| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Display using:
|
|
Born of chaos
Posted: 06 Mar 2007 04:36 PM |
*His eyes dimmed as he worked the forge, adding coal and pumping the bellows. Simple work, menial even but his body had always taken to it. It was his time to think as the body worked on its own. The hard part wasn't till later - so for now, his mind drifted...*
Haven, Gladden, Buckshire, and Undraeth. Targets or traps? Regardless the Heralds would see them sprung, one way or the other. One... two... three... *the words a whisper even inside his head* And Rosen ... no ... she is Emma now, just as likely to add fuel to any situation. Strong but untempered. Did anything I said to Rosen ever get through? It would leave a chance at least. The girl hasn't had to face herself yet, only others. one.... two.... three.... When she does, if she survives, she will be useful - trustworthy even. Until then? ...Isn't there someone else that can bring her along? I've offered my strength many times, and I'm so tired... one... two.... three.... Who else but you? There is no one else, it is for you now. And if we survive the war, time for an apprentice perhaps? Later, if you fail tonight then it wont matter anyway. One... two... three... *The heat coming off the forge was enough to cause burns if not for the wards he'd put in place.* Dorian, Tristian, Emma? ... Tristian, we still need to deal with the Ice Queen. Those three more then ever are needed, what service, what offering though can put aside a Goddess's wrath?
One... *he stops mid count his mind slipping back* no.. this is as far as I can take it. *He removes an old parchment from a lead case and reads it over twice, once silently to be sure of himself, and a second in casting. The elder fire elemental fills the already stifling workshop with such heat as to make breathing difficult. Finally, the alloy begins to glow and real work begins again, this time the rhythmic sounds of a hammer ring out like a crystal bell.* one-two.. One
Is it coincidence when they learned the location of the ore that they allied with the dwarves? The dwarves who Edmonds told of mithril.... where the Atalan now walk. No. Fault lies with me, ...and Edmonds... one-two.. One.. but he is gone and besides, if not for me the meeting wouldn't have taken place. The metals are not the reason though, secured for the war effort but not the cause of it. Neither is revenge.. the nodes maybe?one-two.. One.. It doesn't matter in truth. While we fortify and prepare to be attacked our enemy grows stronger and our resources dwindle. The fight must be brought home. Ladriel? If the gate goes both ways it would allow for surprise.
*The metal takes shape rapidly, each blow timed and tempered but still hours pass as it is folded over and over again to remove every last impurity. It's shape, fluid at first, becomes a graceful blade. Still white hot when attached to its guard and pommel. And finally comes the end. Talion's eyes dull before, glow as bright as the blade itself as the mixture is poured into the blade. The room turns from blistering heat to the cold of winter itself in moments, the elemental vanishes as suddenly. The oil hisses and pops as it runs across the length of the blade. The crystalline sounds of ringing returns but painfully now causing his eyes to tear. He works through all distractions even as his wards fail and his flesh is stung with blistering pain. The forces in his workshop pull the breath itself from his lungs the air itself grows thick. His mind races ahead as his thoughts begin to cloud, all that is left is his hope in the metal. In one clear moment he focuses all that is left of himself on his masterpiece. For a moment nothing happens, but in an instant the room clears with a heavy rush of fresh air rushing in to replace what was taken and the blade itself bursts into a chaotic rush of purple energy. The blade crackles as the forces continue running its length arcing randomly and without warning across its form. It's hours before this display is witnessed though, Talion lies on the floor passed out, barely breathing. Already his wounds are mending, the burns healing and blood drying out. What doesn't heal remains to be seen* |
|
|
  |
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 09 Mar 2007 07:34 PM |
*His father's study... no his study now, though still filled with ghosts of the past. And the lessons of his youth. All of it sitting directly over the vault, where his blade rests - a constant draw of his thoughts. To dangerous for it to be known, in time perhaps the need will out weight the risk. But that time is not now. The meeting with Markus went well and finally he knew (if only because he caused it) action was being taken to change the course of this war. The pen, heavy in his hand - his eyes staring at the still blank pages in front of him he fought the desire to race down the stairs, open the blood vault and find out the true potential of his creation. Instead - he writes. *
Fennigan,
There is a matter most urgent that requires someone both your skills and the trust you have proved in all the time I have known you. I can not detail the mission here, so I must ask that you find me as soon as you can. Also - avoid angering the both Ice Queen and her servants at least until you speak with me.
