Tidings of Joy, I bring you. Tidings of joy - yet, you weep. Tidings of Woe, I bring you. Tidings of Woe - still, you weep.
What does it matter, sweet lamb? If yay or nay I speak? Tidings of Joy, Tidings of Woe? There is no pleasure for the meek.
He could not remember where the words had come from - doubtless their true meaning lost in translation - but they had always stuck with him. A foggy, unclear memory danced behind his eyes and he strained to focus upon it. The vision eluded him and he sighed, leaning his head against the cool marble pillar.
"She is gone." The elder said flatly.
I know. He thought to himself, then his eyes opened and his gaze met that of the old man. "I know."
"My son," he began, stammering as a heavy fit of coughing threatened. "Why are you here?"
Rakar Silvertide blinked and moved across the room, past the prostrate body of the Lady of Fire. "It is a story best saved for mulled wine by the fire on a chilly winter night."
"There is no winter here, Rakar," he managed, daubing at his mouth with a stained handkerchief. "And even still, I will not likely live to see another. Tell me now."
Rakar glanced down at the Dynast, then nodded and led the man he called Father away. The room they soon found themselves in was scarcely larger than a closet; big enough for two cushioned chairs and a lamp only. It was a reading nook favored by some Dynast's daughter generations ago - and not used since, judgeing by the thick layer of dust covering the open book on the table and everything else.
Once the older man was settled in a chair, Rakar pulled his own chair closer and leaned in, whispering despite their solitude in a forgotten corner of the estate.
"Even were you not on your deathbed, Fa,"he began harshly,"I trust you implicitly. Still, a warning... for the good of your world as much as my own, these words must never leave this room."
He managed a nod and forced a smile. "Please...tell me."
There was a long, pregnant pause.
"Mine are a dying people. Powerful, intelligent, ambitious. Maybe too much of all three. I- In my world I am the foremost Walker. Few can do for a few hours what I have managed to do for eighteen years here. I Walk in the body of another man, I become him. I am-" He shook his head sadly. "I am the final hope of my people, Fa. And I came here, seeking... salvation."
"Salvation?" The old man laughed. "In this God-forsaken pit of Hell? This world of the dead? What secrets lay here?" His laughter shifted and he gasped, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.
"Nothing. There is nothing on your world that can save us."
"Then-"
Rakar's eyes met the older man's and he cast a glance briefly in the general direction of the room where Irena lay once again.
"Yes."
"And you followed her here?"
Shaking his head again, Rakar sighed. "Not exactly. I was Walking here before I felt her presense. But- When I felt her I knew why I chose this place. It is destiny."
"Tidings of Joy..." the older man mumbled, his eyes glazing over slowly. "Yet you weep."
"What? Where did you hear that?"
"Tidings...woe..." he hacked, bright blood staining his kerchief. "Still....you-"
Weep.
Came the vocie inside his head, strong and clear. It is a prophesy, my son... And it is as true on this world as on your own... and... I suspect, on hers.
"Fa?" Rakar questioned blankly, then his consciousness surged as the web flared around him.
He saw a glowing white rift forming in the imperceptible fabric of the web, and a tall woman with flowing hair stepped through. He saw this all as he fell. And then...he saw nothing.
Posted by Pheenie @ 10:26 PM
6.08.2005
Transferral
Kyliea the Watcher licked the dust from her lips as she squinted at the morning sun. It was going to be hot again today, a day for a cold drink, if she could afford one. The little luxuries, like drink, that she allowed herself were harder to come by as the caravans became fewer and more infrequent.
Her fingers idly seeking a dustfly wich had successfully found its way inside her robes, she settled herself wearily in her new roost at the edge of the bazaar. Previously, she had frequented the large wharf until the fishermen drove her off, accusing her of stealing. Her! With all the thieves that abound in this town, they chose her for their accusations.
"Kyliea!"
She looked about her and saw a band of six urchins descending on her, their eyes bright and eager.
"Good morning, children," she grimaced, exposing her teeth. "What is it you wish of me?"
"Tell us about the Web," the chorused, surging around her.
"Be off with you, street waste!" she moaned, waving an arm. "The sun will be hot today. I'll not add to the dryness of my throat telling you stories of the Web for free."
"Please Kyliea?" one whined.
"We'll fetch you water," promised another.
"I have money."
The last offer caught at Kyliea's attention like a magnet. Her eyes fastened hungrily on the copper coin extended in a grubby hand. That coin and four of its brother would buy her a reprise from the heat inside one of the shady local inns.
