Hold the line!
It's like the mumpin legions.
Coming to Terms
His eyes darted open, as the cold metal of the blade touched his throat. He tensed a moment, hand instinctively going for the wooden hilted dagger at his belt, but the metal was pressed firmly to his throat, releasing a small flow of scarlet. He relaxed slowly, as the knife was taken away from his throat, and Aeron came into view.
Immediatetly, his mouth opened to say the word....but he knew he'd be even more sorry, had he uttered it. He kept the word to himself. Aeron frowned, looking down at him, leaning against the trunk of a tree, camoflauged in leaves, twigs, and other assorted plant material. Christophen looked to him a moment, tears filling his eyes. Aeron slowly smiled, reaching a hand down to the fourteen year old Christophen.
Christophen smiled meekly, the water in his eyes fading away. He took the hand, as the leafy Aeron pulled him up from his resting place. They walked, Christophen stepping in Aeron's prints, as his father Dulan had taught him.
As they walked, Aeron quietly pointed to the spots where Christophen had failed to cover his tracks...an overturned, wet leaf here...a broken twig of a dead tree there...Christophen watched...and learned. Aeron and he had done this many times....and each time Aeron was taking longer and longer to find him. So long, this time, that after the third day of waiting, he fell asleep. The practice was two fold....to cover his tracks...and to remain awake for as long as it took Aeron to find him. If seven suns passed over, and Aeron did not find him, then they would move on to another practice....but would come back to this one once in a while to hone the skill.
Aeron always introduced the next exercise he was to learn in the current one he was learning....he would be learning how to camoflauge correctly next. His thoughts drifted to his father for a moment....if it weren't for the bear..his father would be teaching him. He was lucky that his father and Aeron had been close friends.
Christophen kept his eyes wide open as he followed Aeron home....snow would come soon, and the practices would begin anew....each season having it's own ways. He looked ahead into the failing light, toward the small smoke rings above the trees that signaled home....Red Waters. He almost thought he saw his father, but dismissed it as a wish.
He would be glad to get a warm meal in his belly, and a warm bed to sleep in, if just for the night.
Immediatetly, his mouth opened to say the word....but he knew he'd be even more sorry, had he uttered it. He kept the word to himself. Aeron frowned, looking down at him, leaning against the trunk of a tree, camoflauged in leaves, twigs, and other assorted plant material. Christophen looked to him a moment, tears filling his eyes. Aeron slowly smiled, reaching a hand down to the fourteen year old Christophen.
Christophen smiled meekly, the water in his eyes fading away. He took the hand, as the leafy Aeron pulled him up from his resting place. They walked, Christophen stepping in Aeron's prints, as his father Dulan had taught him.
As they walked, Aeron quietly pointed to the spots where Christophen had failed to cover his tracks...an overturned, wet leaf here...a broken twig of a dead tree there...Christophen watched...and learned. Aeron and he had done this many times....and each time Aeron was taking longer and longer to find him. So long, this time, that after the third day of waiting, he fell asleep. The practice was two fold....to cover his tracks...and to remain awake for as long as it took Aeron to find him. If seven suns passed over, and Aeron did not find him, then they would move on to another practice....but would come back to this one once in a while to hone the skill.
Aeron always introduced the next exercise he was to learn in the current one he was learning....he would be learning how to camoflauge correctly next. His thoughts drifted to his father for a moment....if it weren't for the bear..his father would be teaching him. He was lucky that his father and Aeron had been close friends.
Christophen kept his eyes wide open as he followed Aeron home....snow would come soon, and the practices would begin anew....each season having it's own ways. He looked ahead into the failing light, toward the small smoke rings above the trees that signaled home....Red Waters. He almost thought he saw his father, but dismissed it as a wish.
He would be glad to get a warm meal in his belly, and a warm bed to sleep in, if just for the night.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
First Kill
His body was tensed, every muscle tightened to the point of burning. He waited...listened to the soft wind blowing the dead leaves of Autumn. The sky slowly melted into many hues...soon they would pass.
