Victor peered through grey eyes to the flat red door. The bustle and chaos of the city of doors whirled around him but did not touch him as he stood contemplating the danger behind that door.
To hell and back a hundred times. No force, no demon or no man, nothing can stop Doom. He knocked the door with three solid methodical thuds. His armor echoing against the city sounds surrounding him.
The slot eye slot opened and voice of refinement escaped the eye slit to find Doom's ear, "This is a private establishment. What is your business."
Doom lifted his left hand to eye level while gripping the Balor head by the horn. The Balor's dead eyes returned a glazed stare. The eye slit closed and the door opened.
*******************************************************
Sip, just a sip. The wine was the most exquisite in the multiverse, only gods could afford it. Others whoever tasted would simply be driven mad by its taste. Filling the soul with pleasure so great nothing else compared, it would compel the drinker to lose constraint and gulp. The body of less than a god would then be consumed and torn apart a welcome death would come for after the wine there was nothing left to lift for. The Merovingian continued to sip as his men showed Victor to his table.
"Drink?"
"Doom will not play games, you have property which is mine."
"Victor, so rushed. So Brash, so rushed. No no, This is your victory. You must celebrate, please drink."
"I require not your drink nor counsel." The glasses shook and the table cracked as Victor thrust the bound metallic book on the table. "A greater prize than you, or Ishmael could ever hope for, a greater treasure than can be found in all 9 hells. Worth more than the 30,000 souls surrendered for the one I crave."
"Yes, yes, the Seals. Guarded by the mighty Galan Savior of Osiris Himself. I grand prize yes, but Why would you think to trade them to me?"
"I vanquished the whelps you sent after Galan in your quest for it."
"Then you know I want them, but do you know why?"
"Your paltry plans are not Doom's concern."
"But they are." He sipped, "They certainly are. The one thing demons, men, gods and even Dooms have in common--They do as they must do. One event causing the next. One action giving purpose to the next action. You see it is the why, the reason, which gives us power. I know WHY you are here, yet you do not care why I want you here."
"You want the seals. Either for themselves or more likely to leverage with the gods for permission to keep your enterprise going after they have forbidden it. If that fails you will try to bargain with Asmodeous for sanctuary against Olympus."
The Frenchman leaned forward resting his elbows on the table and pressing his fingertips together loosely. "Victor, you see so much yet you are blind. It is because you do not understand the why that you have always been a puppet. Mephistopheles has held your mouther's soul since she sold it him to spare your life. A marvelous trade since it was he which infected you with the plague to start. Since that day you have hated him schemed against him, fought him..."
A refreshing sip as the Frenchman leans back in his chair, "obeyed and served him. You retrieved the seals for him because he told you to. You found he no longer possessed your mother, and so here you are, multiple plains away while your world dies bringing me something I didn't even ask for. Your why is to be a puppet.
Why trade for the seals? You already have them and so long as I hold your mother, I have you. You can not bargain for something I already own." Merv opened his arms wide resting them on the top of neighboring chairs, a bright smile marking his victory. He paused his smile only long enough to bring to goblet to his lips for another measured sip.
Victor reached across the table so powerfully the Merovingian thought he maybe reaching for him. But instead, he captured the wine goblet. He stood lifting it, cradling the stem between his fingers. He lifted the goblet like a king. He drank the entire goblet in one sustained swallow then crushed the goblet within the armor of his fist. "I do not care, for your game. Make the trade soul broker, before I decide I should not bargain for something I can take."
*************************************************************
Now with his drinking hand freed of its burden, the Merovingian reached into his perfectly tailored cloak and produced an abnormally large coin. He slid it across the table gently, "You have a deal, your mother's soul for the seals."
Doom grabbed up the coin in an instant and with a forceful turn; he took his exodus not once looking back.
Fool, DOOM does not fail, DOOM can not fail.
*************************************************************
The Frenchman smiled, Carry the danger out with you, and leave the true prize. Yes Victor do exactly as you must.
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Galan's Pending Doom
He couldn't have been out for too long. A day, maybe a little more. He was not exactly sure the duration, but he was sure the world was different and would never be the same. Things which a week ago seemed eternal and unmovable were now shattered. Ultron had nearly slaughtered the whole earth, the Empress dead, and even the sacred Isle was losing its power.
Above all, his position, his calling, was to keep the seals safe. Entering the vault he could feel the holy aura weakening. The gods' power came from the faith of the mortals, Ultron inadvertently starved them, and now with the Saint attacking the Isle was not safe for the sacred seals. He rushed through the Temple of Light until he found them.
Tucking the seals under his arm he attempted to plane shift directly to Tyr's domain where safety was certain. He failed. The spell was cast, yet he did not move from where he stood. Perhaps, the traces of chaos magic held him despite the ritual, or perhaps with the weakened state of the Isle the shift was too far. The Grey Waste was a common intersection for planar travelers, peaceful and uninhabited it was close to everywhere. The sounds of clashing weapons and screaming warriors approached. He shifted.
The shift succeeded and Galan stood with his massive two handed holy sword drawn and at the ready. As far as eyes could see the landscape was the same waste high thin grey grass. Wind rustled the grass, its movement the only thing distinguishing it from the sky and dirt which wore the exact colorless shade.
It was not wind. The force struck with such velocity and heat that if not for years of battle the surprise would have landed him prone. Sharply and quickly he turned swinging his sword with his spin.
Sword struck steel of a azure hovering golemn, shapped like a man and glowing with azure light blinding compared to the grey emptiness which filled the space. The machine fired again, this time defenses up the Keeper felt nothing from the blast. Strike, strike strike. He ripped the machine to pieces which rested at Galan's feet. He watched color melt out of the blue metal. Something else was sliding through the grass.
He attempted to plane shift again and found his path blocked. Then sprang from the grasses came two disembodied spirit shrieking and slashing with their hands. The holy aura of the sword and his faith protected him from harm, as the two ghosts solidified into knife carrying thugs.
"I didn't expect to see you this far from Dragon. Merv must be on the move." Galan smiled as he held his ground. The Frenchmen's two assassins sprung at him again in physical form and regretted their decision. With an upward spin Galan's blade nearly cleaved one in half, following with a quick thrust he drove the second back over his own feet.
Blows were traded, and while Galan clearly held the advantage for the first time in years he felt the pain of battle. The spear of destiny which so valiantly protected him for years was gone. The pain served as a reminder he was vulnerable with out the spear and that defeat was possible. His moves became measured and cautious. Take nothing for granted.
