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The Road to Maldovia
Posted: 05 Apr 2004 12:12 AM |
The situation was, after all, ironic.
Loccard found himself a prisoner of Xaranthir for three days now. He had not stopped staring at the wall for the entire time. And why should I make it easy for them, he thought maliciously.
His mind went over the events of three days prior. He has been in Midor again, searching for the monk. After Aloria, he knew that Sinjin would make a fine target. And in the guise of the paladin, Loccard knew that he would not be distrubred. He thoguht he was safe. He thought he was safe, but he was wrong.
The monk, Luther, had wanted a word with Mykal. How pathetic. These mortals still thing there is a chance to save this one. Loccard cursed inwardly, but maintained a neutral demenior.
As it turned out, Luther had spoken with Anandur, the capitain of the Midoran guard, who had agreed that Mykal should be imprisioned for his own and others protection. At this point, Loccard gave pause. He could have tried to kill the monk, but doing so in the public streets of Midor would be inviting a death even the immortality of Syn could not prevent. Loccard choose discression and went willingly with Luther into the Midor Law Courts.
The monk did not stay long, and soon Loccard was alone in his cell, awaiting Anandur.
He smiled, the first expression to cross his face since his imprisinment in Dias's tower. I should like to have seen the expresion of Luther the following morning. The door's lock was easy enough to open, but I especially enjoyed the satisfying crack the guards necks made as I snapped them one by one.
Unfortunately, his escape meant that he could no longer walk freely using the paladin's form. He would be a fugitive now, thought Loccard. Useless for my purposes.
He sought solitude to consider his next action, and soon found himself on the Great Plains. He needed time to think; to plan his next move. It seemed like luck was on his side, however, when he noticed Sinjin, sitting alone by a campfire.
Loccard approached silently, knowing that the monk had no chance of noticing his approach. He drew his sword, a dark blade given to him by his lord. He pauses directly behind the monk and allowed himself a slow smile. It was always good to savor the moment before the kill, especially when your quarry did not know what was comming.
The dark man struck quickly, but Sinjin's reflexes boarded on premonition. The monk turned quickly, using his forearm to strike the blunt end of the blade away. He dodged at the same time, avoiding the dagger Loccard kept in his left hand.
Loccard snarled and attacked again. Time to end this. At that moment, and arrow flew through the air, stricking Loccard squarly in the back. At the same time, a blast of powerful magic tore at his chest, knocking the vampire back several steps.
Ambush!
But by then, it was too late. Several figures appeared out of the darkness, attacking Loccard with magic, arrows, and blades. He stumbled to the ground when Luther tackled him. Any mortal would have been killed many times over by the ferocity of the groups attack. But Loccard was as far from normal as he was from mortal. Vampires of Syn do not fall so easily.
The attack ceased when they realized that Loccard would not die. The group gathered around him as a tall mage with a long staff, tipped with a blue stone, walked forward.
Dias...the master warned me of him
The interrogation on the Plains was long and, in the end, mostly fruitless. Loccard was forced to play his only trump card. He knew, as Dias now knew, that the life of the paladin was intertwined with the vampire's exsistance. If Loccard died, so would Mykal. That fact alone stayed Dias's hand, or so Loccard believed.
Dias, curse his name. He calls himself by a different name now, and he may truely be a new person. But to us, to me, he is still filthy Dias.
It was Sinjin, surprisingly, that came up with the solution that would save Loccard's life. At the monk's suggestion, Loccard agreed to lead a small group to infiltrate Moldovia in search of the paladin. In exchange, Loccard would be released unharmed. Of coures, the vampire did not trust his captors, and he imagined they trusted them even less. The arrangement, however, was sealed by their mutual need. Without Loccard, the paladin would surely die. And if Mykal died; Loccard would not be far behind.
The trick, of course, would be to keep the betrayal from his master's knowlege. Loccard had played these games before, though the stakes on board the Archon's Gambit were far less then when dealing with his current master. His master knew how to cause suffering even to a vampire, that was far beyond death.
He continued to stare at he wall, his meticulous mind going over every possible scenario. He would find a way to make it back to Moldovia alive. And if possible, he would ensure that Mykal Vecar and his friends would never return.
