Sun Mar 21, 2004 6:12 am
Doctor David D'Rael stood some good many meters from where the ground was starting to show that awful influence, gloved hands comfortably placed in vest pockets while David simply looked on at the spires, attentively. The sun was set high, casting all shadows directly to the earth; he wouldn't be here any other time.
He had an idea what those spires meant. The doc had certainly seen a lot in his relatively short time alive; his kin were devils and angels, his life a warring one through his childhood.
Now, it might continue again. Except the enemy wasn't just another nation attacking his own, but another faceless darkness threatening more than just the land David lived on...
* * *
The sun was beginning to fall from the sky, but there was still ample light creating dark shadows from every object with a dimension in height. Captain Thomas Daniels, Private Janis Williams and Sergeant Jack Hickensen stood in almost the same locale as the good doctor had not more than half a day ago; but after a small converse between the three, they ventured further. All dressed in the Straka uniform, Daniels and Hickensen stepped onto the sickly ground with swords drawn, Williams with her book of rudimentary fire spells.
One lap around a single spire, they had decided. Quickly, before the light was anywhere close to gone.
Thomas figured more information to bring back to the lieutenants was never unwelcome, but he hoped their swift course would bring no surprises...
He had an idea what those spires meant. The doc had certainly seen a lot in his relatively short time alive; his kin were devils and angels, his life a warring one through his childhood.
Now, it might continue again. Except the enemy wasn't just another nation attacking his own, but another faceless darkness threatening more than just the land David lived on...
* * *
The sun was beginning to fall from the sky, but there was still ample light creating dark shadows from every object with a dimension in height. Captain Thomas Daniels, Private Janis Williams and Sergeant Jack Hickensen stood in almost the same locale as the good doctor had not more than half a day ago; but after a small converse between the three, they ventured further. All dressed in the Straka uniform, Daniels and Hickensen stepped onto the sickly ground with swords drawn, Williams with her book of rudimentary fire spells.
One lap around a single spire, they had decided. Quickly, before the light was anywhere close to gone.
Thomas figured more information to bring back to the lieutenants was never unwelcome, but he hoped their swift course would bring no surprises...
Pieces to the puzzle...
Tue Mar 23, 2004 5:58 am
The Gypsy crouches... Upon the suken edge of a large depression in the ground, not far from Mryken town, surounded on all sides by fallen trees.... One hand resting upon her knee while the other digs into the muddied dirt, and as the rain falls....She remembers...
It was sometime ago...close to two months perhaps. The night was quiet, very little going, the spires not even a dark dream in the minds of the Mryken Populace. The elfing Solena was in conflict with another... This alone was nothing to be alarmed about, least not in the Gypsy's eyes... Though it seemed in after thought and all that is now known, to be a small piece of a larger puzzle... words and blows were exchanged..but on a whole she could not recall the altercation to an exact...And things soon took a turn for the worst, as hordes of dwellers from the underdark rose up to lay siege to the sleeping citizens. they faught Gallently but would have undoubtable been over run save not for an unlikly ally. for those Demons it seemed and perhaps a plee from one imparticular, awoke a sleeping giant. This beast rose from its lair beneath the soil...to smite the demon threat....before it dove once again into hiding...
It all seemed a haze when the Gypsy experienced the night in question....emotions over came her to such a state that she awoke the next day with little memory of what occured save the obvious marks of battle upon her person.. And she nearly put the incedent clear out of her mind..Till a chance conversation with the Healer Lamai had her memory draw back to that very night and the path of the beast disapearence...
Quincy, and a few other having drawn the conclusion that to defeat the Spires and HE who was their creator..they had to journey to their beginning..to that underworld. The scout had intended to dig herself there, till the healer let it be known that a path though possibly blocked already exsisted....
Then there it was...that memory....still vague but it lingered, mixed within the slashing and gutting of that night...she caught the beast disappearence from afar....The General area frozen in a picture of massive black wings. and so she searched...