At sixteen, Aeron had given him his first pair of blades....passed from his father, to Aeron, to him. He gripped them tightly as he maintained his balance upon the branches of the pine. The needles itched, poking at his skin like tiny needles. He breathed evenly and deeply. His eyes slowly swiveled to his right, his head remaining stationary. He caught sight of Burgen, the heavyset bearded blacksmith, behind a rock. He was staring at the colors of the sunset, his great maul leening against the rock. It was Burgen who had made the blades of his father, many years before.
A bird took flight...his eyes swiveled to the narrow pass. Two silouettes came around the bend...exactly where they were supposed to be. Both dressed in heavy maile, one carrying a sword, the other an axe. As they cautiously approached, the figures became more defined...as did their equipment. The tusks protruding from their mouths marked them as middling in their years....experienced. The equipment, however, was shoddy...the maile showing signs of rust...the blades chipped and knicked.
Burgen slowly crouched, as the two passed their position. Christophen held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, before other siloettes appeared. His mind raced...no alarm had been given by their scouts. The group of orcs became more defined....fourteen in the body. As expected. He slowly let his eyes relax, his breath evened and slowed.
"To focus too much, is to loose control." Aeron had drilled the saying into his head...to take full stock of any situation, meant veiwing the situation as a whole. His eyes dulled, as he stared at nothing. The main body moved forward.....
Smell of Pine.....Burgen rubbing the haft of his maul....snorts and mumblings from the orcs...the smell of blood....movement where their should be no.....
His eyes quickly focused onto the pair of orcs. Away from the main body, on the flank....his mind raced....possibly..no probably two more on the right flank. He gritted his teeth...he did not like surprises...yet this had gone unnoticed. They had not been seen previously...only the two scouts and the main body when they had surveyed the group days before.
He slowly reached for the bow he had hung in front of him, moving as a snail on ice. He slowly notched an arrow.....and aimed at one of the flankers. He unfocused his eyes, breathed evenly....
And the fury broke loose, as Eacem and Belara quickly slashed from their hiding places....bringing two orcs down. A cry of surprise slowly rose from the group, the burdened orcs dropping what they were carrying to bring weapons to bare. Smell of blood....Thwang of string....Arrow entering the shoulder of one of the flankers. He quickly notched another arrow, as Burgen howled in glee, his maul flashing into the air....Aeron slipping his short sword into an eye.......Thal Shadi gripping a leg in his not full grown maw. Thwang....chest shot....orc falling...reach for another.....
"FLANKAS!" He shouted above the din. Immediate wheeling by Gratlan, long sword in hand, facing the right flank.....cries of wounded.....Belara chanting.....burst of energy as the magicks infused his being....Thwang...
Throat shot....orc falling.....
Head turns, focus on everything..focus on nothing.... Aeron hit with a bolt....six orcs from the main body still standing..circle formation....Gratlan charging the two flankers on the right....THWANG! Gratlan charging the one flanker on the right.....
Thal Shadi ripping out the throat of a wounded orc.....no clear shot....movement behind.....Head swivels....the two orc scouts coming back to join the fray. Burgen hit with a spear.....
Hang the bow onto the limb, unsheathe the blades.......
Orcs running passing below.....
Jump, teeth gritted, blades facing down....
Impact....teeth rattle, wind knocked out of him....blades stuck.....
Vision clears...battle over......
He slowly wrenched the blades free of the orc. The only sound, for a long moment, was Thal Shadi's growling....bones crunching under his fangs...
He slowly sat on his heels, eyeing the carnage. Belara healing Gratlan and Aeron.....
The smell of blood was profuse....his breath quickened, his heart raced. His kills....his first. He stared into the eyes of the orc that lay a foot away, his mind reeling at the horror that had just taken place...wandering if he could do this again....
