Fade16:36 Jun 02 2006
Times Read: 652
Deep in the heart of the Velarswood, the woman sat, cradling the newborn babe in her arms. She looked up lovingly at her husband, "What shall we call her?" was the question in her eyes. The man closed his eyes, laying a hand on the childs head, a small furrow of concentration on his face. For years, he had done it in the small encampment of elvesi n the woods, hidden deep within the saftey of the trees. He would touch a babe, knowing almost instantly what their talents would be, their names, their future.Though, this one was different, this was his child, his only child. As the baby's life flashed before his eyes, a single tear slid down his cheek. He spoke quietly, turning his head from his wife; "Her name shall be Fade... for her light and childhood happiness shall fade as the light of the shining soon does each eve." The woman looked at the back of his head with concern, but knew better than to ask questions.
The baby grew into a robust and happy child, running through the encampment and learning with the affinity that only an elven child can. Every day was met with wide eyed wonder. Open, freiendly and always greeting any and everyone, she was considered quick witted and sometimes michevious. As she watched her child grow, the woman nearly forgot why they called her Fade. Soon, Fade reached adolesence. She was considered a wild beauty, both in appearnace and in mind. Her hair was the color of sweet honey, her eyes the color of the greenest new pine. With a fair complexion and lush lips, her build was lean and fit. Her best feature, many would say, was her hand, long and delicously slender, her head framed with soft pointed ears. She kept her appearance up, braiding the front sections of hair so it hung behind herears and over her shoulders.She had let her hair grow to nearly her knees, pulling it up as she needed for bow practice.
Her father doted on her, gifting her with her magical bow upon reaching her coming of age. The bow was more special than she ever would imagine, for it had been passed through the generations for as long as any could remember. She soon showed a great talent for such a tool, never once picking up a blade, but only the bow. Soon, she could move silently through the woods, the only sound being the soft twapping of bowstring, followed by the unsuspecting target falling swiftly. She had led a shelted lift however, and it did not surprise any of the camp elders when she began to question what was outside of the camp.
One night, after all the others had retired to their tents except for Fade, her father, her friend who was called Bele, hawkmaster, and Bele's father, Fades father turned to her with pain in his eyes. "My most beloved daughter," he began, "I know you have wished for many years to go explore. I have selfishly not given you my blessing. I have seen what will befall you and have let that guid me." "Father," she said, "I know it is is a hard thing, and I would be lying if I said I was not curiuos, but I know the traditions of our people..." "Fade, hear me," her father interuppted, "It is time for me to be a father and not the seer." Her father smoothed her long hair back as he contniued. "and so, when Sehinine begins to lower, yourself, accompanied by Hawkmaster, shall set off to quench your questions. As it is tradition, you shall return to open arms when the time is right." The two fathers then rose, moving into the tents, packing their childrens belongings, and setting the packs, bows, blades and in Bele's case, leather hawk gloves, near the fire, before retiring.
Tradition, as it stands, is quite the interesting thing. It determines life for each and every person. In Fades case, it stated none could watch her and her companion leave, to stifle the want of following after, protecting. It stated that if an adolescent was to leave, The pair waited in silence until the moon began to set, then stood, gathering gear and murmuring prayers before heading off to the west. Two tenday passed with nothing but trees. Soon Fade began to question her journey, until they saw, what neither had seen before, a large ruined tower.They moved silent, sneaking inside to peer at anything and everything, having never had seen anything like it before, not even knowing what it was called. They were peering into a closet with more fresh food than either had ever laid eyes on when Fade heard a muffled thud, followed by Bele slumping to her feet. She hardly registered the pool of blood spreading before she heard another thud and a pain in the back of her head, the ground rushing up to meet her before all went black.
She awoke from a forced sleep in an awkard seated position, the taste of metal and blood nearly choking her. Her arms ached from being being chained tight to the wall behind her, her naked flesh decorated only with gooseflesh. She peered across, seeing Bele, much in the same position, and modestly tried to cover her exposed skin by bringiing her legs up as far as she could to her chest. As she moved, the chains rattled and two sets of leather clad legs soon came into veiw. She followed the legs up to ebony hands, then to a pair of faces much like hers, only black as pitch, pointed ears poking out of manes of snow white hair. They talked down at her, thrusting daggers in her face. As one shouted in the strange tongue, he kicked her in the ribs to prove his point. She paled in pain as she heard the ribs crack, strying to scream, the bit in her mouth turning her wail of protest into a soft keening waiil. The two drow kept shouting commands she did not understand. Then, after beating her until she was nearly as black as their skin and red s their crimson eyes, the drow growled impatiently and moved over to the now alert Bele.
