The young sorcerer lay in his bed, unable to quiet his mind and sleep... the haunted mansion had been a risky endeavor, and for very little compensation.... and yet, it felt right to him. He had nearly died twice within, combating the undead creatures... exhausted his spells and his quiver of bolts and finally his body, until he was barely able to walk by the time they reached the gates of the city of Selgaunt.
It had been a long time since he had been so truly exhausted of all means, not since the ant mound attack, so long ago His clothing was torn and bloody and dirty, his body a mess of scratches, holes, bruises and pain... and yet he could not rest his mind.
What did you hope to find here? he asked himself as he stared at the cieling, the bat that was his familiar perched quietly beside his door, saddened too because of the joining they shared, Purpose? Meaning? Death? This place holds nothing for you but old memories... a life you gave up for another that you gave up, and now you have nothing. You had friends, a family, faith, a home... and you gave them up for love. Then you had love, and you gave that up too, for your sanity and your soul. And now you have nothing, and nothing to give up.
While the nightmares occured less often, the images had not faded for him: The creatures he had shared a place to sleep with, whom he had helped; the woman he had loved, the guards and the merchant, the young girl as she pleaded, and the eyes.... terrifying eyes which remained in his sight even after he awoke, taunting him, laughing at his weakness, his suffering.
Ever since he had returned to the city he once called his only home, Selgaunt, he had seen the gazes from those with deep insight; the songstresses, the Lady in White.... the deep sadness, the pity they cast upon him, for they had glimpsed the terrible anguish that lie upon his heart, the loss of his sense of purpose and goodness and faith, very nearly his will to survive. The young man who had lost everything but his faith before he arrived in Selgaunt the first time, had returned with not even his faith intact... the unspeakable acts he had done and aided in tore at his mind; the betrayal of his goddess tore at his soul; the betrayal of his friends, his sister, and of his father and mother, and of his family roots tore at his heart. He asked himself often, Will the pain ever be gone? And he knew the answer was no, though he wished it were yes.
Finally, after hours, when his exhausted body no longer permitted his mind to wander, he slept, the last thought upon his mind....
"Who have I become? Who is Fallain, son of Grimmir?"
Restless and Faithless
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NESchampion
- Staff Head - Documentation
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- Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2006 12:46 am
Restless and Faithless
Current PC: Olaf - The Silver Marches
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NESchampion
- Staff Head - Documentation
- Posts: 884
- Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2006 12:46 am
As the group of various adventurers, warriors, priests, scouts and even a fellow mage or two walked beside him, the young sorcerer thought back to previous encounters of such scale. He remembered defending the Stag from the ants crawling over the wall... the ogres that they'd found on the way to the beach... other battles, large and small, with friends and allies still alive and some long gone. He had returned to the city through this very path a few weeks ago, and now it promised to be a bloodbath.
The group continued ahead to the gates of the small town, both the gates and the town had been set ablaze by the foul creatures. During the brief preperation before entering the town to reclaim it, he checked the notes he had written and sealed were safely kept in his pack, which they were. One to his sister, one to his longtime war ally, and one to his previous station in a town not so unlike the one they were about to venture into battle within.
Will you die today, Fallain? Is this the last place you'll ever see?
The young sorcerer brushed away all other thoughts as they entered the city, his mind focused upon the Weave and the task at hand. The next several hours passed quickly with bloodshed; bolts and arrows flying to strike the goblinkin and other, larger beasts; axes and swords cleaving the flesh and bone from the groups foes deftly, and the blaze of magic about him. As the battle progressed and he pulled upon the strings of the Weave and they resonated as he practiced and learned and knew they would, the young sorcerer did what he knew he was still good at, the one thing he knew for fact he was still very capable of.
He wrought destruction, ruin, and agony upon his foes; for a small group of goblins early on that had tried to flank them, the last thing they ever saw was a massive sphere of lightning, as though a thunderstorm had exploded amongst them. All around, he could see the charred flesh and shattered bodies of goblins and ogres his magic had helped kill; the smell of the battlefield might have bothered him more, but he had prepared for it by covering his mouth and nose with cloth.
