Chapter 11 - A walk in the woods [Archive] - Online-Roleplaying.community

Kelemyn

24th of April, 2008, 02:25

Hearing Lynn downplay the danger of their situation makes Juni feel a bit foolish, like a child being teased for sleeping with the light on. But she almost laughs when Lynn calls her "normal".

"I seem normal, do I? I'm glad to hear it. I do try." Her fingers play absently with the pale blue gem at her throat. "I've never really felt normal though. Too many odd things going on in my head. Visions. Or feelings about what's going to happen next. When I was growing up, the other children didn't want to play with me - I always won at Hide and Seek!" She does laugh at that. The memory used to sting but somehow it doesn't bother her so much any more.

"But to answer your question, just pretending to be normal wasn't good enough after a while. Some people figured that I was too much like my father - he really was not normal at all - and I had to leave town. I met Shade by accident, and she and her friends helped me get away.

"I don't quite feel that I've found my place with them yet," she adds, almost to herself. Then she looks at Lynn with a smile. "But you won't have any trouble with that. You're Nicos'... " She stops suddenly as she realizes what she is about to say.

Lover?? Are you sure that she's Nicos' lover?

"Uh... You're Nicos'... uh, bard.. friend," she finally finishes lamely. It's dark, so Lynn can't see the color come into her cheeks. But Juni feels them burn like fire. She looks quickly away, pretending a sudden interest in the state of the camp fire. "Oh, is the fire dying down? I think it needs more wood..."

itches

24th of April, 2008, 09:10

Lynn frowned, the unspoken word from Juni hanging in the air bringing forth possibilities she hadn't considered.

"Yeah I think you're right," the young bard said as she looked at the still bright fire as it burnt cheerfully. "We have extra wood over there, I'll go get some."

Standing up she hesitated before leaving. "I uh ... If you ... Nicos and I aren't ... I don't know if you and he ... we're not."

Kelemyn

24th of April, 2008, 11:50

"I don't know if you and he ... "

Juni's cheeks burn an even brighter shade of red.

Me and Nicos??

She stumbles blindly away from the fire and away from Lynn, mumbling a hasty, "Think I'll turn in now," over her shoulder as she goes. Her foot is caught on a protruding root and her ankle twists. She almost tumbles head over heels before regaining her footing.

"Damn!" she mutters as she tries to reorient herself. "I can't see a thing!"

"Give your eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness," a voice says from nearby.

"Isac?" she asks the dark form that she can just barely make out among the deep shadows under the trees. "I thought you were sleeping." Something glitters in the firelight, the dark shape is moving. She realizes that Isac is indeed sitting up in his bedroll, but he is diligently restrapping his chainmail.

Chainmail?

Now that she thinks about it, the priest had seemed unusually organized and disciplined during the forced march and while setting up camp. He had never seemed tired, nor had he seemed to lose his focus.

"That.. that can't be comfortable," she says, indicating with a nod the man's heavy armor. "How will you sleep?"

-J-

24th of April, 2008, 15:07

"You get used to it," he says with a shrug. "How's your ankle?" he nods toward her foot as he finishes with the last strap.

Kelemyn

25th of April, 2008, 00:20

"Oh, I'm sure it will be fine." Juni steps gingerly forward a step. "Ow. I think. No, no, it's not bad really, just a little sore. Stupid shoes." She scowls down at her feet and the high button shoes that were the height of fashion back in Tradeholm. Here in the wilderness, they are the height of impracticality, however.

"I really wasn't ready to leave Enderin in such a hurry," she laughs. "If only there'd been time to get some things first. I guess I can't blame you for that though, can I?"

-J-

25th of April, 2008, 04:10

"Here," Isac says as he clears a spot for her to sit, "let me take a look at that."

Juni thinks of protesting, but then imagines how it will be if she wakes up tomorrow with a swollen ankle, unable to walk. She ought to go ahead and let the priest look at it now, before it becomes a problem.

"All right," she says, and sits down in the space he cleared for her.

Carefully removing her shoe and sock Isac expertly runs his fingers across the tendons and muscles, noting each wince.

"Its not too bad," he says still cradling her foot. "Still..." he closes his eyes and his hand glows for just a second. A warmth penetrates Juni's ankle, washing away the pain.

"Oh."

So that's what magical healing feels like, she thinks.

"See...good as new" he says giving her ankle a final rub before returning her sock and shoe.

Juni flexes her foot, feeling the night air cold on her toes. Isac is right - the ankle is as good as new.

"Thank you! You are most kind." She smiles as she buttons the shoe. "But you shouldn't have wasted your gift on me. What if something happens to Shade again in the night?"

"Don't worry," he says with a smile. "It was only a cantrip - minor spells you learn as an initiate. Besides we've more days of long walks ahead of us."

"Oh, great. More walking," Juni says, less than enthusiastically. "I guess I'd better get some sleep then." Thinking about Shade again, and the curse, and the Sisters of the Jade Eye... Juni isn't sure how easy it will be to rest peacefully.

I should've asked him to tell me more about what is happening, she thinks. But instead, she stands up and tells him, "Good night."

"Good night," he says and then watches her grope her way back to her tent. She was right, he shouldn't have showed off. All his training told him to save every bit of divine gift for true emergencies. With a sigh he goes back to repacking his kit.

Not that it mattered.

He had thrown all of his most powerful healing spells into Shade's hand with almost no effect. It wouldn't be long until... he pushes the thought from his mind. Focus on what you can do, leave the rest to Pelor.

Gralhruk

26th of April, 2008, 03:35

The night is cold and quiet, the stars clear and bright above, and one by one the watches pass uneventfully. Shade's watch is as uneventful as the others have been. She has little trouble making out the constellations she knows so well from traveling on nights such as these - the hunter, the dragon, the fisherman. Her cold gaze swivels around the quiet campsite, ears pricked for any noise out of place among her sleeping companions. Her eyes easily discern the details around her, despite the fact that the moon has not yet risen. She doesn't dwell on the implications. When her gaze turns to Isac she finds him staring back at her, all gaunt cheekbones and pale-bright eyes. She suppresses a jolt at the contact; he was next on watch but she wasn't due to wake him for some time yet. Given the events so far this night it was unsurprising that he should find sleep difficult in coming.

Quietly the priest rises and slowly makes his way to the edge of the campfire. Tiredly he sits down across from her, dropping his mace onto the ground with a thud. The dying embers fo the fire reflected redly off of its silvered flanges. It struck Shade as a strange weapon for the thin priest to be carrying, but its worn handle spoke of heavy use.

Isac sits there quietly as the stars turn overhead, occassionally poking at the coals with the blackened tip of a stick.

"How are you feeling?" he says at length.

She is still as he approaches the fire, her body seeming part of her surroundings. Only her eyes were alive - hungry, predatory. But his manner and words disarm her reflexive aggression and she exhales, long and slow, relaxing her body and her mind, seeing him as who he is: a man, trying to help her. It was a foreign concept, against her policy of self-preservation and solitude, but her months with companions had perhaps softened her to the idea. And as before, there was something in him that made her simply believe that he was genuine.

She shrugs at the question, "I'm okay. Not entirely myself, but then it's been a while since I've really felt like myself."

"I imagine...Any idea how we can uncover what it is that you've forgotten?" his eyes stay fixed on the ruddy embers.

The red light glitters on her grey eyes but the night stays pressed closely about her. She'd been considering that same question for some time now. It seemed likely that Ricard would have known something but he wasn't in any condition to talk now. Skathros, maybe, but he'd be happy to watch her rot. What did that leave?

"I don't know. My old mentor is dead along with whatever he knew. I ran into one of his lieutenants recently, who may have been involved in the whole thing; he might have some information but he'd like to see me die slowly so I don't think we'll get anything out of him. Driftport is probably the only shot. That's where I was working when it happened, I think. The guild will still be there, and like as not they'll be using the same mage."

"I imagine a guild mage will not be particularly forthcoming with his trade secrets..." Isac smiles wryly. "Still its a place to start at least."

"That it is."

She leans back silently and for a while neither of them speak, the only sound the slither of wind through the branches. There is not much hope, at least not in Shade's mind. Whatever was eating through her had been working at it for some time. Even if they could get the information they needed, how long would she be able to fend off the curse? She swallows down the fear, tries to be strong.

"Of all the ways I thought it would end, it was never like this."

"Its not over yet. Which reminds me, I need to pick up a couple of things when we hit the next town. Some herbs and the like for a poultice that should help slow the curse."

Shade nods slowly at him, eyes empty. Maybe it would help and maybe not.

"Why do you want to help at all? You did your job - no need to risk your neck for a thief you don't even know. Why soil your name with my crime?"

"Its a character flaw," he says with a shrug. "But its late, and you need to try to get some sleep."

The gray eyes narrow. There was a reason - there was always a reason. Her voice is flat in response.

"What do you want from me?"

The question takes him by surprise. "I want you to live," he says at length.

"That makes two of us. You have everything to lose - I don't see any gain for you, but there must be something. So what is it?"

"I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me," he says as he fishes out a hunk of stale bread and takes a bite.

Shade presses her lips together, wondering if he was right or not. You believed that everyone was out for themselves if you didn't want to be swindled out of everything you owned, up to and including your life. If words didn't match actions or actions didn't match interests, then you could be pretty sure you were being lied to. Of course, she had found out there were other kinds of people - the kind that would help you because you were a friend, or because you were in need. Same behavior, different motivation. She looks at Isac with his open eyes and gaunt face, at the brutal mace he carried at his side - incongruous but somehow fitting as well. She shrugs, watching his jaw muscles bunch and relax as he chews.

"I don't know what I would believe."

"Its the right thing to do." There is a simple finality to the statement, as if he were pointing out something as fundamentally obvious as the sky being blue.

Shade considers that for a while, with only the night to judge the wrongful deeds in her wake. He would have fit well with Cadrius and Maeko. The fact that neither are currently traveling with the group is not lost on her. Cadrius couldn't abide who she was and Maeko . . . well, Maeko hadn't been privy to her secrets.

"You might not feel that way if you really knew me."

"Troubled past?"

"You could say that."

"Can you change it?"

"No more than I can change who I am."

There is a challenge in her voice, one she knows full well that Isac is ill prepared to accept. The worse he thought she was the better - nobody would get disappointed that way. If he wanted to walk away, now was the time, before she let herself have any hope.

"You change every instant you draw breath, whether you want to or not. Every day you choose the person that you are anew."

"And still when the day is ended we have no choice. We do what we must to survive."

"There's always a choice, just as there's always a tomorrow."

"Not if you're dead and I don't want to die. So I don't have a choice. You do. But you need to make it soon or you'll be in the same boat as me."

Hooded, face obscured by the ever present veil and deep shadow, her grey eyes glimmer in the dark, earnest and steady. It was an admission of sorts, to herself more than anyone else, that she still had the will to survive. Thoughts of her blackened, cracking flesh still haunted her but she had mastered her feelings, set her mind to the impossible task that lay ahead. Live, or die trying.

Isac smiles. Her conviction to live would end up doing more than healing craft that he knew. "Let me take another look at your hand before you take your rest."

by Gral & J

itches

29th of April, 2008, 05:39

Nicos lay under his bedroll in the dark, silent night, gazing at the glimmering stars as they slowly wheeled overhead.

"Gods what a boring night," he mused under his breath. "Nothing happened."

itches

7th of May, 2008, 09:07

"All I'm saying is that it seems excessive is all," Nicos said quietly to Lynn as the group trudged along the cold, winter forest path. "The attire, the name, the general attitude."

"You don't need to preach," Lynn replied, just as quietly. "I already said I agree with you."

"But you're not going to say anything?"

"Do I look stupid?"

"Stupid isn't the first word I'd use to describe how you look," Nicos said flashing a smile at his younger companion.

"Oh?" Lynn said with an arched eyebrow. "Then what ... the hell is that?"

Turning to look in the direction the young bard was pointing, Nicos watched as what could only be described as a half-dozen man-sized ants walked over the crest of a nearby hill, paused a moment then came charging towards them.

"I don't know but I don't think they're here to make friends," he said hand dropping to sword hilt. "Guys, we have incoming!"

Cadrius

9th of May, 2008, 15:55

The gorget and pauldrons, the vambraces and gauntlets, the cuirass and greaves—each piece of armor is set with care, leaning against a broad maple. Its few dead leaves shiver in the chill breeze. A fire burns, casting little light and less heat. The rest of the village is still. None of its residents stir. Only the guest is awake at this hour.

Daybreak is still some time off, but already the gray predawn light casts an eerie glow across the thatched roofs. It feels as if a dream. Cadrius wishes it was. But what faint magic might flit before the sun rises is not enough to distract him from his grim business.

He carries each from their homes and barns, bearing their lifeless bodies in his arms or on his shoulders. They deserve better. They deserve procession and honor. They deserve a priest to speak benedictions and speed their souls onward, homeward, to the heavens. Most of all, they deserve to have those that love them best to mourn their passing. But they have none of that. All they have is a fallen paladin to bear witness that yes, these people lived and breathed here. All they have is Cadrius to give them a resting place.

Thirty bodies lie here within what may have passed for a town hall. It is scant bigger than any other building, but its bones are of oak and will suffice. It seems like such a small number, barely over a score, but to see them here, laid side-by-side—husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, neighbors—it is a massive host of the dead. He pauses, looking at them. They are as nameless as the dead on a battlefield. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does. How can he give them peace if he cannot name them?

But it is not the first time that he has presided over unknown souls. As a knight of the Archpaladin, it was his duty to shepherd the fallen from this mortal coil toward the gates of the Invincible. His mouth twists into a sardonic grin. This shepherd would never see the rolling green pasture that the flock had journeyed to.

His voice is soft. The hallowed words ring hollow in his ears, but they suffice. His shoulders and arms ache. These people are laid here, together as a village, along with every chair and table he could carry in.

Dawn comes. The first tongues of flame begin to catch.

Black Plauge

10th of May, 2008, 04:24

Blarth had mostly been quiet since leaving Tradeholm and rejoining the others on the road. It had been the second time in recent weeks that the group had been forced to flee a city. It was in danger of becoming a habit (father had always defined a habit as anything you did the same way at least three times). Father had always warned against habits as things that a prepared enemy could take advantage of. As a result, every potential new habit must be considered carefully before being undertaken.

And so, Blarth was thinking about habits and trying to decide if his recent experiences qualified. On one hand the events which had led to the group fleeing each city were vastly different. On the other hand, the end result was the same. Did the reason matter or not? And if it didn't, was this a habit that Blarth could actually avoid acquiring?

"...incoming!"

Broken out of his thoughts by Nicos' warning. Blarth immediately scans the surrounding for the threat. At first, he sees nothing out of the ordinary. The road, trees, some grass, mud, big bugs, a couple of squirels fighting over a nut, a chipmuck stealing said nut, a few clouds in the sky, maybe a bird or two...

Wait, big bugs?

Looking back, Blarth studies the oversized ants and readily agrees with Nicos' conclusion that they aren't friendly. Grabbing his club, Blarth steps away from the others to give himself some room to fight. Immediately two of the oncoming ants adjust their charge to follow Blarth's movement, but the others keep right on coming.

"I've got these two," Blarth declares. Peering into the future as he'd been taught, Blarth anticipates the arrival of the first ant a split second before the other and meets said arrival with a powerful swing of his club, cracking it's carapace, but not really slowing it as the ant's stinger pricks at Blarth's leg. Stepping lightly, Blrath manages to avoid the first stinger, only to find the second in his other calf and he grunts in pain as the wound burns with the creature's venom.

-J-

12th of May, 2008, 03:23

"Guys, we have incoming!" Nicos's shout is quickly punctuated by the sound of Blarth's heavy club cracking chitin. Two of the ant-men swarmed over the big orc, and another brace were pressing Nicos and his friend. That left the last pair for him, Juni and Shade. At least we have numbers... Isac thinks as he pulls his holy symbol from under his jacket. But that brief glimmer of hope withers as one of the bugs sinks a stinger into Blarth's calf. Green venomous ichor mixes with the half-orcs blood turning it a muddy brown.

Not good...

The chaos of battle washes over the thin priest as he readies his mace. Dark words of power spring to his lips as training he thought long forgotten takes control. A heart beat later he can feel the cold tendrils of necromatic energy blackening his eyes and worming their way into his brain. The colors of the world fade, bleaching under the cursed sight of the undead. Blarth's clothes and body become gossamer traceries wrapped around the bright motes of his life-force. Still strong.... The last two ant-men surge past the half-orc and his opponents. Holding his mace defensively Isac steps forward to draw their attention long enough for Shade to move into position. The two converge, their abdomens flexing forward to drive their venomous stingers home. The first hits the Pelorian in the thigh and eventhough the force sends the thin man staggering, it fails to penetrate his maille. Deprived of a target the second ant-man closes, its mandibles eagerly clicking.

itches

13th of May, 2008, 02:31

Nicos scooped a handful of dirt into his grasp as Lynn drew her dagger from its hiding place and stepped back. Absently the bard noted that one day he had to find out where exactly she was hiding it. Pulling the fistful of dirt to his mouth Nicos began whispering, hot breath carrying words to caress the particles of soil clutched between his fingers.

The insect creatures broke off and one moved directly towards the bardic duo and Nicos increased the tempo of his whisper increased, words lost to the wind the moment they were uttered, heard only by the fragments of dust held in the darkness of his hands, dust that listened to words of coax and encouragement until they began to dance.

The insect drew closer and Nicos' whispering reached a frantic rate until just as the creature was upon him. Throwing the dirt in a sparkling golden spray at the last moment, the bard dove away a touch too slow. A pair of claws impacted with his armour, throwing off his balance and turning a graceful roll into a graceless sprawl.

Laying on the dirt of the forest floor a few feet away, Nicos looked up at the insect. Its head and torso were covered with a golden substance that clung to its carapace and shimmered as it moved. The creature's charge had come to a close and it now thrashed randomly at the air around it, clearly unable to see.

Nicos smiled as he pulled himself to his feet, not bad for a few bruises.

Gralhruk

14th of May, 2008, 04:06

Shade slides off to the side, predictably taking advantage of Isac's play. She falters slightly as his incantation washes over her; the black and white vision she had grown used suddenly rippled, altering slightly. For a moment, the world seemed a place of seething grey, friend and foe alike shapes in massed thunderclouds. Almost immediately, the shapes contracted once more into something akin to their normal forms - grey still but lit from within now, the world darkening rapidly outside the light of the living.

Shaking off the disorientation, she drives her sword toward the creature directly between herself and Isac, seeking to pierce the chitin protecting it's thin neck. Just as she begins her lunge, she hears the sharp, rapid drumming of insectile footfalls behind her. She twists defensively without even looking as the unseen bug lunges for her unprotected back. She feels the stabbing pain of the creature's stinger in the back of her thigh as she dodges beneath the slavering mandibles. Adding insult to injury, the strength is robbed from her thrust and her blade glances ineffectually off the armor of her enemy.

Kelemyn

14th of May, 2008, 06:16

Juni stares. Her mouth drops open. She stumbles back a few steps, instinctively putting the mailed priest between herself and the attackers.

And just in time. The giant ant-men are swarming all over the place, or so it seems. Two come rushing up, but they ignore her and focus on Isac instead. It is incredible - they are insects but they are nearly as tall as the man they are attacking! And they are surprisingly quick and nimble.

Juni takes another couple of quick steps back, and glances around. Confusion everywhere. How many monsters are there? Is anyone hurt? Those stingers are wicked!

It is seeing how the ant-men stab so viciously with their stingers that finally prods Juni into action. She concentrates - clasping her psi-crystal tightly in her hand helps with that - and then throws up a mind-shield around herself. It glitters blue in the cold morning light.

Black Plauge

15th of May, 2008, 03:45

Shrugging off the burn of his calf injury, steps out from between the two mants and takes another whack at the one he injured earlier. This time, however, the mant seems better prepared for the blow and moves its head so that the club bounces harmlessly off it's chitenous exterior. Still, the mant is clearly enraged by the earlier blow that it took as it strikes at Blarth with stinger, pincers, and claws. Ducking and dodging the rapid succession of blows, Blarth can do nothing to prevent the second mant from circling around behind him again, but at least he is able to avoid it's stinger this time.

-J-

16th of May, 2008, 04:43

The formian turns at Shade's attack, allowing Isac to swing on it exposed back. Gripping his mace in both hands he throws all of his weight behind the blow only to have it bounce off the creature's thick carapace. The thin priest staggers backwards as the two formians descend on him. Hardend chitin lashes across his head and chest sending blood and rent links of maille into the air.

itches

16th of May, 2008, 04:58

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Nicos quipped to the blind insect before him. "At how easy it is to crush a-"
"-Behind you!"

Forewarned by the shout from Lynn, the former monk dropped into a crouch, twisting around to see what was behind him. In all the excitement of looking cool and uttering witticisms he had failed to keep track of the rest ant creatures and one had rushed up on him from behind. If it wasn't for the warning from his comely cohort the creature would have bitten his head clear off.

Rising to a knee, Nicos swept his sword out, flicking the steel in a horizontal sweep that met chitinous claws, forcing the insect to momentarily pull back.

"I'll take care of the blind one," Lynn offered, eyeing the still thrashing creature with the golden face paint. "You just focus on that one."
"Sure," Nicos muttered under his breath. "I'll do all of the work, don't mind me."

Gralhruk

16th of May, 2008, 05:22

In a straight fight, Shade knows the creatures have the upper hand. They simply had more weaponry. In hopes of mitigating the advantage she drops back in an arcing retreat, drawing one of them off of Isac. Her plan succeeds but not without a price - the mant moves like lightning and as she dodges to avoid it's mandibles, the creature tucks it's abdomen up and pricks her side with its stinger. Shade staggers back painfully, sweat starting out on her face despite the cold.

Kelemyn

17th of May, 2008, 02:29

Shade is stung right in front of her eyes, and Juni realizes suddenly that the giant ant-men will kill one of more of her friends if something isn't done soon.

I can't fight one of those things! she thinks desperately, even as she fumbles for the sword at her side.

Remember Vywodor! she hears the psi-crystal's voice in her head say.

Of course! She'd used a powerful mind thrust to catch her kidnapper off guard, and then run him through with his own sword. Something like that could work here. At least it might slow the creature down enough to let Shade finish it off.

Juni hesitates. The thought of reaching out with her mind to attack one of these man-ants frightens her. But she has to do something.

She concentrates again, gathering all the mental energy she can command. She holds that power within herself, letting it build and solidify; then lets a tiny finger of it trace a path away from her, feeling for the giant insect's mind. She finds it, but it is so strange, so alien, so insectile, that she almost doesn't recognize it for what it is. The creature seems to falter at just that moment, and she lets go of the pent-up energy. It streaks like an arrow to its target.