Tal.
*He reads over the letter twice, before taking up the pen again and making a second copy addressed instead to Johe. Fen's copy is left under his door in the Four Winds, Johe's under the door to the Guyver's shop. For now, all that is left is to wait.* |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 10 Mar 2007 04:46 PM |
The need for rest was gone, and accepted. Food as well, though he still indulged at times. All that was left to him was the work. Because when he stopped, the call of the blade was too much to take. The numbers were estimated. A poor way to plan a battle, to plan a war. But such things would come in time. For now, his worth needed to be proved. A brilliant victory would see him with the proper information to continue. A brilliant victory... with only the information he could turn up himself.
Was it irony, or perhaps poetic the training his uncle gave him in war was to be put to use in the study where his father taught him history, math, and even the theories of magic. Never the spells of course, that would come later he said. A truth. Though he would never see it for himself. The spells came only after his death. And those even were claimed to serve war. The disapproval radiated from the walls themselves. He never interfered, but a son studying warfare? Battle tactics? Swordplay? Love was still between then, but understanding of each other.. at least when it would have mattered was not to be.
He worked furiously over a host of simply drawn maps of Gladden, its surrounds, some mountian range, even Midor and what could only be a system of caverns. The map of Gladden taking his attention for now was covered in markers. His effort split between moving the markers about the map then making notes in a well made journal. He couldn't fail, one crushing defeat of the enemy and all he needed would come to him. Rather then him begging the support needed. Hours past and the markers continued in their unending formations, some being removed from the map entirely. Never did the fire om his eyes fade. As the sun rose, its fiery rays bouncing from the snow in through the winds he was finally satisfied. The figures and maps were put up, the journal locked in the his safe. Better to put it in the vault, then he could be sure only those of his bloodline could open it of which there was no other. But the vault itself was now a danger, so the safe would do. The home he closed up, taking pleasure in the sensation of the ancient protections bestowed by generations of his family, and he returned again to the Port. The city of information. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 12 Mar 2007 08:04 PM |
What is she thinking!? *the voice rings out, breaking the silence of the empty study*
An open meeting.. This is no roving band of pirates for adventurers to play hero with. All of those concerned she says, as if this war hasn’t touched every person living on the surface. And time to act. At least on this we agree… so why does she go on talking about it?
*he shakes his head, the frustration that had knotted his body since hearing of the meeting finally fading*
It doesn’t matter now, any sooner and it could be a threat. But events will be in motion before her war council even begins. Then words can be leaked as much as they want. As much as will happen with an open meeting
...
Wait. No, we’re seeing this the wrong way. We use it - use them. If we fail in the south, we face the end anyway, at least our end. But victory still leaves the north to finish this, and they must do it alone. So how do we use them? Those I’ll have need of will be found, but the rest?
...
*his eyes flare unseen, hope perhaps - or obsession?*
An army. The army of the north. My army of peasants, of farmers, refugees.. even the lost. I’ll need them all when I return. And these children, can I trust my forces to them?
...
Time gives us no other choice. Let the alliance make the call, and soldiers we’ll have. As for the concerned, these would be heroes - these children. Let them claim the army if they wish. Call it their own and bask in their fame. Let them train it and supply it for my return.
