Bloodstalker listened to the others in mild interest as they began to discuss the best way to proceed.Rather than joining the conversation, he took the time to prepare himself, checking over his armor and weapons, going through the simple mechanical motions with the precision that came from years of practice. The mundane nature of the tasks helped to clear his mind a little, alowing him time to bring himself into focus, to clear himself of the distractions that were abundant in these caverns. After a few moments, even the unfogiving drum of the Abominations presense seemed to lessen.
This was what he could understand. The process of getting ready for battle, of bringing his body into tune with his mind. Discussions of strategy within a group of individuals was foriegn to his way thinking. For years he had traveled and lived alone for the most part. In all that time, he had depended on himself alone. There were no comrades to co-ordinate with, no friends to cause him to adapt his style of fighting. There had been no one. As a result, any battles he had had to wage were of the sudden and brutal fashion. His realm was instinctual, simple reactions drilled into his subconscience reflexes to the point that he seldom even had to think of a move before he was executing it. Effective in his former existance, but here, in the midst of a unified group, he saw the limitations of those insticts. They accounted only for himself. No consideration was given to the strenghths or weaknesses of others. Here, each person was directly and ultimatly responsible for their companions. A moment of unbridled rage which in his past could have carried him through a superior opponenet, here was only likely to result in the injury or death of someone he was fighting alongside.
That thought sobered him. He wasn't just allowing himself to depend on others, he was also allowing them to depend on him.Their lives would be in his hands as much as his would be in theirs. A moment of panic gripped him, a burning sense of loss threatening to overwhelm him. He shook it off, forcing himself to settle back into a calm. Whatever was there in his mind, whatever memory he had buried, would wait for another day. There was too much at stake now to allow himself to become pre-occupied. Too many things had changed for him in the past few days. Just a few weeks ago, in this same situation, he knew that he would have sliped of on his own to hunt down the Abomination in it's lair to either kill or be killed. It wasn't bravery, nor follishness, just the fact that he wouldn't have cared one way or the other. Death would have served him in either instance. The Abomination would have been dead and he would have had one less obsticle in his path, or he would have been dead and none of it would have mattered.
Now was different. To undertake such a course would have brought danger to his companions, causing a battle to be joined before they were prepared. He couldn't risk that. He recalled the open way he had been greeted, the way he had connected with Aegis and Mysteria, fighting alongside them when the elven ranger had been pursued by the Drow. The way the had stood by him in turn when the demon had appeared. He remembered the fire that burned in Nippy's eyes when they had fought the dragon, the paladins thirst for battle matching his own, the kindness Farscape had shown him by offering his cloak in the stable.
He reached into his pocket for his flask, and silently grinned as his hand came back empty. He shook his head as the image of a certain Druid thief's gagging expression if she ever found out exactly what was in his own special brew. He figured it might be safer for her, as well as for him, if she never found out.
He looked over the rest of the group, Gwally, Ysh, DW and the others. He felt a pang of regret at the absence of Vivien. He hadn't gotten to know her, and felt that loss for a moment. He decided to make sure that he would aquaint himself with the rest when this was over. He hadn't had many opportunities to be a part of anything, and the realization that Viv's departure meant he would not have a chance to get to know her bothered him. She had been such a stark contrast to his image of evil magic users. He wouldn't waste the opportunity with the rest.
Slipping his dagger back into it's sheth on his bracer, BS found the he had reached an epiphany of sorts. He still didn't think much of his own potential death, still found himself not really concerned with his wn well being. But he did care about the people around him. He cared, and he felt a sense of responsibilty, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure he didn't cause any pain to his friends. He'd let them plan, and when they were done, he'd go where he was needed. The thought brought a warm sense of comfort to him as he listend to the voices droning.
The Order of the Dark Flame: Book 5. (story, no spam)
-
Bloodstalker
- Posts: 15512
- Joined: Wed Apr 18, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Hell if I know
- Contact:
Scayde turned to the man addressing her. She took a step in his direction, extending her hand in greeting. I am Scayde. I don’t think we have met yet. I noticed you before. She caught a glimpse of the young man who had been standing with him, the rage in his eyes frightened her, and she quickly looked away.
Scayde was a little shocked when instead of the handshake she was expecting, he raised her hand and kissed it. "I am Gwalchmai, Totemic Druid, and official masseuse of the Dark Flames." Scayde had to suppress a giggle at his sincerity as she noticed the dark man behind him roll his fiery green eyes.
This was the Devil-Man she had met earlier. She remembered his name then and repeated it to herself. Thalimon. This was Dragon Wenches friend and he had said he was her friend too. Scayde was captivated by the shiny dark horns protruding from the front of his head. She found herself staring as she wished she could touch them, and felt herself blush at the obvious rudeness of her actions.
Realizing that for better or worse, her fate was now tied to that of this strange group of companions who had befriended her, she steeled herself for what she new she must do.
“ I do not know anything about your enemies” Scayde began. “But if I may be any help to you in this, tell me what I must do. I have never been in a battle,”
(Scayde quickly dismissed the memory of the fight she had once had with the girl at the dance over some boy she had danced with.) “But I am strong, and have been a hunter since I was knee high to a puddle duck. And well, if I can help, I would like to....
Scayde was a little shocked when instead of the handshake she was expecting, he raised her hand and kissed it. "I am Gwalchmai, Totemic Druid, and official masseuse of the Dark Flames." Scayde had to suppress a giggle at his sincerity as she noticed the dark man behind him roll his fiery green eyes.
This was the Devil-Man she had met earlier. She remembered his name then and repeated it to herself. Thalimon. This was Dragon Wenches friend and he had said he was her friend too. Scayde was captivated by the shiny dark horns protruding from the front of his head. She found herself staring as she wished she could touch them, and felt herself blush at the obvious rudeness of her actions.
Realizing that for better or worse, her fate was now tied to that of this strange group of companions who had befriended her, she steeled herself for what she new she must do.
“ I do not know anything about your enemies” Scayde began. “But if I may be any help to you in this, tell me what I must do. I have never been in a battle,”
(Scayde quickly dismissed the memory of the fight she had once had with the girl at the dance over some boy she had danced with.) “But I am strong, and have been a hunter since I was knee high to a puddle duck. And well, if I can help, I would like to....
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
The door slid quietly closed behind Golhyrr… It was done. For a brief moment, he allowed himself a rush of elation and victory. To his knowledge, intrigue of this nature had never been attempted. Quite possibly, this was because it trespassed on the twisted rituals of Lolth, and a miscalculation would mean a gruesome, painful death for all involved. He had turned the plan over and over in his mind a hundred times, however, and had concluded that his mistress was correct in her machinations. More – he felt that the plan itself was as brilliant as it was simple. Within the inner circles of the Noble Houses, the power, status, and influence of all females of consequence are carefully noted and charted. Perhaps most significant in this chronicling was their progression through the Lolthtanchwi or the “Punishments of Lolth.” In order to advance in power and influence, the zwy’il or “candidates” must prove themselves worthy of their cruel and fickle goddess by surviving a series of tests – the Lolthtanchwi. Naturally, information on how far a zwy’il had advanced in the process was a deeply guarded secret… and the target of intense espionage. It was known to Golhyrr’s mistress that Iilya, his commander, had survived Chwineka (The Test of Darkness), Chwikezzar (The Test of Ambition), Chwidridera (The Test of the Drider), and Chwiakrell (The Test of Lies). This meant that Iilya's next test was Chwidencha, the Test of Sacrifice, which involved forfeiting something of great significance -- social status, power, a treasured item, skills... even a part of their own body. Whatever was to be sacrificed was indicated by the presence of a small Quar'valsharess spider -- the messenger of Lolth. At enormous expense, Golhyrr’s mistress has acquired one of these spiders and, using a combination of poisons and pheromones, Golhyrr had acquainted the spider with Iilya’s powerful faerl kuk . As Golhyrr hurried down the corridor to his quarters, he only wished he could be present when Iilya set eyes upon the spider, and realized that she would have to present the staff to a peer of equal or greater status, and with it a significant portion of her magical power. A cruel sneer etched itself in his nose and lips as he considered the indignities he had suffered at Iilya’s hand, counter-manding his planned attack on the Dark Flames, preventing him from destroying the demon whose name they now knew was Thalimon. While he grudgingly acknowledged the hideous death she planned for the Dark Flames in order to avenge her protégé Teshana, who killed and was killed by the Dark Flame called Dark Poet, he felt she had become obsessed to the point of ineptitude. And her insistence that they all be consumed by the Abomination, that none of them would be brought to the amphitheatre for bloodsport or torture was madness. His lips smoothed into a wolfish smile as he felt the righteous satisfaction of his vengeance. With any luck Iilya would cease to be an obstacle and then he could do as he liked with that succulent little wild mage.
Those who will play with kitties must expect to be scratched.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Iilya was only half listening to Golhyrr’s report. Her attention was focused on one of the two male commanders in the room who were in charge of the suicide squads. There was something irresistible about a male who was about to be gutted…. “Enough, Golhyrr,” she said briskly, cutting him off. As a further insult, she addressed the male she had been eying. “Rah'fol?”
“The orcs and other fodder are in position, sut’rinos. We have control of all the tunnels leading to the Abomination. There will be no escape for the Dark Flames.” A wicked gleam lit up his deep-set, voracious eyes.
“Sae'etha?”
“The maggot tunnels leading into the lair are fully manned and await your orders, sut'rinos.”
“Velg'larns?”
“The galleys on both sides are filled with archers. All arrows have been dipped in the Belbol d'Elghinn poison, as you instructed.
“Ja`hai-na?”
Unlike the other priestesses, Ja`hai-na did not answer immediately, but fixed Iilya with a languid look that subtly suggested superiority and condescension. This lasted only an instant, but it was long enough to register with everyone seated around the large slate table. “There is little to report, sut’rinos. You have my most recent intelligence: the demon Thalimon has joined the Dark Flames as you anticipated. We have initiated your plan to capture one or both of the females he seems fond of and torture them in front of him before they are feed to the Abomination. We are unclear how the red-haired mage acquired a horse and lost her bunny, but we are continuing to explore all possible angles. The male druid has become increasingly, and predictably, hormonal and the cat creature still appears to be in a catnip-induced stupor. Or perhaps she is flirting… it is difficult to discern the feline mind.”