Juni sighs with the release of the power, knowing that she had held back just a little. She hadn't meant to. It had just felt like too much power to wield, even against an enemy that meant to kill her and her friends. She had not been able to block out the memory of her father and the way that he had used the mind thrust to punish and to dominate. Nor could she forget that first death that she herself had caused, and the shock in Vywodor's eyes as he realized her true power.

The monster staggers back from Shade, surprised. It likely believed that she had inflicted the pain that it had felt. Juni hopes that Shade isn't made to pay for that.

Black Plauge

21st of May, 2008, 05:26

Realizing that the mants are playing off each other to keep him pinned down. Blarth starts looking around for a tree, or a rock, or some other obstruction that he can use to keep both mants in front of him. The closest, however, is a large boulder several yards away.

Maybe if he hustles though...

Swinging his club to distract the injured mant, Blarth clips it's mandibles as the thing hesitates as it clacks them together, in a gesture some what reminicsint of a fighter rubbing his jaw. Using that opportunity, Blarth steps out from between the two mants and then accelerates quickly to reach the rock. He even manages to catch the second mant off guard with the speed of his departure and it flails it's stinger at the air behind Blarth's departing back.

-J-

23rd of May, 2008, 09:43

Damn... Isac swears under his breath as Shade reels from the formian's assault. Life force pours out of her ragged wounds even as ant venom quickly fills its place. The priest shuffle steps toward the flagging rogue, trying to both close the distance and not let his opponent get his flank.

Isac's formian lunges after him, jabbing is stinger into his lower abdomen. Burning venom fills his guts as he wedges his steel hafted mace into the creature's jaws an instant before they snipped his head from his shoulders.

He lets the creature's momentum drive him back, just out of reach. Half blind with his own blood Isac desperately calls on the power of his god. In the air above the formian a tiny mote of sunlight coalesces into a blazing mace of pure divine force, a miniature version of Pelor's own Sunscepter.

Gralhruk

24th of May, 2008, 00:49

From the corner of her eye she can see Isac battling for his life as the giant insect nearly bowls him over. The sickness washing over her threatens to overwhelm her and she can see her own opponent preparing for a similar rush. Weakened, Shade fears she will not be able to withstand it. Suddenly the thing lurches as if struck, half turning to look for a new attacker; opporunity and action become one as Shade drives suddenly forward.

Too late, it claws for her. Despite the pain and nausea she suddenly feels alive once more, blood and rage coursing through her veins and the ever present song of life and death in her head. Like a liquid shadow, she avoids the clumsy defense and rams her blades home in the soft area where thorax meets abdomen. Already weakened, the mant convulses spasmodically as Shade leaps back to avoid the death throes.

itches

26th of May, 2008, 11:29

Nicos didn't wait for the mant to attack, leaping forward with a wide swing of his blade at it's neck. For it's part the insect rushed forward to meet the attack, ducking below the sword and reaching forward with it's twin claws to grasp the bard on either side of the torso, it's inhuman stregth crushing the breath from him and lifting his feet from the ground.

The bard can almost feel his ribs creak under the presure as mental images of being cut inhalf flash through his mind.

Kelemyn

29th of May, 2008, 03:09

Juni turns her eyes away from the dazzling light of Isac's divine weapon, and notices Blarth's peril for the first time. The half-orc has drawn two of the mants off from the others, and is backed up against a boulder, trying to defend himself from their vicious attacks.

Juni side-steps out of reach of the mant on Isac in order to get closer to Blarth. Then she tries the mind-thrust again.

She puts everything she has into it this time. The psychic energy builds up almost unbearably within her, then snakes outward to find the mant's mind. She flinches again at the strangeness of it - odd how the thing seems to be in a frenzy of panic ... why? what is it? ... it's missing something ... it's disconnected, cut off, alone - but hangs on, and manages to channel the energy into a forceful attack.

Juni does not hold back or try to hide her power out of timidity or fear of the monster insects this time. The young woman's eyes blaze with silver light, and everyone hears a loud *crack* as the energy leaps from her mind to the mant's. The creature claws at the air around its head for a moment, then crashes forward, stone dead.

Black Plauge

29th of May, 2008, 05:02

Bracing himself against the on rushing mants as they once again close against him, Blarth uses his club to deflect one stinger and then easily dodges the second as it seems to lose it's punch part way through it's attack. Suddenly wary by this unusual development, Blarth, watches with morbid curiosity as the mant falls to the ground, its legs curling up and forcing the creature to roll onto its back.

That sound, it sounded familiar...

Brought back to the reality of having yet another mant in front of him who doesn't seem the least bit concerned with the fate of his partner, Blarth uses his club to jam up the creature's mandibles, and then twists hard causing them to pop and dislocate.

-J-

31st of May, 2008, 03:09

With two formians down in the span of a few seconds, Isac can feel the tide turning.

Just four more...

His antman skittered sideways trying to position itself for a sting, but this time the priest is expecting it. Flanged steel bites deeply into the thing's armored carapace knocking it off balance. Isac guides his spell to the creatures back and in a shower of thick ichor the glittering mace strikes true.

But the Pelorian's victory is short lived.

Half mad with pain the formain lashes out and one of its claws strikes true, its wickedly curved chitin easily sinking into Isac's bony chest. Reflexively the creature pulls him in close its powerful mandibles closing on his left shoulder. The crushing force of the beast's jaws tears muscle and cracks bone. A broken scream explodes from the priest's throat in a shower of blood and spittle as he rips his crippled limb free and staggers backward.

Gralhruk

31st of May, 2008, 05:15

Her eyes are now alive with the light of battle as she slides in place behind the creature. The sound of Isac's scream scrapes across her nerves and she surges to attack before she is quite ready. He wouldn't last long in that deadly embrace.

Her leading blade glances off the thick armor on the back of it's head, but the tactic works - the giant bug turns it's head enough to expose an insectile eye. Her trailing blade crashes into it with a sickening crunch and is wrenched from her grasp as it heels over, covered in ichor and blood.

itches

4th of June, 2008, 01:38

The mant's claws crush at Nicos, lifting him from his feet and bringing him closer to the creature’s hideous mandibles. Behind him something cracks, the sound of steel on chitinous hide echos, a curse is half muttered and most chillingly of all, someone screams - all but unnoticed.

The bard struggles to draw in breath and his sword falls from his grasp. The creature looks at him, its insectiod eyes devoid of any emotion he can detect. Inspired by desperation as the edges of the world start to go black and the mandibles move in seeming slow motion towards his exposed neck, Nicos lifted his leg, drew his knife hidden in the boot and thrust it into offending eye.

If the mant made any sound it was lost to the bard as he slipped from its grip, collapsing on the floor with his renewed breath drowning all other sound from his ears.

Kelemyn

5th of June, 2008, 03:15

* CRACK! *

Juni looses another barrage of psychic energy, but this mant is tougher than the other. It staggers free of Blarth's club and turns around, as though searching for the source of the mental attack. It spots Juni and shambles toward her, its broken mandibles hanging askew.

Terrified, Juni tries to back away. But the huge insect lunges forward, catching her ankle with one of its claws, and trips her up.

Black Plauge

6th of June, 2008, 04:46

Seeing the mant turn a second before it turns, Blarth is ready for it and quickly presues the creature, cracking a club blow into it's midsection that shatters its exoskeleton in such a way that Juni finds that what really has her ankle is more of a half-mant than a full one.

Turning to survey what remains of the combat, Blarth sees Lynn contending with a sparklely mant. No, actually, he'd say she's more playing with it than anything else. The mant seems to be striking wildly as the young woman dances around it using her sword to pick away at it's carapace.

Nicos, on the other hand, isn't in very good shape, panting on the ground as a mant reals over him clawing at a dagger hilt sticking out from one of it's large compound eyes.

Figuring that is where he is needed the most, Blarth moves to Nicos's side, trying to interpose himself between the mant and the one-armed bard.

Gralhruk

12th of June, 2008, 02:42

Shade stumbles past the now dead insect to where Isac lies prone. He's conscious but there is blood everywhere. Her steely eyes survey the damage grimly. The chest wound could have killed him instantly - it didn't, so likely it simply hadn't penetrated deeply enough.

She carefully lays her fingers on the blood-slicked mail near his shoulder. Had it fastened onto him a little to the right it would have sliced through the arteries in his neck. The wound was grisly - gaping flesh and jagged bone visible without her even probing. He'd need some serious healing if he was going to live. She wasn't a healer but she could try to keep him alive until Nicos could get to him. Her hand dips quickly into her pouch and pulls out a long strip of white cloth, with which she quickly binds his wounds.

He is stoic and Shade is as gentle as can be given the speed and conditions under which the work must be completed, but Isac is obviously in agony. Having done all she can, she retrieves her blade from the mant carcass and positions herself between the remaining creatures and Isac.

-J-

15th of June, 2008, 02:47

Isac's flesh weeps under Shade's ministrations, but he didn't care: there were still two formians left. By his mental command, the glittering mace of deitic force streaks through the air toward the bug fighting Nicos, but the creature's armor proves too thick. In a shower of brilliant sparks the spell impacts the thing's side and dissipates.

Isac's eyes narrow as his fingers tighten on the haft of his mace. He had hoped to distract the creature long enough to heal Nicos, but now... Closing his eyes he reaches out to the divine Light, entreating its radiance to fill him. Like dawn burning away the night, Isac's wounds fade before Pelor's might.

Rejuvenated, the blood drenched priest moves to join the melee.

itches

17th of June, 2008, 02:03

The ground slammed into Nicos as he gasped for oxygen, his previously discarded sword hilt protruding into his bruised ribs. A shadow falling onto him is all the warning he got as the mant moved in to finish off its fallen foe. It was only Blarth’s intervention that saved from an indignity stinging from the wounded creature, the two struggling almost directly above him.

Seeing an opportunity while the mant was distracted Nicos swiftly squirmed to his side, grasped his sword by the hilt, and thrust deep into its thorax. The insect reared back as the blade cut through its innards, staggered a few steps to the side and then collapsed on the ground, its mouth pieces slowly twitching.

Gralhruk

20th of June, 2008, 05:23

Shade tenses at the rushing sound behind her, pivoting with deadly precision to meet some new attack. Surprisingly, the source of the sound is Isac; he rushes by and into the fray without so much as a glance toward her. He'd healed himself, of course. She blinks, looking for the still living mant near Lynn, but there is nothing. The only insectile corpses in view are dark with what she has come to realize is death.

With the realization that they have won comes the sudden pain of the injury she had sustained. Her leg and side throb with hot agony, the venom still fresh in the wounds. Gritting her teeth, she carefullly wipes her blades before sheathing them and moving to join the others. Pain would have to wait.

"Let's get out of here before any others wander by. We don't have time to waste in any case."

Black Plauge

21st of June, 2008, 05:19

Kicking the mant corpse in front of him, Blarth asks, "What are these things?"

Kelemyn

22nd of June, 2008, 00:48

"I never even imagined that creatures such as this existed!" Juni has gotten up from the ground where she'd fallen, and stands staring down at the shattered remains of the mant that had tripped her. She is pale and wide-eyed with shock.

They might all have died here, stung and bitten and clawed by giant insects in the wilderness!

What other nightmare monsters are lurking about?

Juni strains her psychic senses to the limit, trying to detect any nearby hostile creatures. There is something out there... She can feel its aggression and... hatred? But it is small and relatively weak. The feeling seems to be coming from a stand of pines about thirty feet away. Juni finally determines that there is a crow in one of the trees, watching them.

Why the hostility?

Perhaps it doesn't like six noisy humans in its territory, her psi-crystal points out.

Yes, perhaps that's all it is.

itches

23rd of June, 2008, 13:29

"I'm all for running," Nicos said trying in vain to quickly clean the muck from his sword. "We uh, can all still run right?"

Black Plauge

25th of June, 2008, 06:39

Blarth nods in response to Nicos' question.

"Nothing more than a scratch here," he says, gesturing to what is clearly a large puncture wound in his calf, "I can get rid of it if it's necessary."

-J-

25th of June, 2008, 11:01

Using his necromantic vision Isac takes a quick inventory of the party's health. Nicos needed his ribs set, the ragged puncture in the half-orc's leg would have to be healed before infection set in. Nicos's friend seemed fine, as did Juni, and Shade...

Isac's face goes slack as he watches the inky tendrils of the curse twining their way through the rogue's life-force as she drew near.

"You alright?" Isac asks as he drops his mace into the loop on his belt. Shade simply nods, her jaw taunt with pain.

"I can't do much about the poison now but I should be able to..." his voice trails off as he stares at her cursed hand. Eddies of dark goblin magic hang at her fingertips like grapes made of tar. His eyes widen in disbelief as they stretch out away from her towards the corpse of one of the fallen ant-men.

"Pelor protect us..." Divine power flows into his hand as he grabs her wrist. Immediately the black magics arc spear like into his his flesh. Panic washes over him as he releases his spell; holy light thrown into the unclean night. The curse surges forward for a moment then falls still, retreating at length back into Shade.

Gralhruk

27th of June, 2008, 05:52

Shade is seized again with sickness and searing lightning as Isac channels the holy magic and pits it against the dark stain of her curse. The feeling is like a twinge, but multiplied a thousand-fold into a horrid writhing that leaves her a helpless vessel containing these antitheses. The battle wrings sweat from her body like blood from a wound; she can only grit her teeth and bear the unbearable.

She staggers back a pace when it is over, her hard grey eyes fixed on the priest as though her were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

What am I?

The question rings over and over in her mind and she is filled with loathing and fear and despair. Better maybe to end it now. Horror at that thought wells up and she grits her teeth tighter, until they might crack beneath the pressure, willing her rising gorge back down. For a moment, her eyes express to him the things she will not say, then she turns away. If they stopped here, now, Shade feared she may not find it in her to get up again. Her harsh voice trails back as she starts off.

"We better go."

-J-

27th of June, 2008, 09:26

Isac nods in agreement as he quickly recovers his hastily discarded satchel. The heavy leather bag bites deeply into his still tender shoulder.

It was going to be a long hike.

Blarth didn't seem to be affected by the wicked gash in his calf. Their eyes meet briefly; wild and untamed his orish eyes burn with the fury of a race warrior born.

"Well done," is all he can manage, as he moves to check on Nicos and his friend. It sounded as inadequate as he felt, especially given the half-orc's battle prowess.

"How are you two?"

itches

27th of June, 2008, 10:21

"I'm fine," Nicos said with a wince, probing his sore ribs with a finger. "So long as I don't do anything heroic like try to breathe."

"I'm feeling a little left out that I'm not hurt," Lynn quipped. "But apart from that."

Nicos threw the young woman a flat stare, but didn't respind. "How is Shade?" the bard asked, lowering his voice enough so that she can't hear.

-J-

28th of June, 2008, 06:23

"Let me take a look at those ribs," the thin priest says in an easily overheard tone. Stepping closer he drops to a whisper.

"Not good. The curse is progressing much faster than I originally thought. If we can find some hallowed ground that will slow it long enough to come up with some sort of plan." Pure healing light flows from Isac's palm, suffusing the bards torso with warmth and the popping of cartilage snaping back into place.

"Sorry its not more," he says as he begins to readjust his pack. "I want to save some in case..." his voice trails off as Shade and Juni walk by. "...in case there are more surprises on our outing." He flashes Nicos a wry smile and with a polite bow to Lynn he falls in line.

Kelemyn

5th of August, 2008, 12:24

Juni is at the back of the line again, struggling to keep up with the others. She just isn't used to this much walking.

It's funny to think that only a short while ago she had never left the town that she was born in. Tradeholm - every street familiar, every place known. Well, almost. Certainly there had been places in town that she'd never visited. But mostly it had been the same thing - the same small world - day after day, year after year.

It turns out that the world is a much bigger place than she'd imagined. This seems especially true now that she is making her way through it on foot. She trudges along, head down, mile after mile after weary mile. And when she looks up from her tired feet, she can hardly tell that she's made any progress. Everything looks the same - the rough, broken road; the line of trees to the west. The sun moves across the sky, but only very slowly. The worst part is that she has no idea where in the world she is, or where in the world she's going.

She stops walking for a moment to take a sip from her water skin, and notices that Nicos has fallen almost as far behind as she has. His ribs are bothering him, she thinks, observing the stiffness of his gait. And for once, Lyn is up ahead with the others instead of glued to his side.

"Nicos!" Juni calls, putting the water skin away and hurrying a bit to catch up. The bard waits, and she comes up beside him. "I always seem to be bringing up the rear," she says with a sheepish grin. "I never could keep up with Shade, and it's even worse now..." She lets her sentence trail off without mentioning the curse or the deadly pursuit that fuels their haste.

"But I do wish I knew where Shade is leading us. Has she said anything to you about where we're going?"

itches

5th of August, 2008, 16:39

Nicos stopped when Juni called out to him, trying to catch his breath without taking too deep a breath. His ribs weren't that bad, the bard just needed a few quiet minutes to sit down and attend to them, neither of which were available during the prolonged march.

"But I do wish I knew where Shade is leading us. Has she said anything to you about where we're going?"

"I tried to ask her a while ago, but all she did was kind of ... glare at me. After that," he said flashing her a grin. "I decided to keep an eye on things back here with you. How are you holding up so far?"

Kelemyn

6th of August, 2008, 04:49

"Me? Oh, I'm doing great... just great!" Juni sounds a bit too enthusiastic. "It's great being on the road. I love all this walking and fresh air, especially the walking! It's great for the, um.. legs." She swings her arms a bit more as she walks to show just how energetic she feels. She can't keep it up though.

"Oh, who am I kidding? I'm dead tired. I can't wait for the end of the day so I can sit down!

"And my nerves are frazzled. I keep thinking we'll run into more of those giant ants or something even worse, so I try to 'sense' the future and the road ahead. It's making me dizzy!" She smiles at Nicos. "But at least my ribs aren't cracked. Are you feeling all right? You know, if you think we should stop early tonight to rest, I'll back you up."

itches

6th of August, 2008, 22:29

"My ribs aren't cracked," Nicos replied in indignation. "They're just ... bent a little. No I'll be fine until tonight - that is if our guide doesn't want us to keep marching half the night too. I've been trying to figure out what those ... things were, but I'm not doing too well. Have you ever heard any stories about insect-men? Stories you'd tell to children, old wives tales, myths, anything at all?"

Kelemyn

7th of August, 2008, 10:57

"Giant insects? No. I've never heard stories like that."

Juni walks on, happy for the conversation even if she does have to step a bit livelier to keep up with Nicos' long strides.

"All the stories I heard when I was a child had to do with city-dwelling monsters. You know, the Thing that lives in the sewer and comes out at night to eat children who back-talk. That kind of thing. Oh, and the other children used to tell about the Giant Brain that would make your eyes pop out and your heart explode just by looking at you. Of course, that monster turned out to be my father..."

She walks on in silence for a moment, thinking about her childhood fears and how they stack up against the reality that she has come to know.

"The giant ants really weren't so terrible. I mean, it could have been very bad for us, but we won in the end. Their minds were strange though. They were connected somehow, and yet I sensed that they were missing something, a directing consciousness of some sort. The creatures that we encountered were quite lost without that direction, I think.

"But I worry much more about the Sisters of the Jade Eye. I wish that I knew more." She laughs. "Or maybe what I wish is that I didn't know anything about them at all."

itches

9th of August, 2008, 02:43

"The ants may have seemed easy for you," Nicos wryly commented. "Not all of us were talented enough to avoid injury. I don't know much about the Sisters of the Jade Eye, but I was thinking about insect-men and the closest I came up with were stories of the Blackweb Women.

"They're supposedly half-spider half-women who live in the ancient catacombs of some of the older cities. They were once women who found their true loves but out of fear never acted on it, instead all they could do was watch from the shadows as their true love moved on with their lives. As they story goes, over the years their envy and bitterness turned them into monsters and they were forced to hide in the darkness, coming out at night to extract vengeance on young lovers.

"I'd never given any thought to the possibility that they might be real," the bard said with a sidewards glance. "The way most of the tales are told, the moral gets laid on pretty thick, especially when you have a ... lone audience. I always just presumed they were invented by some crafty ancient storyteller, but there are ant-men, why not spider-women?"

Kelemyn

14th of August, 2008, 10:54

Juni shudders. She has never liked spiders. Loathsome, venomous, bloated things skulking in webby corners. Ugh!

"Nicos, what a horrible thought! Half woman, half spider..." Which half is the spider half? she wonders, then has to drive the resulting bizarre yet vivid imaginings from her mind.

"What is the moral of such a story supposed to be anyway?"

Black Plauge

15th of August, 2008, 02:48

"Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today," Blarth chimes in, having stopped to reposition the cloth wound about his calf and thus making it so that Nicos and Juni had caught up with him.

Standing back up, Blarth continues walking with the pair, "My lerares used to recite that story to me and the other children every time we made excuses for not doing something. Their vengance, however, was not usually confined to young lovers and instead manifested itself on all those who would delay doing something important."

itches

15th of August, 2008, 08:31

"They exact moral of the story tends to vary with who is doing the tell," Nicos commented. "Mine for instance lent on the theme of 'Sleep with the bard before you get eaten by, or turn into a monster.'

"Still," he added turning to Blarth. "I didn't realise that the story ran in both both Orc and Human cultures. When we get a chance to sit down I'd be interested in hearing some of the Orc folktales."

Gralhruk

16th of August, 2008, 02:59

Suddenly Shade is there, having stopped walking a few moments ago, her face like stone. She stares at them, her gaze cold but distant above the veil. The fingers of her right hand toy idly with a brushed metal sword hilt; the other is hidden beneath her cloak.

"Save your breath for walking."

She looks pointedly at Nicos.

"You look like you could use it. And nobody needs to hear us out here," she adds distractedly.

Black Plauge

16th of August, 2008, 03:07

Looking around at the forest, deserted except for the others traveling with him, Blarth replies to Shade, "Nobody is here to hear us."

Gralhruk

16th of August, 2008, 03:14

"How do you know? Isac found us. Skathros' men are still looking for Arjuna. Goblin witches are after me. Then there is Thunn and his men."

She pauses her irritated tirade for a moment, wondering about Maeko. The monk was better off without them, but it still grated on Shade to leave like that.

"And who knows what other creatures are lurking out here."

Black Plauge

16th of August, 2008, 03:31

"Isac found us in a town. Skathros' men, even if they tracked us to Enderin and found out we had left would have no way of knowing which way we were going. The goblin witches don't need to find you, their curse already has. Thunn is dead and his men would have the same problem as Skathros' men if they were looking for us.

As for other creatures, Fear of the unknown leads to paralysis. Act as if you have no fear and you will always be moving. Sometimes even going forward."

itches

16th of August, 2008, 06:08

Nicos glanced at Juni and rolled his eyes.

"We can afford to take a short break," the bard interjected. "We've been walking for a while, and a few minutes now won't make a difference."

Gralhruk

16th of August, 2008, 06:16

Shade glares at them for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally she shakes her head.

"Take your break then. Let me know when you're ready."

She stalks off a short distance without looking back and huddles into her cloak, her back against a tree.