Then a sharp pain enterred from his back. He jerked to see a cat creature attempting to retreat back ito the grass. He stabbed into the grass where he saw the cat go and using his god enhanced strength pulled up the weretiger dangling on the tip of his sword. The creature had the seals in his blood soaked hands. With a well measured snap, Galan shook the tiger from his blade and sliced the hands off at the wrists.
The Seals fell to the ground with a thunderous thud. Galan scooped them up in one hand as he turned to deflect the knife blow of his remaining assailant. The sword was unbalanced with only one hand but it was sufficent to block the blow, and even open his opponent to a spinning kick. The kick missed as the man turned ethereal for just a moment before solidifying and striking Galans throat with his knife.
As blood raced form his throat down his armor a new pain pierced his chest. Looking down he saw a spear of grey light impale and lift him off the ground. pain. Of greater concern was the the trail of grey light which carried the seals toward a dark cloaked figure about 50 yards away. Galan hurled his sword as the ghost assassin hitting his mark perfectly and destroying his foe.
He took a dagger from his belt and after just a second of calculation sent his racing toward the hooded man. The dagger strikes the man severing his fingers from his right hand and causing all the lights to cease. In one fluid move, Galan picks up his sword and sprints a straight line for the seals. The weretiger attempts to intercept but receives a palm strike for his troubles which sends him sprawling.
The hooded man sat on the ground cradling his crippled hand eyeing the seals which were no more than feet from him. "You disgust me." He spat as Galan as he lunged for his severed fingers. Galan swung a heavy level swing. The man scoffed, "You can not defeat Serpenthium." His mouth openned to laugh but no sound came out. A straight kick to the chest knocked Serpenthium's body back and caused his head to fall straight to the ground rolling forward passed the seals down the slope to be lost in the grass.
Galan watched the head roll and met eyes with another man striding toward him through the grass. This man ore a green cloak and cowl over shinny metalic armor. He war a mask forged of hellsteel with only small slots showing hate filled eyes. He was dragging something through the grass but Galan could not yet see it.
Galan shook his head as he realized his vision was blurred and body started to ache. He laid his hands on his throat to heal the wound, but the dizziness remained. Poison He gritted his teeth and used sheer will power to push back the effects.
The masked man spoke lifting Galan's trusted mount and friend, Anteleos, into the air over his head.
Galan spoke first, "Doom, I didn't take you for anyone's lackey especially the Merovingian. You want to tell me what is really going on here?" Doom responds, "My dear petulant child, I do not work for or with them. We simply want the same thing."
"I shall never surrender the seals, no matter the cost."
"Fool I know. I dare not insult you by offering a trade," Doom snapped the hippogriff's back by folding Anteloes him half over his head then casually tossed him to the side, "I do not trade for what I can take."
Lightning flew from gauntlet-ed hand.
Above all, his position, his calling, was to keep the seals safe. Entering the vault he could feel the holy aura weakening. The gods' power came from the faith of the mortals, Ultron inadvertently starved them, and now with the Saint attacking the Isle was not safe for the sacred seals. He rushed through the Temple of Light until he found them.
Tucking the seals under his arm he attempted to plane shift directly to Tyr's domain where safety was certain. He failed. The spell was cast, yet he did not move from where he stood. Perhaps, the traces of chaos magic held him despite the ritual, or perhaps with the weakened state of the Isle the shift was too far. The Grey Waste was a common intersection for planar travelers, peaceful and uninhabited it was close to everywhere. The sounds of clashing weapons and screaming warriors approached. He shifted.
The shift succeeded and Galan stood with his massive two handed holy sword drawn and at the ready. As far as eyes could see the landscape was the same waste high thin grey grass. Wind rustled the grass, its movement the only thing distinguishing it from the sky and dirt which wore the exact colorless shade.
It was not wind. The force struck with such velocity and heat that if not for years of battle the surprise would have landed him prone. Sharply and quickly he turned swinging his sword with his spin.
Sword struck steel of a azure hovering golemn, shapped like a man and glowing with azure light blinding compared to the grey emptiness which filled the space. The machine fired again, this time defenses up the Keeper felt nothing from the blast. Strike, strike strike. He ripped the machine to pieces which rested at Galan's feet. He watched color melt out of the blue metal. Something else was sliding through the grass.
He attempted to plane shift again and found his path blocked. Then sprang from the grasses came two disembodied spirit shrieking and slashing with their hands. The holy aura of the sword and his faith protected him from harm, as the two ghosts solidified into knife carrying thugs.
"I didn't expect to see you this far from Dragon. Merv must be on the move." Galan smiled as he held his ground. The Frenchmen's two assassins sprung at him again in physical form and regretted their decision. With an upward spin Galan's blade nearly cleaved one in half, following with a quick thrust he drove the second back over his own feet.
Blows were traded, and while Galan clearly held the advantage for the first time in years he felt the pain of battle. The spear of destiny which so valiantly protected him for years was gone. The pain served as a reminder he was vulnerable with out the spear and that defeat was possible. His moves became measured and cautious. Take nothing for granted.
Then a sharp pain enterred from his back. He jerked to see a cat creature attempting to retreat back ito the grass. He stabbed into the grass where he saw the cat go and using his god enhanced strength pulled up the weretiger dangling on the tip of his sword. The creature had the seals in his blood soaked hands. With a well measured snap, Galan shook the tiger from his blade and sliced the hands off at the wrists.
The Seals fell to the ground with a thunderous thud. Galan scooped them up in one hand as he turned to deflect the knife blow of his remaining assailant. The sword was unbalanced with only one hand but it was sufficent to block the blow, and even open his opponent to a spinning kick. The kick missed as the man turned ethereal for just a moment before solidifying and striking Galans throat with his knife.
As blood raced form his throat down his armor a new pain pierced his chest. Looking down he saw a spear of grey light impale and lift him off the ground. pain. Of greater concern was the the trail of grey light which carried the seals toward a dark cloaked figure about 50 yards away. Galan hurled his sword as the ghost assassin hitting his mark perfectly and destroying his foe.
He took a dagger from his belt and after just a second of calculation sent his racing toward the hooded man. The dagger strikes the man severing his fingers from his right hand and causing all the lights to cease. In one fluid move, Galan picks up his sword and sprints a straight line for the seals. The weretiger attempts to intercept but receives a palm strike for his troubles which sends him sprawling.
The hooded man sat on the ground cradling his crippled hand eyeing the seals which were no more than feet from him. "You disgust me." He spat as Galan as he lunged for his severed fingers. Galan swung a heavy level swing. The man scoffed, "You can not defeat Serpenthium." His mouth openned to laugh but no sound came out. A straight kick to the chest knocked Serpenthium's body back and caused his head to fall straight to the ground rolling forward passed the seals down the slope to be lost in the grass.
