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Recently
Posted: 19 Aug 2007 03:44 PM |
Four days ago.
Captivity by the breath had more benefits than being captive by Helkris did. First of all, he was aware of his surroundings, and know who was in the room with him, and that he was fully conscious, alert to his surroundings. He didn't like the aspect of being bared, and then held in a state of paralysis, but knew that it was necessary... especially with Salt fifteen feet away, in the same condition. Despite the old man droning on and on about the food, he was great company, and a good friend to be with. Certainly someone he could at least talk to regarding their condition, and a plan for escape...
At least, until Oswin walked in, and disrupted the process, freeing the two from captivity. They departed for the Guyver Store through one of Oswin's makeshift portals, arriving in front of Kalid, Johe, and Ophelia. Still bare and exposed, but alive. And moving.
The cold land was a beautiful place. Despite the sense of urgency that Tristian had that night, his mind lingered for a moment on this place. The chill of the air was crisp, the air was clean, and the land was simply beautiful. He made a promise to see it again one day. But for now, there was a war to win, and friends to save.
There was the most stealthy of fighters within that lair. Beyond that, was flying books, that summoned dragons. Undead that were indistinguishable from the darkness they dwelled in. Multi-headed wolves. The worst, however, was when Johe opened the door to see three captive Atalan, and they began to systematically wipe out the group.
Tristian looked at his fallen comrades, and sneered. Inside his staff of gnomish design, was a scroll. A damning paper that called the vilest creature into existence, creating it, for the purpose of slaying. Even that was no use, as Tristian was defeated by the more clever tactics of the dark elves.
A moment later, and Tristian found himself being brought back to life... by a demonesque thing he had never laid eyes upon before. He didn't open the gate... but didn't want to think about the future of the one who did.
Three days ago.
"Why me?!?"
Tristian ran at a sprint, past everything he knew, dispassionate to the fact that wolves were attempting to rend flesh from his body.
Something worse, something much worse, that chased him from Bloodwood to Swiftdale, was still speeding to his heels. He stopped, had to halt his progress to reclaim air, he felt a presence near him, and merely looked in the direction.
The demon that was freed the night before. Freed by Sanna's hand. "Why indeed!" was what the thing exclaimed, and laughed as it sank back into the ground.
All of those things that were in captivity last night... were released: a beholder orb, the Naillamne experiment beetle of devastation, a creeper, a ball of light with the ability to make anything crumble under itself, and the demon responsible for the entire thing...
As if the Undead Avatar of War was not enough...
A day ago.
Tristian sat in the Smallest Pub In The Known World with his apprentice. She had wanted to walk, and see what lie beyond Griffin's Landing, and they had found nothing much of interest, except old memories, tattered, weathered, and tied to a boat. Their next endeavor was to hike to the pub, where Tristian had paid a good sum of coin for drinks for the two of them.
It appeared that Alis was not very good with the ill-effects of alcohol. Especially motor skills.
"You're not making any shense, man! Maybe you should shtop dringking altrready! You clearrhly can't hold your boooze, Trish." Nevermind the fact that Alis had a rather difficult time merely stabilizing herself on a chair that never wobbled until she had placed herself on it.
The hunter gave a smirk, casually sipping his ale, and looked at her evenly. "Alright. I'll sit here, and let you do all the drinking for me." He merely relaxed himself, and watched the woman continue with her banterings. "You're hilarious, Alis. I'm going to take you to a packed bar one day, and just watch you drink everyone under the table." He then remembered a vital part to that last statement, and added it right in. "...If you can find the table."
What she said next, made Tristian and the bartender Hilary, stop everything they were doing, and simply look at her. Tristian had a mug to his lips, while the owner and barkeep was polishing a glass that was rarely used to begin with. He merely looked at Alis, and grinned.
Clearly, it was the alcohol.
That night.
"Sir...Tristian. You know what, who... I am, aala?"
His response, it came through a mind that was currently suffering a drunken headache of his own. Combined with the drinking he had done during the afternoon, it forced him to lie on a couch, and get wrapped in a blanket by the person currently addressing him.
"Have you heard little else, then?" She pauses, letting the words sink in. "Does it trouble you at all that I've been known as a killer, among other things?"
"We've all killed people." It was a sad truth, but very few people he knew were innocent in that regard. He faced a sudden fact: he was one of many of murderers, thieves, assassins, vandals, and criminals that Vives has running amok. "And..." Tristian looked up at the woman currently making a makeshift resting place for him. "Why would this information bother me? Do you intend to kill me?"
"Le, le... I've little reason to kill you. I simply...well, quite honestly, Tristian, that it doesn't bother you at all surprises me."
"Why? We've all killed before. Innocence is a lost concept." His words were placed into a tone that echoed deep thought behind them, a truth to a revelation.
She looked taken aback by his lack of surprise. Like she expected him to recoil in fear or horror. "Yes. In the heat of battle, we have all killed. But tell me, Tristian... have you carefully chosen someone, and stalked them? Gained their trust, or simply used your actions to intimidate them? Purposely led them somewhere, when you knew you had their trust, or their helplessness, before killing them? Have you chosen prey, and played with it as a cat toys with a mouse, with no intention to kill, but only to let it be known that you might?"
The blue eyes finally drifted to a close. His words were as cold as the air outside. "I am a ranger, Macha. That is what I excel at." |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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Lessons.
