One met a riders leg, while the other cut across the mounts of torso. The injured rider grunted in pain, and continued to press forward to wrap around. The injured mount stuttered in it's step, and fell to the ground, throwing it's rider to the sand along with it.
Virrilis landed face first in the sand, quickly pushing his body around, and kicking himself up. Just as his head left the sand, another arrow dug itself deeply into the dune, narrowly missing the Bladesinger. There were two riders remaining, the others on the ground, and one of them dead. He had no chance to check on how the others fared. The hurt rider cursed to himself, and tried to notch another arrow. The other rider came charging at the elf, scimitar raised high, ready to end the battle. As the man came charging in, Virrilis crouched low, and waited, his blades ready defensivly. Once within striking distance, the raiders blade came down, and Virrilis' came ip, with the Bladesinger wrapping his blades around the man's arm, locking, and then dragging him from the mount, and loosening the grip of the raiders weapon. Within a second, Virrilis' dagger was returned to his belt, and the other scimitar in hand. He glanced quickly the one with the bow, who was lining up the shot. In an instant, Virrilis released the plain weapon, and sent it head over haft towards the last mounted raider, digging the tip into his chest, and sending the arrow off into the air. Virrilis quickly edged himself into the centre of the four remaining raiders, his blades poised, and the raiders creeping closer to him...
-
Rob-hin
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Within seconds Yolta stood on his feet, not loosing the hakeashar out of his sight.
His mind raced like mad, exploring all possible options available to him. Unfortunately, there were few. Hakeashar are immune to magic aimed directly against them and they can not be hurt with non magic weapons, so what to do?
The creature closed in and Yolta slowly stepped back towards the opposite side of the jail cell, carefully shuffling back step by step. Loosing his balance would prove fatal. With nowhere to go, he felt the iron bars against his back all too soon. Time was definitely not on his side.
The creature hovered towards him, the eyes lighting red in a sea of black mist, only a few feet away. The xvart knew enough of such creatures not to let one near him and suck all his magical strength out of him, every wizard’s nightmare. Time and setting were not favourable to him, and with this concept in mind an idea was born. “Let’s change the odds in my favour, shall we?”
His right hand reached into a pocket on the inside of his outfit, a bag of holding sewed into it, and he pulled out a little pouch. Concentrated, while opening it, he began casting.
“Abicio paries concipio hostis”
Finishing the spell, loudly screaming the words, Yolta tossed a handful ruby dust in the air; it vanished instantly. As soon as the dust disappeared, the air around the the Hakeashar stated materialising. Realising what was happening, it leaped forward trying to escape the trap, it was too slow. His red eyes flew towards the small xvart but suddenly they were gone, a solid wall appeared in front of it.
The creature was trapped in a windowless cell of massive stone, without cracks or windows for the creature to escape through. “Don’t bother trying to go through the wall itself, as you normally can.” Yolta raised his voice so the creature could hear him clearly. “The walls extend into the Ethereal Plane, blocking ethereal travelling!” For some reason, He enjoyed trapping the creature like this. “Your prison will remain in place for some hours, ten or so. Giving me the time I need to prepare your disposal.”
No ordinary Hakeashar could ever escape this trap. It would take a teleportation or astral travel to escape. Destroying this sturdy cell would be even harder, that would require a disintegrate spell, sphere of annihilation spell or a rod of cancellation. And he was pretty sure no hakeashar was capable of these things.
His mind raced like mad, exploring all possible options available to him. Unfortunately, there were few. Hakeashar are immune to magic aimed directly against them and they can not be hurt with non magic weapons, so what to do?
The creature closed in and Yolta slowly stepped back towards the opposite side of the jail cell, carefully shuffling back step by step. Loosing his balance would prove fatal. With nowhere to go, he felt the iron bars against his back all too soon. Time was definitely not on his side.
The creature hovered towards him, the eyes lighting red in a sea of black mist, only a few feet away. The xvart knew enough of such creatures not to let one near him and suck all his magical strength out of him, every wizard’s nightmare. Time and setting were not favourable to him, and with this concept in mind an idea was born. “Let’s change the odds in my favour, shall we?”
His right hand reached into a pocket on the inside of his outfit, a bag of holding sewed into it, and he pulled out a little pouch. Concentrated, while opening it, he began casting.