Galan watched the head roll and met eyes with another man striding toward him through the grass. This man ore a green cloak and cowl over shinny metalic armor. He war a mask forged of hellsteel with only small slots showing hate filled eyes. He was dragging something through the grass but Galan could not yet see it.
Galan shook his head as he realized his vision was blurred and body started to ache. He laid his hands on his throat to heal the wound, but the dizziness remained. Poison He gritted his teeth and used sheer will power to push back the effects.
The masked man spoke lifting Galan's trusted mount and friend, Anteleos, into the air over his head.
Galan spoke first, "Doom, I didn't take you for anyone's lackey especially the Merovingian. You want to tell me what is really going on here?" Doom responds, "My dear petulant child, I do not work for or with them. We simply want the same thing."
"I shall never surrender the seals, no matter the cost."
"Fool I know. I dare not insult you by offering a trade," Doom snapped the hippogriff's back by folding Anteloes him half over his head then casually tossed him to the side, "I do not trade for what I can take."
Lightning flew from gauntlet-ed hand.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Truth of Demons
The cold dark chamber sat silent, as it always did. Devoid of light, life, hope or joy it sat. Glaysa loved it here. The court of her father Asmodeus had a sense of totality. Cloaking herself in the invisibility offered by her father she stood in silence and stroked the pain this place granted her.
The chamber was no longer still and silent. Here at the bottom of the 9th layer of hell resting in the coils of Asmodeues true snake form, only things which were invited ever entered. Even for a loyal demon lord they could count few such invitations. Mephistopheles was invited today. The petty and jealous lord of the frozen 8th strode through the court. His presence was large and vast yet dwarved in this small space by the heavy weight of her fathers presence.
The lord of Cania sought this audience to bring judgement and punishment to a demon lord once loyal to him. The great lord of the flies, Rivenic, had betrayed Meph and stole the power of a now dead god mean for the lord of the 8th.
The rotting demon had also arrived. His twisted goat head held a confident snarl as an intoxicating black light emanated from him.
The room itself demanded silence, as though even the sounds of hoof prints upon the black obsidian floor were a betrayal. No light no sound just presence. Glaysa felt the ecstasy of torture stroke her blood. Her heart pound slowly with excitement until the room began to choke it out. slower and slower. Longer between beats, she thought the room may kill her and she longed for the pleasure of it.
"You have the posturing of petulant children." The room spoke and Glaysa felt the cold solidify in Mephistopheles' heart. "Speak child."
The lord of Cania spoke quickly, "Rivenic was suppose to serve me and guard the Oak tree. I would kill Corel and shake the pantheon. The power was to be mine as I consumed him. The lord of flies stole it from me and proved a failure, the Genevan's retook the tree. He has failed you my lord. Destroy him Destroy him now while I act to conceal from them our true plans. It is not yet too late."
The room spoke again, "It is you who is incapable. You were not strong enough to keep your servants loyal to you. You tempted them with irresistible power and act surprised when you fail. I will take Rivenic unto myself. This matter is closed. Return to your post, Doom must strike when summoned."
Fury and jealous rage swelled in the demon lord but only, "yes" was spoke. You don't get this far with out biting your tongue.
The room spoke again, voice from everywhere and no where, "Your power is considerable. You've proven yourself lord of the flies. You shall serve as my Daughters protector and envoy as she needs you. in some millennia you may serve me directly." The servant left.
Glaysa stepped out of the shadows and bathed in the darkness directly.
"Father, things are as you commanded. For centuries I was slave to the Tulani in order to steer him to the saint, so I could guide their crusade. A gentle hand and a careful whisper, using truth to spread lies. Mistrust has destroyed faith and the world has no salvation. I have corrupted the god's prophet and made him their enemy. The lost servants of the Dark One in desperation have proved the easiest to manipulate and their power is at your disposal, the Dark Empress strikes tomorrow covering our attack.
With the lull in the Blood war due to the false vegetas we have the time to strike, finally, once in eternity. Our mortal allies will redirect the comet thinking themselves heroes, and the Olympians will suffer from the only weapon powerful enough to destroy them -- their own power.
Cut off from faith and divided we will isolate the weak gods and do as was done with Corel. Their power will be yours, the blood war will be won. With all the lower planes to your charge, the gods power at your service and the Olympians cut from their faith strings, victory over the multiverse will be yours.
This is my offering to you. All is as you asked it to be. Reward me father."
Your reward
Darkness embraced her, stroked her, filled her, clenched her, suffocated her, tore at her flesh, shredded her soul. Only pain, only suffering, only death.
Slowly the darkness rebuilt her, condensed her, housed her, filled her, stroked her, and embraced her.
She lie on the floor laughing with ecstasy, her giggled moans and streams of screams filled the silence. She opened her eyes and extended her grin, she had a wedding party to attend.
The chamber was no longer still and silent. Here at the bottom of the 9th layer of hell resting in the coils of Asmodeues true snake form, only things which were invited ever entered. Even for a loyal demon lord they could count few such invitations. Mephistopheles was invited today. The petty and jealous lord of the frozen 8th strode through the court. His presence was large and vast yet dwarved in this small space by the heavy weight of her fathers presence.
The lord of Cania sought this audience to bring judgement and punishment to a demon lord once loyal to him. The great lord of the flies, Rivenic, had betrayed Meph and stole the power of a now dead god mean for the lord of the 8th.
The rotting demon had also arrived. His twisted goat head held a confident snarl as an intoxicating black light emanated from him.
The room itself demanded silence, as though even the sounds of hoof prints upon the black obsidian floor were a betrayal. No light no sound just presence. Glaysa felt the ecstasy of torture stroke her blood. Her heart pound slowly with excitement until the room began to choke it out. slower and slower. Longer between beats, she thought the room may kill her and she longed for the pleasure of it.
"You have the posturing of petulant children." The room spoke and Glaysa felt the cold solidify in Mephistopheles' heart. "Speak child."
The lord of Cania spoke quickly, "Rivenic was suppose to serve me and guard the Oak tree. I would kill Corel and shake the pantheon. The power was to be mine as I consumed him. The lord of flies stole it from me and proved a failure, the Genevan's retook the tree. He has failed you my lord. Destroy him Destroy him now while I act to conceal from them our true plans. It is not yet too late."
The room spoke again, "It is you who is incapable. You were not strong enough to keep your servants loyal to you. You tempted them with irresistible power and act surprised when you fail. I will take Rivenic unto myself. This matter is closed. Return to your post, Doom must strike when summoned."
