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Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter.
Posted: 28 Apr 2004 08:57 AM |
It had been many years since Muga had last seen her lord. She had done all he asked of her, and more. She was strong now. Mayhaps not the strongest in the land, but strong nonetheless. She had learnt much, even the most stupid of the elves and humans had occasionally taught Muga a few things, afore they died. She had feasted on countless hearts, including some of the largest in the lands. And the priestesses of Naruth, well they had proven the most enlightening by far. But still her lord had not called for her. Why? Had she displeased him somehow?
It was with these thoughts creating a maelstrom of emotions within her that she answered the call to come to the temple. The priests seemed to think the bits of paper they had found in the hag’s library held some answers to the location of the Dragon Brimscale. And Lani, with a wry smile, had assured Muga that Brimscale could tell her where her lord might be found. In truth it took little persuasion to arouse her interest, she was fascinated by all she had heard of this creature, and was eager to accompany the priests.
And so they gathered once again. Lani…there were few Muga feared, respected and liked so much, all in one. But she was the embodiment of everything Muga revered, a fearless warrior of undoubted prowess…whose flaming blades caused such carnage amongst her foes that even Muga was left breathless. She had accompanied them through the foothills to the volcano, and the giants that sought to impede her progress were slain with such ease that Muga had barely raised her own massive sword afore they lay in pieces before her.
Ilyana, now there was a human that Muga could almost respect. She was fierce and her inner flames burnt bright. She always took great pleasure in the carnage Muga could cause. Her facility with both words and spells had aided Muga many times; she dealt well with the stupid humans and elves that insisted in talking in such obscure ways. And of course there was the smell, Lord Flaarghain had marked this one somehow. She could smell it, there could be no doubt. And that was all the recommendation Muga would ever need.
Pyrrha, priestess of the flames. At first Muga had had her doubts about this one. She seemed to think she was beautiful. And indeed, for a human she was moderately attractive. But she did not wear armour…and she had no stomach for warfare. What use could she be? But she had learned swiftly. Lani and Ilyana led by example, and now she was coming to understand the fury of the flames, as well as their beauty. And she did like making fools suffer, Muga grinned to herself in remembrance. She was very striking in her new armour, perhaps as beautiful now as she had always believed. Yes, this priestess was proving a good ally indeed. Muga’s lord would like all three priestesses, of that there could be no doubt
And then there was Soaps. No priestess this one. But this little being intrigued Muga the most. The smell of her lord was stronger on her than on any other she had met. It seemed impossible she could not know Lord Flaarghain, though she claimed not to. And she was growing into a fascinating being, a little dragon. What she lacked in size and strength she more than made up for in ferocity…the way she would charge in to claw and bite at creatures ten times her size. How could such ferocity not be admired? And she loved shinies, perhaps even more than Muga herself did. She was…fun, and Muga truly enjoyed her company. Though little, she had all the heart and fire that Muga herself knew so well.
And this was the group that gathered inside the top of the volcano. While the priests prayed amidst the flames of their temple, Muga relaxed, basking next to the warmth of the lava. Indeed, she dozed for a short while, her armour turning red hot to the touch. Muga was never more comfortable than here, it was her favourite spot to relax in and dream of her lord. She was awoken from her dreams when the others began to stir…
Lani had read the scrolls, and said they must seek out a man named Jones. He could be found in either the village of Paws or otherwise Port Royale. Muga’s heart fell when she heard this latter. Not another boat journey. Well, perhaps she could persuade the others to go across land. This might be her favourite place in the whole wide world, but the hot sandy lands she was fond of also. Indeed, perhaps she would give them no choice in the matter. And so, grinning to herself, she left the volcano, grimacing at the perpetual rain that descended in these lands. She plunged headlong down the mountainside, any giants that sought to block her egress soon regretted their mistake, falling swiftly to the assembled might of the group. On she travelled, her powerful legs pumping their way ever onwards, her companions following swiftly in her wake. Numerous small adversaries stumbled across her path and fell, but she barely noted them. And she passed the point where they would turn for the city and the dreaded boats, passed it swiftly and headed out onto the great plains.
Only to be halted by Pyrrha and Soapie demanding to know where she was going. Groaning, she turned back to them…
“Pleaze not da boat. Letz go by da hot landz.”
“Alright, but isn’t Paws closer. Lets go there first”
“Yuz woz followin me?” Muga replied, seemingly greatly surprised whilst inwardly delighted.
The look of relief on her face was missed by the others as they turned back the way they had come. No boats this day. Life was good. And so they headed back, but not towards the city, instead up some hills Muga had not travelled in a long while. And when they reached the summit and passed into the lands beyond she remembered why. Stinking elfy lands, water everywhere. Not as bad as the boats, but bad enough. There were countless streams to cross. The two humans plunged through with little more than a contemptuous glance at the water. But Soapie noticed Muga’s obvious reluctance and encouraged her to jump. With all her abhorrence for getting soaked she tried, but the armour she wore weighed her down too much, and the water greedily soaked her to the waist. Shivering in disgust she plunged on through, wafts of steam rising around her as the water hit her skin. Refusing to give in to her horror they chased after the two priestesses, only to encounter yet another even wider stream. Eyes wide, Muga looked on in horror. But without a word Soapie took pity on Muga, and breathed in heavily, the smell of sulfur filling the air. And then Soapie exhaled, a large ball of flame suddenly shot from her mouth, momentarily turning the flow of water into nothing more than steam through which Muga gratefully plunged. She would remember that trick, her own inner fires would truly prove useful if confronted by such an obstacle again.
Thankfully there were no more large streams to cross, and they left those foul lands behind. And came without further incident to the village of Paws. Pyrrha changed out of her armour into one of the many dresses she seemed to always carry. Muga looked on disapprovingly, but with a grudging understanding that this was just one of the weapons in the priestess’s armoury. And indeed, this day it proved a useful weapon, Pyrrha led the way and Ilyana seemed glad to follow in flirtatiously following lead after lead. And soon they found themselves in the village inn. The information needed was obtained by Pyrrha, and some fun was had tormenting one of the local men who had been foolish enough to anger the fiery priestess. The other occupants of the inn soon learnt better as well, and Ilyana indulged one of her favourite occupations, teaching a young boy of the glories of Naruth and ridiculing the lessons his parents had tried to impart to him. Muga spent her time mocking the half orc that was meant to keep peace in the inn, a scrawny individual that obviously knew better than to respond in any way, whilst Soapie simply seemed a little disappointed that there was to be no blood shed.
And so the group travelled on, seeking this Jones’s camp that they had discovered lay near unto the coastline. Whilst the others searched near unto the ocean, Muga’s natural abhorrence for such large bodies of water led her a little further inland. Some of the wildlife seemed determined to impale themselves upon her sword, and so she dutifully obliged them. And then she saw a campsite. Surely this was the place. She shouted for her companions and strode forward, as a man stepped forth from within the tent. He took one look at Muga, and began to cast. She bit back her normal impulse to separate his head from his shoulders and tried instead to reason with him…
“Oi yuz, me just wantz to talk wiv yuz.”
The spell completed, acidic rain and lightning poured down upon Muga.
“Buggah dat urtz, roight yuz, cum ere an getz sum” she growled.
All thoughts of the importance of keeping him alive forgotten, Muga charged…only to be struck by an even more powerful bolt of lightning that left her reeling and stunned. Luckily her companions ran up, and Ilyana swiftly called forth the healing fires of her goddess and saved Muga from falling into the deepest darkness she would ever know. Meanwhile Pyyrha and Soapie tried to calm the man down, and eventually succeeded. Muga came to, covered in lightning marks and acidic droplets, to hear the man say…
“Ahh, no harm done, she’s alive after all. Didn’t realise the orc was with you” he chuckled to himself, as though the entire incident had been of great amusement to him.
Muga, however, failed to be quite so amused and with a growl started towards the man…
“No fewkin ‘arm dun. Yuz mad. Mez gunna showz yuz sum ‘arm alroight…”
By this stage Pyrrha and Ilyana had hold of an arm each as Muga walked menacingly forward, whilst Soapie desperately tried to break through the red mist that Muga was currently in full thrall to…
“No bashin yet Muga”
As all three slowly began to get through to the angry orc, the man backed away a little, looking suddenly nervous.
“Mez gunna rip hiz armz an legz off if he notz be very, very noice”
By this stage the man, obviously a powerful warrior and priest of nature, had gone quite pale.
“Muga? Muga!? Y…you are one of his then…” and the man began to tremble.
Remembering why she was here, Muga replied “Yuz knowz me lord den?”
“Y.. your lord…? You mean…Flaarghain?”
“Datz roight” Muga nodded happily “So, where iz he den, yuz tellz me!?”
By this stage the man seemed to have lost all his earlier confidence, and moved slowly away from the group, trembling in terror as they spread out to prevent any escape.
“Yuz bettah startz talkin oomie. And mez meanz now!”
“No. He cannot be connected with more of his…spawn!”
“Yuz makin me angry. Datz not a clevah ting to do”
“I don't care! For the good of all, you can not, must not meet him!”
“Why not?” both priestesses enquired simultaneously.
“He sends his spawn on… horrid missions... in the name of that witch of a goddess who he prays to...”
“Oh dear” Soapie’s words did not match the delighted grin she wore at hearing the man condemn himself “We didn't want ta 'ave ta do this, Jones.”
Both priestesses reached for their weapons as one, angered beyond all tolerance, and the man suddenly stood straighter and completed the spell he had been surreptitiously casting. A bright burst of dark energy and Pyrrha fell to the ground with a muffled cry. The time for restraint was done, Muga’s bellow of rage came from the heart and was matched by the ferocity of Ilyana and Soapie’s attacks. Moments later, the charred body of the man lay next to Pyrrha’s crumpled, seemingly unharmed but unmoving body.
Ilyana swiftly checked and confirmed Pyyrha had been slain by the spell. And on doing so she raised her arms to the skies and screamed out a prayer to Naruth…
“Naruth hear me my goddess of fury and fire! Hear my prayer and raise our fallen friend and your devoted cleric, Pyrrha. She has served you well and will bring many more souls to your fiery embrace.”
The incantation done, Ilyana summoned forth her power and the power of her goddess…there was an explosion of fire and when all could once again see, Pyrrha Sylaire stood unharmed once more. She wore a wry smile upon her face as she felt the power of her goddess embrace her before departing.
Then all turned to survey the body of the fallen man.
“Mmhm-m. That didn't go too well.” Soapie opined.
Nodding agreement, the group discussed what to do with the man. Soapie favoured cutting his arms off then restoring him to life. Other forms of disfigurement were suggested, all ending with him being restored to life there and then.
Muga stood slightly aside, a frown creasing her forehead. She looked around worriedly, then tore a scroll into small strips and quickly ate it. Arcane power blazed from her eyes and she looked around once more, and seemed content that no hidden beings were observing them. Then she muttered to herself…
“Me lord tellz me wot to doez if sumfink loik dis happenz”
Turning to address the rest of the group she spoke again, louder this time.
“We takez im some wherez safe. Some where we can talkz to im an he not getz away.” Her forehead again creases in pain as she tries to think, and for a brief moment it is as though a hidden intelligence blazes forth from behind her eyes…
“Mez can carryz im to da foiry temple. Me eatz more papah magikz so dat da body is invisahble loik, den me carryz im. And we talkz to im at da temple”
And so saying, Muga rummaged deep within her pack and pulled forth a scroll with a satisfied grunt. Again she tore it into small strips and swiftly consumed it, belching forth the power it contained…and the body disappeared from sight. She reached down and lifted the now invisible body aloft with ease, slinging it over her shoulder. Turning away from the tent she began to stride off, when Pyrrha suggested a search of the tent afore they left. All four searched high and low, Muga callously discarding the body outside without a thought. But it was Soapie’s superior senses that noted some disturbed earth underneath the ground sheet of the tent. She dug swiftly with her claws and in no time had unearthed a hidden chest. Within it was a couple of fine blades and a suit of highly enchanted armour. Muga’s nostrils flared in excitement as she breathed in deeply.
“Dat smellz loik me lord. Dey all smellz loik me lord. Hez touched dem…deze tingz uzed to be hiz.” Scowling she walked outside and kicked the body again, impatient for the answers she needed.
The others dragged out the loot, and Muga stripped off her own armour to try on the new, bright red armour. It was a perfect fit, and she was amazed at the ease of her movements. She doubted even the master smith Daimon could craft quite this well, it was supremely well made and seemed moulded to follow every contour of her body. As she turned around to admire it, she noted a small piece of paper attached to one of the greaves. Looking closer she saw those peculiar scawlings upon it that humans termed writing.