“Abicio paries concipio hostis”
Finishing the spell, loudly screaming the words, Yolta tossed a handful ruby dust in the air; it vanished instantly. As soon as the dust disappeared, the air around the the Hakeashar stated materialising. Realising what was happening, it leaped forward trying to escape the trap, it was too slow. His red eyes flew towards the small xvart but suddenly they were gone, a solid wall appeared in front of it.
The creature was trapped in a windowless cell of massive stone, without cracks or windows for the creature to escape through. “Don’t bother trying to go through the wall itself, as you normally can.” Yolta raised his voice so the creature could hear him clearly. “The walls extend into the Ethereal Plane, blocking ethereal travelling!” For some reason, He enjoyed trapping the creature like this. “Your prison will remain in place for some hours, ten or so. Giving me the time I need to prepare your disposal.”
No ordinary Hakeashar could ever escape this trap. It would take a teleportation or astral travel to escape. Destroying this sturdy cell would be even harder, that would require a disintegrate spell, sphere of annihilation spell or a rod of cancellation. And he was pretty sure no hakeashar was capable of these things.
Guinness is good for you.
Gives you strength.
Gives you strength.
Ferchen steadied the camel as best she could amongst the scrim. It took her longer to fix her bow upon a target with each arrow loosed, and the raiders were charging in quickly. She stayed near Rail, wanting to ensure she wouldn't be overwhelmed. She readied another arrow, and took aim. Letting it loose, it was quickly followed by a loud clang, and thud, as it dug into the chest of one of the maradur's, past his thin chain mail armour. They were too close now. She hastily placed her bow back onto the camels saddle, and drew out her sword. In the corner of her eye, she saw Rails camel get hit with an arrow, and stumble to the ground, the skilled Assassin rolling off the other side before bing pinned into the sand. Her attention was quickly snapped back, as one of the raiders came charging in, his scimitar raised into the air.
She broguht her sword up to parry the attack. The blades shrieked in protest as the met. The raider quickly angled his blade, running it down the edge of Ferchen's, creating a wave of sparks, slamming it into the hilt of her sword. Ferchen's hand went numb from the impact of the hit, and felt her grip loosen. She released the reigns of her camel, and brought her other hand over to try and steady the blade. As she was locked in the struggle, a flash cought her eye. Risking a glance, she saw one of the Marauders hanging back from the melee, his hands twisting in the air. His face was veiled by a deep purple veil, but she didn't need to see the man's face to release the peril they were in. She kicked back, off her camel and away from the raider, and turned to the group, about to call out a warning. She hit the ground behind the camel, and saw the raider pursuing swiftly. She called out. The others didn't seem to hear her. She called again, before she released what had happened. The wizard had silenced her. She spun quickly to face the oncoming raider, raising her sword again, barely parrying the attack.
She held the blade and attack in check, using both hands to fight the desert marauders strength. She felt the man pressing in strongly, her blade edging closer towards her. Suddenly, she felt a burning pain along her waist. Her mouth let out a silenced cry of agony, as she dropped her blade, turning to see the wizard directing a jet of flame towards her. She gritted her teeth, and attempted to grab at the raider in melee with her, missing, and falling to the ground. The raider was about to finish his attack, if it weren't for the wizards single hand motion stopping him. The raider nodded, and turned towards Rail.
The Assassin seemed to move just as swiftly in the sand as he did on solid ground, her saber parrying attacks to one side, his dagger to the other. He seemed familar wit hdefending against the curved blades, using that knowledge to turn them more effectively, but was finding it difficult to make an opening to attack. Already two of the raiders lay at the ground by his feet, a third one from the initial charge, but three more were still around him, two of which still had mounts. He launched himself to the side, avoiding an incoming attack, twisting his body in the process, her saber whipping around, only to be met by another blade. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead. It was too damned hot, he thought to himself. He kept the saber locked with the scimitar, and whipped his dagger around, slashing at the raiders wrist. A thin stream blood resulted, and the scimitar was dropped. Rail capitlized on the new found opening, and drove the saber home, slaying the raider. He spun quickly His dagger poised in front of him, his saber readied to meet the next attack. The raider came in swiftly, his mount moving past, and his scimitar arced towards Rails chest. The skilled assassin parried the blade away with his dagger, and attempted to strike at the passing raider. Before his blade could meet the raiders flesh, another arrow came whistling past, scraping along Rails forearm. The pain was enough for Rail to pull his hand back, but not enough for him to drop the blade. He whipped his head around to see where the archer was, only to spot the wizard along the outer rim of the melee lower a small bow. Rail recognized the garb instantly. He dived to the side instinctivly, avoiding the continued attack from the two raiders. He hit the ground, rolled, then kicked himself to his feet, pushing himself towards the wizard, a murderous look on his stoic face. The wizard gave him a c0cky grin, the kind that Rail hated the most. The one that Rail knew meant he did not have the upper hand.