Posted: 24 Aug 2007 09:40 PM |
Naruth's Fury
He had only used it once during combat, during the siege of the halls of Bregodim, when panic and lack of control were paramount, and the act earned him the ire of most of those there. Salt, Alton, along with Xaranthir, did not agree to having a vampire fighting on their side, even when it seemed they needed all the help they could get. And yet... not a single one of them had failed to even notice Balthor create a demon of the hells to wage his bred purpose against the Atalan/Durgazon forces.
Since then, the scroll sat amongst his belongings, and left. However, his most recent endeavor was a mimicry of the dwarven mage's idea, as he conjured a demon to fight the Atalan while Johe and company lie broken and bleeding in the castle of Helkrun.
And now... he was standing in one of the hottest parts of Naruth's Fury, his apprentice beside him.
"Is this far enough?"
Tristian's answer was "I suppose," as he walked to the ledge of the cliff. He knew part of his foot hovered beyond that brink, as close as the hunter could balance himself. He took his staff in hand, and slid open a compartment, one of many, along the cylindrical side.
The 'emergency' scrolls, Tristian mused. He cracked an inward smile, and thought back to an earlier, yet similar experience. A verbal spat with Emma Robinson, the woman who took to others like their savior. She wanted scrolls for the purpose of burning, in this very crater. He remembered the arrogance of himself, and hers, neither willing to relent, neither willing to yield to the other. He thought of her a fool, then, but now...
With a violent throw, he tosses the scrolls into the air, letting the heat begin to spark flames in them way before they ever made impact against the lava below. Undead. Demons. He would carry them no more.
Tristian let out a sigh. "Those were..."
Alis interjected with the end of the sentence, which sounded a lot more positive than what Tristian himself would have ever said. "...Against everything I believe to be sacred." Her tone, her stance, gave the implication that everything was approved of, and that there was a greater respect for Tristian from that mere gesture, tossing papers acquired from expeditions long forgotten.
Slowly, Tristian ran the act through his mind. It seemed small, but to Alis, the deed weighed heavier than he would ever know. This... this is a beginning to something. Although I don't like it, somehow... I don't think they would help out, anyway. If I can kill a mere demon, what can a mere demon do in the heat of battle, other than look menacing?
Tristian turned himself back to the Elberethian, an exhale that signified the end of the symbolic act.
That night, Icy Vale Inn.
"I'm going out in a bit. There's something I want to see."
A small corridor held two people, a door to the main living area of the inn, a door to a storage room, a door that led to the colds of the Vale, and a door resting upon a small flight of stairs, to the rooms rented to the folk that needed them.
The tired woman looked to the male in his arms, and nodded. "Stay safe, okay?" The male nodded, and pressed his lips to hers.
"I will." He hugged her, as she did not seem to have the intention of letting go. This woman, who was in tears earlier, because she feared the concept of knowing a dark, vile man who seemingly toted around demons and deaders in his pocket. He savored the moment, all the way until she reluctantly stepped back, releasing her grip on his stomach, and headed off for the stairs. Within a few moments, he was outside, blade in hand.
Later, Heaven's Spire
This male climbed hand over hand, the single, solitary rope the only means of ascension to the snowy cliffside. It was the first time he had gone alone, his mind prepared for whatever stood in his way.
A hand finally reached across a horizontal sheet of snow, metal fingers digging into the surface, as the arms pushed up, the body scrambling to get on solid ground. That body fully stood, hearing the caw in the distance. He turned to look down, noting the height that he climbed on a strand of rope, tied to a simple tree. Finally that body turned to look at the ground before him-
-and was met with the roc, who was already in the process of digging it's claws through Tristian Vike. A claw ripped through the armor, opening it, the sloorch of impaled skin soon afterward. A hole in the stomach, one that was twice the size of Tristian's arm, now left in his own person. The force from it shoved him back, as the roc removed it's claws, and lunged with a beak, the full intention of making a meal from what was left from the hunter.
The shield was what connected, a buffer to separate Vike from roc, but Tristian was already beginning his descent. He fell, as the sound of wind permeated his ears, the sight of solidified ice rushed forward to greet him with open arms.
It was much, much later, when a lonely hermit took the body, and dragged it out of that expanse, Tristian's condition being one of horrifying proportions: thrashed, shattered, and decimated. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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Pages inward.
Posted: 30 Aug 2007 03:24 PM |
Along that river, I walked. In the silence of maddening screams, nightmares, and misanthropia, I walked. Placid, human form, into a section of Nethar'u I had never lain eyes on before. A river that rushed, the sound of the liquid not sounding like liquid at all. It was too think to be considered liquid, yet I still found an empty flask, and filled it for further observation later.
I was warded to all ends, my mind shielded from all sorts of infernal dark taint, along with my body and spirit, in the event I found myself battling the things that walked those lands.
The most prominent one was a creature that resembled a spider, yet not entirely. Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. the barbs along the extremities of the beast were misshapen, and looked more for rendering than anything else. A trail of acid lined it's maw, and I got close enough to lay a hand on the creature.
It was at that moment in time I thought of the Atalan. Their hunger to slay all the world above them, and their pursuit to find the power nodes the driving force. My mind drifted to what would happen should they enter this land, and walk amongst the demons. Would they even be able to walk? Would they be hunted and consumed like those who stood toe to toe with them, and lost? Or would the Atalan actually succeed in overthrowing even this land? Would their war be one for domination, or for survival? Would it be for both?