And here she stood now, looking down gazing at the disturbed earth....that was drinking up springs first rainfall.. They had a starting point....a possibily path..if the earth that bares them like iron gates can be removed.... all that is needed now.. is a plan...And it best be designed soon.... For now three Large Spires stand in triangular guard upon the center jewel... and a uncountable amount of smaller obelisks, wind northward from the Northen most Spire....
Indeed at the time that night seemed of little matter in the grand scheme...but now it seems that would be ally was perhaps simply saving the spoils for himself....
It was sometime ago...close to two months perhaps. The night was quiet, very little going, the spires not even a dark dream in the minds of the Mryken Populace. The elfing Solena was in conflict with another... This alone was nothing to be alarmed about, least not in the Gypsy's eyes... Though it seemed in after thought and all that is now known, to be a small piece of a larger puzzle... words and blows were exchanged..but on a whole she could not recall the altercation to an exact...And things soon took a turn for the worst, as hordes of dwellers from the underdark rose up to lay siege to the sleeping citizens. they faught Gallently but would have undoubtable been over run save not for an unlikly ally. for those Demons it seemed and perhaps a plee from one imparticular, awoke a sleeping giant. This beast rose from its lair beneath the soil...to smite the demon threat....before it dove once again into hiding...
It all seemed a haze when the Gypsy experienced the night in question....emotions over came her to such a state that she awoke the next day with little memory of what occured save the obvious marks of battle upon her person.. And she nearly put the incedent clear out of her mind..Till a chance conversation with the Healer Lamai had her memory draw back to that very night and the path of the beast disapearence...
Quincy, and a few other having drawn the conclusion that to defeat the Spires and HE who was their creator..they had to journey to their beginning..to that underworld. The scout had intended to dig herself there, till the healer let it be known that a path though possibly blocked already exsisted....
Then there it was...that memory....still vague but it lingered, mixed within the slashing and gutting of that night...she caught the beast disappearence from afar....The General area frozen in a picture of massive black wings. and so she searched...
And here she stood now, looking down gazing at the disturbed earth....that was drinking up springs first rainfall.. They had a starting point....a possibily path..if the earth that bares them like iron gates can be removed.... all that is needed now.. is a plan...And it best be designed soon.... For now three Large Spires stand in triangular guard upon the center jewel... and a uncountable amount of smaller obelisks, wind northward from the Northen most Spire....
Indeed at the time that night seemed of little matter in the grand scheme...but now it seems that would be ally was perhaps simply saving the spoils for himself....
Carcerian Anguish
Tue Mar 23, 2004 5:43 pm
...He stirred from another night fraught with those horrid nightmares. He could feel his blood boiling with rage, anger and hatred -- a stark contrast to the eternal calm that the Aasimari Eredwarian expatriate used to feel. Something was changing deep within his psyche and these passing night terrors, only the first he could remember had begun to take their toll upon his mind.
It was the same hopeless despair, of self-loathing that he had felt when he spent that seeming aeon of torment in the darkest cages of the Red Plane of Anguish and Imprisonment. Was it a remnant from his tortures and tribulations that had finally come back to visit him after all this time or was it something else? He could not say.
He looked out his window at the dawning sun and walked outside, kneeling and giving the morning prayers as to the account of his faith. He gave a particularly empassioned prayer to the Sun God Elyndhor and the patron saints of the Tormented, St. Augur and St. Lyrena Zaramistra of Kryn Varil, in hopes that their divine favor would somehow lift this curse from his mind.
"Om, shanti... meyjri ramala toi havain solari... om um ahm... om um ahm..." he chanted as the sun finally broke the horizon -- he opened his dark eyes, the iridescent blue streaks that betrayed his heritage glimmering faintly behind the onslaught of equinoxical light.
Of course, the lemurs still had remained on his property, despite his earnest efforts to rid himself of the nauseatingly cute little beasts. They too seemed to have perched and meditated themselves with the rising of the sun, their white underbellies exposed to the warm, yellow morning light -- their arms outstretched making them resemble reverential wise men. It was quite a sight. Haar, however, had no time for it and rose -- walking back into his house and started preparing what little he could eat. He looked haggard and exhausted. There were black circles assaulting his eyes and the signs of fatigue were beginning to wear upon his once youthful features.