Is this what you seek, Fallain? Do you enjoy slaughtering the goblins as the goblins enjoyed slaughtering the townsfolk here?
Once they had cleared the town and finally the keep itself, all to the basement, the young sorcerer came upon a sight he had not expected... yet another thing forgotten.
The ghost of the gnome woman he had promised to aid, to protect... he had failed her, and the ghost knew it.... as he looked into the eyes of the ghost, and the ghost pointed at him and gazed at him with those sad, pain filled eyes, he knew...
You failed her.... just like you failed your parents.... just like you failed Meru... just like you failed so many others. You couldn't protect any of them, you were weak, selfish, a fool's fool and you cannot find redemption in the slaying of goblins.
As he stood in the dank basement, his mind flashed to the girl again.... watching as she ran, watching as she was carried away, helpless because he had chosen not to aid her, had chosen to aid instead in her death. He stood there in that dark torture room, explaining about the ghost, answering the questions of others, but never taking his eyes off the ghost.
As he looked into the ghosts eyes, he knew that the sadness he saw there was his own, the disgust at his betrayal, the pity at his weakness, and the sorrow at his existance.
As he turned away and headed back outside, the young sorcerer took solace in one thing... the only thing he had left to take solace in... for it had always been with him in all of his travels, and always calmed his mind and heart, if only briefly.
Cling to the Weave Fallain, for you know it's all you have left. If your friends knew what you've done, they'd hate you, and worse, pity you. Cling to the Weave as a drunkard clings to his last bottle of ale, and pray that the gods hear you, and see something within you that you do not, that can redeem your failures. Every drunkard eventually consumes that last bottle.
The group continued ahead to the gates of the small town, both the gates and the town had been set ablaze by the foul creatures. During the brief preperation before entering the town to reclaim it, he checked the notes he had written and sealed were safely kept in his pack, which they were. One to his sister, one to his longtime war ally, and one to his previous station in a town not so unlike the one they were about to venture into battle within.
Will you die today, Fallain? Is this the last place you'll ever see?
The young sorcerer brushed away all other thoughts as they entered the city, his mind focused upon the Weave and the task at hand. The next several hours passed quickly with bloodshed; bolts and arrows flying to strike the goblinkin and other, larger beasts; axes and swords cleaving the flesh and bone from the groups foes deftly, and the blaze of magic about him. As the battle progressed and he pulled upon the strings of the Weave and they resonated as he practiced and learned and knew they would, the young sorcerer did what he knew he was still good at, the one thing he knew for fact he was still very capable of.
He wrought destruction, ruin, and agony upon his foes; for a small group of goblins early on that had tried to flank them, the last thing they ever saw was a massive sphere of lightning, as though a thunderstorm had exploded amongst them. All around, he could see the charred flesh and shattered bodies of goblins and ogres his magic had helped kill; the smell of the battlefield might have bothered him more, but he had prepared for it by covering his mouth and nose with cloth.
Is this what you seek, Fallain? Do you enjoy slaughtering the goblins as the goblins enjoyed slaughtering the townsfolk here?
Once they had cleared the town and finally the keep itself, all to the basement, the young sorcerer came upon a sight he had not expected... yet another thing forgotten.
The ghost of the gnome woman he had promised to aid, to protect... he had failed her, and the ghost knew it.... as he looked into the eyes of the ghost, and the ghost pointed at him and gazed at him with those sad, pain filled eyes, he knew...
You failed her.... just like you failed your parents.... just like you failed Meru... just like you failed so many others. You couldn't protect any of them, you were weak, selfish, a fool's fool and you cannot find redemption in the slaying of goblins.
As he stood in the dank basement, his mind flashed to the girl again.... watching as she ran, watching as she was carried away, helpless because he had chosen not to aid her, had chosen to aid instead in her death. He stood there in that dark torture room, explaining about the ghost, answering the questions of others, but never taking his eyes off the ghost.