Then, as if a signal made itself present, I left. I began to walk back, when I spied the small door, an abnormality along the rock. Two swords, plunged into an obsidian-looking terrain, marking an entrance to something.
That something that I entered.
When I crossed that line, that transition... I knew exactly where I was. And the amount of danger I had allowed myself to be in, exceeding my own limit and comfort.
Still, I pushed on. At least, I wanted to. Two steps was as far as I got. A plate underneath my feet, and the almost undetectable shifting, the key unlocking the door which would nearly be my own downfall.
I saw the spark of light strike my body, and the result of it immediately twisting my mind. The horrors of the denizens screaming, beckoning me onward with smiles of deceit, and torment in my near future should I have done exactly as they asked.
What come forth, was a gut instinct, one that burned with the spark of desire to remain among the standing. I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could take me, back to the stairs that guided me down there to begin with.
Once I had emerged in Port, I had felt something. A presence, one that I had known before. Following me. Not one that spawned from the locale I just was. A scent that gave off something appeasing, perhaps welcoming. This presence walked with me, yet I refused to acknowledge it, at least until I allowed myself the comfort of being more prepared than I was for a confrontation, should one arise.
However, it halted it's progress once I made my way inside the small confines of home, the lounge milling about with it's usual occupants. I allowed myself to bask in the glory of walking where most should never walk, ever.
It was not until I was inside my room that I looked at the container of water that I had recovered from Nethar'u. It looked clear, crystallized to the touch of purity. Until I had smelled it. It reeked of iron. Blood.
The river I walked in... was a river of blood. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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Re: Pages inward.
Posted: 03 Sep 2007 11:33 PM |
She walked away from the tinkers in Buckshire that night with a different light in her deep green eyes. Her hips swayed lightly around the corners of the fences she skirted, the smile tugging at her lips more than the usual polite, courteous mask.
Tristian's veiled words were part of it, she thought. She'd put the pieces in place and by his words, he was still interested. Their talk on the hill had implied that perhaps her plan had gone awry. But even her warning of what she was had only brought reassurance from him, that she was not 'evil', that there was nothing wrong with her desires. She smiled at the thought of what he was unknowingly encouraging her in, even with the hints and warnings she'd given him. It was a delicious game...
Pausing by the little footbridge below her hill, she took out the small parchment from her belt pouch and unfurled it, smiling as she read over the words again. This certainly changed the plan as well. She'd promised Johe a week, and likely the writer of those sweet words would arrive for her before those days ended. And after that...she doubted she'd be spending time alone in the company of the hunter.
She pondered breifly how she might salvage what she'd put in place, falling to a cross-legged position in the grass and leaning against the back of the cliff, her red curls tossing in the wind against the deep brown soil. Then, she gave her head a shake, a soft sigh moving across her lips.
Her thoughts warred with themselves as she closed her eyes against the chill rain that started to fall, a shiver running over her body. The huntress within bid her to complete the walk with her chosen prey. Her heart thrilled with the manipulation of her plan, the coming together of her carefully laid path and the obvious interest nevertheless of the hunter. The long-fingered, graceful hands clenched in her lap as she hummed a soft note, her head tipping to push the back of it against the packed dirt behind her.
She tried to focus her mind away from those thoughts. Away from her assessment of those who she met everyday. Even those who seemed to know her best didn't see her for what she was. Even Johe had been shocked at her frank words to him, the darkness claiming her eyes after the funeral. She wasn't sure what he would do, and now, she wasn't sure what she wanted him to do. The letter, the flowers...changed things.
As the song turned dark, she finally rose to her feet, concealing herself to don her armor over her clothing. Checking her rapiers in their sheathes, she slowly moved down the hill and out of Buckshire, in search of prey. |
Trishy
Macha Sparrowsong - Song is my life
Coretta Alandar - Cleric of Midoran
Dekla Debena - whatever
Not all people who wander are lost.
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Prey and Predator.
Posted: 07 Sep 2007 11:41 AM |
The inn at Icy Vale had no windows on the second floor. This equated to denizens waking at odd hours: late at night, midday, or even sleeping for days on end. More often than not, tenants would find themselves heading downstairs to check out, and soon be confronted with an additional week of room and board due before they could even leave. Those that frequently stayed in Icy Vale for brief splashes of time, knew what and where the alternative was, and preferred not to chance their lives to the bitter cold in the outlying vicinity.
In one of these rooms, at precisely morning, a single eye opened up, watching nothing in particular. He lie on his stomach, an arm drooped over the side of the bed, the back of his hand grazing the wood floor below, scraping it of splinters or debris. His face was grounded into a pillow, and he had the look of a man who was too fatigued to do anything.
Nevermind the fact he ran from Gladden to the Ice Palace only hours beforehand.
Refusing to continue sleeping, he slowly shifted his weight, and sat up. The hand on his backside, a hand that belonged to someone else, slid off gently, dropping to the mattress without stirring the slumbering woman from her mild hibernation.
Tristian Vike stood, gathering his armor, nearly tripping on a large, furry bear that he had taken in, despite Miggin's warnings of eviction and additional fees. Malice looked up at him, an inquisitive look on the maw, to which Tristian responded by tapping his thigh. The bear stood, stretched, and moved out of the room as the hunter did, leaving the woman with the long hair and delicate features to her peaceful dreams.