She watched in horror as they slid a dagger, dripping with venom up under one of the boys eye, the orb dislodging with a soft, bloody pop. They drow brought it over, screaming an order over her friends muffled wails of pain and he held the eye under her nose, releasing the bit so she could turn her head and release the bile that had risen in her mouth. She whimpered softly in elven that she did not understand, crying softly as the wto laughed, carving the boy apart. She watched as they peeled his scalp back from his head, disembowled him, flayed his flesh. His one remaining eye stared out at her throughout the torture and violent murder, fianlly merely looking blankly at her as his soul departed for Arvandor.
She walked now with a limp, not from the heavy chains set around her ankles, but from the hobbling she received when caught during her first , last, and only escape attempt. She had caught the eye of that first tenday, a crimson haired drow, and he had left her unchained, naked and bleeding, off to bathe after he had ravaged her body brutally for hours. She had tried to run, despite the pain in her lower body, only to be caught, a log being forced between her legs, the same drow taking a warhammer and slamming it brutally against one ankle, breaking it cleanly in half. She was still however, despite the drow inflicted wounds, expected to wait on the men of the tower at their every whim, be it inside the bedroom or out. She lay every night, faded to a fragment of the whimsical child she one was, keeping her eyes low, watching with hatred as the crimson haired man walked with her fathers bow tucked up over one shoulder. She had become quiet, shy, withdrawn, scared.
She awoke one morning to screams. Her scars had gotten so bad, that she hurriedly dressed in the long robe, gloves, and hood the drow made her wear as she went about her daily chores. She had grown accustomed to the screams of the ones the drow captured, tortured and murdered, but these were different. These were the screams of the drow themselves. She fled the room quietly and in confusion, only to see two quissier, dressed in fine elven made chainmail, rampaging through the tower, killing anything in their way. The first elf yelled to the second "Nashu'ka, clear the rooms." Nashu'ka nodded, and Fade pressed herself to the wall, awaiting her chance. As he moved into the room, she turned and fled past him, robes flying behind her wildly. He turned, bow raised and shouted at Othara that one was making a run for it. Othara turned, shooting with great skill, the poisioned arrow flying straight through her shoulder from behind. She didn't stop, continuing her running, until she had breathed her first breath of fresh air that she had had in more than a decade.
Her wounded shoulder trailed blood as she hobbled along, her shaft of the arrow still firmly in place, tip out in front, feathers in the back. She wandered like this for more than a day, until she came to a trail. She began to follow the trail, until she saw a gate. She slumped, knocking at the gate, then fell back, nearly dead from lack of food, blood, and the poision on the tip, as the gates were pushed open. Human hands caught her, but all she was aware of was of what appeared to be a fuzzy set of elven chain, colored the most horrid shadeo f purple, pressing against her cheek.
She stayed in and out of consiousness, occasionally the bardess singing to her, always having to remind the feverish elf that her name was Erika. Fade never once spoke, never once looked directly into Erikas face, paling every time she saw the wound as the human young lady tended the badly torn shoulder. After a while, she began to respond, her voice, not used to talk, never rising above a soft whisper. She paled in embarassment each time she took a bath, the scars from years of beating and abuse in her head and on her body. She began to keep herself fully clad at all times that Erika was in the room, save for one smooth, uninteruppted arm.
One night, as Erika lay sleeping on the cot she had set in the room, Fade slipped out, content on returning to the woods that was once her home. She did not feel honored enough to go back to her family, knowing what the drow had did t oher body, knowing she was now impure in the clans eyes. Instead, she stayed in the Velarswood near the human settlement , setting her own camp.
Yasha16:34 Jun 02 2006
Times Read: 653
*She awoke, rubbing the charred skin and sleep from her face, pushing herself up. She had slept next to his body all night, shifting only when the bloodstains seeped over across the sheets. She looked down and brushes what little hair remained on top of his head lovingly away from his open eyes. Of course they were open... most of his face had been burnt or scrubbed away. It was hard to believe that this part of her life was nearly over... that they were both dead. She did not mourn them... for she knew that they, as well as she, reveled in the pain that they had suffered.*
......Ten Years earlier....