A burst of water began to stream from his hands, slamming into Rail with full force, knocking the assassin to his back, and turning the sand around him into a thick mud. The pursing raiders caught up as he hit the ground. Rail looked up as one of them stood over top, with his blade raised. The next thing he felt was a sharp pain below his ribs, then he blacked out.
She broguht her sword up to parry the attack. The blades shrieked in protest as the met. The raider quickly angled his blade, running it down the edge of Ferchen's, creating a wave of sparks, slamming it into the hilt of her sword. Ferchen's hand went numb from the impact of the hit, and felt her grip loosen. She released the reigns of her camel, and brought her other hand over to try and steady the blade. As she was locked in the struggle, a flash cought her eye. Risking a glance, she saw one of the Marauders hanging back from the melee, his hands twisting in the air. His face was veiled by a deep purple veil, but she didn't need to see the man's face to release the peril they were in. She kicked back, off her camel and away from the raider, and turned to the group, about to call out a warning. She hit the ground behind the camel, and saw the raider pursuing swiftly. She called out. The others didn't seem to hear her. She called again, before she released what had happened. The wizard had silenced her. She spun quickly to face the oncoming raider, raising her sword again, barely parrying the attack.
She held the blade and attack in check, using both hands to fight the desert marauders strength. She felt the man pressing in strongly, her blade edging closer towards her. Suddenly, she felt a burning pain along her waist. Her mouth let out a silenced cry of agony, as she dropped her blade, turning to see the wizard directing a jet of flame towards her. She gritted her teeth, and attempted to grab at the raider in melee with her, missing, and falling to the ground. The raider was about to finish his attack, if it weren't for the wizards single hand motion stopping him. The raider nodded, and turned towards Rail.
The Assassin seemed to move just as swiftly in the sand as he did on solid ground, her saber parrying attacks to one side, his dagger to the other. He seemed familar wit hdefending against the curved blades, using that knowledge to turn them more effectively, but was finding it difficult to make an opening to attack. Already two of the raiders lay at the ground by his feet, a third one from the initial charge, but three more were still around him, two of which still had mounts. He launched himself to the side, avoiding an incoming attack, twisting his body in the process, her saber whipping around, only to be met by another blade. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead. It was too damned hot, he thought to himself. He kept the saber locked with the scimitar, and whipped his dagger around, slashing at the raiders wrist. A thin stream blood resulted, and the scimitar was dropped. Rail capitlized on the new found opening, and drove the saber home, slaying the raider. He spun quickly His dagger poised in front of him, his saber readied to meet the next attack. The raider came in swiftly, his mount moving past, and his scimitar arced towards Rails chest. The skilled assassin parried the blade away with his dagger, and attempted to strike at the passing raider. Before his blade could meet the raiders flesh, another arrow came whistling past, scraping along Rails forearm. The pain was enough for Rail to pull his hand back, but not enough for him to drop the blade. He whipped his head around to see where the archer was, only to spot the wizard along the outer rim of the melee lower a small bow. Rail recognized the garb instantly. He dived to the side instinctivly, avoiding the continued attack from the two raiders. He hit the ground, rolled, then kicked himself to his feet, pushing himself towards the wizard, a murderous look on his stoic face. The wizard gave him a c0cky grin, the kind that Rail hated the most. The one that Rail knew meant he did not have the upper hand.
A burst of water began to stream from his hands, slamming into Rail with full force, knocking the assassin to his back, and turning the sand around him into a thick mud. The pursing raiders caught up as he hit the ground. Rail looked up as one of them stood over top, with his blade raised. The next thing he felt was a sharp pain below his ribs, then he blacked out.