He had to figure out what was causing this, and perhaps if it was related to these horrific spires that had arisen from the woods. He had also been growing paranoid, rarely going into town unless it was relatively dark and he was under the guise of cloak, even in the heat of the spring afternoon.
This day was different though, soon after the sun had risen -- the distended clouds of the early spring storms had shrouded the comforting rays of this world's primary. He sighed deeply and realized that he had to go back into Myrken for provisions -- wrapping himself in his heavy, dust-drenched travelling cloak and picking up his sword.
Leaving his house, the paladin turned his gaze towards the ground and made a hurried, nervous walk -- being followed a bit of the way by a couple of the younger lemurs that had taken residence on his property. They chittered cutely enough, only to be cast an angry, hateful look by the irritated man.
Continuing on, he wandered into one of the outlying farmers markets in Myrken Wood. Haar quickly moved to pick out varying fruits and dried meats to last him the rest of the week before he had to come back to pick up more provisions. He nodded slightly and offered a shaky hand full of coin in exchange for the goods. He scuttled off back into the woods before coming to a clearing and seeing a child playing happily by a babbling brook... something had overtaken his mind. He envisioned the child being infected by this insidious death that was creeping over the land and no longer saw the pure innocence of youth -- but rather the dank corruption of evil... drawing his sword, his mind went black and...
...an hour later -- when he came too, he saw the blood rushing through the river and the mutilated body of the child -- what little remained of it and he clutched his head, screaming in agony...
"WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" -- birds flew from their nests in the trees, their sqwuaking muffling his further screams of tormet.
It was the same hopeless despair, of self-loathing that he had felt when he spent that seeming aeon of torment in the darkest cages of the Red Plane of Anguish and Imprisonment. Was it a remnant from his tortures and tribulations that had finally come back to visit him after all this time or was it something else? He could not say.
He looked out his window at the dawning sun and walked outside, kneeling and giving the morning prayers as to the account of his faith. He gave a particularly empassioned prayer to the Sun God Elyndhor and the patron saints of the Tormented, St. Augur and St. Lyrena Zaramistra of Kryn Varil, in hopes that their divine favor would somehow lift this curse from his mind.
"Om, shanti... meyjri ramala toi havain solari... om um ahm... om um ahm..." he chanted as the sun finally broke the horizon -- he opened his dark eyes, the iridescent blue streaks that betrayed his heritage glimmering faintly behind the onslaught of equinoxical light.
Of course, the lemurs still had remained on his property, despite his earnest efforts to rid himself of the nauseatingly cute little beasts. They too seemed to have perched and meditated themselves with the rising of the sun, their white underbellies exposed to the warm, yellow morning light -- their arms outstretched making them resemble reverential wise men. It was quite a sight. Haar, however, had no time for it and rose -- walking back into his house and started preparing what little he could eat. He looked haggard and exhausted. There were black circles assaulting his eyes and the signs of fatigue were beginning to wear upon his once youthful features.
He had to figure out what was causing this, and perhaps if it was related to these horrific spires that had arisen from the woods. He had also been growing paranoid, rarely going into town unless it was relatively dark and he was under the guise of cloak, even in the heat of the spring afternoon.
This day was different though, soon after the sun had risen -- the distended clouds of the early spring storms had shrouded the comforting rays of this world's primary. He sighed deeply and realized that he had to go back into Myrken for provisions -- wrapping himself in his heavy, dust-drenched travelling cloak and picking up his sword.
Leaving his house, the paladin turned his gaze towards the ground and made a hurried, nervous walk -- being followed a bit of the way by a couple of the younger lemurs that had taken residence on his property. They chittered cutely enough, only to be cast an angry, hateful look by the irritated man.
Continuing on, he wandered into one of the outlying farmers markets in Myrken Wood. Haar quickly moved to pick out varying fruits and dried meats to last him the rest of the week before he had to come back to pick up more provisions. He nodded slightly and offered a shaky hand full of coin in exchange for the goods. He scuttled off back into the woods before coming to a clearing and seeing a child playing happily by a babbling brook... something had overtaken his mind. He envisioned the child being infected by this insidious death that was creeping over the land and no longer saw the pure innocence of youth -- but rather the dank corruption of evil... drawing his sword, his mind went black and...
