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Blood and Nightmares - The players perspective
Posted: 29 Jul 2005 04:31 PM |
A disquieting silence had fallen over the woods near Brandibuck, he had heard the guards speak of it as he passed. But strange tales are often told by the residents of outlying villages. Just tales to explain the unknown or to keep the children near home at nightfall. But upon entering those woods, the tales of fancy begain to turn into reality. Night is quick to come, but it fell with supernatural speed within those ancient trees. Bringing with it the beating of a thousand wings and the howl of predators that only walk the darkest of groves.
He had seen the fallen woman, and had battled the wolf that fought with more than claw and fang. The creature was insidious...it crept inside your head and poisoned your mind. Leaving waking visions in its path. Of blood within trees, and darkness...only darkness. The lycans that parade as gypsies of the woods knew the darkness, and even they feared it. They spoke of it coming as a mist from the island......and island he knew and feared. The mist coiled through the forest like a snake, and if it was as he feared, then the snake must be severed in two, before it swallowed all.
Some battles can be fought alone and quickly. Others take more care. This was perhaps the latter. He would not go onto the shores of that island again without the aid of many...to do otherwise would be folly. Others must know of this encroachment...others must have seen the same sights as he.
Over the past several evenings, Coruva has been seen in the small inns and taverns of Vives, sitting quietly in the corner, listening to the patrons as they visit. Waiting to hear another speak of the blood and darkness of the woods. Looking for someone that knows more of this tale than he. |
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Re: Blood and Nightmares - The players perspective
Posted: 30 Jul 2005 04:33 AM |
Loleppi plopped into the seat with an unladylike lack of grace and waved Winky over. With a wry shake of his head, the old Halfling vanished into the kitchen, re-emerging seconds later with a pitcher and a glass.
“You be careful now, lass,” he warned with a wink as he set the items on her table. “Tha’s strong stuff, that is. Miss Blanche’s archon pal went off ’is ’ead after only one glass.”
Loli quirked a blonde eyebrow at him in disbelief. “It’s lemonade.”
Winky spread his hands and shrugged. “Don’ say I didn’ warn ya, lass.”
“Mmm,” Loli replied noncommitally, pouring herself some lemonade. “Has Pellali been in? Rosenia’s been pestering me for a break for three days now, but I can’t let her off until the replacement comes in. The show must go on, and all that.”
“Oh, aye, came in just two hours ago. She’s in the room back there sleeping.” Winky gestured past a table where a lone Dwarf sat, indicating the door to one of the inn’s rooms. He turned his attention back to Loleppi. “Speakin’ a which, ’bout time ye took a break too, aye?”
Loleppi rolled her eyes. “And then who’d run the band, huh? Bibbido? Fredo? Gotta keep the crowd happy, ya know. Although,” she added as an afterthought, “I reckon it’s time I tracked down Lex again. I’m running outta songs here.”
Winky looked around the room, then slipped into the seat opposite. “Heard some folks mention ’is name a few weeks ago,” he said.
“Oh?”
He nodded. “Aye, summin or other t’do with the Bloodwood. Wasn’t payin’ all that much attention, but there’s strange things goin’ on. Spoke ta Mister Gasher the other day, heard about Peppidi. Well. Haven’t seen this many guards ’round th’ Vale since that auction, and even then, we sure didn’t have this many.”
Loli cupped the glass in her hands, staring down at its untouched contents.
“Did I tell ya ’bout this strange thing wut ’appened ’ere some months ago?” Winky went on. “Mister Conn screaming and found near-dead and drained, folks talkin’ about being haunted by vampires... aye, I did,” he added at the look of recognition that crossed her face.
“Lex is harmless,” Loli said firmly.
“It’s all connected, I tells ya,” Winky persisted. “And your pal there’s in the middle of it all. Mister Conn and Malakhi being haunted, that strange man Vansane... we get heaps o’ travellin’ bards come through ’ere, Loli, don’t go trackin’ that one down—ask one o’ them for new material. That Lex pal o’ yours, ’e’s jus’ dangerous.”
Loleppi shook her head stubbornly and downed the contents of the glass in one gulp. She paused, then started coughing and choking, her eyes bulging.
“Loli...!” Winky jumped out of his chair and hurried over, but she waved him away.
“By Swiftfoot,” she gasped, thumping her fist against her chest as she coughed. “How much sugar did ya put inta this?” |
The subculture of my dreams
Is waiting for me to fall asleep.
I know you're scared—you should be.
I know you're scared. |
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Haunted
Posted: 31 Jul 2005 07:57 AM |
Miramil
Miramil walked in and gave Loleppi a funny look as she crossed the room to sit by the fire. Looking up, Winky waved cheerily.
“Allo! Did ya find out what was makin’ dem scary wolf howl noises?” Winky asked with a wink and a grin.
Looking very white and not at all her usual bubbly self, the Gnome nodded. “Uhhuh. It is REALLY spookifying out there at night and I think no one should go to Bloodwood because there are big eeky scary dogs and there are scary dog sounds in Mirghul at night even though we saw no eeky scary dogs and the trail is really cold and spooky and there are slithery things and I do not think anyone should go there because even Alton was scared.”
“Oi!” came a protest from the other side of the wall, where the main lounge was. “Was not!”
~*~
Lillian
It spun on the end of its chain, glittering in the red sunset like a fragment of the dying sun, forever golden and preserved: an intricate talisman, oval in shape, hundreds of spokes radiating out from the centre like sunrays. In the centre, a winged snake nestled, twisted into the shape of a glyph. Arranged around it were eight small indentations, hemispherical, that had once contained gemstones. When she'd inherited it, there had been one gem left: a strange, iridiscent thing, perfectly round and slightly transparent, looking for all the world like a trapped soap bubble. But it was gone now. Expended.
The talisman spun. A skull glared from its opposite side, its empty gaze baleful and accusing, a bone clenched in its jaws.
It wasn't that long ago that she'd used it, but already the curse had begun.
Or maybe it was her imagination. Maybe it wasn't the reason behind the scattering of the loyalists, the appearance of Midoran on the other team's side, the sudden and mysterious disappearance of Markus, the murders occurring right outside Brandibuck, all the catastrophes that just kept coming, one after the other, without pause. Maybe it was her imagination.
And maybe not.
Around and around it spun, now showing the face of the blessing, now showing the face of the curse. The price of one miracle, a lifetime of curses. That was the story that was passed down from generation to generation within the family. Somehow, she'd always assumed that the curses only applied to whoever used the talisman.
Obviously, she'd been wrong.
Why are you here? she'd asked, out in the dark, out in the middle of nowhere, out in a place that should have seemed familiar, a place she'd walked hundreds of times before that had suddenly become alien.
You called us.
Sunset sank to twilight, the multicoloured sky fading to colourless grey and black. The talisman slowed, stopped. The skull glared in the pale moonlight.
You called us...
Lillian Blackstone curled her fingers around the offending symbol to block out its accusing glare, but the image was burned into her mind. |
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The Shrouded Path
Posted: 31 Jul 2005 08:36 AM |
The Shrouds of Mirghul
The Mirghul Forest Trail is a place of safety. Those who remember the days when Mirghul was swarming with goblins east to west, with no safe crossing, could testify to that. Perhaps it is by the constant traffic of the seasoned adventurers that the forest was split in two, forming the now well-known path that cleaves through the dark sea of trees.
However, Mirghul was also a place shrouded by mystery and unease. From the west, faint howlings could sometimes be heard, perhaps from wolves, perhaps from something that only resembles them. To the east, the goblin hordes still lurked as they always have, waiting to prey upon the unsuspecting, but no know than a mere nuisance - and even further was the Steppes of Syn, leading into the nothingness of Maldovia, where nothing and everything lurked - the domain of Syn it is. And on the path itself, the black eyes of black birds stared, ever vigilant, as if delving into the mind, and a mysterious reddish statue, standing frozen with terror - though there are truths behind such things that not all may know.