“Wotz dis den?” she asked her companions.
And with a bemused smile Soapie answered that the label bore the name ‘Muga’. Even more determined to find out what this man knew, and why he had armour with her name upon it, she hefted the body aloft once more and set off at a loping run.
The journey back to the temple was uneventful. Even with Muga unable to fight due to the awkward burden she carried they won through to the sanctity of the temple with ease. The invisibility spell wore off the corpse as she laid it down at the foot of the stairs, and all gathered around as the two priestess began their prayers to see if Naruth would return life to the heretic male…
((to be continued. Be warned the next bit definitely deserves a PG 13 rating at least, and is mainly bloody gruesome torture and such fun…I will take most of the description from the log and there’s nothing that disturbing but just be aware it wont be for the weak of stomach. Sorry this was so long, and congrats to anyone who read this far! Hope you enjoyed, was a really good session to play.)) |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter.
Posted: 28 Apr 2004 09:22 AM |
*Stands on a table and applauds*
A great read!....long as hell...but worth it! :) |
I'm The Cult of Personality. |
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Re: Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter.
Posted: 28 Apr 2004 09:38 AM |
Superbly written again! I'm eagerly awaiting the sequel (Oh yeah and the continuation of your novel!!) |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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Re: Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter.
Posted: 28 Apr 2004 10:03 AM |
Brilliantly written. =)
Now finish it. I don't like waiting.....
*laughs*
-Barnas |
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Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter. pt2
Posted: 29 Apr 2004 06:57 AM |
((as per the above disclaimer, lots of (un)necessary violence and torture in this bit. I dont 'think' its too vivid but just be aware please before reading))
Muga entered the interior of the volcano with a relieved sigh, glad to be away from the perpetual rain. With a casual shrug she tossed the body to the floor, just as the invisibility spell finally wore off. The entire group shared Muga’s relieved expression, and Pyrrha walked over to the body with a cold smile on her face and kicked it, admittedly with more enthusiasm than effect, given its current state. The man had slain Pyrrha, and for that his suffering was only just about to begin. Death was no obstacle to Naruth’s fury, and it was time for this man to learn that.
“Our powers should be stronger here to return him. Hold him down Muga.” Ilyana spoke with increased authority and confidence.
This was her home, the center of her power. And she could feel Naruth’s power flowing through her, eager for the pain and suffering that was to commence very soon. She smiled as she saw Muga kneel down upon the man’s legs; the orc warrior, clad as she was in full plate mail, had snapped the man’s legs like twigs as she knelt upon them. The grin on Muga’s face was anything but contrite though. Just a shame the foolish man could not feel the agonizing pain, yet. It was time to remedy that…she chuckled softly to herself and turned to her sister priestess.
“Shall we pray for the return of his soul then Pyrrha?” her cold smile was matched by the fiery glint in her eyes.
“Pray? To return him? I truly do not wish to pray to our Lady for this impure soul.” Pyrhha seemed torn by her desire for revenge, and her teaching’s of Naruth’s strictures.
“Our Lady can take his soul for her own afterwards. It will be her decision of course, but I think she will be glad to prolong his suffering” Ilyana spoke with utter confidence.
With a happy smile, Pyrrha nodded her acquiescence, and both priestesses knelt upon the floor. Eyes closed, they could feel the power of the temple thrumming through every vein, every sinew of their body. Never did they feel more alive, than here in their spiritual home. The lava pools that flowed all around became more agitated, spumes of fiery liquid shot upwards and seemed to dance all around, as the elementals of the temple came to watch what was to transpire. And then Ilyana spoke her prayer…
“Lady Naruth, this fool tried to thwart your will. If it pleases you, return him to us so that we may question him…” the priestess had barely started her prayers when they were answered.
A veritable explosion of fire swept through the temple, the power of a goddess could be felt by all. The body on the floor twitched, and then screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. All gathered a little closer, enjoying the music of his suffering.
“Ahhh! My legs!! What have you done!?” The man’s eyes were wide in agony and shock, deliciously conscious of every last bit of suffering his abused body underwent.
“Nuffink loik wot we iz goin ta doez to yuz” Muga reassured him, shifting her weight so that the broken bones ground together, splintering even further.
The man’s body bucked underneath the weight of the orc, and he seemed determined to writhe free and crawl away from his tormentors. But his determination was no match for that of his captors. With supple ease Ilyana placed her booted foot firmly upon his neck, crushing his windpipe until his writhing stopped. Few men could imagine his view of such a shapely thigh without ardour, but such was surely the last thing he could think of in his current predicament. Ilyana relieved the pressure enough so that he could breathe…for the choking noises he was emitting sounded fairly genuine. And she altered her position just enough that the man’s eyes could see Pyrrha, who had drawn her flaming dagger and was kneeling down beside him with an expression that could almost be construed as loving. She reached out to caress his face, a gentle caress that elicited another, even more ardent scream, for it was with the flames of her blade that she caressed him, watching with a gentle smile as one entire side of his face blackened and charred.
“Now then, enough sweet talking, all we wanted was a few simple answers. I gave you a chance. You chose to ignore me.” Pyrrha's words were tinged with regret, with the confused bewilderment a parent feels when confronted by a deliberately awkward and disobedient child.
“Now then, listen very carefully to me. If you shall not give us the answers we seek, I shall ask my Lady that she will keep you alive forever... in a pool of lava.” Pyrrha continued with conviction that her request would be answered.
“That’s not fair” The man gasped, his anger and determination at last overcome by sheer horror.
“Datz roight, datz not fair at all” agreed Muga “Datz much tuz gud fur ‘im”
“Fair!?” all trace of compassion disappeared from the priestesses voice.
“You DARE speak to me of what is fair? You killed me!” and so saying she drew back her foot and kicked him with all the fury her goddess gifted her with, smiling in satisfaction at his pained groan.
“You had it coming witch” the man resumed his defiance, glaring at his captors.
“Real brigh' spark we 'ave 'ere.” Soapie stifled a smile as she settled back to enjoy the spectacle.
Pyrrha waved the dagger back and forth in front of the man’s gaze, smiling as he watched the dance of the flames, nearly entranced by the terror of what was to come next. Then she slowly inserted the blade into the fleshiest part of his thigh. The man muttered to himself in seeming agony, obviously trying to deny the assemblage the satisfaction of more screams.
“Oid start talkin if I woz yuz. Dey startin to enjoyz dis. Soon dey wont carez if yuz tellz em.” Muga’s sincere advice was interrupted by an unearthly roar from behind her.
The man’s muttering had not been of agony however, somehow through the pain and suffering he had maintained the presence of mind to summon forth a huge fiery demon. Muga drew her sword and charged into the fray, alongside her companions. The Balor, for such it was, raised its flaming sword aloft and drove the blade with all its strength for Ilyana’s heart, its unholy strength and accuracy driving with pinpoint accuracy to skewer the priestess. The incredulity and shock on the demon’s face as its sword shattered into a million fragments was nearly comical…the hell forged metal of its blade was no match for armour blessed by Naruth, and worn by her priestess in her very own temple. Weaponless, the demon swiftly fell beneath their combined assault. And the man, he had spent the last of his energy…he lay back, a look of utter resignation on his face.
“Bloody 'ell. Wha' was that all about?” asked Soapie. “I told yer we shoulda cut 'is arms off...”
Nodding agreement, Ilyana and Pyrrha swiftly gagged him, and then Pyrrha proceeded to neatly amputate each of the fingers of his left hand, aided by Soapie biting clean through the man's thumb. Ilyana called forth minor cantrips of healing to keep him awake and aware through the entire process. Muga grew more and more restless as this continued, and by the time they had finished with one hand and removed the gauntlet of the other she had had enough.
“Buggah dis. He knowz where me lord iz. He tellz us now!” And with that she drew forth her greatsword and in a single swipe cleaved off the other hand entirely.
The man retched and moaned, indecipherable noises of agony emerging from beyond the gag. And when the sodden gag was removed, more screams emerged in a constant stream. The mephits of the temple gathered closer, dancing and frolicking to the sweet sounds of his agony, the entire temple seemed to have stilled as the inhabitants listened to the sweet noises that brought such pleasure to all who heard them.
“YER A WITCH! YER ALL WITCHES! YER ALL MAD!” The man’s eyes were bulging now “NOW I KNOW WHY I DIDN'T GIVE YA THAT ARMA! YER AN ABOMINATION! JUS' KILL ME AN' BE DUN WITH ET!”
“Save yer breath... we're jus' gettin' warmed up.” Soapie informed him.
“Indeed.” Pyrhha agreed “Now be quiet, or we will start down there.” So saying she eyed the armour encasing his groin with an enthusiastic grin.
The man, beyond pain or reason, struggled half upright and launched a feeble head butt against Muga, who had resumed her seated position upon his legs. Muga accepted the hit with a surprised grin, and then flung her own head back and then forwards with much greater impetus. The man’s nose splattered, spraying blood all over the orc’s face. Delighted, Muga licked the blood coating her face and accepted yet another headbutt, even weaker this time. This human had spirit, she was beginning to feel aroused, it had been too long since she had known such pleasure. Again her broad forehead crashed into his, and he slumped back, eyes glazed yet still defiant.
“Yuz a prity liddle oomie. Me tinkz me moight havez sum fun wiv yuz before we cutz off yur bitz” Muga grinned down at him, oblivious to the look of terror and disgust in the man’s eyes.
Pyrrha looked from the man to Muga and inspiration glowed in her eyes, she turned back to the man and demanded “How would you like to spread the spawn as you so call them?”
“Yer wouln' make m' do no such thin'!” the panic in his voice was undisguised now.
“Wouldn't you like to be the father of the next generation?” Pyrrha asked, with a gentle smile.
“Yer all sick. NO! I wont do it” The desperation rose another notch.
“I am not giving you a choice mister Jones. Tell us what you know or…” Pyrrha was thoroughly enjoying herself now.
“NOOooo! I won’ say nothin’!”
“Very well Muga...he’s all yours” and she gestured as if to say, Ive done all I can.
Muga deftly sliced the lacings on the man’s armour and in little time had him stripped to his undergarments. The man’s panicked gaze sought out each of the witnesses to what was to occur…from Soapie he received just an amused grin…from Pyrrha a shrug that it was out of her control now…and from Ilyana a wink and a knowing nod towards Muga.
“La's chance, dear.” said Soapie.
“Willing or not, you shall spread that which you despise the most dear mister Jones” Pyrrha reminded him with a girlish giggle, “Unless of course you will tell us what we wish to know”.
As Muga moved towards her goal, the man’s eyes betrayed his defeat. His horror at what was to come was more than he could stand. He surrendered…
“I’ll tell yas! Just make ‘er leaves mes alone!” the man stared beseechingly towards Pyrrha.
Pyrrha nodded to Muga, who with a resigned sigh sank back to her perch on the human’s legs, eliciting another scream of agony.
“Tell us then, we are listening…” Ilyana’s voice expressed impatience.
“Br..br... the dragon who walks as a man...he...y…you… fin...d...h..him…” and the man proceeded to tell all who listened exactly what they needed to know to begin their search.
“Now leaves me alone!” he finished with a last defiant yell. His eyes pleaded for his suffering to end.
Muga’s forehead creased as she tried to follow all that had been said. Dragon that walked like a man? Was that why her lord smelt the way he did. Realisation began to form behind her piggish little eyes. How could she ever have believed he was a human…what human could ever be as magnificent as her lord?
“What else do you know?” Ilyana demanded.
“Yer ugly.” he replied defiantly, but then he looked to Muga and a smile lit his eyes…
“He’ll be looking for 'er! Lookin’ for tha sick one, the uglay one!” he gazed at Muga with hatred in his eyes “The one 'oo stinks ‘a crap!”
“Wot bout me lord. He sez he wud callz when hez ready” Muga ignored the insults, focussed solely on finding her lord “howz yuz getz da armah from im?”
“ 'Ee wanted ya years back!” the man slumped back, with a content smile on his face “'ee told me ta get ya!”
“But I din’ cos ya uglay an’ sick like ah knew ya would be” his voice rose to a defiant finish.
“Yuz IDIOT!!” Muga roared, pulling her greatsword free of its sheathe once more.
Her rage was palpable to all in the room, and even the priestesses of Naruth, goddess of fury, took a wary step back from the orc. But the man continued unabated…
“'ee was like... get my daughter for me Jones, my old friend…and I was like "Yes"…AND THEN AH DIDN'! 'COS YER AN ABOMINATION!”
