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The Lamb
Posted: 21 Dec 2005 04:06 PM |
Outside, the rain beat a tattoo on the windowpanes. The sound echoed throughout the study, where the small fire and few candelabras made a poor attempt to keep the darkness at bay. It was a room that in another context might be considered cheery, not unlike the countless common rooms at taverns scattered throughout Vives. However, instead of the animal heads or battle trophies that might adorn those walls, these were almost completely bare, save the rather large tapestry depicting a familiar heroic figure on horseback riding into the gates of a white city. It was spartan and sere, a place that suited the demeanor of its inhabitant with uncanny accuracy.
Father Linus Kate read the reports on his desk, his wrinkle-framed eyes dancing across the page like a leaf on the wind, the dim light reflecting growing excitement in his eyes. She had gone to Ferein for an extended period of time... how perfect.
He put the detailed reports down for a minute and slid his glasses up his face, rubbing his tired eyes as a small smile graced his lips. He couldn't have planned this out, but it was all happening so perfectly, an outside observer would have to believe he had more to do with it. He hoped that his superiors would have that opinion, and perhaps reward him accordingly.
"Ulalume, Ulalume... what fine post are you going to earn me?" he found himself saying aloud. As he read these details of her life since she left the academy, he could almost see his former theology student in his mind's eye, going about the business of a newly-minted Knight Errant of Midor... helping the poor and the downtrodden, defeating monsters, blah blah blah. His lips curled briefly as he thought of the beatings she must have received, the wounds and bruises and blows to her spirit. He nodded his head slightly, returning his reading glasses to their functional position and examining the reports further... yes, she had had her misadventures, most recently in the mountains above Icy Vale, at the hands of a rather belligerent frost giant. He chuckled. My dear girl, what were you -thinking-?
Revenge was sweet. Her trite comments in his classes had begun the first day he had seen her, and his hatred for her had grown steadily since. Prissy little brat, always with a neat little answer for everything.. filthy family of traitors. He had known since her first essay that she was destined to follow in the footsteps of her disgraced uncle, the fool who had perished at the Battle of the Great Plain, whose name was now complete anathema to all right-minded Midorans. She had even ceased using her given family name, inventing a new moniker when the whispers of her classmates and instructors had grown too loud for her to ignore. Oh, how he had relished that day, when news had reached her of her "esteemed" uncle's treachery. He thanked Midoran profusely that it had been during his class that the details of the battle and its participants had reached them, after the bodies were sorted and the full extent of the carnage known. He had argued fiercely against her matriculation, citing the rebellious tendencies so glaringly obvious in her essays and discussion contributions. Had her final test not gone absolutely perfectly, he would have succeeded in convincing enough of his fellow faculty to keep the spurs off her feet.
But now she was proving useful. His slight suggestions and nudgings toward the path of Errantry had found root, and now it was only a matter of time until she came into contact with those traitors in Ladriel, the so-called Last Son and his band of pathetic wanna-bees who called themselves the Heralds of the Aristi. He knew they would sway her. They must. When they did, his spies would chronicle every step of their recruitment process and training methods. Through her, the seeds of their destruction would be sown, and his own ascendancy up the heirarchy assured.
He swirled the brandy in his snifter and pondered. Midoran's Might, but he loved the holiday season. The rain lessened, the liquid warmth of the brandy flowed through his body, and all was wonderful. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 22 Dec 2005 11:42 AM |
Ulalume trod up the steps to the church with a heavy heart. This day had troubled her deeply, had shaken her faith to its very core and almost forced her over the edge to... what? Rebellion? Disgrace? She shuddered and looked back at the still-roaring pyre of the four condemned criminals across the fountain. Thank you, Midoran. Thank you for saving me from such a fate. I am unworthy of your Love and pity, but I shall do my best to cleanse my soul of its burden.
She entered the temple and immediately felt the familiar sensation of His presence, that tingling sensation of being watched that non-believers felt so oppressive, but believers like her knew the truth. Just last week she had been engaged in battle with fearsome undead foes, mummies that had sent others running in fear. But not her. She knew this presence was with her, Midoran was always watching over her and even if she should fall in battle, she knew that she would know His divine love in the afterlife. That erased all fear from her mind, and gave her peace that no non-believer could ever understand.
That was what had brought her back. That was why the words of the Aristi, so seductive in some ways, had ultimately washed over her and found her unmoved, like a rock on the shoreline. Tomas De Torquemada had recited their Code, and she had listened. Afterwards, she had one simple question: "If you worship no god, yet you swear to do what is Just and what is Honorable, how do you know what is just and what is honorable?" "What does your heart tell you?" he had responded. Then she knew. She knew this whole rebellion was a tragic mistake, that the call of the Aristi was a tempting but ultimately false idealistic movement that was doomed to fail. The human heart, she knew, was fickle and emotional and ultimately unreliable. Sometimes the heart told one to do the wrong thing for the right reasons.
She had asked Cedrych to talk with her following the ceremony, her head filled with questions, her heart with grief. Ah, that heart so valued by the Aristi, she thought with a wry smile. The spoke at length at the Unicorn, then she had asked him to walk with her. She knew some of the questions she had to pose to him should not be done within the city... they had made their way to the Great Plain, the site of her family's downfall, and she had asked him - what if Midoran's will has been subverted somehow? What if Vidus Khain was somehow duping everyone? He had responded well, not with outrage, but with an open mind. It had been a good discussion, and she felt her respect and admiration for the man growing with every word. He was a true believer, but still kept his mind open to possibilities. He used his faith as a compass, not a narrow path from which he would never deviate. The burnings troubled him as much as it did her, but his faith allowed him to see the bigger picture.... it kept his heart in check, she thought. She knew this was a man she could trust.
Then she had caught movement in her peripheral vision, and her guilty conscience immediately thought that spies had followed them from Midor. They rushed to the north to investigate, and saw the last people on Vives that they expected.
Tomas De Torquemada and Lillian Blackstone, two rebel paladins who now claimed to follow the ways of the Aristi, were speaking in hushed tones next to a cairn. Neither saw them as they approached. She looked at Cedrych with amazement. In hindsight, she knew they had been sent by Midoran to aid them in their hour of confusion. Hearing the words of the Aristi from their lips had brought clarity to her mind and heart, and had refocused her faith. She knew that as much as she might disagree with the way the church was run, she would never abandon Midoran.
It was then that she realized that she and Cedrych had a clear duty in this matter: these were rebels. Of course, if their hearts were no longer with Midoran and His church, they were free to leave. But these two had raised arms against their church, their nation, and their people. They had been entrusted to uphold the laws and traditions of Midor, and they had raised their swords against her. No crime could be more serious. No act could cry out more for justice. So they would arrest them and bring them back to Midor, even if it meant falling in the process of trying. She looked at the black robes that she and Cedrych wore, then over at the plate armor sported by their counterparts. She knew their chances of success were almost nothing, but she also knew they had no choice. Duty called, and she would answer.
It was then that Lillian Blackstone, ever the scholar, invoked an ancient rite: the Test of the Pure Heart. It had arisen from the Insurrection of 437, when a group of paladins had rebelled against the orders of a superior to slay unarmed combatants. It was a classic point of debate within the Academy, when individual conscience could circumvent the chain of command. As a test, the paladins in question had each been subjected to a sword strike by an Inquisitor, a blow that would prove fatal if it landed. The Inquisitor would invoke the power of Midoran to guide his blade, and the accused would profess their purity on pain of death. If the blow landed, justice would be done. If it missed, it was Midoran's will that they be spared.
Beads of sweat formed on Cedrych's forehead as he approached Lillian, his greatsword drawn. She looked at him dispassionately, her blonde hair blowing gently against her forehead, her arms outstretched to her sides in the ceremonial stance of one standing before judgement. She softly spoke the ceremonial words proclaiming her innocence as Cedrych raised his sword and intoned Midoran's name. There was a perfect moment when their voiced blended together and concluded in the same instant, and their eyes locked in silence. Then, suddenly, Cedrych's sword fell in a terrible arc. It was a blow that would have fell a tree, but it stopped an inch from Lillian's unflinching face. There was no hesitation on Cedrych's part, there was no jerking of muscles - it was as if all inertia had simply lef the sword and it was suspended in space. All four of them looked at one another.
Even though she knew the outcome, she repeated the ceremony on Tomas, and her sword stopped inches from the top of his head, just the same. She and Cedrych lowered their swords and took a few steps back.
"Give us half an hour start, that is all I ask," intoned Lillian, her eyes bright in the moonlight. "I have an old man to relocate." Ulalume had glanced at Cedrych and nodded.
She approached one of the Righteous Swords within the temple, her pulse quickening. Half an hour, she had promised. No more.
"Sir, I am Ulalume A'Midori, Knight Errant of Midoran. I have information regarding the rebellion that must be acted on immediately."
Midoran's will be done. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 09 Jan 2006 09:42 PM |
Ferein.
Ulalume cocked her head to one side. She could hear nothing. Well, that wasn't exactly true - there was no such thing as pure silence in Ferein. Even when nothing else was making noise, there was always a faint... hum about the place that seemed to grow less and less conspicuous the more time you spent there. After four days, she already had to concentrate to distinguish the sound. She supposed to one who lived here, it would have faded into distant memory. She supposed it was simply life, abundant and primal like no where else in Vives, resonant in every rock and tree and blade of grass in Ferein.
She had come here after Talion's death to make some sense of things. Several events had added up to a general feeling of despair in her - despite her best efforts, most still treated her as a leper once they found out she followed the Narrow Path of Midoran. She had been spit upon, insulted, mocked and propositioned every day since she had arrived in Port, and it was starting to wear on her. With the approaching holiday season only serving to remind her of the shambles in which her family had been left after the rebellion, she decided that some time away was just what she needed.