Indeed, the Mirghul Trail was shrouded in mystery and unease.
Now it was shrouded by something else.
* * *
The twinkle of the stars reflected on his silver armor as Trent departured from Midor. Rumors began to form in Brandibuck and echoed to other places as well - the vale is on its guard, vigilant to an unknown sense of danger, dark sounds could be heard at night, and the threat of the Ettins seems to have shrunk before the threat of Bloodwood itself.
Rumors tend to be only that - rumors - though even a rumor may have a flicker of truth, and they have caught Trent's interest. He had to see it in his own eyes, hear it with his own ears, and feel it with his own mind and body. So there he traveled - to Brandibuck. He has not been there in a while.
The twinkles of the stars faded on his armor as Trent passed the shadow of Gorlath Keep, yet the shadow seemed bigger now, darker and more intimidating - and perhaps it was not the keep at all.
As he strode forward, the truth became clear, just as everything else became the opposite. Mist began to form around his feet, raising upwards like the foul breath of a beast until the once clear view of the path became covered with it. It is as the mystery itself has taken the form of mist in the path, or perhaps only in his mind.
The howls could be heard, but this time it was not the faint howling from the west, this time he could not discern from where they came, and they were different - louder. Could be nothing more than a pack of wolves, could be that the denizens of the western Mirghul came to hunt, could be something else. With the howls there was a sudden flap of many wings, but as he looked up it became clear it was not the work of the ravens, but a swarm of bats flying over the path at nightfall, covering the already vague view of the sky like a black cloud, landing on the trees and keeping the same vigilance the ravens have.
Then, it all became terribly silent. The low squeakings of the bats, the loud howls, the shrieking wind, the rustling trees - all were swallowed by the silence, the lack of sound, as if a mage has cast a spell of Silence across the entire path.
Further down the path there were two figures, barely seen, laying on the ground floor and covered by the mist. Adventurers? Travelers? Perhaps, but these ones were motionless, and as he got closer, and the view became clealer, he could also confirm that they were dead. Clearly, it was the work of the goblins, as the two corpses were laid uncunningly next to their section of the forest.
As he moved closer to the two corpses, he could feel - no, sense - a small creature crawling on the armor of his right foot, and with a sharp movement he hurled it backwards. The writhing form of a snake could be discerned through the mist - a Pit Viper? In Mirghul? Needless to say, the snake's life met a premature end.
Two puncture marks! - on the throat! Could be the work of the Viper, preying upon the two unsuspecting victims with its deadly bite. But no. These two men were not killed by any snake or any goblin. The marks could only indicate that the deed was done by the Syncursed, the Vampires.
All the signs have confirmed what Trent could already feel - this is the work of Syn.
The loud howls were heard again, just as the wind continued to shriek and the trees continued to rustle - and all these were swallown by the dreaded silence, like food devoured bt a hungry beast. Trent rose to his feet and looked around him. Was it fear that he felt? Perhaps, but he could no longer afford to act by that fear. If Paladins are supposed to fear nothing - Syn was the "nothing" they feared.
Trent continued to stride foward. From the blood-hued path all the way to Brandibuck the dark sounds followed. The rumors were right - the vale IS on its guard, and something IS terribly wrong going on. Bloodwood had to be explored, but not now, and not alone - later, when it is the right time, and with the right people.
* * *
He asked others of news from the south, of information on Mirghul, Brandibuck and Bloodwood. Most people paid no attention to his words, to the dread that he has discovered on the Mirghul Trail - the shroud of mist, danger, death and emptiness that has now engulfed this path of mystery - but most people are fools. Something is working from the darkness, and it would not count on the foolishness of others to keep it hidden forever. |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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A Figure in the Mist
Posted: 31 Jul 2005 01:58 PM |
Twilight falls on Brandibuck. Mothers usher their children inside, watching the gathering darkness with an accusing eye. Fathers bar the doors and windows. The night watch takes up thier posts around the meager walls of the town. It is heartbreaking to see. They are scared- it is written all over thier childish faces.
Darkness now, but few are outside to see it. Families are huddled around their fires, doing their very best to cling to what light they can. No, there is no one but the guard at the South Gate to see the robed man leave town headed south- directly for the Mirghul.
He strode to them with purpose. He asked politely but firmly for them to let him pass.
. . . .
"One look from tha' one," the gate captain told his wife the next morning over breakfast at the Inn, "an I tol' me boys to open tha' gate roight up. If'n tha' bigga has business ou' theah, -I'll- nawt be tha one to tell him othawise."
His wife voiced dismay. She wished that he would take that job at the bakery.
How was she supposed to raise three children if something happens to him?
He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Merry-am, keeps me warm a' noight ta know you are worryin' abou' me."
~:: M ::~
And so it was. The gate captain breakfasts at Ye Hole In The Ground nearly every day. He tells the story of the strange man who walks the Mirghul at night to whoever has the ear to listen, apparently the man has made many midnight journeys to the forest now. There was wild speculation amongst the morning crowd at Winky's place. Was he taken by morbid fascination? A potential saviour?
The halflings had come to find that there was nothing like a tale of darkness in the breaking morning. It lifted the spirit to laugh and be unafraid again as the dawn breaks over the hills in the east.
((OOC))
If pressed for a description, the guard will tell of a man of imposing stature, long dark hair... either brown or black. He wears a circlet of some kind upon his head. Carries a greatsword approximately three halflings long.
Head to toe, not side to side.
((If a meeting is sought, just give me a PM, can arrange a time to meet IG.)) |
Malakhi Aquistine
Erick Whitestone |
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In the middle of the night...
Posted: 01 Aug 2005 12:18 AM |
« You can be anything you want in life, Sunshine, though never forget who you are, deep inside. Do not fall for instinct for we all are different from the animals. We have the moral to not challenge authorities for nothing or kill the other for the territory.
Never forget who you are, Sunshine, Never. »
- Hassan Mackenzie
Bats are only bats, Fatima thought. After all, bats –are- natural even if they are not that cute, and secretely, she wanted to overcome the feeling she felt in the forest before.
In the forest trail of Mirghul, she finally looked around nervously. Tick, heavy fog was covering the ground, and yet, she felt those eyes locked on her. Unnatural eyes.
“Get the hell out of here you’re scaring people away!” she meant as she crawked at the sky.
After a moment that looked forever, she finally walked a bit in the blindly fog, until she heard some hisses.
“What, the?”
There was no time to think as some snakes started to bite her but in vain. She sighed and knocked on something. It was not firm, but not like dirt…
“dang!”
There was two bodies, bloodless and curled up in terror. So they were there more than ever…She finally took two shafts and stabbed the poor souls’ heart wincing. It was gross, but someone had to do it.
She started to walk again looking around, sounds that were so calming in other places that here, could make you scream…
A owl…
Crickets…
Snakes…
And wolves…
“It’s…just…a wolf bloody hell Fatima!” she said to herself. It’s so stupid to be afraid of a wolf, she thought…but she –was- afraid…
Another howl and it was enough. She quickly took her club grasping it tightly turning around. If they wanted her, they would have to fight hard for it…or maybe not so hard, she thought…but anyway she would fight.
She tried to peer into the fog but it was no use…it was an unnatural fog …Yes …something was behind this. But she did not wait for long, as something –or was it someone?- touched the back of her neck like an ice spike. She quickly turned around waving her club in front of her once.
“Ok, times up…stop, it.”
And then, It spoke, teasing.