Where the boy had gotten it mattered not, he most likely stole it. What concerned Kyliea was how to transfer the wealth from the boy to herself. She considered taking it by force, but decided against it. The bazaar was rapidly filling with people, and open bullying of children would doubtless draw repercussions. Besides, the nimble urchins could outrun her with ease. She would just have to earn it honestly. Disgusting, the depths to which she had sunk.
"Very well child," she smiled extending her hand. "give me the money and you shall have you tale of the Web."
"After I hear the story," the boy announced haughtily. "you shall have the coin....if I feel the story is worth it. It is the custom."
"So it is." Kyliea forced her smile wider. "Come, sit here beside me so you can hear every detail."
The boy did as he was told, blissfully unaware that he was placing himself within Kyliea's long, quick reach. Only a few moments more, she thought, and chaos would descend on the bazaar. Her brother Rakar was working his magic, and the Web was opening up. "Gather round children," she ushered the rest of the urchins closer. Just a few moments more.
She shoved roughly at the forest of small legs before her, clearing a small space in the ground which she swept smooth with her hand. With quick, practiced strokes, she drew a symbol in the dirt.
"What is that?" one child asked.
Kyliea put her finger to her lips, hushing them, and pointed out into the swarm of bazaar patrons. She watched as the urchins followed her gesture. Now!
Thin strands of liquid light appeared ripping open a space in the air in front of them, twisting a bending outwards. Tearing sounds, like cloth shreading, filled the bazaar. Men and women began to scatter, dropping bags. Pack animals, tethered at the bazaar enterance broke loose and galloped wildly into the grocery stalls and vendors.
"You will have you story!" Kyliea shouted to the urchins, her hand motioning feverently to the abnomily. The children began to scream.
Thunderous, crackling energies tore through the crowd. "The Web opens!"
And Dorion Volsky steped into their world.
Posted by Happy Potato @ 6:12 PM
6.05.2005
Transitional Building
"She evidentally knows more then she lead you to believe, eh VC?"
Dorion looked over at Senator Rawn, her wry smile concealing what she heard in his voice. It made her feel fear, for a moment. Dorion was sure that Irena didn't know everything, but the thought that this part of her plan was playing out differently then she had expected, lead her to question her next move. When she replied, her words were firm. "She know nothing more then what is necessary at this point, Senator. I will remind you again, although it seems that you are not interested in absorbing the facts. Irena is still convinced that she needs to discover the incantation to resurrect Myles, that fact is still intact. Furthermore, she is still under the understanding that Rakar only poses an obstacle, a barrier in her search for information. She believes he holds the key to the incantation, that is all. If you are implying that she realizes the grander scheme, I will remind you again and again, that she does not."
Senator Rawn's position at the edge of the viewing pool cast long shadows acrossed his face, restricitng his expression from Dorion. She, however, did not need any light to cast illumination on his character. It was obvious that he was shifting his attitude ever so slightly into a tease. That made her angry and uncomfotable. Dorion was not accustom to maniac changes in her emotions. She was commonly reffered to as the 'The Stone' by many in the temple. Even if she was caught off-guard, it was rare to see her lose her temper. Standing now in the presence of one of her doubters, or at least a skeptic, who taunted her better judgment, made her tremble with rage. "I can see where this is going Senator," Dorion said, her tone stern, but composed. "And I will gladly entertain you at some other time. My invitation to witness this was not without some conditions."
"Don't tell me that I'm over-stepping my bounds?"
"Oh,Vasal," she called the Senator by his given name. "I'm not, nor would I ever accuse you of such thing." She tasted the flecks of fire she sent in his direction. "I do have a tremedous amount of work to do. I'm sure you understand. I didn't realize what having you here would do. I'm far to interested in our small talk to maintain my necessary focus on the situation at hand. I must ask you to give me some time alone. I thank you for keeping me company."
Senator Rawn bowed slightly, but gave no indication that her words meant anything to him. "I'm terribly sorry, VC." his voice was dry and devoid of any sincerity. "I will give you the space you require." He left.
Dorion stiffened with an irritation disproportionate to the offense. Quickly she turned her attention back to the viewing pool. Irena was in the midst of talking to the elder Silvertide, fortuneately it looked as if Dorion had managed to excuse the Senator before Irena finished her conversation. Her eyes searched the picture for Rakar, but found him missing. Gone most likely, Dorion thought. She swatted at a bug near her face. Wait. She paused. It was at that moment the viewing pool exploded. Dorion screamed as firey liquid flew onto her robes, setting fire to them. She fell to the floor, rolling madly. She heard people entering the room and many voices too numerous to make out what they were saying. Blackness took her then and Dorion Volsky saw the face Rakar Silvertide, smiling, before she forgot herself and fell into oblivion.