And so she had come, a wide-eyed human walking through the paths of Ferein, triggering looks ranging from bemused confusion to outright hostility from the elves she passed. Her gleaming suit of armor marked her as an outsider clearer than if she had put a sign around her neck, and at first she wondered if this had been such a good idea. Then she had met Ahmandriel outside the palace.
He had taken her to his home, introduced her to his family, and had talked with her. When she spoke, he listened. In him, she sensed a greater sense of wisdom and serenity than in almost anyone else she had ever known, and after the second day she finally worked up the courage to inquire about what he did.
"I train archers," was his simple reply.
The following day he had taken her for a walk, as he had done every day since, as he would do every morning for the remainder of the week she was to spend here. They spoke of good and evil, balance and nature, mercy and justice. As they neared the glowing windows of his home at twilight, he had stopped suddenly.
"There is a rat beneath the tree about seventy yards to our right." He did not ask a question with his voice, he did not seek confirmation from her.
"I understand that elves have better vision than humans..." she began, and was quickly silenced by him turning around and walking back to where she stood.
"I did not see it with my eyes. I felt it, here..." he pointed to his chest. "I can feel its life force, as I can feel the life force in the tree, in you, in the grass beneath our feet.. because I do not rely on my eyes, they cannot play tricks on me, or pass on the tricks of others. When you learn to see with this inner eye, the eye of truth, then nothing can be hidden from you. You think of this as the guidance of your all-powerful god - perhaps it is. Perhaps it is the Seed of Life planted by Aros in every living thing, that yearns for other living things and points the way to them. The important thing is, if you want to be an archer that never misses, you must learn to look from here," once again, he pointed to his chest, "rather than here," he tapped his finger gently next to her eye.
She looked at him a moment. "Why are you telling me this? I'm sure this is a secret important to the security of your people..."
"I have my reasons," he said quietly. "Just as I had my reasons to strike up a conversation with you in front of the palace.. perhaps Aros led me there to find you. Perhaps he moves me now to share this secret with you. Perhaps you shall repay my trust by one day using this gift for the good of my people..." he trailed off, looking out over the treetops. "Perhaps I am merely afraid of my craft being lost as my own people put more and more faith in the strength of their arm or the keeness of their eyes. In any case, I would spend some time with you now, and perhaps we may see if your eye will open."
Over the next three days she had walked for miles in this seemingly never-ending forest, tracing the bark of trees with her hands and tracking squirrels through the trees. Ahmandriel had been silent most of the time, except when he had given her brief instructions. Today he had simply said, "Find me," before disappearing into the forest. At first she had instinctively looked for the normal tracking signs - footprints, bend branches, and the like - but the elf had left nothing. It was as if he had turned to mist as he moved among the trees.
Now she was at the edge of a meadow, confident for some reason that he had come this way. She had done what he had told her - she closed her eyes and tried to allow the energies around her to trace patterns on the inside of her eyelids, and allow whatever images would come to form there... to her astonishment things actually did begin to coalesce, although it seemed to be gibberish or images formed out of her own conscious mind at first. She couldn't tell where her own suggestions ended and the truth began - until a flash of movement made her open her eyes in surpise. Ahead she saw nothing but foliage obscuring her view.
She had felt ridiculous, walking through the forest, hitting her face into trees and tripping over roots, but she kept her eyes closed and followed the flashes that she somehow recognized. It had led her here, to the edge of this clearing, where she now listened for any clue as to what her instructor had in mind for her.
She slowly moved to the treeline, and gasped audibly. In the middle of the clearing sat Ahmandriel, with an apple atop his head and his eyes closed. Thirty paces before him was an outcropping of stone.... she walked ahead and knew what was to happen.
Her left foot perched upon the rock, giving her stability as she set her arms. She sighted along the arrow, trying to get a bead on the apple. The small tremors of her arms magnified themselves and magnified as they moved along the bow and the arrow shaft, making an accurate shot almost impossible - she simply wasn't good enough. She felt despair creeping into her head.
She reached for the only thing she could - she prayed. She asked Midoran for guidance in this act, for protection for her friend and mentor, for forgiveness if her presence here in the land of elves was somehow an affront to Him.
She closed her eyes and saw him sitting in the middle of the grass - well, not exactly, but she saw a blob of brightness in the middle of a larger pool of dimmer brightness. She zereod in on an area at the top fo the blob that was significantly darker than the rest and released the bowstring.
The flight of the arrow lasted what seemed like an hour, during which she had enough time to picture every possible repercussion from a mistake: the family she had met suddenly hating her, her being run out of Ferein ahead of a lynch mob, the nation of the elves declaring war against Midor...
The thwack of the arrow into the apple opened her eyes. Her instructor was smiling.
"Very good, my friend. The more you use this eye, the greater the truths that shall be revealed to you. Use it well." |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 15 Feb 2006 07:17 AM |
Ulalume carefully scraped the surface of the newly-revealed feldspar in the stone on the table, pausing occasionally to dip her gemcrafter's blade in the flask of oil sitting next to her work area. Every motion was controlled and precise, her hands rock-steady and her eyes looking beyond the sheath of rock, inward to the beauty of the gem she was trying to reveal.
Since her exile and excommunication, she had spent a lot of time in the back room at Omiga's. It was one of the few places where she could escape the pain of her situation. The focus demanded by her new hobby required all of her attention - not like curing hides, which left her with many empty minutes as she stomped around in the curing vat in her bare feet, working the salt and tanning acid into the fibers of the hide. Too many empty minutes, when her mind was allowed to drift, and think about the past. The future. Mistakes. Old friends.
But here she was completely focused on this piece of earth in her hands, her mind's eye clearly seeing the end result that her hands tried to produce through their slow, tedious movements. Gemcrafting reminded her in a lot of ways of a life of faith: both required patience and dedication. Both were indirect - she was not seeking to cut through the stone, merely reveal what was underneath and already there; similarly the source of one's faith could never be directly observed, it had to be revealed through the actions of the faithful. Both resulted in great beauty and value. Both required the ability to see beyond the immediate here and now.
This activity had given her an immense amount of relief, both from the solace it provided and the paths it led her mind on as she tirelessly scrape, scrape, scraped the surface of the stones. She had a conversation with Natalyia earlier about building an orphanage on Port Plaza, and she realized that this was something she could do, something she could get behind and make happen, something that would affect those around her in a positive way. She had pledged her support, even as Natalyia had intoned "a man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones." How could she have known the exact metaphor that had so occupied Ulalume's mind these past days?
Earth and stone.. hidden value... tireless scraping... eventual triumph. This was how she would rebuild her life, rebuild what she had been into something... perhaps better? Something more aware of what it was serving and the place it held in the world. Something that mattered.
She picked up the stone and looked at it with a newly-practised eye. Complete. She put it on a towel to soak up the excess oil, and turned to her cougar skin bag containing about thirty more cut, unpolished stones from her most recent trip. At this rate, the remainder of the bag should... ensure she was here for a few more meals, at least. She stretched her aching hands and craned her head around on her neck, smiled, and reached in the bag for another piece of potential. One stone at a time, that would be her path back to a place where the world made sense again, back to a world where she mattered again.
One stone at a time. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 01 May 2006 03:54 PM |
A single drop of water fell through the early morning mist, gathering momentum until it reached terminal velocity roughly eleven seconds after it coalesced into a whole large enough to come under the influence of gravity in the first place. It accreted droplets and vapor as it fell, gaining still more mass and thus more velocity, until it spatered unceremoniously upon the forehead of the woman sitting on the dew-blanketed grass, legs and arms folded, eyes closed.
She felt the drop, and her eyes opened suddenly. She had the look of someone who had forgotten some fact and striven long and hard to remember it, only to do so after she had stopped thinking on it so hard.
It all made sense. Suddenly everything that had knotted her up inside over the past three months, everything that had driven her away from civilization, with direct contact with anyone at all, everything that had kept something closed and private from the one man she wished to share everything with - suddenly it all melted away. She knew.
It was so simple.
All this time, ever since hearing Duvados' words and recognizing that there must indeed be some overarching being that was behind everything, but unseen to the mortals of Vives, she had been waiting, waiting for this God to reveal itself to her the way Midoran had in her youth. The way that Midoran had revealed himself to the armies assembled on the Great Plains the day her uncle had died.
But now she realized that revelation should have been a clue - Midoran was too eager to show himself; that in and of itself suggested he was not what he claimed to be, the way that the true powers in a city rarely revealed themselves directly, but their agents were always quick to assume power and authority that was beyond them.
The drop had accumulated mass as it fell, she knew. In and of themselves, the tiny droplets that constituted it were insignificant, but together they formed something that was massive enough to dampen her forehead, and many drops together could cause a flood. The acts of people were the same. The ultimate origins of either, she realized, were completely insignificant compared to the ultimate consequences they were capable of unfolding. How deliciously Midoran - a faith based upon practical causality.
What she knew now was that she was foolish to be waiting for this God to reveal himself - what she should be striving for was to reveal herself, something that Midoran had never really required - something he had even discouraged. It was almost shameful for a Midoran to reveal too much of their own heart to anyone, as if they were placing some unwanted burden on someone else - no, she thought, it was as if they were admitting they might actually need something. She had been ingrained with the need for self-reliance since she was a child: she was not allowed to cry for anyone she lost, even though her childhood had been a series of funerals and receptions. She was never permitted to show the slightest twinge of weakness, and this, she realized, had been her greatest weakness.