Then his eyes focused on the bodies the burdened orcs had been carrying....and he knew he could....that he would.
He slowly cleaned his blades in the leaves, sheathed them, and moved toward the group, as they slowly gathered around the bodies.
At sixteen, Aeron had given him his first pair of blades....passed from his father, to Aeron, to him. He gripped them tightly as he maintained his balance upon the branches of the pine. The needles itched, poking at his skin like tiny needles. He breathed evenly and deeply. His eyes slowly swiveled to his right, his head remaining stationary. He caught sight of Burgen, the heavyset bearded blacksmith, behind a rock. He was staring at the colors of the sunset, his great maul leening against the rock. It was Burgen who had made the blades of his father, many years before.
A bird took flight...his eyes swiveled to the narrow pass. Two silouettes came around the bend...exactly where they were supposed to be. Both dressed in heavy maile, one carrying a sword, the other an axe. As they cautiously approached, the figures became more defined...as did their equipment. The tusks protruding from their mouths marked them as middling in their years....experienced. The equipment, however, was shoddy...the maile showing signs of rust...the blades chipped and knicked.
Burgen slowly crouched, as the two passed their position. Christophen held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, before other siloettes appeared. His mind raced...no alarm had been given by their scouts. The group of orcs became more defined....fourteen in the body. As expected. He slowly let his eyes relax, his breath evened and slowed.
"To focus too much, is to loose control." Aeron had drilled the saying into his head...to take full stock of any situation, meant veiwing the situation as a whole. His eyes dulled, as he stared at nothing. The main body moved forward.....
Smell of Pine.....Burgen rubbing the haft of his maul....snorts and mumblings from the orcs...the smell of blood....movement where their should be no.....
His eyes quickly focused onto the pair of orcs. Away from the main body, on the flank....his mind raced....possibly..no probably two more on the right flank. He gritted his teeth...he did not like surprises...yet this had gone unnoticed. They had not been seen previously...only the two scouts and the main body when they had surveyed the group days before.
He slowly reached for the bow he had hung in front of him, moving as a snail on ice. He slowly notched an arrow.....and aimed at one of the flankers. He unfocused his eyes, breathed evenly....
And the fury broke loose, as Eacem and Belara quickly slashed from their hiding places....bringing two orcs down. A cry of surprise slowly rose from the group, the burdened orcs dropping what they were carrying to bring weapons to bare. Smell of blood....Thwang of string....Arrow entering the shoulder of one of the flankers. He quickly notched another arrow, as Burgen howled in glee, his maul flashing into the air....Aeron slipping his short sword into an eye.......Thal Shadi gripping a leg in his not full grown maw. Thwang....chest shot....orc falling...reach for another.....
"FLANKAS!" He shouted above the din. Immediate wheeling by Gratlan, long sword in hand, facing the right flank.....cries of wounded.....Belara chanting.....burst of energy as the magicks infused his being....Thwang...
Throat shot....orc falling.....
Head turns, focus on everything..focus on nothing.... Aeron hit with a bolt....six orcs from the main body still standing..circle formation....Gratlan charging the two flankers on the right....THWANG! Gratlan charging the one flanker on the right.....
Thal Shadi ripping out the throat of a wounded orc.....no clear shot....movement behind.....Head swivels....the two orc scouts coming back to join the fray. Burgen hit with a spear.....
Hang the bow onto the limb, unsheathe the blades.......
Orcs running passing below.....
Jump, teeth gritted, blades facing down....
Impact....teeth rattle, wind knocked out of him....blades stuck.....
Vision clears...battle over......
He slowly wrenched the blades free of the orc. The only sound, for a long moment, was Thal Shadi's growling....bones crunching under his fangs...
He slowly sat on his heels, eyeing the carnage. Belara healing Gratlan and Aeron.....
The smell of blood was profuse....his breath quickened, his heart raced. His kills....his first. He stared into the eyes of the orc that lay a foot away, his mind reeling at the horror that had just taken place...wandering if he could do this again....