Posted by Happy Potato @ 2:00 PM
6.03.2005
Unanswered Questions
Her eyes fluttered.
Above her she saw the rough-hewn planks of an unfamiliar ceiling and she forced body, despite its protests, to sit up.
"Keep still, Dynast," the old man's gravelly voice barked. There was a certain amount of comfort in his command and she eased back onto the pillows.
"Silvertide...?" She asked, her voice waivering with uncertainty as the image swam before her eyes. "Yes. Silvertide...stables... Tchii... Rakar!"
Bolt upright, she sat again, and searched the small room anxiously. Dresser, top drawer hanging open; closet, cracked open with a flannel shirt sleeve peeking out the bottom; general disarray and clutter atop every available surface. Chairs? One occupied by the old man. The other? Over-turned in haste, but vacated.
"He has gone, my Lady, but he will return." The Stablemaster staggered to unsteady feet, wheezing as he approached the bed. One calloused hand rested upon her shoulder, urging her back into the pillows. "You may be fresh, but the body has lain dormant too long and it will be slower in recovering."
"The body..." She said stupidly, her brow furrowing suddenly. "You know?"
The elder Silvertide nodded, wiping a spot of bloody spittle from the corner of his lips as a coughing fit subsided. "I do."
"How long?"
He shrugged, moving his hand in a lazy circle. "Time is irrelevant, Dynast. Here, anyway..."
Irena felt the body's head nodding and yet was aware of something disturbing her physical form's peaceful meditation. "Yes, here it doesn't matter. Still, I need to know."
"No others suspect; save my son."
"Rakar knows." Her voice was hollow and she found herself flicking a hand near her head, as if warding off a bothersome fly she could not see.
"Aye. More than I know, I should think."
"Then you know...that he is a projector too?"
The old man chuckled shaking his head slightly. "Nay, my Lady, Rakar is not a projector of your ilk. He is something different."
Irena moistened parched lips with her small pink tongue, weighing his words carefully.
He continued, not waiting for her question to form. "Rakar has gone, I know not where so do not ask. He will return, of this I am certain. A man knows his own son."
"Surely you realize, that... that he is not truly your son."
There was a heavy moment of silence and the old man nodded. "Aye, Rakar as I know him is not my son. And yet, he is. I have known the man since infancy, in such a way that I will never know the spirit born into my son's body." The elder Silvertide looked at the Dynast carefully for a long moment. "His work here is not done. Nor, I suspect is yours."
She opened her mouth - no, not mine - she reminded herself, then stopped, swatting again at an intangible fly buzzing around her subconscious.
"Why have you come, Dynast?" The old man asked bluntly.
"I have come to seek a-" Her voice faltered with her concentration and there was a disruption of the body's breath. It lurched as she struggled to regain control of its animation and she felt a curse leave her lips.
She was not sure which set of lips, on which plane, it came from...
Posted by Pheenie @ 10:21 PM
6.01.2005
Tidings
The surface of the pool reflected back the image of Dorion Volsky, her deep midnight hair, her sharp blue eyes and her wry smile. For a moment she studied her reflection, distorted breifly by small ripples on the surface. Funny how such small lines do that to your face, she thought absently. I'm getting too old for this.
Although many considered her young for her postion as Vice-Chief of the Web, she knew better. Her smooth features and grayless hair belied what she internally had to accept. Regardless of the power she held, nothing could stem the slow dissolvement of her spirit as it fed the Web along with all those who existed here with her.
"What's on your mind today VC?"
Dorion looked up from the pool, noticing a tall gentleman with long silver hair move into the room. "Senator Rawn." she addressed the man with her signature grin. "I was just about to look in on Irena, care to join me?"
The Senator smiled in return, moving with a slight limp towards the water. "Mmm. I think I might for a while. You know she'll start in on the cover up story once she wakes up. You won't see what you want to see, Dorion, you know that. At least not all at once."
"Naturally, Senator. I have time to wait. Our goal is worth a bit of back story." She moved her hand across the surface of the pool and spoke Irena's name softly. The low ceilings in the temple viewing room shimmered, reflecting the red glow of Darnvall as it appeared on the water's surface.
"Perhaps she has ambitions of her own." Senator Rawn moved to the edge of the pool, his eyes still on Dorion. "You cannot control her entirely, VC. I am not one to hold back my reservations."