Fury and jealous rage swelled in the demon lord but only, "yes" was spoke. You don't get this far with out biting your tongue.
The room spoke again, voice from everywhere and no where, "Your power is considerable. You've proven yourself lord of the flies. You shall serve as my Daughters protector and envoy as she needs you. in some millennia you may serve me directly." The servant left.
Glaysa stepped out of the shadows and bathed in the darkness directly.
"Father, things are as you commanded. For centuries I was slave to the Tulani in order to steer him to the saint, so I could guide their crusade. A gentle hand and a careful whisper, using truth to spread lies. Mistrust has destroyed faith and the world has no salvation. I have corrupted the god's prophet and made him their enemy. The lost servants of the Dark One in desperation have proved the easiest to manipulate and their power is at your disposal, the Dark Empress strikes tomorrow covering our attack.
With the lull in the Blood war due to the false vegetas we have the time to strike, finally, once in eternity. Our mortal allies will redirect the comet thinking themselves heroes, and the Olympians will suffer from the only weapon powerful enough to destroy them -- their own power.
Cut off from faith and divided we will isolate the weak gods and do as was done with Corel. Their power will be yours, the blood war will be won. With all the lower planes to your charge, the gods power at your service and the Olympians cut from their faith strings, victory over the multiverse will be yours.
This is my offering to you. All is as you asked it to be. Reward me father."
Your reward
Darkness embraced her, stroked her, filled her, clenched her, suffocated her, tore at her flesh, shredded her soul. Only pain, only suffering, only death.
Slowly the darkness rebuilt her, condensed her, housed her, filled her, stroked her, and embraced her.
She lie on the floor laughing with ecstasy, her giggled moans and streams of screams filled the silence. She opened her eyes and extended her grin, she had a wedding party to attend.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
"Serenity young padawan. Our cause is just, to be calm in the midst of the storm is our great strength. The force is our ally and we shall always prevail." It was a slight chastisement. The padawan must remember to school his feelings. In moments the battle would reach them and the chaos of war and death could unsettle the most disciplined shogun.
"yes master" Was all his learner said.
The child was young but skilled. For 5 years they travelled together and the boy was ready to be a man and face the trials. A fine example of what a shogun could be.
Such examples were needed and rare. The Heritic Jeric poisoned the Shogun mind, and despite his constant string of betrayal some, especially the young, were tempted by his philosophy. Rumors floated of deserters seeking out a rouge temple in Geneva, but that did not matter now.
In a world of active opposition the Saint offered an ally against the tide. The council embraced this ally and so had Master Typhius. With courage and serenity he sought the will of the force free of the tyranny of the gods.
The battle had come. With Serenity Master Typhius and his young padawan defended their ground soundly. When the dragon fell the Genevans poured out of city into the broken ranks of the Red army.
As men died on both sides the Red army started to break. The retreat was called for. A small group of nurses and wash maids were stuck in the chaos with their wagon wheel broken. Master Typhius had to by them time. The whirlwind of terror - Drakus Truehammer was coming this way.
Imperials and Harmonium died at the hands of the monster enraged and empowered by the evil God of War. Driven by hatred and Rage the darkside saturated the surrounding area.
Master Typius used the force to rebuild the wagon and send the helpless running. He no sooner finished then to see his young padawan stand bravely before Aries rage beast and be struck down with a casual stroke of his blade.
Master Typhius then felt something he had forgotten how to feel. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. He used it and closed the distance between him and the monster in one leap. He was met with a flamming battle axe and struck out of the air motionless to the ground. Black closed in around him as angels swarmed the monster. Nothing.
He awoke to the prodding of Paladins. The elite soliders of the gods. There was a time Typhius respected them but that was long past. "Are you ok?" The question rank in his ears and he was not sure who asked it. His eyes opened and floods of colors attacked his eyes. And that feeling, the feeling was still there.
Among the tidal wave of sights was his dead apprentice cleaved into 2 pieces both charred and being thrown into the back of wagon by careless paladins. The feeling consumed him, Through passion I gain strength.
With a flick of the wrist his apprentices saber flew to his hand and he ignited both blades to defend himself.
"Take it easy master shogun. The battle is over." One of the paladins with a blue cape said. He was on a pegasus so that meant he was in charge. The sights were clearer now...
piles of dead bodies.
Smoke rising from the camp sites,
Lines of prisoners in chains,
geneva's flag waving above the city,
His cause lost,
He pressed this feeling into his sabers and their hue changed from blue to red. Through strength I gain power.
Life and power filled him as never before. It exploded in torrents of fire consuming his captures. Through Power I gain Victory.
The moment was over. He breathed deeply and felt a serenity unmatched in all his previous life. His attackers, the ones who threatened the innocent, the unjust, those who killed his padawan, were dead and he stood alone. Through Victory my chains are broken.
He vowed that Geneva would pay, he would have justice. He would not be the puppet of any stronger than he. He turned off his sabers and attached them to his belt. Wrapping himself in the scarred blue cloak of his dead attacker there was an audible pop and Master Typhius was gone.
The Force Shall Free Me.
"yes master" Was all his learner said.
The child was young but skilled. For 5 years they travelled together and the boy was ready to be a man and face the trials. A fine example of what a shogun could be.
Such examples were needed and rare. The Heritic Jeric poisoned the Shogun mind, and despite his constant string of betrayal some, especially the young, were tempted by his philosophy. Rumors floated of deserters seeking out a rouge temple in Geneva, but that did not matter now.
In a world of active opposition the Saint offered an ally against the tide. The council embraced this ally and so had Master Typhius. With courage and serenity he sought the will of the force free of the tyranny of the gods.
The battle had come. With Serenity Master Typhius and his young padawan defended their ground soundly. When the dragon fell the Genevans poured out of city into the broken ranks of the Red army.
As men died on both sides the Red army started to break. The retreat was called for. A small group of nurses and wash maids were stuck in the chaos with their wagon wheel broken. Master Typhius had to by them time. The whirlwind of terror - Drakus Truehammer was coming this way.
Imperials and Harmonium died at the hands of the monster enraged and empowered by the evil God of War. Driven by hatred and Rage the darkside saturated the surrounding area.
Master Typius used the force to rebuild the wagon and send the helpless running. He no sooner finished then to see his young padawan stand bravely before Aries rage beast and be struck down with a casual stroke of his blade.