...an hour later -- when he came too, he saw the blood rushing through the river and the mutilated body of the child -- what little remained of it and he clutched his head, screaming in agony...
"WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" -- birds flew from their nests in the trees, their sqwuaking muffling his further screams of tormet.
Sun Mar 28, 2004 9:53 am
The sound of a turning wheel is strong, drumming in the Chakravat's mind with a tempo of its own. There is something familiar about the sound, but it is somehow wrong. Never has he heard such distress.
Faster and faster, creating its own rhythms, setting free terrors best left unnamed and nightmares better left undreamt. Mikhail Joshua Redjoy, taken up by the outrage of a million souls, is taken away...
For the Chakravat, there is no respite. A journey repeated thousands of time during the ages has gone awry, terribly awry , and there is nothing he can do to save himself, his very existence and immortal soul.
Cries of celestial fury, terrible in their demands for judgment, swiftly strip the man of his identity, steal the man's name and leaves him an empty husk. There is laughter, aye, unforgiving denunciation of the man's dreams and hopes that will never be.
Daggers of ethereal punishement strike at him, and he labors to defend himself as best he can, drawing on reserves of power he knew naught existed. Once he might've known how to tap these without thought; now he uses those as a drowning man might clutch a lifeline.
Physical blows stagger him, push him forward in a direction he has no wish to explore. And the Red Eye moves overhead, shining its light down on him.
Suddenly, it ends. Whether or not he has been found wanting will never be known, for as he focuses on the One Eye, the wheel turns again, draws him forth into its waiting arms, and all falls away forever...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Where am I?
What am I?
Who am I?
Why?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thunder strikes, and a reborn soul awakens.
Physical form is taken, anchored in a reality thought long-forgotten.
How can he remember? Memories are intangible. Colored by perceptions and emotions born on a level unreachable by the most common of mortals.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I never was such a man, was I? I remember so little...
You remember enough. You remember yourself. You must remember me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blood can be tasted. The nectar of life, flowing through the man's veins, stain his arms, his legs, his mouth. How did he come to be here?
Half-remembered dreams echo in his thoughts. A man given terrible purpose at the end of time itself, that would mark him for an ending different from all others. Given unto him by...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Red Eye. It came to take us all away. Or did it... take us all back?
You remember enough.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is a name waiting for him at the end of all dreams. Joshua... Joshua Redjoy. Aye, that is the name he once had, which the Red Eye allowed him to keep.
The Chakravat opens his eyes, twin malachite orbs look down to his prone form as he pulls himself from the ground.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Was that my name? I remember so little... Conflict, mayhem, death and destruction, they called me to this place.
You remember yourself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He has armor and weapons. Though he has never touched them, the Chakravat knows that they are his, for they had been waiting for him at the end all of all dreams as well.
The forest around him is cold and silent, the blood at his feet cool and hissing in the moonlight. Over the horizon, a triad of spires rise, threatening to pull the sky, the stars and the moon away and suddenly, the Chakravat is afraid. Terribly afraid. Without thinking, he turns and runs. Runs faster and farther that he has ever ran in his life, guided on his path by the guardian of his soul.
The guardian scares him more. And he cannot say why.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leave me be! I did not ask for this! All I wanted was for the end to take me!
You must remember me.
Faster and faster, creating its own rhythms, setting free terrors best left unnamed and nightmares better left undreamt. Mikhail Joshua Redjoy, taken up by the outrage of a million souls, is taken away...
For the Chakravat, there is no respite. A journey repeated thousands of time during the ages has gone awry, terribly awry , and there is nothing he can do to save himself, his very existence and immortal soul.
Cries of celestial fury, terrible in their demands for judgment, swiftly strip the man of his identity, steal the man's name and leaves him an empty husk. There is laughter, aye, unforgiving denunciation of the man's dreams and hopes that will never be.