As he looked into the ghosts eyes, he knew that the sadness he saw there was his own, the disgust at his betrayal, the pity at his weakness, and the sorrow at his existance.
As he turned away and headed back outside, the young sorcerer took solace in one thing... the only thing he had left to take solace in... for it had always been with him in all of his travels, and always calmed his mind and heart, if only briefly.
Cling to the Weave Fallain, for you know it's all you have left. If your friends knew what you've done, they'd hate you, and worse, pity you. Cling to the Weave as a drunkard clings to his last bottle of ale, and pray that the gods hear you, and see something within you that you do not, that can redeem your failures. Every drunkard eventually consumes that last bottle.
Current PC: Olaf - The Silver Marches
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NESchampion
- Staff Head - Documentation
- Posts: 884
- Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2006 12:46 am
The House of Song, quiet... it was not something the young sorcerer was accustomed to; however, the divine magic they the Songstress had used had tired her out, and the other had been sleeping already. Fallain knew he wasn't going anywhere, offered to stay there while they slept; more for his sake than for theirs.
Doubts swirled in his mind and in his heart as he sat beside the now sleeping form of his sister. Hours ago she had been dead; ill luck had befallen her time and again of late. The Songstress assured him that she would awake in a day or two, and that he ought rest, clean himself up.... but he couldn't. The dried blood on his face, his clothing... the sharp pain in his side now slowly dulling... it didn't matter to him.
All at once as he studied her he felt relief and despair; relief that she was alive, and despair that he had failed to protect her. For all his prowess in the Weave, his years of adventuring and combat, he couldn't protect her; the creature they had met had dwarfed his own abilities, and killed or wounded half of their group.
He had been planning on leaving... heading for someplace he'd never been to search for something he couldn't find. He knew that he didn't know who he was anymore, what he should be doing... but he also knew that his sister would need him now as much as ever.
Quietly as he sat beside her sleeping form on the stage, the young sorcerer began to sing, his voice soft but steady, holding none of the uncertainty that he had felt for months upon months now.
--
Rest now dear sister, the task is done, and you are still with me;
Rest now dear sister, for you are safe, my only family.
I've known you for only a few short years,
And we've shared laughs, smiles and tears;
Walked long winding roads to far away places,
Enjoyed good times among friendly faces;
We saw brutal battles, defending the meek,
Supported one another when we were weak;
But the times I'll always remember we had,
Are the times when you made me feel so glad;
There's still much to see, still much to do,
The great, final revel isn't ready for you;
Rest now dear sister, you are still with me,
Rest now dear sister, my only family.
--
As his voice trailed off, the young sorcerer experienced a feeling he hadn't had in a long time... he'd forgotten what it was like...
Peace
Doubts swirled in his mind and in his heart as he sat beside the now sleeping form of his sister. Hours ago she had been dead; ill luck had befallen her time and again of late. The Songstress assured him that she would awake in a day or two, and that he ought rest, clean himself up.... but he couldn't. The dried blood on his face, his clothing... the sharp pain in his side now slowly dulling... it didn't matter to him.
All at once as he studied her he felt relief and despair; relief that she was alive, and despair that he had failed to protect her. For all his prowess in the Weave, his years of adventuring and combat, he couldn't protect her; the creature they had met had dwarfed his own abilities, and killed or wounded half of their group.
He had been planning on leaving... heading for someplace he'd never been to search for something he couldn't find. He knew that he didn't know who he was anymore, what he should be doing... but he also knew that his sister would need him now as much as ever.
Quietly as he sat beside her sleeping form on the stage, the young sorcerer began to sing, his voice soft but steady, holding none of the uncertainty that he had felt for months upon months now.
--
Rest now dear sister, the task is done, and you are still with me;
Rest now dear sister, for you are safe, my only family.
