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A Single Tear
Posted: 16 Dec 2004 01:32 PM |
It ended in the depths of Maldovia with a single tear. Now, they were ready to return.
Macha told Byron that all was prepared. Those who wished to go were finished preparing, and all that needed to be done had been done. We are as ready as we will ever be, thought Byron as he left the tavern. Tomorrow, we enter the maw of darkness and face the hordes of Maldovia.
His journey to Buckshire was uneventful. It was two hours before dusk when he arrived in the small provincial village. He shook off the cold as he walked into the inn. It had been unseasonably cold, even for Buckshire, and his face glowed a ruddy red in the sudden warmth. He ignored the people in the common area and made his way down the stairs to where the rooms were located. There was one room he cared for, only one door on which he knocked.
Eliana was, surprisingly, in her room, and she answered the door quickly. “Hello!” she said with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. She smiled one of her bright smiles, and Byron’s heart leapt. He could not return her smile, though, and she frowned. “What is wrong?” she asked worriedly.
Byron entered the room and shrugged off his overcoat. He hung the coat, taking a moment to collect his thoughts while staring at the coat hook. Eliana tensed behind him, he could sense it. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”
“We go tomorrow,” he said simply. “To Maldovia.”
Eliana issued a small gasp of surprise and, Byron suspected, fear. “No,” she said sharply, “not yet. There has to be another way.” She hurried over to her chest and opened it. “I have sent letters already, to people that may help. With protection at least, but perhaps even imprisoning him...” She began rummaging around her chest, “...Solitaire, and Balthor, and....”
“Eliana.” Byron’s voice was gentle. He crossed the length of the room in a heartbeat and grasped her hand. “Everything is ready. This is what we must do.”
“No!” Her fierce response took Byron off guard. “I cannot let you go. I will not let you die, not so easily!”
“We all may die, Eliana.” His voice was gentle and soft. Eliana rose, her small frame dwarfed by Byron’s height. “But more will suffer if we do nothing.”
Pain wracked Eliana’s face. “Byron...” she started, but stopped when he put a finger to her lips. He pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Ceela,” he whispered, “Thank you for trying. But we have waited too long already.” He stroked her hair as he spoke, and Eliana leaned into him, resting her head on his chest.
“I cannot lose another family,” she said in a small voice.
“I know, ceela.” He rocked her gently back and forth. “I know.”
Eliana pulled away from Byron slightly. She looked up at him and shook her head, her dark eyes filling with tears. “I just found you, Byron... I can’t lose you. Not this soon, and not like this.” A single tear ran down her face. “We have so little time already.”
“You will never lose me, Eliana,” Byron’s voice showed only the smallest signs of shakiness, but it was enough for Eliana to notice. “No matter what, I will be with you. The oath we took, and the love we share, can not be broken by mere death.”
Tears now flowed freely down Eliana’s face, and she buried her head into his chest. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Just don't leave me, do you hear?” Her voice finally broke, and she sobbed quietly.
“I will not leave you, ceela,” whispered Byron. A single tear traced the curve of his cheek, falling to the floor. Eliana pressed her face against him, clinging to him tightly, now sobbing openly. He held her close and spoke gently to her, comforting words that both knew were not true. Things would not be “all right” and they might not “all come back.”
When their tears were spent, the two looked into each other’s eyes. “What happens now?” asked Eliana in a small voice.
“Now,” said Byron, a small smile on his face, “We celebrate the time we have.” He embraced Eliana, kissing her with fierce passion. The moment was frozen in time, and for a moment the two were in a place where there were no vampires, no fear, and no death. “If this is all the time I have left,” he whispered, his lips brushing her cheek, “then I choose to spend it with you.”
They made love that night with an intensity that seemed to make real the hope that, if they held one another tight enough, the moment would never end. Two minds and two bodies, made one through the mutual Bond that no earthly force could break
................................................................................................................................
Dawn brightened the east, but Byron made no move to get out of bed. He held Eliana, who had not yet awoken, and watched her serene face bathed in the first morning light. She was not troubled; he had watched over her dreams that night. Their Bond afforded him that privilege, and he had made sure the dark dreams that would have otherwise entered her reverie did not disturb her. Today they would be going to Maldovia, but not yet. For now, for a few more minutes, he could allow them both peace. He held her, and in her reverie she pressed closer to him. He knew he would never leave her, no matter the cost, no matter the pain, no matter the trial.