Xaranthir appeared in a burst of light. He will want to question me again. thought Loccard. He shall no no luck. Still, the vampire had not said a word since he had arrived despite Xanarthir's various means of insistance.
At least I still have control over one portion of this game, he thought grimly, I shall decide when it begins. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 05 Apr 2004 01:48 AM |
At least I still have control over one portion of this game, he thought grimly, I shall decide when it will begin
That last line made me laugh... It just goes to show that you cannot keep a good bad-guy down.
- Paul |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
--
<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 05 Apr 2004 06:52 AM |
Maldovia… the word had as much appeal to me as arm wrestling with a pit fiend.
~~~
Sinjin, Sirac, Solitaire, Thomas and others had finally captured the elusive Loccard. When I arrived he lay already bound on the ground, firmly held by Sinjin and Sirac. What surprised me the most at that time was not the fact that Loccard was finally apprehended, but that he greeted me as Dias. I suppose most people still know me as Dias, but I was absolutely positive that I had never met this man. So he must have heard of me some months ago.
Loccard was grievously wounded, any normal person would be on the brink of death, yet there he lay smiling smugly. The others questioned him but no answers were forthcoming. And finally I understood. Loccard was indeed a vampire, but a rare breed, for how many vampires can walk under the light of the sun and live? And where vampires were concerned, it usually involved the Count. So this was where he got my old name from. Valinor had told him something about Dias. At the same time I realised he was a vampire and a proxy of the count, my blood started to churn inside my body. It fed my rage, my anger and yet I had to stay my hand.
May he be thrice cursed! I had no doubt that what he told us was true. Harming him would only harm Mykal. But how much was I willing to let go in order to save this paladin I didn’t even know? I finally had a vampire in my grasp, away from their cursed lands! If Darastrix had so much as left a smaller portion of his evil self inside me, my resolve to keep him alive would have waned and Loccard would be suffering a thousand deaths, over and over. However, Dias prevailed and the vampire would remain alive… for now. But how to coalesce information out of someone or something that has nearly nothing to lose?
Fri’el once told me that her Lord Gukathul saw vampires as perversions and I knew she delighted in torturing them. I suppose that the Lord of Death is interested in souls and as vampires have none, they must be abominations in his eyes. It was a gamble but I whispered to Loccard that if he did not tell us what we needed to hear, if he did not tell us that his unlife would be forfeit. In no uncertain terms I told him that I would deliver him into the clutches of Gukathul. Perhaps he’s a very good actor, but his smug smile quickly left his face.
What we found out next didn’t exactly make me any happier. Loccard and Mykal were connected. Part of the paladin’s soul was now sealed away inside the vampire. Sinjin called him a day-walker and that is most likely what Mykal’s soul has allowed him to become: the ability to withstand the rays of the sun. The vampire compared himself and Mykal to a bottle of wine and one of water. Once they are both mixed, the wine becomes less potent and most importantly: it’s impossible to unmix them, unless magic is used. And this is where I fear my ability lacks. The ritual used to trap part of a paladin’s soul and store it into an empty vessel that is a vampire is beyond my understanding. Nay, that’s not correct. I know –of- the ritual, but I am unable to perform it. Or would unwilling be a better term? Unlike mind melds which have been forbidden due to the inherent danger involved for both parties, this ritual has been forbidden because of its utter vileness. To tamper with a human soul in such a way will leave a mark on one’s own soul. I am neither willing nor ready for that.
This leaves us only one possibility… the one who performed the ritual must undo it. But how far can Loccard be trusted? And he knows that I am afraid of going into Maldovia and meeting Count Valinor, just as much as he fears that I would turn him into the hands of Gukathul’s faithful. But once we’re in Maldovia how much is my threat worth? He’ll be once more under the protection of Syn, unless…
I suddenly grinned. Yes, of course, why not? If I do meet with the Count, Loccard may be in for a surprise. Count your days Loccard, there may be few left. Perhaps you ought to consider Blanche’s words. Revoke her words and I’ll make you regret ever having messed with mortals!