“You should not be alone in the dark…Not in a place like this.”
If he would have been in front of her, he would have get a whole club in its head. But only air stood in front of the druidess. Shadows with red eyes –or was it only her imagination?- bigger than what she ever seen were lurking at her. She stumbled on the statue and shrieked angrily. She looked at a wolf, -Something that looked like a wolf, horrible though- howled. Unable to control herself, she started to shake violently.
“I…It’s just a … big…wolf … Who’s afraid of wolves heh?” she tried to convince herself in vain.
She took a step forward before she saw hundreds of bats looking at her, in her, like in her soul, deeper than that even. And then, that urge…that crawling urge to shift into a panther…to disappear in the night…to be with –them- for a moment. Just, a moment…
“No…no no and NO You won’t get me!” she growled.
At those words, a whisper –or was it her own mind?- started to speak in her head.
“You’d be safe if only you were one of them. One of the hunters prowlers devourers.”
“no…no…NO!”
She dropped her club shakily. What if it was right? What if it was the only solution? … no…It can’t be right. Life’s hard, and some says she’s a… but it was better than killing innocents. They wanted to fight in her head, she thought, then so be it, they would be served.
“ NO! I’ll kill the rest that's alive of you before joining DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?!” she shouted, although it did not sound as convinced as she wanted it to be.
“To hunt, to kill, to tear through flesh and never be afraid, never be hurt, never be hunted…” the whispers managed to say again.
“these are lies..I…I am no animal… no animal like you” she whispered as she slipped on the ground shaking. In other circumstances, she would have said that “they were just bloodsuckers and that she was no afraid of such things” but now…
“I…have a mind… a free mind…”
She broke into tears trying to think of a time when she was shifting out of rational thought and not emotions…this urge, again! It was crawling on her…she started to rock gently putting both hands on her ears. And then, something on her right moved. Blinded by her tears, she slowly looked but saw nothing.
There’s no time to stay down, Fatima, come on kick them out of your place for Elbereth’s sake show them what you got! You’re not the crying type! she thought for herself. It was no time to sit back and die or been .. drank?
She quickly stood up, took her club and wiped her tears angrily. But after a second, she felt as if..something took a part of her. Instinctively, she put a hand on her neck and felt no trace of teeth..
Then, what was it, if this impression was real, what did the vampires took from her? Fatima raised her hand and called upon a wolf to help her. The poor beast cried and turned around him visibly afraid. She looked to the east where she heard a gross sound of something being crushed and devoured…but no trace. Then, hundreds of bats shrieked in the dawn and took flight at the same time.
And there was no trace of them.
Fatima finally looked at the dawn, drained from everything.
“I…have to go seek advices…I’m –so- in trouble right now” |
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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Short 'elp's betta 'n nun
Posted: 01 Aug 2005 12:31 PM |
The guyver knelt and studied the grizzled remains of the bats strewn about the ground.
"bluddy neckbiters", he murmered eyes flashing with anger, " ...an' tha Brandibuck plopped roit in tha middle."
He had sent all the guyvers to get positive proof of vampire involvement, but his worried mind had known the answer before he had even sent them. It was time to knock another "item" off the list, and the vampires had "volunteered" to be next with...whatever it was they were up to. This would require some major planning, the vampires were not to be taken lightly. His eyes narrowed as his lips twisted into a wicked grin. This would be a good job for the guyver sapper, Jubei. He seemed to enjoy the idea of blowing things to the hells and beyond. Wasn't that where the bloodsuckers belonged after all?
He stalked off into the night, the shadows swirling in behind him. |
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The Hunting Shadows
Posted: 02 Aug 2005 07:41 AM |
The Great Plains were empty... more so than usual...
“Wot ‘appened ‘ere? Where’s da bandits?”
The faint stains of blood were still visible after the Righteous Swords have marched through the Great Plains, sweeping like locust upon the unsuspecting bandits that stalk the unsuspecting travelers. Alton spent enough time in Brandibuck to be able and ignore all the news from the world of the big ones, almost living the simple life he lived long ago.
“There were red knights on the plains. The entire army of them! And they marched through there.”
Alton and Miramil continued on their way to Brandibuck, just after their visit to the very Heart of Tarik deep in the Slyvian Forest. But Tarik and his minions, subtle and dangerous as they are, were still only that – elves who follow the Hunter. They were something to be fought, to defeat – or be defeated by.
What lurked along the road was nothing, the sort of nothingness that Syn only could turn into an instrument of terror.
Right Sized have a natural talent for getting in (and out of) trouble, a lot of trouble even. Perhaps that is the reason Brandibuck was built on such an unfortunate crossroad, with Maldovia to the east, Midor and Mirghul to the south, Ladriel to the west and Bloodwood to the north.
“What did they want?” Alton continued to his inqueries concerning the presence of the Righteous Swords on the Great Plains.
“I do not know. Mr. Vidus said bye bye and left.”
“Left?”
“With them?”
“Where?”
“That way somewhere.” Miramil pointed to the west.
* * *
“Eeh!”
The darkness of Mirghul was upon them. It was not the oridinary darkness, not a darkness of the night, when the moon and the stars are hidden by the giant canopies of the great oak trees. It was a different darkness, an empty darkness, filled with mist and sounds.
Alton looked around the trail. This was not the trail he knew. It seemed to last forever, curving and turning like a great slithering serpent made of dust. The once green grass now resembled black tendrils of shadow in the darkness. The mist was in the color of blood, as if the very air drank it and joined with its color.
It is as if the trail was replaced by a darker, negative version of its old self.
“Its cold.”
Miramil was right. It was cold. The kind of cold you can find in a void, where there is nothing, not even the heat of the sun or the warmth of the air.
“Kinda chilly ‘ere, aye.”
A vague figure could be seen in the red mist. It was certainly the same trail, as the figure was certainly the same old Handel, still covered by stone as he was for a, long long time. Even in the darkness of the trail, Alton still found the idea of a Dragonkin of Naruth being turned into stone as amusin. He poked the statue, for no particular reason other than curiousity.
“Nnn. Don’t poke him!” Miramil exclaimed in alarm.
“I wonder if ‘e’s causin’ dis.” Alton pondered. The statue was acting strangely before, it could always act strangely again. The red mist is only appropriate for a Dragonkin such as him to create.
“Nuhhuh. He can still escape from the statue.”
Deciding to amuse himself, and perhaps also to be certain, and make him forget about the dark trail for only a moment, Alton smacked the statue with his mace, only to be smacked himself, or more correctly bopped, on the head by Miramil in return.
“Be nice!”
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
They froze.
The sound of the long howl came from nowhere in particular, but it was so loud and so close. It was as if a great unseen wolf of shadows was standing right next to them, stalking their every moment, staring with red eyes filled with lust for blood.
Maybe that possibility is more true than some of you may think.
Night now fell completely. The red mist became redder, the darkness became deeper, the sounds became louder, one sound in particular – bats! Hundreds if not thousands of bats! All of them swarming into the great trees as the last rays of the sun vanished from the trail. Their sheer numbers make a mockery of the great legions of Midor.
The sound of their many wings was deafening, their numbers unnatural. They came from the east – from Maldovia.
“Uhh.”
“Wot da ‘ell was dat?!”
In a small voice, one oppressed by fear and terror, Miramil asked the same question herself. “What was that sound?”
“Uhm… I dunno.”
Alton was rarely scared by other threats. He always met them with spell, prayer ready in his mind, mace and shield wielded in his hands. This threat was like no other, it was there but it was no there, no spell could see through the shadows, no prayer could pierce the darkness, no mace could strike the creatures that were not there and no shield could deflect their blows that were not sent. This time, Alton was afraid.
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
“Allllltooonnn.”