Daggers of ethereal punishement strike at him, and he labors to defend himself as best he can, drawing on reserves of power he knew naught existed. Once he might've known how to tap these without thought; now he uses those as a drowning man might clutch a lifeline.
Physical blows stagger him, push him forward in a direction he has no wish to explore. And the Red Eye moves overhead, shining its light down on him.
Suddenly, it ends. Whether or not he has been found wanting will never be known, for as he focuses on the One Eye, the wheel turns again, draws him forth into its waiting arms, and all falls away forever...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Where am I?
What am I?
Who am I?
Why?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thunder strikes, and a reborn soul awakens.
Physical form is taken, anchored in a reality thought long-forgotten.
How can he remember? Memories are intangible. Colored by perceptions and emotions born on a level unreachable by the most common of mortals.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I never was such a man, was I? I remember so little...
You remember enough. You remember yourself. You must remember me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blood can be tasted. The nectar of life, flowing through the man's veins, stain his arms, his legs, his mouth. How did he come to be here?
Half-remembered dreams echo in his thoughts. A man given terrible purpose at the end of time itself, that would mark him for an ending different from all others. Given unto him by...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Red Eye. It came to take us all away. Or did it... take us all back?
You remember enough.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is a name waiting for him at the end of all dreams. Joshua... Joshua Redjoy. Aye, that is the name he once had, which the Red Eye allowed him to keep.
The Chakravat opens his eyes, twin malachite orbs look down to his prone form as he pulls himself from the ground.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Was that my name? I remember so little... Conflict, mayhem, death and destruction, they called me to this place.
You remember yourself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He has armor and weapons. Though he has never touched them, the Chakravat knows that they are his, for they had been waiting for him at the end all of all dreams as well.
The forest around him is cold and silent, the blood at his feet cool and hissing in the moonlight. Over the horizon, a triad of spires rise, threatening to pull the sky, the stars and the moon away and suddenly, the Chakravat is afraid. Terribly afraid. Without thinking, he turns and runs. Runs faster and farther that he has ever ran in his life, guided on his path by the guardian of his soul.
The guardian scares him more. And he cannot say why.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leave me be! I did not ask for this! All I wanted was for the end to take me!
You must remember me.
Tue Jun 01, 2004 4:31 pm
He stares out into the woods from his 'special' place. Long now had he felt it...the evil that radiated from within. The elf was the one that first made him aware of just how dire the situation was. He shared no bond with the forest as she did but still knew it's importance.
Slowly he would rise, starting to turn and head home when he would feel it...someone or something watching him. He would stare back, face an emotionless mask. His head tilted animalistically as a dark and somewhat crazed grin touched his lips.
I seeeeee you
And then the emotion was gone again. He simply turned away and headed home, thinking that he and the ranger needed to start planning a few things.
Slowly he would rise, starting to turn and head home when he would feel it...someone or something watching him. He would stare back, face an emotionless mask. His head tilted animalistically as a dark and somewhat crazed grin touched his lips.
I seeeeee you
And then the emotion was gone again. He simply turned away and headed home, thinking that he and the ranger needed to start planning a few things.
Wed Jun 02, 2004 12:30 pm
She had sensed it. The evil that lies within the forest seemed to watch all. The elf knew it was there and eyes would shift along the tree line. An inward shiver made.
It wasn't enough she had her own troubles to deal with, now this. It brought back old memories of another evil that once was and perhaps never left.
She moved quickly along the forest path to check upon her own secret place. Thankful it was not discovered yet by the evil felt. She too would turn and head back home quickly. She would warn all of her friends, or those she had left. The elf could not fight this alone.
It wasn't enough she had her own troubles to deal with, now this. It brought back old memories of another evil that once was and perhaps never left.
She moved quickly along the forest path to check upon her own secret place. Thankful it was not discovered yet by the evil felt. She too would turn and head back home quickly. She would warn all of her friends, or those she had left. The elf could not fight this alone.
Mon Sep 06, 2004 3:50 am
Ooh. Really OLD thread. But I am bored. Am posting anyway. Pfffttttt. 