Muga strode forward, blade raised. Then suddenly she stopped, her eyes widened. And she reeled back, as though mortally struck. All watched the scenario unfold…and realisation came to them all with Muga’s next words…
“Daughta!? Yuz loyin!” Muga’s voice belied her confusion and pain.
The man tried to laugh but choked on his own blood. But his eyes, his eyes laughed at Muga as she saw the truth in them. The mist descended and when next Muga became aware the man lay in pieces, scattered all about.
And so Muga came to learn that her beloved lord, the ‘human’ she worshipped above all, was more than she had ever known, in so many ways more than she had ever suspected. And so the search for her father began… |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter. pt2
Posted: 29 Apr 2004 07:04 AM |
*applause*
*more applause*
-Barnas |
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Re: Muga Bugbreath, the beginning of a new chapter. pt2
Posted: 29 Apr 2004 07:21 AM |
*OOC*
Great writing Sirac!!! I think you caught the spirit of the moment quite well. ;)
*applauds* |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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The testing of the four
Posted: 05 May 2004 06:52 AM |
The sun was yet to crest the hills outside of Midor, yet the city thrummed with life already. The merchants were setting up their stalls, and many people hurried to and fro, some just arising and some on their way to much needed rest. And it was here, at the gates to the city, that the quartet sought to commence the next stage of their quest in search of Muga’s father…Lord Flaarghain…Brimscale. All one and the same being.
They had the location to begin their search. And awaited only the dawn to herald the time of departure. Whilst they waited the priestesses and Soapie had their fun teasing any passing males…who could not help but notice two beautiful women clad in matching full red plate armour. Standing in such a way that they knew they drew the eye, relishing the attention whilst quick to put any male who thought himself worthy of their attention in his place. Muga stood aside, for she knew that it was not fair to the others to join in this competition…she had already proved herself the most beautiful…let them have their fun.
Finally, as the first rays of the sun glinted off their armour, Pyrrha turned to the others…
“Should we investigate the, uhm, place we were told of then?” she asked.
The eagerness with which all agreed was palpable. And they commenced their journey, running towards the rising sun and the great plains. But they had barely set out afore they came to an abrupt stop. For in the distance, at the campfire in the plains, a figure dressed all in red could be seen. Thinking it might be Lani come to bless their quest, they hurried towards her. Only to realise, whilst human, this woman was most certainly not Lani.
“Iz dis annuver priesty den?” queried Muga, thinking her lord would be glad of yet another follower.
The hostile glare on both priestesses faces was enough to answer Muga’s query, as they confronted the stranger, “Who are you?” demanded Ilyana.
“Me?…” the stranger replied, looking defensive and rather taken aback by the four figures that now surrounded her on all sides.
“Do you see anyone else standing here?” demanded Pyrrha.
“I'm Cynda LeRange. Reporter, for the Port Royale Tribune.” the woman smiled nervously as she replied.
“So, you seek to imitate us, is that it?” Ilyana’s eyes revealed her fury.
“Why are you wearing red? That is our colour.” clarified Pyrrha, her anger matching that of her sister priestess.
Now thoroughly perturbed, the woman looked down at her garments, and then at the two angry women who confronted her. With a shrug she replied…
“Red armor was what Artimus had available at the Black Pearl. Why do you wear red?” her eyes revealed both concern and curiosity.
“Coz itz flamy stoopid” Muga enlightened the poor woman.
“But mez not a priesty, an’ me wearz it. Me tinkz itz pritiah” Muga continued, oblivious to the glares of the two priestesses.
“Artimus you say. I think we shall have a word with this man.” Pyrhha stated with a tone of controlled anger.
“Meanwhile perhaps you should think on changing your look lady.” Ilyana said in a tone of utter contempt.
“I'll be sure to when I return to town” Cynda replied, seemingly glad her inquisition was over.
And with that Soapie and the two priestesses headed off, not noticing Muga had stayed behind to add one last comment.
“Me tinkz yuz luk noice in dat. Don’t yuz go changin’ ” she stated with a grin and a wink, before rushing off after her companions.
They travelled through many familiar lands, their time together serving them in good stead as they battled many beasts. Their familiarity with each others movements continued to grow, Muga taking the lead with her greatsword aflame, charging any threat with fearless abandon. Soapie usually as close to Muga as she could manage, equally fearless, using the orc warrior as a diversion whilst she sought the most favorable opportunities to strike. And the two priestesses working in concert, their flaming blades dancing in and out, dealing devastation to anything that came their way. And in such a manner the group carved their way across the lands, coming at last to the area they had been told to begin their search within. And it was here, at the very outskirts of those lands that their search both began and ended.
For there stood a gateway, illuminated in glowing lights that danced and flickered through all the colours of the spectrum. Generally that would have been enough to captivate the attention of any, but was barely noted by the quartet of questors. For before the gate stood a creature of legend…a mighty dragon. Scales aflame, eyes brimming with power, twice the size of the mighty gates, the creature inspired awe in all. Yet, Muga's face portrayed disappointment as she sniffed the air and shook her head. This was not her lord…a minion of his mayhaps, but twas not her lord.
“Wot da buggahrin ‘ell!?” the orc warrior exclaimed, over the gasps of her companions.
“Ahh…so you must be the ones Lani thinks are worthy.” the wyrm stated, its powerful voice causing the very earth to rumble.
“Yuz smellz loik me lord. Mez ready to foind ‘im. Where iz he?” Muga, whilst as awed as her companions, was driven by this one overwhelming desire.
“Yes, Lani thinks we are worthy” Ilyana confirmed, drawing on her own inner strength to converse with the powerful creature.
“But of course I smell like your Lord, dearest Muga. And it is good that you are all less…questioning than the last group. But you think you are ready? The last lot thought that also…they were wrong.” The dragon stated this last in an amused tone…and none needed to ask what had happened to those it referred to.
“Well if you are sure, then know that I am the gatekeeper. It is me you must pass. There are two ways to reach him. You must either satisfy me that you are worthy, or slay me.” The last said in a tone of such incredulity that all knew there was really only the one option.
“And how do we satisfy you?” Pyrrha enquired in a timid voice, from the position she had taken behind Muga.
“Owing to the…esteemed company you travel in” the wyrm glanced at Muga “I will perhaps be more lenient than usual.”
“To serve, you must know no fear. You must be always victorious. Your faith in her must be unshaken. And your faith in him should never falter.” So saying, in an explosion of sulfuric power, the wyrm disappeared.
The four companions looked at each other, unsure of what they were supposed to do now. Suddenly a man dressed in red garbs appeared in their midst and continued to speak. Muga sniffed the air, and nodded to his companions questioning looks. This was the same being.
“Now, the facts I have given you are the knowledge you need to complete the test, which is explained thus… as you are no doubt aware, there is a White Dragon near Icy Vale.” The man’s voice expressed utter contempt for that of which he spoke.
“What you are perhaps not aware of is a secret of that particular dragon, unknown by many…” the man paused, and seeing he had piqued their interest, continued.
He explained to them something of the hidden nature of the dragon in the icy vale. A secret few mortals knew…and that was indeed unknown to all four that heard his words. And as he continued it became apparent to all just how much of a challenge lay ahead…for they were instructed that to pass their test they must return with the leg-bone of this mighty adversary. And once the extent of the task ahead of them was clear, the man disappeared.
The group turned to one another and began to discuss what they were to do. All had known of this ice dragon, and all were keen to see it slain. Though with what they hadst discovered, the challenge was likely to be the greatest they had ever faced, not a single one considered turning from it. And so, united, they began the long journey to the region where dwelled the ice wyrm. None amongst them held any liking for where they travelled, but nonetheless they made swift progress, and soon arrived at the inn that was the last bastion of warmth and comfort in these inhospitable lands. And so they took their seats in the inn, and in hushed tones discussed the task that lay ahead.
“We face a fearsome foe.” Pyrrha stated the simple truth.
“Dis iz gunna be a real gud foight.” Muga agreed.
“Yet we must not be afraid” Ilyana said.
“In Naruth we trust.” Pyrrha agreed, pale faced but determined “I shall pray for appropriate spells.”
“Well, some 'halflin' corage'll sort tha 'fear' part.” Soapie stated, proceeding to drink a full bottle of spirits as both priests began their prayers, crouched as close to the fireplace as they could get.
Muga meanwhile was muttering to herself as she pulled out sheaf after sheaf of parchment. Some she placed aside, others stuffed haphazardly back in her backpack. Then she handed those she had kept aside to Soapie, and when she was done praying, to Ilyana also. Both recipients nodded gratefully, successfully hiding their disgust at the detritus that clung to several of the scrolls. It took little time to render the scrolls legible…apparently something that was of little import to Muga. They would be as well protected as it was possible for them to make themselves for this fight.
“We should cast our preparations outside the cave entrance. Are we all ready?” asked Ilyana.
As the group looked to each other, all could see the same wary determination in each other’s eyes. And so they left the inn, barely noticing the cowering locals who were grateful to be ignored. And they ran for the dragon’s cave…the challenge of those who sought to halt their progress resulted in much orcish blood being spilled, none of it Muga’s. Indeed Muga ran through these lands, snow sizzling whenever it touched her bare skin, as though she had known them her entire life. As in fact she had, for it was not far from here that she had been born. And she had not the slightest compunction in slaying those who had sought to condemn her to death those many long years ago.
And so in swift order they came to the cave mouth they sought. The humans shivering in the cold, they began their preparation. Muga tore scroll after scroll into strips, swiftly devouring them and then belching forth their arcane power. And as she did so the priests incanted their prayers to Naruth, and Ilyana and Soapie read their own scrolls, until the air was thick with the stench of arcane energy. As prepared as they could be for the task ahead, they looked once more to each other, and entered the cavern. Prepared fer an immediate assault from the dragon or its minions…or to have to rush further into the caves to hunt the creature down…the last thing any of the companions had expected was what they in fact discovered.
They stood in a corridor of light. Floors, wall and ceiling all seemed comprised of the same ephemeral light, glowing and pulsating all about them. They seemed frozen, aware of all about them, yet unable to move or speak. And in front of them a man stood, obviously a mage yet otherwise nondescript, his features seemed to blur and shift such that none could retain a clear impression of who it was that addressed them.
“So, you have come as it was written in the sands of time that you would. My greetings to you. I am Sen'sal, Archmage of the 3rd Order. I am here to give you... a glimpse of your future.” with his final words, time seemed to once more flow.
“Ya wot?” was Muga’s immediate response, swiftly followed by…
“Where da ‘ell iz da oicy draggie den?”
“How can you show us the future?” Pyrrha adapted more swiftly to this unexpected development.
“Step into the portal and you shall see” the man replied, gesturing in front of them to where a glowing portal had appeared.
“Why shud wez trust yuz?” demanded Muga.
“Why should we trust you?” demanded Ilyana simultaneously to Muga.
“It is written that you will trust” the man replied with a shrug.
“For Naruth!” Pyrrha exclaimed and without a moment’s hesitation stepped into the portal.
The others glanced at each other, shrugged and as one stepped towards the portal, each in turn disappearing…
As each of the four stepped into the portal, they felt their very existence, their sense of individuality and existence fade. They saw time expand all around them…from the beginning through to the very end, all was one. From birth to death, creation to destruction, everything that life and the universe entailed was embodied in a single moment. And then, in the void, there was a pull. Faint at first, yet becoming increasingly insistent. And they became aware once more of their own existence. They found themselves on a path comprised of light, travelling through the void. Each of their companions was there…yet they had eyes only for the cosmos through which they travelled. And they each heard the same voice speak within their head…
“We go to where you are, but not when you are. We go but an hour in the ocean of time.” As the voice finished speaking, each of them was thrown from the corridor, onto the stony floor of the dragon’s cave.
They landed in an explosion of sparks, exclaiming in pain and surprise. And leading into the hidden depths of the cavern was another pathway of light. They could somehow tell that all was not yet right…they were not in the same place…or time as when they had first entered the cave. With nothing else to do, they followed the lights. And came upon a grisly scene…
For there lay their bodies. Identical down to the very last detail. Weapons drawn, magic still glimmering in the air about their fallen forms. The flames of their blades extinguished. Huge gaping wounds adorned each of their bodies, and towering above them, beginning its feast stood a dragon…the ice wyrm, huge and powerful beyond their comprehension, seemingly unscratched from the conflict that had apparently ended with this dire conclusion. The shocked, awe struck companions were pulled around this macabre scene, gasping in shocked recognition as they took in every detail of the fate that awaited them. And then pulled onwards, away from the vivid depiction of their demise and thrust through another portal.