“Aye?”
“Stop making scary sounds. It’s not funny.”
“Dat’s not me!”
With a sudden burst of flame, Alton’s weapon was now ready at hand. Flames were not his favorit tool, but it kept him alive this far, and he felt he needed it now – for whatever good it did.
The burst of flame of the Darkfire spell brought caught the attention of many bats that streamed off the nearby trees to stay away from the feeble light of the burning mace, squeaking and flapping their many tiny wings.
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
“Nnnh.” Miramil began to shift from foot to foot nervously.
“Dat sounds like… bats an’ stuff…”
If indeed there was a bloodthirsty wolf stalking them with red eyes, there were many more of those staring at them just as well from the shadows, where they were unseen, howling only to install terror in the hearts and minds of the travellers.
“I don’t like it here.”
“Aye, let’s just keep goin’.”
Each step they took did not seem to bring them any closer to the edge of the trail. The serpent of dust continued to curve and turn and the foothills were hidden by the blood-red mist that covered the entire place.
“Uhuh, let’s –“
Through the mist the blooded corpses of two were found. The terror now only grew stronger. Were vampires watching them from the shadows as well? Were they waiting until they were off their guard, only to sink their fangs in their throats as they did to these other two?
“Dese were killed by…” Alton noticed the corpses were pale and bloodless, and two puncture marks were at each’s throat. “…vampires.”
“Alton! EEK!”
A pit viper left the cover of the grass and walked right between Miramil’s feet. Then another. Alton just recalled the spell of invisibility Miramil has cast on both a while ago – but he knew the lack of vision will not stand in the way of the God that is the Lack of All.
“Jus’ walk past dem. Dey cant see ya.”
Indeed, the Pit Vipers could not see them, and they strode forwards, and with them strode still the ominous feeling that they were being watched, stalked, and most the most dreaded knowing of all that whatever was watching them will also remember them, know who they are, and will follow them wherever they go.
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
Miramil froze again only after a few steps, right next to the fallen victims. The dreaded feeling that others were watching grew stronger, and now they were coming closer, from all directions – closer and closer and closer, ready to leap from the shadows at any moment.
The darkness grew deeper, the mist grew redder, the terror grew stronger.
The unseen enemies moved CLOSER.
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
This time the howl was right at their ears. The low growl of the red-eyes wolves could almost be heard right next to their ears. From the corner of their eyes they could almost see them drooling in hunger, their eyes reflecting the red color of blood that they desire so strongly to feast on.
Alton grabbed Miramil’s hand and quickly ran along the trail. The beginning of the foothills could now be seen through the red mist. The feeling of the imminent danger faded as they moved forwards – perhaps if they stayed longer in there the darkness would surround them, move towards them, and ultimately swallow them – perhaps the very terror would have done that instead.
* * *
“Don’t do that!” Miramil bopped Alton on the head… again.
“You were jus’ standin’ der.”
“I was NOT! I was… I was..-“
“- Scared.”
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
“They’re here too! Eeh!” Miramil quickly looked around the dark foothills. The mist was gone, the blood was gone, the bats were gone… but the howls, the wolves… they followed.
“I dun’ see anyfin’ strange.”
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
They both looked around in paranoia, even before the howl has ended. The terror quickly returned - the images of red-eyes wolves hunting for blood returned with it. They could be anywhere, they WERE everywhere, unseen – behind the tree, under the bush, around that rock - EVERYWHERE.
Perhaps this time it was just wolves, hunting for wood – there are wolves in Swiftdale, preying on the sheep that call the place their home. But that was only wishful thinking – these wolves were no normal wolves, and they were not after the sheep.
“Let’s keep going.”
Finally, the walls of the vale were in sight, and four guards were standing at the entrance, greeting Alton and Miramil with relief of their arrival, but terror was still in their eyes, terror and enough determination to fight it for the sake of the vale.
“It’s quiet here too.” Miramil glanced around the vale.
*Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww*
“Eek!”
As they passed the gate, Miramil quickly bolted it shut. Even inside their tiny walls there was no feeling of safety. Guards were patroling the paths, exhausted and afraid. The creatures of shadow could even be here, behind the hills and buildings, inside the homes where people sleep, in the very shadows formed by the lights of the torches.
Finally, behind the closed doors of the inn – safety.
But the shadows were still out there, and they KNEW who they were and where they are… and they waited in the darkness…
At dawn they will investigate Bloodwood – when there’s light, where the shadows are less numerous and less powerful – when the two are refreshed and ready.
This threat is new, and the vale was right in the path of its growth – it has to be stopped now before it is too late, or the vale, and perhaps the world itself, will be placed of oblivion.
Scoopers wrriten a while ago that Bloodwood is drinking blood.
As morning came, Miramil and Alton stood at the edge of this ancient forest… |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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Re: Blood and Nightmares - The players perspective
Posted: 02 Aug 2005 07:59 AM |
Norran lay back, attempting to put the night's events into perspective.
They had wanted information - and had got it. Too much, perhaps. The answers had yielded questions of their own. Such revelations often do. Lex was an enigma. What was his role? Who does he answer to? A simple bard. Norran smirked in the darkness. But he had offered the information willingly, and of his own volition. That perhaps spoke more loudly than the tale he spun.
Syn....Maldovia. They were names Norran had heard sparingly, and always with the same expression....a grave sadness, as if recounting some painful memory deep within the collective consciousness. But he'd never really had cause to think about it as of yet.
He rolled it over and over in his mind, recalling what Lex had said. The portal....the Sleeper....the balance. He remembered the name - Archiax.
One thing was certain - this one would not be solved with a well-placed sword-stroke. There were figures with infinitely more influence, and infinitely more power than he, and he must let them act. Assist them, perhaps, but this was their fight. He thought of Coruva, and....Vandle. Would any more be heard of him? He frowned as he recounted their conversation. Syn had begun his work, spinning his web of fear and hate, impressing upon the minds of those who venture too boldly in. Such a vulnerable character as Vandle would have been easy prey.
Norran heard a howl. No ordinary howl. Far in the distance. Sitting bolt upright, suddenly he found himself reaching for his new sword. "No..." he muttered aloud, "...I must not fear." He thought of the hound that had rounded upon him earlier, and knocked him clean to the ground, to within an inch of his life....but he remembered Vrodo's words. "Safe like badgers," he had said. "No fear in badgers, they just safe."
At that, Norran rolled over. His mind's eye glimpsed the smirking face of Cora, and he smiled to himself. It had been a long day.
At that thought, Norran fell asleep. |
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Still They Stalk, Still It Hungers
Posted: 02 Aug 2005 01:43 PM |
Still they stalked…
There are many places in the world that are not reached by the light. Anywhere you go and in any place you step you can notice these placem, they are everywhere and take the shape of anything.
These places are where the shadows are formed, and the shadows are their borders. They are realms on their own, realms where there are shadows, and there are shadows - not the normal shadows that form behind an object or a creature, but shadows that walk… and feed…
In every shadow they could be, watching, waiting, following… hunting.
They moved into the wood, slowly, carefully, fearfully. The images of the Mirghul Trail did yet leave Alton’s mind, and Bloodwood was all too similar – a tree-filled darkness with the strange reddish hue of fresh flood.
The sounds of Bloodwood were different from those of Mirghul. The shifting of the mist was replaced by the eerie wind, the flaps and squeaks of the bats replaced by the thudding footsteps of the Ettins and the wolvish howls replaced by the rustling of the branches – branches that were moving with the wind like great hands praising the creature that lives below.
“Uhh…”
The Gnome, previously terrified by the trail, already felt the terror creeping and settling in her mind. This was, after all, also a place touched by Syn.
“We should make sure dey can’t see us.”