Even if I die today, this will not end. He traced his fingers down the curve of her neck and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. I swear it, by all that I am. I swear it |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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Re: A Single Tear
Posted: 16 Dec 2004 02:02 PM |
| ((Oh, I need to mention that Aranel co-wrote this with me. Any quality here was either an accident on my part or by design on her part. Well done, Aranel)) |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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Re: A Single Tear
Posted: 16 Dec 2004 02:08 PM |
| // Bravo! Outstanding indeed! Very powerfully written. |
<WickedArtist> I'd imagine a baby as a REALLY BIG kidney stone |
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Re: A Single Tear
Posted: 16 Dec 2004 03:31 PM |
| ((*claps in appreciation* very, very nice )) |
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: A Single Tear
Posted: 16 Dec 2004 04:53 PM |
(( Oh, I need to mention that Aranel co-wrote this with me. Any quality here was either an accident on my part or by design on her part. Well done, Aranel
If, by "design", you mean "editing what you wrote, making vague suggestions, and whimpering incoherently at the finished product", then sure, I'll take that credit. ;P
Great job, B, as I've said before, with both the write up and the months of set up. Here's to keeping them all alive tonight! )) |
Consequences
Unsent
It's hard to say it, time to say it...
Goodbye, goodbye |
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Re: A Single Tear
Posted: 16 Dec 2004 05:05 PM |
| ((hehe, well seems my effort to keep this post uncluttered mattered little in the grand scheme of things, so I may as well add my appreciation. Well written Byron/Aranel. It would seem you have found the true joy of RP, where one is no longer simply looking at a character but feels what their character does. You are then able to pass that onto others with perfection, giving them a glimpse into the lives of those you hold dear. I love reading these passages, it moves my heart and oft makes me cry. I can't imagine what these people, Byron and Eliana, must feel at a time like this, but your post certainly helps to see and feel some of that emotion. Ok.. I think that's getting a bit long-winded, anyhow. Thank you for sharing their lives with us, and I hope they continue to live so you can share with us some more.)) |
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Re: A Single Tear
Posted: 17 Dec 2004 07:00 AM |
((Beautiful )) |
- Solitaire, Wizard
- Ilyana Fiirhaart, High Priestess of Naruth |
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Re: A Single Tear
Posted: 17 Dec 2004 10:41 AM |
| ((Will there be a coda?)) |
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: A Single Tear - Coda
Posted: 20 Dec 2004 11:22 AM |
A long, thin knife cut him in Maldovia. His skin burned, and tried to scream but no sound came out. He could make no sound, as the vampire’s first incision sliced deeply into Byron’s throat. Loccard worked with marked efficiency, cutting his arms and face, shoulders and chest. The blood pooled around his head and sides, which in turn was funneled to the odd cylindrical containers at the head and foot of the stone alter. Byron tried to scream again, and again no sound was made.
He passed out.
“Mister Byron! I got a greatsword here for ya….”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes...I can offer you freed
He dreamed,
Daniel died last night, and the old paladin missed his squire terribly. Daniel had contracted the plague only three days ago, and the dark desease worked quickly. As with the others afflicted with the plague, Daniel had died, only to rise again in a dark parody of himself. Sir Lorian had been forced to cut the zombie down, hewing Daniel’s head from his body. He had burned Daniel’s remains, the funeral pyre only one of hundreds dotting the city.
“Oh Daniel,” the old paladin lamented, “be at peace now. Today, the living envy the dead.” With that, Sir Lorian hefted his great sword and walked away from the embers of the funeral pyre. There were undead about that needed to be contained. Fewer and fewer of his order were available to fight ever-increasing horde. It was implausible, why would true servants of Aristi abandon their sacred duty? These knights were not dying on the field of battle, they were simply vanishing.
He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach as he approached what remained of his company. Five men were left. Five out of fifty. Where had they gone? The men looked at one another wordlessly. There was nothing left to say. They would continue to fight back the undead, but each knew the cause was hopeless.
“Byron….oh…come, lay him on the bed.”
“Is he…?
“No, he is alive. He just needs time to rest…to heal.”
A horn blast shattered the silence of the night. Sir Lorian, was mounted and used his legs to turn his horse around. With a word his mount bolted towards the source of the horn blast. His five companions followed immediately behind him. He had never heard such a horn blast, but he knew that someone was either trying to rally support or calling for help. Either way ,it was the sign of the living, he hoped, and it would not be ignored.