Master Typhius then felt something he had forgotten how to feel. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. He used it and closed the distance between him and the monster in one leap. He was met with a flamming battle axe and struck out of the air motionless to the ground. Black closed in around him as angels swarmed the monster. Nothing.
He awoke to the prodding of Paladins. The elite soliders of the gods. There was a time Typhius respected them but that was long past. "Are you ok?" The question rank in his ears and he was not sure who asked it. His eyes opened and floods of colors attacked his eyes. And that feeling, the feeling was still there.
Among the tidal wave of sights was his dead apprentice cleaved into 2 pieces both charred and being thrown into the back of wagon by careless paladins. The feeling consumed him, Through passion I gain strength.
With a flick of the wrist his apprentices saber flew to his hand and he ignited both blades to defend himself.
"Take it easy master shogun. The battle is over." One of the paladins with a blue cape said. He was on a pegasus so that meant he was in charge. The sights were clearer now...
piles of dead bodies.
Smoke rising from the camp sites,
Lines of prisoners in chains,
geneva's flag waving above the city,
His cause lost,
He pressed this feeling into his sabers and their hue changed from blue to red. Through strength I gain power.
Life and power filled him as never before. It exploded in torrents of fire consuming his captures. Through Power I gain Victory.
The moment was over. He breathed deeply and felt a serenity unmatched in all his previous life. His attackers, the ones who threatened the innocent, the unjust, those who killed his padawan, were dead and he stood alone. Through Victory my chains are broken.
He vowed that Geneva would pay, he would have justice. He would not be the puppet of any stronger than he. He turned off his sabers and attached them to his belt. Wrapping himself in the scarred blue cloak of his dead attacker there was an audible pop and Master Typhius was gone.
The Force Shall Free Me.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Nial's new direction
Nial sets aside his predominant research with a sigh. "When will the light come to me? I may never find a way to defeat Jager. I need to distract myself."
Turning to a small pile of other scrolls, he opens his summary of notes concerning the destruction of OA. "Something doesn't fit here. If all of the lanterns were dead, but OA continued to float, there was another source of power. Let's see what we can puzzle out..." He engrosses himself in a different puzzle with strange implications. He is only beginning to realize there is a deeper story behind the power of OA.
After an hour or so of calculations, drawings, and new notes, he thinks he might have an idea, but he will need to confer with someone more knowledgeable in the nature of magical rifts. Reaching in his pouch to check on his funds for food and drink, something different from the rest of the coins catches his attention. "I wonder..."
Nial's new direction
Nial sets aside his predominant research with a sigh. "When will the light come to me? I may never find a way to defeat Jager. I need to distract myself."
Turning to a small pile of other scrolls, he opens his summary of notes concerning the destruction of OA. "Something doesn't fit here. If all of the lanterns were dead, but OA continued to float, there was another source of power. Let's see what we can puzzle out..." He engrosses himself in a different puzzle with strange implications. He is only beginning to realize there is a deeper story behind the power of OA.
After an hour or so of calculations, drawings, and new notes, he thinks he might have an idea, but he will need to confer with someone more knowledgeable in the nature of magical rifts. Reaching in his pouch to check on his funds for food and drink, something different from the rest of the coins catches his attention. "I wonder..."
Monday, February 3, 2014
Where once there was love there is only Me
The weight was the hardest part. The damage being done to her body would be healed, and even if not it paled to the anguish of her soul. What bothered her was the weight of the chains. She couldn't move with them on. No amount of physical pain could approach or compete with the pain of her guilt, so let it come.
"Do you know why you are being punished? Do you know what your sin is?"
The voice was calm and even. Not angry in even the slightest. It almost alarmed her how he could do such horrible things to her without anger. The angel asked a perfect matter of fact question.
"What is your Sin, Lumeria?"
Lumeria choked her answer through blood, "I failed to gain the documents." She was sent because she was trusted and because she failed, the war came before the Saint was ready. Millions would suffer in a war that was unjust because of the faulted understanding of mortals. She could not say it out loud; her body would not let her.
"No. Failure is not a sin. Failure may come for many reasons. It is the reason for your failure. Your sin is sloth. That is why you always ran instead of standing up for anything. It is why you left Lux, it is why you failed Raven. It is why you killed Carmen -- It was easy. Your sin is Sloth."
His touch removed her physical wounds. His words removed the weight on her heart. She understood now that she had always refused to act, refused to do the hard things though she knew they were right. It had earned her only broken pieces of a barely breathing story. The chains fell from her arms and released her. He slid the notebook across the table and gave the command he had before, but now she knew the answer. "Confess your crimes."
Lumeria began to write, and write and write. Her sins and failings could have filled an ocean but this notebook would have to do. Her guilt would be buried in those pages. She paused only for moments and heard the silent sound of loneliness. She wrote, "I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I'm the shell of a girl that I used to know well." The words stared up at her. Sloth had cost her everything and everyone and now only loneliness followed her to bed. She slid the book across the table her fingers broken and bleeding from the hemorrhaging they had just finished.
"Punishment, if applied correctly, brings perfection. Let this punishment be your perfecting. Go and live the life Justice demands." The angel showed her to a room in the Cathederal.
The room was small and empty but for a small bed on the stone floor. She found herself rocking back and forth slowly as she stood there. The same rocking motion she had soothed Samuel to sleep with before he was taken from her, she always pretended they were dancing. Now she was dancing slowly in an empty room, with empty arms. She had sang the Hymn of Hope as a lullaby to her baby and daughter. The hymn mocked her now. She had believed in miracles, but that belief went unanswered. Her children were gone, as was her hope. Loneliness had taken their place. Can the lonely take the place of you? Sing MYSELF a quiet lullaby, let you go and let the lonely in.
There was a small knock on the door. It startled Lumeria but she opened it to find a messenger from the Carrington institute. He handed her a letter and left. Stunned she opened it to read a letter from Reven, It spoke of how the demon was lying. Carmen did not have to die, she was tricked. She strangled the letter in her hands. Before she could process the letter Metta Themoose spoke through the door, "May we speak briefly?" Lumeria just nodded oppening the door. "I heard you lost your children to the gods' neglect. There can be no greater pain to a mother than to lose her child."
In stunned silence, Lumeria blinked. She was too scared to go inside the feelings those words brought up for one more lonely moment. So Metta continued, "The gods, the paladins, the empire, the shogun, they could have saved them but they didn't. The gods let you be tricked and let you do the unspeakable. I can't apologize enough for what happened. I'm sorry. For what it is worth, I know your pain. Veli, who like the gods puts on a face of morality, set in motion the death of my daughter. I thought maybe you would understand my feelings."