Iilya rose and said, “Well, let’s not keep our guests waiting, shall we? We begin in an hour.” As she moved in the direction of her chambers, she stopped as if she had forgotten something. Without turning, she said, “Ja`hai-na, will you assist Golhyrr’s in readying the spiders? You are so good with that sort of thing.” She smiled as she felt the sting of the public humiliation find its targets, and strode the final distance out of the room. It was Golhyrr, however, who enjoyed the final smile. For the first time, he was pleased that none of the chambers in the caves were soundproofed, as they were in the majority of drow cities…. and that he could hear every reverberation of Iilya’s scream…
**************************************************
At first it was just a little thing, an annoyance scratching at the back of Thantor’s mind. He set down his goblet and sat perfectly still, his back against the rock wall. It was difficult to concentrate due to the repulsive aura of the Abomination, but slowly he became aware of movement… like the swarming of rabid wasps… screeching like fingernails dragged along the length of the sordid tunnel walls. All conversation slowly flickered out as each member of the party became aware of the the wrongness... and then the vibration... of what felt like hundreds of incoming enemies.
“Yes, cleric of Corellon Larethian,” Simbul intoned, addressing T’lainya from her aerial perch. “It is indeed time.”
“The orcs and other fodder are in position, sut’rinos. We have control of all the tunnels leading to the Abomination. There will be no escape for the Dark Flames.” A wicked gleam lit up his deep-set, voracious eyes.
“Sae'etha?”
“The maggot tunnels leading into the lair are fully manned and await your orders, sut'rinos.”
“Velg'larns?”
“The galleys on both sides are filled with archers. All arrows have been dipped in the Belbol d'Elghinn poison, as you instructed.
“Ja`hai-na?”
Unlike the other priestesses, Ja`hai-na did not answer immediately, but fixed Iilya with a languid look that subtly suggested superiority and condescension. This lasted only an instant, but it was long enough to register with everyone seated around the large slate table. “There is little to report, sut’rinos. You have my most recent intelligence: the demon Thalimon has joined the Dark Flames as you anticipated. We have initiated your plan to capture one or both of the females he seems fond of and torture them in front of him before they are feed to the Abomination. We are unclear how the red-haired mage acquired a horse and lost her bunny, but we are continuing to explore all possible angles. The male druid has become increasingly, and predictably, hormonal and the cat creature still appears to be in a catnip-induced stupor. Or perhaps she is flirting… it is difficult to discern the feline mind.”
Iilya rose and said, “Well, let’s not keep our guests waiting, shall we? We begin in an hour.” As she moved in the direction of her chambers, she stopped as if she had forgotten something. Without turning, she said, “Ja`hai-na, will you assist Golhyrr’s in readying the spiders? You are so good with that sort of thing.” She smiled as she felt the sting of the public humiliation find its targets, and strode the final distance out of the room. It was Golhyrr, however, who enjoyed the final smile. For the first time, he was pleased that none of the chambers in the caves were soundproofed, as they were in the majority of drow cities…. and that he could hear every reverberation of Iilya’s scream…
**************************************************
At first it was just a little thing, an annoyance scratching at the back of Thantor’s mind. He set down his goblet and sat perfectly still, his back against the rock wall. It was difficult to concentrate due to the repulsive aura of the Abomination, but slowly he became aware of movement… like the swarming of rabid wasps… screeching like fingernails dragged along the length of the sordid tunnel walls. All conversation slowly flickered out as each member of the party became aware of the the wrongness... and then the vibration... of what felt like hundreds of incoming enemies.
“Yes, cleric of Corellon Larethian,” Simbul intoned, addressing T’lainya from her aerial perch. “It is indeed time.”
Those who will play with kitties must expect to be scratched.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
I guess I'm not the only one feeling inspired!
She couldn't stop her hand from twitching consistantly to her scimitar. The aura of the room was tense and sharp, and not what Aqua-chan was quite used to. It was... scary.
The Dark Flames were on edge, with good reason. They had come here with a purpose, a reason to come down here and fight and kill and, if it would come to that, be killed.
Thier voiced were steady enough, but they were obviously nervracked. Dragon Wench's Identify spell made it possible for them to know what the strange key's purpose was. Now they had knowledge of a trap, but had no idea how to get around it. There had to be a way, or otherwise the trap could easily serve it's purpose and injure or kill the targets.
Her icy blue eyes closed slowly. It was very possible that some, if not all, of them could soon die.
The thought was distubing. What would happen if she died during this fight? Would there be any ceremony? And grieving for her if the entire group of warriors fell? No... Nobody would care. Faldorn would think her weak and stupid for disobeying orders to not kill the Abomination and dying doing it. Tiax would obviously not care if he ever got word, Alora would definetly not get word considering she had gone to the small city of Kuldahar, as far as North as that may be, and the only other person who would even know Aqua-chan's name well enough to match it to a face was Danti. But Danti would not mourn her: he couldn't. He... He had been killed. She killed him... Aqua-chan had managed to kill the one person she found sanctuary with.
She wasn't surprised. She always messed things up, one way or another. Her existance was all a mistake, ever since the beginning. The Werecat that fell in love with the Ishiatorian... Who knew? Aqua-chan never knew what happened to either of her parents, but by using the few clues she had, she managed to figure that by Ishiatorian law, her mother was sacraficed and father was destoryed with no chance to make peace with his god.
The tiger-like centaurs had not always been in league with the Drow. It was when the first hybrid with the blood of an Ishiatorian was born did the Drow take interest in the dying race. They were strong and powerful, and make excellent slaves. They could be sold for literally thousands of gold. However, to catch such a slave was impossible without the death of a good number of slavers, so the Drow used thier wit to outsmart the race.
Ishiatorian are very proud creatures, and the Drow of Ched Nassad decided to sweeten the bit of trade by telling the Ishiatorian that by removing all of thier missbred and weakened kin, the race would become stronger. Then, the race would not have to destory thier own, technically making it "not wrong". It was for this reason was Aquamarachan was brought up, then cast away from her society.
The Drow took full-bred, weak Ishiatorians and forced them to reproduce, making a number of slaves. However, they were not as high quality as the true creatures they decended from, and were sold for a lower price. Aqua-chan never had the oppertunity to work alongside another Ishiatorian. Her master would beat her sensless on bad days, calling her worthless and claiming she was worth little more than a tavern courtesian.
When she was sold to a different master, Aqua-chan realized he was not as strong as the former and could fight back. He wasn't a follower of any of the Underdark gods she was familiar with, but was part of a strict network of others. He spoke time and again to his superiors about something called a "Shadow Master", and there were few other details she knew of. Coinicedentially, the warrior Nippy slayed a Drow who was formerly her master when she first entered the caverns.
When Aqua-chan escaped the Underdark, she travelled blindly, mainly under the cover of her cloak and hood. A man who had encountered her soon after leaving the Underdark exit intterogated her, mostly about the society of Draw and what was going on in places he apparently could not get to without being discovered. He was Thantor, and again, it is a strange coink-y-dink he's also down in these tunnels.
Later, there was Danti, Alo and Tiax. They were a strange lot, but they accepted AC when nobody else would. Aqua-chan never knew she was always so hungry to be social... On several accounts she caught herself being ungodly talkative and hyper. It was pretty scary.
When Danti... died, they all split. Tiax to wherever he ended up, Alora to the North, and Aqua-chan to the South. There was no way she could ever face either of them again. They knew it was an accident, however-
"It is indeed time," the floating woman broke her thoughts. What was her name again? Argh, there was so many of them! But... that could very well change in the next battle, AC realized again. Suddenly, she longed to be comforted. Did they all feel that way? Nobody wanted to do this, but it had to be done. How would Faerun be affected by this creature? Obviously, enough to make each of the warriors who knew about the Abomination that were not Drow want to kill it, quickly.
They had been talking the entire time she had been daydreaming. Whatever important things they said, she missed. She quietly treaded over to an open part in the semi-circle they group had unknowingly formed, acroos from the place Aegis and Bloodstalker stood.
AC grinned at Bloodstalker, and held up his vial of ale before taking an unnecessarily huge swig from it. To her dismay, he smiled widely... And after a few moments after she swallowed the substance, she sharply exhaled her breath through her mouth as her eyes began to water.
This attracted the attention of a few people standing nearby, and Aqua-chan had to turn away from them, sputtering out apologies at the same time pounding her chest to try to clear her system out. Behind her, there was snickering, obviously coming from Bloodstalker.
Just wait... JUST wait till I get my hands on him....
At least this way, she could make somebody's mood ease up before the battle to come...
She couldn't stop her hand from twitching consistantly to her scimitar. The aura of the room was tense and sharp, and not what Aqua-chan was quite used to. It was... scary.
The Dark Flames were on edge, with good reason. They had come here with a purpose, a reason to come down here and fight and kill and, if it would come to that, be killed.
Thier voiced were steady enough, but they were obviously nervracked. Dragon Wench's Identify spell made it possible for them to know what the strange key's purpose was. Now they had knowledge of a trap, but had no idea how to get around it. There had to be a way, or otherwise the trap could easily serve it's purpose and injure or kill the targets.
Her icy blue eyes closed slowly. It was very possible that some, if not all, of them could soon die.
The thought was distubing. What would happen if she died during this fight? Would there be any ceremony? And grieving for her if the entire group of warriors fell? No... Nobody would care. Faldorn would think her weak and stupid for disobeying orders to not kill the Abomination and dying doing it. Tiax would obviously not care if he ever got word, Alora would definetly not get word considering she had gone to the small city of Kuldahar, as far as North as that may be, and the only other person who would even know Aqua-chan's name well enough to match it to a face was Danti. But Danti would not mourn her: he couldn't. He... He had been killed. She killed him... Aqua-chan had managed to kill the one person she found sanctuary with.