In the hallway, Tristian found himself placing piece by piece of dark, charcoal-colored ringmail on, each link oiled down to not make sound upon movement. He slowly walked as he placed each strap in place, each buckle fastened just right for the best mobility it would allow. It wasn't until he managed to get outside, that the attire was complete, and the image of what many have known to be Tristian Vike complete. From there, he inhaled the air, and smelled something unexpected.
His follower was gone. The stalking presence with the unique smell that greeted him every morning he left his small home was no longer there. A blessing, he supposed, though through a quick act of mere suspicion allowed him to know full well who exactly was following him.
"What precisely does it smell of?"
"Well, of all the normal things, sweat, skin.... yours has... more earthen tones. Moss. Some sort of bark."
He almost did not want to believe it, but the woman named Macha was not in the nearby vicinity. She was not watching him, as she had done from time to time, making her visible presence unknown, but Tristian knew full well that she was nearby. Especially so after he was able to literally confirm his suspicions without ever accusing her. A trickle of a fragmented thought ran through his skull, allowing it to solidify much like the stalagmite of a cave; one that could fall with more weight applied.
Either she wasn't there... or she had learned to mask her own smell. He wanted to opt for the former, as her new husband had seemed to occupy her time. Her husband, which set off alarms, gongs, horns, bells, chimes, and banshees as alarms in his head. Claiming you like someone, and wanted something from them, only to proclaim about a marriage that was never even spoken of before? Not only was it odd, it reeked of something more vicious hidden within the confines of curiosity.
Tristian groaned. Macha had turned into the little rabbit, becoming no better than Kalid herself for her outright lies. The only person he wanted to discuss this with was Johe, and finding a Guyver was a hard enough task as it is. Johe and Tristian had both seemed fooled, and lied to. He was sure that with Mr. Jaxon's help, something would be formulated and done. Even if it wasn't for his own sake, but for Johe's.
The dripping of thought had finally had enough weight, and impacted the ground, shattering. It was time to see if she really was gone, and Tristian Vike moved to a place where her hiding from him would not save her. Something more haphazard, and a lot of danger for even existing in.
====================================================
Fenghuul. The illithid abode was much like Gladden crypt, with the echoing of anguish and suffering bouncing off of the walls, much like a greeting for those brave (foolish) enough to enter. Gazing to the lone hallway that led to abominations that killed with a stare, he cursed himself for deciding to come here, let alone risk the release of Deathdrinker. Despite the risk involved, and the certain death that was guaranteed the sword was released, a smile broke the even face of the hunter. If they really release a goddamn blade on a single person, then that says volumes about that person's power.
The words muttered, calling out to the god of creation to enable him to survive in this territory, alone. If the barddess were here, he felt she would not aid him, even if he should have to endure the worst fates.
His prayers reached out, found the god, and blessed the hunter with the might of the divine. He walked directly into the battlefield, found each illithid, and created battle, and victory. His reward, a supply of emeralds beyond the undead lich, were easily recovered, accumulated, and brought out of the cave. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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No better time than now
Posted: 11 Sep 2007 07:22 AM |
She’d written in her journal that she loved him. Telling it to him was an entirely different matter.
”Let’s go for a walk”, he says. They walk towards Gladden, Tristian a couple of steps ahead, Alis following. She stops, opens her mouth, but no words come out, and she resumes walking. Stops again, stays quiet. They reach the entrance of the mines and go inside, and there’s no longer room for the words that she had on the tip of her tongue.
Sounds of battle fill the air. She slashes away with her new blade, handed to her by him, constructed out of mithril. She's inexperienced but still efficient, and numerous cuts weaken her opponents until they fall down.
They go deeper.
Enemies get stronger.
Chaos.
Alis fights a losing battle against a mage. Tristian is swarmed by the warriors. He runs and Alis follows, trying to help him. Panic. Blood flows from their wounds. One final swing and she falls, words of prayer cut short by a blade piercing her chest. The last, horrified thought passing through her mind: I failed him! Then, nothing but darkness.
She wakes up elsewhere, screaming, arms flailing for the enemies that are no longer there. Disoriented, nauseous, aching all over. Tristian’s arms around her, his voice telling her to calm down. That they were safe. After a few moments, she realizes she's in Shalindra's refuge, in between Gladden and Icy Vale.
Suddenly, Tristian runs out. Alis finds him behind the corner, doubled over, coughing. His blood stains the snow. Pain from the wounds mixing with slowly decreasing adrenaline from his anger towards her aggressors. Roles are reversed as she tries to comfort him. Coughing ceases and he stands up, taking support from the wall. She looks deep into his eyes, and without any further thought or hesitation, the words finally come out.
”I love you, Tristian.”
They lean on each other, barely able to stand on their own. The world around them is quiet, peaceful. Snowflakes float down and the ground turns white again. |
IG character: Alis Rapidshill |
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No better time than now
Posted: 14 Sep 2007 06:18 PM |
(This post ties into Voidslaves.)
"I... I had no idea it was this serious." The woman paled, her face becoming a shade of white as Tristian explained the consequences of his attempt to confront the mirror in the lodge. She had covered her mouth with her hands, horrified at the fact that Tristian was compelled to work for her enemy, the enemy of the Mother, in order to save Salt and himself. He still had no idea what he was to retrieve, other than a gem of some kind, but the world was full of them. A specific one would more than likely be powerful, and well guarded.