Even though the terror crept slowly to his mind as well, he did not want to show fear. He had to stay brave – ludic – as Bloodwood would surely be far more dangerous than the trail of Mirghul. More than his own life were dependant on it now, but the life of Miramil as well, and perhaps of all the denizens of Brandibuck.
More than that he knew that it is best to see the troubles, but try and avoid being seen by them. Invisibility was the best option that stood before them, and they had just the Gnome to do it.
* * *
They crept slowly through the forest, through the trees and the Ettins. Bloodwood was not all that different than the forest Alton used to know – before the thing below has awakened to feed – but even so Alton feared it. The Ettins that he could strike down so easily now seemed larger, stronger and more bloodthirsty. The trees that seemed like simple foliage now looked like great giants praising the darkness with their mighty arms. It was same Bloodwood he knew for years, only that this time it has awakened to the hunger of the sleeper beneath.
* * *
As they stood at the edge of the cliff they could hear a faint melody from far below, coming from what seemed to be a camp, the fire still burning.
“’oo’s down der?”
“We don’t know. The way wasn’t safe to go when we went.”
Just another mystery to add to the great secret that concealed Syn’s newest scheme.
They just had to keep going… until some answer could be found…
* * *
Miramil froze as she saw them…
The shadows, those that have stalked them in Mirghul, or perhaps different ones. Those shadows that brought so much fear when they were unseen brought a certain comfort to Alton as he saw their shape, that of the very red-eyed wolf he pictured in his mind before. Though terrorizing, these creatures of shadow could be seen and stricken down, they were vulnerable, and the knowing of that has had a strange comfort in it…
… as comforting as a harbinger of nightmares can be…
“Do we go on? It’s through the waterfall.”
Of course they will go on. Alton would not leave the wood until he sheds some light on the mystery, even if it is a faint light in the overwhelming darkness.
He simply nodded.
What could cleave a halfling in half, leaving a trail of blood beneath the seperated fragments? Those were Alton’s thoughts as he glanced at one of the rangers of Bloodwood, her lifeless corpse cut in two… by a trap that has been laid right between the two halves or her body.
“Trap!” He whispered
“Uhuh.”
It was not too difficult to bypass the trap and by the seemingly unsuspecting wolves. They went past the waterfall and past the tunnel in the cliff, where they entered a completely different world – a part of Bloodwood Alton has never walked through before, where not even the Ettins would step, that much was clear at the sight of the Ettin that has fallen to yet another trap laid in the ground.
At Miramil’s gesture, Alton looked north. They were there too. More wolves walking among the shadows of the forest. They were everywhere now. In front of them, to their left, to their right and back on the only way out.
“They were not here either, but the icky Ettin was.”
“Wot are dey?”
“I do not know.”
Fear took their voice, leaving only the faint whispers on the edge of hearing through which the two communicated.
The next trap as easy to bypass as the first one, at least for the Halfling and the Gnome, as the current shape of the Ettin leaves to question about his ability to discern and bypass such things.
* * *
The faint tendrils of smoke could be seen from the edge of the cliff as the two snuck quietly past the several hounds. The camp that they have seen earlier was now closer, the melody being played from it was clearer, the mystery only growing deeper.
“Odd.” Alton mused, hearing the music for the first time. Someone is actually playing melodies in such a dreadful place?
“Uhhuh. But the stairs were not safe last time we came here. Mister Gasher and Miss Fatima did not want to try.”
A rustle from behind them alerted them to the approaching wolf, staring directly at them with its piercing eyes… then staring away, as if never noticing their presence, and walking down the mysterious stairway behind them… then back up.
“There is someone down there.”
* * *
The soft melody could clearly be heard as the two went down the stairs, at least as clear as it could be with the rain dropping down from the heavens. It was soothing, a strange place of comfort in such a place of death and blood.
“Oooooh.”
The surprise caught Miramil as well as Alton when the camp they saw from above has been revealed. A place of mystery and magic. The fire was kept safe from the rain by a strange globe of magic. A caravan stood next to the fire, the entrance blocked by a barrier made of lightning. Near the caravan was… a strange horse…
“That is a strange horse.”
As they continued forward, it became clear that the music came from the caravan, but there was no way to enter and discover who plays the melody, and who knows what other secrets could be discovered in such a strange place.
“Anybuddy ‘ome?” Alton was quickly zapped by the electrified barrier as he attempted to get only a little too close.
Behind the Caravan was a strange glyph on what could only be some sort of portal. Miramil stepped right in the center.
“Do ya really want to stand der?”
“Why not?”
“Um… wot if it takes ya sumwhere nasty?”
“EEK!” Miramil jumped to the side.
* * *
The answers that were found brought no comfort to Alton as he was forced to turn back to the vale. The danger was too great to continue and explore the forest. Though he has learned the answer to one question, that answer has brought many more questions with it – questions that would be answered later.
For now, it was time to go back, and quickly. Through the lurking hounds, through the stomping Ettins and past the giant trees, back to the vale – where it is safe.
The sun vanished right as they left the forest grounds, and Alton almost grew panicked at the thought of them staying in that dreaded place overnight. Perhaps the mere presence of the sun above the great canopies blinded the hounds and whatever other evil that lurked in the forest to their presence.
There were many questions to be answered yet – some are old, some are new and some were not yet asked.
The memory of the note that Scoopers have written before about Bloodwood long ago now surfaced back to Alton’s thoughts, and with them the memory of Larin and the words he spoke – words that seemed to be merely mad ramblings before were now looked upon by a whole new light.
Something has slept beneath the skin of the world for many years. Now it has awakened, feeding on the blood of the fallen…
… and still it hungers… |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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The word goes out
Posted: 02 Aug 2005 02:58 PM |
Johe frowned at the note as he handed it to Zigzig.
"make sure all guyvers an' guyver frends git this an' send a copy ta Jessup over at tha 'and too tell 'im I'll splain wen I gits ta see 'im next, this is reel important big fella don' bugger it up an' I'll bring extra meet pies tanite okie dokie?"
"PIEZZ" ,the half orcs eyes brightened, "I'z do thiz rite now, YUS!"
A droplet of drool hit the parchment as the hungry half orc copied the missive.
"All guyvers and guyver friends, it's very important that nobuddy kills anything in tha Bludwood starting rite away. I'll 'splain why at tha meetin' next week.
JJ" |
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Re: The word goes out
Posted: 02 Aug 2005 04:11 PM |
Bloodwood...
The woods certainly lived up to it's name with the sun's rays turned red from their passage through the leaves, raining down their color on the traveller below.
He made many passages through these woods over the last few weeks, running around fetching odd items that were requested by the artificer for his studies. As he ran through the forest he remembered that there was a time he feared the Ettins and found ways to slip around them. Now? Now he ran into the thick of them, he kama's flashing out, disembowling, dismembering, cutting them down with amazing speed while his prayers poured forth lending strength. The blood flowed freely soaking into his red robes.
He was enjoying this... Somehow...it felt right.
As soon as it started, it was unfortunately over; the bodies butchered and now lifeless. He took a moment to peer into the woods in the hopes of finding more nearby. Seeing none, he ran off to the north.
"I'll come this way again", he though, "perhaps tomorrow..."
The visions of blood continued to keep him company on his journey northwards. |
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 word goes out
Posted: 03 Aug 2005 12:58 PM |
There are some things that can be passed off as fancy...images of an overblown imagination perhaps. There are others that creep so deep into the psyche that rationalization begins to falter. It grips the very soul and taints the spirit. But the darkness now has a name. And knowing a name is a powerful thing indeed. Terror loses much of its power when it can be labeled, when it can be categorized.