They came to, with a sudden lurch, standing in the inn back in icy vale. They looked at each other with awe-struck eyes…oblivious to the blatherings of the inn-keep, who was asking in shocked tones how comes they lived…they had been deemed dead having left hours ago to fight the dragon. Each of the four slumped into their chairs and looked at each other, eyes brimming with questions. What were they to do now…
((to be continued...again way too long, about two or three more chapters to come and this thread will finally be finished and done with - Ive fallen a bit behind with where we're at IG but dang I waffle on a lot! *grins* hope the patient one's amongst you are enjoying anyway!)) |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: The testing of the four
Posted: 05 May 2004 07:57 AM |
((very nice recounting of the adventures of the 4 musketeers )) |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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Re: The testing of the four
Posted: 05 May 2004 08:25 AM |
((*applauds*
Extremely well written, and also very delicately so. A true pleasure to read. =).
-Barnas)) |
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Re: The testing of the four
Posted: 05 May 2004 09:58 AM |
(( *most most enjoyable* I do enjoy Muga's adventures*
- Paul )) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
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<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Re: The testing of the four (the conclusion)
Posted: 10 May 2004 02:24 PM |
Soapie looked up at her companions, her bemused expression an accurate reflection of the looks on all their faces. “Did I over do tha 'alflin courage'?” she enquired of her companions, looking around at the familiar locale of the icy vale inn.
“Was that a dream?” asked Pyrrha, sounding equally disoriented and confused.
“I 'ad yer fer dead!” the innkeeper interjected, a stunned look upon his face "ya bin gone for hours! Then ya come back…good as new...I’z ne'er seen tha' before...was sure the dragon ‘ad ya all fur a snak” the amazed expression on the man’s face was all the evidence needed of his veracity.
“Gah. Dis iz urtin me ‘ead” Muga stated, with a truly pained look in her eyes “wot da ‘ell 'appened to uz?” she fixed the innkeeper with a baleful glare, as though fully convinced wrenching his head from his shoulders would somehow make everything make sense once more. Or at the very least, make her feel better.
“I think we saw the future, like he said we would. But I refuse to believe that will be our fate” Ilyana spoke with determination, her initial confusion once more giving way to fiery determination.
“IT was just an image sent by that icy bitch to scare us off” Pyrrha agreed, her voice no longer as shaken or unsure.
“We must go back and defeat it. We will succeed” Ilyana looked each of her companions in the eye, and saw renewed fire burning bright in each and every one of them.
“If datz wot me lord sez datz wot me doez. Itz dat simpahl.” Muga looked relieved not to have to think further than the need to hit something…she was back in familiar territory once again.
“That mus' be tha 'fear' part, eh?” Soapie pondered aloud, looking somewhat relieved her famous tolerance for spirits had not, after all, deserted her.
“Shall we leave once again?” Ilyana spoke, her eyes alight with the joy of impending battle.
“Alroight, we tryz agin den. An’ if we seez dat oomie wizzaard...we smash im in da face gud befurz ‘e trix us agin.” And so saying Muga strode from the inn, her companions following swiftly after.
The journey to the cavern mouth that denoted the dragon’s lair transpired exactly as before. Orcs charged into battle with the four…and orcs died swiftly, their blood turning the snow crimson in the group’s wake. The orcs served one purpose alone, they caused the fire that flowed through each of the four to begin to surge. Nothing but an appetizer to the victory that would surely soon be theirs. For had not Naruth proved her power over Helkris time and again. And now the mighty dragon, Brimscale himself, awaited them to prove their worth. Nothing would stand against them and survive. Surely not. And so they came once again to the cave mouth. And once again they caused the air to burn with arcane energy. A multitude of mystical words were spoken aloud, prayers to Naruth and incantations from scrolls, interspersed by the regular deep belches and other such bodily emanations that were Muga’s contributions to the harnessing of magical power. Finally they once again stood ready, each of them shrouded beneath so many protections that they could barely see the features of their companions. But they had shed so much blood together, the bond between them grown so strong that each knew that all shared the same feelings. A tinge of fear buried beneath a burning furnace of hatred for the creature they sought to slay.
“C’mon” this simple word from Soapie was all that was needed, she led the way never doubting her companions would follow.
And again there stood the man who had met them before. Yet this time there was no corridor of light. The man’s features could still not be made out…but that it was the same mage there could be no doubt. Muga moved to flank him as Ilyana began to speak…
“You lied. That was not our future” Ilyana stated this with certainty, conviction ringing clear in every word.
“I lied?” the man, if such he was, replied. He remained seemingly oblivious to Muga’s imposing presence, stood behind him hefting her huge flaming great-sword and eyeing his neck with a gleam of hatred in her eyes. This man had hurt her head with his tricks, she wanted to cleave him in twain and then feast on his heart.
“Me bash ‘im nowz? Puh...leaze?” the orc appealed to her companions.
The scowl that crossed her face at Ilyana’s almost imperceptible shake of her head would have caused many to flee outright. Yet it was Ilyana that won that contest of wills, the orc warrior bowing her head in submission to the priestess.
“You are a servant of the ugly sister, the ice bitch.” Pyrrha spoke to the man with contempt.
“That is the future at the time of the seeing. What changes is in your hands.” The man replied, ignoring Pyrrha’s insult.
“Well we intend a different fate.” Ilyana spoke, and her companions nodded their agreement.
“And how will you achieve that?” the man enquired, his voice suggesting a smile none could see upon his face.
“Me lord sez kill da draggie. Me kill it. Itz dat simpahl.” Muga stated her case with enthusiasm for the task ahead.
“We will conquer through our faith” Pyrrha agreed.
“Yes, through faith in our Goddess and in Lord Flaarghain” Ilyana concluded.
“Then the choice is chosen” the man stated, amusement still ringing in his voice “the choice is made, made by she who knows not what she is choosing. Farewell.” And so saying he disappeared.
The four looked to each other, and saw the same mix of resolution, excitement and a certain amount of trepidation. This was the moment they had all sought. And as one, they took the first step deeper into the cavern. Soon they were passing scattered carcasses, bones and other such detritus that obviously comprised the remains of other’s who had sought to slay the ice wyrm. And then they turned the corner…there it stood, magnificent in its full horrific splendor. A creature more worthy of fear than any they had ever confronted. For this was no ordinary wyrm…the secret they had been told was true, never had they faced an adversary of this magnitude. Not a one amongst them did not feel the pangs of dread and terror the beast exuded, but as they quaffed their potions and made those final preparations they could, not a one sought to turn and flee. On any other day perhaps, but not this day, not to turn from their goal, their destiny.
Ilyana led the way, surprising even Soapie and Muga with her ferocity. She swiftly circled the beast, drawing its initial ire…knowing that the time she bought Muga could be all important. And the wyrm turned to face her, its attention upon the flaming longsword she wielded. It stood, perfectly still, as Ilyana released her battle cry and lunged forward, her sword striking unerringly for the creatures legs, seeking to cripple it. The disbelief was clear in her eyes as the sword bounced off without any effect, nearly torn from her grasp by the shock of the repercussion.
But she had achieved her goal…Muga was there, moving faster than any being should ever be able to when clad in full plate and wielding such a gargantuan blade. Already missiles were flying in thick and fast from Soapie and Pyrrha, and then Muga launched an attack. And again. And once more. Huge blows, with all the strength and power she could muster, her hatred and her magic fuelling her rage to an extent where surely any foe must crumble into dust when struck so. And yes, the dragon flinched. It was hurt! But then…then it laughed. The grievous wounds the orc had expected were not there. Minor scratches maybe…a few thousand more blows and the dragon might be genuinely hurt.
Before realisation had even sunk in, the wyrm lazily swept its claws through the air, the first blow cleaved through Ilyana’s armour like it was paper, spearing her though the midriff. Gouts of blood burst from the priestess’ mouth and she was thrown aside, where she collapsed to the ground, the light dying from her eyes as she looked on in disbelief. The wyrm turned, its huge bulk proving no obstacle to its maneuverability, and now it faced Muga.
The orc bellowed her rage, a cry that had struck terror into countless foes, raining blows in again and again. Surely this was simply a magical protection that must fade under the ferocity of her attack. The creature did not even seek to avoid or turn aside her blows, its overconfidence would be its undoing. Or such she hoped.
With sedate ease the dragon proceeded to flick a long taloned claw at the orc warrior, each claw easily the length of the sword Muga herself wielded. A slash of red appeared across Muga’s chest, rending her armour apart; another blow swiftly followed, and a claw raked across her thigh, nearly severing the exposed tendon; a third bright, scarlet line slashed across her scalp. The combatants danced apart, Muga now staggering, then they clashed again. Muga laying all her attacks into the creatures skull whenever it came within range…perhaps she could blind it or decapitate it. But already she was near blind herself, the blood from her head wound flowing freely, turning her growling visage into a nightmarish mask of crimson fury and futile determination.
All the while Soapie and Pyrrha used everything they had at their disposal. Magics bounced from it ineffectually. Missiles made no impact. And so they drew closer, knowing to melee it was certain death, but knowing also that they must succeed. They could live with nothing bar victory. And then Muga fell…nothing but a quiet, resigned exhalation of air and fire marked her passing. There could be no doubt, she was slain, no life could remain in a form so devastated…
And the dragon…well, it was hardly touched. With casual ease it sliced Pyrrha into two separate parts…the priestess’ hands raised before her to somehow preserve her beauty served as no protection against the rending claws. Nor did her fervent prayers to Naruth.
“Oh eff…” was all that Soapie had time for, as the dragon closed the gap on the diminutive form of the last of the quartet.
And then all was quiet in the cavern once more, the heated frenzied battle of moments ago leaving no more evidence than some freshly steaming bodies. The draconic figure had little need for sustenance…but it was a dragon after all. And so it surveyed the fallen, and chose the one of the greatest beauty, for despoiling such a physically flawless follower of Naruth brought joy to its frozen cold heart.
And so Pyrrha was consumed, her skin flayed expertly from her body by the razor sharp claws. The skull left intact until last, a delicacy that was savored as it reflected upon the battle and the folly of the four mortals that had provided its current feast.
“How very tedious.” The dragon spoke in a slow, humorless tone as it picked the last bit of Pyrrha’s skull from its teeth.
It was entirely sincere in this estimation of what had transpired. As one of Helkris’ most mighty creatures, its nature was akin to the ice and frozen wastes. Slow, deliberate and lethargic, it had long since lost interest in such petty conflict. The orcs provided it with sacrifices, and those few foolish enough to venture into its lair met a swift demise…usually through its magic or its powerful icy breath. But to actually have to engage in melee, and with creatures of flame at that. Well, how very tedious indeed. But Helkris would be pleased…once again the ice had proven its power over those foolish followers of Naruth. It would finish this feast later. If for no other reason than to ensure none would sneak in and try to retrieve the bodies. Couldn't allow Naruthians any chance at escape, that wouldn’t do at all. But some rest, a little reverie first. Such activity was most disconcerting, a rest was indeed called for.
And so it was that when Ilyana moved…murmured and then fought back a scream from the agonising pain to which she awoke…the dragon was not there to notice. Hours had passed, and the ice wyrm was beginning to stir from its lethargy and contemplate returning to its feast. But Ilyana was alone, alone and somehow alive. She painfully assessed her wounds, life threatening certainly, but for now she lived. She called forth minor healing magic, all she could manage in her exhausted state. And breathed in relief as the magic took hold, the worst of the pain faded and she could once more breathe without feeling the need to cough blood. Taking a deeper breath, she focussed her mind and soul and offered a more powerful prayer to Naruth. This time the soothing warmth swept through her, setting her nerves alight with exquisite pleasure…and her wounds closed. She was once more whole. As she staggered to her feet she realised that maybe whole would be overstating the case…she would live but she was still a long way from full health.
Another prayer, she called to mind the sacrifice of a bull she had made as an acolyte, and felt once more the creature’s strength flow into her. And now she had the strength to look around. The scene was exactly as in the ‘dream’, all had fallen in exactly the same place. And there was Pyrrha’s form, already devoured. The others, they looked intact…if only she had the power to call their spirits back to their bodies. But she knew in her current state, such a prayer would be beyond her.