Then his eyes focused on the bodies the burdened orcs had been carrying....and he knew he could....that he would.
He slowly cleaned his blades in the leaves, sheathed them, and moved toward the group, as they slowly gathered around the bodies.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
The beauty before him...was extraordinary. The willow bent her arms, covering him, hugging him, keeping him safe as his own mother. His hands slowly brushed through the tall grass, as the lights of the pond flickered and danced before him... a herd of deer grazed nearby, paying him little mind, as did the otter winding its way through the clear, cool water. But the memory remains....
A place of death once....cursed, unwelcoming...sapping his strength.... Red waters....
A wonderous transformation. Yet his lone eye stared across this beauty...turned inward..lost in thought....
His hand, covered in the womans life blood, as he withdrew the sharpened bone from her throat...her eyes pleading. The Three Eyed One quickly knocking the bone from his hand.... Warm....sticky....Madness.
The howls of anguish....of pain...of fear...still filled his ears. The Great Eye was right..in a way...one never truely left the place....it was always there, in the back of his mind....
The rats....feeding on her green toes, many days after.....the man, long dead, still chained to the ground....the dead....mad look of the guards....
The undead.....
His lone eye stared across this beauty of water, and found no solace... In the depths of remembrance, his hand slowly found it's way to the hilt of the blade that had been loaned by Akbar....and solace slowly crept in. Much was gone....much was taken....but the time was near. So near now...they would repay. Tenfold. He stands slowly now, his knees aching..his lone eye slowly turning to the dark....
A wonderous transformation, indeed.
A place of death once....cursed, unwelcoming...sapping his strength.... Red waters....
A wonderous transformation. Yet his lone eye stared across this beauty...turned inward..lost in thought....
His hand, covered in the womans life blood, as he withdrew the sharpened bone from her throat...her eyes pleading. The Three Eyed One quickly knocking the bone from his hand.... Warm....sticky....Madness.
The howls of anguish....of pain...of fear...still filled his ears. The Great Eye was right..in a way...one never truely left the place....it was always there, in the back of his mind....
The rats....feeding on her green toes, many days after.....the man, long dead, still chained to the ground....the dead....mad look of the guards....
The undead.....
His lone eye stared across this beauty of water, and found no solace... In the depths of remembrance, his hand slowly found it's way to the hilt of the blade that had been loaned by Akbar....and solace slowly crept in. Much was gone....much was taken....but the time was near. So near now...they would repay. Tenfold. He stands slowly now, his knees aching..his lone eye slowly turning to the dark....
A wonderous transformation, indeed.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
His mind slowly formed around the event....
His life blood pooling around his body, as the Worg stood ready to eat its breakfast....
The pulsating energy that coarsed through him hours later...the ground where the Worg had stood burnt asunder...
Crawling home, once again, to his love....she was not happy...
A picture...which saw into the depths of his heart...the only reason in his life he was happy at all. Her smile.
They were leaving...Akbar...then Laurelin...
He felt darkness slowly closing in. All was not lost...
He stares at his hands now. Stared as Holden was brought unconcious to the ground...fools playing games.
He tried to bend his mind around what he could do...and gave thanks. There would be need of much mending before it was all said and done.
He stares at the sun, slowly setting now, and once more the night steps forward, holding out her hand. He would deny her, as was his way, and instead choose to be in doors, away from her gloom and secrets. Nighttime always brought with her trouble.
He eyes the axe leaning against the fireplace, then the dwindling woodpile. Tomorrow...for now, there is enough.
His mind reflects on the maze of the labrinth that he runs, trying to find a way free.....
His only fear...that this labrinth has no exits.
His life blood pooling around his body, as the Worg stood ready to eat its breakfast....
The pulsating energy that coarsed through him hours later...the ground where the Worg had stood burnt asunder...
Crawling home, once again, to his love....she was not happy...