-J-

20th of August, 2008, 10:39

Isac pries the strap of his satchel out of his shoulder and drops it to the ground. Swaying slightly he fights the urge to sit fearing he lacked the strength to stand again. Shade’s lithe form stalks past him, and he stares blankly after her. She is at once beautiful and deadly, like a Harappan ghir’at cat clothed in fair skin.

He lets her brood for a while, pretending to rummage through his sack for a bit of food. At length he tiredly comes to stand next to her, and without speaking offers her a bit of spiced bread.

Gralhruk

22nd of August, 2008, 03:46

She looks up at him, eyes fierce in her otherwise slack face, ignoring the proffered bread. Hunger was the last thing on her mind. She could feel her time slipping by, the sickness feasting on her innards with every passing moment, consuming her even while she yet lived . . .

Shade's wiry form shudders and then stops with a snap as she forces herself away from the edge of the abyss. She shakes her head at Isac.

"It's moving fast, isn't it?"

-J-

22nd of August, 2008, 09:48

Unable to find the words, he simply nods.

Kelemyn

23rd of August, 2008, 22:11

"I guess she's right," Juni says, watching Shade stalk away. "We should have been more careful. I'd almost forgotten about everyone who might be trying to find us." Thinking of Skathros and the Guild for the first time in quite a while makes her feel cold inside.

Juni watches as Isac walks over to join Shade. She remembers when she first met him how she thought that he would be good for Shade, sort of a light in the darkness for her. And it had turned out to be true, hadn't it? After all it was Isac who helped Shade figure out what caused the darkness, and it is Isac alone who keeps the curse at bay with his prayers.

"Well, as long as we're taking a break," Juni says, straightening up and walking toward the pair, "I'm going to find out where we are going."

Gralhruk

29th of August, 2008, 21:44

Seeing his face confirms her fears but instead of hopelessness the knowledge only hardens her resolve. They'd find a cure or they wouldn't. If she slipped too far beneath the fetid waters of the curse then she would end it herself.

These grim thoughts set fires in her eyes just as Arjuna approaches. Shade can see the questions on her pretty face and feels a sudden pang of jealousy at her obvious youthful health.

"What is it?" she asks more sharply than she intends.

Kelemyn

3rd of September, 2008, 10:18

Juni knows Shade well enough by now that she doesn't let the harsh tone bother her... much. She folds her arms across her chest - perhaps as a defense against any further sharp words - and looks back and forth between Shade and Isac for a moment before speaking.

"It might be easier on the rest of us if we knew where we were going. Is there some kind of plan? Or are we just running away blindly? I wish you'd confide in me for once, Shade, instead of making me chase you down and drag the information out of you syllable by syllable. We're supposed to be... " She realizes suddenly that she is being rather harsh herself.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Just..." Juni sighs. "Can you at least tell me where we're going?"

Gralhruk

4th of September, 2008, 00:34

Shade weathers the tirade, her face losing all expression save for her burning gaze.

"I'm so sorry to make things difficult for the rest of you."

She lets the acid words sink in for a moment before evenly naming their destination.

"Tradeholm. We're going back to Tradeholm."

-J-

5th of September, 2008, 10:00

An awkward silence hangs in the air.

"We're hoping to find clues reguarding the location of a scroll. Once we find it we need to take it to Phror Khiliades and exchange it for a reliquary that we can use to release Shade from her curse."

Gralhruk

8th of September, 2008, 21:45

"The odds are against my finding anything, and you know how unsafe Tradeholm is for you. Maybe it's better if you just let us go in alone."

Us.

She included Isac because she had to. It was hard to admit and terribly frightening - without him she was as good as dead. If he decided he didn't want a part in this - and she couldn't blame him if he didn't - then he might just as well brain her with that mace of his before he went.

Black Plauge

20th of September, 2008, 04:21

Retying the strip of cloth that bound his calf wound, Blarth stands up and announces, "I'm ready to continue."

Kelemyn

28th of September, 2008, 22:52

Before Juni knows it, they're back on the road. Heading for Tradeholm.

She can't help feeling a bit foolish for not even realizing in which direction they'd been traveling. It had not even occurred to her they were anywhere near Tradeholm. It just goes to show how ignorant she is.

She'd been stung by Shade's coldness in spite of the fact that she knew she probably deserved it. (It had been rather small of her to complain to Shade about minor hardships in the face of the dreadful consequences of the goblin witches' curse.) And then had felt somehow cut out of things when Shade suggested that she stay behind and let them go into Tradeholm without her; them being Shade and Isac, of course.

Juni had wanted to tell Shade that she could be useful in Tradeholm, possibly even invaluable; but when it came right down to it, she couldn't think how. So instead she had said nothing at all.

And now daylight is fading and darkness is beginning to creep across the sky from the East. Will they make camp again? Or are they close enough to Tradeholm that Shade will want to keep going till they reach the city? Juni had no idea.

-J-

9th of October, 2008, 09:57

The chill of the night air begins to settle into Isac’s joints as they trudge onward towards Tradehome. He had fallen far behind Shade at first, but as the miles stretched on he had gained on her until now they were walking side by side.

“When we get to Tradehome I need to pick up some supplies,” he says quietly. “Some of which are…difficult to come by.”

“Like?”

"Grey jubai root.” Isac can hear her teeth grinding as her jaw muscles flex in frustration. Not that he can blame her. The root, a notorious poison, is banned in every northern kingdom under pain of death, which, in a city like Tradehome, simply makes it expensive.

“If we can get everything by the time the moon crosses into the fifth house, I should be able to weaken the curse," he says hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt. They trudge on for almost an hour in silence, both of them too tired to talk. Cresting a small hill the party sees the gray towers of Tradehome awash in the rosy rays of the setting sun.

"We need a plan."

Gralhruk

11th of October, 2008, 00:55

"Yes, we do."

Her face is grey in the night as she studies the priest before her. Shade looks grim now, rather than tired or worn, with vestiges of her earlier anger still remaining.

"I'm wanted by both major thieves' guilds in the city. Assuming you have the money, I might be able to put you in touch with someone. Can you make a deal with their kind?"

Black Plauge

11th of October, 2008, 01:20

"You mean dream root?" Blarth asks, not entirely familiar with the plant's more civilized name, but intimately familiar with its narcotic properties. "Any temple of Gruumsh should have a supply on hand for dream walks. Had you said something back in Enderin, I could have gotten some from the Half-Sight there. Still, Tradeholm is bound to have a Half-Sight of its own, it is simply a matter of finding him."

itches

11th of October, 2008, 15:15

"That shouldn't be too hard," Nicos ventured. "In a city, someone is always watching you, even if you're hiding and they don't know what they're seeing. It's just a matter of asking the right questions to the right people."

Gralhruk

28th of October, 2008, 03:51

Shade nods, expressionless, needing their help far too much to argue.

"Do it then. I'll take Isac with me to Ricard's."

They had to find something there. If they didn't . . . her jaws flex. She allows herself to feel the relief that Isac was going with her. Her hard eyes look at Arjuna.

"You should wait here."

Just that, no explanation, no discussion. She wasn't the only one the guild was after.

-J-

24th of November, 2008, 07:42

Hiding in the recessed shadows of a doorway, Isac waits for Shade to signal for him. Like fog rolling over grass, the darkly clad woman had moved into the guildhouse, the silver eyed Arjuna just behind. He doesn’t know what sort of power Arjuna wields, whether it is sorcery or somehow powered by the divine, but he, for one, is happy for her obstinance. Deep inside he thinks that Shade is thankful too.

From the door across the street he can make out Shade gesturing, the golden adamantine blade of her short sword glinting warmly in the pale moonlight. After a quick glance for any other guards, the thin priest dashes across the street and into Ricard’s old demesne, Shade silently closing the door behind him. Juni stood at the end of the short foyer, a slim torch in her hand. Even by its sputtering light Isac can tell she is distraught. Glancing about the room he catches sight of a wide bloody swath that sweps across the floor and ends at the door of the adjoining coatroom.

He can only imagine what it would be like to witness Shade practicing her craft firsthand. Judging by the fine flecks of crimson on Juni’s face and skirt it had to have been swift and brutal.

“Are you…” is all he manages to get out before Shade clamps a cold hand across his mouth. Right…sneaky, he chastises himself. There’s a reason he was left behind until now.

Gralhruk

3rd of December, 2008, 01:09

Shade slowly eases her hand away, senses sharp as her blades in this, the home of her former mentor, lover, betrayer. The thug she had slain wasn't hired help - he was guild, through and through. They had an interest here, to protect their own property at the very least. Likely they hadn't decided yet what was to become of it; nobody would be moving in, with Ricard's ghost still lingering, and who knew what traps unsprung. She hoped they weren't waiting around for her to be stupid enough to show up here.

They had no reason to expect her, not with the way she had fled town. Ricard and Skathros both dead, the Night Eyes might well be in turmoil. None of the lieutenants left were tough enough or charismatic enough to seize power without a struggle. So far what she saw fit - one lone guard here . . . maybe another outside, if they were being cautious.

All this goes through her mind as her eyes scan the room, conscious of Isac's gaze on her, of Arjuna's still shocked expression. It galled her once more how easily the killing came. A life was a life, but she knew his kind well enough to know that he'd have done the same to her, with even less reason and certainly with less thought. Death, it seemed, was a very necessary part of her life. With a curt gesture she signals Arjuna closer.

"Let me lead," she whispers so softly even her companions can barely hear, "and don't stray."

She slinks off through the kitchen and up the servant's stairwell to the second floor, avoiding the more obvious path. She knew the guild, knew which route the thieves themselves would use moving about a guarded house. At the top, she pauses, hand raised, listening intently. Had there been a sound? She waits, neck a-shiver, for long moments but there is nothing.

Instead of relaxing, she grows even more intense. It was almost as if she could feel Ricard's shade watching them, and the sting of that judgmental gaze set her on edge. The bedroom or the study - his secret cache would surely be in one of those two places. The feeling of being watched doesn't leave as she pads silently down the corridor and into the bedroom. She pauses again in the threshold, listening, before entering and quickly setting to work covering the window with a blanket from the bed, so that no light might show through the cracks. She produces a tiny lamp from beneath her cloak and carefully sparks it alight. The light it produced was steady and clear but it only illuminated a small area.

"Now, be alert. If there is something here, it might be trapped. Or perhaps the guard was to signal at some point. If you hear anything it means trouble."

Black Plauge

9th of December, 2008, 07:21

Ten drachms of dream root; ten whole drachms! The amount had boggled Blarth's mind when Isac had first told him how much dream root he needed. While the amount of dream root required for a dream walk varied from orc to orc and their individual level of devotion, he had never heard of a single dream walk requiring more than a scruple. Even for the most devout Half-Sight would have trouble going through that much dream root in a whole year.

Still, dream root was prohibited by human laws, and so any temple to Gruumsh in Tradeholm was likely to stock pile dream root, buying whole plants when they were available, and thus would likely have enough. By the same token, however, they would likely husband their supply very carefully. Convincing the temple to part with such a significant supply would be very difficult.

First, though, they had to find a temple, or at least the dwelling of the local Half-Sight that passed for one. In Enderin it had taken Blarth weeks to even find out that there was a Half-Sight there. In Tradeholm, they did not have the luxury of that much time.

At least no one is staring at me in this tavern. Blarth thinks as he nurses an ale, waiting for Nicos to finish making inquiries. It was the third such tavern they had visited that night, and in each they had found nothing. Worse than nothing, really, for much to Blarth's surprise there hadn't been a single individual with orcish heritage in any of the establishments tonight, a picture that ran much counter to what he had experienced here just two months ago. It was as if the entire orcish population of Tradeholm had just left.

Kelemyn

10th of December, 2008, 08:00

The air in Ricard's bedroom feels cold to Juni. After all, no one is living here, so why bother to heat it? A dead man's house, Juni thinks, and shivers.

She tries to concentrate on doing what she came here to do, which is to warn Shade of trouble before she walks into it. So far she has done little to prove her usefulness. She hadn't sensed the presence of the guard on duty until a split second before Shade was aware of him and leapt into action, twin blades flashing. The sudden coppery smell of blood had sickened Juni. Had Shade noticed her revulsion?

Juni marvels - the woman was all business. Even now as she watches her rifle through Ricard's belongings, Juni can detect no trace of what Shade might be thinking or feeling. Juni knows that Shade had worked for Ricard and that she had been the one who killed him. She also suspects that there was something more between the two, but Shade had always resisted her efforts to get the whole story.

So what if she IS business-like now? Juni thinks. Her life - no, her soul - is at stake.

Will you please pay attention? I can't do this all by myself, you know.

Juni holds a torch in one hand and her psi crystal in the palm of the other. It is still occasionally disconcerting to have an alien voice intruding on her thoughts, but since she has learned to make use of the thing she has found that certain of her powers come more easily. Especially when she needs to concentrate.

What else can she do here though? She is actively trying to sense approaching enemies. If any other guards show up, she will know. What more?

Precog.

What?

Use your precognitive sense.

Oh.

Of course. Shade is worried about traps. With precognition, Juni may be able to "see" what happens before it happens, and prevent a potential trap from being sprung.

Using the sense is disorienting though. Depending on how far into the future she attempts to see - and she must try to look forward far enough or there is no point - she can find herself at the center of a blur of conflicting images.

I'll help you sort them all out.

All right.

It helps to close her eyes. The psi crystal can still "see" the room for her, but the simple act of closing her eyes just seems to make it easier for her to turn the sense on.

The room seems suddenly to be swirling with faint, ghost-like figures. Juni knows that she is only seeing multiple images of herself and her companions as they move about the room, five seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds in the future.

Reach even further.

Juni does. It is surprisingly easy. She doesn't realize that she is holding so still that she barely seems to be breathing. The pale images seem to race around madly, but her focus allows her to understand everything that she sees. When one figure leaves the room, she feels compelled to follow.

A ghost-image of Shade leads her into a room down the hall. Juni almost seems like a ghost herself as she floats along behind, eyes closed, countenance blank and drained of color. The room must be Ricard's study. Shelves of books line three of the walls, and a desk and leather arm chair take up the length of the fourth. On the wall behind the desk hangs a family or personal crest - a ruby-red heart with a dagger thrust through it. Juni stops in front of the crest and opens her eyes with a start.

This is important.

itches

10th of December, 2008, 21:43

The sounds and smells of the night tavern market washed over Nicos, and not without some sense of irony he wondered whether it was seedy enough. Blarth and Lyn were split off in the crowd, both with instructions to remain quiet and stop anyone from stabbing him in the back. The bard wasn't really worried about ending up with a knife in one of his kidneys, but it had seemed better then telling them that he wanted them out from underfoot while he worked.

There were two ways he could think of to find what they were after. The first was through the fact that they were after an illegal drug, which meant the local criminal organisations. Considering their current situation that didn't seem too appealing. The second was just a step less likely to end badly. Temples tended to keep track of each other, while not every temple knew about every other one in a populated area, you could generally follow a trail from temple to temple until you found what you were after.

Which is what brought him to the tavern. It was no secret that a cleric of Ga'bond purveyed his divine work in this public place. The followers of Ga'bond forwent formal - and easy to find as it turned out - temples in favour of performing their services out amongst the people.

Scanning the crowd, the bard made eye contact with Lyn, who in turn flicked her gaze towards a corner of the room. Following the path, Nicos found himself matching gazes with a small man sitting at a table. Old without being ancient, the man was dressed in a series of faded red robes with thinning hair held together in clumps with what appeared to be mud. Most striking of all was the eyes in the centre of the lined face, pale grey almost to the point of being white, they cut through the crowd with an intense hunger, like the eyes of a predatory surveying his next meal. Arranging a careful smile upon his face, Nicos made his way over and pulled out a chair.

"You come seeking," the small man said, leaning forward over an almost untouched flagon of ale.

"Well done," the bard replied laconically. "Though considering you're a servant of the god of The Hunt, I'm guessing most people who come here are seeking something."

"Perhaps," the red robed man conceded.

"Now if you could tell me what I was looking for," Nicos continued in bantering tone. "I might be impressed. I'd clap and everything - which isn't that easy for me."

"Oh I know what you seek," the man said, jutting a red stained finger across the table. "The question is, do you?"

"I do," confessed the bard. "But it's just so difficult to get a codpiece with the exact number of rubies."

"You weave an amusing cloud, but the only sight it binds is your own. Let it go or you will walk, ignorant and foolish, past your goal."

"I didn't realise Ga'bond was also the god of riddles," Nicos snapped in sudden irritation.

"No riddles," the small man said with a half smile. "Just secrets."

"Then tell me a secret old man," Nicos responded, leaning back across the table.

"She is waiting for you Nicos," the servant of Ga'bond said, holding out a piece of parchment he had fished from within his jacket. "But for you to Find you must first seek, to Seek you must first see, to See you must have light and deception only creates shadows."

Glancing at the scrap of paper, Nicos stood without a word and made his way from the tavern, gesturing for his companions to follow. When they caught up, he showed them the set of directions written on the parchment.

"Found it."

Black Plauge

12th of December, 2008, 02:07

"Found what?" Blarth asks, looking at the chicken scratch on the paper in confusion.

itches

17th of December, 2008, 13:19

"Where we can find a servent of Gruumsh," Nicos said, indiciating vaguly down the street. "When we get there, it might be better if you take charge. I'd be a little out of my element."

Gralhruk

8th of February, 2009, 03:59

Shade searches methodically, taking nothing for granted and doing her best to take no chances. Her senses, already sharpened by adrenaline, are now honed to a razor edge with fear. This was the home of her mentor, a man who had nearly killed her, a man who had taught her much of what she knew about the craft. What made her think she'd be his match?

Time passes and she feels every second tick by, wondering at each moment if they'll be discovered, convinced she'll trip a hidden device and end up dead or crippled. Completely engrossed, she almost forgets about Juni and Isac. Movement from her peripheral vision brings around in time to see Arjuna heading for the door, a faraway look in her eyes. Isac is busy glancing at the spines of the books on a shelf near the bed.

She whispers urgently for her to halt; Isac's head snaps up but the other woman pays her no heed. Cursing under her breath, she follows, gesturing to Isac to do the same. They catch up to her in the study, where Arjuna is staring intently at the wall behind Ricard's desk, where a bas-relief of a self-made man's self-made crest stands out grandly.

The inner wall is constructed of stone block and the crest covers an area more or less six feet square, effectively dominating the decor. Ricard had been immensely proud of abilities and his rise to power. He equated this personal crest with that power, a symbol of his worth and strength. She knew well his vanity. She looks sharply at Juni.

"What are you doing?"

Kelemyn

9th of February, 2009, 01:20

"Shhhh!" Juni hisses. She is trying to figure out what the future-Shades are doing and the now-Shade is nothing but a distraction. She focuses on one of the ghost images, the one that seems to be farthest in the future, as it carefully examines the crest on the wall.

"You think this is it!" she says after a moment, speaking excitedly to the real Shade but keeping her eyes on the crest. "You think this is where the journal is hidden! You're... using some kind of tool... right there where the dagger meets the heart. You say it should open up when you-" Juni's eyes widen suddenly. "Oh!"

She is silent for several tense moments, watching the ghost-scenes play out one after the other. They all end the same way.

"Everything you try... fails," she says, shaking her head. "The crest is trapped."

Black Plauge

14th of February, 2009, 09:46

Standing before the building that supposedly houses the local Half-Sight, Blarth mulls over his options. What they needed would constitute a huge favor from the Half-Sight and making a good first impression would be critical to creating the mood necessary to gain that favor. But what was the right impression? Should he approach this as he would amongst his own people, battering down the door without so much as a warning? The Half-Sight would surely recognize the gesture and know what it meant, but his human neighbors surely wouldn't and the resultant attention of the guards might work counter to gaining the dream root. On the other hand, knocking as a human would would show weakness and make him seem unworthy of the favor he was going to ask.

His head hurting from trying to work out the implications, Blarth turns to Nicos for advice.

"Is there a way that I can knock down the door without the guards becoming involved?"

itches

15th of February, 2009, 09:53

"Uh," Nicos stumbled at Blarth's unexpected to request. "Keep the guards away from a fight?"

Running his fingers along his chin in an attempt to buy himself more time, the bard's mind rushed from idea to idea, winnowing through them for something with the best chance of working. Magic, a distraction, or even perhaps something straight forward.

"I guess I could bribe them," he ventured. "It's a little simple, but seems likely to work. If I tell them that there is going to be a fight here and give them a little gold, they would be more then willing to turn up a few hours late. Especially if I can find some that have dim views of orcs living in their neighbourhood.

"But is picking a fight with a servant of Gruumsh really the best way to get what we need?"

-J-

16th of February, 2009, 12:34

“What do you mean everything I try fails?” Shade asks, her lips pale and taught.

“It’s trapped and...”

“Obviously it’s trapped.”

“…it’s trapped,” Juni continues evenly, “and everything you try to do to bypass said traps ends with you dying.”

Shade takes a half step back, her eyes narrowing as she glares at the pale haired seer. Isac can tell by her body language that she isn’t quite sure what to make of Juni’s apparent gift. He doesn’t either. But whatever the source of her strange wyrd, it led them well enough around the guild guards.

“Maybe she’s right Shade,” the thin priest whispers. “We could…”

“No trap is impossible,” Shade’s gray eyes cut the rest of the sentence out of his mouth. Her pride had been piqued, and with her goal being so close he knows that there will be no stopping her.

“Take me through what you saw.”

“I saw you die.”

“The traps, Arjuna. Take me through what traps you saw.”

While Shade interrogates Juni, Isac found his eyes wandering the shelves of books that covered almost every space of Ricard’s study. The Pelorian had never met the man, but there is a sense of him that is preserved in the books he read. Five translations of the Beneth Sacur, three of Philoneous’s Tractatus. Philosophy, political theory, economics, history, religion and art - the brick and mortar of a self made man. And price seems to not have been an obstacle. The ancient eleven translation of the Tractatus itself is worth…

“That’s odd,” he mutters absently.

“What?” Shade spins in a blur, her blades bared. Isac curses himself for speaking out loud.

“It’s nothing, just a mislabeled book.” He begins to fidget as Shade’s razor like gaze cuts into him.

“Ricard didn’t make mistakes.” She says flatly, as her blades slide with a whisper into their sheathes.

“Well…um…” he glances from Shade to the shelf and back again. “There are only two scrolls in the Three Scrolls of Skelos and…”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Shade interrupts.

“I know.”

“Why do they call it the three scrolls then?” Juni asks innocently.

“Well actually it’s a funny story, you see…”

“Does it matter?” Shade hisses hotly.

“Well, you did tell me to look for anything out of the ordinary,” Isac says as he offers a weak smile to the seething rogue.

“Show me,” she says slowly through her teeth.

“But you told me not to touch anything,” he starts defensively.