But what was that? There, on the ground, a large bone. Her vision was blurred, but yes…it was definitely a bone. Could she be that fortunate…had Naruth avenged her fallen priestesses. Surely so…her faith had been rewarded. But then her spirits fell…she could hear something moving…something massive, with the familiar scrape of talons over ice covered stone. Nonetheless she reached down and grabbed hold of the bone. It was only a leg bone she needed, mayhaps this would suffice. Casting a last glance at her fallen companions, she fled the approaching dragon, the massive bone firmly cradled in her arms.
She made it to the exit. Maybe the wizard would be there. There must be a way to undo what was done. But no, there was no sign of him. She examined the bone she carried, less hurriedly. No, this was no draconic limb. Rather it was the leg bone of one of the huge shambling tundra beasts. She looked longingly to the exit. But she knew, deep within her she knew, that if she left now her life as a priestess of Naruth would be over. She would have acknowledged the superiority of Helkris. She would rather die, she felt that knowledge sweep through her as truth…she would prefer death alongside her companions than to live with that truth. And so, with a slow, heavy step she returned to where her companions had fallen. Just in time to see the ice wyrm once again enter the chamber. And there could be no doubt, it was shocked to see her, standing there resolute and determined…if tiny and powerless against its proven might.
“You will not defeat me. My lady protects us” Ilyana answered the questioning gaze of the dragon with these bold words.
“Wha..Wher…?” the dragon broke off, laughing in shocked incredulity.
“We will be victorious. Again and again we will come at ye.” Ilyana persisted, determined that if she were to die it would be with Naruth’s name on her lips, and fury in her veins.
“Quite the spirited one aren’t you…” the dragon spoke, with a bored yawn.
“Our fire burns eternal” Ilyana stated, reciting now from the basic tenets of her faith.
“Oh does it?” the incredulity obvious in its tone “I think I'll test that” and so saying it began to incant one of the most powerful enchantments ever spoken.
“The fires of Naruth will not be extinguished, I believe in my Lady, she will protect me” Ilyana stood firm, not moving to attack but neither seeking to avoid the spell despite the power she could feel gathering all about her.
Then the magic was completed and she fell to the ground, screaming over and over again in horrendous agony. Her entire body felt as though it were being pierced repeatedly by a thousand sharpened icicles…no living being could endure such pain and survive…yet she did. Somehow her frail and weakened body resisted the overwhelming suffering and her screams faded to whimpers, and then into silence.
“How strange...” the dragon mused as Ilyana shakily regained her feet “If that had worked, you would not even have been able to cry out.”
“Leave. Your victory is not to be found here.” the dragon sounded bored now, tired of this unwelcome intrusion.
And yet Ilyana stood firm again. And with determination in her voice she started to try and proceed to talk the dragon into parting with one of its legs. Her promises that it was the only way it would ever again know peace were met with a wary snort. The argument continued on, the dragon growing more and more irritated by this fiery presence in its previously peaceful cave. Ripping Muga’s leg off and throwing it at Ilyana seemed only to fuel the priestess’s determination to stay until she had what she sought. The dragon slumped to the ground, looking resignedly at the priestess as she continued to rant against it.
Then the ultimate blasphemy, Ilyana began to pray to Naruth. Her prayers of fire and fury rang through the cavern, echoing over and over, paining the wyrm’s ears with their repetitions. This was too much for the wyrm…
“Leave before I have to walk -all- the way over there and kill you.” the dragon spoke with more anger in its voice than it had felt in centuries.
Ilyana continued unabated, her spoken prayers rang out loud as she taunted the dragon with the strength of her faith. Finally, its anger grew too much, and it pounced. A single swipe of its claws and Ilyana was airborne, the dragons rage had fuelled it into striking with all its power and the priestess’s flight lasted the full length of the cavern, where her broken form slumped out of sight. Grateful for some peace at last, the dragon swiftly consumed the bodies of the others, determined that no more would rise to once again torment it with their heretic words.
When the remains of its victims were destroyed beyond all hope of recovery, the dragon contemplated traversing the length of the cave to devour the corpse of the mortal that had annoyed it so. But instead it stalked to its lair. After all, it would have required so much energy for such a little return…and somewhere deep inside the dragon feared that the priestess’s flesh remained impervious. Better not to have to deal with that just yet. And so it left Ilyana to die from the cold, a deep pervasive cold that would surely overcome her inner flames.
Several hours passed, and Ilyana once again regained consciousness. With a groan she staggered once more to her feet. No healing magics remained to her, so she drank a potion and gasped in relief as it worked its magic. Then, resigned determination evident throughout her entire body, she moved back to where the four of them had fallen. With a grim look she took in what little remained of her companions…she was trained in the art of breathing the fire of life back into mortal remains…but she knew such was impossible now. They were gone…her companions through so much were gone beyond all recovery. There was no sign of the dragon in this part of the cavern, but she knew she must seek it out soon. But first she allowed herself a sigh of regret at all that had come to pass. So absorbed was she in the scene before her, she never saw the arrival of the human wizard that had promised this outcome. Only when he walked into her field of vision did she notice him, glowering at this most unwelcome intrusion on her grief.
“The choice for the choosing was chosen by she who did not know the choice she made.” The man’s tone almost spoke of sympathy, a resigned acceptance at the very least.
“Speak plainly!” Ilyana demanded, her patience exhausted.
“Now she who chose is dead, and she who followed lives.” The man continued oblivious to the priestess’s rising ire.
“Your choice meant that they died. Now, time is all that will remember them.”
“It is not -my- fault” Ilyana’s fury, never deeply hidden, rose fully to the surface.
“No, the half-orc chose.” The wizard agreed.
“You have power over time, reverse it.” Ilyana demanded, allowing hope to surface once again.
“There is the option of the choosing which you had to choose to avoid the viewing which you viewed…” the wizard spoke with slow deliberation, as though carefully choosing his words.
“We can choose to go back?” Ilyana queried, trying to make sense of what she was being told.
“...But why should he who controls the fate of your friends be compelled to act by she who wishes this fate to end?” the mage continued, ignoring the interruption.
“Can we go back...all of us?” she demanded again.
“If he is choosing to let them go back, they can go back…if he is choosing to let her go forward, she can go forward…now is the choice of the choosing which you must choose.”
Ilyana looked in bafflement at the mage. She wondered to herself why those of the greatest intellect always seemed to make things so complicated. And then it all became clear…
“Do you wish to go forward, and seize the bone from the end of time? Or do you wish to go back, and save your friends from the fate that awaits them in the end? Choose now! But your choice will be binding.” the man spoke with relieved finality.
As Ilyana realised the choice that lay ahead, and looked in horror at her fallen companions that she knew she must forsake, the mage sighed and continued to mutter to himself…
“I was never good at speaking in rhyme…it was the first thing they taught me!” the peculiar man seemed absorbed in his own dilemna, oblivious to the soul searching he had caused in the priestess.
“I serve Naruth first and foremost, I will go forward.” Ilyana spoke with barely concealed anger.
“Ah! Forward she goes! Onward, onward, onward!” the man exclaimed.
Ilyana found herself once again in a void, she felt her very being stretched and somehow torn. She shattered, her essence unravelling into a million pieces. If the journey before had stretched the bounds of her mind, this destroyed it utterly. She was a speck, a multitude of specks afloat in the oceans of time, she witnessed the beginning of all and the end of all, and her soul cried out in torment at knowledge she could never hope to retain. She saw gods born and fade, her own beloved lady amongst them; time passed, creation passing inevitably into destruction, all things came into existence…and all things would one day cease to exist. And it was with this knowledge that she felt her scattered being slowly reassembled. She stood at the end of days. She could see all that had ever been, and it was all in the past. She could see across millions of miles, across aeons of time, yet she could not see her own hand afore her face. Yet there, somehow before her, lay the leg bone she sought.
Perplexed she tried to reach for it with her hand, but could not. Then realisation sparked, and she reached for it with her mind. And with wonderment felt the bone come into her possession. Aged and cracked…but it was hers! And then, a gateway appeared, comprised of beautiful, burning light in this abyss of space and time. Her mind propelled her through it, where her legs could not. There was a crackle of flames…and once more she had a body and a sense of self.
She opened her eyes, to be confronted by the slightly concerned gazes of all three of her closest companions. She was once more in the icy vale inn…and all were alive and well. Her body screamed out for rest, her half healed wounds finally took their toll upon the fiery priestess, and she slumped into a chair with an exhausted sigh. Her companions sat down at the same table, ignoring her show of weakness they began to discuss their plans for the upcoming battle. For they all knew it would be the fight of their lives. Muga began to distribute scrolls to Soapie…
“How did you get here?” Ilyana interrupted the battle preparations with her perplexed question.
“Well the same way as you” Pyrrha replied, seeming a little concerned.
“Did he bring you back, that funny man?” Ilyana demanded, sitting up straight and looking in confusion to the others.
“Ya wot?” Muga summed up the perplexed expression of all around the table.
“You…you were all dead.” Ilyana searched for an explanation.
“Ilyana have you been drinking something?” asked Pyrrha, sensing unusual weakness in her fellow priestess.
“Uhh...yuz alroight priesty?” asked Muga, also sounding concerned. “Yuz get bashed on da ‘ead?”
“No!” replied Ilyana, sounding fierce as her need to explain overcame her fatigue “the dragon killed you, then ate you. I saw it!”
“We 'aven't even been ta 'er cave yet! We jus' got 'ere.” Soapie explained, in the hesitant tones of one talking to the mentally deranged.
“Yuz not giz in to da fear, remembah priesty. Itz gunna be alroight” Muga said consolingly.
“Yes. Trust in the Lady and the Lord and we will be victorious” Pyrrha agreed.
“But we are victorious already” Ilyana spoke with delight brimming in her voice, and she lifted forth the huge bone from the floor where she had let it drop, waving it before their bemused eyes.
“Where did you get that?” demanded Pyrrha, perplexed.
“I went to the end of time.” Ilyana stated, settling back as she realised the amount of explanation that was going to be required.
“Ya wot?” asked Muga, not for the first time in her life.
“Hmm, Im really worrying about you Milady” Pyrrha reiterated, the fire dancing in her eyes suggesting that such weakness would only be tolerated so long.
Meanwhile a grin of shared understanding spread first across Soapie’s face and then Muga’s, and both spoke, nearly in unison.
“That wyrm's a smooth one, I can tell. Nice idea, but 'e ain't goin' ta fall fer it.” Soapie opined, a smirk crossing her face.
“Yuz tinkz we can fool da draggie wiv dat bone?” asked Muga.
“It is the one we seek” Ilyana met each of their gazes with quiet determination “trust in me, trust in Naruth, it is the bone!”
Seeing that her pleas were falling on deaf ears, the exhausted priestess once more stood. Slowly, with a pained expression she stripped her plate armour off, standing nearly naked in the center of the inn, oblivious to the appreciative murmurings of the barkeep.
“Shez guun mad!” exclaimed Muga.
“Compleat basket case...” snickered Soapie.
But then all fell silent as they saw her gesture to the gaping wounds all over her body.
“No wulf did dat to yuz” stated Muga, obviously shocked.
“It was the dragon, I barely survived” replied Ilyana, deciding the complexities of all that had transpired could await another time.
“Dey lukz loik cutz from big talonz alroight” Muga stated after a careful examination “datz very clevah priesty...da draggie moight just believe dat.”
“'Ow'd yer do that ta yerself?” demanded Soapie, her naturally suspicious mind trying to make sense of what her eyes showed her.
It took several more minutes, and a great deal of confusion…and head clutching on the part of Muga, but eventually all had little choice but to believe Ilyana’s outrageous tale of time traveling wizards and powerful, undefeatable dragons. Eventually all agreed that the worst that could happen would be Ilyana getting eaten for attempting a quite brilliant act of deception, and so they returned to Brimscale’s envoy.
All stood well apart from Ilyana as she handed the bone to the dragon, not wanting to be associated with her if the ploy failed. And all gasped in shock as the priestess produced the bone with a flourish, and laid it before the wyrm, to be met with a nod of recognition.
“Your faith was true until the end of time. And it shall always be so. You have passed the test. Lord Brimscale will seek you out when he is ready for you” and in a powerful buffet of wings the dragon launched into the sky, letting out a triumphant roar, the bone firmly grasped in its talons.
Ilyana savoured the moment of victory the most, meeting the awed gaze of her friends with a triumphant grin and a flick of her flame red hair. And she led them through the now open gates….