*Her mother could not keep her. She was a tiny thing, barely six years old. she was the youngest of seven brothers and sisters, the baby of an aging peasent. The couple approahed her momma. Her momma talked, in a low whisper and motioned to her, then the man and woman handed the old lady some gold and nodded. She watched this with the wide eyed incomprehension that only a child can have. She knew something was happening, but did not want to disrespect momma, so she went with the couple when her mother told her to. She studies them as she walks along between them, each holding a hand. The man was tall, bigger than any man she had ever seen. His head was shaven, and marked funny; she would find out later they were teeth marks. The lady was pretty in her black leather. Around her neck was a tightly wound strand of wire, cutting deep into her skin. They both walked as if they owned the world, but unlike most who looked richer than her, they did not carry weapons.
That first night...they took her tattered robe and threw it away, fitting her with her own wire binding and glaring down at her, the lady took a whip and some wooden splinters from a stand near the wall of her new house and approached her. "You will learn... my child... to call me mistress and him master. And you will learn to accept and love this pain, as well as fight in the manners that we ourselves do. You will not hate the pain, but welcome it as a ...very...good...thing." With that, she withdrew and showed her an amulet with the symbol of Loviatar on it and preceeded in slowly, very slowly, driving the splinters into the skin directly under her fingernails.*
....Five years later....
*She had grown into a steady girl. Knowing to take the pain and wallowing in it happily... she had learned young that when she forgot to call them by their given names that she would be forced to sit in the chair. She smiles now as she watches another child sitting there. One of the local children that Mistress and Master had taken for their own... worshipping. The child sat naked now, spikes shoving into the back of the boys legs and back and arms, he smiled, but he had to, for most of the skin on his face, as well as that of his knees, knuckles and elbows, and a bit around his ribs, had been scoured away by acid. Little boys come very clean under acid. The boy shrieked as the fire started to warm up the spikes and sizzle into his skin. She smiled.. and slowly brough the wooden splinters close to his face, heightening his pain by slowly drawing the wooden sticks into his tear ducts. This pleased Mistress and Master and she was allowed to be with them that night. *
.....Back to present....
*The had gotten foolish in their aging ways... they had kidnapped too many, left too many clues.. too many trails. The guard burst into their home late late one night, after they have tortured and killed a teenage boy she had managed to ensnare. They now all three lay wrapped in each other, the boys entrails scattered around in a sausage like string over their near naked, scarred bodies. They had worked this boy over until they collapsed like babes, and were comforted in each other. Mistress woke up first, hissing out a command to the girl "You are just our child, nothing more." she woke Master, who nodded and rose. The guards took quite a beating with the fists of the elderly monks before they were finally able to subdue them and drag them to the stockyards. She cried, begged and pleaded, pretending to be quite the concerned and hapless child of two 'horrid' parents. The guards took pity on her, and when the day came for the execution, she was able to watch as they were staked and burned, much like they would have prefered.. slow... painful... joyous. She carried their bodies, one at a time, back to the home she had known for so long. She held them close, inducing herself into her own small death by means of following the trail of the veins in her arms with razors. She peeled back most of their burnt flesh and wallowed in what she found underneath. when she was completely weakend and satiated, she curled up, forming their charred bones around her to cocoon her and passed out.
When she awoke, she knew that the one young boy who had survived could fniger her too... She packed her four outfits and knelt before the corpses of her Mistress and Master, her Mother and Father, her lovers. " I will find one who will treat me as you have. I will find one to make your proud" She whispered much in the way she knew she had to in their prescence. She took a fingerbone from each and slipped them into a small leather pouch, tightened her wire necklace, smling as she felt the beads of blood drip down her chest and stood, walking out the door and looking over the boatdocks. "Harrowdale" one said. Mmmm... she thought... that sounds fun.
*She arrived in Harrowdale, a bit woozy from the trip. The frenzy could not be fed, too much disease on that boat. All but her and the captian had fallen ill, and she needed the captian. She looked around, her eyes landing on the first young man she saw. A grim boy, his hair mousey and dirty, his shirt stained. He stood, with a group of other boys his age, hassling the women and leering at the men. Perfect! He noticed her staring and motioned to his friends before sidling over to her. She was glad she had chosen to wear the black leather suit for her first outfit of the day and offered him a grin*
"What is your name?" he asked. "Yasha, I am new here. and you are? " She answered in her normal, whispery voice. "Markus" he replied, "My folks own the butchers shop and they are out for the rest of the evening." She grinned, perfect. She asked him to take her home. He gladly complied, his eyes roving over the leather covering her lithe, lean, fit young body.