Hovering near sleep within the safety of the dwarven halls, Coruva watched the shadows dance across the stone walls as the candles wavered in an unsteady breeze. They always seemed less menacing, removed from the woods…removed from the red eyes and the unearthly howls. Lex, the watcher at the portal, had told them more than they had hoped to hear. And while some of it seemed no more than riddle and half truths, Shihaya’zad hat put it, perhaps they were the ones making riddles out of what was spoken. Regardless, the truth of the shadows had been put before them. Their origin, their purpose, but not how it could be stopped. He had no doubts that Lex spoke true that The Sleeper was a thing of the old times and old ways. It was not something to be defeated, but to be constrained and held at bay. The question still remained, how could this be accomplished?
He had left that meeting with a newfound hope. And while he had no hopes that the way to free the woods and those that lived within would be an easy thing, he at least left with purpose and direction. There were stronger warriors than he, and those that harnessed the powers of the weave. But if the way was locked in the old tomes and ancient lore then he could perhaps be of some use. Perhaps in the old tomes of the dwarven and elven historians. Perhaps, as Lex had suggested, within the history of the Lyneaum. A feeling of excitement begain to build within him. The answers were so often buried in the past. If The Sleeper had awakened and cast its shadow upon the lands before, there would be some note of it.
But hope was the nemesis of the darkness, and it would not allow it to thrive. The shadows no longer kept to the woods, they had taken the life of a child within Brandibuck. Had snuck in on the cover of darkness and stole the childs breath as the mother slept soundly beside it. Those that stood opposed had not moved fast enough. The darkness was always two steps ahead of them. The unsettling feelings of defeat and uselessness begain to settle over his mind again. Followed by a larger dread of the visions. Why had they plagued him along the forest path? Why had he seen through the wolves eyes…known their purpose and known their prey?
Coruva stood within the confines of his small stone home, deep within the Halls of Bregodim. Sleep would not come to him…or perhaps he feared what the result might be. Another vision through the eyes…the primal desire of the hunt and the smell of fear of the prey that was sought. When it came upon him it was pure….the savage and carnal power of the pack. He grabs his pack and quickly ties the mace that had been his companion over many campaigns to his belt. He would banish these thoughts in a greater purpose. Not let them overtake his mind, but drown them in activity.
Through the mountain passes he strode, and into the sleeping community of Brandibuck. He walked the paths throughout the village, a lighter shadow within the black of night. Vigilance to both protect those within, and vigilance to steel his own mind from the terrors. |
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Re: The word goes out
Posted: 04 Aug 2005 09:28 AM |
Thomas had never shown this to anyone before.
Only a year or two ago had Thomas felt the call of Theus beckoning him out of his small cottage along the edge of Paws, showing him that there was indeed more to life than being a simple carpenter, that his calling would extend beyond his garden.
Only a year or two since he had begun collecting things. Small trinkets, a variety of magical devices, all in some way, at least in his mind, a small measure of Theus' gift upon the world. These gadgets and relics formed in a poorly fashioned basement a strange but mysterious shrine; an altar to the obstinate Lord, he who brought the first arcane magic to the world and taught the ignorant races how to wield it.
Theus would answer his requests and even on occasion provide a number of bonus visions, just enough clarity to see over the horizon but enough to keep the old man searching, walking, and looking for more. Seeking to experience all that he had been shown before his old heart finally stopped beating.
It had been a while since he had returned home, this time his bag filled not with magical devices, but of scrolls of all ranges of power. They would prove a fitting addition to his collection.
Kneeling carefully in an intricately drawn circle, Thomas prayed fervently to his Lord for answers. Syn had sent a myriad terrors to the Bloodwood and the surrounding areas and terrible abominations lured unsuspecting travellers to a horrifying end. He prayed firmly for answers as to what precisely was taking place, who this "Archiax" and "The Sleeper" were, perhaps to where the mirror doors led, and to the doom that would befall Brandibuck and then, the entirety of Vives.
He had seen himself the effect that the wood had upon Vandle's mind, keeping him locked in some sort of nightmare, twisting his will to feed the horrible forest, drown it in blood and in doing so awaken its dark and terrifying inhabitant. He knew that his Lord might hold the answer to these terrors, that perhaps he would look upon Thomas with enough favour to answer this, his greatest prayer.
For hours, staving off food and sleep, Thomas prayed, awaiting an answer. |
- [Rob], Balthor, Jake, and Thomas. |
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Nightmares of Blood
Posted: 05 Aug 2005 01:48 AM |
When you are awake, it is like reading a book, taking in the words in each pages. Some words you ignore, some you take into heart. Some of those words you have not yet read, they are the future, and some were not even written – the future is always shifting, always formed by our choices – though that statement is a subject of argument.
When you sleep, it is like flipping through the same book. The words are mingled and the mind loses all contact with reality. Memories, hopes, thoughts and fears take shape, with no order, no logic in the process. These are called dreams. Sometimes these dreams are filled only with the fears, with the false hopes and with the darker thoughts and memories – those are nightmares.
What happens when you are wide awake, your mind in full contact with the real world that surrounds you, yet the nightmare – it still comes?
In Brandibuck, when the night falls, when the last rays of the sun vanish beyond the western horizon, it happens. Shadows come from the dark places of the world, places left untouched by the light, and creep into your mind. They take those darker things of the mind, those fears, false hopes, dark memories and evil thoughts – they take their shape and then – these things become real. These shadows have their own shapes, and perhaps even their own names, and they haunt you and some even hunt you, until the rays of the sun come from the east and drive them away.
If you are lucky, you endure. If you are lucky, you die.
If you are unlucky, you are driven mad.
* * *
This night was all too similar to the last nights that have embraced the quiet vale.
There was only one difference – this night was accompanied by the echoes of far away screams, screams of the fallen. The voices were large, thick, not those of the right sized or the tall folk – they were the voices of the Ettins. Falling one by one in a bloody massacare, deep inside the darkness that has engulfed Bloodwood.
Thoughts began to race in the minds of those who heard those voices. Were the Ettins attacking? Was there a more dreadful threat that slowly made its way to the vale? Is the world itself breaking apart? It was none of those things.
It was a simple, or perhaps not-so-simple halfling, Alton Highhill. Even to the minds of those with the strongest will and the stoutest of hearts do these shadows crawl. In a bloody massacare of weapons and spells the large two-headed beasts fell to this small figure, their corpses hit the ground with an earth-shaking thud, and the blood is quickly drained away into the thing that has awoken deep below.
A single word echoed throught the forest, carried only by the howling wind: “Feed”.
In only a few moments, the voices of the fallen came to a sudden halt, their lives snuffed away and their essence drained.
* * *
As dawn broke, the halfling found himself waking in his room at the inn of Brandibuck, just like any other morning, a nightmare of blood and death slowly slipping away from his memory.
Just as he left the inn, the rumors have reached his ears – three halfling guards were found away from their posts, all were drained unto the verge of death.
Who could have done such a thing?
The memory has already slipped away. The mystery will remain unsolved. |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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Monsters
Posted: 08 Aug 2005 07:47 PM |
Miramil:
I have met lots of monsters in my time. All or most of them have been intent on eating me or squishifying me or hackifying me or something equally gruesome. I guess you could say I have learned to stay away or avoid that messy fate. In my experience, the best solution is to dash behind something tougher than the bigugly monster and stay there until the monster itself is stomped.
That tactic no longer works.
Scary things are happening around Brandibuck. And that is okay, because Brandibuck is Drama Central and scary and/or significant things ALWAYS happen around here. I mean, the place is a seething mixture of all forms of trouble, looked over by Mister Trouble himself, Kaldair Swiftfoot. It is to be expected.
Well, there is a lesson to be learned from all this. We all look to the outside and wait for the monsters to come in.