The horn sounded again, and Sir Lorian knew the sound was coming from outside the city. He reached the gate and dismounted quickly. Guards still help the watchtowers, and after hastily tying his mount to a post, he raised to the top of the wall. “What is the word,” he asked the watch captain.
“An army approaches, sir.” Said the watch captain. Sir Lorian looked a the captian, he could not have been a hair over eighteen, yet the sash over armor market him as the leader. He is just a child. he thought wearily.
“Show me,” he ordered. The watch captain walked to the wall and handed him a spyglass. Sir Lorian accepted the odd contraption and looked through it.
“There,” said the watch captain, “directly to the north.”
Sir Lorian saw it immediately. An army of mounted knights bearing a standard he had never seen before. The heraldry on the crest was white and silver, and he could not read the writing on the banners. He lowered the spyglass and looked at the watch captian. “Send a courier under a banner of truce. Find out what they want.”
“I have already done so, Sir.” Sir Lorian was impressed with the lads forethought. “They call themselves the Order of Midoran. They say they are coming to help. They say,” the watch captain looks out at the approaching army, “They say the can stop the plague…”
He brushed consciousness again and could hear only the soft creak of someone shifting their weight on a chair. He forced open and eye and looked across the room. There was Eliana, sleeping on the uncomfortable chair the room offered. Byron tried to speak, but the fatigue overcame him again, and he drifted off to sleep.
Sir Lorian rode out from the gates of Aristi towards the army that was encamped not thirty meters from the city gate. With him was Sir Ignatius and Sir Wilhelm. The three knights were in battered and dirty armor, but proper care was next to impossible in a city so besieged by the undead.
Three knights from the Order of Midoran’s camp rode to meet them mid-field. They were dressed in white and silver armor and their helms hid their face. Each knight face to face with a counterpart. Sir Lorian spoke, “Hail, sir knight. I am Sir Richard Lorian. Who pray are?”
The center knight, the one looking at Richard, slowly removed his helm. He shook his head and smiled widely. “Come now, Sir Lorian, surely you know me.
“Sir Vandris,” shouted Richard. What are you... I thought youwere dead, or worse! What are you doing here?”
Vandris nodded, “I left Aristi to follow up on a rumor of help several days ride away. What I found were these,” motions to the camp behind him. “Richard, these are good people. They say they can stop this plague, that it is caused by our own sinfulness. They bring word of a new god, one that will protect us and make us his own.”
Richard listened impassively, but deep down he was mortified. Vandris has surrendered his faith, his code, for this? Stilll…
Vandris continued, “There are more, like me, that joined them. Sir Lorian, the time of the Heralds is over….join the Order of Midoran. Fight with us.”
“What of your vow, Vandris? Your Code.”
Vandris frowned sharply, “That Code did not save my family from the plague. It did not force me to hack up and burn my wife while she was on her death bed so keep her from becoming undead.” Vandris snorted, “No, Richard, I found god. A powerful god, and I will not be moved.”
Vandris turned his horse and started galloping towards the encampment. The other two white and silver knights quickly followed suit. The knight on his right started towards the encampment. “Where are you going,” Richard barked.
“Over there,” said the former knight simply. “To join a side that has a chance at winning.” Without another word, the former knight had caught up with Sir Vandris.
So this is where my knights have been going, grimaced Richard. He knew this
was not over, and a strong desire to return to his ancestral home overcame. I must record what went before, before all our traditions are lose to this incoming army.
Byron opened his eyes and tried to focus. The blurry form of Eliana came into focus. He quickly realized where he was, in his room at the Icy Vale Inn, and he smiled. She was alive; he was alive…they were all alive. His memory had many blanks, but that did not matter.
He gripped her hand and she blinked in surprise. “I did not see you awake,” she said, not bothering to hide the tension and relief in her voice.
“Aala,” he said, “I am alive. We are alive.”
“Shhh” she stroked his hair gently, “Go back to sleep. You need a bit more rest before you can get up.”
“No, Eliana…not yet.” Eliana’s head was framed by the dim torchlight. He squeezed her hand, a single tear running down his face. “I am glad you are alive, ceela. Thank you.”
He was asleep before he saw Eliana’s face, and the single tear falling down her cheek. |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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