Dorion peered into the image of Darnvall, moving the picture with her finger until it focused on Irena's still form in the cabin outside the stables. "I'm aware of your reservations, Senator, and I appreciate your concern..." she paused. "Perhaps concern is a bit premature. I appreciate your honesty. I will remind you, though, that many here in the temple have witnessed what is to come, and you and I both know that in order to avoid it, we need this to happen."
"Ah, the temple acolytes. Yes, yes, I shouldn't hold reservations against them. We in the Council have come to rely on their visions of the Web. Forgive me."
Dorion caught the hint of sarcasim in the Senator's voice, but let it go. She saw no need in arguing about the future, when it still was a mystery. If the Council wanted to doubt her and the temple, then she would gladly let them, as long as they continued to merely observe.
"Do you think that Rakar knows about us?"
"I don't think so." Dorion moved the picture of Irena a bit to the left and looked up at Rawn. "I severed the link Irena had before in order for him to recognize her, I don't think he will see the bigger picture until she explains it to him."
"And you believe she will?"
"Explain? Yes I do. SHe will have to once she realizes that he is projecting too. It will add another demension so to speak, to this story."
The Senator chuckled. "Your story, VC. This is your story. You are using Irena like a puppet. First sending her off on some ridiculous mission to resurect Myles, and then throwing her into the arms of some alien in order to bring about the birth of a savior."
"To avoid complete annihilation? Yes, Senator, I am doing all of those things. I find it hard to believe that the Council does not see the importance of this."
"Oh the Council sees it, but we still believe that our own plans will save us."
Dorion brought up her hand, placing it on her forehead. "Our sun is dying, Senator. We have to open a gateway through the Web for physical beings to travel. No one on this planet has that ability, not you, or me, or even the Commander himself. Only Irena's child can open the door."
"Yes, yes...the savior." Senator Rawn chuckled again. "Forgive me, VC, there is little life left in me to draw passion like you do. I'm impressed, however I must continue to hold my reservations. Thankfully though, you are not governed by my words."
"Thankfully," Dorion repeated. "You and the Council can collect as many mages and spirit socerers as you can to save our sun, but I still hold my acolyte's visions true. If we are to suvive this coming destruction, Irena must..."
Senator Rawn motioned to the water. "It looks like your puppet is waking up, VC. Let's us see how your story unfolds, shall we?"
Posted by Happy Potato @ 2:54 PM
5.29.2005
Duality
Rakar watched over the prostrate form of the Dynast through the daylight hours and on into the night. He had carried her away from the stables and into the small, closet-like room he had grown up in. It was a state of near-death, or perhaps undeath, animated and breathing, but...hollow.
He waited most of the evening, looking for any sign of the Projector's return - but was disappointed to find that She did not. She was good; managing to not only Project, but to maintain a re-animation spell and in fact, be able to cast at will... it was almost unheard of.
A wry grin split his face. Almost.
He was suitably impressed; and cursed himself for giving up his identity like a skittish virgin on her wedding night. His suspicions about the Dynast, the Lady of Fire, were confirmed. She was a possession; a not-quite-mindless body used by a being on another plane. But why? Why was a Projector of such obvious skill - though not enough to prevent his spontaneous severing - making such risks? To possess a woman of such importance in Darval...there must be a reason. What is so important here?
"First you must ask yourself why you are here, my son." A tired voice rasped and Rakar turned to see his father trembling in the doorway.
"Fa-" He began, and stopped, standing and moving to the older man, helping him into a nearby chair. "I didn't say anything."
"I've never known a man whose silence says more than his words ever could, Rakar."
With a look of indignation, which passed as quickly as it came, Rakar glanced back at the unconscious form of the Dynast and then pulled his chair toward the older man. They spoke together in hushed tones.
"How do you know what I am? I have carefully raised this being since his birth. There can be no suspicion!"
The older man nodded. "But the Gift that was my Son's Mother's blessing to him, does not run in her family alone. The Silvertide blood carries an Empathy with the world around us, the natural world. And you, my son - for even though his true spirit has been dwarfed and silenced by you, you are still my son in my heart - are unnatural."
A slight smile curled the corner of his lips, touching his eyes with tenderness for a moment. In the years he had spent living inside the body of this man's son - nearly from birth - he had come to respect and indeed, love the elder man. "I should have realized that you would know, Father, you are a perceptive man."
"Perhaps,"he coughed, covering his mouth to conceal the bloody spittle. "B-but, I believe it is time for you to consider why you are here. I do not understand your reasons; and part of me is bitterly angry that you chose my only son for your experiment, for once you abandon his body, what will remain of him? However..." The old man stopped, looking again at Irena, "Your goals here may be more similar to hers than you know."