“POINT TO IT.” Shade’s voice never rises above a whisper, but her words redden the priest’s cheeks as if he had been slapped. Meekly he takes a step and complies. Shade glides to the shelf, several strange tools appearing in her hands and squats down. She examines the area around the book for several minutes before glancing at the once again silver eyed Juni. The seer gives her a silent nod and Shade begins to slide the various pieces of bent metal into the shelf’s recesses. At length the raven-haired beauty slides the book into her hand.

With another quick nod from Juni she anxiously opens it. Flinty eyes dart across the page and her brow begins to furrow. She flips through the pages slowly at first, then with a growing annoyance.

“Worthless,” she says with a low growl. Thrusting the book at Isac, she then stalks back to the crest.

Glancing down, his eyes skim over rows of numbers in neat accounting tables.

“A secret ledger?” Juni asks softly as she peers over his shoulder. Isac shrugs dejectedly, his talent for accounting being only slightly better than his talent for thievery.

“Shade wait,” he calls as he relinquishes the book to Juni and follows after the rogue.

“Shade,” he says softly as he lays a hand on her shoulder. “Look I know…” the word trails off as the she pulls free of him, unconsciously rubbing her cursed hand.

“We’ll find it Shade, have faith.”

Shade snorts as she rolls her eyes.

“Maybe the ledger is valuable,” he continues nonplussed. “Maybe we can trade it for the information we need. Maybe…”

“Its not a ledger,” Juni’s voice makes both of them turn. A wide smile illuminates the willowy, silvery haired seer as she stands triumphantly in the doorway. Isac and Shade glance at each other then back at her, each waiting for the punch line.

“It’s a code!” she giggles, but her laugh dies in her throat as taloned hands of ephemeral shadow clamp around her neck and yank her bodily back through the door.

To Isac it is like the world froze at that instant. He can see the frail seer struggling to breathe, the milky skin of her face already crimson and blotchy. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that her struggling would be to no avail, for soon thing that throttled her would drain her strength far before it would take her life. Only the cleansing light of Pelor can touch it. Only he can save her.

Conviction floods his limbs as he pulls the heavy sunburst shaped holy symbol from under his shirt. Thick syrupy air fills his chest as he focuses his Will and opens a conduit to the divine.

Before he can even speak Shade’s adamantine blade blazes like the sun as she moves like quicksilver. She is scant feet away from the thrashing Arjuna when another shadow looms suddenly before her, a yard of dark, pitted steel in one hand, and a brutal poniard in the other. Like a black bolt of lighting the heavy blade whistles through the air in a wicked overhead stroke. Twin blades scissor up to intercept, and the golden adamantine alloy spits blue green sparks when they meet.

The blow jars through Shade like a siege engine, blowing through her guard as if it were made of chaff. Twisting sharply, she redirects the blade to the side while simultaneously rolling back and away from a disemboweling thrust from the poniard. Wood floorboards four fingers thick splinter like kindling beneath the pitted blade, spraying the tumbling rogue with rough splinters.

Several feet away from her shadowy assailant Shade can now make out his features more clearly. A frayed black cloak hangs like rotten cobwebs around the figure, revealing naught but the outline of a twisted human form and a glimpse of blackened leather armor. With slow deliberateness the cloaked man effortlessly pulls his blade free.

“Very good Shade,” the man’s voice rattles unwholesomely.

“Skathos?” the crouching rogue whispers as she inverts her left shortsword defensively. The bent figure gives a mocking salute and then begins a limping step before stopping suddenly and turning toward Isac. Flooded with divine energy, the thin priest’s body luminously fills the room with a light that seemed to pierce like daggers into Shade’s eyes.

“Pelor is the Light, and the Way,” the Pelorian’s words are only whispered, yet they resound like a peal of thunder, washing over Shade in a nauseating wave. Bloody tears roll down her cheek as the blazing sunburst in his hand burns into her brain, filling her with a fear that transcends her flesh and commands her very soul.

“Begone I command y…” With a gurgling cry the Light of Pelor suddenly leaves, plunging the room back into shadow. Blinking back her own sanguinous tears, Shade can make out Isac’s crumpled form, hot crimson angrily pumping from between his fingers. In the far wall Skathos’s poniard quivers, barely slowed as it nearly severed the priest’s head. Skathos raises his blade, his leather armor still smoking from Pelor’s kiss.

“Where were we?”

Black Plauge

17th of February, 2009, 03:07

"No, not a fight," Blarth replies. "It's orcish tradition to demand audiences of Gruumsh or his representatives, not request them. Requests are for the weak and are automatically denied. Demands are strong and might be fulfilled if the strength of the individual matches the size of the demand. If we want the dream root, we can't just knock on the door and ask for it. We have to barge in, breaking down the door in the process, and demand they give it to us."

itches

23rd of February, 2009, 08:11

"That makes sense ... I guess," Nicos ventured. "So I'll go find some guards and spread some gold. Give me 15 to 20 minutes before you ... actually Lyn, stay here and give me 15 to 20 minutes before Blarth starts making noise."

Gralhruk

24th of February, 2009, 02:23

Her stomach roiling at the revelation that this thing was Skathros, Shade slides back against his inexorable advance, giving ground while the more rational part of her mind works out a strategy. It is dark - too dark for a normal human to really see well - but she can make out his features clearly. Twisted, rotting flesh, suppurating some slickly dark substance - in places the putrid skin was peeling from his very bones. Gone was the cruelly dashing thief she had known - this was an inhuman monster. Bile rises as the too-white eyes track her with single minded determination.

His attack, too, differed from anything she had ever seen him use. His strength was enormous, and he plowed through her elaborate defenses like a bull through a briar patch. Yet she was used to that - a great many of her battles were against those with superior power. She relied on speed and skill, killing them before they even realized she had struck, or drawing them out and sliding steel into the inevitable opening. So it was now, too.

Skathros had known her, had known her speed and her skill. At first it worried her, but after another arm-numbing blow from that impossibly heavy sword he wielded, outright fear for her life drowned out everything else. She retreated faster, waiting for some sign that he was wearing himself out but she couldn't even tell if he was breathing, let alone out of breath. Sensing her hesitation, he gives her a deathlike grin. Within his mouth, she sees his tongue working before he speaks.

"You look troubled, Mirrou."

She ducks, his dark bladed sword missing her by inches. Splinters fly as it crashes into one of the bookcases, flinging leather bound volumes like leaves. She rolls into the aisle between the two bookcases, trying to buy herself a moment to recover. Instead of following, he shoves and she can hear the wood split and crack as the entire bookcase topples toward her. She dives out the far end as the heavy thing crashes to the ground. Skathros is there almost immediately and she is forced to parry another hammer blow. Sweat is leaking into her eyes even as the shock and pain cause the tears to start out. The common steel blade drops from her nerveless fingers. Behind Skathros she can see Isac, weak light still gripped in his fingers. He wasn't moving.

Wild fury drives her to attack, and his proximity works in her favor - it is too close for a coordinated attack with his longer blade and she easily slips under the clumsy stroke. She drives the adamantine blade up beneath his sternum, using all the coiled force in her legs to drive it deep. She can hear the hollow thunk as his blade drops to the ground and she feels, as always, the grim sense of satisfaction.

Only for an instant. She realizes that he should have fallen at the same moment his left hand locks onto the back of her head. Shade frantically twists, driving the blade deeper but in another second her head is forced back and she stares up into the nightmare that was once the face of this man. His other hand clamps down on her throat like a vise made of stone. She releases the hilt as both hands shoot to her neck, prying at the cold rotten fingers to no avail. The world swirls in patches of dark and light as the veins of her temples stand out.

"We all have our tricks, don't we my sweet?"

The world spins around again crazily, dimly, and then everything simply vanishes.

Kelemyn

16th of March, 2009, 01:56

Juni stumbles but the cold fingers that clutch at her arm do not lose their grip. Down another set of stone stairs and then along another dank, echoing corridor, she barely manages to keep her feet as Skathros pulls her along beside him. She is almost glad of the cloth that covers her eyes - she can't see where she is being taken, but neither can she see her captor's rotting, festering flesh. The smell surrounds her like a fetid cloud however, foul enough to gag her. The first time he'd questioned her after bringing her away from Ricard's apartment, the smell had been so bad that she'd thrown up on his boots!

"Stand up," he hisses in his dry, dead voice. They have stopped walking, and Juni has slumped to the floor, breathless after their hurried progress. Now she straightens herself expectantly. There is the sound of a key turning in a rusty lock, and a heavy door grinds slowly open.

Then she is pushed roughly from behind. She lurches forward with a soft grunt of surprise, and falls blindly to her knees onto a damp, stone floor. Her wrists are bound together but she reaches with both hands for the cloth that covers her eyes and tears it away. Stone grinds against stone once more, and she turns in time to see the door slam shut.

"Please," she cries, scrambling over to the door. "Come back! You said... " The echoes of his bootheels clicking on the stone floor have already died away, and Juni's words trail off into silence.

She puts her back to the door and leans against it with a heavy sigh.

"That didn't go quite the way I'd hoped it would," she mutters, taking her psi-crystal out from its hiding place inside her blouse and holding it in her hands.

Did you really think that he'd let you go free?

"He said that he would let me go if I helped him decipher the code in the journal."

"He said that he'd let you go if you did what?"

Juni startles. The other voice had seemed for a moment to come from within her own mind, as the voice of her psi-crystal did. Then she realizes that the new voice is coming from what appears to be a pile of rags and straw in the far corner of the cell.

"Shade?" she asks cautiously. "Is that you?"

The pile of rags moves, and a vague, shadowy figure slowly sits up. It is Shade!

"Oh thank goodness!" Juni crawls forward on her hands and knees. "I kept asking him to tell me what he'd done with you! Are you all right? Oh, he's put you in chains!" Juni is shocked to see the shackles around Shade's wrists and ankles, the chains running to an iron ring in the floor.

"Forget about me," Shade growls. "What did you tell Skathros about the journal?"

Juni stops fussing and sits back on her heels. "Don't worry. I've been giving him false clues. I sent him off on a wild goose chase through the sewers, the perfect place for him, if you ask me - ugh! Of course, he may come back and kill me when he figures out I've lied to him."

I told you that was the weak part of your plan.

"Oh, hush." When Shade looks at her with narrowed eyes, Juni shakes her head. "Never mind, I wasn't talking to you. Anyway, I think I know where we are.

"I came to my senses briefly after that shadow-thing of his dragged me off." Juni shudders as she remembers those brief seconds of consciousness and the shadow's cold, dagger-like touch stabbing into her when it realized that she was awake. "It carried me into an old church. It was dark but I could see a great, colored-glass window, strangely beautiful with the lights of the city behind it, although several of the panes were broken. I recognized that window. It's in the front wall of the old Temple of Jergal, Guardian of the Dead. The church has been abandoned for years, but they say it sits atop a maze of tunnels and crypts where the rich folk of Tradeholm used to entomb their dead. It scared the life out of us when we were children! Even some of the grown-ups I knew used to say there were spirits and ghosts and worse lurking about the place.

"Anyway, I think we are somewhere down in the crypts."

Juni is silent for a few moments, looking at Shade. The other woman is haggard and pale, but seems otherwise healthy and, so far at least, physically unaffected by the curse. But for how much longer? How long had it taken Skathros to succumb to the curse? And what will happen to Shade without Isac's powers to help keep the terrible effects at bay?

"We have to get out of here," Juni says, fumbling with her bound hands to pluck a hairpin from the back of her head. "Here. Can you pick the locks?" She is gratified to see a ghost of a smile play on Shade's lips as she takes the pin and begins to work on her shackles. "And do you have any idea where they are keeping Isac?"

Black Plauge

16th of March, 2009, 02:30

"They should be here by now," Blarth says for the umpteenth time as he paces around the clearing outside Tradeholm where the group had agreed to meet. He, Nicos, and Lyn had been there for more than a day now, and with every passing hour Blarth grew more and more worried.

Not that he had reason to. Their own task of obtaining Dream Root had gone incredibly well. Nicos had been able to find out the location of the local Half-Sight with just a few hours worth of "work" crawling through the local taverns. Then, while Nicos distracted the guards, Blarth had burst in on the man and demanded the necessary quantity of dream root, and surprisingly, the Half-Sight had handed it over almost at once. It was almost as if he had been waiting for just such an occurrence as part of a pre-arranged ceremony.

As a result, the three of them had been in and out of Tradeholm before sunrise.

Now, however, the sun had risen twice and there was no sign of the others. Of course, tracking down rumors and information could easily require them to go slow so as not to draw attention to themselves, as Nicos continually reminded Blarth everytime he complained about the delay, but still Blarth had a bad feeling and so worried.

"Are you sure that we shouldn't go looking for them?" he asks, again.

itches

16th of March, 2009, 17:18

"Look where?" Nicos snapped at Blarth, the unexpected and uncertain waiting fraying upon his nerves. "If you have some idea of where, by all means let me know."

Gralhruk

18th of March, 2009, 03:35

Right handed. Shade took the pin with her right hand, keeping the other carefully concealed beneath her ragged cloak. She does her best to look impassive, immune to the pain and suffering inflicted upon her, unphased by the fears of what may come. For Juni - for some idea that Arjuna is someone in need of protection, someone unable to care for herself in this dangerous world. Ironic, in that she had repeatedly shown herself quite capable and not at all in need of Shade's help. Quite the other way around, recently.

But without that idea, without someone she had to be strong for . . . well, then the true horror of her situation might just overwhelm her. Without Isac and his medicine her cursed hand had rapidly deteriorated - black and oozing, somehow larger than before, with heavy tendon and bone visible beneath the cracked skin. She'd vomited, on seeing it, back when she first came to in this dank place. Despair had set in then, but with nowhere to run she had finally come to her senses, drawn the conclusion that Skathros wanted her alive for some reason, and not just to torture her with this undeath.

He still needed them and Juni had just told her what she needed to hear - that she'd been strong and smart. With Skathros gone, maybe they could escape. She curses harshly, unable to open the locks. They were rusty from long disuse, probably requiring considerable muscle even with a key, and this pin wasn't nearly strong enough to do the job. And she was working with only one hand, and that her off hand. Not wanting Juni to note her lack of progress, she pauses and looks over at her.

"At least you aren't chained. What about the door? See what is keeping it shut."

Kelemyn

1st of April, 2009, 11:32

Juni looks at the door thoughtfully for a moment then shrugs. "There must be a lock on the outside. I could hear a key turning in a lock when Skathros brought me in. I don't see anything on this side though, not even a latch... It's just a big, heavy, stone door."

Her high spirits at having found Shade take a downturn again as the hopelessness of their situation sinks in.

"I don't see how we can get out. Are there any grates or vents anywhere? I think I can get these ropes undone at least..."

Juni sits and works on the ropes that bind her wrists. They are not very tight, probably because Skathros really didn't consider her to be much of a threat whether she was tied up or not. It doesn't take long before the ropes are loose enough for her to free her hands.

She can't help feeling a little bit pleased with herself. She had been frightened out of her mind at first. How not? Overpowered by some kind of shadow-creature and brought face to face with a rotting, dead-but-alive crime lord! But she had managed to keep her head through it all, and when she saw that Skathros was after the journal too she had tricked him with false information.

"I didn't think he'd lock me up in a crypt though," she mutters to herself. "How are we going to get out of here? It won't take Skathros long to figure out that I played him false, and he'll be back. He is monstrously strong!" She shudders as she remembers the brute strength of his hands as he dragged her through the corridors. "How can that be? His flesh is rotting away - he's dead, isn't he? It doesn't make sense."

Not dead, he's UNdead. An undead monster.

I know! You don't have to keep reminding me.

That is what will happen to Shade if we don't...

"NO! We have to get out of here!!"

Black Plauge

2nd of April, 2009, 03:59

Dumbfounded by Nicos's curt reply, Blarth lapses into an embarrassed silence for several minutes while he thinks of a reply.

Fortunately for Blarth, he's spared the need of actually formulating a reply when a noise drifts to the groups ears through the trees. At first, it's indistinct because it's so far away, but as it grows louder and closer, the noise doesn't resolve to a single sound, but a cacophony of voices. Looking at each other, Nicos, Blarth, and Lynn share puzzled looks as they try to figure out what the sound of crowd moving through the woods towards them might mean.

"... dirty orc's around here somewhere," a voice declares, clearly shouting to make itself heard over the general noise. "We'll flush him out like a pheasant. Spread out a bit, but don't let yourself get out of sight of the whole group. Orc are a whole lot more dangerous than pheasant, even if their brain's the same size."

This last remark causes the more general crowd noise to coalesce into the sound of laughter for a few moments before reverting to a more subdued level of its original sound.

Gralhruk

3rd of April, 2009, 23:22

Shade struggles to maintain her composure, but the forces of the world conspire against her. The disease is progressing; she can feel it with each moment that passes, feeding off of her life, naught but rotting hunger in it's place. She pushes the improvised lock pick as far as she dares, but it was a poor tool for the job and with only one hand it was fairly well impossible. She grinds her teeth against the desire to vent her anger, the feelings augmented by Juni's rising hysteria. The pick slips and jabs her finger, catalyst for a terrible rage. It sweeps through her in a black tide, blotting out both caution and reason.

She lurches to her feet, brought up short by the chains that bound her. With the awful scream of some wild beast she seizes hold of the chain. Her monstrous left hand sweeps out and clamps down on the rusted metal; she pulls with inhuman strength for a moment that lasts and eternity. The chain snaps with a rattle and she staggers back, eyes glowing like coals, panting with emotion.

The look on Juni's face nearly stops her heart. Instead she chokes down her regret and part of her humanity, moving to the door before her rage flees and leaves her alone with her fear. Her unnatural hand flexes and tests the solid barrier before her. They needed to get out.

Kelemyn

25th of April, 2009, 10:20

The wind blows sharp and stinging cold against Juni's pale cheeks as she sits cross-legged on the rooftop looking up at the stars. What a relief it is to be out in the fresh air again! If only she could forget everything that had happened in the last day or so. If only things could be normal again.

She had watched in horror as Shade broke down the door to their cell, her one hand gnarled and blackened and unnaturally strong. But Juni had pulled herself together enough to lead the way out of the maze of crypts, and finally they had come through to the old temple and back out into the darkened streets of Tradeholm. They'd hurried to put distance between themselves and Skathros' lair, keeping to the back alleys and side streets as much as possible. Juni had noticed with growing alarm that she often lost track of Shade's whereabouts completely in the dim light: the rogue seemed to have become even more stealthy and shadow-like than ever before. After a time, they'd climbed a service stair to a tenement rooftop in order to get their bearings and decide what to do next.

One thought is uppermost in Juni's mind.

"What are we going to do about Isac?" she asks quietly. She watches as Shade crouches near the edge of the roof, poised, it seems to Juni, as if for sudden ambush.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we don't know what happened to him, if he's dead or alive."

Shade continues to look away, apparently studying the nearby buildings and streets, perhaps planning their next move. She makes no reply. Juni can't see her face, or any part of her, really, other than her dark cloak. She has to wonder what is going through her friend's mind right now. She is cursed, and her hand has become a monstrous thing. How long before it spreads to the rest of her body and she becomes like Skathros? How can they stop it? Hopefully the information that Juni was able to decipher from Ricard's journal will lead them to the answer. But do they have enough time? Without Isac's skill and without his prayers, they have no way to keep the curse under control. What if he is lost to them? What if he is dead?

"I can try to look for him," Juni says after a moment. "Psychically, I mean. I'll send my mind's eye back to Ricard's place and look for sign of him. That will save us from having to go back there ourselves... maybe. Let me try."

Juni doesn't wait to hear what Shade will say about her idea. She closes her eyes and holds her psi-crystal tight in her hand to help her concentrate. She has to make a conscious effort to put the thought of Shade's monstrous hand out of her mind. How terrible it is that she has come to fear and distrust her friend! But she had seen for herself the blackened and corrupt flesh of Shade's undead hand. And she had seen her friend's barely controlled rage unleashed.

Concentrate, her psi-crystal admonishes.

And Juni is suddenly back in Ricard's study. Or rather, her mind's eye is there. She feels like she is floating in the center of the room, a disembodied eye connected by a psychic thread to her self on the roof. She had been thinking of the last time she'd seen Isac, right before Skathros' shadow-creature had dragged her away. The priest had been holding a shining sunburst aloft, then had fallen to the floor in a spray of crimson. She'd thought him dead for certain before blacking out herself.

Her view now is of the door to the hallway, and she has to reorient her mind's eye, turning it by degrees, in order to see the place where Isac had fallen.

"He is not here," she says out loud, reporting what she sees to Shade. "There is a large pool of blood on the floor where he fell. Oh, so much blood... He must be dead after all!"

Her heart lurches, and she feels tears start in her eyes. He can't be dead! What will happen to Shade?

Don't jump to conclusions. Besides, if he is dead you would expect to find the body here, wouldn't you? It hasn't been that long ago that it happened. No one would likely care enough to take it away already.

"What else do you see?" Shade suddenly hisses near her ear.

Juni tries to calm herself and focus her attention on the pool of dark blood.

"There are tracks.. bloody footprints. And it looks like something was dragged out of the blood pool. Oh, and there is a pile of bloody clothing nearby. They are Isac's things, I think. Someone must have come here, come and tended him perhaps? The trail leads out into the hallway. Hold on a minute."

The disembodied eye can't move of its own volition. She has to refocus - start over again and send it to the new location - in order to move her view out into the hall.

"The trail goes down the hall... and just ends there. Wait, the wall down there looks like it has a door in it. Hold on again."

Refocus...

"Yes, the trail goes right to the door in the wall! And..." Refocus again... Juni is starting to tire now... "And on the other side of the door is a narrow stairway leading down."

She opens her eyes. Shade is crouched right beside her, staring at her with those piercing gray eyes, as if by concentrating she could see what Juni had seen through clairvoyance.

"Do you want me to follow the stair down?" Juni asks. "It is getting harder to change locations each time. I don't know how far I'll be able to go...

"I think that Isac is alive," she continues hopefully. Is it reasonable to believe so or is she only indulging in wishful thinking? She decides that it doesn't matter. "We should go back and follow the trail. We need Isac." She glances pointedly at Shade's hand, though it is hidden beneath her cloak. "And more than that - Isac may need us."

Gralhruk

28th of April, 2009, 23:42

Anger was an emotion intimate to Shade - for years now it was never far from the surface. But this, this hatred simmering inside her, was different than the white hot emotion that she was used too. It was more than her simple anger, which burned clean, bright and quickly. This was more insidious, more bestial - it was rage, and a rage fueled by hideous longing and unreasoning madness.

And it was in her, constantly. Even now, she clenched her teeth, trying to think clearly through the haze as Juni stands motionless and unaware, focused on Ricard's study on the other side of town. Bits of information dribble out; she fights down the desire to choke what she wants to hear out of her friend.

Unthinkably, Juni says it: Isac may yet live. She steps forward with frightening suddenness, seizes Juni's tunic with her good hand.

"The blood. How old was it?"

"I - "

"The markings of the boots. The sizes."