((ok, who read this far!? dang that was too long, and has taken me several hours to write. Hope those who're still bothering to read this novel are enjoying it! Sorry, not edited and cut this anywhere near as much as I should, but enough already! :0) )) |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: The testing of the four (the conclusion)
Posted: 10 May 2004 03:54 PM |
I'm loving it .. thank you
-Ken |
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Re: The testing of the four (the conclusion)
Posted: 10 May 2004 04:09 PM |
| ((Wow kudos on typing this all up Sean!! And thanks for telling what happened in the 'future')) |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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Re: The testing of the four (the conclusion)
Posted: 10 May 2004 04:14 PM |
Splendidly written! Truely excellant!
-Barnas |
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Re: The testing of the four (the conclusion)
Posted: 10 May 2004 04:35 PM |
| ((What? is that all? Write some more please!)) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
--
<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Muga's coming of age (the end!!!)
Posted: 19 May 2004 11:58 AM |
It was hot, some would say unbearably so. The sun sent forth its unchecked fury, cracking the very earth with its power. All that were susceptible to its heat had long since sought shelter…for these were the desert lands, and midday was no time to be abroad for most. As such, the two figures clad in full plate mail were a somewhat incongruous sight. They ran up and down the sandy dunes, no sweat gleamed upon their foreheads, no sign was evinced that they even felt the heat, beyond maybe the smile of satisfaction upon their faces. The red glow of the metal they wore, a heat that would have resulted in severe burns for most, seemed only to soothe and relax them.
And thus Ilyana and Muga came to the nomad’s tent. They were late for their meeting with Pyrrha and Soapie. And so with a last regretful look to the heat they left behind, they strode into the cooler darkness of the tent. Greetings were swiftly exchanged, and preparations made. Once again they were determined to seek Brimscale….they had proven their worth, yet had heard no word. They grew tired of waiting…the fire that burned within each and every one of them was not inclined to patience and inactivity. And so they would search once more.
Muga took up a stance towards the back of the tent, watchful and alert, eager to be off. All gave her a wide berth, and she seemed happiest this way. She stood in silence, lost in thoughts of her lord…certain she would soon stand once more in his presence.
Pyrrha and Ilyana knelt together, and prayed to Naruth for her blessings. They could feel her power flow strong here…these lands had once been Vilyave’s but no longer, except maybe in the higher reaches…now Naruth’s power was in ascendance across the plains and steppes. And so the priestesses became oblivious to their surroundings, swept away in the ecstasy of communing with their lady.
Soapie was equally absorbed in eyeing the harem of the nomad lord, smirking to herself as she compared their paltry beauty with her own magnificent scales. She truly was becoming a fine specimen…and she wandered freely around the tent…eyeing the belongings of the lord who had granted them hospitality. It would be rude to acquire any of his belongings…unless of course something truly irresistible caught her eye.
And so, it was only when Ilyana finished her prayers and with a sigh stood…that she noticed one of their number was no longer present.
“Muga?” she enquired, looking around with a perplexed expression on her face “Where has she gone?”
The others slowly ceased their own introspection, in growing bemusement as to where the hulking figure of Muga had disappeared to. A number of suggestions were made, and swiftly discarded as implausible. And soon all came to the same conclusion, they had absolutely no idea where Muga was.
For that matter, Muga wasn’t entirely sure herself. She had been standing there, minding her own business, absently munching on one of the few fleas still hardy enough to survive living about her person. And then, then she was elsewhere. A rather austere room…built of pale marble that gave off an unearthly gleam. And there was something else…a smell that made her blood boil in exultation, her chest began to rise and fall ever more swiftly, and she uttered a small moan as though she was in the grips of a passion unlike any she had known. Slowly she turned, and there he stood…
But what was this? Some small, innocuous looking human? And yet…yes, the smell of her lord, there could be no mistake.
“Lord…Lord Flaarghain, is dat yuz? It smellz loik yuz, but it not lukz loik yuz.” the confusion she felt was obvious in her tone.
“Yes it is I. Come, come daughter. If I am a dragon, and can assume the form of any man, why should I always look the same?” the dry amusement in his voice was all too familiar.
Muga no longer had any doubts. A grin spread, slowly at first but soon shining bright from her face. He was here, he was really here! There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask. How? Why? What was to come? Was he really her fa…so many questions whirled in her mind.
“Mez sorry mez late…der woz a stoopid oomie who not tellz me yur mezzahge” Muga spoke without thinking, saying the first thing to occur to her, as was so oft her way.
“Yes, Muga, I know all about it. You don’t think I would let a fool like that deceive me do you? It was all part of your test…you would find him when you were ready, and now you have done so” satisfaction rang through his voice.
“Duh. Mez stoopid. Mez shud ‘ave known dat stoopid oomie cudn’t fuul yuz.” Muga slapped her meaty fist into her head in disbelief at her own folly.
But then realisation sank in. Her lord sounded pleased! That was all Muga needed to know, all she cared about. Here was her lord, her father, the first being to ever show her kindness. To make her come to understand all she could be. It had been a long path from the wild thing he had found so long ago through to the trained warrior she now was…and there was so much more to learn. And her lord would teach her everything she needed…her confidence, her faith and her loyalty were his, she was his…utterly and completely. And so she stood, her questions forgotten, as she just breathed in his scent and listened to his words.
“Now Muga, I have another task for you, some more training if you will. For you and for your friends. You must work for your rewards. You are to go to the town near the icy wastes. Near unto there live two women, a wife and her fully grown daughter. They are not to see another dawn.” this last was spoken with utter finality.
Suddenly, abruptly, her lord was gone and she was back in the tent, faced with three very familiar and very confused faces. Muga looked around, a little dazed and confused at first, but then her smile broke forth once more, beaming at her companions with a happiness beyond anything they had ever seen her exhibit before.
“Where did you go?” demanded Pyrrha.
“Where were you?” reiterated Ilyana, sounding a little angered.
“Oh, 'allo Muga” said Soapie, in a deliberately nonchalant tone, with a wry smile upon her lips.
“Mez seen im...mez seen im!” gasped Muga, her excitement clear to all.
Then she noted the faces of the others in the tent, the nomad and his harem. Glowering, she motioned to her companions to follow her outside. When they were all seated, basking in the afternoon sun, Muga began to speak once more.
“Me tellz yuz wot ‘appenz...mez not getz to sez to ‘im all me wantz tuz, me woz in sum funny place, but it woz ‘im...me knowz dat smell anywherez.”
“And what did he say?” demanded Pyrrha, impatient with Muga’s rambling speech.
“He sez wez ta getz sum trainin, den we getz rewardz. Wez all getz da rewardz me tinks…” Muga broke off, seeing a look of confusion come over Soapie’s face as she nearly toppled backwards, seemingly overcome by the weight of her pack.
The reason swiftly became apparent, as she opened her pack to reveal a perfectly proportioned suit of red armour. In no time she had stripped off and donned the new armour, to the murmured appreciation of her companions. It was a perfect fit, and she seemed enraptured by it, twisting each and every way to see it gleam in the sunlight. Eventually, now suitably attired and with a very happy smile on her face, Soapie turned once more to Muga and asked her to continue.
“He sez we pass da test...now fur da trainin.” Muga picked up where she had left off “wez gotz to go killz sumun. Dey not ta seez da sun cum up agin. So we goez fast...an we goez now.”
Muga looked ready to stride off there and then, eager to show her lord how swiftly his orders would be obeyed. But she recognised her companions would need a little more information, and so curtailed her enthusiasm to answer their questions.
“Who must we kill? And where are they?” demanded Ilyana, the others demanding the same information in unison.
“Dey livez near da oicy place” replied Muga, scratching her head and trying to remember the exact words her lord had used “he sez...woife an daughta must bof die…da daughta iz a womahn…not a choild. Dat woz everyfink he sez, me sure.”
“Ah... again there?” Pyrrha said with a displeased grimace “there are lots of idiots living there…”
“How will we know them?” Ilyana concluded her sister priestesses thoughts.
“Me not knowz more dan dat” replied Muga “so we go killz all da womahn we canz foind near der me guess” she concluded.
All four laughed at this solution that Muga proposed, and without any further delay they set out. Nothing barred their passage, not for any length of time anyway. It was a long run from the desert to the icy wastes, but none balked at the necessity. They stopped at the great plains camp fire only long enough for the priestesses to stare into the flames and pray to their mistress, whilst those who were still susceptible to the cold changed into warmer garb. And so the four eventually came to the town of Icy Vale, a town full of madmen who would seemingly choose to live in such a Naruth-forsaken wasteland. Shaking their heads in disgust, they huddled together to decide how to begin.
“So where shall we look first?” Ilyana whispered, aware of the guardsman that patrolled back and forth.
“'oo'd we 'ave ta off again?” enquired Soapie.
“A woife an 'er daughta” repeated Muga.
“There is a new place open nearby, it's a sort of inn” stated Pyrrha, gesturing to a newly erected building.
With a shrug the four decided to begin their hunt. They entered the inn and split up, each eager to be the first to find any woman walking its halls, and spill their blood. It didn’t really matter if it was the right victim after all…anyone who chose to live in such a place deserved to die. Eventually they met back at the entrance, disappointed not to have found a single living person.
“Well was it here in the Vale, or just near here that they live, Muga?” Pyrrha demanded in a somewhat exasperated tone, obviously disappointed at this delay in finding any victim for the caresses of her knife.
“Me tinkz he sez near, mez not sure” replied Muga, after a considerable pause and bout of head scratching.
“It could be the farmlands...” mused Pyrrha.
“Or further into the icy wastes” Ilyana spoke in a tone of dread.
“Mmhm-m, there's a little 'ut out there.... though it was abandoned last time I checked. Which was a lon' while ago.” Soapie’s words elicited a groan from her companions…surely they must not go to such a truly horrid place.
“Well let us try the farmlands first” Ilyana spoke the desires of all four.
And so they set off again, Muga leading the way, least bothered by the growing darkness all around. Her footsteps sizzled in the snow…until they had left the cold lands behind…entering the slightly more fertile lower lands. They ran from farmstead to farmstead…none were overly familiar with this area, and each determined to be thorough in the hope that what they sought was here, and not further into the icy depths of Helkris’ domain.
And so it was that Muga came to the last of the farmsteads…her night vision picking out the warm blood of two humans doing the last of their daily chores. She walked closer…the clanking of her armour was concealed by the wind howling down from the vale, and the chatter of the two humans. Two human women…a promising start she grinned to herself. And frail looking specimens at that, she would not even need her companions for these two. Shame their hearts would not be worth feasting on…what in Naruth’s name could these two have done to anger her lord? With a shrug she listened to their words…
“It was such a lovely day, mother. Seems a shame it has to end…” the younger woman spoke, oblivious to the irony of her words.
“Tankz. Datz all mez needahd ta knowz” so saying, Muga strode out of the darkness and into the farmyard, and lopped the mothers head off with a single blow.
Muga grinned in delight at the horror on the daughter’s face as her mother’s blood fountained into the sky. With a swift economy of movement, Muga span on her heel, the impetus of the first blow carrying through into the daughter. With her prodigious strength now fully behind the blow there could be only one outcome. And indeed there they both lay, one corpse decapitated, the other cleaved fully in twain…a huge crimson stain seeping into the earth all around. Muga inhaled the scent of blood and terror…the daughter had been right, it was indeed a lovely day. The sound of Muga’s victorious battle roar had brought her companions running, and all gathered around the scene of carnage.
“She callz ‘er muvvah” Muga said, pointing first to the younger then to the older of the pair “so dey moight be da roight onez”.
Soapie grinned as she spotted a number of chickens running about, scared by the scent of blood in the air. She walked over to them, inhaled deeply and released a huge bout of flame in a continuous roaring stream…until each of the chickens lay dead. Then with a grin she picked up one of the less charred specimens and looked ready to begin her feast.
Meanwhile Ilyana moved towards the bodies, obviously planning to dispose of them and gesturing to Muga to help. All froze in this tableau when they heard Pyrrha speak…and saw her looking at a shadowy figure standing by the roadside on the approach to the farm, looking in horror at them all.
“Who is that?” Pyrrha sounded concerned…trying to make out the man’s face in the gloom.
“Wha… what have you done?” the man replied…along with an anguished cry of horror as full realisation set in.
“Why nothing” replied Pyrrha, with a devastatingly beautiful smile. “We saw these rabid animals attack them…”
Unfortunately Pyrrha’s attempts at subterfuge were doomed to failure…the man took in the sight of Soapie devouring a half cooked chicken; Ilyana in the process of pulling one half of one of the corpses across the ground; Muga standing there drenched in blood with a grin of absolute, uncaring guilt upon her face; the wounds themselves, clean and cauterized, obviously made by the huge flaming greatsword Muga wielded.