Rakar nodded thoughtfully,"Yes, I believe you are right, Father. But how can I-"
"Ah!" He interrupted, raising one gnarled finger to point acrosst the small room. "She wakes."
Posted by Pheenie @ 4:11 AM
5.21.2005
Twists in the Fabric
Irena stood for a moment at the stable doorway, staring with steady eyes at the two men before her. Her mouth twisted into an obvious smile, but then she quickly let the expression die.
"A handsome new addition I see." She gestured to the recently birthed fole. "A true prize indeed in the times we exisit in, don't you agree?"
Rakar moved in front of Tchii and her new child, his face calm. "Greetings Lady. Forgive our state of affairs, we were not notified of your coming."
Irena waved her hand dismissingly. "It is not important, young Silvertide. I may come and go as I please, without notice. I find no reason to look upon your state of affairs disapprovingly." She paused, realizing something was wrong.
"Lady?" Rakar moved hesitantly toward Irena.
"Stay back," she hissed, then without warning, slumped into the door-frame and slid to the floor. The last she heard was Rakar calling out to her.
Her eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the light of the sun. The sound of falling water from somewhere nearby, caused her to shift uneasily.
"So you are finally awake, Irena?"
She turned and noticed a man in the process of urinating on the side of a stone wall. She tried to back away, realizing that her body was still asleep. "What are you..."
"Take it easy, Rabbit, I'm just answering the call of nature." The man shot her a sparkling smile. "It isn't as if you haven't seen it before."
"Jacob?"
The man finished his business, and turned to her, extending his hand. "Looks like you're coming back." She shook her head, and Jacob realized his error, quickly whipping his hands on his jerkins. "Err, sorry about that Rabbit."
Irena ran her hands through her hair, twisting it into a pony tail. She sighed, gathering her thoughts. "How long was I out this time?"
Jacob looked around, studying the landscape. "Long enough for me to scout the forest nearby and put together camp." He paused. "About five spans. Discover anything new?"
"It's still a bit hazy, give me a little while to piece it together." Irena stared down at her feet, willing them to awake. "I'm thirsty. Do you have..."
"Yeah, I found a fresh water stream to resupply our rations." He handed her a skin and she drank deeply. "You called out right before you woke up. The name Rakar. Is that..." He stopped, noticing her look of recognition.
Irena nodded. "Yes, he's the man that Teah sent me to gather."
Jacob squinted against the sun and shook his head. "Teah isn't the target, Rabbit. Why are you still trying to press her for secrets? She realizes who you are. I'm sure all the dead do by now."
"I don't think they do, Splinter," she called him by his nickname. "At least I don't think Teah or any of the others realize that I'm capable of reanimation and simentaneous possession."
Jacob laughed. "And don't forget the fact that you still are the best damn projector I've ever seen."
Irena smiled, extending her hand for support. Jacob reached down and assisted her to rise. "Rakar is key, I know this." She dusted off the leaves and soil on her pants. "I tried not to hint anything to Teah, but my focus is in far too many places when I'm there. I'm sure she sensed something." She lifted her hand before Jacob could reply. "I said something...not everything. I'm sure it will be fine. Teah posesses secrets of her own, so that makes us even."
"Don't even assume that much, Rabbit." Jacob walked a few paces, ushering her to follow. As they walked he continued. "You realize the importance of this mission. You can't allow anything to compromise it. Teah, or any of the other lagzombies are just waiting for any sentiant being to trip up. The magic only protects you to a degree. You are not invicible."
"You know I don't believe that I am, wise guy." She shoved him playfully. "I'm afraid Teah isn't the one we have to worry about though."
Jacob stopped. "What do you mean?"
There was a moment of tense silence. It gave Irena time to further collect herself, piece together what remained of her encounter. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully. "The connection severed in the wrong spot this time. I was in the stables. It was my first contact with Rakar and his father. Something must of interrupted the link. I lost conciousness," she paused, shrugging. "And I woke up back here."
Jacob looked like, for a moment, he might exploded into a rage. His nostrils flared, and his strong forehead rippled with emotion. Then, as quickly as the anger danced acrossed his face, it vanished. He sighed. "This isn't what you were trained to do."
Irena nodded. "I know. I know, Splinter. I have a strange feeling that Rakar did it."
"But this is your first contact. How in the world could you assess that without meeting him before?"