She wasn't surprised. She always messed things up, one way or another. Her existance was all a mistake, ever since the beginning. The Werecat that fell in love with the Ishiatorian... Who knew? Aqua-chan never knew what happened to either of her parents, but by using the few clues she had, she managed to figure that by Ishiatorian law, her mother was sacraficed and father was destoryed with no chance to make peace with his god.
The tiger-like centaurs had not always been in league with the Drow. It was when the first hybrid with the blood of an Ishiatorian was born did the Drow take interest in the dying race. They were strong and powerful, and make excellent slaves. They could be sold for literally thousands of gold. However, to catch such a slave was impossible without the death of a good number of slavers, so the Drow used thier wit to outsmart the race.
Ishiatorian are very proud creatures, and the Drow of Ched Nassad decided to sweeten the bit of trade by telling the Ishiatorian that by removing all of thier missbred and weakened kin, the race would become stronger. Then, the race would not have to destory thier own, technically making it "not wrong". It was for this reason was Aquamarachan was brought up, then cast away from her society.
The Drow took full-bred, weak Ishiatorians and forced them to reproduce, making a number of slaves. However, they were not as high quality as the true creatures they decended from, and were sold for a lower price. Aqua-chan never had the oppertunity to work alongside another Ishiatorian. Her master would beat her sensless on bad days, calling her worthless and claiming she was worth little more than a tavern courtesian.
When she was sold to a different master, Aqua-chan realized he was not as strong as the former and could fight back. He wasn't a follower of any of the Underdark gods she was familiar with, but was part of a strict network of others. He spoke time and again to his superiors about something called a "Shadow Master", and there were few other details she knew of. Coinicedentially, the warrior Nippy slayed a Drow who was formerly her master when she first entered the caverns.
When Aqua-chan escaped the Underdark, she travelled blindly, mainly under the cover of her cloak and hood. A man who had encountered her soon after leaving the Underdark exit intterogated her, mostly about the society of Draw and what was going on in places he apparently could not get to without being discovered. He was Thantor, and again, it is a strange coink-y-dink he's also down in these tunnels.
Later, there was Danti, Alo and Tiax. They were a strange lot, but they accepted AC when nobody else would. Aqua-chan never knew she was always so hungry to be social... On several accounts she caught herself being ungodly talkative and hyper. It was pretty scary.
When Danti... died, they all split. Tiax to wherever he ended up, Alora to the North, and Aqua-chan to the South. There was no way she could ever face either of them again. They knew it was an accident, however-
"It is indeed time," the floating woman broke her thoughts. What was her name again? Argh, there was so many of them! But... that could very well change in the next battle, AC realized again. Suddenly, she longed to be comforted. Did they all feel that way? Nobody wanted to do this, but it had to be done. How would Faerun be affected by this creature? Obviously, enough to make each of the warriors who knew about the Abomination that were not Drow want to kill it, quickly.
They had been talking the entire time she had been daydreaming. Whatever important things they said, she missed. She quietly treaded over to an open part in the semi-circle they group had unknowingly formed, acroos from the place Aegis and Bloodstalker stood.
AC grinned at Bloodstalker, and held up his vial of ale before taking an unnecessarily huge swig from it. To her dismay, he smiled widely... And after a few moments after she swallowed the substance, she sharply exhaled her breath through her mouth as her eyes began to water.
This attracted the attention of a few people standing nearby, and Aqua-chan had to turn away from them, sputtering out apologies at the same time pounding her chest to try to clear her system out. Behind her, there was snickering, obviously coming from Bloodstalker.
Just wait... JUST wait till I get my hands on him....
At least this way, she could make somebody's mood ease up before the battle to come...
"There are worse things in the world than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess." - Zevran
The Hill of the Skull...Part 6
”Yush raak cthul yamash! Cthol thringu zu yush raak!"
As Ag’thuul spoke the ancient words of power, a ring of fire sprang to life around him. He laughed as he raised his staff into the air, the eye sockets of the skull glowing green…
The Flinds howled in misery as the flames of their master’s spell licked eagerly at their flesh. They launched themselves with abandon at the encircling Lykanviiri ever the more in their pain, their flails whistling as the hundred blades cut through the smoke and heat of Ag’thuul’s fire shield. The rangers were outnumbered by the dog-faced mamluks...
Giira leapt between two of the burly slaves, their flails biting empty space as she crouched low. As she passed by the Flinds her shiim blades lashed wickedly out, slashing through the tendons and knotted muscle of the warrior to her left. The mamluk, clutching his side as he bellowed in rage, charged the Lykanviir, drawing his flail back for a mighty blow. His comrade turned upon this cloaked nemesis as well, beady eyes gleaming eagerly as he sought to share the task of shredding the ranger with his brother…
Instinctively Giira dropped to the earth, narrowly avoiding the flail of the wounded Flind. As it traveled through the space where her veiled face should have been, it was met by the heavily muscled torso of the other mamluk. The burly Gnoll shrieked as the hundred blades tore through his leather jerkin, slicing deep into his flesh. Sensing the opening, Giira launched upwards into her first attacker, raking her shiim blades across his blood-stained armor in a savage arc. Continuing her ascent, she reversed the momentum of her swords, and sunk a blade into the base of his thick, collared neck. As his blood gushed generously forth, covering her sun-browned hand with it’s crimson warmth, Giira’s other shiim plunged likewise. The Flind toppled backwards as the slight warrior drove her swords to the quillons in slave-flesh. His limbs twitched as she withdrew her blades, rolling to the side just as the other warrior’s flail sought to strike her from behind.
Arching her back, Giira snapped upright from her place on the dusty earth of the Hill, her shiim blades catching the large black flail as the Flind brought it back to bear for another swing. The broad-shouldered Gnoll blinked in surprise as the lithe warrior liberated the ponderous weapon from his grip with a twist of her blades, the flail falling to the ground at her feet. In desperation the mamluk dove forward, hoping to knock the little warrior aside with his considerable bulk as he sought to arm himself once again…
Giira leapt into the air as the brute barreled forward, coming down upon the broad expanse of his exposed back. Swinging her upraised arms downwards, her shiim blades flipped in her hands, transforming into great curved daggers…the Flind howled, blood erupting in a great rushing flood from his canine maw as hot fire seared his innards. Seizing Giira in his great hands, he hurled the warrior from her perch as if she were a small child. She sailed forward, hitting the earth in a great cloud of dust, coming to rest against the corpse of the slave’s brother.
The mamluk rose unsteadily to his feet, his hands groping blindly behind, seeking the deadly blades which impaled his kidneys. As he howled again in mournful agony, Giira shook the spots from before her eyes, and laid hold of the dead Flind’s massive flail. It was an ungainly weapon, to be sure, devoid of the grace of her sleek shiim blades, but it would suffice. Rising to her feet, she hefted the flail in a two-handed grip…
The slave was denied a glimpse of the death that sailed towards him as Giira spun in a circle, the hundred blades whistling through the air. His neck and jaw disappeared in a great shower of blood and bone, the weighted blades excavating a ragged hole in his canine visage. This one will howl no more.
The daughter of Thas recovered her swords from the fallen Flind, and looked towards Ag’thuul the Black, standing in the midst of encircling fire.
Steel sung in the eye of the storm as Thalimon Shestare matched his master blow for blow, whirling across the dunes as the Sand Devil. The dark eyes of the Thukariin bore into his pupil from his veiled face, measuring him from within the swirling expanse of his black robes, his Chitiim. It was a sign of honor, for only a Lord possessed the black Chitiim. The ringing of the blades took shape in the arid desert wind as the aging Thukariin suddenly threw his arms wide…and the Steelsong became the shriek of the Raptu. The Chitiim flowed into the feathers of the great raptor-bird of the Waste, and Thalimon watched as his master soared high above in the storm’s eye…
The time had come to ride the winds of the Storm, and the black hawk awaited his pupil to join him. Casting his own arms wide to greet the Raptu song, Thalimon allowed the furnace winds of the Waste to lift him free of the confines of the earth, and deliver him into the embrace of the raging storm…
Ylilothxianliit, the demoness of the Skull, traced the runes of power in the air before her with the pointed tips of her cruel shiim blades. The flaming arrow of her dark enchantment streaked to meet the tiefling as he leapt to meet her in battle once more. Unerringly it struck Thalimon in the chest, causing him to rock back from the force of the impact. As the flames rushed to engulf the paladin in an infernal embrace, the Marilith laughed with glee, her slitted eyes glaring with sadistic pleasure. “Taste the Abyss, little fool…” the Marilith murmured…
Thalimon dropped to one knee, and crossed his arms across his breast as the flames of the missile washed over his body…his blood, pumping like a molten river through his veins, responded rapturously to the Marilith’s fire spell. Pain mingled with pleasure as, alas, the flames winked out of existence, just as quickly as they came. As a child, Thalimon would play with the fire in his mother’s hearth for hours, much to Shalimare’s consternation…
High above, a Raptu shrieked in the rays of the Anauroch sun.
The demoness screamed in rage as Thalimon met her steel with his own, arising to join her in the dance. The tiefling displayed no sign that the flames had even passed near his body, and her eyes widened with surprise as his blades began to appear before hers, awaiting contact. The paladin mystified Ylilothxianliit, and she was beginning to succumb to the throes a murderous rage, the likes of which she had not experienced since she roamed the nether plains of the Blood War, long before the Hill of the Skull ever came to be…
The shiim blades of the Marilith crossed as one to flay Thalimon to ribbons where he stood. Ylilothxianliit had endured enough of this game, and could smell the black blood of the half breed spilling out on the earth as his entrails exited his lacerated body…
…only she found empty air, for the paladin had dropped below the reach of her swords long before they had completed their crossing arcs.
