Dancer Between

[Misty]

“Here goes,” I say brightly. “Get ready!”

“Careful,” Delawyn cautions. This is why we were bid come here, proving our faith by testing a prison. And slaying the prisoner if he broke free. Malevolent shadows attack and harry, spending many a spell and taking one life. I pray it is still imprisoned.

An ugly... sort of... thing... stood within a runed circle. Three other lightening doors led out, with three levers in front of the ugly thing. Gasps and whispers of revulsion follow me into the room.

“Oh wow,” Renunzio’s voice floats behind me. “That is vile.”

“I am pleasssed,” the ugly thing hissed? Chortled? Delawyn whispers a sacred litany under his breath, the dwarf curses, Skyven mutters some nonsense about a raven’s loft. “Come forward elves and the like of you.”

Well, leading stinks sometimes, but I know what I would expect if another were in my place. Damned standards. I walk up to it, with the others behind me, hoping they had the sense to run if things went sour, and knowing a few of them would not. “Uhm...” I squeaked. “Hello there?”

“Looks sealed to me,” remarks Qillia.

“Isn't it bound?” asks Renunzio.

“Qillia has a point,” Delawyn states.

“Sealed? This?” the ugly thing sounds like it plays coy. Which made it uglier. “If it was,” it pauses for dramatic effect while Skyven babbles, “could I do this?” It gestures with an arm? Wing? Some ugly appendage, and shadows rose and attacked Delawyn. The others comment on the levers and doors and how the thing seems sealed enough while it watches Delawyn make short work of the shadows. “Want more?” it offers.

“One lever needs to be reset,” I toss behind me. Why? I don’t know. I know too little of magics, no talent and all that. You know this.

“Much more?” it continues to offer, “oh so much more?” I just stare at it. Of course we don’t want more shadows. “Oh! Let me allow myself to be presented.” The others continue to talk and grumble, so it raises its voice, “Hear me. You mussst hear me. I am More't Chezant, creator of this place. Holder of knowledge of the depths. I know all there is to know about the realm you walk in. And this knowledge can be yours, yes it can.”

“If we free you, right?” Renunzio answers with a grin.

“I would not expect you to do such.”

“Run for it and cave it all in?” I whisper to Delawyn.

“A physical barrier such as that will do little to stop a mage,” he whispers back.

“Perhaps you seek something of a ,” the thing ponders aloud, then looks right at me. Dammit. “A key?” Jerk.

I grin my cheesiest grin yet, “I like keys. Keys make it easy.”

“I know the key you seek,” it bargains.

“Uhm. Right.”

“I know who has it.”

“Right.”

“Yesss,” it hisses in its most winning fashion. Ew.

I somehow grin even wider, whispering through my teeth to Delawyn, “I want to run.” Under his breath Renunzio reminds me to be polite.

“So do I,” Delawyn whispers back. “Doesn't make it a good idea.”

“Yes,” I object, still whispering. “Yes it does.”

“Be polite?” Skyven asks.

“Listen to your friend Skyven,” the thing cautions, “Or you will dance once more with my shadows.”

“Alright,” I whisper back, before it thinks I’m rude. Which I am. “Then I have to talk to it. And you know, I'm not really all that wise. Or good.”

“I trust you, cousin,” he says. Dammit. He shouldn’t. But anyway.

“Come closer, darling Laurelin,” it beckons me. I don’t think I hide my shivering, but I don’t really care, either. I step forward a little bit.

“Yesss,” it hisses. “Closer....”

I walk a little closer, scared grin pasted across my face, stopping at the very edge of the runes.

“The one you seek,” he begins quietly, “a drow wizard. He has the key you seek.” I cannot help it. I whine a little. It is really scary when it is only a foot away. “Yessss, I have both name and a way to get there.” I only manage a tiny voice indicating for him to continue. “I propose a trade.”

“Yes, of course,” I giggle, my voice far too high. Skyven objects loudly, with several others trying to hush him.

“Oh Skyven,” it says with dismay, I think. “Dance for me, Skyven.” And poof! Just like that a few shadows rise and attack him.

“Beeeee pooolliiiiiite,” I grimace at the others. We don’t need to complicate things. More. “Please?” I return to facing the thing. So damned ugly. “You were saying? Sir?”

It leans towards me. It smells bad. Very bad. I shiver. Then it whispers, “A trade, I say.”

“What sort?” I whisper back, my back stiff.