With a choking sob the man stepped forward, and Muga moved to meet him, her warrior instincts screaming at her that here was a much graver danger than appearances would suggest. He was small, thinly muscled, wearing dark simple garb. No visible arms or armour, no obvious threat, yet something was not right. Then he leapt to the attack, his speed and ferocity taking them all by surprise. He launched a blistering series of attacks, blades appearing and disappearing in his hands faster than any of their eyes could follow. Within the first few seconds of the assault Muga had been struck several times…blood freely flowing from wounds to her thigh, her neck and her prodigious midriff. Only her strong armour and instinctive leap back had saved any one of the wounds from incapacitating or killing her. But her swipe of her greatsword had nearly connected…had forced the assailant back and brought her some time.
And she knew what to do with that time…her well placed scrolls of protection were swiftly in hand and then in mouth. Chewed into a wad of pulp and swallowed, their energy released in a sequence of belches filled with arcane power. In the time it took for her most vital spells of protection to be in place…the man had turned and moved with blinding speed. Recognising Muga would not fall easily, he had turned his attention to the priests who sought to call forth Naruth’s fury into the battle.
In a blaze of blows he thwarted Pyrrha’s prayers…and then with seeming ease he stabbed a long knife through one ear and out the other. Pyrrha slumped to the ground…hardly aware of the searing pain before death claimed her.
“One!” the dark figure cried victoriously, seemingly enraged beyond any thought of escape, which his blinding speed would evidently allow.
By now Ilyana had some protections in place, and Soapie had discarded the chicken in favour of more appropriate weapons, and was in turn stalking the man, looking for the opportunity to strike. Muga charged him, screaming her rage. A single swipe of her greatsword and his head would be joining that of his wife, for such she surely was. And so Muga swung…and blinked in amazement as he ducked the blow, lanced another painful wound criss-crossing the one on her thigh, and leapt away. All before she had even brought her own weapon back to bear.
Cursing, she swiftly quaffed one of the healing draughts she carried at her belt, grunting in satisfaction as its warmth spread through her. Ilyana had observed the man’s blinding speed, and calling upon Naruth to focus her will, she opened fire with her potent crossbow. Bolt after bolt sped through the air…but always too late, too slow, just missing the intended target. And then the man was on her…his blows struck once, twice, three times and Ilyana staggered back, calling for help. Muga lumbered towards her, bellowing in rage, but by the time she arrived, Ilyana was on the ground, the light of her eyes dimming into perpetual darkness. And the man was gone, back into the shadows, marked only by his exultant cry…
“Two!”
Soapie, seeing the fate of the two priestesses, stuck to the shadows and remained close to Muga. They had always had the best understanding…that was how they worked…they danced together wreaking carnage while the priests acted in support. But not this time, this time there would be no support. Realising this Muga scrambled amongst the scrolls she kept to hand, and found the ones she was looking for.
When her eyes detected the blur of the man moving to attack again, she consumed the scroll, a grin crossing her face as she belched into his face and felt the power sweep through her. Suddenly she moved, and her movement was nearly as much of a blur as his own. Nearly, but not quite. But the surprise had worked…she lashed her sword through a dizzying sequence of blows, never fully connecting but nonetheless opening gaping wounds across the man’s body. He bled…that was all she needed to know…his blood fuelled her rage, and she chased. But he moved so fast…she could not match his speed in retreat, and he was soon far enough away to quaff his own healing draughts. Then he leapt to the attack again, his confidence replaced by a steely determination that could prove much more dangerous. Blows rained in, some bounced off her armour, some were absorbed by the rock hard skin she had enchanted herself with, but enough made it through to stagger her back again. And her magic waned, her speed slowed and her blows had little impact, a single streak of crimson across his right bicep all she managed before he danced away again.
Muga dug out another scroll, and held it ready. Consumed it as the man moved to attack once more, and so the dance continued on, he seeking to pierce her defenses, attack and move away…she looking for the one telling blow…the full connection that so few could stand against. Both drank their healing again and again, both sought that one telling opening that would end the battle. And then it came…the man danced into range, judging his attacks just as Muga’s latest magics were to expire. He rained his blows down upon her, then jumped away, using his speed to move back from the blow that would crush his skull. This blow was closer…he would need to use all his speed, and so he did, flinging himself away from Muga…ever away…straight onto the gleaming blade of Soapie. She needed no strength, no powerful blow…just her well placed blade angled upwards for his jugular as he speared himself at full pace upon it. Her victorious grin said it all as the man slumped to the ground, his lifeblood the only healing draught Soapie felt any need for.
“Gud blow soapz” Muga acknowledged, gratitude plain in her eyes “buggahrin 'ell who woz dat!?”
“Donno. Like a quickling. But bigger.” Soapie opined.
“He gotz bof da priestiez” Muga said, taking in the two new bodies upon the floor.
“Well tha's a downer.” Soapie said, her exertions making her a little terse.
“Yuz luk aftah dem...mez givin da uvvah bodiez to da trollz” Muga stated, determined that there would be nothing left of any of them to raise. Especially not the man who moved with the speed of lightning.
But as Muga began to move towards the bodies, the spilled blood about the farmyard took on an unholy glow. The entire area was lit with an eerie reddish tint, and two spectral forms materialised above the bodies of the slain mother and daughter. With an unearthly howl they swooped to attack…Muga had her sword drawn and batted them aside from her…the magic of her blade allowing her to make contact with their ethereal forms. But Soapie was for once less aware than normal, her prior victory had cost her a split second’s concentration. With a muffled shriek she collapsed to the ground as the ghostly beings savaged her very essence, seeming to drain all blood from her body.
No time remained to Muga to mourn, she stuffed yet another scroll into her mouth, ignoring the protestations from her gut at the amount of arcane energy she had consumed and leapt to the attack. Anything that could fell Soapie that swiftly was a true danger and must be dealt with as swiftly as possible. These ghosts fed on blood, were gorged and red with it, but therein lay their undoing. For with each blow Muga spilled a little of this blood, and in doing so fuelled her own blood rage. She could feel them trying to steal her strength, her fury, but they might as well have been trying to drink from an endless well…for fury is what she was, bloodlust incarnate. And so, when the fight concluded, it was Muga that stood as with a last hollow despairing shriek the ghosts of her victims were denied their revenge. And as the rage inside her cooled once more, she looked around. Now all lay dead.
“Buggahrin ‘ell” she repeated her earlier sentiment “now wotz me ment to doez?” she asked in a bewildered tone.
There was no god she could call on. Such was not her way. Naruth, Gruin, these were deities she could respect. But worship? There was only one being she could claim anything akin to worship for…
“Lord me needz yuz!” she screamed, all her hope and fury directed into that one cry. And she was answered…
An explosion of fire rent the quiet of the farmlands…a glow that would surely strike fear into the hardiest of Helkris’ minions lit the skyline of the icy wastes. And there he was, her beloved lord. She fell to her knees, overcome once more at being in his presence.
“Mez killz em lord. Me doez loik yuz sez. But dey getz me frienz.” Muga spoke in reverent tones.
The human figure of her lord looked around at the devastation all about…
“You weren't meant to kill -them-, Muga.” He said in amused tones, gesturing at her companions.
“Me not killz da priestiez” Muga chuckled at the thought “sum fast oomie and den sum ghostiez killz dem” she explained.
But Muga’s lord seemed to have little interest in her explanation. Instead he raised his hands over his head, spoke a simple entreaty to Naruth, and watched with a smile as once more fire erupted all about him, dancing through the night sky and then plunging into each one of Muga’s fallen comrades. And as the fire vanished, each of them stood, fully healed and once more brimming with life. And as they noted the new arrival, and Muga on her knees before him, they looked to each other, and then to Muga for answers.
“Yuz all diez...da oomie getz yuz an yuz…da ghostiez got yuz” Muga explained.
“Ahh…but it was you who slew them Muga.” The dragon in man’s form spoke “Their blood was on your hands, so to speak.”
“Why are you kneeling Muga?” Pyrrha demanded, obviously surprised to see Muga accept her chastisement from this unknown human.
“Dis iz me lord” Muga quickly explained “datz wot yuz doez fur ‘im”
“For I did not mention the husband of the wife, nor did you think to ask...and that is your lesson. To think.” So saying the man turned and looked to each of the four…
“Muga and thinking...” Pyrhha muttered ruefully.
“The lesson for all of you is that fury misdirected is suicide in a holy package” stated the man, in a tone that brooked no argument. “I said they should not see another dawn. Thus, you should have killed them in their sleep.”
“Muga, I give you two gifts, my dearest daughter. Today you all aided her train. Soon, you shall all be needed to aid –me-.” So saying, huge wings of pure flame burst from his back, and he rose aloft into the sky, his eyes burning orbs that transfixed Muga with their gaze. Then he was gone…
“Well that was a flashy exit.” Stated Soapie in her more usual sardonic tone…but she broke off in surprise as Muga collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony.
As all eyes turned to the form of the fallen orc warrior a huge burst of flame encapsulated her, and when it faded away Muga’s armour lay scattered all about her. Muga herself lay naked, groaning in pain, as flames continued to lick all about her form. But it was not this that attracted the gasps of all…
“Muga…” Ilyana spoke in shock “you have...wings!”
And it was true…there, sprouting from her back, were a pair of wings covered in flame red scales. The skin where they were attached to Muga’s body was blistering and tender, but the wings themselves were magnificent…fully formed and already flapping ever so gently back and forth in reaction to Muga’s every movement.
“Wot...aargh...wot da ‘ell!?” Muga began to speak…but then broke off as yet another transformation came over her.
Scales formed across her skin, seeming not to so much appear as to surface, as though always present underneath the skin. Her eyes burned flame red…looking into them was akin to watching flames dance across fuel…with the same inevitable explosion inevitably to follow.
“Ahhh...my lord…me unnerstand” the glee in Muga’s voice was unmistakable “I mean to say...I understand lord” Muga continued, seemingly speaking to herself.
“And I thank you. Oh yessss.... I understand all too well! And I will learn lord, I will learn” Muga’s speech, with its occasional sibilance, was drawing worried glances from all her companions.
“Muga, is…is that you?” Pyrrha enquired nervously.
“Yessss, it is I” replied Muga.
“You sound...different” Pyrrha continued, her normal perceptions of Muga undergoing a swift revaluation.
“Cor, I wish 'e gave me wings. I tell yer, I'm bloody well green wiv envy under my scales.” Soapie chimed in, staring at the wings and oblivious to all else.
“Your time will come soapsssss” Muga grinned down at Soapie with an expression of true pleasure.
“I was getting used to your, hmmm, accent” Pyrrha stated warily.
“Oh don’t worry priestesssss, Muga is still here. I am her, and she is me.” Muga spoke with an assurance never before heard from her.
“It would appear that not only the wings are the change.” Pyrrha agreed.
“Yessss…we are both needed if I am to serve my lord as he desires.” Muga stated this as simple fact.
“Both?” enquired Pyrrha “I am not sure I understand?”
“There are two of you in there?” asked Ilyana.
“No…there is my draconic side…and then there is the one you have always known as Muga. I will let her take over again soon, it is a struggle to make this brain think for long periods of time” so saying Muga rubbed her forehead as if slightly pained “but from time to time it shall be necessary. I thank you all...you have made me whole.”
“Whole? But you just said there were two of you” Pyrrha queried, confusion plain in her tone.
“Yessss, two halves that make a whole” Muga clutched her forehead again, and all watched as the scales faded back below the surface of her skin and her eyes resumed their usual piggish squint, the flames submerged back beneath the veneer of her gaze.
“This is too much for my understanding.” Pyrrha stated with a shake of her head.
“Ya wot oomie?” asked Muga.
“What? Why do you speak like that again?” Pyrrha looked as though it was her that was due to have the splitting headache next.
“Erm, she's Muga most of tha time... but sometimes she's goin' ta be like that dragon. I fink.” Soapie explained slowly.
“Muga, do you remember just now, speaking differently to us?” Ilyana demanded.
“Buggahrin 'ell...mez gotz wingz!” Muga said, distracted by the new discovery.
“Yus...der iz sumfink diffahrent insoide ov mez” Muga continued “mez feelz sumfink, me not knowz wot but me remembah dat sumfink woz diffahrent, mez seez tingz diffahrent.”
“Yes you talked...like us. Well with a slight hiss.” Pyrrha explained.
“Me tinkz mez alroight nowz.” Muga grinned “if me tryz real ard me tinkz me can call dat bak”.