The carrion bird awaited in the winds of the storm. The enormous vulture rode the gale with ease, high above the reach of the rocky peaks of the Encircling Mountains. These the People called the Gibbar Thuk’halim, or the Teeth of the Gods. Thalimon/Raptu caught the rising swell of a mighty thermal by the side of the Black Hawk, and together they streaked upwards towards their foe…
Thalimon crouched beneath the slashing death of shiim swords, and lashed out at the Marilith’s unprotected belly. In tandem Fiendslayer and the Thukariin’s blade raked across the scaled hide of the tanar’ri, sparks flying as their edges met the enveloping blue aura which protected her. The tiefling tumbled out from beneath the monster after his aborted attack followed it’s course, avoiding two plunging shiim blades. The fiend had many arms, many swords, and many powers.
The blue aura shimmered briefly…and Thalimon noticed Fiendslayer flare in answer. The weave of the Marilith’s spell had weakened under the power of the ancient sword.
The blood rage consumed the black heart of Ylilothxianliit. The paladin’s blows had been beyond an affront…the abomination the half breed carried had nearly touched her skin, skin that had undergone eons of steady perfection as her power grew ever greater. Bending forward at the waist, the Marilith belched forth a cloud of poisonous vapor, her venom gusting on carrion winds towards Thalimon…
Rain began to fall at the foot of the Hill of the Skull. Light at first, it increased in intensity until a steady shower ensued. The flaming Salamander recoiled in terror while the gentle summer shower of Thas hissed to vapor against it’s blazing shroud. The cooling rain fell relentlessly, however, and soon the silvery drops began to splatter against the monster’s skin. Thas, the lord of the Lykanviiri, Warders of the Waste, met the steaming reek of the Salamander with his serrated shiim blades. He had prevented the beast from reaching the General.
”Yush raak cthul yamash! Cthol thringu zu yush raak!"
As Ag’thuul spoke the ancient words of power, a ring of fire sprang to life around him. He laughed as he raised his staff into the air, the eye sockets of the skull glowing green…
The Flinds howled in misery as the flames of their master’s spell licked eagerly at their flesh. They launched themselves with abandon at the encircling Lykanviiri ever the more in their pain, their flails whistling as the hundred blades cut through the smoke and heat of Ag’thuul’s fire shield. The rangers were outnumbered by the dog-faced mamluks...
Giira leapt between two of the burly slaves, their flails biting empty space as she crouched low. As she passed by the Flinds her shiim blades lashed wickedly out, slashing through the tendons and knotted muscle of the warrior to her left. The mamluk, clutching his side as he bellowed in rage, charged the Lykanviir, drawing his flail back for a mighty blow. His comrade turned upon this cloaked nemesis as well, beady eyes gleaming eagerly as he sought to share the task of shredding the ranger with his brother…
Instinctively Giira dropped to the earth, narrowly avoiding the flail of the wounded Flind. As it traveled through the space where her veiled face should have been, it was met by the heavily muscled torso of the other mamluk. The burly Gnoll shrieked as the hundred blades tore through his leather jerkin, slicing deep into his flesh. Sensing the opening, Giira launched upwards into her first attacker, raking her shiim blades across his blood-stained armor in a savage arc. Continuing her ascent, she reversed the momentum of her swords, and sunk a blade into the base of his thick, collared neck. As his blood gushed generously forth, covering her sun-browned hand with it’s crimson warmth, Giira’s other shiim plunged likewise. The Flind toppled backwards as the slight warrior drove her swords to the quillons in slave-flesh. His limbs twitched as she withdrew her blades, rolling to the side just as the other warrior’s flail sought to strike her from behind.
Arching her back, Giira snapped upright from her place on the dusty earth of the Hill, her shiim blades catching the large black flail as the Flind brought it back to bear for another swing. The broad-shouldered Gnoll blinked in surprise as the lithe warrior liberated the ponderous weapon from his grip with a twist of her blades, the flail falling to the ground at her feet. In desperation the mamluk dove forward, hoping to knock the little warrior aside with his considerable bulk as he sought to arm himself once again…
Giira leapt into the air as the brute barreled forward, coming down upon the broad expanse of his exposed back. Swinging her upraised arms downwards, her shiim blades flipped in her hands, transforming into great curved daggers…the Flind howled, blood erupting in a great rushing flood from his canine maw as hot fire seared his innards. Seizing Giira in his great hands, he hurled the warrior from her perch as if she were a small child. She sailed forward, hitting the earth in a great cloud of dust, coming to rest against the corpse of the slave’s brother.
The mamluk rose unsteadily to his feet, his hands groping blindly behind, seeking the deadly blades which impaled his kidneys. As he howled again in mournful agony, Giira shook the spots from before her eyes, and laid hold of the dead Flind’s massive flail. It was an ungainly weapon, to be sure, devoid of the grace of her sleek shiim blades, but it would suffice. Rising to her feet, she hefted the flail in a two-handed grip…
The slave was denied a glimpse of the death that sailed towards him as Giira spun in a circle, the hundred blades whistling through the air. His neck and jaw disappeared in a great shower of blood and bone, the weighted blades excavating a ragged hole in his canine visage. This one will howl no more.
The daughter of Thas recovered her swords from the fallen Flind, and looked towards Ag’thuul the Black, standing in the midst of encircling fire.
Steel sung in the eye of the storm as Thalimon Shestare matched his master blow for blow, whirling across the dunes as the Sand Devil. The dark eyes of the Thukariin bore into his pupil from his veiled face, measuring him from within the swirling expanse of his black robes, his Chitiim. It was a sign of honor, for only a Lord possessed the black Chitiim. The ringing of the blades took shape in the arid desert wind as the aging Thukariin suddenly threw his arms wide…and the Steelsong became the shriek of the Raptu. The Chitiim flowed into the feathers of the great raptor-bird of the Waste, and Thalimon watched as his master soared high above in the storm’s eye…
The time had come to ride the winds of the Storm, and the black hawk awaited his pupil to join him. Casting his own arms wide to greet the Raptu song, Thalimon allowed the furnace winds of the Waste to lift him free of the confines of the earth, and deliver him into the embrace of the raging storm…
Ylilothxianliit, the demoness of the Skull, traced the runes of power in the air before her with the pointed tips of her cruel shiim blades. The flaming arrow of her dark enchantment streaked to meet the tiefling as he leapt to meet her in battle once more. Unerringly it struck Thalimon in the chest, causing him to rock back from the force of the impact. As the flames rushed to engulf the paladin in an infernal embrace, the Marilith laughed with glee, her slitted eyes glaring with sadistic pleasure. “Taste the Abyss, little fool…” the Marilith murmured…
Thalimon dropped to one knee, and crossed his arms across his breast as the flames of the missile washed over his body…his blood, pumping like a molten river through his veins, responded rapturously to the Marilith’s fire spell. Pain mingled with pleasure as, alas, the flames winked out of existence, just as quickly as they came. As a child, Thalimon would play with the fire in his mother’s hearth for hours, much to Shalimare’s consternation…
High above, a Raptu shrieked in the rays of the Anauroch sun.
The demoness screamed in rage as Thalimon met her steel with his own, arising to join her in the dance. The tiefling displayed no sign that the flames had even passed near his body, and her eyes widened with surprise as his blades began to appear before hers, awaiting contact. The paladin mystified Ylilothxianliit, and she was beginning to succumb to the throes a murderous rage, the likes of which she had not experienced since she roamed the nether plains of the Blood War, long before the Hill of the Skull ever came to be…
The shiim blades of the Marilith crossed as one to flay Thalimon to ribbons where he stood. Ylilothxianliit had endured enough of this game, and could smell the black blood of the half breed spilling out on the earth as his entrails exited his lacerated body…
…only she found empty air, for the paladin had dropped below the reach of her swords long before they had completed their crossing arcs.
The carrion bird awaited in the winds of the storm. The enormous vulture rode the gale with ease, high above the reach of the rocky peaks of the Encircling Mountains. These the People called the Gibbar Thuk’halim, or the Teeth of the Gods. Thalimon/Raptu caught the rising swell of a mighty thermal by the side of the Black Hawk, and together they streaked upwards towards their foe…
Thalimon crouched beneath the slashing death of shiim swords, and lashed out at the Marilith’s unprotected belly. In tandem Fiendslayer and the Thukariin’s blade raked across the scaled hide of the tanar’ri, sparks flying as their edges met the enveloping blue aura which protected her. The tiefling tumbled out from beneath the monster after his aborted attack followed it’s course, avoiding two plunging shiim blades. The fiend had many arms, many swords, and many powers.
The blue aura shimmered briefly…and Thalimon noticed Fiendslayer flare in answer. The weave of the Marilith’s spell had weakened under the power of the ancient sword.
The blood rage consumed the black heart of Ylilothxianliit. The paladin’s blows had been beyond an affront…the abomination the half breed carried had nearly touched her skin, skin that had undergone eons of steady perfection as her power grew ever greater. Bending forward at the waist, the Marilith belched forth a cloud of poisonous vapor, her venom gusting on carrion winds towards Thalimon…
Rain began to fall at the foot of the Hill of the Skull. Light at first, it increased in intensity until a steady shower ensued. The flaming Salamander recoiled in terror while the gentle summer shower of Thas hissed to vapor against it’s blazing shroud. The cooling rain fell relentlessly, however, and soon the silvery drops began to splatter against the monster’s skin. Thas, the lord of the Lykanviiri, Warders of the Waste, met the steaming reek of the Salamander with his serrated shiim blades. He had prevented the beast from reaching the General.
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
- Contact:
The sound was felt more than it was heard at first. Subsonic reverberations and high-pitched skittering coalesced into a harmonic fusion that was sublimely unsettling.
“What’s that?” Scayde asked.
Gwalchmai turned to her with an appraising look. “You’re going to need some protection.”