A picture...which saw into the depths of his heart...the only reason in his life he was happy at all. Her smile.
They were leaving...Akbar...then Laurelin...
He felt darkness slowly closing in. All was not lost...
He stares at his hands now. Stared as Holden was brought unconcious to the ground...fools playing games.
He tried to bend his mind around what he could do...and gave thanks. There would be need of much mending before it was all said and done.
He stares at the sun, slowly setting now, and once more the night steps forward, holding out her hand. He would deny her, as was his way, and instead choose to be in doors, away from her gloom and secrets. Nighttime always brought with her trouble.
He eyes the axe leaning against the fireplace, then the dwindling woodpile. Tomorrow...for now, there is enough.
His mind reflects on the maze of the labrinth that he runs, trying to find a way free.....
His only fear...that this labrinth has no exits.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
One Moment....Forever.
Turning left in the maze....trying to escape the persuing darkness, evading the cracks of the whips so near at hand....A bright light shines, unexpectedly.
"I am pregnant"
The words from her lips like a gently breeze flowing through his whole being....the music in his head, in his heart, multiplied tenfold, his love for her ever growing...ever enveloping...their souls entwining, their bodies embracing....two lights meeting, dancing...becoming..a third small...but brilliant..light.
Every fiber of his being bristling with energy....old memories of his own father rushing to the forefront of his mind...captivated...enthralled with the chance of becoming more than himself...more than a mere man....
but that greatest of all things that is....a Father.
He caresses her face gently, his heart screaming joy, his mind swimming with the possibilities. To make right what his stepfather never showed him...to make good on his own fathers teachings...
She smiles slightly, as he holds her hand...speaking of Kross...
Long after the moment fades...and she sleeps. He leaves the tent...and once again enters the maze....
But this time, he does not run away. With a grim smile of determination, he begins his trek toward the sound of the whips, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"I am pregnant"
The words from her lips like a gently breeze flowing through his whole being....the music in his head, in his heart, multiplied tenfold, his love for her ever growing...ever enveloping...their souls entwining, their bodies embracing....two lights meeting, dancing...becoming..a third small...but brilliant..light.
Every fiber of his being bristling with energy....old memories of his own father rushing to the forefront of his mind...captivated...enthralled with the chance of becoming more than himself...more than a mere man....
but that greatest of all things that is....a Father.
He caresses her face gently, his heart screaming joy, his mind swimming with the possibilities. To make right what his stepfather never showed him...to make good on his own fathers teachings...
She smiles slightly, as he holds her hand...speaking of Kross...
Long after the moment fades...and she sleeps. He leaves the tent...and once again enters the maze....
But this time, he does not run away. With a grim smile of determination, he begins his trek toward the sound of the whips, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Smale beems of Selunes grace landed on the forest floor, the breeze shifting the limbs of the nearby trees.... An owl flies by, the strong beat of it's wings deafening...and then all is quiet again. Why he still remained...
The broken tower standing defiant, pointing its arthritic fingers into the air. Perhaps the knowledge of what was was lost...the countless lives this structure sheltered. Now...it may shelter once again. It was a possibility he was not ready to rule out...why he remained....
He breathes shallow and even now...if she came...or was around...she would pass right by. Most would....
Except for the white of one single eye...he was not even there. Leaves, mud, dirt, twigs...covered his whole body as he lay next to the trunk of a great oak...he doubted that even in daylight she would see, much less now. Blending in with the floor...with the tree....he was a part of the earth once again.
Not since coming to this land had he had the pleasure of the night stalk...eyeing an encampment for numbers, weaknesses, routines.
The clouds thickened, the rains came. The outer layer of leaves kept off the rain, preventing the dirt and mud from washing away from his body. He lay, starring...no thought, no distraction...eye wandering the darkness in front of him.