I took a last look inside my safehold where the vampire was still watching the walls. Lets see who you fear most, -Mr. Loccard-. He must have felt the scrying for he looked at me, with his bloodred eyes. I waved my hand and the image disappeared. Dias may have been easy prey to the mind powers of the Count of even lesser vampires, but I was no longer Dias and it would take Syn’s interest in the matter at hand to read my mind now.
For the first time I smiled. The fact that I may witness a vampire trembling with fear satisfied me enormously. They’ll pay yet for what they did to Dias…. |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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The Road to Maldovia...
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 03:48 AM |
Brushing Blanche’s hair has always been a nightmare to Arian. Not tied up, flowing freely on her back, her white hair was falling to the floor. Blanche has never been able to brush them alone, it was literally too long. Therefore, Arian and Blanche, once every two days, were brushing together her white hair, as light as silk. They didn’t speak during that time, only thinking and smiling to each other.
“Maldovia...the place of the void. How can I enter it...oh yes I can enter, and I can die at the first step too... Everyone I’ve spoken to about this told me that it was a dangerous place, that there was a count –Valinor- there... Even mister Xaranthir is afraid of him... I am not that afraid of this place, I am sure that I would die if I go there...
I’ve spoken to Loccard the day before he was captured. Actually I guessed that he was in Mykal’s body, or in Mykal’s soul...I remember the face of “Mykal”, frowning and turning around, telling me to wait so that he could tell me the truth. I thought at this moment that I was gone insane. Although I was ready to die, just to know what was happening. I waited a long time, and mister Balthor waited with me a moment (and another dwarf, miss Gemme I think) until that mister Loccard showed himself. He made me sick. Literally... My stomach was aching, my hands were shaking... But I wanted to know. We went in the sewers after I told mister Balthor that I would be alright... The sewers were a perfect place to let a body I thought at that time. But I told him something that even I was surprised...Redemption. Redemption for a vampire? Redemption for someone who pointed his dagger on my throat? Why not...After all, compassion and redemption are close. And he looked at me...I was sure he was thinking really of, at least, let his grasp of Mykal. He put his sword on my back, and I was so sure I was about to die... No, I wasn’t ready to die. I thought I was ready, but no. I was so scared that I cried like a baby...no, not like a baby but it was pretty close. Still, he did not kill me. Does that mean that I touched him? That I was able to move him so that he was in doubt with his destiny?...maybe at that time yes, but the day after, it wasn’t the same.
I do not know who or what or how it happened, but when I arrived in the Great Plains, Sinjin was threatening mister Loccard, and people (A little halfling, miss Solitaire, mister Sirac, mister Xaranthir, another halfling, mister Aesir, maybe others, I can’t recall them, nor when they arrived.) were around and asking him questions. I didn’t follow all of them, I was too sick at that moment... I was sure he wasn’t the vile man they thought...I was naive, like always. When they decided that they would bring him somewhere, I told him it was time to repent...he didn’t answer. It was worse than his dagger on my throat. They conducted him to that place and I stayed there. I remember mister Aesir asking me if I was alright. I was probably looking awful. I told him that yes...and those words... He told me that I was too...perfect...to understand them. I wanted to save this vampire....Which is true. But what is so perfect in that? Shouldn’t everyone who wants to be saved have the chance to? What is so...perfect in my way of speaking? I know that most of the people I have spoken to doesn’t want to hurt me, even the greatest enemy...But what is so ... perfect? Maybe I am just lucky, after all...
I remember that when I entered Midor with mister Aesir (he helped me to get to the city, he is so kind!) Mister Xaranthir wanted to speak to me about mister Loccard. I was surprised, after all everything was finished with mister Loccard... I followed him to the temple and we spoke about what happened, the dagger, the redemption speech... My will to live... He told me that he was afraid too of this mister Valinor... That not everyone can be redeemed... Still, I wasn’t able to hate that vampire. Why can’t I hate, I remember I asked mister Xaranthir. He told me too that I was too...pure, that I had to be proud I could not hate... Too pure.... Does that mean too naive to see the truth? He also told me that, if miss Fri’el has to be redeemed, I was the only one able to do it... How can that be? Who am I to be able to do such a task? I am only a cleric –soon to be priestess I hope!!!- of Midoran, someone who is not even able to take a sword to defend herself. Someone who...yes I was bitten by badgers. That one I didn’t even say it to Arian. I still have my dignity. But I am no adventurer...I do not own great power...”