"I don't know. It's a hunch." She shook her head. "Don't give me you cock and bull story about hunches. I know what you think, but there is more to this mission that merely finding the right incantation spell to raise our leader. I think Dorion knew about this when she sent us to do this. Rakar looked at me as if he knew me," she studdered. "I mean, as if he knew more about me then what I wanted him to know."
"He's suspestable, Rabbit. You know that. The temple monitors have already established that his father is dying."
Irena cut in. "That's all we know. I can't be sure that is the reason my link was severed." She sighed. "You know, I don't want to discuss this right now. I need a hot meal and rest. We both realize that I'm going to have to jump back there as soon as I can. The way I left things, it's only a matter of time..." she trailed off. The sun indicated to her that it was high noon at least, so that meant that she still had the remainder of the day to rest. "I will try again tonight. With the passage of time different in their world, it shouldn't be more then a couple of spans."
Jacob nodded. "I know that it must be done. I'm a bit worried."
"You can contact Dorion if you want to. You will have to for most of this anyway. She might be able to send some more information through the web. I will pick it up once I've fully contained the situation."
"Do you still plan on taking Teah's advice?"
Irena shrugged again. "Right now Splinter, I really don't give a damn."
Posted by Happy Potato @ 4:37 PM
5.19.2005
Stirrings
"There there, Tchii," he patted the mare's neck affectionately. "You'll be done with it soon, and have a healthy new foal to nurse."
The man, some forty-winters old, began to cough; a heavy, body-wracking spasm that shook bones old before their time. The large brown mare with her gorgeous blond mane and tail, turned her head, nosing him curiously as if to say, stop that, your attention should be on me now. A few moments passed and he placed his palms upon her flanks, his condition agian undercontrol. The sensitive flesh ripped beneath his hands as her muscles contracted, preparing to expel her young. It was a moment he trusted to no other stablehand and at times like this, he sorely regretted that his only son had not shared his love for the great, graceful animals.
"A little longer, Tchii," he murmured, trying to reassure her, but the magic that warded the stables was stronger during this season than any other and it disturbed the horses. It was, however, necessary for the living dead and undead creatures that lurked, like a plague, across the land, were drawn as much to the newly living as to the newly dead. Another fit overtook him and he doubled over, hacking up a bloody mass of phlegm.
"Father!"
Rakar Silvertide called, scrambling under the large, foaling mare to reach his father's side. He patted his back, trying to soothe his pain futily much as his father had done for Tchii. When the coughing passed, he led the young-old man to a nearby bucket and overturned it for use as a seat.
"Rest here," he commanded gently, but his father provided to resistance and slumped back against the wall, his eyes bright with worry.
The young armorer cooed his reassurance to the horse, and she calmed again. The elder Silvertide male watched with a certain amount of awe as his son's gift with animals allowed him to quiet the panicking mare and assume position behind her with ease. In a matter of moment he had helped guide the newborn from the safety of the womb. The young one, with the same coloring as its mother save a long white streak down his nose, climbed to unsteady footing and began immedately nuzzling for drink. Tchii turned her head back, moving to nicker at her baby.
"Its her first, isn't it, Father?" Rakar asked, wiping bloody hands upon his clothes. "It never fails to amaze me, the instinct they are born with. To me it seems like knowledge..."
His father nodded weakly, and his voice was raspy. "They are born able to stand, and must be able to keep up with a herd almost from birth. It is the Gods way of assuring their survival. But it si nothing more than instinct. Wild creatures do what they must to survive."
Rakar nodded, appraising his father's condition as the man spoke. He was in his middle forties, but appeared much older for the illness had eaten the flesh from his bones and left him looking like a deflated bag. His handsome face was heavily creased with wrinkles and his head of curly black hair had gone gray, as if even the very color was too tired to hold its hue.
"Is it so different for any creature, or person?" He asked, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his father's forehead. It felt greasy to the touch and he realized that the man had probably not left the stable in days. The days of foaling were so busy for him. He would not allow anyone else to attend his precious mares during this time; and for a moment, Rakar was overcome with guilt for not following the footsteps of his male ancestors going back more generations than any could count.
His father gave an indifferent shrug, not up to the discussion he felt brewing. They sat in silence for sometime, the older man upon the bucket, and his son on the hay-covered ground of the stables.
Finally, the younger man broke the silence.
"I had that dream again, Father."
Old, tired eyes opened wide. "...was it the same?"
"No, not the very same. I saw more this time. And-" He paused, glancing around to assure their solitude. "I saw her."
"What?"