Sethin maintained his balance on his mount with incredable ease. controlling the beast was a simple matter to him, allowing him to focus on defending himself from the desert raiders. Three of the marauders circled in close to Sethin, the clone watching them silently, one hand holding onto the leather reigns tightly, the other one holding his katana out to the side. The three charged in at once, each scimitar poised to stirke in a different location. Sethin gave a wry smirk as they closed in. Once within stirking distance, a trio of slender blades cut through the air towards the mounted clone. Before any could connect, though, Sethin slid himself off the side of the camel, a pair of the scimitars soaring harmlessly overhead, the other one meeting only the fine edge of his blade. The blades clashed loudly, but neither seemed to care. As soon as the clones feet hit the ground, he sprung back up, luanching himself over top the camel, still holding the reigns with one hand. As he moved upwards, his katana cut a single vicious arc, cutting easily through both the raiders mount, and the raiders leg. The marauder let out a loud cry, his blade dropping to the ground, along with everything below his one knee. Sethin righted himself in the air, and landed, on a slight angle, back on the camel's back, and thrust his blade out to finish the raider, piercing his chest easily with the keen blade.
Sethin didn't wait to watch the man die. He urged his mount around. As he did so, he heard the distinct sound of arrows whistling through the air. Paying little heed to the pair of arrows embedding themselves into the sand around him, he faced the two marauders who had missed on the first pass. He gave another wry grin, taunting them to try again. The two raiders exchanged a brief look, before nodding, and pulling back slightly. Sethin c0cked his brow slightly at the unusual turn of events, and was about to urge his mount on. He heard another arrow dig itself into the dirt, this one getting a bit closer to him. His eyes followed the two retreating marauders, one of which was nodding off to something to the side of Sethin. The clone glanced in the same direction, only to see both Rail and Ferchen on the ground, both unconscious and defeated, along with several remaining marauders coming in to join the fight against Sethin. He also saw the veiled wizard on the crest.
Seven marauders surrounded Sethin, with the wizard watching casually from the edge of the battle. Sethin stopped his mount, his katana still held firmly, ready to take on them all, and quite confident he could. To the side, he heard his other half still battling, but unsure of how he fared. Sethin and the marauders sat watching each other for several uneasy seconds, before a pair of them slid their scimitars back into their sheathes, only to replace the blades with heavy netting, weighted with large iron orbs, each one glowing with a misty grey colour. This changed the situation slightly, Sethin knew it. Within a moment, he urged his mount around, and charged one of the raiders with the nets, his katana poised to strike as he passed. As if on cue, the raiders charged as well, closing in on the clone, and the two nets were loosed. As one came in, Sethin tilted of to the side of the camel, enough to not become ensared in it, but not enough to avoid it completly. The heavy net mesh hit roughly on the shoulder, almost knocking the clone from the mount, and distracting him enough that the second net came soaring in, on target. Sethin turned to face just as the mesh made contact, wrapping him up tightly, and knocking him from the mount, onto the sand. Two of the marauders grinned, and dismounted, and stood near the fallen clone, ensuring the net was secure, before sending the remaining raiders to deal with the blade singer.
Sethin didn't wait to watch the man die. He urged his mount around. As he did so, he heard the distinct sound of arrows whistling through the air. Paying little heed to the pair of arrows embedding themselves into the sand around him, he faced the two marauders who had missed on the first pass. He gave another wry grin, taunting them to try again. The two raiders exchanged a brief look, before nodding, and pulling back slightly. Sethin c0cked his brow slightly at the unusual turn of events, and was about to urge his mount on. He heard another arrow dig itself into the dirt, this one getting a bit closer to him. His eyes followed the two retreating marauders, one of which was nodding off to something to the side of Sethin. The clone glanced in the same direction, only to see both Rail and Ferchen on the ground, both unconscious and defeated, along with several remaining marauders coming in to join the fight against Sethin. He also saw the veiled wizard on the crest.