“What have you to offer? I trade with knowledge.” Its bargaining seems a bit off. I mean, if it knows everything, what could I give? Besides freeing it of course. Which I had no intention of doing. “And a way to win someone’s heart perhaps?” Any attempt to hide my surprise fails pathetically. “I see and read the hearts of people. I see their wishes. Their hopes and wants.” It straightens up while I continue to think about what it offers. Who’s heart do I want and not have? Wouldn’t I know who I want? And I’m pretty sure I have it. It speaks louder for the rest to hear, though still sort of addressing me, “It is apparent you don’t intend to release me. Or?” It giggles madly. My ears hurt.

“I need no path to hearts. Too many lay at my feet,” I try to sound defiant. I think I come across as sad, though.

“The wrong ones perhaps,” it taunts me.

“I have naught to offer you, for you claim knowledge of all.”

“Oh poor Laurelin, never getting the ones she wants,” it sings horribly.

“You know all yet nothing! What do you want?!” I manage to not stomp my foot.

“Perhaps I should share all my secrets,” it croons at me. My skin crawls.

“You offer me one thing of value, but I can find that on my own. You are trapped enough.” I do not spin on my heel, for I must watch it.

“I tire from this goody group,” it giggles and sighs. “Together you hide behind the honor you think you defend.” Huh? “Come to me, any of you, when you are prepared to trade. Alone, perhaps then your true wishes and hopes come forth.” It turns to me, “Alone. At night, right Laurelin? Do you feel loved now?”

“Just for laughs, whose heart do you think I want?” I sneer, I cannot help it. It makes me angry. Maybe that is what it wants.

“Now, now,” it chides. “Trade. Trade, I don’t give away so easily.”

“I’ve nothing to offer the likes of you.”

“Nor to anyone who would share your side?” What is it getting at?

Qillia’s voice rings clear, minding us of our task. “Her cousins have nothing but love for her, and she well knows that. You sow doubt and offer empty promises because you've nothing to give.”

“Riight, mister... Chezant?” Renunzio steps up before I can forget our purpose.

“Are you alone, Laurelin?” It ignores the bard.

“Nae. Sir.”

“Farewell,” it turns to study Renunzio. “Yes, little one?”

“Think it's time to run, ladies and gentlemen,” I call to the others. Some agree and run, but as I thought might happen, most stay. I move to stand beside Delawyn who resolutely holds his ground.

“What sort of trade?” the hin sweetly asks. “I mean, sure, everyone wants Laurelin's basket of goodies,” he starts. Someone please remind me to slap him.

Delawyn whispers to me, my rapier ready in his hand, “Renunzio and I have been talking, he's going to try and talk him in circles and try to get something out of him.”

“He’s good at that.”

“Exactly,” he returns to his vigil, and I to mine.

“But,” Renunzio continues, “I was wondering what a fellow like yourself would be needing. I mean besides a new suit,” he sighs dramatically. “I understand that. I really do. So, what would you do with it? Freedom, I mean? Go back to where you came from? Or wreak havoc here?”

“Start a tavern,” it answers. “Where I can make a bard famous.”

“Wow,” Delawyn whispers to me, “it's not even a good lie.”

“I can do that you know,” it offers in its wheedling voice. “I can share with you the songs of famous people.”

“But I can make up my own. I am great,” Renunzio smiles that charming smile of his that says he thinks the other might just be a little damaged in the head.

“The lost lyrics that were once known,” It continues.

“Old lyrics are grand,” the hin concedes, “but new ones are the creation of chaos. But I really hate to see anything imprisoned. But, if you were free, some great Priest would just come along and destroy you,” he reasons. “And that would be more harmful to you. Unless, of course, you went back to the plane that you came from.”

“A great priest?” it challenges.

“Well, you know, as priests go. Or some god. Or some powermad wizard.”

“Very well, then release me,” it demands, “so I may meet this priest.”

“I mean,” Renunzio continues without real pause, “look at you now: how did you end up here? You ended up here by not being where you should be, didn't you?”

“I was hunted,” it tries to sound sad. “Like a prize.”

“That can't have been nice,” the bard agrees. “So, I would kind of like to help. But not if it is going to screw things up for everyone.”


I interrupt to ask of the bard, “Can we go get our key? Then you can come back and talk to him?”

“I guess so,” he sounds genuinely sad.

“Pull the levers behind you there and all is well,” the thing calls out. So, that is how to rellease him. So, he is good and trapped. So... very nice.

“Things seem pretty well right now, sir,” I taunt right back to him.

“Not like he will be going anywhere,” Renunzio reminds us as we turn to leave it. I shoo them out. “I am really sorry Mister Chezant. If I can find a way to help you go home.. I will be back.”

I wave and say bye bye. Then yell for the others to go. I guess I forgot to say if we retreat, I’m last so they better run and fast. Next time. Yes, there will be a next time. Dammit.