Reveal thyself, she mused. It was a command with a double-meaning quite the opposite of its implied, obvious one. Suddenly she leapt up and began gathering the scant possessions in her modest camp. She had people to see - one in particular, and a world to rejoin. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 15 May 2006 05:02 PM |
Ulalume sat aboard the Aegea, watching the dolphins jump and play about the bow as it cut though the water towards home. While she had enjoyed her time at Villa Candela and planned on spending a lot of time there in the future, it was Port Royale that called to her now - something had died inside her with the destruction of the Isle and the Academy. Old Midor would always burn in her heart, but it was no longer home. She felt so alive in Port - there was always something going on, interesting people to meet, dangers to face.... hearts and minds to win over. She had never shrunk from a challenge, and as the harbor rose out of the ocean mist, she knew she would spend the rest of her days trying to help make Port a little bit better for everyone who lived there.
She had spent the previous week in Gladden, in what had started as a reconaissance mission but had turned into so much more.... she thought on what she had told the half-orc Ophelia in Mineath just hours before... "You and I come from the same people." While she had always intellectually known that to be true, for the first time in her life it actually dawned on her what that meant. Just as her own city was seeded with the descendants of the ancient city of Lynaeum, so too was M'Gok Tukar seeded with the descendants of Midor. The qualities she always loved and admired in her own people were also to be found in the proud but reclusive half-orc population that lived just over the desolate pass outside of Gladden: resilience, honor, tradition, unshakable faith... how could the folk of Gladden be so blinded by their green skin and sloping brows?
One day as she scoured the farms of Gladden for witnesses to an event, she overheard a heated exchange between two farmers - apparently there was livestock missing and both were getting angrier and angrier, sure that the half-orcs had done it and adamant that they needed to be taught a lesson.
Unsure what she was doing, she presented herself and assumed an authority which she technically no longer held in the lands of Midor. She knew if either farmer took offense to her actions Red Swords would be summoned, and as much as her swordsmanship had improved in the months since she first journeyed to Port Royale as a knight errant, she would be no match for an entire squad of the new military elite of Midor.
To her pleasant surprise, they listened to her. When she pledged to look into the matter, they brusquely accepted the proposition and seemed genuinely glad to see someone pay attention to their troubles. When she approached them two hours later with news of the troll tracks near their pastures, they seemed genuinely surprised. She would travel to M'Gok Tukar and make sure, she promised. But their fire had been successfully quenched, and they assured her it would not be necessary.
We are all one.
She had gone anyway, wondering if she might observe the same kind of prejudice among the green neighbors to the north. At first she was greeted with skepticism, if not downight hostility (luckily she had remembered to change from her gleaming white, unmistakably paladin-esque armor into an unassuming traveling tunic and breeches), but when she stayed and ate and drank with them, some began to see in her a genuine desire for understanding. Her biggest moment of acceptance was when she followed tradition and spent time assailing the whack-whack pillar on the hillside overlooking the settlement. Apparently however far pure motives and healthy respect gets you, you are always up for bigger and better standing in the orcish community by the amount of punishment you can deliver to a noncombatant piece of wood.
In any case, it had worked. She spoke with them, and they listened to her. She brought some of their concerns back to the people of Gladden, and they listened. She made several more trips, her last one culminating in an exchange of dignitaries. If it was true that Vidus Khain looked to M'Gok Tukar as the first target to begin his overt campaign, Ulalume hoped that her work here this week would at least postpone those plans, that the understanding she sowed would have time to grow into something that might someday replace the hatred and fear preached by the Red Bishop of Midor. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 10 Jun 2006 04:14 AM |
Ulalume's eyes closed, her body wilting in the grip of her attacker. Such strong hands on such a slight figure she thought as the darkness closed in around her and her extremities started to go numb...
The journey to Maldovia had come up suddenly, and she had acquiesced to going just as suddenly, not giving her companions the least bit of reason to suspect that the place had dominated her thoughts lately. The truth was, the world had grown safer and safer lately, with her most dangerous adversaries consisting of theological paradoxes and philosophical hypotheticals. Such an existence was fine for the cloistered ascetic, but paladins were soldiers. They were born and bred to face evil head-on, with no nuances to consider or foibles to take into account. Lucius needed to recover black cohosh root, which Ulalume suspected was a consequence of Frobozz discovering his earlier tresspass and holding him accountable. However the situation had arisen, it was finally allowing her to test her mettle against a place that had always haunted her, where the evil coalesced in the air and dripped from the trees like condensation, a place where she could actually fight something, rather than being forced to compromise with it.
And so they had come, she and Rosen and Talion and Lucius, charging across the bridge like a crashing wave, sweeping away any foe that happened to cross their path. They crashed ashore on Maldovia, cutting down spectres and walking dead like flotsam. Ulalume could feel the strength pulsing through her arms with every swing, felt their feeble blows glance off her gleaming armor and knew in her heart that this is what she was meant do to. This must be what Lucius feels when he weaves magic, she thought.
They made their way to the estate grounds, and then down into the crypt, where they defeated a foul demoness and her hound guardians. After some deliberation, they decided to rest in one of the empty chambers, but Ulalume could have no rest in such a place. She watched both Lucius and Rosen doze in the faint firelight, but not Talion. He watched Ulalume with a measured, even look that made her think of the walking dead.
Inside the city they made their way to the temple, which was a sight that Ulalume longed to share with her sister in arms. Something about they style was very reminiscent of their faith, and she longed to bask in the light of the temple interior.
Talion, however, did not share their comfort within the temple, and urged them to leave as soon as possible. As they exited, the ran across a creeper in the streets, and they all scattered in differet directions. Ulalume felt one section of the creeper hot on her heels. She led it around and around, knowing that her blade was useless against it, and finally ran into Lucius, who blasted it into oblivion. She felt her lungs burning from her exertion, so she placed her hands on her hips and took long, deep breaths, hazarding a look over at Talion. He was not sweating, wasn't even breathing hard, and yet she knew he had run just as much as she, and in heavier armor.
At once they noticed that Rosen was missing. Ulalume heard no footfalls, and knew something was wrong. They found her in a blind alley - apparently she had taken a wrong turn with a creeper on her heels, and had nowhere to run. Ulalume looked down on her friend with a deep sense of responsibility. She knew how dangerous this place was, Rosen had never really seen. She should not have allowed the creeper to separate them. Just then, Lucius did something that made Ulalume reconsider her earlier judgement of him, something she almost never did: he prayed.
She could not hear him, but she guessed that he prayed to his patron god, Theus. Truth be told, it wan't really important to her to whom he offered prayer - the fact that he was humbling himself before anything was truly remarkable to Ulalume's eye, and the fact that he did so in the apparent service of a paladin of her order meant that he deserved better than the treatment she had offered him lately.
His scroll failed to revive her, so they retreated to the temple to think - much to Talion's chagrin, Ulalume noted. It was decided that their best course of action was to head for the Sunbringer' compound, on the other side of Melody marsh.
So they made their way towards the gates, Talion carrying Rosen over his shoulder without so much as a hitch in his gait, Ulalume with sword and shield drawn, Lucius carrying his ridiculous staff. It was dark beyond the gate, but Ulalume could tell something was wrong, even before she saw the first arrow clip by Lucius' head.
Vampiresses. They led an ambush of walking dead and hounds against them, cutting off the path to the swamp and moving them back into the city. She dimly heard the command to fall back, but she saw that her friends would never make it before the vampiresses cut them off. She advanced, her visor down, her teeth clenched. Of course, these evil cowards wouldn't face her conventionally, instead melding into the shadows around her, tapping her shoulder from behind, laughing in her ear, taunting her by dragging their fingernails across the cheek of her helm as she fought two in front of her. She could feel the madness and fear tugging at the corners of her mind, but refused to allow it entry. You shall not have me this day, she reolved to herself. Perhaps I shall fall one day, but this i not that day.
She felt her blade bite once, twice into her opponent, who suddenly lost her playful quality and snarled at her in pain. Here they come, she thought. She parried and ducked as best she could, but overcompensated on one approach, and felt her head caught in the cold, viselike grip of one of them... and marveled at the strength present in those tiny, cold hands.
"I shall feast on your soul," she whispered to Ulalume as she bared her teeth.
Her soul was not something she would give up lightly. She could her voices from her past, people who had urged her on in the face of adversity - instructors, maids, superiors, people she had helped... Jerec. She knew he would not want her to go this way, to succumb to and nourish the darkness she had fought against her whole life. He had dunked her in that water and brought her back again, newly born into a world that needed her, peopled with souls that needed others who believed. Fail she might, but she would always believe.
"Not... this... day!" Ulalume tried to shout, but could barely manage a whisper, as the vampiress' aura enveloped her. She could feel her sharp teeth tickling the skin on her neck, and closed her eyes. She channeled every ounce of strength she had remaining into focusing the light, bringing it to bear on the figure that held her, infusing her with light. She heard a scream, smelled burning flesh and felt the grip release her. She allowed herself a brief smile, knowing that the two others would tear her to shreds, but content that surely her friends would escape.
She opened her eyes to face her end, and saw the world freeze.
...
Streaks of light peppered her foes, and they vanished soundlessly in a cloud of mist. One, two, three... they were all gone.
...
Then she saw Lucius streak by and vaporize a hound that was frozen in mid-crouch, and she understood what had happened.
Once the dweomer wore off, she re-joined the fight and cut a path to the swamp. Whatever was different about Talion, his motives seemed in line with hers, at least for the time being. He carried Rosen over his shoulder with all the effort of a man carrying a towel to the riverside to bathe. He would get Rosen to the compound, that was all that mattered.
In the swamp they met more horrors - a walking mountain of earth, wisps of light that sought to lead them to their doom in the deep swamp, more hounds. Ulalume continued to cut and parry, inching along through the muck. It was there, about a hundred paces from the edge of the swamp and safety with the Sunbringers, that she saw the stone.