And with any luck, keep the Atalan from taking my fledgling army in the night - before its time has come. And without luck? *his mind offers no response, but the words allow him freedom from the rage. The notice drained from his thoughts, replaced instead by the meticulous details of war. Enough of them to drown in.* |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 13 Mar 2007 10:57 PM |
Write.. that seems all he did now. Letters to be written, plans to be made. Most couldn't even begin yet. Moving the Alliance, or more truly the Aristi was like moving a boulder. He'd done it before but its slow going. They're name gives him a voice. For those have yet to know him, he's a only smith, or a blade master.. no one.. Not in the way required. His must be a name that has Queens reading his letters, rulers must call on him for advice... but not yet. And no time... The chance has to be taken.. the opportunity will be gone before the Aristi can be moved along. So came the letter he didn't believe he'd write.
To those of the dwarven leadership,
My name may not be known to you, but it is Talion Deraith.
This letter comes to you as an offer, and a request. We, the free people of Vives, share a common enemy in the Durzagon and the Atalan. All of our people have been hurt by them, some more then others. And now it is time to strike back, all of us, united. My offer and request both are the same, that your armies become the spearhead to drive into the heart of our foe. I can not write in this letter the details regarding our opportunity to strike the first blow against those who would see us dead, for fear of what eyes may behold it. I have no title, and can write nothing of why you should trust me. I am a friend though to many, a guardian of the lost, and a blade in defense of our land. To show my sincerity in this, I offer this axe that you shall have received with this letter. It is in hope, that you will see me in person, I send this letter. To that end I will remain, a human in Ferein for four days. I can not say with certainty this offer which I make to you will still be possible to obtain once the fourth day dawns. If though you will see me after I will make known to you all my works, and offer what services that are mine to call on. I have a home near the Icy Vale, the inn will keep letters for me.
In Hope and Friendship to come,
Talion Deraith
The letter finished to his satisfaction, he looks to the axe. The mithril blade seeming to glow of itself. The scrollwork painstakingly etched into its surface the only place of darkness on the blade - calling out to be noticed. The workmanship is unmistakable for those who know the smith and no makers mark was left on the weapon to take from its beauty. He wraps it carefully with a heavy cloth tied closed with a light rope. His chance, his gamble, to see this war finally joined rather then fled from - his future placed on a parchment and axe. The letter and axe join his bulky pack, and he sets sail for Ferein. The axe and letter handed to a dwarven sentry, and the wait begins. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 19 Mar 2007 06:00 PM |
It could have gone better certainly. But still, it had gone well. The dwarves agreed to the plan. And only a week later then should have happened. Emma though. For some reason the meeting had taken her bite away, that had not been expected. And Markus with his slaves - the idea had the makings to become a plan Even still after the chat we had, I should have expected him to offer it in the counsel. We'd not have countered it of course, but leading into it would have taken some of the wind from his sails. And that. Would have been useful. Markus in command of such an assult would be more then foolish. For now though, we can let him see to idea as he wishes. Once my own battles are won we will see where his lead.