"I'm not sure - "

"Leather or metal?"

"I couldn't te-"

"What about the clothing? Ripped or cut?"

"Shade, I don't -"

"Damn you, I need to know!"

"SHADE!" Juni shoves her back, angry, frightened. "Stop it!. I only know what I told you."

For a moment, Shade's face twists into a horrible mask of feral rage and Juni is suddenly sure her friend will attack, but Shade shakes her head instead and after a moment her eyes look less wild. She turns away abruptly.

"I'm sorry."

Her shoulders slump for a second, then she shakes her head again, steeling herself.

"I'm sorry. I need to find him."

Cadrius

29th of April, 2009, 11:43

“What’s that?”

It is the first noise she has said in two days, and the first words he has heard in a fortnight. Since the horrific night in her family’s farmstead, Sarra has fallen into a near catatonic state. She moves where directed, wordless and mindless, appearing hardly more alive than the walking dead that shambled into her house two weeks earlier.

At his insistence, and with no complaint voiced from Sarra, they hid in the woods for a week. Each night Cadrius went to sleep with his hand around the hilt of his dagger, wondering if it would be him or Sarra that would turn first. The infection seemed all but assured. He had crept through the eerily silent village, finding none alive. Those dead that he had not butchered had disappeared, shuffling into the darkness.

Camped beneath the boughs of pines and firs, breath steaming into the air, Cadrius waited for his end to come. It did not. Instead, their days were filled with cerulean skies and the high wisps of clouds racing overhead. Zephyrs darted through the forest, stirring the needles above. A little fire smoldered at all times, being fed sporadically.

After a few days his remaining food ran out and he was forced to steal back into the town under the cover of night and forage what he could. Worried for her safety, Cadrius brought her with him. She followed, docile; seeming unconcerned with the fallen paladin’s robbing her neighbors. He was worried about the purity of the victuals lying on the shelves and in the pantries and larders, but desperation forced his hand. That night they supped on salted pork and stale bread.

When not following Cadrius, Sarra sat on the ground with her knees clutched against her chest. He did not need to ask if she was cold. Instead he fed the fire and doled out the food they had brought with them.

Feeling ashamed, Cadrius had waited until Sarra was not looking before he took the small leather purse with a few silver coins. They would have need of his money should they live long enough to reach a town. A healer would not come without cost, especially if Cadrius dared to speak the truth.

He turns to follow Sarra’s gaze toward the river and wonders if her decision to speak is not a sign of madness. He sees nothing save the flow of cold, dirty water and a fallen log bobbing in the current far upstream. Birds sing overhead, crying sweet songs of territory and longing. Then he spots it. It is not a log at all, but a man. He floats face up, moving at the beck and call of the water. His head collides sharply against a rock before being swept around it and closer to Cadrius and Sarra. As he draws near Cadrius can see he’s bereft of all but the barest modesty—a merchant, most likely, or some other victim of brigands or robbers. His possessions stripped from him, his killers had dumped him into the river to let her dispose of their guilt. Cadrius’ mouth twitches. Stranger or not, none should be buried like this.

“Watch the fire,” he says. The golden light of dawn stretches her fingers across the trees and low hills near the river. The water chills him to his core and his breaths come in deeper gasps as he reaches out and grabs one arm of the dead man. The skin is cool to the touch, but not cold. Cadrius frowns and lifts the corpse from the river. It occurs to him to perhaps hide the body from Sarra, but he thinks better of it. She has seen worse than this and if a dead man’s presence brings her back to the living, then so be it.

“Is he…?”

Cadrius looks at her, seeing clarity reflected in her brown eyes, and gives a tiny nod. She cannot see the cuts that run deep on his back, leaving his flesh little more than ribbons. He lays the corpse down, almost reverent in this act, and looks at him. Tattoos mark his flesh on his arm and shoulder. Cadrius’ brow knits together as he stares at the symbols. The first he knows well. The circles and slashes of goblin glyphs are unmistakable. This one is a former slave. The story reforms in his mind. Perhaps this one had made a break for freedom only to be cut down from behind. Cadrius’ lip curls in disgust. The only thing worse than thieves were slavers.

But there is another mark on him that gives the fallen paladin pause. It is no slave tattoo. He knows the sunburst mark anywhere. This man was not just a worshipper, but a priest of the Shining One. A slave turned holy man? Or a holy man enslaved? It is not for Cadrius to know. However, he knows a spot that would be suitable for a Morning Lord. A hill nearby with a southern face would be a good spot for a cairn and could let the sun drift down on the departed.

“Stay here,” Cadrius says. “I am going to find a spot to lay him to rest. Do not touch anything.”

He leaves Sarra there, feeling a twinge of guilt for abandoning the girl with a corpse, but he is not willing to drag a body up the hill without making certain there are the stones to build a monument for the fallen. Winding between the trees and up the slope, Cadrius pauses halfway and admire the wilderness. The grass trampled underfoot has seen the feet of few men. He will miss it when they venture into the town upstream. To love the wild more than the works of man is a strange thought for a one such as him.

“Cadrius!” Sarra’s call sends a chill through his veins. Instinct guides his hand behind his shoulder, where the hilt of his sword should be, but isn’t. He curses himself for a fool, having left the great blade back by the fire. He takes off running back down the hill as fast as his legs will carry him. Nightmares of robbers and rapers dance in the back of his head, urging him onward as sure as any lash.

He breaks through the last of the brush and back to the river, blood up and dagger in hand. But there are no foes here. It is only Sarra and the man Cadrius thought to be dead. But the corpse’s eyes are open and his chest draws breath. Cadrius’ bedroll props his head up at an angle and their eyes lock. The fallen paladin clutches the dagger more tightly.

“Are you alive?”

Black Plauge

5th of May, 2009, 04:17

Anger and fear. Orc and human. Blarth's two natures battle within him at the sound of the mob. A mob gathered to hunt him down like a bird.

Anger. The orc in him cries out for a stand. Bite and rend. Club and pound. Make them respect you. Make them see your strength.

Fear. The human in him cries out to run. There are too many. You'll be overwhelmed. Resistance will only bring more of them down on you. Get away while you still can.

Anger. The voices of the mob hum with it. Orcs have killed wives, children, parents, and friends. They must be made to pay for their crimes. Orcs must be destroyed.

Fear. The mob is driven by it. Fear of the destruction wrought by orc tribes. Fear of losing those they hold most dear to the rampage of one who is stronger than them. Fear of death.

His eyes wide with the panic that threatens to overwhelm him, Blarth looks at Nicos.

-J-

9th of May, 2009, 01:06

Are you alive...

Isac can feel the words oozing into his consciousness like blood flowing into sand. His pale sea green eyes stare blankly upward, seeing neither the young girl nor the rugged warrior standing over him.

Eyes searching for the sun.

"Hey, priest, are you alive?"

The thin priest's lips crack and air begins to rattle through his throat for a moment before dropping back into his chest. Pain latches onto the side of his neck like a rabid wolf causing his frozen limbs to convulse clumsily. Bits and pieces of memory come back to him.

Ricard's house...the ledger...Skathos...

A shaky hand lightly touches the still open wound.

Why am I still alive?

Isac closes his eyes, and reflexively reaches out to the Eternal Lantern.

Pelor is the Light and the Way...

Holy light faintly glows under his palm as the warmth of the Sunlord flows through his body.

"Yes."

itches

11th of May, 2009, 12:37

Nicos barely bit back a curse as the sounds of the unruly mob drifted towards them through the forest. Someone must have spotted Blarth in the city and followed him out to the wilderness, or this was a random alcohol fueled patrol. Either way the result would be the same. Even as shorted tempered as he had been of late Nicos didn't relish the thought of becoming entangled in a free for all with a lynch mob. A glance at the panic in Blarth's eyes quickly dismissed the possibility of flight, the half-orc was the most woodland savvy of the small group, but only if he had his wits about him.

The other options exhausted before they began, Nicos grabbed a hooded cloak and draped it over Blarth's shoulders.

"Lyn," Nicos hissed to his companion. "Get over here. No offence Blarth - but we need to hide his features. Can you do that?"

"With what?" Lyn retorted, glancing around at their makeshift campsite. "I didn't exactly remember to bring costume powder with me."

"Improvise." Nicos said back, biting off the word.

"Fine," Lyn said as she started to carefully rub dirt onto Blarth's features. "They'll want to know why we're out here if we're not with a half-orc you know."

"Yes I know," Nicos said, shooting the young woman a withering look. "I'll think of something." I hope.

Cadrius

14th of May, 2009, 11:13

Cadrius once stood on the pier in his homeland, talking to a captain as his men unloaded barrels and crates from his ship. They had made port in late afternoon and the tired sailors bent double, trying to hurry their labors to make time for the evening’s drinking and wenching. The rich orange light spilled over the quay, painting the masts of moored galleys.

Captain Middleton bore the weathered lines in his face of a man married to ship and sea first and his wife second. He was as salty as any dog that crewed his caravel, but kept his etiquette when before the duke’s son. Cadrius felt out of place in his own home, wearing his rich livery. The gold and green surcoat bearing his family’s mark reminded him of the divide betwixt the two worlds. There are those who rule and those who must be ruled, but in the open sea, every captain is a king and every ship his kingdom.

“Oh, aye,” Middleton said. “There are risks going up river to the other duchies. Pardon my speech, lord, but you dukes are wont to grab a man’s ship and cargo if you think him to be delivering aid to an enemy.”

Cadrius nodded. Even in times of relative peace, there were always rivals to watch and gain advantage over.

“You have seen your share of danger?”

“More than you know, m’lord,” he says. “But the risks are often worth the rewards.”

“And what risks are those?” He knows the answer, but wants to hear it said. Later, he will ask his father if he has ever seized a ship and kept it as his own.

“The good ones will empty your hold and pay you for your trouble. The others, well, if you can’t speak you can’t complain about losing your ship, can you? Dead men tell no tales.”

Dead men tell no tales. He thinks of this now, looking at the priest who had been floating dead in the river. Perhaps they tell no tales, but can a dead man lie? But it is not the glow of magic from his hands, knitting flesh together, that convinces him that the priest is alive. It’s the fire that blazes behind his eyes. It is the burning will to live.

Sarra stands nearby, uncertain. Cadrius tucks the blade back into his belt.

“What happened to you, priest?”

-J-

18th of May, 2009, 11:23

Isac is silent for awhile, not wanting to leave the blissful state of communion. While casting he feels himself being lifted from the demands of the the physical world into the supernal realm of spirit where he is free. Free from cold, and hunger, and pain. Free from loss, and dispair. Free from the past.

Free from the diluvian weight of life as it crashes down on him.

Like chains of lead, the reality of the world of flesh wraps itself around his spirit dragging him down into the nearly naked, miserable, shivering husk of being. It was the same every time, and every time it was almost more than he could bear.

Then, a single ray pierces the gloom of his mind. A tiny mote of human kindness no bigger than a small girl's hand, and no wider than the worn, wool blanket that she hesitantly wraps about his shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispers, drawing the coarse fibers tightly around himself. Her eyes are filled with shock and pain, and she quickly retreats behind the warrior. Behind but not embracing...

"I think," he starts roughly then drops into a fit of coughing. Even healed Skathos's blade still haunted his flesh. The warrior pours a slug of water into a leather cup and offers it. The drink's coolness helps greatly. "I think someone decided to give me a swimming lesson." He forces a weak smile and finishes the water.

Black Plauge

21st of May, 2009, 06:47

Unsure of what Nicos and Lynn are about, Blarth's actions as they first attempt to mask his more obvious orcish features are counter productive. Their insistence, however, soon gets the message across and he steadily becomes more pliant to their efforts even if his own actions aren't exactly helpful.

Once they are satisfied with their work, Nicos steers Blarth towards the fire ring and instructs him to sit with his back towards the approaching mob, which is quite close now.

"Act as if you can't hear anything," Nicos hisses as he and Lynn move to take up "casual" positions between Blarth and the mob.

Unsure of what exactly that will accomplish, Blarth nevertheless picks up a stick and begins stirring the remnants of their campfire with it, doing his best to ignore the sounds of the mob as it breaks into the clearing.

Cadrius

1st of June, 2009, 14:32

He cocks an eyebrow at the priest's wry response. The priest understates his fate by seven leagues, but Cadrius merely gives a quick nod and kneels by the fire. He pulls a small pot from his rucksack and hangs it over the low fire. Sarra stands nearby, transfixed by the torn flesh, now healed to a bright pink.

"We do not have much," he says, "but it should warm you."

The stew is modest indeed. Cadrius has never been much of a cook, but it has salt pork, potatoes, and carrots and a thick, albeit bland, broth. Nevertheless it is hearty and will warm the bones if not the soul. Soon the smell fills the air.

"I am Cadrius," he says, fetching a worn wooden bowl and a rough spoon. "This is my daughter Sarra."

"Isac," he says with a weak bow.

Steam wafts up from the pot and Cadrius pours a helping into the bowl. He offers it to the priest who takes it gratefully. He holds the plain bowl reverently, breathing in the warmth of the steaming vapors. He forces himself to eat slowly, partly in the name of etiquette, partly to keep the wound in this throat from reopening.

It is, quite possibly, the best stew he has ever eaten.

Except for the scarping of wooden spoons and the murmuring of the river, they eat more or less in silence. Half way through his second bowl Isac realizes his holy symbol is missing. The shock drops like chilled lead brick onto the warm pillow of stew in his gut. He glances forlornly at the river then returns to politely finishing his food.

There is nothing that can be done about it now.

"Are you two heading towards town?" he asks quietly as he idly pushes his last piece of pork through the thick, brown broth with his spoon.

Cadrius

4th of June, 2009, 10:51

The town walls did little to impress. Worn stone was weathered and cracked in places. In others, more prominent fissures had been filled by masons using whatever mortar they could. The town watch, too sparse for Cadrius’ liking, made the occasional pass along the top. Cloaked men bearing the checkered shield of the town turned their eyes toward the horizon where the wild lurked and waited.

Cadrius had fastened his surcoat tight over the mail and chain beneath, muffling the clank of metal against metal. There was no hiding his shield or sword though and he was stopped at the gate by the cautious guards. However, their fears were allayed by his lie. He, his daughter, and his brother Isac were traveling from their village a week’s journey to the north.

At the mention of Sarra, one man leered, trying to see if any curves of womanhood were present through her roughspun dress. Cadrius resisted the urge to split his face open with a mailed hand.

He had dressed Isac in the spare clothes he kept in the rucksack. Once fine, they were dirtied, torn, and patched in places from two years of exile. Too big, the shirt and trousers almost resembled robes. The priest had been forced to cut a new notch in the belt just to cinch it together.

“This man, Skathos you say,” Cadrius says, passing beneath the arch and into the town proper. “If he finds you again he will only make certain the job is finished.”

“Perhaps.” The priest’s reply is too serene for Cadrius’ liking.

“I cannot involve myself,” Cadrius says, nodding his head toward Sarra. “I cannot put her life at risk.”

“No,” Isac says. “You can’t.”

Cadrius frowns. The admission and recognition of his helplessness irks him. His life has been spent protecting, serving, and honoring one cause or another. Here is a man who claims innocence, was left for dead, and Cadrius must stand by like a mewling babe because of his charge. Perhaps he owes nothing to this girl. Perhaps he owes her everything. He cannot say if that dread plague would have struck had he not arrived. His fate is one of a fall from grace. Divine wrath knows no bounds.

“Perhaps the watch…”

“Skathos is a powerful man,” Isac says. “He has many friends.”

Grabbing the priest’s arm he pulls him into an alley. The acrid stench of offal fills his nose. A beggar, dying of some god forsaken disease, moans piteously from his pile of rags and filth. Sarra flicks her eyes between Cadrius and the dying beggar, alarmed. She has not been outside of a village. She hasn’t seen the wretchedness that comes with cities and the gathering of men.

“Then you will die.”

“Mayhap. If that comes to pass then I hope Pelor will find my soul worthy and welcome me to Elysium with open arms.”

His piety is as infuriating, but it cuts Cadrius deeper than he likes. Here is the certainty of a man blessed from on high. What sins he might bear have not tipped the scales away. His soul will find warmth and love in the everafter by the light’s blessing. He will roam the fields and valleys of paradise, pausing only occasionally to look up at the great Citadel that rests upon the highest peaks in that land of perfect goodness.

The envy is overwhelming.

“I cannot let you do this,” Cadrius says. “You will need me. There will be another way.”

He does not do this out of kindness. He wants the priest to live another day in this hard, painful, cold world. He wants to deny the faithful his reward for at least another turn of the Shining One. Perhaps Cadrius’ penance is not to make right on his past deeds, but to make certain others earn their ends.

He does not do it out of kindness. He does it out of spite.

itches

5th of June, 2009, 12:02

Nicos turned to face the mob, screwing his face up into an expression sneer, his hand moving towards his sword hilt. Grasping only air on his hip, the bard realised his weapon still lay on the dirt several feet away, where he had thrown it in frustration not too long ago. Making a fist instead, he eyed the mob.

"What do you think you're doing," he demanded in a nasal voice, making his lines up as he went hoping a solution would present itself. "This is private property!"

For not the first time he wished one of the more imposing members of his entourage were still around. He was painfully aware that the combination of himself and Lynn would fail to strike fear into the heart of even the most craven coward.

Kelemyn

10th of June, 2009, 09:33

"You read the signs wrong, all wrong," Shade says grimly as she surveys the scene in Ricard's study. Juni holds her breath, half-expecting Shade's frustration to erupt into another violent outburst.

"What do you mean?" she dares to ask in spite of her reluctance to draw Shade's ire.

"Someone came for him, yes, but not to tend his wounds. They stripped him, took what they wanted, and left the bloody rags behind." Shade sighs, sounding more tired than anything. Tired and beaten. "Then they took the body and dumped it," she adds, pointing to the bloody trail leading out of the door.

"You think he's... "

"Of course he is. If he was alive when they started their dirty work, they finished him off. Isac is dead."

Juni looks down at the blood-spattered floor, feeling sick inside. Poor Isac! He had only been trying to help them. She thinks of him as she'd last seen him alive: a thin figure suffused with golden light; a man holding the power of the Sun in his hand. He, least of all of them, deserved to die.

But she will have to mourn him later. Right now her main concern is Shade. Without Isac to keep the curse in check, how long will she last?

"Let's go meet up with Nicos and Blarth," Juni says finally, wiping away a few stray tears. As she turns toward the door, a glint of gold from under Ricard's desk catches her eye. She crosses the room and stoops to retrieve what she's found.

"It's Isac's sunburst," she says, wonderingly. It is heavy, an intricate piece of metalwork, gold on silver, quite possibly of elven make although Juni is certainly no expert. It's beautiful.

How can he be dead?

Juni tucks the holy symbol inside her blouse next to her psi crystal, and then follows Shade out of the room.

Cadrius

12th of June, 2009, 14:08

“What is the meaning of this?”

The thronging mass turns to see the owner of the booming voice. They move as one, reeking with the threat of blood and murder. Their eyes burn with hatred and fear, searching for purpose that ends in a red ruin. Yet the crack of the fallen paladin’s voice is like the flick of a whip over their heads. His every word and action drips with the authority of one born to privilege and command.

“Are the lot of you deaf?” He advances on them as a murmur spreads through their ranks. The large shield on his arm is dented and dulled from many blows. The haft of the massive sword jutting above his shoulder is well worn from use. His blue eyes blaze with rage. Cadrius does not look like a lordling, fresh out of his mother’s care. He storms upon this mob as one of the kings of old: those that were forged in the fires of carnage and steel. A ripple of uncertainty rolls through the mob.

Sarra stands behind Isac, half shielded by the slim priest’s frame. After spotting his former comrades Blarth and Nicos, he pulled him aside and instructed the priest to spirit Sarra away to the Three Cups Tavern should the worst happen. Last Cadrius knew, an old campaigner by the name of Bartelman lived here. He was a good man, or was in the years he had served Cadrius’ father. It was a gamble to even assume he lived, but if he had not yet been laid low by axe or spear, then he would be found lurking in the tavern he always spoke of around the cookfires. Isac’s business was his own

“I am Sir Cadrius of Somerest,” he says, the bark of command coming as easily to him as breathing. He comes to a stop a dozen paces from the mob, allowing enough space to pull his blade and cut down the first daring enough to challenge him if need be. “These two are my men and they, and those with them, are under my protection.”

“So let me ask again.” He flexes his sword hand. The metal of the gauntlet creaks with deadly intent and a dangerous gleam sparks in his eyes. “What is the meaning of this?”

Black Plauge

13th of June, 2009, 05:52

"What do you think you're doing. This is private property!"

At Nicos' demand, the mob seems to instinctively turn to one of its members for a response. Before he can formulate a reply to the absurd claim, however, a new voice breaks in.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Turning with the rest, the apparent leader looks like just another member of the mob. As the newcomer continues to speak, however, a cold rage burns behind his eyes, very unlike the confusion that can be found elsewhere. Indeed, closer inspection reveals that very little of this man is like the rest of the mob. Where most brandish hammers, sickles, knives, picks, and other tools as their weapons, he carries an old short sword, a true weapon, and one which certain eyes would recognize if they considered it close enough. Where most wear clothes that have clearly seen hard use but have been kept in good repair, his are clearly new under their current layer of dirt.

"What is the meaning of this?" the newcomer asks again as the apparent leader slinks out of sight, and the mob, now leaderless, begins to try and formulate its own response.

"We're hunting orc!" a voice shouts.

"This is old man Tate's land!" another exclaims.

"You're a long way from Somerest!" a third adds.

itches

24th of June, 2009, 15:08

It took Nicos several seconds and a double look for the identity of the man who had stepped forth from the surrounding brush to sink it. Cadrius - a man who had been sucked into the conspiracies of the mages beside him, and one who had hasn't seen since Blarth and himself and set off after Shade.

Placeing an even greater strain of disbelief on the situation were Cadrius' companions. An unknown slip of a girl, and Isaac, a cleric who had only recently begun to travel with them. Were this a tale, Nicos' bardic instincts warned him away from the improbability of the situation. Dozens of questions dashed through his mind, chased away by the reality of the angry crowed scant feet away. Now was not the time.

The crowed recoiled at the authority Cadrius wielded with as firm a grasp as any weapon, but did not withdraw. Content to let the former paladin take the lead in confronting the mob, the bard began to measure the distance between himself and his discarded sword. If things turned ugly he would need it in a hurry.

Gralhruk

24th of June, 2009, 22:03

Dead.

Shade can feel the weight of her unnatural hand, hidden beneath her cloak and swathed in a long length of blue silk. Hidden, but still a grotesque abomination. It wouldn't be long before the rest of her body would follow. Thoughts of Skathros, the horror he'd become, set her gorge rising.

And she knew it wasn't just deformed, it was dead.

Still part of her, still functioning, capable of things she could not have imagined even days ago. That was the fate she was walking toward even now. Isac had been her last hope, and a slim hope that had been. There was nothing left now.