*He led her up to his room, and almost immediatly tackled her, planting sloppy kisses on his mouth and neck. She moved him towards the bed, straddling his hips and wrapping her arms up and over his hands. She looked down at his eyes, their pupils dialated with the young hormones everyone their age had, then plunged her mouth to his, kissing him fully. He kissed back a moment, sliding his tongue into her mouth. His eyes widened and he breathed in deep, trying to scream as she pulled back slightly, his tounge still in her mouth, clamped beneath her teeth. She chewed and tugged at the tender meat until it finally broke off, then she swallowed it down, the texture and width of a sausage, but much more flavorful.. She looked at him and wiped a bit of blood from her face as he merely stared up at her, keening like a kitten in a vice.*
*After she had had him, she took him downstairs, trussing a meat hook through his ankles, his wrists tied with twine and wrapped around the hook to help support his weight. He now hung upside down, his manhood nothing but a withered scrap of flesh, his hair from head to toe stained with blood, his skin mottled and grey. She laid under him, curled up and resting, His blood from his missing fingers, toes and nose dripping down on her. She thought he may have died somewhere within their hours together, but suddenly he wheezed. He was still alive. she reached her head up to peer at him, and he peered back, his baby blue eyes pleading. She smiled kindly and reached up, digging her thumbs deep into those orbs, reveling in the sound they made when they dislodged and rolled into her hands.
*After a while even this bored her. He coudl no longer speak nor see nor struggle, his constant whining noise was bothering her. She flipped a finely honed fillet knife from his fathers drawer and held one hand up, deftly slicing his stomach low on his body, the knife scraping against the pubic bone. She waited, then took her hand away, at first just watching the fine layer of blood bubbling up over the wound. Then it blossomed, exposing layers of fat and muscle before his intestine and their juices and scents flooded out. Her face was awash in his blood, blinding her for but a moment until she could wipe it from her eyes. She grinned, then looked outside. Nearly dawn. She quickly washed in a basin of water and hurried out the door. she looked around and saw signs; "The Redmark" "I wonder if I can get a room cheap" She thought as she headed into the inn.
The Dead Woman
16:29 Jun 02 2006
Times Read: 655
"So you really think you two might move here?" Calistre asked Xarin and Zirrius as they walked up the hill to the huge deserted house. Zirrius nodded his reply then frowned as the door to the place slammed shut, preventing them from going in and covering itself with massive amounts of negative energies. Calistre yelped as the light appeared over the stones, seeming to draw energy from it.
They moved back, the gate of the bridge shutting and forming a similar magic. She looked at the others as they tried to figure out what was happening. "Watch out!" Zirrius cried as the first wave of zombies started to move towards them. He cast a spell at them as Calistre moved behind the two skilled mages, then watched in curiousity as the zombies did not get injured, but rather disappeared as they reached the trio. "Illusions" The old wizard said. "They are just illusions, they will not hurt us." She nodded and approached the gate, perhaps the magic was merely an illusion as well. She reached out to touch it and was knocked unconsious by a painful jolt ripping through her already frail body.
When she awoke, she was in Zirrius' lap, he pouring a sweetly bitter potion down her throat, trying to heal her. She rose, unsteadily and walked through the gate. They stood around the light, watching...
Suddenly, her purple eyes locked onto the light, "It is so beautiful," she thought and moved closer. She reached out her hand to touch it, to let this gorgeous light wash over her skin. Suddenly, two arms grabbed her from behind, Xarin holding her close to him. "No lass," he murmured into her ear, "You do not know what this light is for. She nodded slowly, then finally dashed out of his grasp and around the tree near them, stepping up to the light and bending, gripping the stone slab the light reached, her face frantic as she lifted the lead stone with ease, flipping it over. The two men looked on, then glanced to each other. "Is she alright?" zirrius asked. Xarin merely shrugged in reply, then watched as she flipped open the tomb underneath, revealing a corpse in a great state of decay, its hand curled around where its heart would be. "I can hear it" She said, hearing and feeling the heartbeat of the dead woman in front of her. She reached down and all went black....