It was a monument to a fallen angel, an angel named Avadielle. The name froze Ulalume in her tracks. She knew that name.
It was some moments before she knew where she was. Her mind had been sent reeling back in time, back to her baptism in the ceremonial font of the Coruscanti, back to a meeting she had in a vision with a celestial being so bright, so radiant that she could scarce look at it directly. So beautiful, she had thought, with delicate, feathery wings folded across her back. She had told her to kneel, and knighted her herself, and angel of light bestowing sanctity upon someone who needed to be needed. Did she have any questions? she had asked.
"Yes," said Ulalume. "What is your name?"
The answer had come like the chiming of a thousand delicate bells, but Ulalume could hear something deep within, a name that started with an A, sounded delicate, and ended in a soft "iel" sound... could it have been the same angel as was referenced on the stone? Avadielle?
"Ulalume?" Her eyes swam and she saw Lucius in front of her, his spell making his face a stony mass of concern. "Can you hear me?"
She shook her head to clear it. "Yes. I am fine, thank you." She walked toward the camp without further pause, her chin firm and her step resolute.
She would speak of this to Lillian. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 06 Jul 2006 01:57 PM |
I am Ulalume A'Midori. I travel to dark places and do battle with evil for the sake of those who cannot. I protect the weak and the helpless. I stand without fear against those who would do harm to others.
It had been a long day of travel, and Ulalume felt every bone in her back crack as she dismounted the horse. Shira was a reliable source of transportation to Brandibuck, but that reliability came at a cost. As a knight she had been practically born in the saddle, but even she was sorely tested in her horsemanship to keep up with Shira's torrid pace across the desert plains - understandably to avoid bandits and manticores, but it had its casualties, as well. Ulalume knew that many adventurers could not keep up with Shira, and found themselves alone in the desert, watching the rapidly disappearing dust trail of the caravan in the distance.
Today the casualty was her back, and she was positively drooling at the thought of Villa Candela and a nice, relaxing bath. She would remain here in Brandibuck for the night, if there were any tubs in town that she could get more than her legs into. Maybe Salt had a tub... remembering his normal, earthy odor (and the fact that he lived in a hole in the ground next to mushrooms), she quickly decided he probably didn't.
She made her way up the carefully manicured road towards the coast, her white armor gleaming like a beacon in the night - not that she needed anything to be more conspicuous. She was three heads taller than everyone else in town, a giant woman dressed in respendent white armor and helm with visor down (with a slight limp) - it was only a matter of time before trouble found her. It came, as it turned out, in the guise of a small hin child who tugged on her cape as she passed, his eyes full of fear and tears. She knelt and regarded him, her heart melting at his innocence. Yes, she assured him - she helped people in trouble. Yes, she wore white armor because she was a good lady. Yes, she could keep a secret.
What she heard next made her blood run cold and brought her to her feet, the pain from her aching back suddenly shut off like a dripping faucet. Playmates, wandering too far... into the Bloodwood. Ulalume had ventured there many times herself, and knew perfectly well the dangers which lay within. She ran for the gate leading to its crimson environs, calling over her shoulder to the child to get home, she would see to the safety of his friends. She saw the gates parting as she approached, and alerted the guards posted there as she passed. There was not one moment to waste, she knew, if there was to be anything but a tragic ending to this story. Her sword and shield came out in a single fluid motion as she penetrated the forbidding canopy - not this story, she promised herself.
Almost as soon as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, they came upon her - the ettins. Ugly two-headed giants straight from a nightmare, weilding two weapons with surprising quickness. Luckily, she knew how to battle them - she had perhaps the best teacher one could have in battling giantkin, a mighty dwarf warrior named Telli Thunden.
"Remembers, Miss Ula, dem ettins is big an strong, but dey's all about aggression. Dat's how dey's win: dey comes at you whirlin' an' fussin', hopin' dat you'll go an pee yourself wit' fear. You'se just got ta turn the tables on em - stands up to em! When dey's comin' atcha, pops em' one in the knee, den swings up, like dis, and catch em's in the schnozzle. Dey don't likes bein' beat up on - dey ain'ts used to it. If'n you can pop em' quick and sets em' on der heels, deys goes down real easy."
How she missed Telli.
She sidetepped the initial stab of its spear, and blocked its gigantic club with her Unicorn Shield, feeling the shock all the way up her arm and into her shoulder. Light's glow, but they hit hard! Her sword bit into it once, twice, three times, and it fell in a heap of blood and stink. No time to celebrate, two more coming out of the mists at her, and just enough time for her to hear.. cries. Without hesitating, she bellowed and charged them, disrupting their rhythym as best she could. She whirled in between them, dodging stabs of their gigantic spears. Somehow her sword or shield met every incoming blow, and she once again emerged from the melee unscathed. Now the cries were clearly audible - as were the roars of the owlbears. She rounded a corner and saw them - three hin children, treed like foxes, and six hungry owlbears howling and roaring, swiping at the low-lying branches, leaning on the trunk, about to claim their prize at any minute.
She charged with a mighty bellow, knowing she had not one second to lose - if even one owlbear ignored her and continued its mission, all could be lost. She knew them to be extremely territorial, aggressive creatures, ones that would not take a challenge lightly. She saw six pairs of shiny, malevolent eyes turn on her, and knew she had been correct - now, to survive the battle.
Owlbears, while smaller than ettins, were much more dangerous in battle. Their beaks were razor-sharp and quick; their talons were powerful and difficult to parry. As she met the first one, Ulalume could sense the others spreading out around her in a circle and knew she must be careful - they would be striking at her from all sides and angles, and it would be easy for even a seasoned warrior like herself to get nipped and pecked to death in such a situation. She whirled and hacked, poked and parried, and felt herself drift up, up, above her body and the fray, observing from the treetops. Everything seemed to be moving much slower than normal, but with an air of unwavering finality. She could see tiny streams of blood streaking down her armor from small strikes, and although she could not feel it, she saw the fatigue in her technique - stances not quite wide enough, moves not quite followed through with the same vigor, and knew that the long day of travel and little food was catching up with her. One, two owlbears fell, and still four bore down on her with a renewed ferocity. She looked over and saw the children huddled in the tree, completely overcome by terror, not daring to hope that this rescue might succeed, that the death they had felt come so close might be driven away like a bad dream.
If she failed, they were lost. If she fell, they would fall. There was but one answer.
She must not fall.
Her mind's eye returned to her body with a velocity that almost snapped her head back. She could feel the hot breath of the owlbears through her visor's opening and knew they were sensing victory - perhaps even cunning predators like these could get overconfident. She gave a slow, half-hearted swing, one that would signal the brink of exhaustion to a wary hunter, and waited for the wind-up to a killing blow. When she saw the massive bulk of the beast lurch backwards to build momentum, she thrust her sword quickly forward, feeling it bite deep into flesh before turning the blade and pulling it free, into the body of another standing next to the first. Before they even knew their quarry was still very much alive, both fell with grevious wounds spouting fountains of blood.
She turned on the remaining two, sword and shield working in tandem to block their blows. Her mind was refocused, her technique flawless, and with three more blows the last of them lay dead at her feet. Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Ulalume did not sink to her knees. Rather she sheathed her sword, slung her shield back across her back, and raised her visor, peering up into the boughs where the hin huddled.
A great shout arose from the village as she emerged from the wood with the children in her arms, covered in sweat and blood and sap, but alive. Their families rushed forward to claim them, words of thanks bubbling out of them like water from a spring. Ulalume merely smiled and nodded, her vision swimming slightly. They started to lead her to Swiftfoot Hall for a celebration, how wonderful that would be.. food and drink and happiness, celebration - but she knew it was not for her, not at the moment. She fought against the tide of hin that tried to pull her towards the glen like a piece of driftwood, and hastily explained that she was expected elsewhere, but to please accept her apologies... being hin, they did not understand. Who was she? Why had she done what she had, if not for some reward? Some fame? Recognition?
She thought a moment, the crowd of hin grown suddenly quiet before her, expecting her answer. She left them with the only thing she could, and then trudged off down the road again toward her long-awaited soak and what she had come to think of as home these days:
"I am Ulalume A'Midori. I travel to dark places and do battle with evil for the sake of those who cannot. I protect the weak and the helpless. I stand without fear against those who would do harm to others. I am of the Coruscanti, and we stand ready whenever or wherever we are needed. Your well-being is my reward, my fame, and my recognition." |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 14 Jul 2006 01:54 PM |
Ulalume tossed the broken body of the wolf aside, regretting to have to slay such a beautiful creature... when would they learn not to attack her? The wind of Whipsnade Pass flurried her cloak around her and brought a chill to her cheeks - she loved the Icy Lands, and found its chilly climate invigorating. Nothing made you appreciate a warm hearth more than being chilled to the bone.
She had many wonderful memories of Icy Vale - gatherings at the Inn, expeditions set off from here that yielded treasure and challenge, triumphant homecomings through the gate from Coldheart Canyon and a celebratory toast later on next to a roaring fire. However this trip was not a happy occasion - she had taken to making regular trips to the Hot Springs to care for Rosen Vimes, who had been cut down and left for dead in the snow for a week. While her body had been brought back from the brink of death, her mind was still elsewhere, and Ulalume knew that such a patient was extremely difficult to care for, both emotionally and logistically. So she would sit with her, change her sheets and her bandages, change her underclothes, feed her, read to her - just to let her know there was someone there for whom she should return. Cedrych would not accompany her, but she understood why, and thought no less of him for it.