Seven marauders surrounded Sethin, with the wizard watching casually from the edge of the battle. Sethin stopped his mount, his katana still held firmly, ready to take on them all, and quite confident he could. To the side, he heard his other half still battling, but unsure of how he fared. Sethin and the marauders sat watching each other for several uneasy seconds, before a pair of them slid their scimitars back into their sheathes, only to replace the blades with heavy netting, weighted with large iron orbs, each one glowing with a misty grey colour. This changed the situation slightly, Sethin knew it. Within a moment, he urged his mount around, and charged one of the raiders with the nets, his katana poised to strike as he passed. As if on cue, the raiders charged as well, closing in on the clone, and the two nets were loosed. As one came in, Sethin tilted of to the side of the camel, enough to not become ensared in it, but not enough to avoid it completly. The heavy net mesh hit roughly on the shoulder, almost knocking the clone from the mount, and distracting him enough that the second net came soaring in, on target. Sethin turned to face just as the mesh made contact, wrapping him up tightly, and knocking him from the mount, onto the sand. Two of the marauders grinned, and dismounted, and stood near the fallen clone, ensuring the net was secure, before sending the remaining raiders to deal with the blade singer.
For a moment there was silence. Yolta grinned, congratulating himself on his quick thinking.
-A clever little mortal, aren’t we? And powerful too. How is it that a goblinoid wields such magic?- The creature seemed taken aback, impressed. Trapped in the magical prison, its communication held no fear, though it was now completely at Yolta’s mercy. It seemed intrigued more than anything else.
“As I tell my students, there’s always an exception to the rule. Judge an opponent by appearances and you’re bound to get burned. You’re not the first who’s learned that lesson the hard way.” Yolta scratched his chin, considering the best way to get rid of the creature.
-Hmm…indeed. Might I know the name of this…unusual xvart?-
Yolta didn’t see any harm in it. A name was a powerful weapon in the hands of some creatures…but a hakeashar wasn’t one of them. And soon it would no longer be a threat. “I am Yolta.” He said it proudly. It wasn’t every day that a wizard humbled a hakeashar, known as the wizard’s bane.
-Humbled?-
Suddenly Yolta sensed a teleportation. Shadows wrapped him from behind before he could react, smothering him. He felt his energy seeping out of him, fast.
-Insolent rat. You are nothing. You are prey. You are dinner.- The impressed, intrigued voice from before was gone, replaced by cold, vicious disdain. It was all an act. All an act.
His strength fading, Yolta reached into his robe. He would only have one chance…
-No, I think not.-
Yolta’s mind suddenly exploded in agony. He felt himself falling. As his vision faded, he saw the eyes glowing red above him, mocking him.
Then all was dark.
-A clever little mortal, aren’t we? And powerful too. How is it that a goblinoid wields such magic?- The creature seemed taken aback, impressed. Trapped in the magical prison, its communication held no fear, though it was now completely at Yolta’s mercy. It seemed intrigued more than anything else.
“As I tell my students, there’s always an exception to the rule. Judge an opponent by appearances and you’re bound to get burned. You’re not the first who’s learned that lesson the hard way.” Yolta scratched his chin, considering the best way to get rid of the creature.
-Hmm…indeed. Might I know the name of this…unusual xvart?-
Yolta didn’t see any harm in it. A name was a powerful weapon in the hands of some creatures…but a hakeashar wasn’t one of them. And soon it would no longer be a threat. “I am Yolta.” He said it proudly. It wasn’t every day that a wizard humbled a hakeashar, known as the wizard’s bane.
-Humbled?-
Suddenly Yolta sensed a teleportation. Shadows wrapped him from behind before he could react, smothering him. He felt his energy seeping out of him, fast.
-Insolent rat. You are nothing. You are prey. You are dinner.- The impressed, intrigued voice from before was gone, replaced by cold, vicious disdain. It was all an act. All an act.
His strength fading, Yolta reached into his robe. He would only have one chance…
-No, I think not.-
Yolta’s mind suddenly exploded in agony. He felt himself falling. As his vision faded, he saw the eyes glowing red above him, mocking him.
Then all was dark.
Lost Souls: A bereft lover. A masterless familiar. Friends gone their separate ways. Time marches on, and destiny heralds the meeting of comrades old and new. Can they find what they're seeking? Or will the search bring them only more pain?
“Well Gidim,” Aerie began. “If you’re sick, maybe I can be of help. I happen to be a cleric of some power. I usually charge quite a bit for my services, but I might be able to make an exception this once. What do you say?”
“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t believe there is anything you can do to cure what ails me,” Gidim spoke, “Though I could use some food and a warm place to rest for a while.”
Although his body resisted the movement with many creaks and groans, Gidim motioned Aerie to follow him to a table in the back. Almost without thought, he walked over the armored man who had caught his attention before.