And so saying Muga focussed solely on her new wings, grinning in delight at their sheer magnificence. And slowly, ignoring the pain, she made them flap further and further. It would be a long while, if ever, before they would lift her bulk from the ground, but she would try. She would exercise her new wings as much as she could…and on occasions she would exercise her other gift from her father…the gift of intellect. Muga could think for herself now…and the first challenge to face her new intellect was how she was going to get her armour back on! With a sigh she realised she would have to walk into Midor, naked as the day she was born, to get it modified. The humans would never leave her alone if they saw her full beauty unveiled…
((right, that’s the end of Muga’s tale, and this thread, from conception through to true adulthood. Of course the tale continues, but to coin a phrase, anything else is FOIG! Mainly cos I can’t keep up with writing it all down. So yep, that’s it, the end, finale, hope it was long enough for you Mr Walker! Seriously, hope its been an enjoyable read for some...its been great to write again. But you'll excuse me, I hope, if I pester some of the other 'red wearing maniacs' into taking over the tale telling for a while! :0) )) |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: Muga's coming of age (the end!!!)
Posted: 19 May 2004 01:09 PM |
| Great recounting of the tale Sean! Splendid*applauds loudly* |
Luther McIath: I see, so [X is] the right person in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
[Fictrix] ... And can speak French, like both! Wait, I mean Elven. |
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Re: Muga's coming of age (the end!!!)
Posted: 19 May 2004 01:28 PM |
The whole thing was great...I'll miss your writing Don't take a forever break, please!
Trishy |
Trishy
Macha Sparrowsong - Song is my life
Coretta Alandar - Cleric of Midoran
Dekla Debena - whatever
Not all people who wander are lost.
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Re: Muga's coming of age (the end!!!)
Posted: 19 May 2004 01:33 PM |
*applause*
Don't stop writing now, though! I'll get sad. *nods*
-Barnas |
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Re: Muga's coming of age (the end!!!)
Posted: 19 May 2004 10:41 PM |
<ooc>
Excellent! I cannot wait to talk to the newly improved, intellectual Muga.
Yes Sean, it was suitably long, and as a reward, i will resist the next temptation to ask your lovely swife to smack you around when you next deserve it.
:)
- Paul
PS: You will still need to write. Your audience demands it.
</ooc> |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
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<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Muga, an enjoyable diversion
Posted: 18 Oct 2004 06:19 AM |
Muga bathed. She luxuriated in the warmth, bliss causing her eyelids to droop, and a huge contented sigh to emerge. As the lava hissed and bubbled all around her and the smell of sulfur permeated every pore of her body, Muga lay back almost fully submerged, a smile slowly spreading as she recalled the events of the day. Her smile, if nothing else, would have been enough to give many nightmares that they would awaken from screaming. For it was a smile filled with such malice as few had ever seen and survived, a smile that fully revealed the huge tusk like teeth that she used to rend and tear her prey. The mephits that flew around Muga's bathing pools breathed searing flames in her direction every now and then, further soothing the tired orc as she fully relaxed. Her own scaled wings spread to their full width beneath her, they were all that kept the huge bulk of the orc warrioress afloat on the sea of lava. The scales that normally lay hidden beneath her skin were now prominent, as the scorching heat all around brought them forth. Life was good...
Indeed, the last three days had been most entertaining. A few days ago she had wandered the lands as she oft did when Ilyana had no need of her in the temple. Seeking out her favoured foes...the centaurs whose numbers she had single handedly decimated over the past few months. She refused to dwell on the reason for her hatred of those creatures. Hatti. That single word was all she would allow, and was the word she bellowed to the sky as she sought out every lord of the ursine halfbreeds she could find and feasted on their hearts. Truth to tell, their hearts held little power any more for one such as Muga. But still she hunted them, and would until there were no more. Hatti would not be forgotten, and this was Muga's own special homage to her.
When done feasting on horseflesh she turned her thoughts to other prey...dragons. The lords of dragonkind were well hidden, and Muga was not such a fool as to seek them out. No match for her father mayhaps, but still to be respected if not exactly feared. She knew where three laired; ice hidden behind illusions few knew the truth of; lightning, supremely confident in his power yet still keeping some of his brood nearby; the accursed silver, hidden in deep caves keeping an eye on whatever evil laired nearby. None of these would Muga face...not until her father said it was time.
But their children, the spawn of the dragon lords. Those she could and indeed did hunt, whenever she had the chance. Some of these children had known the passings of many centuries, and their hearts contained power. Power Muga would eagerly feast upon, once they lay vanquished. The battles usually followed the same course...spells crashing down upon Muga, her flaming greatsword cleaving through the scales of the great wyrms, blows traded and the roar of battle enveloping her...and then the wyrm would seek to rise up out of reach of Muga's wicked blows. And that was always their mistake...for Muga's own wings would spread. Not yet capable of flight...but sufficient to soar briefly upwards and strike the wyrms less protected underside as they sought to flee. Her prodigious strength behind that single blow would open them up fully, and she would laugh with cruel delight as their insides spilled forth and they crashed one last time to the ground. And then the feast would begin...
So it had been on the day in question, and thus once more sated Muga had headed home. Her journey taking her as usual through the great plains as she headed towards Fiirhallen, the volcano rising majestically in the distance. The plains were more to Muga's liking of late...a sense of power and malevolence radiated from the standing stones. Something to do with demons, the reasons for this change held little true interest to Muga. It was just more...comfortable here now. And as was often the case, a collection of elves and humans stood upon the plains, engaged in pointless conversations and obsessed with their own self importance. They all held such arrogance, and yet Muga knew that they really had so very little to be arrogant about. But sometimes they had gold...
It was with that thought that Muga approached them. Accepted their wonderment, their awe at her beauty and amazement at the majesty of her wings. Accepted all this as her due, even if it was somewhat tedious. At least none of them seemed to be becoming infatuated with her this time, it was so dull when that happened. Understandable maybe, but dreadfully irritating nonetheless.
Eventually she managed to turn the conversation to something that did interest her. Was there anyone their with gold to spend? Did anyone need someone killed or maimed? More often than not these weaklings lacked the stomach, or the gold, to hire one such as Muga. But every now and then...well they would pay...and pay well for Muga to do what they lacked either the strength or the courage to do themselves.
One fool amongst those gathered tried to tell Muga that to even ask such was somehow wrong. As Muga laughed in his face and listened to his reasoning with growing incredulity, another stepped forward. It seemed she was in luck, for this person did indeed have a desire for her services. With a final growl at the fool that was still prattling on about morality and such folly, Muga turned and followed her would be employee.
"Who yuz wantz killed den?" She demanded when some distance separated them from the others.
After a wary look around to make sure nobody was listening, a description was swiftly offered. An elf, white hair, slim and slender, quite short. Name of Elrith. Normally Muga did not bother with names, but they could be helpful when you needed to find someone for such a purpose as this. The description was both complete enough, and unique enough, that Muga felt reasonably sure she would have little problem finding this Elrith. So now came the important part...
"Me wantz lotz ov shiniez fur doin' dis" Muga made her position clear from the start.
"How many? Is two thousand enough?" the person who would hire her asked.
"Ya wot? Me tellz yuz...me wantz lotz?" Muga shrugged, as usual bewildered why people found it so difficult to understand such a simple concept.
"Is this enough?" With a confused look, the prospective employer opened a small bag showing a pile of coins.
"Yuz must be jokin' royt? Mez not a liddle draggie yuz knowz. Me wantz a propah 'orde. Me tellz yuz one last toyme, me wantz a lotz." Muga looked at the pile she had been shown with an expression of disgust, and pulled forth a bulging, much larger bag from within her obviously magical backpack.
"Sumfink loik dis shud duz me foyne." Muga said, smiling in amusement at the shocked look she received on showing the huge bag full of gold.
Somewhat paler than before, the price was nonetheless agreed to.
"Yuz wantz me ta killz dis elfy, or just hurtz 'er bad loik?" Muga asked, happy that her price would be met.
"Kill her and throw her body in Midor. Or better yet, if you are able, beat her unconscious and cut off her hands and throw them into the heart of Midor." the reply came with a sense of genuine hatred.
Muga shrugged and grinned back...then ascertained the name of the person hiring her and made a note of those people gathered around so that she knew who to hurt if her payment was not forthcoming after the deed was done. And then she returned home to Fiirhallen, grinning all the way.
Over the next couple of days she wandered the lands. Asked a few people of this Elrith. It seemed this elf was known to quite a few, and not particularly well liked. Muga didnt really care either way, but it was useful to know there wouldnt be too many she would have to kill that came seeking vengeance. And then on the second day, nearly ready to give up the hunt for another day, Muga strode up the path to the Buckshire inn.
Another popular meeting ground, and another group of elves and humans were gathered there. And one did indeed have white hair.
"Iz yuz Elrif?" Muga demanded.
"I might be" the elf responded with a cagey look "who wants to know?"
"Mez Muga" she replied, striking her sizeable chest with one hand proudly "Mez got a messahge fur yuz, if yuz iz Elrif."
The conversation continued, with Muga revealing who had hired her to deliver the message. And the white-haired elf admitting no more than that she might be Elrith. All the while those gathered watched curiously. Eventually Muga decided that this elf was close enough to the description, and after all she hadnt denied outright who she was. So with a shrug, Muga strode forward. What difference if it was the wrong elf, it would still be fun.
The battle was short. Despite her shock at Muga's swift assault, Elrith instinctively launched one attack with her spear, thrusting forward viciously and aiming straight for Muga's heart. But Muga had no time or patience for playing with her prey this day...being more wary of those who watched, including a certain elven priestess that she had had to fight before, and might well have to fight again. And so with surprising speed for one so large her greatsword swept a complicated loop, turning and then forcing the elf's spear wide. Elrith's eyes went wide as she realised she had no defence and Muga had stepped in close, too close. Muga's wings snapped open and she half jumped, half soared forward, her plate mail clad boot making firm contact with Elrith's chest, knocking the wind from her and sending her sprawling to the ground. Elrith looked up slightly dazed from where she lay, and Muga noted with approval that she showed no fear, only defiance, even as Muga raised her sword for what all gathered must believe would be the killing blow. But at the last moment as the huge flaming sword descended Muga turned the blow and it was the flat of her blade that struck with a resounding crunch across Elrith's forehead.
Elrith slumped to the ground with a moan as Muga ran her sword back and forth over the near comatose body of her victim, flames crackling and the smell of charred elf flesh causing her to drool as the others gasped and slowly began to react. Ignoring the babble of voices behind her, Muga finished her work, having bathed Elrith from head to foot in the fires of her sword. She grasped hold of the now unconscious elf's arms and lay them out side by side. With one swift blow the sword fell, its own inherent flames cauterizing the wounds even as the hands were cleanly severed. She picked up the hands, noting the magical gloves and a pair of enchanted rings upon them. Recalling the bravery of her defeated foe, she removed these and threw them upon the comatose form before turning on those who had watched and had now edged closer. A swift glare told her none here would move against her, and so Muga took her prize and left before the guards could respond. She had not been paid to kill any others, and there was no power to be gained from feasting on their hearts.
It was a matter of simplicity later that same day for Muga to tear a magical scroll into small strips and belch forth its contained power, rendering herself invisible. And so she entered the city of Midor, watching with amusement as the guards paled and sniffed the air as she passed. She hammered the dismembered hands onto a signpost in the merchants quarters, where all could see. And she turned and left for home once more...all that remained for her now was to collect her payment.
And it was with this final thought that as Muga relished the caress of the lava on her scaled skin, she broke into a throaty, guttural laugh. She almost hoped her employer couldnt afford to pay her after all...
((Thank you to all involved. I had the privilege of watching the aftermath as a DM and was great to see all the top class rp that followed. Sorry parts of it couldnt make it into this tale, but I had to protect the guilty...or is that the innocent!? *grins* It is the first time ever for me Ive been involved in PvP that worked so well, and enhanced rather than detracted from the rp. It was all consensual, as it has to be, and full credit to Benny for going along with it so well. It can and would be understandable that if certain hidden truths are uncovered down the line further PvP may occur...I would ask that -if- this should be likely to happen, all players remember the PvP guidelines, and talk things through ooc well in advance so that everyone is happy. DM's will be happy to help with this as needed.
Muga has had a lot I could have written about in the last few months, but enjoyed a much
needed break after the preceding novella! But hope you all enjoyed this little tale anyway. *grins*)) |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: Muga Bugbreath...the conception (suitably long)
Posted: 13 Mar 2020 01:51 PM |
| *bump* |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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