[Inwintersshadow]

Fun piece of work:)

[Misty]

Melancholy stalks where I now tread,
Chasing laughter with gloom, joy with dread,
Faster I dance, swifter I run,
Every end she greets me, solemn and glum.

My green-eyed love is honey sweet,
Yet few kin or friends do we meet.
Melancholy visits oft for tea,
Her soul-weary eyes fixed on me.

Dearest friends in the Dales reside,
Over mountains far and wide,
Walk I do in the shadows unseen,
Melancholy follows, hungry and mean.

To the fey ring I laugh and sing,
Wine and prayer do I bring,
Yet Her thieving gloom did descend,
chasing away little fey friend.

I beg and plead for her to leave,
I tire of pain, tears and grief,
One thing only will banish this friend,
And I am not yet ready for The End.

Accept I must, silent and still,
Her sad, sad eyes and cold, empty chill,
No help left for the broken soul,
Melancholy and I together now stroll.

[Misty]

Chameleon kind I give to you,
Shining wine of midnight blue,
Acquired in the manner true,
For your kind favor I pray.

Soon, too soon do we descend,
For the Dale we all defend,
Death and worse do portend,
For swift feet do I pray.

Key of lime do I seek,
In traitor’s lair will I peek,
As a shadow soft and sleek,
For light fingers do I pray.

Wit I need and wisdom, too
I give these gifts unto you,
In the shadows kissed with dew,
For your luck I pray.

[Misty]

These are the hours no one sings about,
No great triumph, no enemies to rout,
No tragic fall, no bittersweet end,
Hours and hours, talking with a friend.

The water gently echoes in the cavern we sit,
Paved and polished a shrine now fit,
The fire warms and dries the air,
He folds his arms and leans ‘gainst his chair.

Paint I wield, no weapon this night,
Put to paper as is proper and right,
first we speak of devilish concern,
Sharing notions over all we’ve learned.

Facts swift spent and ideas all told,
Our words drift over wounds of old,
For the first time able to speak,
both without pain nor tears leak.

Proving again, the age-old rhyme,
For every wound, there is the balm of time,
A second truth on soul-wounds tragic:
Love works its own magic.

Philosophy reared it aged head,
Warn he did of where we tread,
Undaunted we stroll down Theory’s Walk,
Several hours more did we talk.

Water and fire, dark and light,
Natural melody through the night.
No matter the foes below and above,
These are the hours I most love.

Another old rhyme I cannot ignore,
As we both show weary and sore,
Ready for goodbyes and closing doors:
Now I to mine and you to yours.

[wvincenti]

*applauds*

Lets hear it for peace and quiet.



-Bill

[danielmn]

[Misty]

I do not want your kisses, dear,
Nor do you want mine,
You would do anything
For a drop of this wine.

Great power I wield
Poured in my hand,
I ought to use it
For something grand.

I shall call for The Dance
With a smile and a wink,
Then pour it in my palm
And watch you drink.

This fermented laughter
Is ours for a price,
If to great mischief
You can be enticed.

No small trifling prank
Of books, dyes or paint,
But something so grand
To make the council faint.

What notions have you, dear,
For our play this clear night?
To what lengths will you go
For the Jester’s Delight?

[Misty]

The moonstone slips off my wrist,
See it glint in the light,
Memoir of more than a simple tryst,
I wonder if he is still right?

To the Seldarine you belong,
He said with tears bright,
Then he turned and walked along
the hall into the night.

Now wrapped in silk of softest grey,
Hidden from the light,
I put the moonstone of faith away,
Locked out of sight.


The pendant green falls from my neck,
A starburst they did write,
Magic of fey in every speck,
It shines of their delight.

In thanks it came from dryad and faun,
Helping set to right
A small matter into which I was drawn,
And ruined the gambol’s night.

Now wrapped in silk of softest grey,
Hidden from the light,
I put the pendant of faith away,
Locked out of sight.


The raven’s head I now wear,
Black with rubies bright,
Behind the mask I say a prayer,
Then fade into the night.

[Inwintersshadow]

Ah wonderful...

[Mizbiz]

[Misty]

Where are you now?

In the wind upon the water.

Where I sit.

When you are sad.

I miss you.

I know.

Have you passed on?

How could I not?

Did you know...?

This would happen?

Did you see...?

A chance for you to live?

Did you plan...?

Your next life?

It hurts.

Yes.

I am sorry.

I am not.

Why?

Love.

[Brimsar the Wanderer]

Beautiful. Simply beautiful

[wvincenti]

*reaches for box of tissues, wipes his eyes ... smiling*

[Inwintersshadow]

Lady just gets better an better.....