At first she thought he meant protection of the Trojan sort, and balled her fist to knock him flat. But then she noticed that his eyes were half shut, and he mouthed a quiet chant. A yellowish glow appeared at his fingertips and he reached out to touch her right shoulder. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment as the surface of her skin and clothes began to become covered in a woody substance. It was dark and looked like the bark of a Texas Ebony tree, but without the thorns. The Barkskin crept slowly across her back and right arm. It covered the right half of her torso and pelvis and began creeping down her leg. Suddenly it stopped, and a static spark leapt from her shoulder to Gwalchmai’s finger.
Gwalchmai yelped and sucked on his smarting fingers. “You seem to be somewhat resistant to divine magic,” he said while looking at the partial covering of bark on her body. “Well, it will provide partial protection at least.”
Scayde was amazed as she poked at the magical covering on her arm. It seemed hard, yet was supple enough to be completely unrestrictive.
Dragon Wench had observed the working of the truncated spell with an arched eyebrow. She rummaged in her cavernous pack and withdrew a large shield. Handing it to a flabbergasted Scayde, she said, “Here. Use this to protect your left. Stay to the back and keep out of harm’s way.”
“What’s that?” Scayde asked.
Gwalchmai turned to her with an appraising look. “You’re going to need some protection.”
At first she thought he meant protection of the Trojan sort, and balled her fist to knock him flat. But then she noticed that his eyes were half shut, and he mouthed a quiet chant. A yellowish glow appeared at his fingertips and he reached out to touch her right shoulder. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment as the surface of her skin and clothes began to become covered in a woody substance. It was dark and looked like the bark of a Texas Ebony tree, but without the thorns. The Barkskin crept slowly across her back and right arm. It covered the right half of her torso and pelvis and began creeping down her leg. Suddenly it stopped, and a static spark leapt from her shoulder to Gwalchmai’s finger.
Gwalchmai yelped and sucked on his smarting fingers. “You seem to be somewhat resistant to divine magic,” he said while looking at the partial covering of bark on her body. “Well, it will provide partial protection at least.”
Scayde was amazed as she poked at the magical covering on her arm. It seemed hard, yet was supple enough to be completely unrestrictive.
Dragon Wench had observed the working of the truncated spell with an arched eyebrow. She rummaged in her cavernous pack and withdrew a large shield. Handing it to a flabbergasted Scayde, she said, “Here. Use this to protect your left. Stay to the back and keep out of harm’s way.”
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Yshania
- Posts: 8572
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Some Girls Wander By Mistake
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"...time...time...time "
The word echoed, not with a soft dying whisper -- but with a biting insistence. Lingering in her mind, the word became shrill and urgent. Then she felt a low hum emanating from the cavern floor...not unlike the distant drone that had shocked her when she had touched the frosted grounds outside of the keep, and again when she had leant against the tunnel wall in the portal cavern. Only now it was stronger, without obvious source, but the rhythm pulsed, threatening and hypnotising until it became a buzz at the base of her skull causing the hair on the back of her neck to raise. Suddenly she glanced at the tunnel wall at the mouth of the cavern in time to see a minute trickle of crumbling rock drop in a dissipating cloud. Then she looked to the pool of Eldath which appeared to swirl with an energy of it’s own, one that defied the vibrations of the rock. She looked to each of her friends and comrades, some appeared fearful others wore a grim and determined countenance. T’lainya was the one that struck her. She seemed almost serene, but not resigned. None of the company appeared untouched by the rising negative energies…she closed her eyes and felt their combined will, their power, their appreciation of each other, now coalescing and embracing them all. Then Mael’s face appeared before her, shimmering and distant, again he whispered from afar "My child, you have a challenge ahead, and it is disguised by the past yet threatens your future do not be blind to it's dark promise, do not take lightly it's threat. Someone here will die, and you will be instrumental...know your... " This time she forced herself to endure his prophecy, he continued "know your strength, for it is what lies within, not without" Mael smiled warmly at her before fading, her rising panic caused by his cryptic message calmed by the lingering sensation of his presence. She took a moment to collect herself before stepping forward “I am as ready as I can be”...
The word echoed, not with a soft dying whisper -- but with a biting insistence. Lingering in her mind, the word became shrill and urgent. Then she felt a low hum emanating from the cavern floor...not unlike the distant drone that had shocked her when she had touched the frosted grounds outside of the keep, and again when she had leant against the tunnel wall in the portal cavern. Only now it was stronger, without obvious source, but the rhythm pulsed, threatening and hypnotising until it became a buzz at the base of her skull causing the hair on the back of her neck to raise. Suddenly she glanced at the tunnel wall at the mouth of the cavern in time to see a minute trickle of crumbling rock drop in a dissipating cloud. Then she looked to the pool of Eldath which appeared to swirl with an energy of it’s own, one that defied the vibrations of the rock. She looked to each of her friends and comrades, some appeared fearful others wore a grim and determined countenance. T’lainya was the one that struck her. She seemed almost serene, but not resigned. None of the company appeared untouched by the rising negative energies…she closed her eyes and felt their combined will, their power, their appreciation of each other, now coalescing and embracing them all. Then Mael’s face appeared before her, shimmering and distant, again he whispered from afar "My child, you have a challenge ahead, and it is disguised by the past yet threatens your future do not be blind to it's dark promise, do not take lightly it's threat. Someone here will die, and you will be instrumental...know your... " This time she forced herself to endure his prophecy, he continued "know your strength, for it is what lies within, not without" Mael smiled warmly at her before fading, her rising panic caused by his cryptic message calmed by the lingering sensation of his presence. She took a moment to collect herself before stepping forward “I am as ready as I can be”...
Parachute for sale, like new! Never opened!
Guinness, black goes with everything.
Guinness, black goes with everything.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
- Contact:
“By the pricking of my thumbs,” Thantor said ominously, “Something wicked this way comes.”
Gwalchmai heard the sound grow louder. “We need to prepare ourselves,” he said. He looked at the entrance to the cavern they were in. “I could cast Spike Growth or Spike Stones at the entrance. That would slow them down a bit, and cause some pain in the process. But maybe something a little stronger would help?” He looked up at the Simbul, noting (not for the first time) that her tattered dress was the only garment she wore. “What about a Skull Trap spell?” Then he looked at T’lainya and Thantor. “How about a Glyph of Warding?”
Gwalchmai heard the sound grow louder. “We need to prepare ourselves,” he said. He looked at the entrance to the cavern they were in. “I could cast Spike Growth or Spike Stones at the entrance. That would slow them down a bit, and cause some pain in the process. But maybe something a little stronger would help?” He looked up at the Simbul, noting (not for the first time) that her tattered dress was the only garment she wore. “What about a Skull Trap spell?” Then he looked at T’lainya and Thantor. “How about a Glyph of Warding?”
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
Nippy sighed slightly, it seemed that battle would once again be joined late. He rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, a slight throb appeared in the back of his head. He closed his eyelids and rubbed his eyes, making stars rush and explode in the darkness. An image began to swim into view, it waxed and waned, the edges blurring, and then coalecsing. Slowly it solidified and a clear picture appeared.
It was of the tiefling earlier, his scabbard seemed to glow slightly, the joint between the blade hilt and the scabbard proper seemed to hum with a bright energy.
A calling intoned with the image. Unclear like the image at first, slowly gaining volume and clarity. The voice was soft, but powerful. A hidden strength seemed to lie behind the male voice.
"Look upon the blade young Paladin. It is one of the swords that shall light thine world with good and honour. It is one of the Holy Avengers, one of my namesakes..."
"But... My lord, is that you, my Loyal Fury? Do you speak with me in my thoughts? I am confused, who is this man? His skin is dark as night, yet his heart seems bold and pure. He looks to be valiant and true, but I see, nay I feel the darkness that was once part of him. Why is this so?"
"Does the past of a man decide his future? Nay, young warrior, it does not. The man decides his future. Thalimon Shestare decides his own, and he will need your help. You will both battle the Abomination.
The voice paused for a while, drawing it's thoughts together.
"You both have your pasts to battle. Your duty is to aid each other. I charge you with this Nippy. On the battlefield you shall become like an unknown Fury. Your blows will strike true, as will Thalimon. He has his blade, you have your hands. Soon, you too will get your blade, but you have a choice in the future. That will decide what you become, where you go, and whom you serve..."
"My lord! I could only serve you!"
If a voice could smile, Torm's would."No Nippy, you don't have to serve anyone. A Paladin's calling is not one that has to be listened too, it is your choice, as is your future!"
The voice deepened, becoming stronger and more self-assured but lost volume, this vision would not last longer...
"I do not have much longer to speak with you, the evil in this place limits my powers somewhat, but do not feel alarmed. I watch, I listen and I know that your battle will not be long in waiting, and remember this, you battle with Thalimon! Keep each other safe, fight valiantly and hard, and fight until your last breath!"
The voices last word echoed in Nippy's mind and the image swirled and drained away, leaving only the dark of Nippy's thoughts. He breathed deeply and then, did something that he had not done in a long time. Smiled.
"I'll be back soon Gwalchmai, I have some business to resolve..."
Nippy walked away and saw Thalimon. He moved quickly and grabbed the Paladin of Torm in a bear-hug.
"Hail brother Thalimon! Torm is indeed glorious day!" Nippy grinned and put Thalimon down, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Torm hath spoken to me, in all his glory, and declared that this day battle shall be joined. We shall honour ourselves greatly in his watch! Now, show me your blade of good and light that shall pin back the forces of evil this day!"
"Good hath no fury like a Paladin of Torm scorned! Prepare to die this day evil!" Nippy's voice carried through the waiting place of the Dark Flames, filling the corridor. He beamed again and looked to Thalimon...
It was of the tiefling earlier, his scabbard seemed to glow slightly, the joint between the blade hilt and the scabbard proper seemed to hum with a bright energy.
A calling intoned with the image. Unclear like the image at first, slowly gaining volume and clarity. The voice was soft, but powerful. A hidden strength seemed to lie behind the male voice.
"Look upon the blade young Paladin. It is one of the swords that shall light thine world with good and honour. It is one of the Holy Avengers, one of my namesakes..."