Days later, he found himself at the chapel, deep within the abandoned city. No word from the Void yet. He wasn't sure when or where it was going to appear, if at all. Tristian's mind wandered to who might show up and be the bearer of ill-fortune.
Natika. Lord Valinor. A random creeper, acolyte, vampire, or vampiress. Rosen.
The last name left the hunter in a lurch. Would Rosen be willing to aid him in this? It was for her non-god, which meant they now actually had something to work together on. It wasn't his attempt to ask for her aid in the reclamation of Gladden: the Void cared little for the tribulations outside of the cursed circle. But this...Salt's words from days ago imprinted themselves in an alcove within a dark recess.
********************************************
"I wonder... she might be able to tell us what this gem is, and what value it holds for the Void."
Tristian looked back at Salt, moments after they had found they were to be pawns in the next game. "So long as you keep your insults to yourself, sure."
Salt placed his eyes back on the younger man, a gaze that could have melted the snows of Spirit Lake. "You know I would kill her. Do you not? It is something that gives me purpose, to recover the thing that she stole, and soiled with His touch..." Tristian nodded, understanding the magus' blight.
********************************************
Tristian set his gear down, began rationalizing off how long he could survive in this hallowed ground without having to return, though deciding that resting here would be better than residing. One meal a day meant he could stay here for fourteen nights, awaiting the ambassador. He thought about the last trip with the Void Knight, reaching a hand to a scar that ran vertically down one eye.
********************************************
He remembered the woman walking in, taking piece by piece of her black armor off, allowing herself what seemed to be a state of relaxation, albeit brief, within the confines of their trip up the mountain. "For a great while, I assumed that this was proof of something."
"And what was that?" The voice from a more brash, more arrogant Tristian Vike that did not fully appreciate the concept of having two eyes. But he will learn that lesson very soon.
"That light was essentially greater than darkness. I actually once functioned on those terms."
********************************************
With six days remaining in the timeline before a demand would be made, Tristian allowed himself the gluttony of consuming two meals, scarfing down hastily-prepared bread and grain before deciding to set his bag down, and rest, using four cloaks to shield himself from the unrelenting tile that the chapel offered.
It was now, that Tristian realized the truth in Rosen's speech. With all the nightmares and evils spread diversly and meticously across the land, he wondered just how true the Dark Knight really was. Inside that fragmented mind-shell, he wanted to see her again. To talk of these theories. Rosen could fight, but her conversations were much sharper than any blade she would ever wield. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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The toughest promise to keep.
Posted: 22 Sep 2007 08:12 PM |
The (former) Rapidshill home.
"Just... don't die on me, okay?"
The male nodded. "I'm working on it." There were other dilemmas in the way before he could confirm that statement. The Void. The Avatar of War. The Atalan. And now, the Durgazon. Along with whatever else he would find.
That night.
Tristian was in the middle of his journey back to Icy Vale. With the presence of the rider in Swiftdale, the time needed to venture from North Vives to South Vives was cut by nearly three-quarters. The horses she provided were well groomed, accustomed to the terrain, and did not have the intention of throwing the rider off in the middle of the desert.
He had come to a complete stop in the southern part of Brandibuck, when he had walked upon a trio of males: Talion, Amon, and a slightly larger man, attired in the colors of the Artisi.
"There's the face of a man I have not seen in a long time... how have you been Cedrych?" Tristian found himself smiling. A man who actually held a world of information was visible, and standing across the road. There would be a great deal of discussion between the Paladin and the Priest. Information that would lead to a lot of insight, which was something Tristian needed greatly at this point.
Amon quickly departed after greetings were passed around, which led Talion to drive right into the next topic.
"Amon said the snake people have been active in their temple and with a beholder as well." Amon had little reason to be deceitful regarding this, so it warranted a look between the now three men. When they had managed to sail north from the Aegea, and move into the swamp, they found their first surprise of the night.
A wrymling, but not of any color Tristian had ever seen before.
This one was black in color.
A quick search of the temple yielded nothing, and with Cedrych departing soon after that, it left the wizard-warrior and the battle-priest alone to scour the swamp. When they made arrival of the temple further in the swamp, they had a brief encounter with snakes, Tristian numbing from the toxins of various venoms, with Talion coming to a quick aid. Another black wrymling lied in wait, though it was felled quickly. As they made an advance to depart, the ground rippled, leaving Tristian to crouch low, attaining a center of gravity, while Talion used his staff as a crutch until the mini-quake had stopped. With some debate, Tristian urged forward to check out the ruins.
A ritual. One that was quickly disturbed when one of the lizard-types spotted Tristian standing right next to them, and raised the alarm for the others. A mess of battle broke out, leaving Tristian dealing with a Sslissayath, who did nothing to defend herself from the attacks. Tristian held his blade, and after a brief standoff, the woman sliced her own throat.
Talion summarized the situation very easily. "...Ok. I'm going to with a longshot here and say we just did something bad." He moved to the large book that the woman was reading out of, stepping over the body, envisioning her as a trap of her own devices.
"Can't say for certian, the runes are in an odd form but I'd be surpised if it doesn't have something to do with dragons. It's lizard... or draconic, but the dragon symbol just seems... wrong somehow."
Some more deliberation. A decision to venture forward, heading down.
As they made their way down, a warm, fetid breeze at a regular pace greeted them.
Something large was breathing. The breath was trickling down the hallway giving them a blast of an air that is usually reserved for summer heat waves.