Trudging through the snow, she thought about her little family, how much they had both come to mean to her, and what they had to accomplish in the world... it was so big, and they were so few. She knew that to survive, they had to recruit more paladins to their banner... but not just anyone. Only the very best would do. She smiled - whoever they were, they would have to live up to the example set by Cedrych and Rosen, of martial prowess sheathed in wisdom and compassion, loyal and true, without a spot of fear in their being. Such people were rare, and she felt privileged to have two of them close to her heart.
The Hot Springs came into view, and Ulalume's heart began to sink into her chest. She stopped a moment, and leaned on a tree, her face beginning to contort into a sob - she knew she must not enter that cabin with any trace of negativity on her, no matter how hard it was to see Rosen like that. She knew how difficult the journey must be for her, and only wanted to present a light for her to find her way home, with no shadow cast across it. By sheer force of will, she got control of her facial muscles, smoothed over her features, and resumed her march. Rosen would be fed, would be changed, and would hear the words of the Venerable Georgi of Asashi, whose writings on self-denial had inspired Ulalume's regimen of late.
She entered the cabin, and found it strangely quiet. Shaldriel was nowhere to be seen, and most of the beds seemed empty, which was unusual. Normally one had to pray there would be a bed waiting for you if you came to this place, as the Divider Chain was dangerous, and the beings who inhabited it were ten times as dangerous. Ulalume made her way to Rosen's corner and pulled open the netting surrounding the bed, prepared to see the once beautiful and vibrant young paladin inert, a mass of bruises and healing fractures.
The bed was empty.
Ulalume ran outside, knowing that Shaldriel disposed of the dead quickly - she had to, since disease and curse could set in quickly, and she couldn't risk infecting her living patients. There was a lime-lined pit behind the cabin, capped with a large stone. The dead were stored inside the pit until the supply wagon came, then they were loaded onto the cart and transported to Icy Vale for burial. Normally a team of three or four men would roll the stone away, but Ulalume did not have time to wait for others. She prayed to the light to hear her, to strengthen her limbs, and felt the warm sensation of her prayer being answered. She placed her hands upon the boulder and heaved with all of her might - at first, it refused to move. Then, she could hear the frost anchoring it to the ground start to crack, then the stone began to shift and the smell from below hit her nostrils. Had her stomach not been strengthened by a year of fighting the living dead, trolls, slimes and oozes, and other disgusting foes, she would have collapsed into a vomiting mass. With one final grunt of effort the stone was moved and rolled a short distance, like a child's marble that had missed the mark. Her hands on her hips, her lungs pounding with her exertion, Ulalume peered down into the maw of the dead.
Inside were approximately ten bodies wrapped head to toe in white sheets and bound with leather straps, stacked like cordwood. Her eyes settled on the topmost one, which unlike the others still gleamed white and unsullied. She lowered herself into the pit, knowing what she must do. The Coruscanti, unlike the folk of Icy Vale, practiced cremation, and Ulalume simply could not risk the chance of Rosen's body being animated to fight against her. Her hands began unwrapping the cords, and she prepared herself for a final goodbye to the woman who had become like a sister to her, who had shared her initiation and her struggles to regain her standing as a true paladin, someone she had watched grow from a young errant into a strong champion of good and righteousness, someone she swore she would avenge as soon as the funerary rites were complete.
But when she opened the sheet, the delicate features of a dead elvish woman were all that she found. Ulalume froze, her heart pounding , as she realized that someone was standing on the ground behind her head.
"Greetings, Ulalume," said Shaldriel. Ulalume turned round, and immediately shielded her eyes. Shaldriel was standing exactly in front of the rising sun, and its rays streamed past her like a cloak on the wind. Her features were hidden by the glory and brightness of this shroud, and as she spoke, Ulalume thought she heard the faint tinkling of bells.
"Why do you look for the living amongst the dead?" |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 31 Jul 2006 06:57 AM |
Ulalume stared at the chessboard, her brow scrunched in concentration. She knew that Lucius was a powerful mage and had an agile mind, but his talent for chess was somewhat unexpected.
She had found him in the Mask, holding a roundtable discussion with Jessup, Salt and Wilom the bard about - irony of ironies - the moral and legal ramifications of contracts. She spotted Talion across the room, speaking with Sywyn, and walked over. She felt a certain lightness whenever she was around Talion these days - he seemed to express opinions very much in line with her own, but commanded a different kind of respect. She felt stronger in his presence, and always strove to do her best in combat when he was near, so as not to disappoint him.
They had sat, joined by Fennigan, and endured some thinly-veiled barbs sent their way by Lucius. While she did her best not to show it publicly, she was deeply bothered by Lucius' sudden change of heart - didn't he used to respect her for her unswerving moral compass? Now he seemed to think her some sort of monster, as if she'd accepted Vidus Khain's ultimatum and joined the Righteous Swords.
Then, out of nowhere, he had challenged her to a game of chess.
Chess was invented in Midor, an abstraction of the Patrician Wars. It had been used for hundreds of years to train would-be paladins at the Academy in the art of strategy, and Ulalume had been an enthusiastic student.
Things had begun well - so well, in fact, that Ulalume completely underestimated Lucius' ability. He allowed her to take control of the board with her pawns, showing no regard whatsoever to his position or the mobility of his pieces. She set up a classic Archon defense with her knight and bishop guarding her castled king, and set to attack.
She was frustrated to discover that Lucius played chess exactly like he argued: he gave the appearance of impulsiveness and incompetence, but when you tried to attack he slipped away like a greased eel. He seemed to make exactly the right move at the very last minute to thwart whatever she was doing, and she saw her position slowly erode.
Ulalume, on the other hand, played chess like she made her way in the world: she stuck to a few well-proven principles, made the best choices she could as the situation demanded, and had faith that she would prevail. The truly gifted could, she knew, see ten or even twenty moves ahead. She had never been able to beat Master D'Arneau, her instructor, because he had this gift. She knew that she would never be a brilliant chess player, but she was a very competent one. Now, as Lucius launched a blistering attack with his bishop and queen, she got an idea. She set up a stopgap defense - nothing too impenetrable, but something to give her a little breathing room. She was surprised when Lucius started trading pieces with her, but she kept her head, sticking to her core principles: control the board; stay mobile; protect your pieces; force the enemy to make tough decisions. As she looked at the pieces and their potential paths, she noticed that her reverence to position had left her the left side of the board, with about half of Lucius' pieces on the right side, stuck in nooks that were tough to manouver out of.
Suddently she thought of something from one of her earliest tournaments... most players were psychologically unprepared to use their king in an attack, wanting instead to keep him protected. This meant that most players undervalued the king as an offensive piece, and were thus vulnerable to an attack using it.
The board stretched out before her - she was behind two points, but had superior position. They each had a rook and a knight, but Lucius' knight was pinned to the far side of the board, and Ulalume saw her opening. She advanced with her knight, forcing his king back, and supported it with her pawn. Next - here came the crucial move - she moved her king up, shielded by the pawn and supporting the knight. She held her breath - now it all depended on whether or not Lucius sensed how much trouble he was in. His rook was in a much better position than hers, and he could halt her attack with a single move.
He didn't see it. She continued her attack, forcing his king up the side of the board with her knight, pawn and king, until she saw the coup de gras - she placed him in check with her knight, forking his rook. Now, he must lose the rook, and her pawn was one square away from becoming a queen.
He looked up at her. "Well, this is going to get ugly now."
She grinned at him. "That depends on your perspective, I suppose."
He walked over the the Chessmaster and conceded. As silly as it seemed, she felt better. She had bested him at something that he actually valued, and had earned the slightest bit of respect.
"That was a great game," he said as they made their way out of the building.
She nodded to him as he opened to door to the Port Royale Plaza, holding it open for her to pass through first. "Aye, you are quite good. You play chess like you debate: you are tough to attack directly and always seem to find a way out." He looked at her with an expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement.
"And," she added, her eyes twinkling, "you undervalue position."
((Thanks RB for a truly epic game of chess, and The Shadow for providing spectators.)) |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 31 Jul 2006 02:20 PM |
| ((It was immensely enjoyed by RB. Thanks back at ya.)) |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 22 Aug 2006 05:18 PM |
Ulalume fumed.
She walked along the Northern Highway, replaying the previous hour's events in her head. She simply could not rationally explain her feelings, but she knew that followers of Naruth were cunning and scheming and malicious. She knew that no favor from them came without price, which was why she had refused the suit of armor from Juylina all that time ago. She knew that anything Alyssa Eliot sought to gift her with meant that she was falling fool to her deception, and she simply could not abide that.
And so they had had it out in the Four Winds with Talion, Alton, and others watching along with expressions ranging from disinterest to uncomfortable annoyance. Despite all of Alyssa's insistence that she was misunderstood, that Ulalume was being unfair, that she was indeed good of heart... Ulalume knew in her heart that it was all a lie, and she refused to give in, even though she knew it made her look a monster to the world. Sometimes one had to stand up to evil and call it by name. Sometimes one had to make a stand.
However, as she walked alone in the rain towards Port Royale, doubt began to creep into her mind. Had she been overly harsh? Could a follower of Naruth really care for the welfare of others? Was she in the wrong?
These thoughts plagued her for some time. The only real relief she got was in playing chess, its elegant lines of attack and defensive formations pushing all else from her mind. Some days later she was observing a game at the chess hall between Sywyn, a player whose skill and vision for the game surprised her, and Lucius, her favorite opponent. She watched as Sywyn wove a net around the board, watched as Lucius countered after taking time to consider every possibility on his turn. She smiled - playing chess with Lucius was not a casual activity - it could seem to last a lifetime. One had to bring supplies. It was like an expedition to the Divider Chain, although not quite as cold and without the giants hurling boulders at you.