"But... My lord, is that you, my Loyal Fury? Do you speak with me in my thoughts? I am confused, who is this man? His skin is dark as night, yet his heart seems bold and pure. He looks to be valiant and true, but I see, nay I feel the darkness that was once part of him. Why is this so?"
"Does the past of a man decide his future? Nay, young warrior, it does not. The man decides his future. Thalimon Shestare decides his own, and he will need your help. You will both battle the Abomination.
The voice paused for a while, drawing it's thoughts together.
"You both have your pasts to battle. Your duty is to aid each other. I charge you with this Nippy. On the battlefield you shall become like an unknown Fury. Your blows will strike true, as will Thalimon. He has his blade, you have your hands. Soon, you too will get your blade, but you have a choice in the future. That will decide what you become, where you go, and whom you serve..."
"My lord! I could only serve you!"
If a voice could smile, Torm's would."No Nippy, you don't have to serve anyone. A Paladin's calling is not one that has to be listened too, it is your choice, as is your future!"
The voice deepened, becoming stronger and more self-assured but lost volume, this vision would not last longer...
"I do not have much longer to speak with you, the evil in this place limits my powers somewhat, but do not feel alarmed. I watch, I listen and I know that your battle will not be long in waiting, and remember this, you battle with Thalimon! Keep each other safe, fight valiantly and hard, and fight until your last breath!"
The voices last word echoed in Nippy's mind and the image swirled and drained away, leaving only the dark of Nippy's thoughts. He breathed deeply and then, did something that he had not done in a long time. Smiled.
"I'll be back soon Gwalchmai, I have some business to resolve..."
Nippy walked away and saw Thalimon. He moved quickly and grabbed the Paladin of Torm in a bear-hug.
"Hail brother Thalimon! Torm is indeed glorious day!" Nippy grinned and put Thalimon down, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Torm hath spoken to me, in all his glory, and declared that this day battle shall be joined. We shall honour ourselves greatly in his watch! Now, show me your blade of good and light that shall pin back the forces of evil this day!"
"Good hath no fury like a Paladin of Torm scorned! Prepare to die this day evil!" Nippy's voice carried through the waiting place of the Dark Flames, filling the corridor. He beamed again and looked to Thalimon...
Perverteer Paladin
The bright star of the Avenger, the Wrath of Torm of the True, flared brilliantly in Thalimon's mind. He looked upon the paladin of Torm approaching him, his eyes shining with the radiance of purity...
It is what was, and is, and shall be...this one, your brother on the path, shall stand with you. Thau'luthiin. Stand with him."
Thalimon laughed with joy as the paladin bear-hugged him. He had never met another who served Torm, never in his long years of wandering...his heart leapt at the sight of Nippy.
"Well met, valiant one! My heart sings for this day, that our lord has placed us back to back, that we may strike as one! By Torm, we shall pierce the very black heart of evil itself!"
In response to his brother's request, Thalimon drew the Avenger from the scabbard...
The blade shone with a dazzling radiance in the chamber of Eldath's pool. Holy fire licked the mirrored steel of the ancient sword that Thalimon held before Nippy.
Slowly, he extended the blade, pommel first, to his fellow paladin. "My brother...grasp the sword in your hand. Come to know the Avenger, the Wrath of Torm, our lord..."
It is what was, and is, and shall be...this one, your brother on the path, shall stand with you. Thau'luthiin. Stand with him."
Thalimon laughed with joy as the paladin bear-hugged him. He had never met another who served Torm, never in his long years of wandering...his heart leapt at the sight of Nippy.
"Well met, valiant one! My heart sings for this day, that our lord has placed us back to back, that we may strike as one! By Torm, we shall pierce the very black heart of evil itself!"
In response to his brother's request, Thalimon drew the Avenger from the scabbard...
The blade shone with a dazzling radiance in the chamber of Eldath's pool. Holy fire licked the mirrored steel of the ancient sword that Thalimon held before Nippy.
Slowly, he extended the blade, pommel first, to his fellow paladin. "My brother...grasp the sword in your hand. Come to know the Avenger, the Wrath of Torm, our lord..."
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
Nippy's hand instinctively reached out to the hilt of the blade. He flexed his hand and breathed deeply, but stopped short...
"Nay brother, I cannot. 'Tis your blade, and your blade alone. When mine calls for me, I will know, but until then, I will wait, watch and be patient. My hands, they may not have edges, but they do damage much the same..."
Thalimon's eyes widened a little. "Your hands? You fight with your hands? Well, a Paladin brawling, you learn something new every day..."
"No, Thalimon, no. I trained as a Monk in my youth, a recent... adventure with dragons lost my blades, and I wear no armour because my enemy will be fought on square terms. I shall not sully the combat by making it..."
Nippy stopped in midsentance, a noise was made in the corridor.
"It seems enemies have joined us Nippy! Shall we show them the True Deity's power?" Thalimon grinned.
"You read my mind..." Nippy cracked his knuckles and walked forward with Thalimon, Bloodstalker seeing their movement, joined them...
OOC: How ironic that I'm listening to The Boys are Back in Town...
"Nay brother, I cannot. 'Tis your blade, and your blade alone. When mine calls for me, I will know, but until then, I will wait, watch and be patient. My hands, they may not have edges, but they do damage much the same..."
Thalimon's eyes widened a little. "Your hands? You fight with your hands? Well, a Paladin brawling, you learn something new every day..."
"No, Thalimon, no. I trained as a Monk in my youth, a recent... adventure with dragons lost my blades, and I wear no armour because my enemy will be fought on square terms. I shall not sully the combat by making it..."
Nippy stopped in midsentance, a noise was made in the corridor.
"It seems enemies have joined us Nippy! Shall we show them the True Deity's power?" Thalimon grinned.
"You read my mind..." Nippy cracked his knuckles and walked forward with Thalimon, Bloodstalker seeing their movement, joined them...
OOC: How ironic that I'm listening to The Boys are Back in Town...
Perverteer Paladin
Thalimon heard, before he saw, the movement in the tunnels. He could sense the ambush...
His eyes narrowed as he discerned the forms moving towards the chamber of the pool. Quickly his mind began began to calculate their positions, and he knew the battle would be a desperate one, a struggle to match the dark hour of peril here, in the decaying heart of evil incarnate...
He had seen such odds before. He recalled his friend, Thas, the lord of the Lykanviiri...and he could almost hear his whispered response as he spat on the chamber floor...
"So be it, Dark Guard. It is a day of legends..."
Indeed.
Thalimon looked to Nippy, a grin spreading wide over his dark features. Even in the brilliance of the Avenger, the tielfing's eyes blazed bright green.
It is a day of legends.
His eyes narrowed as he discerned the forms moving towards the chamber of the pool. Quickly his mind began began to calculate their positions, and he knew the battle would be a desperate one, a struggle to match the dark hour of peril here, in the decaying heart of evil incarnate...
He had seen such odds before. He recalled his friend, Thas, the lord of the Lykanviiri...and he could almost hear his whispered response as he spat on the chamber floor...
"So be it, Dark Guard. It is a day of legends..."
Indeed.
Thalimon looked to Nippy, a grin spreading wide over his dark features. Even in the brilliance of the Avenger, the tielfing's eyes blazed bright green.
It is a day of legends.
CYNIC, n.:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
-[url="http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/devils/a.html"]The Devil's Dictionary[/url]
Aegis pushed himself off the wall. He then slowly walked towards Gwally, and the entrance to the cavern. He knew it was coming. Just what "it" was he wasn't sure. He had learned much of Gods and their avatars during his youth with his own kind, and knew that the sound of approaching darkness was not that of Moanders avatar... It was not the abomination, yet it was of equal darkness. He overheard Gwally mention the Skull trap. It would help indeed. He turned to the Druid.
"You wish we fight them here, then?" Aegis asked, already knowing the answer. The druid turned to him.
"Yes. It is wiser to fight where we are familar with our surroundings..." Gwally glanced about the cavern "even if it is still new to us."
"Agreed... Though it will be hard fought..." Gwally nodded in return. "Very well. They will be hear soon, I suspect. Let us be ready." Aegis offered his hand out to Gwally. The druid looked at it for a moment, realizing just now he had never been formally introduced to the ranger. He then took the hand, and smiled, before turning back to Simbul.
Aegis turned himself, and reaching to his back, pulled out five arrows. He knelt to the ground, running his palm along the cold rock surface, looking for a tender point in the stone. When his hand found one, he drove the arrows into the ground. He then unslung his bow, and began to tighten the strings. He wished for no equipment failures, especially if he wished to see the surface again...
"You wish we fight them here, then?" Aegis asked, already knowing the answer. The druid turned to him.
"Yes. It is wiser to fight where we are familar with our surroundings..." Gwally glanced about the cavern "even if it is still new to us."
"Agreed... Though it will be hard fought..." Gwally nodded in return. "Very well. They will be hear soon, I suspect. Let us be ready." Aegis offered his hand out to Gwally. The druid looked at it for a moment, realizing just now he had never been formally introduced to the ranger. He then took the hand, and smiled, before turning back to Simbul.
Aegis turned himself, and reaching to his back, pulled out five arrows. He knelt to the ground, running his palm along the cold rock surface, looking for a tender point in the stone. When his hand found one, he drove the arrows into the ground. He then unslung his bow, and began to tighten the strings. He wished for no equipment failures, especially if he wished to see the surface again...
Scayde gasped as she saw the light emanating from Gwalchmai’s fingertips flinching her shoulder around as he touched her. She noted, with dismay, the bark covering her arm. Terrified, she jumped away from Gwalchmai; afraid he was trying to turn her into a tree or something. Reaching up with her left hand, she began to brush the stuff off of her leather vest, thankfully it had not worked. 
She was only able to rid herself partly of the flecks of bark before Dragon Wench shoved a shield into her hands, telling her to “Stay to the back and keep out of harm’s way.”
“What the hell is going on?” Scayde exclaimed. The scratching sound was becoming deafening. Scayde quickly turned to Hunter. I have to get him to a safe place. Taking his reins, Gwalchmai offered a suggestion. Pointing ahead about 20 meters to a small island just off the bank of the pool. “There, he should be safe there.” Turning to the others, he added, we will be here.