Both humans rounded the corner, to find something entirely new. It was a dragon, as they had expected. One that towered stories above them, and charcoal black, two massive horns running from what could be considered a forehead, coming out just over the eyes.
Talion's response was "Greetings." The dragon's response was a spell aimed at the wizard. Tristian's was massive attempts to stab and swing, using time and the fury of stolen arcane magic at his side.
Somehow, the dragon fell.
More talk between the two men. The passage to the Sslissayath city was blocked off by some boulders. Talion offered to destroy the boulders, thinking that the recent activity would cease. Tristian agreed to it, and Talion crumbled the makeshift wall.
They looked into the dark passage. An at first quiet, then steadily increasing sound of something much, much larger was moving down that shaft.
Both men stared at each other, as the Deep Dragon walked into the room.
Ten seconds later.
Tristian watched Talion ward himself up, preparing for what both men knew best. Neither man knew exactly what it was, other than a purple dragon.
"You're going to fight it."
This time, it was Talion who made the advance. "Sure. Its just a dragon." As the thing finally decided to lurch forward, and greet the two, is when Talion completed his last spell, and activated his robes.
Tristian blinked. The dragon was dead.
Some time later, the Cross Cutlasses.
Staring into the large tankard of ale that was before him, a bewildered face had clamped onto the face of the hunter. Many thoughts rang through his head. The most prominent one being that he may not keep his promise, if he kept walking into trouble like that. A sigh escaped in between lifts of the glass.
He kept his promise so far. Tristian Vike wondered how long he could hold it, as the empty mug made a small tone of impact on the table before standing, and departing for the icy wastes. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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So close, and yet...
Posted: 29 Sep 2007 12:57 PM |
The place was greatly fortified. Tristian Vike had to backtrack several times, just so he didn't capture the attention of the giants who were guarding the fortress. The oozes and dragons saw through his cloak of illusions, and chased the hunter until he turned and faced them, opting to take each target one on one, rather than all at once. It was a simple tactical move, one that required a lot of patience. The span was only from the outer wall to the front doors, no bigger than the distance between the Broken Mask's entrance to where the Eel stood.
Inside, Tristian took his time, and looked around, even letting his optical fading slide off, and walk around rather plainly visible. The hunter had one thing on this place: he was here before. The guardians were much different, and instead of fierce Tarikians and flying books that summoned dragons, he got more of the same that was outside.
Heading down the steps, he smelled a very fine tract of dogs, and upon moving further in, he found a kennel of the snow hounds. Those hounds didn't need to see Tristian, to know he was there, and made him pay for it with icy breath and massive blankets of white obscuring his vision. He was running in a snowstorm from twelve different angles, and was the focus of that storm. Slowly, but surely, the hounds were slain, along with the keeper.
More searching led him to find something entirely out of place: a human male housed in a storeroom, with plenty of alcohol and nothing to do. The stench on his breath made Tristian gag as he walked up and introduced himself, and inquired as to what he was doing here.
After having to sit through a few ramblings, he learned a few things. The thing that ran this place was called the Jarl.
The Jarl. Where Talion had obtained a sword, and gave it to Rosen. Rosen had offered it to Tristian, opting for a blade that illuminated a reddish tint when it was drawn.
The same blade Xaranthir had gone to collect, on his own, and shown off to a select few in Brandibuck some time ago, Tristian being one of them. And now...
"Only th' Jarl 'imself or 'is pet has th' key." The male who identified himself as Ruli shuddered. Clearly these were not things to be trifled with, pet and master. Tristian learned about the dilemma that the Jarl might be challenged for his throne, as the creature maybe spent too much time a female companion, and not with his fellow militia.
The hunter cracked a smile under the helm. It always works like that. He bid the man farewell, but not before taking the time to sit himself down, and rest for a brief moment in his abode, his insight drawing Vastaldoriun's gift back to him.
Steps later, he had found the pet. He remembered the place well. It was the same alcove that Sanna had released a demon to aid in the rescue of the group, the same demon that still ran amok Vives with his posse of abominations, and had tackled a black dragon on his own. In the place of that charcoal colored one, was a white one. And twice as huge.
Tristian, with his odd timing, spend a moment to contemplate how such a massive creature could navigate such a narrow hallway without making the fortress collapse in on itself. Some sort of structural integrity was mandatory for such a place like this.
Then the thing bellowed, clearly sensing a human taint within the confines of his little cavern, which broke the concentration of the hunter, and led him to attempt again at breaking his promise to Alis.
He allowed the artisan to shield him, drew his hammer and blade, and charged.
============================
Journal notes: 29th Herialdi of Myridarre, 1003 SD
Much has come to my light since the last entry. Salt is corrupted by some fragment of the Void, and he fears that I am still tainted, though I am certain I removed every aspect of the nothing out of my body. I hate to admit it, but I fear he may be correct, and some fragment may yet be left behind. If that is the case, then the Void has effectively taken me out of all proceedings regarding MY stone. Kind of a paradox, since they want me to get MY stone, yet taint me with their aspect. It does not matter, as I am sure I do not have any taint, and I will get that stone at any cost.
A few projects are nearing completion, though the most important one requires adamantium from the same mines that my stone is located in. As soon as I have my stone, I will begin mining and creating my unique masterpiece. All I need is to enchant the ore. The emeralds and sapphires are already within my possession.