The dice had been cast in the south, with no turning back now. The only question left are the orclun. And its of little matter, if they can't be located we'll just have to have someone convince the slaves their families were already killed. It would give the durzagon a tool later though, so best to avoid it unless needed. The north however.. the north, the north. The army would be a stalling tactic. But with the harasment of their positions in the south, and an army on their door step it may force a withdraw from the surface. Or else it might just be slaughtered and leave less mouths to feed. Again.. not prefered but important to know. So which letters need to be sent now? The Alliance of course. Commander Mur... ah, yes the druids still need to be contacted. *a frown crosses his face* We're slipping - the magics, the tactics, the plans... my mind is shifting with the study of these spells, and outside of them slowing. Time it would seem to rely on paper. *a soft sigh escapes his lips along with an amused smile* A journal. Perhaps I will feel less a fool in using it now. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 23 Apr 2007 06:51 PM |
*What follows is an exerpt from a leather bound volume kept in a safe at Talion's home. It is found in a book filled mostly with random illustrations and half remebered dreams.*
The disgusted looks I grow used to, from friends and strangers alike. But the looks of respect I recall so clearly are gone. - I remeber Fri'el once said if you don't remind people to fear you regularly they quickly forget. - Seems the same with respect. So how do we get rid of this smell. Xaranthir says do what Desthdes says, only the Lich doesn't ask anything. Ophelia says bargain with it, but the only things I have of value are my skills, and Pandemonium neither of which I want to see in the Lich's service. That leaves seeking outside help. Grace, or Vestlat. Should I be concerned that our trust would go first to the Lich Vestlat, before the Aristi? What if the cost in all this turns out to be Pandemonium? Could we part with it? Could we part with an arm? It might be easier. *there are a few dots of ink here that look like he brought the pen back to the journal but ended up writing nothing more* |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 05 May 2007 07:51 PM |
I am no one. So far every word the Lich has spoken has proven true. I can still hear the voice from a creature with no breath, the sound not so much heard and just understood. You are no one. It is strange that such wisdom would come from it. Though wisdom or insult at the time, it can not be known. My flesh is not my own, my mind is being taken from me but it only mirrors who I already was. Just as he said, no one. My strength gave me confidence, my sword earned me respect, but all of it was false. Is it too late now, to try to become someone?
In my travels I have worked to forge people, more often then blades. Or so I thought at least. Rosen shattered, and was reworked. Emma. Emma perhaps will come through her fires as hoped. She still is a child in many ways, and it cost any trust I might have had but she is as steel now. The rest I tried with... they are fallen or forgotten. For now though, I have no choice but to look upward.
Xaranthir, Alton, Salt, even Vestlat... none have been either able or willing to aid me. And if the words of the creature of Desthdes are true I have little time to find an answer. Either I will be torn apart or I will turn to this power I feel growing inside. In neither do I see a hopefull future. For now, I only hope that avoiding any spell casting can slow this drain on Xaranthir, or myself for that matter. And maybe I will last long enough to see the Durzagon and Atalan broken. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 07 May 2007 08:52 PM |
Was it arrogence this time? Greed? Hunger for power? The only one yet to offer the smallest hope to survive and we turn him down? He knew what he asked for though, may as well asked for me to give up Elsa as Pandemonium. Its bond is as strong, perhaps more, with me. And for what? A name.. a name that not only might not be able to help, but might not be willing. No, we did right. The only mistake was turning the blade on him. We know the vampire will return. And it wasn't for the girl, no, it was his blood we wanted. So instead of hope, we gain another enemy. At least this one is no God.
So... will Ladriel still help? After the swam of demons on their doorstep. And if not, where next? Nailamme keeps coming up. The cost would be high there no doubt, but better I would hope then eternal servitude to the Lich. The Gathering is still an option, but if this inside of me in mindless then I will be no better off.
Worse now then just our death is the curse we have inflicted on Xaranthir. He may have more time, with the drain of his life so slow. But if there is a creature inside of me once I am used up or taken over by it, which ever is to happen, I expect the drain will only grow worse.