Taking the reins from him, Scayde wondered if she should trust this magician who just had tried to make a plant out of her. Looking around for an alternative, she realized though, it was the best thing. She led Hunter ahead to the water’s edge, and out across the shallow of the pool, tethering him to a rock formation on a small island just about 3 meters off the banks. Stroking his withers, she prayed that whatever it was couldn’t swim. Quickly she grabbed her bullwhip from the saddlebags, fastening it to the back of her belt. She checked the boot sheath for the placement of her Bowie knife that her father had taught her to always carry when she went out riding alone. Tightening the straps to her leather leggings, she sighed her relief that she had worn the tight fitting straight legged stile, rather than the big fancy chaps she often wore when barrel racing. Then snatching her riffle and a box of ammo, Scayde ran to rejoin the others….
She was only able to rid herself partly of the flecks of bark before Dragon Wench shoved a shield into her hands, telling her to “Stay to the back and keep out of harm’s way.”
“What the hell is going on?” Scayde exclaimed. The scratching sound was becoming deafening. Scayde quickly turned to Hunter. I have to get him to a safe place. Taking his reins, Gwalchmai offered a suggestion. Pointing ahead about 20 meters to a small island just off the bank of the pool. “There, he should be safe there.” Turning to the others, he added, we will be here.
Taking the reins from him, Scayde wondered if she should trust this magician who just had tried to make a plant out of her. Looking around for an alternative, she realized though, it was the best thing. She led Hunter ahead to the water’s edge, and out across the shallow of the pool, tethering him to a rock formation on a small island just about 3 meters off the banks. Stroking his withers, she prayed that whatever it was couldn’t swim. Quickly she grabbed her bullwhip from the saddlebags, fastening it to the back of her belt. She checked the boot sheath for the placement of her Bowie knife that her father had taught her to always carry when she went out riding alone. Tightening the straps to her leather leggings, she sighed her relief that she had worn the tight fitting straight legged stile, rather than the big fancy chaps she often wore when barrel racing. Then snatching her riffle and a box of ammo, Scayde ran to rejoin the others….
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
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dragon wench
- Posts: 19609
- Joined: Tue Apr 24, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: The maelstrom where chaos merges with lucidity
- Contact:
Observing her companions prepare for combat Dragon Wench found herself reflecting upon past battles and fallen comrades. Some had been slain upon barren fields, others had simply lost their minds wandering through a haze of senseless torment.
And of course, some battles involved neither the shedding of blood, nor the stalwart presence of trusted companions. It were these lonely, internal struggles that left wounds far deeper than could ever the savage thrust of a sword into exposed flesh or skin.
Seemingly in the distance, she heard the sounds of approaching enemies, and the malodorous reek of evil rose up to embrace them all...its tentacles grasping outwards..trying to engulf them within its putrid stench. A voice shouted for a Skull Trap ...jerking herself into awareness Dragon Wench looked towards the shadowed tunnel looming ahead. With speed she completed the elaborate weave for the spell, and glanced at Simbul. The arch mage, somehow imposing and terrible in her tattered robes, had joined her....and Dragon Wench heard the intonation of magic still beyond her powers.
As she waited for their enemies to trigger the frequently lethal magical explosive Dragon Wench began to cast spells in rapid succesion. Upon herself she cast Stoneskin, Spirit Armour and Mirror Image, while upon the entire group she cast Haste.
Thinking that perhaps summoned aid could be of use, she conjured forth two skeleton warriors, followed by two invisible stalkers and a sword spider. Feeling a twinge of unease at the ethics of what she was about to do, Dragon Wench commanded the small army towards the fighters, knowing that they soon would be slaughtered simply because they did not possess the power to do anything other.
Finally, having done as much as she was able in that moment, Dragon Wench readied her bow, and moved near to where Gwalchmai stood, appreciating the familiar warmth and reassuring manner her old friend offered.
And of course, some battles involved neither the shedding of blood, nor the stalwart presence of trusted companions. It were these lonely, internal struggles that left wounds far deeper than could ever the savage thrust of a sword into exposed flesh or skin.
Seemingly in the distance, she heard the sounds of approaching enemies, and the malodorous reek of evil rose up to embrace them all...its tentacles grasping outwards..trying to engulf them within its putrid stench. A voice shouted for a Skull Trap ...jerking herself into awareness Dragon Wench looked towards the shadowed tunnel looming ahead. With speed she completed the elaborate weave for the spell, and glanced at Simbul. The arch mage, somehow imposing and terrible in her tattered robes, had joined her....and Dragon Wench heard the intonation of magic still beyond her powers.
As she waited for their enemies to trigger the frequently lethal magical explosive Dragon Wench began to cast spells in rapid succesion. Upon herself she cast Stoneskin, Spirit Armour and Mirror Image, while upon the entire group she cast Haste.
Thinking that perhaps summoned aid could be of use, she conjured forth two skeleton warriors, followed by two invisible stalkers and a sword spider. Feeling a twinge of unease at the ethics of what she was about to do, Dragon Wench commanded the small army towards the fighters, knowing that they soon would be slaughtered simply because they did not possess the power to do anything other.
Finally, having done as much as she was able in that moment, Dragon Wench readied her bow, and moved near to where Gwalchmai stood, appreciating the familiar warmth and reassuring manner her old friend offered.
Spoiler
testingtest12
Spoiler
testingtest12
Leaning against the stone pillar, Mysteria felt it begin to vibrate beneath her shoulder bones before she heard the sound of the advancing enemy. The enemy ... eyes closed, she felt the vibrating stone, heard the deep rumbling ... fear settled in her stomach as she pressed her hands back against the stone, trying to meld into it, to become stone ... She snapped her eyes open as she felt the familiar tingling of magical energies and pushed herself violently away from the stone, frightened by the prospect of turning herself to stone at the worst of times.
For a moment, she stood lost, but then she saw Aegis kneel down and knew what she had to do. With a few steps she was near the elf and pointed to a spot some ten feet to the left of him. "Crossfire." He nodded and she took up her position, unslung her bow and checked the string as well as the arrows in her quiver. Satisfied, she noted that she had a good view of most of the cavern and especially of the light ranger to her right. With a deft movement, she threw back her cloak, verified that her swords glided well in their sheaths, then took her first arrow, notching it to the bow but not yet drawing.
Eyes wide open, she stared ahead towards the cave entrance from where the still unknown enemy would surface. Briefly, she wondered who or what was coming for them, but instead of being frightened, she found herself strangely calm and focused ... perhaps shocked? She didn't care as long as she could aim straight, she'd deal with shock later ... if there was a later. She barely registered her friends' movements, time seemed to slow down to a halt as the throbbing sound filled the cavern, hypnotic in it's own special way.
For a moment, she stood lost, but then she saw Aegis kneel down and knew what she had to do. With a few steps she was near the elf and pointed to a spot some ten feet to the left of him. "Crossfire." He nodded and she took up her position, unslung her bow and checked the string as well as the arrows in her quiver. Satisfied, she noted that she had a good view of most of the cavern and especially of the light ranger to her right. With a deft movement, she threw back her cloak, verified that her swords glided well in their sheaths, then took her first arrow, notching it to the bow but not yet drawing.
Eyes wide open, she stared ahead towards the cave entrance from where the still unknown enemy would surface. Briefly, she wondered who or what was coming for them, but instead of being frightened, she found herself strangely calm and focused ... perhaps shocked? She didn't care as long as she could aim straight, she'd deal with shock later ... if there was a later. She barely registered her friends' movements, time seemed to slow down to a halt as the throbbing sound filled the cavern, hypnotic in it's own special way.
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."
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Bloodstalker
- Posts: 15512
- Joined: Wed Apr 18, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Hell if I know
- Contact:
BS felt the mounting tension as he walked to join Nippy and Thalimon. His blood surged as the familiar mixture of excitement and fear coursed through him. He welcomed both, letting the fear heighten his senses as the thrill of the coming battle drove all reflective thoughts from his mind. Oddly, he felt more at ease than he had since entering this system of caverns. The threat was immediate now, no longer a faceless specter that peered from the shadows. Even the neverending throb of the Abomination was all but forgotten. Where he had felt out of his element before in the midst of the the tactical discussions, here, with the fight fast comng, he felt completey at home.
The sudden surge of magical energies being manipulated caused him to glance around at the group. He was becoming somewhat used to all the spellcasting that invaraibly accopmpanied traveling with mages, and in this instance, discerning the intent of the Skull Trap, he found he welcomed it. A few less enimies to deal with meant less chance of some breaking through the line he and the other fighters were forming. Well, more like a few more minute until someone broke through, translating into a few more spells that mages could get off. The irony struck him, the thought of himself buying time for a spellcaster to function so foriegn it was almost ridiculous.
He felt Farscape come up alongside as he stood, letting his eyes move further, searching for Aegis and Mysteria, and felt the smile creep into his feature as he saw the respective positions they were taking. If nothing else, the group was efficient.
A sudden feeling forced his eyes back to the dark opening, a subtle call from his senses telling him he had only a matter of minutes before the confusion of a pitched battle would be upon them. He pulled his daggers from his bracers, tucking them into his belt for easier access. For a moment, he though of invoking the name of the god of his youth, the idea of calling to Tempos skittering through his mind before he rejected the idea. His god had given him over to the wizards years ago, and save for a few occasions when the habits of youth had forced the name from his lips, BS had abandoned any belief in the diety. He prefered to fight his own battles.
Striker came into his hand, and BS held the blade low at his side, content to wait on his enemy to come to him, spending the time channelling all his doubts and frustrations into a burning rage that boiled just beneath his calm exterior. Soon enough, he would have cause to vent that rage. The thought of perhaps not living to see the sun again came and was gone in the next instant. He calmly accepted that possiblity,embraced the risk with the cold reasoning he had aquired in his years of captivity. If it came to that, then so be it. He would die the death of a warrior, with the blood of his enemies on his blade.