I've known you for only a few short years,
And we've shared laughs, smiles and tears;
Walked long winding roads to far away places,
Enjoyed good times among friendly faces;
We saw brutal battles, defending the meek,
Supported one another when we were weak;
But the times I'll always remember we had,
Are the times when you made me feel so glad;
There's still much to see, still much to do,
The great, final revel isn't ready for you;
Rest now dear sister, you are still with me,
Rest now dear sister, my only family.
--
As his voice trailed off, the young sorcerer experienced a feeling he hadn't had in a long time... he'd forgotten what it was like...
Peace
Current PC: Olaf - The Silver Marches
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NESchampion
- Staff Head - Documentation
- Posts: 884
- Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2006 12:46 am
As the young sorcerer entered the tent, he saw his long time ally locked in combat with a trio of goblins. Quickly he pulled upon the Weave, slaying one and wounding another.... and then there was but one. One goblin stood against the dwarf and the young sorcerer, but he knew as soon as he looked at the creature that this would be a battle hard fought.
As the dwarf swung with his flaming axe at the distorted vision of the goblin, Fallain quickly guised himself invisibly, and readied his morningstar. Murmuring and gesturing quickly, he touched the spiked end, setting it ablaze. When he looked up, it was to witness the dwarf falling backwards to the ground from a spell; a spell which he too felt rip at his life, rend at him with dark energy.
Quickly he called forth his most powerful spell, and the world about him slowed down. He drew his shield and lunged forward at the goblin, swinging his morningstar at the distorted image of the goblin rapidly... but even with the intense speed, he couldn't strike the creature truely.
It was then that the young sorcerer felt the spells, and he knew it was over. He felt the abjurations that the goblin summoned, rip his protections and transmutations from around him... felt the Weave that had always been his blade and his armor ripped away from him. As he attempted to guise himself invisibly again to redouble his efforts, the blast of magic hit him full on, disrupting him, and then he felt himself falling backwards, landing on the dirty floor of the tent...
Slowly he reached for the silver amulet around his neck, the gift from his sister, but he could not see anymore, and his hands were so slow, so heavy. Images raced in his mind, the last efforts of his soul to try and spur him to action, for his father's sake, for his sister's sake, for the sake of the one he had loved... but he was so tired now, like he had never felt before.
Fallain, son of Grimmir, son of Roltar, son of Urowin wrapped his hand around the silver amulet about his neck, and was gone from this world.
-- ----------------
((Gotta say thanks to everyone I interacted with as Fallain on the many servers I visited, especially Xeera, Violet, Jacob, Meru, Bannock, Nicha, JenWa, Banu, Jacobim, Dorzin, Vastiani, "Sarge" Malcer, Azuma, Verra, Khallindra, and all the others who kept things really alive. A big thanks to all the DMs on all the servers I visited, without you ALFA wouldn't be ALFA; see you guys in my next iteration.
~NES_Champion))
As the dwarf swung with his flaming axe at the distorted vision of the goblin, Fallain quickly guised himself invisibly, and readied his morningstar. Murmuring and gesturing quickly, he touched the spiked end, setting it ablaze. When he looked up, it was to witness the dwarf falling backwards to the ground from a spell; a spell which he too felt rip at his life, rend at him with dark energy.
Quickly he called forth his most powerful spell, and the world about him slowed down. He drew his shield and lunged forward at the goblin, swinging his morningstar at the distorted image of the goblin rapidly... but even with the intense speed, he couldn't strike the creature truely.
It was then that the young sorcerer felt the spells, and he knew it was over. He felt the abjurations that the goblin summoned, rip his protections and transmutations from around him... felt the Weave that had always been his blade and his armor ripped away from him. As he attempted to guise himself invisibly again to redouble his efforts, the blast of magic hit him full on, disrupting him, and then he felt himself falling backwards, landing on the dirty floor of the tent...