But then they attack from the inside.
~*~
I know lots of really tough people. They are just ordinary people, fun to be around, and the only thing that sets them apart is that they can fwazaam a dragon or get clobbered by bigugly ogres and shrug off the damage or other stuff like that. You know. The sort of things that don’t really matter in day-to-day life until danger rears its bigugly head.
It is a fact of life that things change, and that everything you rely on will one day become unreliable. Knowing that does nothing to lessen the impact of betrayal.
It is something we forget from time to time. A harsh thing to be reminded of, but a necessary lesson nevertheless. I guess we should be thankful that life does not like us to forget its lessons, and reminds us of them when we have forgotten:
Nothing in the world is constant. Nothing in the world can be trusted or relied upon. And everything will one day turn against you, one way or another.
In Brandibuck, the defenders have become the monsters.
~*~
“I cannot rely on others.”
“Uh huh. That is the correct attitude to have.”
Bereil & Miramil |
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News
Posted: 22 Aug 2005 04:11 AM |
~News from Players~
Those present at the Fiirhallen Banquet will have learned a way to protect against the hungering nightmares.
* * *
If questioned about the recent troubles in Brandibuck Vale, the Brandibuck guards standing near the exit from Brandibuck Vale to Swiftfoot Hall Grounds will mention that a paladin named Lillian, a Dwarf named Coruva, a white-haired maiden named Blanche and her hound archon Angelius have also seemed to discover a way to protect the hearts and minds of those who have been preyed upon. What that method is, they do not know, as they did not overhear that part of the conversation.
* * *
Salt Sower has left a note with Winky that he will show to all who inquire about the happenings in Bloodwood.
However, Winky will also point out that things have settled down for the past week and a half, and that the trouble seems to have passed completely. |
The subculture of my dreams
Is waiting for me to fall asleep.
I know you're scared—you should be.
I know you're scared. |
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Doors
Posted: 25 Aug 2005 11:35 AM |
Her footsteps echoed hollowly in the corridor that was not really a corridor.
*Click*
A lock came undone. A door creaked open. An ill wind gusted out and wailed. From somewhere beyond the door, voices were speaking.
Ya did this... with that blade... no doubt... there as ta be a remedy...
A small, frightened voice answered.
I dunno ’oo ya are, but lady Vilyave is gonna make a big ’ole once she knows ya took me.
The other voice thundered.
I know this makes no sense now... but ya must remember somethin!
Pleading now, it went on.
Ya must remember somethin... somethin bout what made this happen... er what the purpose was... think!
A third voice joined in, speaking over another voice that was whispering repentant prayers over her.
Arrr... well ya needs ta remember what ya did ta tha lass... so we can elp er.
The wind wailed and slammed the door shut, but not before a final sentence escaped.
Wadda ’ell? Wot ’appened to Miri?
~*~
It was a night like most nights were now. So hard to keep track of time. It all blended together in a blur. She could barely remember days. Only endless nights. That’s all that seemed to exist now. And days... days, when they came, seem drained of all light and warmth. Days were little different.
Questions. Someone was asking questions. She forced herself to focus. Grass. Sky. Night. Moon. Plains. Dwarf.
Coruva.
“Miramil... you remember what happened to you in Brandibuck. Don’t you?” he asked, looking intently into her eyes as he cautiously approached.
“Yes. Night. Knife.” The flickering camp fire made her look more haunted than usual. “Dark.”
“Do you remember anything after that, lass?” Coruva inquired gently.
“Doors.”
~*~
It was not the first time she had been visited by the dream, nor would it be the last. Doors. So many doors. So many possibilities. The future branching out in all directions down a corridor with no beginning and no end.
Usually, the dream was accompanied by the thrill of discovery.
But that once, it had been a nightmare.
That once, one door had opened, and many others had locked themselves shut.
~*~
“Can you tell me what the doors looked like?” Coruva pressed on.
“Like... doors,” Miramil replied with a puzzled look. “Lots of doors. Long corridor. No beginning, no end.”
“Do you know where they went...” The Dwarf leaned down slightly, keeping his eyes at level with her own.
“Outside. And inside,” she told him. “That is what lady said.”
“Who was the lady...”
There was a long pause as she considered how to phrase the answer.
“Lady in recurring dream,” she said slowly.
Another pause, and then the name:
“Zarathustra.”
~*~
Strange that the doors bore no resemblance to the chronological progression of her life. Far-off memories stood beside future possibilities. Sometimes memories were locked and barred. And sometimes the door to the past stood wide open.
How many years had it been since her eighth master had died? Hard to say in this place. The past bled into the present.
“Proper way to remove tick. Take whole thing. Or head burrows,” she was saying to Alton as the past streamed into the present, all blurring together. Her voice seemed to come from a great distance away. Was she awake? “And poisons.”
“Poisons?” he asked. “Wot poison?”
“Eighth master said so.”
Lessons from the past. Think. Recall. Remember. Important. Important somehow that it be passed on.
“Studied brains. And minds,” she went on, holding the door open, letting the past speak through her like a ghost speaking through a channeler.
“Wot did ’e say?”
“She said... metaphor. Used metaphor of tick.” She struggled to summarise years of knowledge into small, coherent sentences. “Not magic. All in the mind.”
Alton frowned slightly as he mulled that over. “Poison in da mind?”
“Poison also metaphor. Not really a poison,” she corrected. “Poison thoughts.”
“Poison thoughts? Wot does dat mean?”
“Don’t know. Eighth master died.”
The door began to swing shut.
“Did ’e say ’ow to cure it?”
“No. She knew too much.”
“Hm. I guess when ya know too much you become like a dragon.”
“Maybe was accident. And maybe not. Killed herself. Because of poison thoughts,” Miramil continued on in that staccato fashion.
“She didn’ say ’ow to make dem go away?” Alton persisted.
“No. Died.”
With all her might, she held the door open. Just a little longer. A little longer and it would be known.
“Nufin’?”
“Before research done,” she continued, ignoring the question.
“Did she ’ave any theories?”
“No. Early research. Died young.”
“Do ya know anybuddy ’oo knows?”
“No one else studies. Everyone thinks... magic. Always magic.”
The sentence finally escaped her before the door quietly shut on the memory.
“Not every problem, magic. And not every solution.”
~*~
Time looped, overlapped, repeated.
Past. Present. Future. Doors opening to each as time folded, unfolded.
Past, present future. Though not necessarily in that order.
~*~
“Lady in recurring dream,” she said slowly.
Another pause, and then the name:
“Zarathustra. Opener of doors.”
Coruva raised an eyebrow wordlessly at the response.
“Some bad doors. Some good doors,” she rambled on. “All in interpretation.”
“Was there anyone in this corridor with you, Miramil?” Coruva inquired.
“No. Corridor of mind. Alone.”
“And did you go through any of the doors?”
“Always,” she said with a certainty she’d lacked during the rest of the interview. “Dream only comes when ready to go through new door.”
“Wus der any strange door?” Alton asked. He’d been quiet up until now, letting Coruva do the questioning.
“No.”
“Miramil... is part a ya still there? Do you still see it... the corridor... the doors?”
“Always.”
How to explain the dream? Surely they’d had it as well. Surely everyone had it, understood it, knew it.
“Metaphor. For life,” she explained in that disjointed way she had now. “And choices. Pathways.
“Turning points.”
“Lass... ya seem full of faculty... but do ya not notice the change in yerself?”
“Change?” The question caught her by surprise. “Change only on outside. Told Alton.”
~*~
“Alton needs to fix you.”
She blinked. “To what?”
“You need to be fixed,” Alton repeated.
Miramil frowned slightly.