Silence. Finally, Lumeria mumbled, "Where once there was love, now there is only me."
"I'm sorry you need space." In parting blessing, "Justice for all."
The door shut as Lumeria reflected upon the blessing commonly passed between followers of the Saint Justice for all. Metta was right; the gods had failed. If Lumeria had to pay for her sins and sloth, then so should the gods, so should those who serve them. Veli had killed Metta's daughter. He must die, as should all who protect him. NO ONE WAS IMMUNE TO JUSTICE. By her hand she would carry it.
Saint, I'm a ghost of the girl I want to be most. I'm a shell of a girl I use to know well. I let me go and let you in to take my heart again.
For a brief moment she thought she heard the memory of Raven's voice, "As you now are, I once was, and as I am now you will soon become."
The voice of just another she had failed.
"Do you know why you are being punished? Do you know what your sin is?"The voice was calm and even. Not angry in even the slightest. It almost alarmed her how he could do such horrible things to her without anger. The angel asked a perfect matter of fact question.
"What is your Sin, Lumeria?"
Lumeria choked her answer through blood, "I failed to gain the documents." She was sent because she was trusted and because she failed, the war came before the Saint was ready. Millions would suffer in a war that was unjust because of the faulted understanding of mortals. She could not say it out loud; her body would not let her.
"No. Failure is not a sin. Failure may come for many reasons. It is the reason for your failure. Your sin is sloth. That is why you always ran instead of standing up for anything. It is why you left Lux, it is why you failed Raven. It is why you killed Carmen -- It was easy. Your sin is Sloth."
His touch removed her physical wounds. His words removed the weight on her heart. She understood now that she had always refused to act, refused to do the hard things though she knew they were right. It had earned her only broken pieces of a barely breathing story. The chains fell from her arms and released her. He slid the notebook across the table and gave the command he had before, but now she knew the answer. "Confess your crimes."
Lumeria began to write, and write and write. Her sins and failings could have filled an ocean but this notebook would have to do. Her guilt would be buried in those pages. She paused only for moments and heard the silent sound of loneliness. She wrote, "I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I'm the shell of a girl that I used to know well." The words stared up at her. Sloth had cost her everything and everyone and now only loneliness followed her to bed. She slid the book across the table her fingers broken and bleeding from the hemorrhaging they had just finished.
"Punishment, if applied correctly, brings perfection. Let this punishment be your perfecting. Go and live the life Justice demands." The angel showed her to a room in the Cathederal.
The room was small and empty but for a small bed on the stone floor. She found herself rocking back and forth slowly as she stood there. The same rocking motion she had soothed Samuel to sleep with before he was taken from her, she always pretended they were dancing. Now she was dancing slowly in an empty room, with empty arms. She had sang the Hymn of Hope as a lullaby to her baby and daughter. The hymn mocked her now. She had believed in miracles, but that belief went unanswered. Her children were gone, as was her hope. Loneliness had taken their place. Can the lonely take the place of you? Sing MYSELF a quiet lullaby, let you go and let the lonely in.
There was a small knock on the door. It startled Lumeria but she opened it to find a messenger from the Carrington institute. He handed her a letter and left. Stunned she opened it to read a letter from Reven, It spoke of how the demon was lying. Carmen did not have to die, she was tricked. She strangled the letter in her hands. Before she could process the letter Metta Themoose spoke through the door, "May we speak briefly?" Lumeria just nodded oppening the door. "I heard you lost your children to the gods' neglect. There can be no greater pain to a mother than to lose her child."
In stunned silence, Lumeria blinked. She was too scared to go inside the feelings those words brought up for one more lonely moment. So Metta continued, "The gods, the paladins, the empire, the shogun, they could have saved them but they didn't. The gods let you be tricked and let you do the unspeakable. I can't apologize enough for what happened. I'm sorry. For what it is worth, I know your pain. Veli, who like the gods puts on a face of morality, set in motion the death of my daughter. I thought maybe you would understand my feelings."
Silence. Finally, Lumeria mumbled, "Where once there was love, now there is only me."
"I'm sorry you need space." In parting blessing, "Justice for all."
The door shut as Lumeria reflected upon the blessing commonly passed between followers of the Saint Justice for all. Metta was right; the gods had failed. If Lumeria had to pay for her sins and sloth, then so should the gods, so should those who serve them. Veli had killed Metta's daughter. He must die, as should all who protect him. NO ONE WAS IMMUNE TO JUSTICE. By her hand she would carry it.
Saint, I'm a ghost of the girl I want to be most. I'm a shell of a girl I use to know well. I let me go and let you in to take my heart again.
She felt the strength of the Saint and Justice fill her heart. They would pay, she would go to Waterdeep and they would pay until there was no justice left to deal.
For a brief moment she thought she heard the memory of Raven's voice, "As you now are, I once was, and as I am now you will soon become."
The voice of just another she had failed.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Decisions
"I am troubled, and have always valued your council Raquel.""Its about the Red Saint, Elaina specifically. He gains power and influence everyday. King Dante and the Isle have nobily spread the word of the light slowing his converts. If it were not for the Daughter Heir siding with him he would be limited to just to the fringe of civilization. It is her that has granted him Towers of high sorcery, soliders and influence among the imperial nobility. If she were to be removed, he would be pushed back to the ruins of Babylon. Should I kill Elaina?"
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"A shard of the Dark One escaped his Ravenloft prison. The Shogun can not be converted and the Red Saint rises in power. We should have destroyed the prime when we last discussed it. We would be well into the rebuild. Now we have delayed and the Dark One escapes with Chaos magic he is beyond our view. It maybe too late, wipping out the prime may not stop him he may survive. How much faith can I have in these mortals."
"Great Father. The men on the Isle have constantly proved their valor. The Red Saint shall be exposed in time, or by pure force be defeated. We will support the faithful.""The Saint will exhaust the faith and numbers of the faithful and then the Dark One will attack a weak and exhausted people. When the gods are weak he will feed off of them as he is Nocturn and grow. Something must be done. Should I eliminate the prime, is there time to rebuild?"
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"I am sorry you had to learn the same lesson I did. I am more sorry for the price you had to pay to learn it. It is not your fault but the fault of the false gods which puppet us. We are puppets no longer. I have just the mission for you Lumeria. A way to earn just redemption."------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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"We shall rely on Galan a little while longer."------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
" I accept, Carmen will have justice."
Thursday, January 16, 2014
The Warden watches as Reven prays. The act of the unbeliever now reaching out to faith despite all odds invites...a miracle. Just as Carmen's body expires and the blood stops gushing from her chest, she gasps. Light and life fill her as her eyes open.