“May we join you kind sir?”
“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t believe there is anything you can do to cure what ails me,” Gidim spoke, “Though I could use some food and a warm place to rest for a while.”
Although his body resisted the movement with many creaks and groans, Gidim motioned Aerie to follow him to a table in the back. Almost without thought, he walked over the armored man who had caught his attention before.
“May we join you kind sir?”
Lost Souls - The Search for Magus
Cold…he was cold. His head hurt. He opened his eyes. It was dark. He felt the ground on his lips. He was lying face down on the ground. He lifted his head. Ah…so bright! He shielded his eyes with his hand.
Where was he? He looked around. He was underground. The sun shone through a rectangular hole in the wall, blocked by thick metal bars. On the other side more bars trapped him in this little room. That’s right, he remembered being locked in here by a human.
Who…was he? He felt like he should know. His name…yes, it was Yolta. He was a wizard. That’s right, he was a wizard, a fabulous wielder of magic! He reached in his robes and pulled out his spellbook. He looked in awe at all the funny little symbols on the pages. Did he know these? He thought he remembered knowing them. Why didn’t he know them now? Ugh, all this thinking was giving him a headache. Headache…why did his head hurt so much? Glowing red eyes…that creature. What was it called again? A hackeashin? That nasty hackashin showed up, and he had been scared, he remembered that. He’d put it in a nice little box, but it got out and did something to him, and then it was black except now it wasn’t. He looked sadly at his nice little box floating in the air. It should have worked. It was a great plan. The stupid hackacough did something to his head. That was it. Hackancoughs liked magic too, and he was a great wizard, so it probably had sucked away his magic too. Oh well. He just had to read his spellbook again and he would get his spells back, right? Yeah, he just needed to read his spellbook. He opened his spellbook and glared hard at the little symbols. He didn’t feel anything happening. He felt a chill up his spine. What if he couldn’t cast magic anymore? That hackashough did something to him. He knew it had. That’s why he couldn’t think right! The hakeashough must have magicked him!
He looked around frantically. He had to get out of here! He had to find someone who could un-magick him, quick!
* * * * *
Aerie followed her old friend (or would that be new friend…she couldn’t decide) to a table in the back. There in the shadows under the stairs sat a man in armor that she hadn’t spotted until now.
“May we join you kind sir,” she heard Gidim say.
There was something familiar about the way the man sat. The man nodded silently at Gidim, then looked at Aerie. Their eyes met. It couldn’t be!
“Xandax?” She said it softly, unsure of herself at first. But as they locked eyes, her doubts were quelled. He recognized her too. There was his shield, propped next to him. And that wrapped bundle was probably his sword. “I can’t believe we’d meet in a place like this! You left so suddenly, you know, and I never got a chance to thank you for helping my husband and me. How have you been? What are you doing in this small town so far from Athkatla?” She sat down across from him excitedly, intent on hearing everything the stoic warrior would tell her.
Where was he? He looked around. He was underground. The sun shone through a rectangular hole in the wall, blocked by thick metal bars. On the other side more bars trapped him in this little room. That’s right, he remembered being locked in here by a human.
Who…was he? He felt like he should know. His name…yes, it was Yolta. He was a wizard. That’s right, he was a wizard, a fabulous wielder of magic! He reached in his robes and pulled out his spellbook. He looked in awe at all the funny little symbols on the pages. Did he know these? He thought he remembered knowing them. Why didn’t he know them now? Ugh, all this thinking was giving him a headache. Headache…why did his head hurt so much? Glowing red eyes…that creature. What was it called again? A hackeashin? That nasty hackashin showed up, and he had been scared, he remembered that. He’d put it in a nice little box, but it got out and did something to him, and then it was black except now it wasn’t. He looked sadly at his nice little box floating in the air. It should have worked. It was a great plan. The stupid hackacough did something to his head. That was it. Hackancoughs liked magic too, and he was a great wizard, so it probably had sucked away his magic too. Oh well. He just had to read his spellbook again and he would get his spells back, right? Yeah, he just needed to read his spellbook. He opened his spellbook and glared hard at the little symbols. He didn’t feel anything happening. He felt a chill up his spine. What if he couldn’t cast magic anymore? That hackashough did something to him. He knew it had. That’s why he couldn’t think right! The hakeashough must have magicked him!