The young man nodded. "The Lady of Fire, she was there. She- I mean... She was the one who had-"
He gestured his son to silence, his eyes closing and his brow knit in concentration. Footsteps approached and passed and at length, he looked again at his son, and nodded giving him permission to continue.
"It was up to me, Father, I was the one who had to stop it."
There was a moment of silence between them, as both digested the weight of his dream. It was a gift of his mother's line, this 'long-sight', and Rakar was the first male in generations to bear it, as if the Gods had known Belana would bear no daughters, and in fact, no more children at all for she had died after birthing Rakar. The older man's shoulders slumped.
"What shall I do, father? When it comes time?"
His voice was quiet, tight with grief and anger and fear. "Do what you must, my son."
A knock sounded on the small wooden door that lead to the older man's offices and without waiting for acknowledgment, it creaked open.
A tall woman, swathed all in red, stood there.
"Ah," she said softly. "I thought I might find you here..."
Posted by Pheenie @ 7:22 AM
5.11.2005
Forgetful
Irena wasn't herself at these times. Reluctantly she had to admit that her objective was a far greater satisfaction, then a moment of uneasy communication with the dead Dynast. She just couldn't dismiss the feeling that her sudden interest in Teah would end up costing her far more then she was willing to forgive.
I insist on the man. The words now found a more sinister tone, dropping threateningly into Irena's ears. He will do nicely, I believe.
"And what will my seduction truly reward me with?"
I've promised the information that I know you desire. He is a viral figure, a ripe reward in himself. Freedom is what I seek, a small price to pay.
"Perhaps I have misgivings about him,"
The lagzombie shifted her focus, or what Irena believed was her focus, to the wall behind her, illuminated by the ruddy glow of torchlight. I have a copieous amount of time to insist on my recommendation, Fire Lady. You, however, do not.
Irena tucked her black hair behind her head, using the motion to distract the flash of irritation on her face. Teah was displaying unusal concentration for the living-dead. It was something that few of her kind, especially in her condition, managed to achieve. That fact in and of itself was distrubing, but furthermore, the complex articulation and eleborate objective, lead Irena to question her judgment. Did Teah posess an ability that The Lady of Fire wasn't aware of?
"The man is common-born, barely noticiable." Irena's voice showed little sign of convincing Teah of her momentary reluctance. "I'm surprised a body of a noble man or woman doesn't suit this situation more appropriately?"
I've promised....
Irena waved her hand, this time to distract herself from the lagzombie's eyes. She was slowly losing her footing. Not many of the living could manage a prolonged coversation with the dead. Her powers provided her an advantage, but unfortunately not a permenantcy. The signs of strain were already obvious on her robes and her forehead. She produced a pocket hankercheif from her garments, and dabbed her forehead. "I see no reason to trouble you any longer." In order to mantian the upper hand, Irena severed the magic that held the two Dynast's together, and turned quickly to leave.
Be swift Dynast, Lady of Fire. The hollow words cut into her head like much dry sharp fire stock. She spun. The magic was ended, it was impossible for Teah to communicate.
The hall stood empty, painted by shadows cast by the torches. Teah was gone.
Posted by Happy Potato @ 10:57 AM
5.10.2005
Speaking with the Dead
I greet you, Dynast. Irena spoke into the mind of the dead woman with a degree of respect. I require information that you must still hold.
The beast's gaze shifted and for a moment was locked with disturbing clarity upon Irena's own eyes. A grim, terrifying smile pulled upon the decaying flesh of the former leader's face and the Lady of Fire felt her reserves tremble for just a moment.
A raspy, dry, rattling sound escaped what remained of the lagzombie's lips. "Fr....e...e... meee....."
Irena lifted one elegantly manicured brow and crossed her arms before her chest, the billowing sleeves of her gown rustling against the reinforced bodice. You know what I seek, Dynast?
With a curt nod that nonetheless caused dead bones to creak with indignation, the undead woman's voice - strong and haughty as in life - touched Irena's mind. Yes. I will tell you all that you require, if you vow to free me from this cursed existance...
The Lady of Fire appraised the apparation for a long, silent moment. She seemed more coherant than she would have expected, more lucid. Perhaps she did not roam the Halls in the belief that she still ruled here, but instead sought release from the terrible 'unlife' she had been granted. Irena pursed her lips unconsciously, chewing on the inside of her lower lip in thought.
Banish me, please, and I will tell you everything. I beg you. There was a note of desperation in the sure voice that spoke into her mind and Irena's brow furrowed, wondering if she could turn this turn of events to her own benefit. All the knowledge of the former Dynast at her fingertips, locked inside a creature that she could control with the appropriately aligned runes.