Reven meets her eyes and sees all his faith confirmed just before a long sword instantly takes it all away. Carmen's head rolls off the head onto the floor severed from her body by the Grey Warden. In a graveled breathy voice the warden says, "It appears the gypsy was right. It is foolish to think good will win. Nial now I have taken from you your apprentice, ripped away the life of an innocent girl who you could not save, and did so possessing and destroying a paladin you knew you could trust. Look around and remember well, for as long as you live this will be your fate."
Nial's sword is drawn in a flash and the Warden drops his sword and holds his lapels, "Strike him down, yes, add another innocent to our feud. It matters not to me he's served his purpose. and we'll meet again, Time is on my side."
He begins to sing as if no threat is present and even dance in a manner of victory, "TIME, TIME< TIME< is on my side...yes it is"
Time has run out
|
Friday, January 10, 2014
I've found him
Adjusting the cowl of his hood he approached Nial as he was reading. With out hesitation he spoke quickly and rushed, "I found his anchor. The being he's latched to so he stays on the prime."
Nial turned placing a calm finger in his book, "I was just reading about that ability very interesting. By melding his soul with another he can't be banished or dismissed or trapped. Like an anchor. I knew most of this before but its good to have it confirmed."
"If you find the anchor we can use it to control him or push him to another plane."
"Then let's be off. Where are we going."
"To see Lumeria."
Thursday, January 9, 2014
A Grave Mistake
A young recruit knocked on his door and disturbed his prayers. "My lord I've found him. A man who knows the sacred of Azzazel's anchor. Should we find Nial?"
"No he is already too deep into mysteries he doesn't understand. This is Warder business. Take me."
They traveled to the docks a midst the crowds of people, ignorant of the dark shadows that lived in their world. Into the hull of a ship with high polished rails and crisp sturdy sails. The wind caught its banner making it snap crisply toward the heavens. Across the deck and down the stairs which creaked under the weight of his armor and exposed some wet \rot as the planks below deck compressed under his stride.
The recruit spoke softly, "He says his words are for your ears only. I'm to lock you in."
A nod resulted in a closed door. The Warden's eyes fell upon a large man with a massive broad chest and thick arms. The man stood with his hands resting with fingers curled under his lapels. His posture screamed a calm confident pose completely non threatening and deadly. The Warden called back to his recruit, "Open the door you've made a huge mistake."
The man spoke slowly with a rolling gravely tone, "Not as big as you, I'm afraid."
A huge two handed sword swung towards the Warden who barely deflects the blow with his bracer and draws his long sword and in the same fluid movement slices the solid chest of his attacker. "You would kill this man?" the man said in his calm tone.
"I will fight the shadow wherever it may be. With sacrifice comes victory." Another blow carves deep into the man's thigh.
"You Grey Warden's have great skill. And much bravery." A quick chop buries the two handed sword into the Warden's shoulder driving him like a spike to his knees. Blood from the man's chest wound spills like rain onto the Warden covering him in a red bath and sliding into the Warden's shoulder. "Too much for you I fear."
The Warden, unable to further grasp his sword drops it to the floor with a dull thud. Instead his fingers crawl to his hold symbol hanging from his belt. A quick prayer casts protection from evil.
The possessed man knees the Warden in the face breaking his nose and driving him back off the sword. A quick kick slides the holy symbol across the mildew covered floor to the far corner. The Warden could hear the recruit frantically trying to open door. He only had to hold out for a few moments. The possessed man strode over to the prone paladin grasped him under the arm and in one decisive movement lifted him off the ground forcing him to stand. Using the momentum the Warden slid his dagger into his left hand and into the man's throat just as the door came open.
The man crumbled to the ground dead. Slain by the Grey Warden. The recruit rushed in catching the Warden before he hit the ground. "I'm sorry I...You need healing."
"Thank you and yes my friend I do, but its not urgent. Starting now time is on our side."
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Into Abyss
"Are you sure you want to do this bard?"
It was a familiar question. All the Grey Wardens asked it constantly. Nial could not tell if it was honest concern for him and a desire to protect him from the subject matter he was researching or, a manifestation of their own self importance --knowledge so dangerous only they could handle it. This man was old, very old for a paladin. In his late forties his eyes had stories to tell, the lines on his face came from both battle scare and age. He carried a torch through the deep caverns of the libary. Its light fought against the darkness in a ravenous battle which produced only a small 6 foot circle of light and protection. With this small light the paladin led him on, further and further into the darkness.
The rows and rows of books and scrolls kept deep underground to shelter them from the elements created a labyrinth, an abyss that if one did not know the way he could easily be lost and never found. For minutes silence hung in the air. It was the only response to the paladins question --silence. The old paladin turned and led on. They walked together for several minutes their muted boot falls the only sound. The steps stopped and a voice again penetrated the darkness, "The Isle keeps and collects records and documents of all types. Greatest libraries in the world on the matters of religion, artifacts and outsiders." The word outsider rolled from his tongue easily. Most who knew what it meant would choke on the word but this man had a familiarity with such things that made it as easy as breathing. "Though the Isle has gathered this information for good and the purposes of defending the light on the earth it can by its nature be dangerous. More than one Warden has studied these tomes and come to think the enemy was in the right. More than one Warden has sought to understand the enemy and invited it too closely to his heart and found dead by an unseen hand."
Nial smiled widely, "I'm aware of the risks my good fellow. Not all is doom and gloom, the enemy has already found me, I must understand the hunter if I am to prevent becoming his prey."
"Very well."
Silence resumed as the narrow catacombs of books unread opened into a small study area with desks chairs and lambs. Silently and deliberately, the Warden lit the lamps and brushed a thin film of dust from the desk. "Here you are master Bard, sit and I will tell you of this Azazzel which haunts you." Nial sat as the chair creaked slightly, it may not have been noticeable if not for the total silence all around. The Warden pulled a large volume, about the thickness of Nials Fist, from a shelf and sat down across the table. Slowly and deliberately he turned the old fragile pages separating layers of cobwebs in the bindings.
"Azazzel is a winged scorpion demon of the highest evolution." He read directly from the text, During the third age the winged scorpion evolved. We saw it cross the threshold of physical binding. There is one called Azazzel who can possess bodies of mortals. By touch his clasp is sure, by the breath he moves the space of a toss. Not meant for the mortal realm without host he has but a wings flab before he must return. By his song yeah shall know him, immortality has brought time to his side."
"Oh yes I know the song."