She watched as Sywyn threatened with his queen, and Lucius tried to set up a counterattack. Somehow, he had made a terrble miscalculation, and Sywyn took his rook with no chance of reprisal from Lucius. She could see Lucius swear softly to himself as he took stock of the damage.
The back row consisted of Sywyn's queen in the corner, next to that Lucius' knight, two squares later Lucius' king, and in the other corner, Lucius' rook. Lucius had to move his king or else next turn Sywyn would take the knight, placing the king in check and skewering the rook. Lucius studied the board for a time, and then moved his king forward and right, out of harm's way. It was not what Ulalume would have done - she preferred to respond to a provoked attack in the most aggressive way possible. It was the ettin's strategy, and it was quite effective - your typical opponent would second-guess their own strategy, assuming that one would fall into a defensive posture. Not many really considered the possibility of counter-attack. Lucius' move, however, was reasonable - it opened up his rook to protect the knight and kept the king from being trapped behind a wall of pawns.
As the game progressed, it became obvious that this small move would color every move that came after it. Not only was the rook kept in the back rank, the knight was pinned and the queen still threatened the center diagonal of the board. It hamstrung Lucius, and ultimately led to his defeat.
Ulalume mused as the two men shook hands after their match. This was the difference between her and Lucius: he preferred to avoid conflict if at all possible. He tried to be everyone's friend, to make everyone happy, because he found the company of others soothing to the pain that lived inside him. He needed their approval. Ulaume had the confidence of a true believer, and the approval of others was much lower on her list of priorities. She stood up to evil wherever she saw it, however dangerous it might appear at the time. In the end, she thought it would make a difference.
She sighed happily and strolled outside into the cool night air, fingering a pawn from the intricately carved set of pieces Talion had given her to hold on to. What a wonderful teacher the game of chess could be... |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 06 Oct 2006 01:20 PM |
Knowing Elven certainly had its advantages.
For the first time in her many visits, the merchants along the back street of the High Quarter were freely offering her their wares. Ulalume wasn't sure if that was because they knew of her perceived shift in religious affiliation, the obviously elvish tabard she now wore, or the language skills that had been miraculously given to her directly by the Mother as sort of a consolation gift. "Sorry for uprooting you again, for rattling your frail human mind with the scope and grandeur of my divine plan; here, enjoy speaking and understanding Elvish on me, we'll call it even." Whatever it was that changed their behavior towards her, she welcomed it. Ferein was such a beautiful place, but every time she had come here she felt like a visitor in an art museum - yes, it was all beautiful, but she knew to what side of the velvet rope she was expected to stay. She had been contented with her status; she felt it helped to teach humility.
But now... it was all beginning to feel more and more like home. She still missed the Villa and wished that she hadn't had to leave, but it just didn't feel right anymore. Now that she knew to whom she was praying, what lay behind the curtain - she just couldn't pretend that it really mattered who ruled in Midor anymore. Now, there were bigger things to worry about: the health of the whole world, the integrity of the Cycle, the protection of a new people, and perhaps... the passing on of what remained in her from the Academy. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she was never going to bear children of her own, but perhaps this would be the next best thing. She knew the elves had no tradition of paladins - no one did, really, save the Aristi and the Midorans - and this, she felt, might finally be her true calling: passing along the tradition of the Midoran Academy, making sure that everything was not lost in the rain of fire and holy power that Midoran murdered her fellows with that terrible day. Perhaps she could save something, preserve it for the future, so that it might not perish from the face of Vives. Perhaps she could bring a light to the future in a way few others had the opportunity to.
It was a big job. It would be wonderful to have her companions help her with it, but she was prepared to do it alone. Something had snapped inside Rosen, she could tell. Part of what enabled a paladin to be a paladin was an aura of surety and invincibility, a bubble of confidence that doubt and fear rolled off like Northern Highway rain off a bumbershoot. On that terrible day following their descent to Nethar'u, as they debriefed in the Tel'Elena tower, Ulalume could tell that Rosen was bereft of that protective shell. For the first time since she had first met her in the Queen's palace in Port Royale so many months ago, she looked vulnerable. Ulalume had seen her beaten within a spider's thread of her life, had changed her bedpans and spoon-fed her mashed food, and still she had never seen her look so completely helpless. It saddened her, but she knew that there was nothing she could do. A paladin's connection to the divine was a deeply personal thing; either one felt the Call and answered it, or one did not. Rosen now either no longer heard the Call, or refused to answer it. Either way, there was little Ulalume could do but pray for her and provide whatever comfort and guidance she would allow. Knowing Rosen, it wouldn't be a whole lot.
And Cedrych... he had been spoken to directly by the Mother at the Tears, and had seemed less than moved. When she had heard the Mother's voice she had fallen to her knees and wept with joy; Cedrych received the news like a waiter at Cafe Del Mar taking an order. She knew that he was much more cerebral than either she or Rosen. She had always thought of them as being a perfect team, because they each represented different aspects of paladinhood: Rosen was the heart - quick to anger, easily wounded, passionate... Cedrych was the head - calculating, intellectual, moving only after carefully considering all options, needing to fully understand something before commiting.... and Ulalume was the soul - naive, pure, idealistic. Of course, their different approaches led to conflict, but she honestly felt they were much like a bundle of arrows: easily broken individually, but strong when bundled together. Losing Rosen had broken her heart; losing Cedrych would be nearly fatal to the whole operation.
However, she was resolved: she would do it alone, if she must. The future was too important. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 16 Oct 2006 06:12 PM |
Ulalume regarded the elf sitting across the table from her.
His name was Kedariel, and he was a young Arosian warrior, full of vim and vigor, yearning for an opportunity for glory. She could practically smell the testosterone rising from his body like mist off a pond. He had requested she meet with him here in Ecw Nyaena, she was sure to petition her for acceptance into an order that she wasn't even sure officially existed yet.
But word had traveled fast: a new order was forming, led by Elvalia herself and consisting of former Midoran paladins who had been shown the way of the Cycle and were sharing their knowledge and know-how. Ulalume, once viewed with suspicion and fear as she strode through Ferein in her Midoran tabard, now ellicited smiles and points wherever she went, her height and human features instantly recognizable amidst the sea of elvish faces. NOw she wore the blue of her new order and it was as if she were reborn yet again - she had to admit, it sure beat the reception she typically received as she walked about Port.
Kedariel was the first to actually approach her and inquire about joining, but she was sure he would not be the last. She swirled her wine about in her fluted glass and regarded him, trying to ascertain whether the spark existed within him. "Spark" was a notoriously subjective quality that recruiters for the Midoran Academy had used to describe those within whom there existed true promise to be a paladin. Without it, a youth might aspire to the MDF or the clergy, but they would never join the Order. Ulalume had known before her interview that she would be accepted - she heard the call when she was ten years old, and had never once regretted it. Being a paladin was the most important thing in her life, and she expected to see such dedication in an applicant before she would accept them into her order.
"Tell me again," she began, "Why you think you are an appropriate choice for the Order."
He breathed in deliberately, perhaps sensing the importance of his upcoming reply. He brushed aside his hair and started to speak the most musical languages that Ulalume would have heard as gibberish only two short weeks ago. "I have always known that I would serve Ferein well... from an early age I was skilled in archery, the sword, hunting, tracking... last winter I tracked a raiding troll all the way though Gladden hills alone and brought its steaming head back as proof--"
"Enough," said Ulalume suddenly, rising from her chair. The harsh sound of wood on wood sounded like the attack cry of a hunting dragon, and made the young elf's spirit sink.
She leaned on the table, resting her fists on the wood. "You speak of valor, of prowess and of confidence. These are important, make no mistake. You shall be called upon to fight evil, and evil wears thick armor. I have not come to teach the elves valor - I am sure there are many here who could school me on the subject." She leaned back, continuing to monitor the elf's response to her words. "Being a paladin is more than being a warrior," she began again, softening her tone slightly but losing none of her former intensity. "Being a paladin is feeling the touch of the Mother here," she touched a finger to her chest, "every single day of your life. It is knowing right from wrong, and knowing you must always do the right. It is never having the luxury of making an honest mistake. It is being judged by a higher standard than anyone else, and often unfairly. Our standard is perfection; we get no credit for almost being good enough." She paused slightly, trying to keep the huskiness of emotion from her voice as she continued. "It is feeling the scorn of those you love, because they can never truly understand. It is resigning yourself to a life apart, save for those few others who have heard the same Call. Do you understand?"
He looked at her with piercing green eyes that resembled a cat's in shape and reflectivity. Without a word, he pushed his chair from the table and walked away. Ulalume shook her head. This was going to be a tougher job than she had thought. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 24 Oct 2006 01:17 PM |
Ulaume sighed.
It had been a long, tedious process. She had met with more elves than she could remember, bowed low, introduced herself and nodded politely when they commented on her perfect, unaccented Elven. Funny what the touch of a god could do for one's linguistic capabilities.
But despite her efforts and endless meetings with layers of bureacracy, she felt no closer to establishing a headquarters for her fledgeling Order than she had been the first day she and Rosen had wandered, wide-eyed and trembling, into the Sacred Grove and announced themselves to the Great Druid. Some days it seemed a lifetime ago, and some days it seemed like yesterday.
She leaned back, allowing the warmth of the fire to seep into her like rainwater filling an underground aquifer. She sat at the very edge of the elf-controlled lands, among the Rangers of the Latonei where, scant months ago, the infamous massacre had occurred that led to Dana's execution at the hands of the Ferein COuncil. As much as she had disliked Dana in life, she felt only compassion for her in death. The stories she had heard! Not only was Dana's body mutilated by her chief, the one who had officially sanctioned the acts that led to her death, but to have one's remains carted about in pieces, stolen and re-stolen like some historical bauble of significance... Ulalume could think of no greater ignomy. She prayed, not for the first time, that wherever Dana found herself now she found herself at peace.