Arian finished her side of the hair. A huge relieved sigh and a smile appeared on her face. Still, Blanche was thinking...
OOC:
Feedback welcome :) |
Frodo : What are we holding on to, Sam?
Sam : That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.
-The Two Towers |
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Re: The Road to Maldovia...
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 03:57 AM |
*OOC*
Very nice story Nessa. Good to see Blanche's point of view on the whole matter. :) |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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Re: The Road to Maldovia...
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 11:04 AM |
((very nice. the two halflings in the story: i am Sai Barris -- the one with the penchant for tying knots around Loccard's ankles....the other, who read her book while most of this was happening, is Soapie Nimblefingers. Silly biggers can never keep us right-sized straight in their memories. If Sai wasn't used to it by now, he'd be offended ^_^.))
-Sai Barris |
Sai Barris, Scamp-at-Large
Cynda LeRange, Reporter, Port Royale
Parson Droim Raine, Preacha o da Word o Swiftfoot |
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 12:04 PM |
He had not moved in days. Or was it weeks? By now the passage of time was an indistinct blur to his consciousness. The physical world hardly existed any more. Rather, he lived in a world of thought and pain. But Mr. Loccard had not come for several days, no one had, and his wounds were burning with fierce infections.
There it is again. The white light hovered at the corner of his eye, just as it had many times since Mr. Loccard’s last session. At first, what remained of his conscious mind took the light to be a hallucination. But as time wore on, that became less and less likely. Sometimes the light would appear in his peripheral vision, causing him to doubt his own sanity. But other times it appeared directly above him, lighting up the dismal dungeon. It was at these times he was able to draw himself back fully. It was as if the light helped to anchor his mind to the present. The nightmare images of Mr. Loccard were blocked when the light was fully present.
Sometimes, the paladin would fall asleep, and when he did it was as if he cold still see the light. When that happened, he did not dream, nor did Mr. Loccard intrude upon his mind. When he would awake, the light would vanish, making him again question his sanity. But sleep, combined with the food and water he occasionally received, had kept him alive.
He remembered someone, what was his name? A monk that had first taken him into the vampires home. He strained, but his memory failed him. All he knew is that he loved the monk as a brother. Where is he, he wondered idly.
And what about her….what was her name? He strained, knowing that the memory was important. A singer….with the voice of a sparrow…. He loved her, right? Why hasn’t she come for me? I am ready to go now. He concentrated and was able to bring an image of her to his mind. For a second, he remembered, but even that memory slipped away.
Other memories assaulted him, some of names and faces he recognized. He remembered Bronwyn, how her soft form and lively laugh had guided the first steps of manhood. He thought of Blanche, his sister now, and grieved over what she had to endure in his absence. And for some strange reason, he clearly remembered Gasher, the noble man whom Mykal wished he could have known better.
His mind wandered.
“I wonder where Rean is,” he wondered allowed. Sweat poured from his brow as fever and infection began to take over. “It should be time for harvest.” Rean was always late with chores, and Mykal was no better. “Father is going to be very angry with us…” He trailed off, babbling incoherently save a few audible, non-senseical words.
Infection can go deeper then the physical. When the physical is bound closely to the spiritual, as Mr. Loccard and Mykal were bound, what affects the body physically will also affect the soul. Mr. Loccard had not visited Mykal in four days, and the spell was becoming tainted, as were Mykal’s wounds. The long, vicious cuts delivered by Mr. Loccard's blade remained open. The infection had caused the wounds to ooze as they grew red and hot. Mykal’s breathing had become labored as the infection spread. In the end, the paladin would die. Only his natural resistance to disease, a gift granted by Midoran to all of his paladins, prevented the infection from spreading faster.
But Mykal’s immunity to disease was faulty due to Mr. Loccard’s intervention. He would be dead soon, his resistance only prolonged the process. Deep down, Mykal knew that death was close. Every time he saw the white light he fully expected death to claim him. Perhaps I am dying, he thought in an exceptionally lucid moment. Perhaps the light is a way for me to release myself into Midoran’s hands. And so he prayed, his faith renewed in his darkest hour. But he did not pray for salvation, rather, he prayed for redemption.