She moves forward doggedly, filled with the same sick hate that came with this creeping illness, pushing hard toward Nicos and Blarth. To what end? They couldn't stave off this horror the way Isac had. Her step slows, the throbbing in her head causing her to grit her teeth. Shade stops moving completely, the good fingers of her right hand massaging her temples. Behind her, she can hear Juni's tread falter uncertainly and then end. She can feel the familiar weight of her swords across her hips. It had been her answer to life up until now and it comes to her in that instant that it would be her answer once again.

She looks back at the clairvoyant, her stony eyes burning. It would be best for all of them this way. Sweat dampens her back at the thought; beneath the flimsy covering, her heavy hand clenches spasmodically, seeking something to crush, to kill. Her head is pounding, darkening the edge of her vision, reducing her world to a tunnel focused forward. Moments pass while she tries to find the words for the frightened, concerned gaze across from her.

It is Arjuna who speaks first, reaching out a tentative hand to grasp her shoulder. Clearly she means to try to comfort her friend in spite of her own misgivings. "Shade, everything is going to be all right."

She shakes the hand off roughly, winds her fingers around the hilt of her sword.

"Neither of us believe that."

Take it. Take this blade and slit my throat.

It would be a kindness - her mind would go before long, same as her body, turning her into a rotting beast. Better a clean death now than an interminable time as a mindless abomination. She'd seen Skathros, still clinging to bits of his former self. She wouldn't go there, but even so the words won't come out. It's too great a burden for Arjuna, and Shade knows it, but she wasn't the only person in the world.

"We need to get back to the others. Maybe Nicos can help."

"Nicos?" The other woman gives her a quizzical look. "Well, yes, certainly he will be able to help. Blarth too... "

The pale brow furrows. "What are you thinking, Shade?" she asks, sounding suddenly alarmed. The pair stare at each other for a moment, Arjuna's silver-blue eyes searching the shadowy depths of Shade's own, as if she might read her mind. "Shade? Don't you dare give up! We still have the information in Ricard's journal, remember that."

Shade looks away, breaking the contact with those oddly penetrating eyes, afraid that if she listens she'll have hope.

"You saw him. I won't let that happen to me."

She rubs her eyes, tired, grim, sick of holding back the dark tide of malevolence that writhes in her blood. Something in Arjuna's plea slides past her carefully crafted walls, dodges the visceral anger of the curse and finds the woman inside. A woman who had learned that to survive meant to push through hardship and do what needed to be done.

"But enough of that. The journal - you found something? You weren't just lying to Skathros?"

by Gral & Kel

Kelemyn

29th of June, 2009, 01:02

A sick dread sits like a heavy weight in the pit of Juni's stomach.

"I won't let that happen to me."

Of course Shade would not, should not, let it happen. To become like Skathros, to allow the transformation to reach its conclusion, is unthinkable. And a true friend would aid her in any way that she could. Even if it means...

No! She can't expect me to do that!

Are you her friend or are you not?

A quick thrust of the sword and the blade slides into the belly up to the hilt. Hot blood flows over her fingers and Vywodor staggers back from her in shock, then falls to his knees. He stares up at her, gasping his last convulsive breaths, and ... it is over.

Juni shudders, the memory of her teacher's death surfacing suddenly, almost like one of her visions of the future. Reflexively, she wipes her hands on her skirt, remembering the blood and feeling it still wet and sticky on her fingers.

Could she do it again? Could she kill? She had barely used the sword since then. And how could she use it against someone she cares about? But if Shade begins to lose herself in the curse, she'll lose her own will as well. She won't be herself any more...

"I said, did you find something in Ricard's journal?"

Disoriented, Juni shakes her head and finds Shade looking at her, grim and determined as ever, but with no real hope in her eyes.

"Yes, yes, I found something," Juni answers, pushing aside thoughts of what may yet need to be done. "You'll have to help me make sense of some of it, but he definitely mentions the scroll, and-"

At this point she is jostled by a passing townsman, and Juni realizes that they have stopped in the middle of the walkway. This might not be the best place to discuss the contents of Ricard's journal. She lowers her voice.

"We'll talk about it back at the meeting place. Come on."

Cadrius

14th of July, 2009, 14:37

The mob is uncertain but not without purpose. Their aim is violence and Blarth is the bullseye. He draws their ire from his pointed ears and orcish jowls. Perhaps they hate half-breeds here in the north as much they do the parents, or maybe they are simply too ignorant to know better. They stomp and snarl, a vicious beast. Cadrius’ lip curls. He longs to speak with words of steel; his blade can sing as sweet as any choir. He watches it play out in his mind. It could be no matter to take the heads of the first two men, watching them go down in gouts of crimson. Seeing death doled out in heaps, the rest would be cowed like the cattle that they are.

But that was a different time and a different man. Cadrius has an obligation. As likely as he was to throttle this mob through strength of arms, he could die. They could overrun him, bash his skull in with a rock and take Isac and Sarra too. He cannot allow that. He swore an oath—the last he shall ever pledge—and he aims to keep this one. Where he has failed his family, his order, and his god, Cadrius will not fail this little girl.
So it is that the fallen paladin, a man who has walked the life of the sword for so long, does not draw his blade and wreak bloody mayhem upon the smallfolk of this distant border town. He crushes the urge, but keeps his baleful glare fixed upon the crowd.

“Aye,” he says, “I am far from Somerest, but that gives me no fewer rights here as a knight of the order. If my men have strayed onto Tate’s land, then it is but an innocent mistake. Yet if you take issue with my men, you take issue with both me and a good friend of mine: the captain of the guard.”

“He knows Balent?”
“He’s a liar.”
“The orc must pay!”

Cadrius raises his voice over the din. “We used to campaign together. Perhaps I should ask him and a dozen of his best to come down, and investigate, eh? The guards do look bored. I am certain they would love to find a mob to break up.”

“He’s full of shit!”
“I don’t want any part of Balent and his boys.”

The guards of these border towns are often times little better than the criminals and monsters they strive to keep out. Order is obtained through absolute force. The men relish their power and exercise it wherever they can. Between the local government and the church, Cadrius wonders if there is an honest man here. Perhaps Isac is one of them, but probably not. A man who is stabbed and left for dead in a river must have lies of his own that he keeps. Nicos spins thick webs of his own. No, if there are any innocents here it is Sarra and Blarth. They deserve a better world, a sweeter one, but Cadrius cannot offer them that. All he can do is grant them this reprieve from the world’s cruelty for this hour on this day. He can give no guarantees beyond that soon enough, the world will try and grind them down again, and soon.

“Isac,” Cadrius says, “Go and fetch Captain Balent and his men. I am certain they would welcome a little entertainment.”

The members of the mob exchange worried glances. They squabble and squawk like feuding birds. But the tapestry of hate that binds them is frayed and unravels with haste. Men begin to scatter while others yell and fume. One man, a wild passion burning in his eyes, tries to rally the crowd and stir them back into action with fiery rhetoric, but the damage is done. The mob disperses. Furious, he and three others stalk toward Cadrius. The fallen paladin gives no ground, but his hand slides toward the dagger at his belt.

“You staying long here?” The first man points a thick sausage finger at Cadrius’ chest.

“Oh, I do not think so. I have business to attend elsewhere.”

“Good.” The man spits on the earth near Cadrius’ feet. “You should find the trail soon, sir. It gets dangerous after dark. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your lordship.”

“Kind advice. I shall remember it.”

The men leave, grumbling about greenskins and the sullying of knighthood. Cadrius watches them go, wondering if all men are this wicked and if so, why the gods still care for this world. Nicos approaches, the one armed bard swaggering despite his brush with death. A wry smile curves the corner of his mouth.

“Nicos,” Cadrius says. “I see some things never change.”

“You have good timing.” Nicos cocks an eyebrow. “Do you really know the captain?”

Cadrius casts a glance at the dispersed, receding crowd and shrugs. “Whether I know him or not we should leave this place. Now. Blarth, it is good to see you again. Come along. We can catch up on the way.”

itches

14th of July, 2009, 21:08

With the immediate danger gone, Nicos became aware of his heart beating a staccato rhythm within his chest and a cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck. The sudden urge to laugh welled within him, a heady surge of relief from escaping intimate violence. With some effort he managed to suppress it and sauntered over to Cadrius.

“Nicos,” Cadrius says. “I see some things never change.”

“You have good timing.” Nicos cocks an eyebrow. “Do you really know the captain?”

“Whether I know him or not we should leave this place. Now. Blarth, it is good to see you again. Come along. We can catch up on the way.”

"It's hella amusing," the bard commented making no effort to move on. "To see you sway a mob away from violence." The memory of his first encounter with dour sellsword in Karkas arose fresh to mind, the trial and general riot that had been its companion. Less then a year had passed since those events, but they seemed a lifetime ago.

"We still have a slight problem" Nicos hedged. "We were meant to meet some friends a few days ago, but they seemed to have gone missing. Somehow I doubt that it's a coincidence that the rabble happened to be here hunting for Orcs."

The bard paused, his dramatic instincts timing the gap before adding the next bit.

"Shade was one of them."

During their journey to the hidden mage citadel, Nicos had harboured the suspicion that the pair had entertained a secret tryst, but if the look that crossed Cadrius' face contained any clues, he wasn't able to read it.

"And if that wasn't enough," Nicos continued after another dramatic pause, shifting his attention to Isaac. "I'm praying the others don't look half as dead as you do."

Gralhruk

15th of July, 2009, 02:50

"Shade is still one of them."

Her voice is tight - controlled, but with an edge that indicates suppressed anger - as the two enter the clearing. Shade moves with grim economy, her monstrous hand carefully concealed beneath her cloak. At her side, Arjuna looks relieved to see the others but there is tension in her brow.

"And I'll show you half - ", she begins with a hint of her old determination. She breaks off suddenly, staring at the man speaking to Nicos. Such is her surprise that she very nearly takes a step backward. Instead, her face loses all expression, becoming a pallid mask. Above the harsh line of her scar, her eyes seethe in turmoil.

"Cadrius."

Her thoughts whirl suddenly, bitterness shot through with regret. Why was he here? Anger flares, born of fear. She was a monster, with death hovering near even now. She is aware of his eyes on her, and within, an urge to flee this place and his judgment. Through it all flows the sick, dull heat of her rage as it consumes her flesh and her soul.

Black Plauge

16th of July, 2009, 02:20

Turning to look at Cadrius when he first announced himself had probably been a bad idea. It had allowed some members of the mob a chance to see his face and confirm that he was at least part orc. Blarth's surprise and Cadrius' unexpected return, however, had made the move almost involuntary and Cadrius had been able to disperse the crowd despite it.

Turning to see Shade when she walked into the clearing, however, was definitely a bad idea.

"Death which is not death," Blarth mutters in orcish when he sees her. Her aura bears it clearly now: fully developed and no longer held in check by Isac's healing magic. There was no denying it and his tribes traditions were clear on the course of action.

Grabbing his club, Blarth raises it over his head as he starts towards Shade, fully prepared to burst her head like an overripe melon. Her eyes flicker to him, their gazes lock, and Blarth's actions are halted by what he sees there.

It is not the rage... No, not rage, Blarth new and controlled rage himself. This was anger, unbridled hate, the unrestrained hate of the thing that Shade was becoming. It is what was behind that that stopped him. The fear, the grit, and the resignation that he saw which stopped him.

Fear. Fear of what she would become, of what she would do when she fully succumbed to hate. The fear that Shade would never let show if she had anything to say about it.

Grit. The determination to fight that so characterized the Shade that he knew. Her will to live, was so like what he had experienced around him growing up and was what continually drew him to her.

Resignation. The recognition of what Blarth meant to do and the acceptance that it was the right thing to do.

Those three emotions showed more than anything that Shade was not gone yet. That there still was a chance to lift the curse before it consumed her and Blarth clung to that chance.

Lowering his arms slowly, Blarth lets his club drop to the ground. Taking the dream root from his belt pouch, Blarth turns his back on Shade, unwilling to look at what she is becoming, and moves to Isac's side.

"Do what you can for her," he says, turning over the dream root. "Before I am forced to do what must be done."

Still careful to keep his back to Shade, Blarth sits at the side of the fire ring again, his eyes focusing on the charcoal and ash remnants, shutting out the world around him.

-J-

17th of July, 2009, 08:51

Isac's heart freezes as he watches the half-orc raise his club to strike. Hate wells up in him as the beast's tusked visage leers at him. The lash and worse had beat a hatred for the goblin so deep into his soul that even now, after so many years, its strength surprised him. Under his shirt his sunburst tattoo burns with wrath as the thin priest reaches out to the divine.

Pelor is the Light that purifies, the Flame that burns the unclean.

His chest feels on fire as he channels the wrath of the Sun God through the sigils in his flesh. Black markings made from the ashes of St. Auric the Deliverer and etched into his skin with the sharpened finger bone of St. Sebastian the Purifier. Holy symbols that connected him bodily to the divine and branded him as a ieros poliemitz - a holy warrior of Thuranoc.

He takes a half step towards the orc, the hot kiss of divine magics nascent on his soul, and murder on his mind.

Then, a gold disk flashes in Juni's hand.

Sheolign

Isac's rage evaporates like mist, revealing the truth.

It wasn't Blarth that he hated, it was himself.

Blarth wasn't the one who violated cannon law.

Blarth wasn't the one who let the weakness of the flesh cloud his mind to his duty.

Blarth wasn't the one who let them all die.

"Do what you can for her, before I am forced to do what I must." Coarse fingers push the tuber into Isac's hand.

The priest stares at the dried herb mutely, his mind still numb from his insight, and the knowledge of what must be done.

Cadrius

24th of July, 2009, 15:18

“Shade.”

He hasn’t thought of his scripture in years. It was branded in his soul as a youth. Hands clasped, the children of his father’s house were taught the catechisms by an old woman with thin hair and frail fingers. She had served his three generations as a wetnurse, a midwife, and a seamstress. Ravaged by time, her hands had lost their strength and their way. Yet they could still hold a book, and while her eyes might have failed, she knew all of the verses by heart. A zealous woman, she brooked no mischief, real or imagined, while she read of the Archpaladin.

Save your flock from these travails
and keep the wolves at bay.

“I did not expect to see you here,” he says.

She had left without warning, abandoning their rag-tag company in his hands. A motley crew indeed, it appeared that each member of the outfit bore far too much history. Some brooded over it by the fire while others masked it with bluster and games. He resented her for that desertion then, not because he needed her there, but because he had wanted her to stay. Cadrius had believed she could change. He was wrong.

In the end even Cadrius had left them. He believed he had waited until they were safe and capable of finding their own way. Perhaps he was right. Or perhaps he had needed someone to guide. His hubris was his doom, as it ever has been.

Forgive the evil we have wrought
and save us from the evil that lurks.

His face is not stern. It does not judge. Uncertain of what emotion to feel, his face simply is. The fallen paladin has learned that he is not responsible for another’s redemption. He cannot even save himself. He can’t save her. There is but one purpose left for him. Cadrius is not a redeemer, but maybe he can still be a protector. Shade’s face bears the same chill it always has. The placidity is her fury. Its stillness is a threat.

There is an unspoken current that ripples between them. Isac, Blarth, Shade, and Nicos all fear something. It looms large and weighs heavy on their shoulders. Yet it is not Cadrius’ concern, and cannot be his burden. The safety of Sarra is paramount. He will not fail. Not this time.

“We need to go.”

Kelemyn

26th of July, 2009, 21:10

Juni holds the sunburst medallion in her hand as she walks toward Isac. His sudden, unlooked-for appearance at the end of this day of grief and fear brightens her spirit and somehow fills her with hope again.

"You lost this," she says with a small, careworn smile as she offers him the holy symbol. She wants to ask what happened to him, how he'd managed to survive. But Shade's need is too great.

"You must help her," she whispers, for his ears only. "Her hand... The curse... it will overpower her soon."

Gralhruk

28th of July, 2009, 03:43

In the long moment before Cadrius answers, Shade's eyes lock with Blarth. It was as if the half-orc could see right through her, into the rotting core of her being. He knew, and he could not abide it, any more than she could. Unlike Juni, there was no uncertainty in Blarth, no room to let sentiment stand in the way of doing what was necessary for survival. Her very flesh was an abomination, and one that needed to be exterminated out before it killed them.

It should not have surprised her - Blarth had always proven capable, especially in a crisis. He'd healed her and others just as easily as he'd slain foes with his might and that massive club. Yet she'd always seen him as child like, and the realization that she could be the source of such a brutal reaction in him left her feeling ill, yet for all that she doesn't flinch away.

Better a swift death than an agonizing journey into madness and necromancy.

Yet the moment stretches and instead of coming closer, Blarth abruptly turns his back and stalks away. Shade is left feeling vile and unclean as she looks back to Cadrius. He seems perturbed - clearly not understanding the situation, but also clearly not wanting to.

His face barely changes, remaining a serious mask, and the few words he spares for her cut like a rain of razors. She hadn't expected him to cry with happiness, but neither had she expected such an emotionless meeting. Her steely eyes notice his companion for the first time - a young girl, plain but pretty, with dark doe eyes. Jealousy stabs her with cunning glee. She didn't know what she had expected, but she should have prepared herself for the cold truth. The world was a hard, unfair place, as it had ever been.

"Yes," she says with as little expression as she can, "time is always short."

-J-

28th of July, 2009, 09:47

Isac holds the heavy brass sunburst in a trembling hand, his mind awash in nostalgia, his throat thick with loss. A single tear cuts through the layers of road dust as he stares mutely at the returned holy symbol.

"I never expected..." he says quietly to no one.

"Thank you Juni."

He looks at the gray root in his right hand and the Pelorian sunburst in his left, then finally at Shade. Corruption hangs on her shoulders like a cloak.

Juni is right, they didn't have much time.

"I need some chickens...and a big fire."

Cadrius

28th of July, 2009, 14:00

They should be leaving. The specter of the angry mob has not been banished, merely delayed. Sooner, and not later, these fools will act on their hatred. Many will die, but in the end they will have the object of their fear. Blarth will be taken and hanged, or perhaps quartered, or perhaps staked and burned. It matters not how they kill only that they kill. It will slake their blood-thirst for a time—perhaps a week, perhaps a season—but sooner, and not later, they will find another reason to slay another half-breed.

Cadrius knows this as surely as he knows the hills of Somerest. It is why every part of his soul begs him to flight; to take Sarra, and any others that will come, and run. Some of the faces are unknown to him, the woman with Shade and the girl behind Nicos’ shoulder, but if they consort with this company then they may as well traffic with demons. Death is ever their faithful companion. Cadrius knows for he has walked many leagues down that dark, thicketed road.

Yet they should know it too, and do not move to flee. A crease knits his brow. There is something wrong. He knew this before, but it is grave indeed to keep Shade, the consummate survivor, rooted in spot. Given how she had parted company before, the situation must be dire for her to fall in with people again.

The fallen paladin frowns. His stride is slow as he crosses the ground back to Sarra. The girl’s eyes flit from stranger to stranger and back to him. She loves Cadrius not at all for his warding. Her life was shattered the night he was taken in and offered food and hearth. Perhaps she is right. It could very well be that he was the cause of all this suffering. The plague could be following him. Killing and then twisting and defiling the dead and raising them again as abominations. Yet despite this, Sarra also knows she has no one but this sad excuse for a knight and a man to keep her safe—at least until she can find a big enough city to get lost in. Cadrius does not fool himself on that regard. She will disappear into a thronging crowd the first chance she has. He fears for what will become of her there, in that city or port town that she hides in. Neither the streets nor the docks will be kind to her. Cadrius makes a note to keep a closer eye on her. Yet all of this worry will be for naught is they are killed here in this border town.

"I need some chickens...and a big fire."

Isac does not strike him the fool so it cannot be dinner that he is proposing. No, it is the mark of Morning Lord. This holy man looks to call on the sun’s sacrament for a blessing or boon. Cadrius’ skin crawls. There is something very wrong here. He can feel it now, a black hound sniffing at the edges of their mortality.

“A ritual,” Cadrius says. His eyes sweep from man to woman. He doesn’t like what greets him. “For who?”

itches

28th of July, 2009, 15:14

Nicos stirred as the sharp edge of violence receded a step from the group, leaving a dark intensity to swirl between them all.

"Maybe we should move on," he offered softly. "There are some farmsteads around the city that we could ..."

His voice trailed off before he could complete the thought, eyes drawn despite himself to Shade. The thought of the curse that ate away at her sent his flesh crawling in fear, doubled for to his eyes she now looked more akin to some horror he would make up to scare naive village girls then the strong women he had known.

He tried to tell himself that her pallid skin and gaunt frame could be the result of more mundane dooms, that she had always possessed intense angry eyes, that Juni looked just as ill treated without the pallor of undeath.

With a repressed shudder he tore his eyes away, a vain attempt to burry the image and ignore the sweet scent of rotting flesh he was sure only he could smell.

"A farmstead," he concluded trying to rehook the end of his thought without success.

-J-

29th of July, 2009, 09:02

Isac meets Cadrius' gaze then his eyes dart to Shade and back.

"It's a ritual to draw out the curse," the thin priest says in a low voice "at least in theory." He turns and moves to Shade's side. Putting a warm hand on her back he bends close to her ear. "It's dangerous. There's a good chance that you will not make it through."

Gralhruk

30th of July, 2009, 23:15

Shade glares, overwhelmed by the forces vying for her compromised attention. This brief reunion with Cadrius had brought only jealousy and bitterness, reminding her of dreams best forgotten. It was nearly enough to bury the shock and immense relief at finding Isac - alive and still trying to help her survive - in stark contrast to Blarth's loathing and grim fatality. Through it all surged the pounding sea of rage.

Eyes like molten lead in a gaunt face, skin stretched taught over bone, she stares at the priest. Success meant only a brief respite from torment, she knew, and it occurs to her that failure was not so unattractive as all that. There was a time where it might have mattered to her, but now she only gives a curt nod.

Do what you must.

Black Plauge

31st of July, 2009, 00:34

"Northwest," Blarth states without raising his eyes from the charcoal and ash he stirs. As the others look at him for an explanation he stirs the coals, seemingly unaware of their eyes. Finally, as a red coal gets stirred to the surface, the motion of Blarth's stick stops and he finally elaborates.

"The farms to the south are the larger share holds of nobles and merchants which raise crops which can be stored and sold for much money. We'd find no chickens and many questions there. To the north, closer to Enderin the farms were smaller, more likely family farms which raise all the necessities of life."

Pausing, Blarth stares at the dieing ember, the exposure to the air making it burn brighter momentarily, but also cooling it so that it dims and goes out.

"Plus with the oncoming winter, the smaller farmers will be shoring things up and preparing for several months of isolation. Any questions that would follow from our presence will wait until spring."

Standing, Blarth gathers up his bedroll and club, carefully avoiding looking at Shade. Hopefully strength enough remained to her to survive the ritual Isac proposed.