Ulalume found the company of the Latonei Rangers soothing. Unlike most, they found no utility in meaningless chatter. Their compound was devoid of the usual nervous buzz of a military outpost. Rather, they seemed extremely... focused. Ready for action in the manner of trained, blooded veterans. Ulalume respected that. So, while Rosen rented a room at the Falling Stars, Ulalume slept beneath the stars, a hundred paces from trolls thirsty for her blood, watched over by the finest woodsmen in all of Vives. She had never slept so soundly.
It all made sense, somehow. That was all she could say to those who questioned her seemingly-sudden shift in allegiance. She knew it wasn't really a shift, that she had been offering prayer to Elbereth since that first day at Sable Lake when she had held her candle aloft with all the others. Maybe before... maybe the Midoran Paladins had somehow received their blessings from her, even when they swore she was nothing more than Elvish ancestor worship. She doubted she would ever truly know the answer to that riddle... but the journey she had gone through, the -process- itself seemed right, somehow. What was at the heart of Elbereth's worship? The Cycle. An ending and a beginning to everything. She felt that her beliefs had gone through their own Cycle, from blinding light to Coruscanti light to... everything. Light and shadow, life and death, war and peace, struggle and enlightenment. She had believed and had been betrayed, had been lifted up and shown something that few others guessed at... she felt truly chosen and charged with a specific task for the first time in her career. She had heard the Voice, and she would answer. No matter how many assistant ministers she must wade through, she would see this Order, her Order, survive.
She smiled to herself. It was wonderful to finally feel like she was having an impact. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 26 Dec 2006 04:25 PM |
Ulalume sniffed the air.
It was dusk on the Aquinas Coast, and something was not right. Apart from the usual smell of salt and rotting seaweed, there was a deeper, darker scent of decay. There were also no gulls to be seen: the silence was almost deafening.
She had traveled here because word had reached her in Ferein that something was amiss along this regularly-traveled route between Buckshire and Port Royale. Folks were going missing, cattle were dying.. Ulalume knew all too well what lay just off that route, and decided to investigate the situation personally, even if only to lay her suspicions to rest. Brigands and even shapeshifters the local militia could deal with, she reasoned. The minions of Gukathul were another matter altogether.
Now, as she rounded the bend, her worst fears were confirmed: the sea captain lay in a pool of blood and entrails in the middle of the path, and a red-eyed avatar of death and decay hunched over him, devouring his flesh. Ulalume ran forward and skewered the thing on her blade before it knew she was there. She kicked the body from her sword and looked up at the entrance to the Nebwood, which was cloaked in an unnatural darkness, and knew it was time to go to work.
She donned her helm and cast all the protective magics she could muster, intent on traveling to the very heart of the temple and defeating the lich priest herself, if necessary. It had been a long time since she, Balthor and Rosen had ventured down, and she felt confident she could address the situation by herself. The entrance to the wood yielded two dead rangers and two undead minions feeding, which she quickly dispatched and raced to the temple.
Standing before the entrance were two mighty undead. She charged immediately, knowing it was ultimately safer to engage them quickly than to hesitate and allow them a moment to react ot her presence. She could tell these were powerful even before one landed a blow that felt as if it reached into her very soul: as she approached they assumed a defensive stance and worked her into a flanking position, something the more mundane, mindless examples of undead would never do. Now, as she was locked in combat with these two fiends, she knew she was truly in danger, and fought with every ounce of skill and determination she could muster.
Afterward she panted, applying a bandage to a nasty scrape across her neck and chest. If not for one of Lucius' healing draughts, she would have fallen... but it hurt to think about Lucius, even more than the wounds from these infernal beasts. She looked once more upon the gates of the temple, and knew that if these lay outside, she would be no match alone for what lay within. Luckily, she knew just the right people to call for help.
On her way out of the wood she collected the bodies of both rangers and the captain, after saying a few words of prayer over them. She headed into Port, hoping the priestess at the temple might be able to do something for them.
Rita's door was shattered in a million splinters.
Ulalume felt her heart rise in her throat. Rita had become something of a friend since Ulalume had delivered the unfortunate news about her husband over a year ago. He had foolishly ventured into the cave atop the cliffs in search of treasure, and paid with his life. Rita had been devastated, and Ulalume made sure to check in on her from time to time, accepting her offered mugs of tea and listening to stories of how she and Bob had met, what she had worn the first time they had danced together... she hadn't seen her since she had left Port Royale for Ferein, but had thought of her often.
Inside her home she found Rita and her murderer, which she quickly dispatched. Although Ulalume had seen many grievious wounds and many bloody battles, as she stood over the slain corpse of Rita something welled up within her, and she vomited in the corner. Everything was wrong - Lucius, Rita, bands of roving undead... sdhe knew she could have saved all of them, had she been here. Why would the Mother send her to Ferein and endless mazes of red tape, when she was needed here? Why would Jessup be knighted as a benefactor and the paladin order she so loved be scattered to the winds? She sat down at Rita's table and wept.
An hour later she was dragging her shield through the lower market of Port Royale, upon which lay the bodies of the two Northern Rangers, the ship's captain and Rita. They were covered with a comforted Ulalume had found in Rita's bedroom. The temple was deserted, as usual, except for the lone Sister who kept vigil.
"Please," Ulalume intoned as she removed her helm, "these people... they were overcome by minions of Gukathul. Is there anything that can be done for them?" |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 30 Dec 2006 08:13 PM |
Seaspray doused the deck, but Ulalume remained dry. One of her favorite attribute of these elvish weeds were their seemingly-supernatural ability to repel water from their surface. The Aquinas Coast loomed on the horizon, and she mentally prepared herself for the long ordeal ahead of her.
After leaving the unfortunates in the temple, she had journeyed the land far and wide, looking for the one person who might have an accurate insight to the events in the Nebwood, a woman who had once beaten her within an inch of her life for daring to destroy one of her undead playthings, a woman who had once led an undead army against the gates of her home, whose very name was synonymous with evil and treachery in Midor: Fri'el.
As usual, Fri'el preferred to find her and make an entrance. As Ulalume spoke with Juylina on the Great Plains she appeared out of nowhere, smiling as sweetly as a grandmother greeting a brood of hungry children with a hot pie. Ulalume smiled back - after a rocky start, she felt she had a good rapport with Fri'el. She genuinely liked her, despite the fact that she was most likely completely insane and probably only refrained from acts of extreme malevolence because of the inconvenience of having to kill those who came afterwards to arrest her. Looking into her eyes was like standing on the edge of a vast emptiness and peering in - beautiful, in its way, but also terrifying. Ulalume knew some of the details of her life and felt an immense sympathy for her - she knew that she was, at one time, capable of acts of extreme nobility and selflessness, and she knew that a spark of decency must exist somewhere within her still. She hoped that, if the time ever came when they were at odds, she would be able to address that spark and prevent violence. While she would not like having to harm Fri'el or, more likely, be harmed by her, she knew that if Fri'el ever threatened innocents she would have no choice.
For now, Fri'el was willing to give her the information she needed - no, she wasn't responsible, but she surmised it was some faction jockeying for position to rule Gukathul's realm. As Ulalume had suspected, Fri'el believed the current disturbance was in reaction to the repeated provocation of adventurers sacking the temple every other day. If that were true, rushing in and laying waste to all within seemed like it might only exacerbate the situation. However, she knew that she could not simply stand by and hope everything cleared up.
She knew what she had to do. As long as there was danger there, she must protect the unwary and the helpless. It was her duty to stand up to the dark forces that stood in opposition to the Cycle, and she would not ignore it. She stepped off the gangplank and headed up the coast toward the gates of Port Royale, strapping on her helm and flexing her hands within her gauntlets. She drew her sword and shield as she rounded the bend, spotting the glowing eyes of the abominations from the temple. No new bodies, thank the Mother, but still danger loomed. She felled the two walking corpses with two neat, compact swings and headed to the edge of the unnatural darkness that poured from the entrance to the wood like ink from an overturned blotter.
She could hear nothing within, for now. She back up slightly, positioning herself in front of a tree. She leaned back against it, trying to conserve her energy. She knew she had a long night ahead of her. As long as these things kept appearing, she would remain, making sure no one else met the grisly fate of the unfortunate victims lying in the temple. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 11 Jan 2007 02:28 PM |
Ulalume slumped against a tree, fighting to keep her eyes open.
It had been almost two weeks since she began her vigil outside the Nebwood, and she had heard from neither Cedrych nor Ferein. Except for one brief rest she had been sustaining herself on potions and herbs. While neccessity demanded it for now, she knew she could do serious damage to her body over the long term by continuing too long without proper rest or food.
And yet the horrors continued to stagger out of the darkness, only to be cut down by her blade. Usually a predictable squad would emerge, but occasionally there belched forth a clump of skeletons, a few of the mightier ghouls, even zombie lords... she had so far managed to defeat them all, but her strength was waning. None of their materials were being reused, and the temple had to run out of bodies eventually, right?
She started, realizing she had dozed off on her feet again. However long it took, she would not abandon her post. Although there were other things raging in the world, this was evil. This was something she could stand up and fight. This, she knew in her heart, was where she was needed most.
She only prayed that she was worthy of the task. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 19 Jan 2007 02:32 PM |
Ulalume gazed at the horizon, weariness drenching her bones like twigs left in a squall. She was returning home now, the third home she had known in as many years. While she felt a bit uneasy leaving her task to others, she knew Cedrych was right - there were many who could guard that area, but none but her who had the unique position she held in Ferein. So, she returned to the site of endless politicking, where the long lifespans of its citizens had slowed everything to a crawl within its borders. If there was only a way to crack the shell...