At that moment, with infection coursing through his veins, the paladin accepted that he would die. His focus changed from praying for a rescue to praying for his soul. He now understood that the suffering and pain he had endured had cleansed him.
For the first time since his family had been slaughtered, Mykal no longer felt the need for atonement. He had atoned for his past sins, and his debts were repaid. He smiled, his cracked lips splitting with the unfamiliar action.
No more will the pain of life shackle me, nor the Dark One’s threat bind me. Death can come, but it will not claim my soul. I await it eagerly, knowing that in death I will be justified.
"I am ready to go now," he whispered
A white light, appearing as an amorpherous cloud, floating over Mykal. It stretched along the length of the paladin, enveloping him. His breathing became shallow, and his heart rate slowed.
A single tear fell.
And with that, the paladin released his spirit. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 12:45 PM |
***OOC
Mykal, Phoenix, Nessa... great posts all! Thanks for sharing.
*** |
Three sisters, born of the Sea
A sad fate t'was in store for thee
Oh Vaisha, Vahlah and Vallaesha |
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 12:59 PM |
OOC
I'm speechless...a beautiful and moving story. I think I'll go cry hysterically now....
Trishy |
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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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 06 Apr 2004 03:08 PM |
*wipes Machas eyes with his sleeve*
OOC: dagnabbit Mykal. Live dang you! Live! |
Humbly Submitted,
Sinjin Kane |
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 08 Apr 2004 09:47 AM |
The wind blows…
Across the Steppes of darkness
On the path of the Void
Over blighted lands
Whipping by the ravaged.
To the castle, once proud
Before the coming of evil
Stripped it of all brilliance
And laid waste the family
Removing hope from the land.
The wind blows…
Through the empty corridors
Where life does not shine
Containing signs and portents
Of evil’s device.
Yet sounds still echo
In the darkened halls
For not all that is dead
Rest peacefully.
The wind blows…
Cold now, down the stairs
Into the deep places
Where torture and grief
Mark the stones with violence.
And people cry out
To lament their anguish
And plead for death.
The wind blows…
Deeper still, into the deepest places
Where even castle residents
Fear to tread.
Where one body remains
Clinging to life until late
Proclaiming itself the castle’s only pure soul.
The wind blows…
Softly, its power almost spent
Like the life, so fragile
That rests in that place.
A heart at peace
A spirit; willing.
The wind blows…
Circling the body
As if wind alone
Could carry it away
The soul resting therein.
The wind blows…
Faintly now, a mere breeze remains
And falters, for the wind cannot carry
A soul so bound.
The wind dies…and soon all will be naught.
Silence reigns…like unto the grave.
Hope...for a light still faintly burns. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 08 Apr 2004 09:35 PM |
OOC
*sighs* I'm speechless...again. Wow, Mykal....
Trishy |
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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Re: The Road to Moldovia
Posted: 11 Apr 2004 01:59 PM |
Sinjin stood above the cliffs of Syn, looking down on the worn, wooden walkways that lead across once (undoubtebly) beautiful islands to Maldovia.
He could make out the great Castle of Valinor in the distance, from time to time when the clouds revieled its presence. Even though he had carried Mykal's body himself across the sloshing waterways and rainy lands to Midor, he would always think of Maldovia as Mykal's final resting place.
It was there, after all, that the spirit left the body. There where Mykal breathed his last breath in defiance of Syn. Sinjin resolved to honor that defiance.
There would come a time when the evils of Maldovia were scourged from the face of Vives. Perhaps not in his lifetime. But the descendants of Kane would see it done. In some time and some place, the free peoples of Vives, and the paladins of Midor would flock to the ruined castle of Valinor.. and remember... not the blackness, not the rising of Syn, not the Count that had been there for centuries... but the last breath of Mykal. The ka inside him he didnt know he had. They would remember him, and honor him.
Sinjin resolved to do the same, in his own way. |
Humbly Submitted,
Sinjin Kane |
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