He looked around frantically. He had to get out of here! He had to find someone who could un-magick him, quick!
* * * * *
Aerie followed her old friend (or would that be new friend…she couldn’t decide) to a table in the back. There in the shadows under the stairs sat a man in armor that she hadn’t spotted until now.
“May we join you kind sir,” she heard Gidim say.
There was something familiar about the way the man sat. The man nodded silently at Gidim, then looked at Aerie. Their eyes met. It couldn’t be!
“Xandax?” She said it softly, unsure of herself at first. But as they locked eyes, her doubts were quelled. He recognized her too. There was his shield, propped next to him. And that wrapped bundle was probably his sword. “I can’t believe we’d meet in a place like this! You left so suddenly, you know, and I never got a chance to thank you for helping my husband and me. How have you been? What are you doing in this small town so far from Athkatla?” She sat down across from him excitedly, intent on hearing everything the stoic warrior would tell her.
Lost Souls: A bereft lover. A masterless familiar. Friends gone their separate ways. Time marches on, and destiny heralds the meeting of comrades old and new. Can they find what they're seeking? Or will the search bring them only more pain?
It was Aerie, then the creature in the night was what he thought.
They sat down at the table, the strange person … human … Xandax wasn’t sure, and Aerie.
“I can’t believe we’d meet in a place like this! You left so suddenly, you know, and I never got a chance to thank you for helping my husband and me. How have you been? What are you doing in this small town so far from Athkatla?” Aerie asked him.
Xandax tilted his head, there was something; he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Aerie seemed herself, but not quite, he could feel it in his bones. Xandax looked around the area. No sign of the wizard, strange – there was something hidden under the surface, Aerie was here … that creature was here.
“There were nothing left for me in Athkatla” Xandax replied emotionless “I had to move on” his mind flashed and a mental image appeared, shortly after it disappeared again. “I’ve just stopped in this … “he glanced around the tavern “…town, to rest up before gathering supplies for crossing the wastes of the desert. I’m going ….” he almost said home “east…” he replied instead “…, and I’ve not been this way before.”
Xandax wasn’t sure Aerie knew of this heritage that haunted him, so best not to disclose too much. He could not remember how much Magus knew … and if Magus had told Aerie.
He knew he had to return to his homelands once more – his fleeing had proved unsuccessful. Since he destroyed his father’s human form, if that could be called human, a shadowed form of his father and numerous of his minions had continued to haunt Xandax. Haunting him in his dreams and occasionally in life as well. He knew that he had to return and try to stop his father once again – this time eternally. He could feel the warmth all the way from Ferox, at the thought of his father.
Xandax had continuously and discreetly observed the strange besides Aerie.
Xandax narrowed his eyes slightly, while looking toward Aerie “Where is Magus?” he asked.
They sat down at the table, the strange person … human … Xandax wasn’t sure, and Aerie.
“I can’t believe we’d meet in a place like this! You left so suddenly, you know, and I never got a chance to thank you for helping my husband and me. How have you been? What are you doing in this small town so far from Athkatla?” Aerie asked him.
Xandax tilted his head, there was something; he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Aerie seemed herself, but not quite, he could feel it in his bones. Xandax looked around the area. No sign of the wizard, strange – there was something hidden under the surface, Aerie was here … that creature was here.
“There were nothing left for me in Athkatla” Xandax replied emotionless “I had to move on” his mind flashed and a mental image appeared, shortly after it disappeared again. “I’ve just stopped in this … “he glanced around the tavern “…town, to rest up before gathering supplies for crossing the wastes of the desert. I’m going ….” he almost said home “east…” he replied instead “…, and I’ve not been this way before.”
Xandax wasn’t sure Aerie knew of this heritage that haunted him, so best not to disclose too much. He could not remember how much Magus knew … and if Magus had told Aerie.
He knew he had to return to his homelands once more – his fleeing had proved unsuccessful. Since he destroyed his father’s human form, if that could be called human, a shadowed form of his father and numerous of his minions had continued to haunt Xandax. Haunting him in his dreams and occasionally in life as well. He knew that he had to return and try to stop his father once again – this time eternally. He could feel the warmth all the way from Ferox, at the thought of his father.
Xandax had continuously and discreetly observed the strange besides Aerie.
Xandax narrowed his eyes slightly, while looking toward Aerie “Where is Magus?” he asked.
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