Something caught her eye - smoke. Definitely smoke on the horizon, up past the peaks of the Divider Chain. She knew what lay there, and prayed she was mistaken.
"Captain," she intoned. "Please - we must change course. Put in at Ladriel; I believe there is something I must attend to." A shoult to the crew was the only acknowledgement she received. She deeply respected the Captain - a man of few words but decisive action, he was never late and kept his crew working at all times. She wished she had the time to learn from him.
She reached Kusin's wagon in two steps, knowing every second mattered if she was correct. "Here," she said as she presented Kusin with 100 gold pieces. "I'll double it if you can get me there quickly." Kusin being a dwarf of rare avarice, they took off without further discussion.
Ulalume placed her helmet upon her head and started mentally preparing for the sights of carnage she knew would greet her in the aftermath of yet another Atalan attack. She prayed under her breath in the Elvish tongue that had been bestowed upon her by the Mother in grateful appreciation for her gift.
"Mother of ---" hissed Kusin as he reigned in his oxen. "Sorry, lass - you'll have to walk from here." Ulalume jogged herself out of her reverie and looked about.
Dust covered the plains. The soft complaint of horses in close quarters and the clinking of armor told her what was happened before she actually saw anything. "Wait here," she whispered, and threw her cloak about herself, silently intoning the Mother's protection. She must find out where this force was headed.
She climbed the final crest before the Midoran farmlands and sucked in her breath: on the Plain below marshalled the mighty army of Midor, banners curling in the breeze, armor gleaming bright red like an angry nest of ants swarming on a summer afternoon. She made sure to give the Mystics a wide berth, as they were most likely watching for hidden observers, and tried to make her way to a unit of footsoldiers mustering near Gorlath Keep.
"I hear they can shoot a mile and hit a man dead in the eye," grunted a soldier as she approached. "They never sleep and they drinks the blood of their fallen."
Another soldier grunted. "I wouldn't be taken alive by them. I hear they beheaded a poor Icy Vale woman some months back an' hacked up her body good. Sent her back to her husband in two brandy casks."
Ulalume's blood ran cold. This could only mean one thing. War between her father's people and her adopted home. She looked about the field and saw the peaked caps of the Catseye Clan, a notorious anti-elf organization famous for its persectution of those of suspected elven heritage. Only one reason for them to be out in force. She turned and ran before she was seen.
Kusin had wisely fled by the time she arrived back at the crimson foliage next to the site where Jerec had knelt in vigil all those months ago, so Ulalume kept running, all sense of weariness gone. She ran all the way through the Mirghul foothills to the Ranger station, down the elevator, and rowed the boat to Ladriel like there was a dragon chasing her. She must get word to the Council as quickly as possible - if it was to be war, she knew none in Ferein would be more valuable than she in its defense. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 01 Oct 2009 02:13 PM |
The snow flurried about the woman's head as she walked the desolate avenues of Icy Vale, her well-worn boots crunching through the week-old crust of refrozen ice that covered the thin layer of snow on the ground. It was a figure familiar to the residents of Icy Vale: a female warrior in blue raiments that were foreign to these parts. None of them had ever set foot in Ferein, or they might have recognized the style of arms of the royal guard. The blue, beetle-like helm looked almost inhuman, the arcane emroidery on her blue cloak shimmered with power and her garments never seemed to carry stain or water, no matter how severe the weather she was walking in. When she unsheathed her sword it shone with a supernatural light that threw sharp shadows across her silhouette as she whirled it expertly about her body. Those who had heard her voice thought she must be inhuman: a hollow, raspy growl with the slightest lisp, as if the mouth were deformed in some way. The voice sometimes muttered in Elvish, sometimes a language that only the eldest among them could recognize as Old Midoran, sometimes in the common tongue of men. None could ever recall seeing her face, and the rumor quickly spread that she had none.
And yet her reputation was anything but inhuman. She was known to heal the injured with a touch. She delivered letters and supplies through blizzards. She made regular trips through Bloodheart Canyon, helping to keep the wild orc tribes in check. She rescued the lost from the mountain passes, carrying their limp bodies to the cabin by the hot spring that served as an infirmiry. She had even attempted several times to negotiate between the humans of the Vale and the half orcs of M'Gok Tukar so the two peoples might understand one another better, although the fruits of her labor were slow in coming. The people of the Vale came to view a sighting the Blue Lady as a good omen.
She made her way through the swirling flurries toward the General Store, patting the head of one of Natalie Thorn's warhounds on her way in. Upon entering, she reached over her head to a pack precisely placed among four or five other packs across her back. She reached inside and brought forth another pack, which in turn yielded yet another smaller pack. From the sacks along the ground she scooped handful after handful of salt into this smaller pack. To the casual observer, it would seem she scooped more salt into this bag than there was room in the bag. After she judged eleven and a half pounds of salt, she brushed her gloves off in the open sack and retied her satchel, placing it back into its series of nested pouches. She stomped the snow off her boots before she entered the proprietor's area, wishing to avoid sullying his home with dirty slush. She left her customary gold for the purchase and headed back into the freezing night.
This was the routine of her life now: trips to the Cold Lands, polar bear hunting, the refining of pelts into armor and magic bags, then back to the Cold Lands to sell her wares. Back to Byron's mansion by Ladriel shore to sleep, possibly an occasional patrol here and there. Immense stretches of time that she never had to speak, and much thought. Behind that beetle helm there was much thought going on of cosmology, theology and legacy. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: The Lamb
Posted: 14 Oct 2009 11:53 AM |
Ulalume listened to the council of Ladriel Tower, as she had come to think of it, on their next move upon emerging from the crypts below Port Royale.
It had been a harrowing journey for her, running through the darkness, her companions ahead somewhere, the wailing hordes of undead constantly lapping at her heels as she carried the limp body of Salt Sower over her shoulder. Not only did she find herself with no shield in battle, she had the opposite of a shield, as she sought to keep her own armored torso between the wizard's body and the harm of incoming blows. Deep down, she knew this was folly. The wizard's soul had left his body already, of that she was certain; he could come to no more harm. And yet, somthing within her still desired to protect him. She had been in the Seven Sisters that awful night when Talion's companion had been brought in with terrible news on his lips: that Talion Deraith had fallen in the depths of the catacombs beneath Port Royale, never to return to the light of day. She knew that if Salt Sower were to vanish from the face of Vives, a tremendous power for the forces of good would have been extinguished. That one thought kept her shoulder high, her feet nimble, and her spirit determined in the face of a situation that would have terrified most mortal men.
She had broken through the trapdoor leading into the sewers like steam erupting from a kettle. Her companions had waited there for her, and she thanked the Mother for their faith in her. Salt and others were raised by Alton and their fellowship moved to the sancutary of Ladriel Tower to discuss their next move.
The Shademere. That word robbed Ulalume's lungs of air and sent a pit of despairing sick down deep in her stomach. She had been trained to ignore fear, and so the only reaction that was visible to any who watched her was the slightest incline of her head. Inside, however, the very core of her screamed out like a wounded animal, a fear so primal and intense as to be part of the very fabric that knit her soul to her bones. Hot, naked, liquid fear jetted its way through her heart to all her extremities, and she shivered.
The Shademere, where she had been dragged, kicking and screaming, by a troop of Atalan warriors. The Shademere, where her belongings had been stripped and carried away from her. The Shademere, where she had first felt the terror wash over her, the terror that was to be her close companion over the next series of months. She had faced down hordes of undead abominations without the slightest hesitation, had never felt the slightest stab of fear standing in the face of danger, but the Shademere was where she learned what fear felt like. That was where her real torment had begun, where her face was first violated by cold Atalan steel, where she first felt the seed of doubt that had crippled her for the better part of a year.
Now, she must return to that place.
The lesson she had learned in the past month served her well in this endeavor. Despite what years of training tried to tell her, she knew that she was not an island. She knew that no one being could stand in the way of the whole world. She knew now that what made her strong were the companions she surrounded herself with. This time she knew she would emerge from the ground victorious, because this time she did not go into the ground alone. This time, she stood with Ruby and Alton and Salt... and Talion. Especially Talion.
Of course, Valethrion accompanied them as well, after alerting the Atalan and their rivals in the quest to their intentions with his advance scouting of the past week. Ulalume regarded his faintly glowing outline in the gloom as they trudged down the stairs into the realm of the Atalan. What a self-centered, misguided fool he was.
Down they went, battling spiders the size of Jusin's wagon and the occasional Atalan scout. She knew they drew near the Shademere by the smell: a slippery smell, not the salty, windswept smell of the sea that she associated with freedom and opportunity, but a furtive, mucousy, stagnant smell, the smell of forgotten things. The Shademere.
Then, the full fury of the Atalan hit them. Dark arrows whizzed about them, and Ulalume felt the bite of several through the mithril links of her armor. Somehow, the Atalan archers knew exactly where to strike that would inflict the maximum amount of pain, and six blows at once drove Ulalume to her knees in agony. A flicker of despair enveloped her like an unseen jellyfish off the Asashi coast had once stung her legs while she swam during her time at Villa Candela, and she knew fear. Then, she felt Alton's hands on her wounds, felt them closed, and she knew everything would be all right. Her friends would be there, and she would be there for them. She incanted a quick prayer as she charged the first archer, taking its head off with one clean blow.
Later, as they emerged from that terrible place, Ulalume felt something completely alien to her: the rush of facing down fear, and emerging from the experience. It was an odd thing, feeling the blood in her veins, the breath in her lungs, hearing the jokes and guffaws of her friends and knowing that she was alive to fight another day. Not for the first time, she was glad for the helm she now wore every second of her time in public: she would have hated to have to explain to someone why she was crying. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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