She opened her eyes, looking at the foggy scene in front of her. She was in a house, a man and woman locked in conversation in front of her. "Do you love me?" the lady was asking. "There has been talk in town darling... and with my faith in Velsharoon..." The man stopped her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Of course I love you... " He grinned, pulling her close and smiling as she rested her head turned to the side against his chest. He reached behind him and pulled a dagger, driving it deep into her back. Calistre screamed " No... you killed her!" And then the scene in front of her faded.
She awoke, laying near the grave, Zirrius and Xarin tending to her, one of her arms still dangling in the grave, she screamed, causing uncle and nephew to hold their ears. "He killed her!" As she screamed, the door opened.She stood. " I know who she is... I know where it happened" She did not wait for a reply as she rushed into the house, the other two close on her heels.
They walked into the house one right after the other, all three stopping short of the large puddle of blood on the ground, the two men glancing to each other as they spied the broken dagger in the center of the puddle. Zirrius reached down to grab it, only to have it slip from his hands at every attempt. Calistre stooped down to pick it up, knowingly, then faded into darkness once more.
Calistre awoke to hte same scene as before, the woman now laying in a pool of blood on the floor, the man still holding the dagger in his hand, standing over the lady, slapping her cheek to make sure she was dead. "Love," the man scoffed,"I will get the treasure you have hidden, sell your house, bury you." He looked down, realizing he had broken his dagger on her bones and spit on her body. "Even if I have to bring some men back with me to find it, I will find the switch to your hidden treasure." He laughed as the scene faded once more.
She awoke, her hand still tight around the broken blade, the two men once again bending over and trying to revive her. She looked from one to the other and murmured softly. "We have to find it before him.... " She pushed them away, staggering to her feet and began to rummage around, looking for a switch of any type. "The door upstairs is open" ZIrruis observed, then climbed the steps. The old man and finally Calistre followed. After a search, they came to a locked door. Xarin cast a spell on the door, causing it to unlock with ease. Inside, they found three levers. "On the count of three" The young mage said. Calistre counted down, and they all pulled....
Nothing. Then she heard the voice...
I know the switch is somehwere in her room, I will find it
She turned and ran into the larger of the two bedrooms, looking around in a large circle, then saw it. The corner of the rooms, the stack of pillows, one pillow slightly out of place. She rushed, dirt and sweat and rain on her face still, her eyes frantically searching, her noramally pearl-like skin pale and wan and began to throw the pillows behind her, one by one, before finally seeing the pressure plate in the corner. She stood on it with all her weight and heard a noise as the metallic gears began to turn. "Zirrius! Pull the levers!" She shouted. He did as instructed and... nothing. After two more tries the two men finally put the large amount of books on the plate and the three went in once again to the small room. "On three once more." She said. She counted down and they all pulled their respective lever.
The floor rumbled as something happened downstairs. They rushed down, the carpet on the floor replaced with a large black pit-type hole. Calistre looked at the others for just one moment before lowering herself down the hole, then letting go to the two mens protests. She landed and saw it, the box. She could hear and feel the heartbeat coming from within, and knew, here on this platform, she had found the treasure, she had found the cause of the womans death. She picked the box up, working at the lock with the broken dagger. Zirrius appeared beside her as he as well jumped, then a rope fell as Xarin lowered themselves. "Where are we" Zirrius asked. "On a platform" she replied, "It is rising, see?" She looked up, then finally opened the box.
She opened the lid long enough to peer in. Gold and jewels and scrolls lining the box. She slammed the lid closed, holding it tight. Overcome by curiousity, Zirrius reached out, trying to take the box from her hands. She struck his hand away with the broken dagger, slicing him in the process. The platform finally rose and Calistre rushed off, holding the box tight against her chest.
The others followed her, watching as she stood over the grave, the box held out. Xarin spoke a single word "Now". Zirrius started chanting softly, the blow from the spell knocking her to the ground, unable to move.Zirrius clamored for the box, peering inside, his eyes growing wide as he looked at the scrolls, passing it to Xarin. "I am sorry Calistre, I had to do it, we did not know what was in the box." She sobbed as the spell wore off, moving over to the grave, and kneeling next to it. "I am sorry, I tried to give it back to you." The hearbeat stopped as the voice entered her head.
"Keep it..... revenge.... the man in harrowdale.... blood on his hand.... revenge...."
All went silent...
She sat alone by the fire, watching the flames and writing in her journal, enjoying the fresh air when she blinked, feeling off. Her focus blurred and she slipped into blissful unconsiousness as the red mist surrounded her once again.