--
The portly, curly-haired, thirtysomething saleswoman had just arrived back to Myrken Wood after a week of bartering for new brocade patterns up north -- the night was a pretty one, with a clear sky and cool autumn breeze, and she had quite a few new acquisitions, and -- well, she could almost forget the fact that the wheels were turning.
She'd seen the Spires before. Her dead husband had fought them -- they'd spelled the beginning of the end for the little family in the cliffhold. She herself knew quite a bit about them, as selling fabric wasn't usually the only thing she did while traveling through places that contained libraries and informative friends. She hadn't spent years in bardic training for nothing, after all.
And tonight, confirmation was recieved.
The man had crawled out of a bush, stood before Channe and Bishop, maggots and cockroaches with scream-white human faces trickling from his shirtsleeves and sunken eye-sockets. He had an amulet.
She had asked for answers, and she recieved them.
"You want answers... the Northmen are tumbling down. The prince has fallen, the princess weeps... the King is come."
A warning, or a threat?
--
The portly, curly-haired, thirtysomething saleswoman had just arrived back to Myrken Wood after a week of bartering for new brocade patterns up north -- the night was a pretty one, with a clear sky and cool autumn breeze, and she had quite a few new acquisitions, and -- well, she could almost forget the fact that the wheels were turning.
She'd seen the Spires before. Her dead husband had fought them -- they'd spelled the beginning of the end for the little family in the cliffhold. She herself knew quite a bit about them, as selling fabric wasn't usually the only thing she did while traveling through places that contained libraries and informative friends. She hadn't spent years in bardic training for nothing, after all.
And tonight, confirmation was recieved.
The man had crawled out of a bush, stood before Channe and Bishop, maggots and cockroaches with scream-white human faces trickling from his shirtsleeves and sunken eye-sockets. He had an amulet.
She had asked for answers, and she recieved them.
"You want answers... the Northmen are tumbling down. The prince has fallen, the princess weeps... the King is come."
A warning, or a threat?
Tue Sep 07, 2004 8:13 pm
The tree said at the spires he would find his answers.. as to why she was a tree, not a person anymore. The dragon didn't understand, but he saught answers. To the towers he went in vague confusion to see why the tree was a tree and not a he or a she.
To his displeasure, the tower did measure.. 300 feet high, marring the sky. A blasphemous beast, disturbing nature's peace. Its depths did explore, studying its lore. But the dragon found little, of times of yore. He found scent of mirth and decadence, demon's malevolence. Not what he saught, but some answers in a bit of a draught. Tnari malice indeed, that was the evil seed that had sown people in to trees, instead of being hes and shes.
Once with the tower done, the dragon left it since its occupants had gone. A quasit lept free with him, Maelstrom prayed for a seraphim. To smack the disgrace, that was the smile on its mischevious little face. This time the dragon studied the outside of the tower, to study its structural power. Finding it weakened, he set up beacons, for elements of spells for a storm.
The weather grew dreary as the dragon grew weary of the blemished filth on the land. He took his stand and the tower fell, striking the ground with a thunderous knell, that shook the lands of Myrkwood to its core. The tower stood.. Awk.. nevermore!
To his displeasure, the tower did measure.. 300 feet high, marring the sky. A blasphemous beast, disturbing nature's peace. Its depths did explore, studying its lore. But the dragon found little, of times of yore. He found scent of mirth and decadence, demon's malevolence. Not what he saught, but some answers in a bit of a draught. Tnari malice indeed, that was the evil seed that had sown people in to trees, instead of being hes and shes.
Once with the tower done, the dragon left it since its occupants had gone. A quasit lept free with him, Maelstrom prayed for a seraphim. To smack the disgrace, that was the smile on its mischevious little face. This time the dragon studied the outside of the tower, to study its structural power. Finding it weakened, he set up beacons, for elements of spells for a storm.
The weather grew dreary as the dragon grew weary of the blemished filth on the land. He took his stand and the tower fell, striking the ground with a thunderous knell, that shook the lands of Myrkwood to its core. The tower stood.. Awk.. nevermore!
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