“Syn got to you,” he told her bluntly.
“I am functional.”
“Dat’s not good. Machines are functional...” He looked down. “I miss da real Miri.”
“Real?”
“Aye.”
Blinking again, she looked down at her hands, then back up to Alton. “Still real.”
“On da outside, mebbe, not in da inside.”
Doors. So many doors shut so that one could open.
“No,” she said after a long pause. “Other way around.”
“Huh?”
“Same inside.”
“Nope—”
“Different outside.”
“You still look like Miri, but ya dun’ act like ’er,” Alton said.
“Act,” she repeated the word with emphasis. “Act still outside. Not inside.”
“Different act,” she went on. “But same inside.”
~*~
“Change? Change only on outside. Told Alton.”
“Why did ya change on da outside?” Alton pressed.
She cast a blank look towards Alton. “Why?”
~*~
Why.
It was the one word, the one question that the entire informal interview had revolved around.
Why?
~*~
“Dun’ ya fink it ’as sumfin’ to do wiv da knife?” Alton asked her.
~*~
Grass. Sky. Night. Moon. Plains. Dwarf.
Coruva.
“Miramil... you remember what happened to you in Brandibuck. Don’t you?” he asked, looking intently into her eyes as he cautiously approached.
“Yes. Night. Knife.” The flickering camp fire made her look more haunted than usual. “Dark.”
~*~
Knife.
Pointed, black as obsidian, glittering in the starlight. Slashing into her soul and leaving it in bloody tatters.
Knife.
~*~
Door.
A door swung open.
A memory peered out from beyond, like a scar uncovered.
~*~
Something dark and metallic flashed from under Alton’s sleeve and dropped smoothly into his hand. He became a flurry of movement, almost too fast to see, as wispy tendrils of darkness wrapped around him.
A knife slashed out in the night.
~*~
“Sometimes we bury things... hide em away because they tire the mind er the soul too much...”
~*~
Knife. Doors. Puzzle.
Pieces. So many puzzle pieces lying scattered and unsolved.
Something stirred within. Some deep-seated instinct that needed things solved, solutions invented, answers found.
~*~
“Miramil... would you like to speak to the lady again... that told the story of the corridor and doors?” Coruva asked slowly.
“She only appears when it is time.”
“Time fer wot?” Alton inquired.
“Dream inside. Reflects life outside,” Miramil clarified. “Time for door to open.”
~*~
“Miramil... is part a ya still there? Do you still see it... the corridor... the doors?”
“Always. Metaphor. For life. And choices. Pathways.
“Turning points.”
~*~
Somewhere, footsteps echo in an endless corridor. Somewhere, someone tests door after door after door, searching, trying. Trying every door until the solution to the puzzle can be discovered.
The search continues. Slowly but surely it continues.
No Gnome likes to leave a puzzle unsolved. |
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Catalyst
Posted: 11 Oct 2005 02:26 PM |
Conn stood on the hill overlooking the great plains. Through the darkness he could barely make out the sickening glow of a hundred blades griped by hands of giants barely seen. Lex stood beside him with a bueatiful, but mysterious woman named Grace.
"Maria's Army" He said. "She has promised to take them home again. Home to that cursed island."
The army led by a wizard in black robes, slowly sandered its way from the plains toward its destionation. War was imminet that night but none among the living would likely ever see it.
"I have a weapon Lex. A weapon to fight Maria." Conn said with a sigh as the army moved off.
"perhaps we should find somewhere a little safer to talk...."
Lex told Grace to head for home. She smiled charmingly and headed off into the darkness with a haunting air. She had an aura that conveyed a great sadness. Lex spoke of a friend in paws, and that there it would be safe to talk. So the two headed off in the morning hours to sit and have tea and discuss the coming days.
Lex told Conn that Archiax was not the problem that they had to face. Archiax is essentially a mouth. A mouth that feeds and devours. The real problem is the brain behind the mouth. Likely a high priest of Syn. A being very old and -very- powerful. They would have to find this being and find some way to stop it. Also he told Conn to search Brandibuck for someone who was alive during the last attack of Archiax. Likely a Gnome because of thier long lives. Also they would need to find a force to guard the newly uncovered portal in Mirghul. The rangers there are no longer able to handle the shadows that will emerge when the portals protections finally fail. They were great warriors once but they are no longer organized.
Conn and Lex parted ways about miday. Both headed off to do thier duties. The days ahead would be frantic, but it had to be done. Syn has to be stoped. Conn would do what ever it took. He thumbed the vial of holy water hanging aound his neck. He would put Maria on the backburner for just a little while but her time will come...... |
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Blood and Nightmares
Posted: 17 Oct 2005 02:16 PM |
"Gentlemen."
Mälakhi smiled as he surveyed the the crumbling town of Maldovia before him, now ornamented with barrels of explosives.
"We are about to accomplish what all of Midor has been unable to do for a hundred years. Congratulations."
He looked on stroking the head of his raven, as Conn and Jubei placed the last of the charges. Syn's Tower simply no longer existed and the town would soon follow suit. He felt a pang of longing for the town only momentarily. Soon Maldovia would be nothing more than a memory, written into history texts along with the names of Jubei Murasame, Connavar, and Mälakhi Aquistine.
The irony was not lost on him, of course. Mälakhi had come to know Syn very well over the last year. Entropy and dissolution are Syn's alone. The silence that hung over the town seemed testament to His approval of the demolition. They did not see it because they did not care to.
They had left Maldovia much as they had came, quickly and quietly.
They had come as heros and as fools, but had emerged victorious, nonetheless.
He, however, cared nothing for this. He sought -her- and her alone. |
Malakhi Aquistine
Erick Whitestone |
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Re: Blood and Nightmares
Posted: 02 Nov 2005 02:20 AM |
(Just want to say great event. Thanks to all the DM's and players involved through out this entensive event. I had great fun and enjoyed every second of it. Even all the nightmares causes by those two wacky DM's (i dare not speak thier names). I do not think i will ever sleep soundly again!!!
Just wanted to give a shout out and my thanks.
Conn.) |
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Liberation
Posted: 02 Nov 2005 03:45 AM |
Just like that and it's over.
The people of Brandibuck return to their homes. The darkness retreats back to the black corners of the world. The corruption fades from the earth. The gods continue their cosmic struggle. It ended as it began... quietly.
Before long it will be forgotten, just as it were four hundred years ago. It is the fate of such silent things to be forgotten - they do not stand out amongst the many disasters that plague the world. Only a few will remember what transpired in these days, and how this catastrophe was avoided. Perhaps that is for the best.
Destruction was never the means with which this evil could be fought. Silly big ones. They did not realize it until the end, and some of them did not even then. Some probably never will. Silly Byron and Garrak - they have to be a little nuts in the head. Why else would they plan attack darkness with a blade? Alton knew he had to put aside his weapons long ago, but then he's not a big one.
So the darkness is pushed back for a few more centuries. Destruction would serve its purposes all the same - whether it destroys its foes or its foes destroy it. This darkness has come and gone since the beginning of time. Alton now realized the full meaning of Lex's words by now - sometimes stasis is favorable to destruction. Perhaps that, too, is for the best.
The silly dragoness left. She probably didn't want to leave. Her sadness could be seen from miles away (mostly due to her size). He could not help it but feel a little sad for her. Being an immortal must be a painful thing, it seemed to be especially so for that creature. Perhaps she will return again, but he will not live to see that. As long as she flies somewhere in the skies, however, lady Vilyave will watch after her, of that he was certain. She deserves to be watched after.
The Sword was locked away. The Serpent was pushed back. All signs of corruption were gone. But the darkness can bring back all of them. It can surely be expected again, but not in this lifetime - such is liberation. |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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