She awoke to see a female dressed exactly like her from behind, the elven lass had hair like hers, a figure likes hers... was her! The other Calistre turned around, looking directly at her as she spoke softly, the voice coming from her lips, but echoing around the large void.
"Search when arise the...
Know you task complete when over-looking the waters you see....
After work, trouble and strift, recieve your reward for looking through the...
At night they come without being fetched, by day they are gone without being stolen...
In daytime I lie pooled about, at night I cloak like mist...
I creep inside shut boxes and inside your tightened fist...
You see me best when you cannot see for I do not exist...
Feed it and it will live, give it water and it will die...
Calistre looked up at herself as the vision faded. "What? Finish.. please..." She sank blissfully back into unconsiousness, awaking some time later
She woke back up, her journal laying by her side, rubbing her head. What was that, why had she seen herself. She raised her head to the skies and screamed in frustration, picking up her book and walking to the water near the house in her dreams to write about the newest happenings, finally realizing she would understand when it was time for her to understand, she sighed slightly and leaned against the rock near the water, writing.
"So, you mean to tell me that you are actually kin to the air?" She asked the man sitting across from her. He began to reply when she shrieked, gripping her head as the voices started.
Search when arise the...
Know you task complete when over-looking the waters you see....
She doubled over, putting her hands to her head, her eyes turning frantic. Around her, the doors started opening and shutting themselves. The man sitting across from her sprang to his feet to make sure she would be alright, then went to examine the doors.
After work, trouble and strift, recieve your reward for looking through the...
At night they come without being fetched, by day they are gone without being stolen...
She began to speak the words aloud, having heard them in her vision and repeating them over and over since that day.
In daytime I lie pooled about, at night I cloak like mist...
I creep inside shut boxes and inside your tightened fist...
You see me best when you cannot see for I do not exist...
She looked at the hourglass as it turned itself over at the final words.
Feed it and it will live, give it water and it will die...
She jumped up from the chair, knowing, and rushed out the door to find Xarin.
Xarin opened the door across from her at the same time. "I know your voice," the old mage said in a gentle tone, "But I have not seen your face." At that moment, she saw him, the man from her visions, the one with blood on his hands, the murderer, walk past her. Without a word, she followed. Xarin, understanding something was not right, stayed close to the young elf.
"Holo, where did he go, the man who just walked past... please Holo, this is important" She pleaded with the barkeep, her eyes looking around for the man. Holo, finally seeing her eyes intent, told her of him going into the back room. After some searching, she found the door. Zirrius bounded up at the same time as she pulled the door, the putrid stench of the Redmarks sewer shoot hitting their noses and invading their sense almost immediatly. Calistre sighed, held her breath, and lowered herself in. Zirrius and Xarin followed after her, seeing the look on her face before. Zirrius closed his eyes and listened. "This way." He pointed. They took off, her in the lead as usual.
She put a finger to her lips as the sounds of voices grew nearer. Two men and a woman, dressed in bandit clothing, sat in a small campsite in the sewers, complaining about "Lark" and how he left them there upon learning of the answers to the riddle. She quickly darted into a shadowed dent in the wall, changing into a clean outfit that revealed more skin than cloth and approached, her movement sultry, her eyes sly and her voice purring and seductive and began to slowly question the men. "Excuse us" The first said, pulling his companion aside. "I saw her first" He whispered. "Does not matter" was the reply before they drew swords, fighting over who would recieve her attentions. The young sorceress smiled to herself knowingly. After one was dead, and the other passed out, they healed the injured man enough to find out that indeed, Lark was going back to the scene of the crime. They had to think quick. Zirrius and Xarin stripped the men, doning the outfits of bandits, binding Calistres hands behind her back, making her a 'prisioner' and the trio headed to New Haven once again.
Once arriving at the house, they looked down to the fire pit by the water and saw the caravan of bandits waiting. The led her down, Xarin holding her, looking as if keeping her from running but really allowing the frail elf to help support his walking, his old legs unable to work well enough for him to do the job alone. "Look what we found snooping around." Zirrius said, his hood pulled low "Put her in the wagon, we will wait for Lark to decide what to do with her before we go to the Barons, perhaps she will be a gift" The group then laughed as she demanded her release, watching as Zirrius slammed against her face hard enough to make her pass out. "there, now she will not whine anymore."