Slowly he reached for the silver amulet around his neck, the gift from his sister, but he could not see anymore, and his hands were so slow, so heavy. Images raced in his mind, the last efforts of his soul to try and spur him to action, for his father's sake, for his sister's sake, for the sake of the one he had loved... but he was so tired now, like he had never felt before.
Fallain, son of Grimmir, son of Roltar, son of Urowin wrapped his hand around the silver amulet about his neck, and was gone from this world.
-- ----------------
((Gotta say thanks to everyone I interacted with as Fallain on the many servers I visited, especially Xeera, Violet, Jacob, Meru, Bannock, Nicha, JenWa, Banu, Jacobim, Dorzin, Vastiani, "Sarge" Malcer, Azuma, Verra, Khallindra, and all the others who kept things really alive. A big thanks to all the DMs on all the servers I visited, without you ALFA wouldn't be ALFA; see you guys in my next iteration.
~NES_Champion))
Current PC: Olaf - The Silver Marches
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Brimsar the Wanderer
- Frost Giant
- Posts: 757
- Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2005 10:56 pm
- Location: GMT -5
Farewell.
A good read.
It was a pleasure to know Fallain as both a player and DM. Hope to meet your next toon soon.
It was a pleasure to know Fallain as both a player and DM. Hope to meet your next toon soon.
Late,
Brim
Brim
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Brokenbone
- Chosen of Forumamus, God of Forums
- Posts: 5771
- Joined: Mon May 16, 2005 1:07 am
- Location: London, Ontario, Canada
Having formerly had a Shadowdale based warrior PC, I am sure I know exactly whose floor you dirtied. Ouch.
Look forward to your next PC, Fallain was a good sparring partner!
Look forward to your next PC, Fallain was a good sparring partner!
ALFA NWN2 PCs: Rhaggot of the Bruised-Eye, and Bamshogbo
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
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Arkan Bladesinger
- Frost Giant
- Posts: 715
- Joined: Sun Jul 17, 2005 6:14 am
- Location: The Land of the Thousand Lakes GMT+2
I wish I'd had more than one session with your mage. Kipper and Sarragh were feeling pretty useless as we watched your bars drop :(
PC: Bot (WD)
Code: Select all
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/ \ / \ / \ / \
/ RIP \ / RIP \ / RIP \ / RIP \ /
| | | | | | | | |
*| * * |* *| * * |* *| * * |* *| * * |* *|
_)/\\_//(/|_)(__)/\\_//(/|_)(__)/\\_//(/|_)(__)/\\_//(/|_)(__)/\\_(Was oodles of fun Nes ^^ Fallain was there through the large majority of my toons' (admittedly short) times, and it's a bit odd to think that he won't be there to cast spells for the team.
On the other hand, I can't wait to meet your next toon
On the other hand, I can't wait to meet your next toon
>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<
ALFA Live PC: Kresk Randal (Pastoral of Chauntea 1)
Server: Sembia
ALFA Live PC: Kresk Randal (Pastoral of Chauntea 1)
Server: Sembia
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Nyarlathotep
- Owlbear
- Posts: 551
- Joined: Sat Jan 03, 2004 3:24 pm
- Location: The Hollow
- Contact:
A shame, Fallain was interesting and Caleb even kinda liked him, he gave him back his knife after the incident in the witch's cottage 
Lurker at the Threshold
Huntin' humans ain't nothin' but nothin'. They all run like scared little rabbits. Run, rabbit, run. Run, rabbit. Run, rabbit. Run rabbit. Run, rabbit, run! RUN, RABBIT, RUN! ~
Otis Driftwood, House of a Thousand Corpses
Huntin' humans ain't nothin' but nothin'. They all run like scared little rabbits. Run, rabbit, run. Run, rabbit. Run, rabbit. Run rabbit. Run, rabbit, run! RUN, RABBIT, RUN! ~
Otis Driftwood, House of a Thousand Corpses
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NESchampion
- Staff Head - Documentation
- Posts: 884
- Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2006 12:46 am
Conspiracy! Witches and goblins unite!