The sudden surge of magical energies being manipulated caused him to glance around at the group. He was becoming somewhat used to all the spellcasting that invaraibly accopmpanied traveling with mages, and in this instance, discerning the intent of the Skull Trap, he found he welcomed it. A few less enimies to deal with meant less chance of some breaking through the line he and the other fighters were forming. Well, more like a few more minute until someone broke through, translating into a few more spells that mages could get off. The irony struck him, the thought of himself buying time for a spellcaster to function so foriegn it was almost ridiculous.
He felt Farscape come up alongside as he stood, letting his eyes move further, searching for Aegis and Mysteria, and felt the smile creep into his feature as he saw the respective positions they were taking. If nothing else, the group was efficient.
A sudden feeling forced his eyes back to the dark opening, a subtle call from his senses telling him he had only a matter of minutes before the confusion of a pitched battle would be upon them. He pulled his daggers from his bracers, tucking them into his belt for easier access. For a moment, he though of invoking the name of the god of his youth, the idea of calling to Tempos skittering through his mind before he rejected the idea. His god had given him over to the wizards years ago, and save for a few occasions when the habits of youth had forced the name from his lips, BS had abandoned any belief in the diety. He prefered to fight his own battles.
Striker came into his hand, and BS held the blade low at his side, content to wait on his enemy to come to him, spending the time channelling all his doubts and frustrations into a burning rage that boiled just beneath his calm exterior. Soon enough, he would have cause to vent that rage. The thought of perhaps not living to see the sun again came and was gone in the next instant. He calmly accepted that possiblity,embraced the risk with the cold reasoning he had aquired in his years of captivity. If it came to that, then so be it. He would die the death of a warrior, with the blood of his enemies on his blade.
Lord of Lurkers
Guess what? I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!
Guess what? I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
- Contact:
A song competed with the sound of the coming enemy. Jennabard’s voice rose in strident tones, a song that spoke of bravery and victory. All the allies who heard the song felt the notes deep in their beings. As this song played in their heads, they knew that they could strike a little faster, hit a little harder, and more effectively evade attacks. They also felt that the effects of her song would linger a few minutes after she ceased to play. More than one smile played across the lips of those who prepared for battle.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
As Scayde was running to rejoin the others, she felt someone touch her elbow. Turning quickly, she saw Thantor standing next to her, concern in his eyes. “We need to talk.”
“Amen to that. What the hell is goin’ on all of a sudden?” Thantor opened his mouth to speak, but the futility of trying to explain everything that Scayde needed to know in the brief moments left to them quickly became apparent. Desperately, he searched for another option. “I need to know if I can trust you to keep a secret.”
“Yes… yes, you can trust me.”
“I have psionic…” he searched for a term she would understand, “psychic abilities, Scayde. And right now, in order try and ensure your safety, I need to use them. I need for you to understand what is happening but I can only do that telepathically.”
“Oookay.” Scayde was a little worried that Thantor might have made one toast too many.
“Let me show you. Put your hand on top of mine,” said he said, extending his right hand. Somewhat tentatively, Scayde complied. “Ok, now think about your home; think about Texas,” Thantor commanded. It wasn’t necessary for them to be in physical contact, but in his experience this process, done in a stepwise fashion, seemed to make it easier for the person he was working with to accept what was happening. He closed his eyes, taking the opportunity to verify what he had learned earlier, not probing any deeper than was necessary to facilitate what needed to be done. Then he quickly opened his eyes. “Great. How was that for you?”
“Well,” Scayde retorted, “it was nice, but not like I want to light up a cigarette or anything.”
Despite the gravity of their situation, Thantor laughed and said, “No, I mean was painful or frightening?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Scayde replied.
“I did quite a lot. I know your favorite color is green and you love the ocean. You listen to a type of music called "blues". You broke your arm when you were 7. You are the oldest of three children and have a brother and sister. You like to play with computers, and the poetry you write you keep in a diary behind the mantle of the fireplace in your father’s study.” Thantor glanced quickly over his shoulder at the group, then looking back added. “You are very frightened and confused as to what is going on and why you are here...”
Scayde’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back from him. “What… what are you?”
Thantor sighed. “Strange. My mother said the same thing, the first time she saw me. It’s ok Scayde. You said I could trust you. Now I am asking you to trust me. Ok?” She let out a sigh, then nodded. “Good. Now I need to give you some information in the same way.”
“You mean, like a mind meld? I‘ve seen it in “Star Trek”… like Mr. Spock would do...”
“No. We don’t have time for that. It will be more like a multimedia presentation over a symmetric DSL line." Scayde just stared at him. “We don’t have much time, Scayde,” Thantor reminded her. It was all going too fast and the pounding was getting louder. She looked up at him and for a moment simply considered him, letting whatever intuition she possessed come to the surface. “Ok,” she said deciding to trust him. “Do it.” Thantor nodded. A jumble of images, feelings, and sensations flooded into Scayde’s mind.
“Ok, now we can talk to each other.” Thantor breathed a sigh of relief. “We are under attack…”
“… from the drow. Who is the Shadow Master?”
“Later. We are…
“Oh my god…” Scayde’s hand was over her mouth and her face turned a sickly greenish color. “We are going to fight… that? How could anyone…” Her words trickled out, consumed by the horror she saw in her mind. Thantor reached over and shook her roughly. “Scayde! Focus! I need you with me, here, right here. Ok?” She shook herself away from him, turning her head as if to spat out something vile. Then she turned back and looked at him dead in the eye. “Ok.” Thantor continued, “We are all preparing to go into battle...”
“… and Gwalchmai tried to help me,” Scayde said slowly, “by casting Barkskin on me? And you were going to ask Simbul to help me by having her cast Improved Invisibility on me. But then Gwalchmai’s spell did not work, and now you are thinking Simbul’s might not either for some reason... that I might be immune to magic”
Thantor nodded. “Exactly. That could be an advantage but we need to keep you out of melee range. We should also probably outfit you in chain mail, just in case. I think Dragon Wench might have a spare that will fit you.” Taking Scayde by the arm he said, “Let’s rejoin the others. I think we should talk to Simbul about finding a nice perch for you and your rifle.”
“Amen to that. What the hell is goin’ on all of a sudden?” Thantor opened his mouth to speak, but the futility of trying to explain everything that Scayde needed to know in the brief moments left to them quickly became apparent. Desperately, he searched for another option. “I need to know if I can trust you to keep a secret.”
“Yes… yes, you can trust me.”
“I have psionic…” he searched for a term she would understand, “psychic abilities, Scayde. And right now, in order try and ensure your safety, I need to use them. I need for you to understand what is happening but I can only do that telepathically.”
“Oookay.” Scayde was a little worried that Thantor might have made one toast too many.
“Let me show you. Put your hand on top of mine,” said he said, extending his right hand. Somewhat tentatively, Scayde complied. “Ok, now think about your home; think about Texas,” Thantor commanded. It wasn’t necessary for them to be in physical contact, but in his experience this process, done in a stepwise fashion, seemed to make it easier for the person he was working with to accept what was happening. He closed his eyes, taking the opportunity to verify what he had learned earlier, not probing any deeper than was necessary to facilitate what needed to be done. Then he quickly opened his eyes. “Great. How was that for you?”
“Well,” Scayde retorted, “it was nice, but not like I want to light up a cigarette or anything.”
Despite the gravity of their situation, Thantor laughed and said, “No, I mean was painful or frightening?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Scayde replied.
“I did quite a lot. I know your favorite color is green and you love the ocean. You listen to a type of music called "blues". You broke your arm when you were 7. You are the oldest of three children and have a brother and sister. You like to play with computers, and the poetry you write you keep in a diary behind the mantle of the fireplace in your father’s study.” Thantor glanced quickly over his shoulder at the group, then looking back added. “You are very frightened and confused as to what is going on and why you are here...”
Scayde’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back from him. “What… what are you?”
Thantor sighed. “Strange. My mother said the same thing, the first time she saw me. It’s ok Scayde. You said I could trust you. Now I am asking you to trust me. Ok?” She let out a sigh, then nodded. “Good. Now I need to give you some information in the same way.”
“You mean, like a mind meld? I‘ve seen it in “Star Trek”… like Mr. Spock would do...”
“No. We don’t have time for that. It will be more like a multimedia presentation over a symmetric DSL line." Scayde just stared at him. “We don’t have much time, Scayde,” Thantor reminded her. It was all going too fast and the pounding was getting louder. She looked up at him and for a moment simply considered him, letting whatever intuition she possessed come to the surface. “Ok,” she said deciding to trust him. “Do it.” Thantor nodded. A jumble of images, feelings, and sensations flooded into Scayde’s mind.
“Ok, now we can talk to each other.” Thantor breathed a sigh of relief. “We are under attack…”
“… from the drow. Who is the Shadow Master?”
“Later. We are…
“Oh my god…” Scayde’s hand was over her mouth and her face turned a sickly greenish color. “We are going to fight… that? How could anyone…” Her words trickled out, consumed by the horror she saw in her mind. Thantor reached over and shook her roughly. “Scayde! Focus! I need you with me, here, right here. Ok?” She shook herself away from him, turning her head as if to spat out something vile. Then she turned back and looked at him dead in the eye. “Ok.” Thantor continued, “We are all preparing to go into battle...”
“… and Gwalchmai tried to help me,” Scayde said slowly, “by casting Barkskin on me? And you were going to ask Simbul to help me by having her cast Improved Invisibility on me. But then Gwalchmai’s spell did not work, and now you are thinking Simbul’s might not either for some reason... that I might be immune to magic”
Thantor nodded. “Exactly. That could be an advantage but we need to keep you out of melee range. We should also probably outfit you in chain mail, just in case. I think Dragon Wench might have a spare that will fit you.” Taking Scayde by the arm he said, “Let’s rejoin the others. I think we should talk to Simbul about finding a nice perch for you and your rifle.”
Those who will play with kitties must expect to be scratched.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.