She awoke to Zirrius nudging her, ordering her to dance. She refused, saying there was not a bard about to make music for her performance. Stalling them, she closed her eyes and whispered for a way out. At that time, arrows flew from the hill, zombie archers lining the hill. She smiled, knowing the dead priestess was offering a bit of support.
After all the Barons men had fallen to the zombies, they disappeared, and the trio trudged up the hill in search of the man from the visions. They peered into the house when he sprinted by, stopping as he saw the carnage on the hill. "What?" He said. Zirrius looked at him. We brought this girl for LArk, but then this attack happened and, "He trailed off and merely shrugged. "You fool,"the man said, "I am Lark" Calistre perked up and then slipped the broken dagger ouf of her pack, then begins to murmur the words of the riddle softly. "No!" He shouted, backhanding her. She continues, licking the blood from her lips. He hit her again, spinning her most of the way around. Zirrius rushed him, speaking an incantation and forcing him from movement. She wiped her face, knowing this was going to be difficult and began to cast.
"Now darling, tell me why you killed her?" she purred, knowing she was more than beautiful in his eyes. "I was ... ordered to." He replied, his eyes roaming over her. "What is the answers to the riddle?" He started to answer as the spell wore off, then smiled as she recast, answering her question with certianty."Follow... shadows... cliffside." "Which cliff love?" He motioned to the cliff east of the house and she nodded. "Kill him" She threw over her shoulder as she moved the the cliff, the sun finally setting.
Lark rushed her, bleeding heavily and grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around, looking at Zirrius and Xarin as they came to a halt. "Leave me be, or the girl dies." He pressed his sword to her neck slightly, a small bead of blood dripping to allow the words to set in. Xarin murmured something, then simply said "Release her". Lark obeyed the comand, seeming to be under complete control of the old mage. She worked quickly, pulling his body over the pressure plate at their feet.
A large smoke arose, then a fire cauldron appeared from no where. She smiled in understanding as she went to find some dried twigs to feed the fire.
Feed it and it will live, give it water and it will die...
Suddenly, she could make out a shadow along the beach... rushing down to it, she peered out over the water.
Across the water she saw it, a small alcove, a slender box resting inside. She reached out, and fell.
She took a deep breath as she hit the water, the waves heavy from the storm, she began to fade to black as Xarin pulled her out. She shakily pulled a scroll from her pack, forming a door to the alcove and stepped through, knowing her pain would soon be over and everything would come to an end.
She moved to the box and dropped to her knees, opening it silently. A red light flashed around her as she lifted the staff from the box, exaiming the ruins, starting only slightly at the feel of the heartbeat. She sat back and sighed, closing her eyes.
"its over" She said to the two. "this is what she wanted me for this whole time"
"You mean you actually eat goblins?" She asked Noc, her eyes wide, a look of sickness crossing her face at the idea. "I tried once, but after the second bite it was too much." He replied. She opened her mouth to speak when suddenly the staff sitting across her knees began to pulse in a way it had not done in a long time. Startled she rose swiftly and excused herself. "Was it something I said?" He called after her. She did not seem to hear as she cast the spell that would move her closer to where she knew she needed to go.
As she walked through New Haven she felt the staff pulsing faster and faster as she neared her destination. Her steps quickened to match the beating of the staff, until she was at an odd near run. She arrived at the sight, panting slightly, letting the staff guide her, starting only when the gates slammed shut behind her. She shook her head, trying to clear the blackness htat was closing in....
She awoke in a strange place. The ruins around her surrounded in mist. She rose up , steadying herself against one of the broken walls and looking around. Suddenly the form rose from the mist. She knew it at once. It was her, the one who gave her the staff, the one who showed her the way the last time. A year later, she reappears. "I have come to thank you finally. I have waited long to see you in person" The voice seemed to be around her, yet come directly from the figure in front of her. The spoke a while on various things, about her failed marriage. Then she had the chance to ask the questions she had longed to for so long. "What is your name, and why did you choose me?" The figure smiled. "Antionette Delarosa. And I chose you for you remind me of myself when I was young. Your problems with men, your power, even your looks. I know you have what it takes to become what I was in life." Nimara looked at the lady and frowned at her next words " A true Necromancer" "I will not" Nimara said " I will not become like you, like him. Cold hearted, dead... " "You are stubbern," She said, "I like that. ta ta for now Calistre." And everything went black again.
She awoke back at the grave and took a minute to get her bearings before standing slowly and returning to where her and Noc were sitting, the events weighing greatly on her mind.
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