The others had come and gone, by the time he had arrived.... they should not have come. Before settling in, he erased their tracks from the ground, arranging everything back in its place. Too long....much too long it had been since he had the chance to do what he had been trained for. Stalk...wait...watch....think of how to strike...when to strike....
COuld he trust the one the mists touched? No....he was as much suspect as she. He had his secrects....Christophen could respect that. He only hoped those secrets were not a switch to a pitfall filled with iron spikes in this maze he ran....A mental image of Akbar...Laurelin...Renunzio...Zuna..his own wife....all impaled on large iron spikes while he stood over the trap...his helm concealing a mirthless smile....He shut the thought away tightly.
His wife....
He was no warden...no jailor...he refused to voice his concerns. And his suspicions about why Ironsides wanted her along. Bait? To draw her out? Or something darker? He was not her keeper...he refused to be. She would know when the time... His love for her screeming at him to protect her to the last...but wisdom enough to know not to smother or limit.
He could here the whips..distantly...always.
His eye narrows now, as the sun begins to rise... Nothing this night.
He rises slowly, erasing any trace he was even there...then proceeds south around the grounds of the enormous bear he had seen earlier...it was best not to disturb the natural in their grounds...he was the trespasser, and they with the rights. A wolf appeared in his mind for a split moment, he shoved the image away. He would atone for his late action later. Perhaps to Dammak.
Kalia....
Immediately the thought is caged in steel bars, not to be let out....
He walks quietly through the leaves, from tree to tree...home just an hour or two away....home and sleep...
To dream.......He shudders slightly, and walks on.
The broken tower standing defiant, pointing its arthritic fingers into the air. Perhaps the knowledge of what was was lost...the countless lives this structure sheltered. Now...it may shelter once again. It was a possibility he was not ready to rule out...why he remained....
He breathes shallow and even now...if she came...or was around...she would pass right by. Most would....
Except for the white of one single eye...he was not even there. Leaves, mud, dirt, twigs...covered his whole body as he lay next to the trunk of a great oak...he doubted that even in daylight she would see, much less now. Blending in with the floor...with the tree....he was a part of the earth once again.
Not since coming to this land had he had the pleasure of the night stalk...eyeing an encampment for numbers, weaknesses, routines.
The clouds thickened, the rains came. The outer layer of leaves kept off the rain, preventing the dirt and mud from washing away from his body. He lay, starring...no thought, no distraction...eye wandering the darkness in front of him.
The others had come and gone, by the time he had arrived.... they should not have come. Before settling in, he erased their tracks from the ground, arranging everything back in its place. Too long....much too long it had been since he had the chance to do what he had been trained for. Stalk...wait...watch....think of how to strike...when to strike....
COuld he trust the one the mists touched? No....he was as much suspect as she. He had his secrects....Christophen could respect that. He only hoped those secrets were not a switch to a pitfall filled with iron spikes in this maze he ran....A mental image of Akbar...Laurelin...Renunzio...Zuna..his own wife....all impaled on large iron spikes while he stood over the trap...his helm concealing a mirthless smile....He shut the thought away tightly.
His wife....
He was no warden...no jailor...he refused to voice his concerns. And his suspicions about why Ironsides wanted her along. Bait? To draw her out? Or something darker? He was not her keeper...he refused to be. She would know when the time... His love for her screeming at him to protect her to the last...but wisdom enough to know not to smother or limit.
He could here the whips..distantly...always.
His eye narrows now, as the sun begins to rise... Nothing this night.
He rises slowly, erasing any trace he was even there...then proceeds south around the grounds of the enormous bear he had seen earlier...it was best not to disturb the natural in their grounds...he was the trespasser, and they with the rights. A wolf appeared in his mind for a split moment, he shoved the image away. He would atone for his late action later. Perhaps to Dammak.
Kalia....
Immediately the thought is caged in steel bars, not to be let out....
He walks quietly through the leaves, from tree to tree...home just an hour or two away....home and sleep...
To dream.......He shudders slightly, and walks on.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