*the writing is barely readable here, the ink is so thin*
This isn't how I expect to die. The cocoon for some undead power? In my mind it was in battle, steel against magic... or aged and retired. I should speak to Salt about a will. And I will need to find someone of my great grandfather's bloodline to inherit the manor. And... Pandemonium... who should have such as it? Cedrych of course, but I have had no news in so long, he may have fallen. Rosen would have been my second choice, but I do not wish my blade in the service of Syn... and I can think of no other who favors such a blade that I would see use it. *the page is very blotted here, as though he began to write many times but found no words, it continues a few spaces away from the mess* I will speak to the matter with Salt, and perhaps Xaranthir. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 12 May 2007 08:42 PM |
| Kill and we grow stronger, kill and I'm free of this smell, this pain. It is strange really, to find freedom, to find the truth all I have to do is what I already do so well. And now blood fills my vision. I have always known I was a murder, I've even told those who cared to ask. Some name me adventurer and a few even call me a hero, but all I am is a murder. The people I kill are generally those that try to kill me first, but that changes nothing. A goblin raiding a caravan, or a simple tribal miner defending a deposit of rubies. Some of those deaths no doubt served other "good" beings. But every single one helped me. And now, my only hope is the one thing I have trained my every fiber for. And important or not, it is time to reclaim my Pandemonium. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 25 Mar 2008 12:09 PM |
He was no longer used to exertion, his days now spent mostly in study. And so sweat dripped from his brow and all that filled his mind was death. Death - His only purpose, even in taking up a trade he served death. His weapons spilled blood across the land even outside his presence now. There is no cure for the blood that fills his vision, no amends to make for the thousands dead by his hand. Perhaps this time something made by his hands will avoid death instead of causing it. Just this once... it can not make up for his life, nothing can now, but to see past the blood even for a moment would make it worth any cost. And so his hammer came up in the air, the gnomish metal glowing from the heat of his work, and fell again.. and again... and again. His workshop filled with the ringing hammer and the quiet words he chanted.
His last creation nearly killed him, but this... this was destined for great hands then his. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 10 Jul 2008 09:35 PM |
The letter was finished, sealed in quality paper with a ward against weather. Delivered to the tower with spells of invisibility and a soft step. Left stuck to the door by a beautiful glowing mithril dagger.
Master Fenghuul,
This letter comes to you, I hope, without harm done to your lands or those therein. I write to you as the most renown lore keeper of the demonic. Recently my companions and I have been hounded by demonic forces who's only voiced goal is our souls. The demon lord behind these attacks has power, it seems, based in fire, and an apparent mastery over creatures based in the same element. It is my desire that you might meet with us and share what knowledge you posses that may give us insight into the true motive of these creatures or the means to withstand them.
I understand you have other matters and unsure of what you may need or desire I include with this message a simple showing of my own work as a master smith and artificer in the form of a mithril dagger. We would be willing to discuss any compensation for your aid that you require either by meeting in person or by message. I reside in the Icy Vale, though a message may be left by way of the Buckshire Trading Post or town if it is prefered.
This letter is delivered in the names of the Seer Salt Sower, the druid Amon of Ferein, and Talion Deraith.
*the signature below this is signed by Talion alone* |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 11 Jul 2008 04:35 PM |
*A note written hastily and dropped into Salt's mailbox*
Salt,
Came to see you.. the imp was inside your gate. Check your potions, and add what wards you can.
Need to speak to you soon. The nightmares are getting stronger. Sent word to Fenghuul - will be in the north waiting for response.
-T
|
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 12 Jul 2008 05:32 PM |
((Seems like Talion is due an update to his character description.))
In the three years since his uncle's death and finding himself a stranger in the Four Winds, Talion has grown up considerably. His face still holds the traces of youth but as his twentieth birthday comes near a maturity he lacked when first coming north now shows itself clearly in all of his actions.
His skin retains a paleness to it - the color is not unnatural, just more suited to someone not used to being outside. Though, this paleness is always present even after spending days under a burning sun. His hair has lightened somewhat as well to a sandy brown but is still worn in beads. His eyes have gone to a stormy gray and he generally carries a serious expression. Numerous scars have appeared over the years, most noticeable, a thin slice across his left cheek above the jawline. He stands just over six feet, his herculion strength is apparent but not grotesque. (Think an elite soldier.. not a bodybuilder.)
His normal gear consists of a well tailored robe designed for freedom of movement. With Pandemonium worn at his left hip, its sheath is mithril worked with raised dragons running down its side. A small and simple battle axe is worn on his right. And he carries a large wood frame pack at his back, generally over his cloak. Across this a tower shield hangs. Apart from these he has a few pouches at his belt and inside his robes, a dagger on his right wrist and a few darts stuck in the back of his left gauntlet. |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 24 Jul 2008 04:29 PM |
“I’d build my own funeral pyre and light it before dealing with those who reside in that castle.”