-J-

31st of July, 2009, 03:25

"Alright then," Isac says nodding back.

"The ritual is dangerous and not just to Shade - We'll need someplace isolated...away from people. I arranged for a local store to prepare the rest of the materials we need before we were delayed at Ricard's. The site must also be prepared - I'll need a circle at least ten paces wide cleared of anything living with a fire hot enough to melt iron in its center.

"So," he continues "I need someone to help me prepare Shade, we need someone to go find and prepare the site, and someone to pick up the rest of the supplies. And we need all of this to happen before sunrise."

Black Plauge

7th of August, 2009, 02:24

"How sterile does the circle need to be?" Blarth asks, surprising everyone with his grasp of the ritual preparations Isac refers to.

"Is clearing the circle of animals sufficient, or do you need to clear plant life too? Or do you need the sterility that only fire can bring?"

-J-

7th of August, 2009, 05:07

"Burned. The earth should be completely blackened. There should be several barrels of oil in with the supplies." With a nod he beckons Juni to follow.

"Send someone to the inn to collect us when the site is prepared," he adds over his shoulder and with a gentle hand he begins to guide Shade to the inn.

Black Plauge

7th of August, 2009, 05:32

"What inn?" Blarth asks, increduously at Isac's back, "In case you hadn't noticed several of us aren't exactly welcome in Tradeholm anymore. Some one needs to go retrieve the supplies you had prepared, and maybe a wagon to carry them, and then we need to get out of here."

-J-

7th of August, 2009, 07:07

"Sorry, the inn just inside the west gate," Isac says nodding towards town. "I told the merchant that the supplies would be picked up by one of my companions, just tell him that you're there on behalf of Isac Moore. There should be a wagon and a mule for us as well. It probably will only take one of you to pick them up."

Cadrius

12th of August, 2009, 15:13

They bicker and squabble as dogs do, tearing apart a haunch of meat from bone. Yet Cadrius hears naught but the faintest growl and bark. His eyes are seized and held by Shade’s. Her gaze burns like molten steel. They betray nothing but a brief flash of emotion. Not fear. No, the Shade that Cadrius knows is beyond such mortal affairs. Time and again he had watched her stare down death with an unnatural calm. Nor is it an apology. She is as unforgiving as the white squalls that oft swept the coastlines of Somerest.

He can feel it now. Something is wrong with her. It hides, unseen, but its corruption wears on his very soul. It is not the searing pain of the divine that he once knew. Such gifts, if they could be called such a thing, drove a knight of the Invincible to the brink of madness—until all he could think of was to end the evil before him. What he can feel here is different. It is subtle. It creeps and slithers and stays just out of sight, but it is there all the same and it is biding its time before emerging from the muck.

“Gods, Shade,” he says, sliding himself between her and Sarra. As if the mere presence of flesh and blood can ward the young girl. “What has happened to you?”

Black Plauge

14th of August, 2009, 01:00

Not believing that Isac can be so callous about what just happened, Blarth responds sarcastically, "Did you buy a plot of land too? I seriously doubt any of the land here close to Tradeholm isn't owned by somebody who wouldn't care about the potential destruction you're proposing. A fire 10 paces across will bring another mob down on us like flies to a fresh kill. We will need to travel for several days before we find land which is suitably deserted for what you propose."

-J-

14th of August, 2009, 04:38

Isac stops, a weary sigh rolling over his lips. There was simply too much to do, and not enough time. Cadrius had related to Isac the fate of the small village consumed by plague. Although he couldn't be completely sure with out examining one of the bodies, he suspected that it was the work of the goblin witch. It was truly divine will that protected Cadrius and Sarra from the witch's power, but by now the rest of the town would have risen under her control. Innocent souls shackled to rotting flesh, bound from beyond death by black Harappan curse-craft.

They would be here within three days at the latest, and Shade will be one of them within two. The teeth of impending doom gnawing at his guts sharpens his tongue more than he would have liked.

"Oh I see. You're more than willing enough to cave in the skull of your companion, but when it comes to doing something that might actually save her we suddenly lack the will to try. That's fine - I'll take care of it when I finish with Shade."

Kelemyn

14th of August, 2009, 11:05

Juni's eyes narrow with dislike, and she strides forward to stand at Shade's side. Who is this haughty stranger anyway?

No, not a stranger... She'd heard him call Shade by name. And the rogue's glare is even more stony than usual. There is history between the two. A former traveling companion perhaps? Or something more?

It doesn't matter.

"There is no call for any of that," Juni pipes up, defensively. "Shade is not going to hurt anyone here."

Are you sure about that?

Shut up.

"But if you are so worried about the child," she continues, nodding at the girl standing in the shelter of the man's shadow, "by all means, go. Your help is not required."

Cadrius

15th of August, 2009, 09:20

The squabbling becomes too much. It demands his attention. Cadrius wrenches his gaze from Shade’s stony visage and flicks between Blarth and the priest before settling on the young woman to Shade’s side. She is right. Cadrius’ help is not required. Whatever has happened if a Morning Lord’s ritual is required it is far beyond what meager might this fallen paladin possesses. Morbid thoughts dance through his head. Perhaps Shade has caught a disease, one of those that waste the body from within. They are known to the south, but who is to say a merchant or traveler did not bring the plague up to the ends of civilization here. He glances at Shade again, wishing he could see the evil eating her from within.

In the old days, the time before his fall, Cadrius would have fixed her, purged the pox from her body. Channeling the divine was euphoria that had no equal. It burned hotter than whiskey and truer that the flame at the forge. For the briefest heartbeat, Cadrius was a conduit through which the Invincible worked good into this dark world. He was the instrument of justice and all that was still righteous. It gave him purpose. It made him better than the weak sack of flesh that he was. For just that moment, Cadrius was perfect. The return to mortality was always bitter.

“You are right. I am no healer. You do not require my aid,” Cadrius says.

The last time he had cured a soul was four winters ago. Being a Fist of Heironeous he rode on patrol with his father’s men along the borders of Somerest. He was never in charge, but most paid him the same deference as they would a lieutenant or even their captain. At night Cadrius slept in his own tent or room and supped with the other officers. By day he rode at the front of the column, eyes keen for brigands, or worse, enemy companies.
When the crimson fever had struck the village of Salmouth, Cadrius and the second company had been deployed ahead of the healers and physicians to maintain order. Most of the men kept a safe distance, forming a perimeter around the town. Blessed as he was, Cadrius had ventured inward.

Salmouth had been hit hard by the fever. It was dusk. Few stirred in the streets between the quay and the hovels and thatch roofed houses. He must have made the sight, a knight clad in shining mail, marching into Pestilence’s Lair. The villagers hid, terrified of the armed men surrounding their town.

Burn it to the ground and the fever cannot spread further. He banished the black thought and prayed to Heironeous for strength and forgiveness.

In a tavern, Cadrius found the proprietor cradling his fever-struck wife. Her skin was flushed to the point where Cadrius would have sworn she had been burned. The sickness had her in its grasp and was wringing every ounce of her strength. A small smile touched his lips. It would not win today. Not this one.

The divine spark smoldering in his soul was fanned into a flame and he passed it through his hands, and into the breast of the innkeep’s wife. She gasped, eyes fluttering, and the crimson fled. The man threw his arms around his wife and then Cadrius, nearly crushing the young paladin in his armor. Tears were in the man’s eyes and he promised that Cadrius would never pay for another drink.

Cadrius smiled and nodded his head in thanks. Spirits were forbidden among the Fists.

Word spread as quickly as the plague had. There was a young healer who could cure the sick and bring them back from the brink of the neverafter. Within an hour, a dozen villagers stumbled or were dragged into the tavern. Cadrius saw to them, channeling the light of the Invincible into each of them. But the flesh is weak, and he could only do so much. Each time he opened the door to that empyrean realm, it burned a piece of him. By midnight he could no longer stand. By two he lost the use of his arms, and still more came. Children were set before him. He could not do it. He could not open that door again. It would consume him. A little girl, no more than six, died in his arms as he struggled to make the connection again. He hadn’t the strength to cry and instead collapsed into oblivion.

A hundred died in the fever’s outbreak at Salmouth. When the healers and priests arrived the next morning they extolled Cadrius’ spirit, claiming many more would have fallen ill and perished if not for him. But Cadrius could not forget the chestnut eyes that had lolled back in her head as her little soul slipped away. Nor could he forget her mother’s wracking sobs as she lost her only child.

He no longer has such gifts, is no longer favored by the divine. He cannot risk Sarra to the pox that holds Shade, but he cannot abandon her either.

“We camped along the river south of here last night, near where I found your friend Isac,” Cadrius says. “The trees grow tall there. The smoke from a fire may be noticed, or it may not. I could show you the way, if you like.”

Black Plauge

18th of August, 2009, 02:01

It's not saving her if we are all killed in the process. Blarth wants to respond to Isac hotly, but the words die on his lips as Cadrius speaks.

"We camped along the river south of here last night, near where I found your friend Isac. The trees grow tall there. The smoke from a fire may be noticed, or it may not. I could show you the way, if you like."

Accepting Cadrius' suggestion, Blarth sighs and turns from the confrontation with Isac, "No, you're the least likely to attract unwanted attention in Tradeholm now. If you can draw me a map, or at least describe the place well enough, I should be able to find it."

Gralhruk

18th of August, 2009, 04:27

You do not require my aid

The words skim across her mind like bats rending the night sky but it is his gaze that ignites her smouldering rage, sends a sheet of fire roaring down her spine and into her gut. Pity and loathing, after all she had sacrificed and all the pains she had been forced to endure. As if this were her choosing.

She lunges - a rabid, feral, animal - choking on the bile of her unclean anger. Arjuna is in the way; Shade is halfway between shoving her aside and climbing over her when Isac seizes her around the shoulders, his wiry arms surprisingly powerful. Her left hand twitches uncontrollably and for a moment she fears that she's let it go too far - strong as he is, she knows she can break his grip in an instant. Nearby, Blarth wheels back around, hand tightening on his club.

With an incoherent shout, she lets the priest spin her around but not before she sees the terror on Sarra's face or the disgust on Cadrius'. Better that way. Seething with barely contained hate, she looks up into Blarth's muddy eyes, wondering if he'll kill her for this outburst. The idea didn't bother her as much as it had a few moments ago.

Black Plauge

19th of August, 2009, 02:21

His attention drawn involuntarily to Shade by her outburst, Blarth instinctively grabs for his club, his knuckles going white on the grip.

She is further gone than I had hoped.

"Release her," Blarth commands Isac, "Her soul is worth far more than her life. At least let me save that."

itches

19th of August, 2009, 15:40

Shade's violent lunge finally roused Nicos to action, stepping forward to lay a hand on Blarth's shoulder. He didn't fully understand the half-orc, but over time he had come to like and appreciate his savage, uncomplicated and somehow innocent view of the world.

"Blarth, no. There is still hope. We can save her, body mind and soul. Look at her eyes, she is still there, still fighting. If she hasn't given up how can we?"

-J-

20th of August, 2009, 02:52

Isac's sea-green eyes wash over the cold flint of Shade's - ocean and stone, the unstoppable and the immovable.

"Calm..." he breathes "...calm." The elven sundisk around his neck shimmers with the light of the Sunlord. "Remember who you are..." A soft warmth fills her bosom and clears her mind.

"Good....good...." A great weariness fills the dark haired rogue, her inner conflict sapping her of everything, including her humanity. Only her indomitable will keeps that turmoil from spilling onto her face.

"Lets go," he says nodding to Juni. He wraps an arm around her against her protestations and leads her away.

Black Plauge

21st of August, 2009, 04:47

Trepidaciously Blarth looks from Nicos, to Isac, to Shade and back again several times before lowering his club.

"You had better be right," he mutters as he turns away, letting Isac, Shade, and Juni head towards Tradeholm.

It is only once they have disappeared under the tree line that Blarth turns back to face those who remain again.

"How do we find this site that you propose?" Blarth asks, his eyes locking with Cadrius's.

-J-

25th of August, 2009, 06:48

Inn of the Red Manticore
West Gate
Tradeholm

"Are you ready?" Isac asks softly as he leans over Shade's naked form. The room was cool, yet sweat glistened on her pallid skin. She gives a short nod, the muscles of her jaw quivering like taught cables as she bites down on the strip of leather in her mouth. With out saying anything Isac gives Juni nod.

It was time.

Isac had spent the last few hours going through each of their roles, and preparing the room. Small bowls of herbs are neatly arranged on makeshift table to his right. Behind and to his left a small fire blazes under a cast iron pot in the room's hearth. Shade lies shivering on the bed in front of him, with Juni beyond. Even in the dim light fire light her arm is a monstrously bloated and carbuncled mass of rotting, necrotic flesh.

A low hum fills the room as Isac begins a Harappan chant, layering harmonic tones upon the base sound until a six note chord was reached. With dance like motions he takes a bundle of sage, dips it a pungent wash of wine and herbs and begins sprinkling Shades skin. With shaking hands, Juni lights a damp lump of freshly ground herbs. Thick tendrils of smoke snake through the air, working their soporific coils into the pale-haired seer's lungs. Struggling through the incense's effect, she traces the symbols Isac had shown her in the air.

Serpent...the bringer of wisdom.

Time becomes meaningless as the world around her seems to fold in on itself. Moments trickle by with a slowness that leaves ghostly after-images of their passing, and then spring forward so quickly that she cannot remember what happened. One moment Isac is dancing and chanting, the next he's at the table draining blood from the decapitated body of a black feathered rooster into a large bowl.

Dog...the guardian of the gate.

Red drops glitter in the fire light and float downward like large, sanguinous soap bubbles. She watches as the carmine fluid pulsates in the air before splashing into bloody sea below. Her eyelids fall like sheets of lead maille, shutting for just a moment. When she opens them the Pelorian is crouched over Shade's naked torso tattooing goblin glyphs into her skin with a sharpened bone. He was still chanting, the drone of his throat singing washing over her in narcotic waves.

Lotus...the gateway to eternity.

Glyphs cover every inch of Shade's body except a perfect ring around her bellybutton. Isac's hands ripple and wave around that last patch of skin like a willow in the wind. His chanting grows in intensity, and from the table next to him he takes a plain looking white egg and sets the tip of it against the divot of her navel. His whole body begins to undulate as he works the egg deeper and deeper into Shade's stomach. With a final barking shout he drives the egg home, its final plunge dragging the bloody goblin runes across her flesh and into her gut, leaving her pale skin clean and unblemished. Shade's body arcs rigidly then goes completely limp.

J & Kel

Black Plauge

30th of September, 2009, 01:46

"I had to suggest map drawing..." Blarth mutters as he guides Nicos and Lynn towards the copse of trees Cadrius had described. It had rather quickly become clear that Cadrius was not only more familiar with maps than Blarth, but he also was used to the way humans used them, a skill the Blarth had never quite mastered. He relied on maps to provide the landmarks and way-points that any good set of directions needed. Cadrius, however, thought in terms of distances and directions when using a map. Sure, those distances and directions had to be based on some landmarks, but often enough the distances and directions were such that you couldn't actually see one landmark from another or even the destination. Humans seemed to think that if you knew where things were in relation to each other, then you could get from one place to another. They seemed to forget that there could be vast spaces in between, spaces which you had to travel through and the knowledge of which could be crucial to actually reaching your destination.

Still, the land around Tradeholm, as with most human cities, was mostly farmland with just a few large stands of trees and the river had made for a fairly prominent, and extended, landmark. As a result, Blarth was able to figure out how to get to Cadrius's stand of trees, even if the route taken wasn't the best. One farmer in particular had seemed very upset when Blarth had moved to cut across his field.

Once at the copse, things start to develop much more smoothly. Finding an area big enough to meet Isac's specifications but which doesn't have any trees or stumps larger than the inch or two diameter that could easily be cleared away takes some time, but the copse is not a popular spot and Blarth, Nicos, and Lynn able to search relatively undisturbed. In the end, it is Nicos who finds the area, a fact which he promptly uses as an excuse to take charge and supervise the work. Another human convention that Blarth has never understood; it seems to him that supervising is simply an excuse for some one to avoid the hardest work.

* * *

“You know them.”

Sarra struggles along next to him, her short legs doubling in pace to keep step with his strides. Her rough-spun dress is dirty from the days of hard travel. He makes a note to check how much coin they have left and whether he could afford the girl a new dress or two. Not here, of course, it was risk enough for them to return to Tradeholm after the confrontation with the mob earlier. Cadrius hopes what little fortune has smiled on him lo these many cursed years will at least turn his way for a little while.

That the girl is speaking at all is a miracle. She had been catatonic those first few days after the plague had overrun her village and Cadrius feared he would have to carry her as an invalid. By the fourth day she was able to feed herself, but spent her hours dully staring ahead be it at the fire or a tree or nothing at all. Once he had finally grown confident that they were not diseased and had decided to press on to civilization she had been able to follow simple instructions. Yet she would not speak, would not look him in the eye. He couldn’t blame her for it. Perhaps he had brought that terrible pox down upon her kith and kindred.

His mouth twists. He cares not if Sarra loves him for the duty he has undertaken. It is for her good. She now bears the weight of all the departed on her. If she dies then all trace and memory will have fled like shadows before the dawn.

“I do.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I do not know,” he says.

“Is she sick?”

“I do not think so,” he lies. Cadrius understands the girl’s fears all too well. “She would need a healer if she were sick.”

“He’s a priest.”

Cadrius says nothing. One does not require a Morning Lord without dire cause. He knows not what this will require.

They do not enter by the main gate to the southeastern side of the town. Their coming and going will have drawn too much attention as is. Instead, they circle around to the north side of the town and pass through the farmer’s gate. The guards there are curious but a pair of silver stags pressed into their palms reminds them that they have other duties to tend to.He keeps their pace brisk without being too swift as they skirt along the wall that runs down toward the western gate. The inn is a bit of a ramshackle business with gaps in the roofing and sagging boards along the front, but its keeper is discrete and does not give Cadrius any trouble when he announces he is there to collect on behalf of Isac Moore.

An hour later they are on their way south from Tradeholm again, the fallen knight and the orphan daughter. The reins are slack in his hands as the mule diligently pulling the wagon along. In another life, he may have been a farmer going to market with his daughter. He sneaks a glance at Sarra sitting on his right, staring at the river as the mule plods along the rough trail. She would have made a fine daughter, one sure to have done Eadgar and Heleyne proud. But there is a shadow that lurks just behind her eyes. Cadrius worries it will harry her the rest of her days. He is determined to not let it be so. He can save her from a life of ghosts.

Can’t he?

Lost in their thoughts, the two arrive back at the copse of trees in silence.

* * *

Lynn trudged through the undergrowth of the forest, stumbling every few seconds as a malcontent plants snared her feet with their limbs. After Nicos had found the site for the ritual, Blarth, Nicos and herself had set to preparing it with a level of toil that the young woman’s past experiences had not prepared her for.

Her hands, more used to caressing instruments than swinging pickaxe and hoe, were covered in blisters, muscles radiated hot pain for the first time in her life, sweat stung at her eyes as it dripped from her forehead and soft shoes rubbed uncomfortably against her feet – it was only an act of stubborn willfulness to saved her from falling into a limp.

As the work had progressed and her energy flagged, Lynn had found herself growing ever more irritated and angry at Nicos when he would make a ‘suggestion’ from his self appointed role as supervisor. It had not escaped her notice that he had managed to avoid the more strenuous activities Blarth and herself attempted. As the time for Cadrius and Sarra to meet them approached, Lynn escaped with the excuse of guiding the pair to the ritual site, leading to her walking tired and alone through the woods.

The sound of a cleared throat snapped the young woman from her internal contemplations of suffering, and she uttered a soft curse. She had almost walked past Cadrius and Sarra, despite the wagon upon which that sat. Gazing upon the powerfully countenanced man with sorrowful eyes, Lynn tugged at her gray blouse with discomfort and rubbed dirt stained hands against her skirt. She resisted the inexplicable urge to run fingers through her hair, as from nowhere the thought of how she must appear, sweat and dirt stained, ran across her mind.

“We’ll never get the wagon there,” she sighed. “We’ll have to carry the supplies.”

The influence of approaching exhaustion made the trip seem to take hours, but in the end they all survived the return journey. A filthy Blarth and far from clean Nicos were awaiting them, resting in the shade of an overhanging tree. Another surge of tired irritation rose within Lynn before she pushed it back down.

Nicos’ eyes flicked over, meeting her own for a few moments before shifting over to Cadrius.

“We’re ready,” he said, pulling himself to his feet with a practiced languid grace. “We just need to fire the site and wait for the others.”

Collaborative effort by Black Plauge, Cadrius, and itches.

Gralhruk

6th of November, 2009, 00:13

The creak of the oars, the gentle rolling of the sea. The world swam before her eyes as Shade swam through the fog within her mind, aware that her head was pillowed on another's lap. Above her, dimly, she could make out a woman's face, long blond hair, bright blue eyes.

Mom?

She tries to mumble, but no sound comes out. She shifts her body, not quite thrashing, fighting down a sudden panic as something twists inside of her. A hand soothes her hair, lends comfort where there was none before.

"Where . . . am I?"

Her voice sounded far off, even in her own ears. Looking up again, she notices that it isn't her mother after all, even as she realizes that it could never be her. Arjuna, she thinks, beginning to remember. A jolt as the small cart hits a rut shatters the misconception of seas and ships; more memories see the light of dawn.

The curse.

The ritual.

Gralhruk

17th of November, 2009, 01:19

Nicos met them about a mile from the site. The cart was considerably smaller than the wagon they had used to transport the supplies and following the path that Nicos had scouted out they were able to make it all the way to the freshly burned clearing. The cart rolled to a jerky stop.

After a moment, Shade could hear Isac speaking to the others but she could not make out his words. Not that she cared at this point. Waves of heat, and cold, and pain coursed through her at random intervals. She tried to focus on Arjuna, holding tightly to her good hand. The voices stopped, and then the gaunt priest was there, helping her step down to the ground. The look in his eyes was unreadable; she tried not to guess at why. Her bare toes squirm in the still warm layer of ash and she pulls the cloak tighter around her naked shoulders.

With a nod of encouragement to Shade, Isac produces a heavy leather sack from the cart and begins to pour its contents int a circle around the freshly burned clearing. The white powder sparkles in the angry firelight. The powder is nothing more than ground salt and lead, but in the theurgy of goblin magics their powers were absolute.

Salt representing pure, crystallized life force, and lead representing the rarefied essence of the earth. Together they were anathema the corruptive haecceity of the curse.

Once the circle is complete, the thin priest grabs the burlap sack containing the squirming bundle of bound chickens and drops them just outside the glittering ring. He then leads Shade into the circle, and turns her toward him.

"Are you ready?" he asks in a low voice.