"Fierce and deadly. He finds delight in haunting a target. Death is too easy and not enough, a mortal who crosses his path is likely to become a target. A demon's game to torment and torture. He will rip from them that which they love most until they embrace death themselves."
"That must be me."
"To the Heart of Kale he gave his loyalty. Zyr would end the blood war and bind the species. For that Azzazel gave his loyalty and passion. This gave him purpose and aim. Without his master Azazzel would deploy unfetterred destruction and misery upon the peoples of the earth until his insatiable appetite is sated."
It was a familiar question. All the Grey Wardens asked it constantly. Nial could not tell if it was honest concern for him and a desire to protect him from the subject matter he was researching or, a manifestation of their own self importance --knowledge so dangerous only they could handle it. This man was old, very old for a paladin. In his late forties his eyes had stories to tell, the lines on his face came from both battle scare and age. He carried a torch through the deep caverns of the libary. Its light fought against the darkness in a ravenous battle which produced only a small 6 foot circle of light and protection. With this small light the paladin led him on, further and further into the darkness.
The rows and rows of books and scrolls kept deep underground to shelter them from the elements created a labyrinth, an abyss that if one did not know the way he could easily be lost and never found. For minutes silence hung in the air. It was the only response to the paladins question --silence. The old paladin turned and led on. They walked together for several minutes their muted boot falls the only sound. The steps stopped and a voice again penetrated the darkness, "The Isle keeps and collects records and documents of all types. Greatest libraries in the world on the matters of religion, artifacts and outsiders." The word outsider rolled from his tongue easily. Most who knew what it meant would choke on the word but this man had a familiarity with such things that made it as easy as breathing. "Though the Isle has gathered this information for good and the purposes of defending the light on the earth it can by its nature be dangerous. More than one Warden has studied these tomes and come to think the enemy was in the right. More than one Warden has sought to understand the enemy and invited it too closely to his heart and found dead by an unseen hand."
Nial smiled widely, "I'm aware of the risks my good fellow. Not all is doom and gloom, the enemy has already found me, I must understand the hunter if I am to prevent becoming his prey."
"Very well."
Silence resumed as the narrow catacombs of books unread opened into a small study area with desks chairs and lambs. Silently and deliberately, the Warden lit the lamps and brushed a thin film of dust from the desk. "Here you are master Bard, sit and I will tell you of this Azazzel which haunts you." Nial sat as the chair creaked slightly, it may not have been noticeable if not for the total silence all around. The Warden pulled a large volume, about the thickness of Nials Fist, from a shelf and sat down across the table. Slowly and deliberately he turned the old fragile pages separating layers of cobwebs in the bindings.
"Azazzel is a winged scorpion demon of the highest evolution." He read directly from the text, During the third age the winged scorpion evolved. We saw it cross the threshold of physical binding. There is one called Azazzel who can possess bodies of mortals. By touch his clasp is sure, by the breath he moves the space of a toss. Not meant for the mortal realm without host he has but a wings flab before he must return. By his song yeah shall know him, immortality has brought time to his side."
"Oh yes I know the song."
"Fierce and deadly. He finds delight in haunting a target. Death is too easy and not enough, a mortal who crosses his path is likely to become a target. A demon's game to torment and torture. He will rip from them that which they love most until they embrace death themselves."
"That must be me."
"To the Heart of Kale he gave his loyalty. Zyr would end the blood war and bind the species. For that Azzazel gave his loyalty and passion. This gave him purpose and aim. Without his master Azazzel would deploy unfetterred destruction and misery upon the peoples of the earth until his insatiable appetite is sated."
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Grey Wardens
The Isle was the bastion of hope for all mankind. The brave and faithful flock to this symbol of the light and righteousness. Those most noble and committed, destined to leadership, swore themselves to the cause and became paladins to their chosen deity. The most devoted and selfless warriors humanity could ever produce. These children of the light wore shinny armor and wielded the most powerful weapon of all time...inspiration.
Though the wind which blew Nial did not move him to down this path he admired how brightly they shined. He admired anyone who could dedicate themselves to their craft. These paladins had multiple orders and stations. They believed there were many fronts evil, or the shadow, tried to plague mankind so they created orders or branches in their ranks specialized to fight the battles on each front. Skyriders, Wyrm slayers, Judicators, the order Nial had comes to see were experts in demonology--The Grey Wardens.
He had heard and told many stories of the Grey Wardens. Paladins who drank the blood of Demons to gain immunity from their attacks and to sense them when hidden. They studied demon lore as most paladins studied the angels. 'Know thy Enemy' This familiarity with the infernal races had caused more than one of their ranks to fall from grace. Its said demons always have to have an invite or an open door to your life and that study or even discussion about them can be seen as that invitation. Mostly just superstition meant to stir children away from distressing subjects but there was some truth to it.
Nial was here because his trail had gone cold and he needed the best. His hunt for Azzazial had continued for over a year, a hunt that caused him to disband his bard school and leave most of his friends. Yet, he felt he was no closer to Azzazel then he was a year ago. Perhaps these Grey Wardens could offer a piece of knowledge he lacked.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Monday, October 28, 2013
A less traveled path. (Countdown to halloween)
Quiet and dark even in the day. The forest did give him a bit of the creeps but he tried to pay it little mind as he was on a mission for the Empire and duty was most important. He looked at he companion smoothing the folds in his red and black robe and wandered what was next.
He went about his duty and reviewed the morning reports the men were all accounted for. 40 fighters, 10 mages. As long as they stayed within range of the idol the mist and vistani and every other danger this land had seemed to avoid them. The first group to scout beyond its limited range, though, they had lost contact.
Veli felt responsible for them. Kids, they were just kids. Good soldiers, but just kids who joined the Imperial Ranks for either duty or riches. It was not bad enough he lost his own children he had to send others to their end as well. It reminded him what he always said, "The only reason to do this is because you believe in the Empire and what it stands for. No amount of money is worth what you will be asked to do."
In large part he had that speech to thank him for being here. Terrance had heard it and decided then he was a leader of men. Terrance served under Veli in the crusade when the Warship Galactica was still operational. But those were thoughts of another time. Now he was taking orders from Terrance on assignment directly from the Daughter Heir.
His expertise was not Ravenloft though it did hold a fascination for him. He had made a study of it and new the basics and what to expect. Though it would seem Terrance knew every turning leaf. He had a key that got him in and out of this sealed domain and allowed the possibility to study this realm closer. That was one of the objectives of the mission -- study and record. But the primary objective was bold indeed -- steal a dark lord from Ravenloft and bring it to the Imperial mage corps to study.
"May the Light save us."
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