I have come across the location of the Jarl, and a possible replacement for my blade which was confiscated so long ago by Vestlat. And now, I have the key to the place where he spends time with his lady, who is rumored ~though likely untrue~ to be Helkris herself. I anticipate the battle ahead, and the possibility to recover my blade of old, simply to walk amongst the lands with it once again.
However, I must depart for Port Royale, as I have an appointment with Lady Aquesti, regarding a piece of dwarvish lore, and a translation that needs addressing. What else might be discussed will be interesting, as it seems to drift that way every time we have the opportunity to speak. Despite Salt's commands to not speak to her, she has a multitude of information at her fingertips. The only questions is how to procure that knowledge.
-V |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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More dangerous asleep
Posted: 17 Oct 2007 12:49 PM |
The bitter taste was mud. The compounded dirt, mingled with water, leaving that swampy feeling, was left on the tastebuds of the tongue. The face was resting, an open mouth to allow the intake of oxygen to his lungs.
A mangled multitude of hair draped over the visage in the dirt, the body face down, pressed into the ground only a bit, marks made from resting.
A singular eye opened up, seeing nothing at first, then realizing that his location was not in Johe's store. Which meant that his "companion" of a worm decided to take him on a walk. He was sure he would have to get up, and explaint to his captors that he was not in control of his own mind, and he was sleepwalking.
Like they would buy that excuse.
Tristian's skull lifted an inch off of the ground, when he felt the rain on his back. The hunter pondered for a moment why he was not in his armor, then came to the conclusion he got his "walk" during the middle of the night. Now he has to explain to the Port guards why his half=naked body was moving around the lower districts in the middle of the night. A groan escaped his voicebox. Something else to add to the already wonderful day.
Then he heard the sounds of shuffling feet. He assumed it would be one of his assailants, captors, or torturers, assigned to watch him until he woke from whatever state of rest he was in.
The headframe lifted more, and he saw those feet.
Bone. Nothing but skeletal framework. Undead, whose legs had halted at the movement of the hunter, turning to him as he slowly pushed his arms straight, lifitng the upper half of his body from the ground.
The male in ragged, tattered pants planted his bare feet on the ground, while the skeletal agent, greatsword and all, dropped to a knee.
This was the unexpected. It was protecting him while he slept. As he rose, the commanded creature looked up to him, awaiting his instruction. Tristian's eyes moved about, looking at his surroundings, getting a locale from the-
Bowness. He was past Brandibuck. The thing was leading him farther and farther away from the city, and closer and closer to the place it wants him to be. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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Leap of...
Posted: 29 Nov 2007 01:49 PM |
His walk into the Bloodwood had been for training purposes. Still in armor, yet with no weapons drawn, and not making any attempt at hiding his presence from those that roamed. No helm was donned on his head, no expenditure of the divine that Vastaldoriun blessed him with. His walks was simple, almost casual, as he pondered over what had been transpiring in that mind of his. Unable to stay in the Guyver store for too long, he ventured south for periods of time, wishing only to drive his training, his skills into something greater than what he already was.
And yet, something else spawned, proving to be much more than a distraction than he originally intended it to be. The thought, the concept, of what he possibly might do, began to dominate his mindframe, stopping the hunter in his tracks, and shifting his glance to the ground, in an attempt to place more brain-matter into the subject.
The ettin saw him, and charged, bringing his club down moments too late, feeling the resounding snap of bone in it's left leg, both heads wailing in pain until the same two human hands that dropped it, silenced the being permanently. Tristian felt a little satisfied with himself; his lack of combat in the recent days had not diminished his ability to drop, and defend.
And yet, the fragment of what he was thinking of still lingered. Delitia was the first, and Kalid almost became the second. Though he knew the elve to be of darker descent, learning about who she was when it was well too late for him to reclaim her. She had already made up her mind, and only when the Vike had shown himself to be leading down a more righteous path, she wished re-belonging in his life.
He sighed, the weighted dreadlocks swaying from side to side. Had things been slightly different, the possibility that he would still be where he was seemed uncertain, to say the very least. Kalid and him had their times, with the addled bit of humor diluted into what they were, though eventuality, and truth arose from all of this, along with the looming threat of a bardess now long gone.
All these options, so many different paths that could have been traveled. Yet, the Artisan's Faithful had come to this point in time, and that action that he almost done with Kalid now sprung into his mind once more. Though the blue-haired elve was not the subject of contemplation. Instead was a brown-haired human female. Eyes like emeralds, and a voice of reason and kindness. The thought of Alis was one that comforted him, leaving the hunter with a placid tone in his activities.
Tristian felt something else, as well. A counter to Alis, a looming shade of hallow ichor that was capable of though, and corruption. Something that burned within him, something he now could feel, the way Salt was capable of perceiving the dark creeper. He was bound to this thing, and as long as the hunter knew this fact, he would not dare doing anything drastic.
He decided to halt his training for now, and leave, seeing if Fredo had anything worth trading. Upon leaving, he spied a woman crossing the bridge to the south, and everything seemed to be shut out, leaving her, and her alone to think of. His step quickened until the distance was closed, the two embracing after some time of not seeing each other.
=============================
Days before
There was nothing special about his latest make, save for the fact it was all taken by his own person, from the most dangerous of places. The emeralds from Fenghuul, along with the mithril, which was right now, being heated to make a band. He had measured out how wide the radius would be so long ago, he nearly lost it, and would have to figure out some way to re-obtain the finger size.