For an answer she straightens her spine and fixes him with steely eyes unwavering. She nods quickly, jaw clenched.

by J, Gral, Kel, and Cadrius

Gralhruk

1st of December, 2009, 02:18

Isac draws the cloak from her shoulders exposing the black, monstrously deformed flesh of her left arm. Shivering in spite of the roaring fire behind her, Shade sets her jaw in anticipation.

Reaching across the white line of the circle Isac grips her shoulder and once again pushes his right hand deep into her abdomen. Shade's eyes roll in her head as her naked form convulses. A low chant rumbles from the priest's throat as he works his arm in almost to the elbow. The two hang there, bodies swaying and jerking to the rhythm of goblin verse. The chanting builds into a long sustained note, and Shade's limbs go rigid. Isac's muscles stand out in knotted cords as he struggles to pull his limb free.

Then suddenly something gives and the two fly apart - Shade collapsing in a heap, and Isac stumbling back into Cadrius.

"Thanks," he says weakly as the knight helps him to his feet. "Juni," he nods the seer over. "Take this," he opens his hand revealing a wet, dimly glowing egg covered with minute goblin glyphs.

"What..." she gently cradles the warm ovoid, surprised that it wasn't covered with blood - both the egg and Isac's arm glisten with some silvery fluid.

"Keep it safe. If things don't turn out tonight, you must take this to the temple of Pelor in Keserin. Ask for a priest name Bickman, he'll know what to do."

"But you..." she starts then stops as she realized what he was saying. Things not turning out meant that they both would be dead. Her eyes go wide as she looks at the frail egg in her hand. Backlight swirls of shadow churn beneath egg's surface like clouds passing before the sun. "Then this..."

"...is Shade's soul." A hush falls over the clearing.

"You killed her?" Cadrius's asks slowly, his voice thickening with anger.

"No. Sort of. Its complicated. The curse feeds on the flesh and the spirit. In order to purify Shade, I needed first to wall it off from the spirit."

"And then."

"And then we draw it from the flesh."

"Like poison."

"More like a parasite. Now that Shade's soul is safe and outside the circle, the curse can be driven into a new host."

The knight raises an questioning eyebrow.

"No not me, the chickens. Look, its searching even now." Near the fire Shade's body jerks. Black oily tendrils ooze from navel, and from her mouth and nose, spreading across her skin like obsidian worms. Isac cast an eye towards the bluing eastern horizon. "Its almost time." Walking back to the wagon he produces a stick of charcoal that smelled strongly of pungent herbs. With sure strokes he traces large symbols onto his skin. "As world passes between night and day the boundaries between this world and kur'ah'viih temporarily become fluid."

"Kur'ah'viih?" Juni's voice sounds small as she stares wide eyed at the inky bands squirming aross Shade's naked form.

"A goblin spiritual realm of sorts." Finishing his glyph he grabs his bag of chickens and a small knife. "Nothing leaves the circle until the egg glows clear." He makes eye contact with everyone in turn, "Nothing. Purify the ground of any blood with fire and salt, burn any pieces until ash."

With a deep breath, and a quick prayer, Isac steps into the circle.

by J, Gral, Kel, and Cadrius

Gralhruk

9th of December, 2009, 01:22

As the eastern sky lightens from deep purple to blue the priest labored on. Compared to what Juni saw in the inn, this part of the ritual was largely repetitive. Isac would take a heavily bound chicken from the sack, pierce it with the knife, and then hold it over Shades prone figure. Drawn by blood the blackness would leap into the bird's body. Juni remembers the horror of the first one, how the foul goblin magics gorged the chicken's body infusing it with such unholy strength that it tore free from its leather bindings. Isac had barely managed to toss it into the fire before it broke free. Even the forge like temperatures of the fire weren't enough to slow it, and several times the thin Pelorian had to kick its flaming, squawking carcass back into the flames. It wasn't until the third chicken that Juni realized they were squawking something in goblin.

With a shudder she pulls the egg closer, happily noting that with every cursing undead chicken that went into the fire, the egg grew brighter. Blarth and Cadrius kept an uneasy vigil, both of them warily pacing along the edge of the circle. Nicos looked more relaxed, but his brown eyes were ever alert.

The steady drone of Isac's chanting brings her attention back to the fire.

A sudden feeling of doom crashes down on her as the ghost like images of possible futures spring to life about her. Rotting hands reach from the shadows for her, dirty bony hands that sink like icy shards into the flesh of her back and rip her spine free. Pain and death grasp her mind as she sees herself falling into the yawing depths of oblivion. Then as quickly as it had come, it is over. Still clutching the egg she spins wide eyed backs away from the woods.

"Juni?" Cadrius' sword glints redly in the firelight. "What is it?" his hand on her shoulder makes her jump.

"Skathos," her voice comes in a choking whisper.

"He's..." a flash of silver cuts her sentence short. From the darkness a blade spins hungrily through the air before embedding into Cadrius' intercepting shield. The black pitted blade jutted from the inside of the shield just inches from her face. Cadrius eyes narrow grimly as he breaks the blade of the poinard off with his sword. It took more than human strength to push twelve inches of steel through a metal faced shield, let alone do it on a throw.

A rotting horror shambles from the darkened edge of the wood, seeming to bring some of the night back into the dawn lit clearing. Blackened flesh and scaberous tendon cover too-heavy bones. From the ruin of a face glimmer white eyes and pearly teeth; the once golden hair is now so many tufts of lifeless straw. The mere aura of this thing that was once Skathros is enough to draw every eye. His voice is low and cracked, seeming almost on the very edge of hearing, yet powerful enough to be felt in the bones.

"Give her to me."

by J, Gral, Kel, and Cadrius

Black Plauge

9th of December, 2009, 06:11

Cursing in orcish, Blarth recoils at the sound of death's voice. Looking across the circle, he sees the creature which has entered the clearing and berates himself for not thinking of this possibility earlier. Shade's pure soul energy, separated from her body like that, would attract all such creatures in the area like the rotting meat attracted vultures. If it got a hold of it, then it would drain her energy into itself and all of Isac's work would be for naught.

"Juni! Run!" Blarth yells, "It mustn't be allowed to touch that egg!"

Channeling his inner reserves, Blarth drives his own soul light brighter, attempting to give the creature another focus for its hunger.

itches

10th of December, 2009, 14:38

It's the smell that hits him first. The ripe smell of flesh rotting from the bones, maggots worming their way through what used to be a living being, with a sweet overlay that clenches a stomach and brings bile to the throat.

The smell of burning flesh, of undeath from the ritual had brought Nicos to the edge of gagging, nightmare memories fighting to the surface, fighting to drag him down into their cold familiar grasp.

But when the creature appeared from nowhere, gaunt, ruined eyes and a hint of bone, the rotting smell won. Collapsing to the ground on hands and knees, Nicos choked, gagged and wretched until he voided his last hastily eaten meal onto the soil.

Kelemyn

20th of December, 2009, 00:13

Horror heaped upon horror. The grisly slaughter of the curse-engorged chickens clamors behind her, and the shambling malevolence of the undead crime lord looms before her like a nightmare come to life. It is too much, just too damned much to take in after practically no sleep for days and days, and all the worry and care, and...

"Juni! Run!"

Blarth's hoarse shout rouses Juni from her fear-induced stupor. Run? Run where?

She glances down at the egg, warm and glowing softly with life in her hands. She doesn't think running will do any good and it may do it harm. For all she knows, the soul that the egg contains must be kept near to Shade's body or.. or something bad will happen.

He doesn't want the egg.

It is the calm and reassuring voice of her psicrystal in her head, ever the voice of reason. Except when it doesn't make any sense.

What?

Skathros doesn't want the egg or Shade's soul.

He doesn't?

No, he's here to disrupt the ritual. If we free Shade from the curse then we won't have any reason to track down the scroll. That's what he wants - the scroll for himself. And he wants us to find it for him.

Oh...

So the important thing is to keep Skathros away from the circle until the ritual is completed. Isac must be allowed to continue drawing the curse from Shade's body, destroying the undead chicken, and otherwise directing the goblin magic.

Juni turns toward the heavily armed and armored knight standing next to her. "Cadrius, you must protect Isac! Don't let Skathros gain the circle!" Then she takes a moment to throw up a psychic shield around herself - Skathros could still break up the ritual if he got his hands on the egg - and then takes a small step forward before calling out.

"Skathros!" Her voice rings clear above the crackle of the fire and the steady drone of Isac's chanting. "I'll help you decipher the journal! That's what you want, isn't it? to find the scroll? I can help you figure out where it is. Just.. just let us finish here. I'll do whatever you want. Just leave Shade be!"

Gralhruk

23rd of December, 2009, 07:52

Spinning.

From a vast height, shadowy seethings below.

Spinning.

She could hear the man's words, feel the heat of a great blaze, see the stone solid determination in his eyes.

Her world, wider than the sky, thrashing, raining blood from above.

There was, on the edges, a light, but it was fleeting, elusive. No matter how she turned her head, it retreated, always a hairs breadth from escaping entirely. Vainly she sought to catch it, but the darkness always swam before her.

For a moment, his eyes were there again, then gone. The light flickered, brighter now but making the darkness between all the blacker. Her body awoke, gradually, and rampant, the darkness was in her.

Twisting, like poisoned barbs through her veins. She shuddered under the assault, the world staccato, like lightning flashes in a black storm. Crimson drops spattered her nakedness with the color of life and death.

Sound returned, howling, thrashing, squawking.

His eyes . . . the light . . . the dark. Ever spinning, faster and faster, an endless cycle.

The pain came stronger, louder, like birthing a razor scaled demon. The blood was a fountain, it was her life, her death. The light pierced her, laid her bare but the light was her will and her strength. And the dark, she knew, the dark, the void, was her soul.

The realization slowed the cycle, and gradually it all made a kind of sense to her but she felt nothing. Not light, not dark, it was all grey now. A grey populated with the shadows of the things she had known, devoid of all the things that made them what they were.

The world was a fog, a ghost, a shadow - but however dim, she knew it. The eyes, Isac's eyes, above, were a line to that world. It made no sense to her, though she understood it implicitly. She lay still, no longer arching with agony, sweating, slick with blood, breathing rapid and shallow through the pain that yet racked her.

The screeching resolved into human words. With monumental effort she turned her head to the side, and there, bright and dark, she saw Skathros and knew him. Knew him for kin and kind, knew him for what he was and what he had become. A monster, like her, but not her. These things she knew but they were flat, without the connotation that went along with the meaning.

Her grey eyes were glassy in the mists that lay between the worlds, and she thought, far above, she could see herself.

Spinning.

Gralhruk

24th of December, 2009, 07:52

Skathros whips his head around at the shouting. Those hungry white eyes in that blackened, rotting face fixate with inhuman intensity on Blarth. Creaking fingers flex and the thing draws a long, pitted blade as he starts toward the half-orc.

Black Plauge

24th of December, 2009, 13:47

"That's it, focus on me..." Blarth mutters as the not-dead thing begins to move in his direction.

As he backs slowly away from the circle, the ink in one of Blarth's tattoos begins to move, stretching and swirling out of it's design and into his hands and feet. As it does so, Blarth clutches nervously at his club.

"Keep following me. Keep following me."

itches

29th of December, 2009, 12:42

Pulling himself together, Nicos looked up to find the creature approaching Blarth. Its attention was focused so intently on the half-orc that it should be possible to approach it. Wiping his mouth on a sleeve, the bard rose and with silent feet began to stalk the undead fiend even as it stalked Blarth. His stomach twisted within him again and threatened to upheave itself, but with gritted teeth and effort the bard held it in place as he drew near his target.

Then with a leap he was there. With his arm wrapped around its chest, Nicos leveraged one leg against the back of its knee and attempted to twist the creature to the ground. It was a simple wrestling move that would have worked on any human, elf, dwarf or orc. The creature was none of those things. It’s legs bent slightly under the assault, then with a single hand it reached around to grab Nicos, yanking him violently away with it’s inhuman strength.

“Maybe not a good idea to get its attention,” Lynn said to Juni, having made her way around the commotion to stand by the young woman’s side. The knife she normally kept hidden somewhere on her clothes was held a white knuckled grip and wide eyes trapped on the zombie in their midst. “Let the others keep it busy, they seem to know what they’re doing … maybe.”

-J-

4th of January, 2010, 13:21

Isac watches as the rotting specter of Skathos tosses Nicos halfway across the campsite. Sensing an opening, Blarth takes a half step forward to strike then pitches himself sideways narrowly avoiding the rotting corpse's slash. Like black lightning the blade screams through the air, hewing tree and splintering stone in its wake. Only the half-orc's battle honed reflexes keep him from being split in two. Isac's heart sinks - consumed by the power of the curse, the one time thief is all but unstoppable.

Looking down at Shade, he knows what must be done.

He had been unable to keep himself from being used by the goblin witches while he was their slave.

He had been unable to save the elves of Sshal' En Tuath, or protect his beloved Sheolign from the Sister's vengeance.

But right here....right now he was able to save this one life.

"Juni," he calls out over the din of battle. "When the egg turns clear, you have to crack it open."

She looks at him with her milky, clairvoyant eyes. The host of possible futures suddenly resolving into one, unstoppable path.

"Isac! No!"

With his left hand the priest smears the glyphs covering his body. Immediately black tendrils rise viper like from Shade's naked flesh.

Pelor is the Light and the Way

With a deep breath he plunges the small knife into the juncture of his neck. Hot crimson jets across his hand and sprays across Shades milky skin like ripe cranberries dropped on snow. Black magics leap through the wound and hungrily burrow into his flesh. He drops to his knees as the foulness runs like icy sewage through his veins.

Its good to see you again, Mura. The goblin words burn in his mind.

Mother

My son. I told you your pride would be your undoing. Foolish manling.

Pelor save me.

Bitter laughter dances on his dimming brain.

Mew to your pathetic human god, Mura. Soon you and the rest of your disgusting pink skinned kine will know...their...place.

Isac can feel the curse gnawing like maggots on his soul, chewing away all of him that was good and leaving in their wake a simulacra of black offal.

An yet he hung on.

Why do you fight Mura? It is...inevitable...

The last of the curse flows thickly out of Shade, and wriggles its self into the blackening flesh of Isac's torso. Summoning what little of his humanity he has left Isac staggers to his feet.

Now kill them slave, and bring me the girl.

Isac smiles, the flesh of his face sliding off in black, rotting sheets.

"Never."

With a lurch the thin priest falls backwards into the fire.

Kelemyn

12th of January, 2010, 06:39

Juni stares into the flames for the space of several long breaths, not wanting to believe - refusing to believe - that Isac is gone. But there can be no doubt that he'd intended to sacrifice himself at the last and that he'd been consumed by the fire. The question is: had it worked? She tears her gaze away from the inferno and looks down at the egg in her hands.

It glows clear and bright. There is no sign of darkness, no sign of the tracings of goblin glyphs that marred its surface before. What did Isac say to do?

Crack it open.

Juni turns away from the fire and kneels beside Shade's motionless body. She can hear Blarth and Nicos struggling with Skathros outside the circle, and nearer, the roar of the flames. But otherwise all is still. Is Shade breathing? How does a body live without a soul?

Hurry up!

Juni's hands shake but she does what needs to be done. As the shell cracks open, there is a flash of brilliant light and a soundless rumble, a vibration that travels up her arms and down her spine. A ghost-like, silvery tendril of smoke - no, it isn't smoke! - snakes away from the egg and hovers over Shade's mouth, swirling and dancing with life. Shade suddenly takes a convulsive breath, inhaling all of the vaporous emanation at once.

"Shade?" Dropping the empty shell, Juni takes her friend's cold hand in hers. "Can you hear me?"

Black Plauge

12th of January, 2010, 07:15

A string of what can only be orcish curses emanates from Blarth's mouth as Nicos attempts to wrestle the monstrosity before him to the ground.

Never touch that which moves without life.

The teaching grated through his mind, but Blarth was now faced with a quandry. If he used his club, he was as likely to hit Nicos as he was to hit the ... thing. His bite would be even worse. Did he dare risk touching that thing to aid Nicos.

Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Blarth reaches out and grabs at the pair in front of him. Holding his breath, he closes his hand around a limb and breaths a sigh of relief when he feels the supple leather of Nicos's boot. Grabbing nearly tight enough to twist Nicos's ankle, Blarth begins a tug-of-war, attempting to extract Nicos from the thing's grasp.

Gralhruk

14th of January, 2010, 00:38

With a start, Shade's grey eyes snap open, locked on Juni's own blue ones.

Blue

She half sits up, her head swinging around. The world was full of color, of movement, of life. Things she had forgotten existed. And inside, she felt whole for the first time in a long time - tired and battered, certainly, and full of ache but it was a normal ache, not the twisting horror that had been. She puts a hand on Arjuna's shoulder and smiles - genuine, warm.

Warm

The cold was gone from her, that icy feeling that had plagued her for so long. She felt alive, in a world no longer filled with darkness and shadow and dread. A moment is all it takes for these realizations to fill her, a moment for her to feel clean and good and free.

The moment is necessarily brief, for the real world is pressing all around. And it takes but another moment for reality to invade her newly cleansed senses. The stench of burning flesh, the feel of sticky blood on her naked body, the horrible sound of an undead monstrosity locked in mortal combat with her friends. Tortured recollections abound, and with them comes the knowledge she had just witnessed firsthand. She stifles a sob at the loss of this unexpected innocence.

Isac is gone, the hand and the eyes that had saved her, truly. Skathros, or what he had become - what she had almost become - remained. She steels herself, feeling the power in her hands and in her body, unwilling to squander this chance at life, unwilling to squander the sacrifice Isac had made. Grimly, she levers herself up, eyes searching for something of use. Having witnessed his power first hand, she knew they were doomed in a fight.

Her eyes sweep the area even as she settles her cloak over her shoulders, hiding her nakedness. Once her gaze finds Isac's remains, crackling in the blaze. She looks quickly away.

"Swords are no use."

She wracks her brain for some solution, feeling precious seconds slip by and then she spies the twin bags at Juni's feet, the glitter in the dust around them. She remembers the ritual, remembers words she had heard in a trance.

Salt and lead

She snatches them up and thrusts one at Arjuna.

"Come on, follow my lead!"

itches

2nd of February, 2010, 12:26

Feeling Blarth attempting to pull him away from the creature which had him deep within it's cold grasp, Nicos began to throw his weight to and fro in the hope that it could cause him to slip free of it's hold. With the endevour only succeeding in earning him some bloody wounds, the bard arched his body and slammed his head into the face of the monster.

The tactic worked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected attack, the creature released its hold, sending Nicos flying into Blarth.

Kelemyn

6th of February, 2010, 02:24

Shade smiled.

Juni had taken the bag that Shade had tossed at her, and then followed after her friend as she ran to where Nicos and Blarth were engaged with Skathros. But she was still taken aback by that smile. It was so genuine, so true, so real. No trace of a smirk, not a hint of irony. Had she ever seen Shade smile like that before?

Shade calls instructions to her over her shoulder as they race forward. Nicos pulled free with help from Blarth, which was so much the better.

"We hit him together but we need to be close, and we want to cover him so don't hold any back."

Juni nods, fully focused on what needs to be done now. Hit him with the lead and salt. She fumbles open her bag, running to keep up with Shade. A fine black powder spills out, and she adjusts her hold on the sack to keep from losing any more.

How close do we need to get to him? She finds her feet slowing as they close in. Now she can clearly see the flesh peeling away from bones, the face frozen in a rictus of hate, the impossible strength of the dessicated limbs. She forces herself to go closer, to stick with Shade as they move into position.

Skathros barely seems to even register their existence. He is intent only on attacking those nearest him, pursuing Nicos and Blarth with single-minded malevolence even as they try to scramble away from him. Shade moves to intercept, and Juni follows.

"NOW!" Shade yells. Juni swings her sack, loosing a cloud of dark powder at the same moment that Shade's bag erupts with a shower of white. Lead and salt. Juni remembers Isac saying something about the two substances together having some kind of power over the corruption of the curse. But she isn't prepared for Skathros' reaction.

He screams, a piercing wail like breaking glass and screeching furies and howling wolves all rolled into one, threaded with something deeper and filled with rage. The thing that was Skathros thrashes uncontrollably as the others are assaulted by the noise and a sudden charred, sickening smell.

Shade goes cold all over and her gut rolls. She grabs Juni's arm and tugs her away and in a moment they are fleeing headlong back towards Nicos and Blarth.

"Get him up and let's GO!"

by Kel and Gral

Kelemyn

25th of February, 2010, 09:00

Juni knew that Shade would never let her go by herself. That's why she had to make up an excuse and slip away unnoticed. It wasn't difficult. Everyone was busy with preparations for the departure. They planned to be ready to leave in just a few hours.

If I hurry, I won't even be missed, she thinks as she crosses a farmer's field on the outskirts of town, heading south. Few are out and about in the bleak hour before dawn, but she avoids taking the road anyway. She doesn't want to be seen by anyone in the Guild who might recognize her and cause trouble. Of course, going off across country like this could leave her vulnerable to that other threat. She stops cold and looks warily around. Thick gray clouds glower overhead, and tendrils of cold mist snake among the tussocks of dry stubble in the fields. All is still, no breath even of wind.

No zombies to be seen.

Do you believe all that about the dead rising?

Why would Cadrius lie?

I don't know.

Juni moves on, picking her way over the uneven ground. She doesn't really doubt what Cadrius told them last night. But she doesn't believe that she is in any immediate danger from hordes of undead either. She figures that Skathros has already scurried back to his lair beneath the abandoned temple to lick his wounds, and it was him and his shadow minions that were her main worry. That was the reason she had not asked Shade to come along with her. She thought that Skathros might possibly still be drawn to the remnants of the curse somehow, and that Shade would be safer staying with the others.

Trees loom all around her now. Juni realizes that she has come at last to the copse, and that the clearing should be just ahead. The way is more difficult here where the undergrowth is thick, and she slows her pace.

Nobody had wanted to talk about Isac since the escape from Skathros, including herself. At first, grief had been too raw inside her for words. Then, when the time seemed right, she didn't know what to say or how to say it. Cadrius had mentioned the priest once, but Juni had become inexplicably angry over it and so she had turned away from the conversation.

You don't like him very much, do you?

Who says I don't? I like him well enough.

Come on. Who do you think you're fooling?

It doesn't matter whether I like him or not. Just... forget about it, all right?

I can't forget about it unless you do.

Juni struggles through a final screen of brush and creeping brambles, and steps out into the clearing. It looks just about the same as it did when she saw it last, almost exactly a day ago, although of course the fire is no longer burning. She stares at the charred spot within the circle of lead and salt, and suddenly the firelight seems to flicker before her eyes once again. A droning chant echoes intermittently just on the edge of hearing - Isac's voice as he performs the ritual. She can even feel the egg warm in her hands.

No, no... She tries to break free of the vision. This is one moment that she does not wish to relive!

A sudden sound behind her - a snap of a twig - breaks the spell. What was that? She turns to look, suddenly aware of an intense stillness all around her.