I promise.
A flash of something akin to relief or even gratitude flashed through those undead eyes before they quickly resumed a dead, staring expression.
First, sucessor, you will need a fresh corpse. A strong, young cadaver...no more than a day or two dead. Less, if possible. That same terrifying grimace crossed the zombie's putrid lips, not quite a smile but the intent was the same. There is a young man who works in the Armory. Rakar Silvertide. He shall do quite admirably, I think. Lure him to you, however possible, but ward whatever room you take him to against the misfortune that befell me. Ward it doubly, for the forces are drawn to the scent of death and they will seek it with a single-minded focus that nothing living can match.
Irena took mental notes as the Dynast spoke, though she could see where this was going, she did not stop the woman from spinning her web of plans.
Yes, you will bait him with your body if need be. He is young and healthy. Then, when the runes are in place the wards are steeled against the cursed ones... The old dynast's living corpse let out a scraping chuckle, joints cracking from the unnatural exertion. You will kill him.
The Lady of Fire's eyes opened wide and she concentrated on the Communication spell as she formed her reply...
Posted by Pheenie @ 7:17 AM
5.09.2005
Irena
Darnvall: world of stone and darkness, lit by the fire of a molten sea, world of stalagmites and stalactites, world of fire dragons, world of poisionous air and sulfurous fumes, world of magic.
Darnvall: world of the dead.
Irena, Lady of the Fire, and now Lady of the Darnvall, sat back in her chair, and rubbed her eyes. The rune-constructs she was studying were starting to blur together. She'd almost made a mistake and that was inexcusable. But she caught herself in time, corrected it. Closing her eyes, she went over the construct again in her mind.
Begin with the heart-rune. Connect this sigil's stem to an ajoining rune base. Inscirbe the sigla on the breast, working upward to the head. Yes, that was where she'd gone wrong the first few times. The head was important...vital. Then draw the sigla on the truck, finally the arms, the legs.
It was perfect. She could find no flaw. In her mind's eye, she imagined the dead body on which she's been working rising up and living once again. A corrupt form of life, admittedly, but a beneficial one. The corspe was far more useful now than it would have been moldering in the ground.
Irena smiled in triumph, but it was a triumph whose life span was shorter then that of her imaginary defunct. Her thoughts went something like this:
I can raise the dead.
At least I am fairly certain I can raise the dead.
I can't be sure.
That was the pall over her elation. There were no dead for her to raise. Or rather, there were too many dead. Just not dead enough.
In bitter frustration, Irena slammed her hand down on the elaboraterly convieved rune-construct. The rune-bones went flying, skittering and sliding off the table onto the floor.
Irena paid no attention to them. She could always put the construct together again. Again and again. She knew it as well as she knew the rune-magic to conjure up water. For all the good it would do her.
Irena needed a corpse. One not more then three days dead. One that hadn't been siezed by these wretched lag-zombies (cast away misfortunes of dead-raising gone wrong). Irritably she swept the last few remaining rune-bones to the floor.
She left the room she used as her study, headed for her private chambers. On her way, she passed the library. And there was Teah, the Dynast, former ruler (until her death) of Darnvall's main city Barach. At her death, Teah had become a lag-zombie one of the misfortuned living dead. Now the Dynast's gruesome form, which was neither dead nor alive, wandered the halls and corridors of the palace that had once been hers. The lag-zombie thought it was still hers. Irena knew better, but saw no reason to diabuse Teah of the notion.
The Lady of Fire steeled herself to speak to the Dynast, realizing that she needed information to guide her studies, information that only the dead could provide. She took a deep breath. Irena had fought many terrible foes during her rise to power. She feared nothing. Nothing living, that is. The Lady of Fire couldn't help feeling a qualm deep in her bowels when she looked into the hideous, ever shifting death-mask face of the living dead. Irena saw hatred in those hollow eyes, the hatred that the dead bore the living of Darnvall. Drawing a sense of composure, she cast the simple spell of communication.......
Posted by Happy Potato @ 6:23 PM
4.29.2005
Welcome to the New Misadventures!
Yeah, so this it! The fourth incarnation of Tim & Josie's crazy story-written-in-a-round. He should be getting the first entry done soon. All the previous stories are currently lost somewhere in the mess that is my last attempt at Moveable Type (ack!). They're MIA for the moment. I'll get it working soon.
So hopefully you'll be seeing some great new writing right quick! Stop the drooling, you'll ruin the keyboard *wink*
Until then, see ya!
Posted by Pheenie @ 8:44 PM