The words once again brought to mind the similarities between Ferein and Midor. Both completely assured of their superiority and completely unbending in their beliefs. Time and again Amon proved Ferein lacks not their own paladin order, just that they call it by another name.
*Talion’s mind drifts as he wanders the Maldovian Museum.* He may be the one to light the pyre for the world itself if something can not be done to face the nightmare. *A soft sigh echoes through the hall, silent but for his own breathing.* The Atalan, Desthdes, Naillamne, Nethar’u, the Void, the list of those standing against civilization seem to grow larger with every breath. And each enemy a power in their own right, perhaps even a match for the gods.
Nascentes morimur, Syn wins. There is no other outcome to life, but with a little luck maybe the end can be made to wait a little while longer. How?
*He might as well be dreaming for all the effect his presence has on the room. There is no dust to be stirred by his pacing, the hall completely clean. The light in the room steady and the air completely still, he pays it no mind as his thoughts darken the room.*
Power to match power, is that the answer? For a time the sword had been enough. He uncle showed him that steel could save lives, and so he became the best. But metal breaks, it bends, it melts. Some foes are more then a body to break. His father died, and the lessons of a child returned. The blood of the first born for eight generations of De’raith had held power. So, the house became his, with his ancestors watching, always watching him at his studies. Knowledge is power, the echo of his father’s lessons to a child.
The arcane is a part of that power, but only a part. The lessons of a child mixed with the knowledge of a man granted him strength, but it was still not enough. They expected more, demanded more. Every one of his enemies holds the power to crush him. Every one of his enemies had left mortality behind, if they had had it at all. And now? There remain only a handful of mortals that match him. Can he leave it behind? Xaranthir knew that more then the power of a mortal was needed to face our enemies. But his search for the spell of destruction came to nothing.
The Stones, the Nodes, even the Avatar… each of those powers had been within reach; ready to be turned to his purpose. Ready to help him hold the land together, at least for a little while longer. He would not turn away again, could not turn away again. He would become what was needed to keep Vives alive. He would see pride in the eyes of his family. He will become the best, because there is no other choice.
*His steps take him from the museum, he gathers his gear and offer Lex a short nod in passing. Clarity of his goal has removed the last traces of youth from his expression as he enters the portal and returns to the mainland.* |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: Born of chaos
Posted: 26 Oct 2008 01:22 AM |
Sweat and blood mixed with smoke and ash to produce a dark motley colored goo that coated his skin and clothing. The fires filled the entire sky with bright orange light, and even from a mile away where he worked to keep the fires from the Plains he could feel the heat of the flames seeping past his enchanted amulet. Smoke filled his lungs and each breath was like trying to swallow sandpaper. So close to the rift of magic, his spells were twisted and useless, leaving him to toil next to a pair of water elementals snuffing out the small flames that sprouted from embers carried upon the winds. His mind shut down as the night turned to day and his body worked on. As the rains began, he offered a prayer of thanks to whom ever might be listening and fell to the ground. His eyes turned again to the glowing sky and he thought for a moment that if what he had done wasn't so horrifying it could almost be beautiful.
After laying on his back for a time, and letting the rain fall slowly into his mouth he wearily got to his feet. He and his companions slowly moved the distance required from the rift to work their magics. With his own resources drained he relied upon the scrolls he carried to hide them from sight, and they moved as quickly as their weary bodies could carry them from the scene of destruction they had wrought. He was quietly thankful for the spell as he couldn't have looked his companions in the eyes during their travels. His own thoughts led him in circles again and again over what they had done - the destruction they had unleashed. And at the same time, a very small voice inside of him delighted in their power display of power. After all, it wasn't everyday that three people turned an entire forest to ash. He offered another silent prayer as they traveled, to whomever had brought the rain. He prayed that the cause of the fire never be found out. |
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|