Thankfully, he would not have to endure the slight humiliation, and continued with his mundane ring. Though there was nothing magical about it, he poured all of his will and thought into it. This would be his greatest work.
All for her.
=============================
"You? Wanting to go to Maldovia?" Tristian was addled on the aspect of her actually wanting to visit that dark island.
"Well, I don't really want to but I'll do it if it'll make a difference."
Tristian smiled, looking the woman into her eyes. "We can make a trip there, yes. But... can you do me a favor first?"
"Sure."
"I..." Hesitation. "Uh..." Panic. She continued to look, and wait for him to say something, when he looked at the her, with a slight smile, trying to hide something. "I... need these robes re-enchanted."
Unsure by his delayed response, she gave him a ponderous, quizzical glance, one eye narrowing. "Err, sure."
Tristian began digging through his tangle of bags, each of them organized so that he knew exactly where each object he needed was at a certain time, yet seemed unable to find what he was looking for this time. This, coupled with his skittish reaction, prompted the druid of Elbereth to finally respond. "Right. And what else?"
Caught, Tristian felt the lines of sweat formulating on his brow, the sliding of the expunged water gracefully dance down his face, until it jumped, plunging in a leap of faith to the ground below. "Alis..."
Whether or not she seemed frightened, she looked at the male, her lover, with an air of concern, unsure of why a normally direct and to-the-point man was having trouble speaking. "Are you all right, Tris?"
Tristian suddenly stood tall, proud. He remembered, knowing that he had a hand crafted masterpiece in the palm of his hand. He knew that eventually, he would have to do this sometime, that he had been thinking about it, debating it, meticulously pondering the implications of such a thing.
Tristian lowered his head, letting one knee buckle, driving itself into the ground softly, the other bending in conjunction. His left hand raised to the same height of his face, and opened his hand, showing the woman the mithril band, the emerald set inside of it, a perfect hue that matched her irises. He looked up to see her jaw extend, as if in shock from what he has done, noticing that her chest has stopped swelling in and out, a lack of breathing.
Tristian called her by the name she was born with, not the name she had taken from her first husband. The man who had gone and departed, leaving Alis to fend for her own. Leaving, so that this could happen in the first place.
"Alis Frye, will you be my wife?"
Her breathing resumed as she needed the oxygen to speak. "I... uh..."
Clarity.
"Yes!" |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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Re: Leap of...
Posted: 21 Jun 2008 12:04 PM |
The warm tea had soothed his scratchy throat, lingering down to his stomach, a multitude of sensations coming from something so simple. Comfort, warmth, relaxation; all of them pushing up to register in Tristian's mind. With another deep sip, he emptied the contents, standing up from the small cushioning around the center of the tent, before treading to the door.
It was not daybreak yet; that would transpire in about a half-hour's time, with the peaking of the sun, that was currently lodged behind the snow caps due east of here. In that cold, bitter land, Tristian wrapped the cloak around him, using the flexible barrier from the snows that continued their incessant downpour.
So much time away, and so many questions still left to answer. The mind wracked with the amount of things that had happened to him; from Salt hiring him as his woodsman, to leading an army against M'Gok Tukar, when it was under Durgazon rule. The Void, with it's cursed entities, one of which was hosted in the body, now seemingly dormant. Oh, how that could change in an instant.
Perhaps that was his greatest fear: allowing the thing to manifest at the time when he was needed most, to become a hindrance instead of an asset. Such fear, and the actions that seemed likely if such were to happen, were what caused this elongated stay in the Aecini compound now. Telling Alis was not easy; he merely said he had to go, and not put her in harm's way. Her protest was there, but she knew exactly the necessity of it. He promised his return to her, to the land that he had called home.
Naturally, Tristian's mind began to wander.
To Salt, the father he never had, whom had taken him in, when all others would not.
To Vrodo, the brother that he would give all for, no matter his decision.
To Johe, the friend that always smiled, no matter how difficult the mountain climb was.
To Emma, the apology he never managed to muster, and the forgiveness he sought.
To Balthor, and the advice that kept him either sane, or on track of the goal.
To Talion, for knowing exactly how to endure, and strive forward.
To Rosen, for showing Tristian what corruption was, and introducing him to what he now knew, he never wanted.
More names followed. Macha, Kalid, Amon, Ophelia, Katrina, Alton, Bereil, Shihaya'zad, Evanna, Isa...
One name haunted him, one name made his teeth grit, eyes slightly narrowing in the concept of what was only told to him by others, and never by the source. Answers were impossible, which made redemption for her, were it true, even more so.
I am not done.
Helping to carry logs into the tent, Tristian made his notification that he would be departing with the sun's rise. Being told his aid and assistance were welcome, he about-faced, marching outside to face the bitter cold once more.
It was here, he dropped to a knee, a hand going to the silvery medallion that adorned over his armor, bright enough to gleam as the sun now shot the first rays of morning over the winterly sky.
My Lord Vastaldoriun, please give me the fortitude to endure all that greets me in the days ahead. May all that I do be in your image, a perfection of a craft, may that perfection be in all I create in your name.
Rising, he clasped the helm once more, and took off, once more, to see those he remembered. |
Tristian and Elghinn.
NWN logon =UltimatiumOmega
Lost item: Fire Bomb
Tristian Vike damages Erin: 19 (19 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Tristian Vike: 7 (7 Fire)
Tristian Vike damages Kard Snyder: 10 (10 Fire) |
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