Fallen Expressions

[Magile]

This thread will be dedicated to the on-going story of Louen Therin. There will be meta-information, like most stories yield, as well as background information and aspects on his life some may not know about.

For those wishing to avoid certain information, each post will be updated with a title in bold, along with an ((underlined)) portion beside it, stating one of the following:

*The Past
*The Present
*Dreams

Each story's title will be placed on the reply after this one, to allow readers to find the one they wish or avoid the ones they do not wish to read (possibly all of them if they choose to).

The past will be history, prior events and things that characters may know about if they listen to gossip (such as the fall of the Lathanderite paladin) and more obscure tales, like the childhood Louen had.

The present will be stories based on recent in-game activities and thoughts -- these posts will have meta information, so if you are a person who'd rather find out in-game, you may want to avoid these posts. Like other tales, these will broadcast what transpired through the eyes of their character during the event, so read with that in mind.

Dreams will involve both the past, the present and ultimately just meaningful nothingness (if you can wrap your head around this). There may be some meta information from the past, but nothing story-breaking that would drive someone away from reading.

All stories will be posted here. People may respond and talk about it if they will, or give pointers if they feel the stories are lacking or require a bit of change in terms of how they are written. They will be third person, but in the eyes of the "main" character. Ultimately, I hope everyone enjoys this thread when it finally fleshes out and enjoys the RP they may or may not have with me and my PC.

Thanks in advance

[Magile]

INDEX
A Fool's Focus((PAST)) on page 1

[Magile]

A Fool’s Focus ((Past))

Their heads turned in unison. The blade came down, severing the man’s head from his body, blood pouring out like a freshly popped bottle of wine. Neither screams nor shouts echoed throughout the ruined temple’s hall – the pained expressions on everyone’s face told more than voices ever could. To some, this marked the end of a dangerous criminal whose menacing behaviour will never be dealt with again. To others, this marked the beginning of hardship as their lives picked up from where they once screeched to a halt.

But to Louen, this marked the beginning of something new.

A shattering noise pierced everyone’s ears as the once-holy blade by Louen’s side fell upon the floor like icicles from a rooftop. Jonas Therin’s mouth gaped wide, his blind eyes wavering as they stared down on his family’s heirloom that was to be redeemed. The words stuck in his throat, his eyes began to well-up with tears of sorrow and distress.

“No!” he shouted at Louen, accusing eyes staring daggers into his back, “You were supposed to save it! You were supposed to atone it for its past misdeeds!” But the shrill voice was drowned from Louen’s ears, his mind in utter turmoil. Fists clenched tightly on the handle of Myrkul’s scythe, whispers ranting wildly inside of Louen’s head.

Pain overwhelmed him. The warmth and light within his body fled, his soul feeling wrenched from his body with force. The Morninglord pitied his actions and abandoned his cause, taking with Him everything that He ever inspired in the young once-paladin. Louen’s hands went as cold as a winter’s storm, the spark in his eyes faded while his mind and personality withered to almost extinction. He hugged the long, boned weapon, looking for warmth and comfort.

Good, kyah~haha! its demented spattering stung Louen’s body. Change the world! With me, you will be unstoppable! With me, we can purge the lands! You do not need these… savages! The demonic tones spurred and swayed Louen’s movement. He stepped wildly away from the body, his left hand pressed against his forehead, spreading blood onto his skin and hair as he began to laugh with the inaudible voice.

“The world...” Louen’s voice trembled with fear and joy, “I can change it all!”

Everyone began to stare blindly at him now. The pained glance of Garlus’ sunken dwarven eyes tried to cut Louen down like the very axe he held, while Dawn’s excited grin for the vengeance she sought fed every bit of Louen’s mentality. Attal’s head shook with hypocritical disapproval as Marcus’ frightened expression could have sent shiver’s down even the toughest of men’s spines.

He began to laugh.

“Son,” the calm tone returned to Jonas’ panicked face, “put that damnable weapon down. There is still a chance! You may atone for this wrong doing!” His hands slowly motioned toward the maddened warrior, pointing at the ground in a suggestive manner. The sturdy dwarf took to the blind man’s side, further adding leverage to the moment.

“Do you not see, father?” The boy laughed at this jest, “Are you not aware of what I can now do? No longer will I be in your shadow! No longer do I have to sit by and let the unjust and cruel slip past the hands of the incompetence this law has shown! I can recreate the world… bring about a NEW WORLD! I will NOT let this slip by me again!” His tone was filled with excitement and madness, a doomsayer’s prophet would be drowned out by his mad ravings.

Garlus tightened his grip, teeth clenched hard beneath his unkempt beard. “Taint be dahin’ ehis lad. Listen tah Jonas ahn taint dah anahtin stoopahd!” His thick accent merely added strength to his words as the narrowed, beady eyes stared threateningly toward Louen and the weapon he was wielding. Every notion of stopping that weapon from leaving the hall was clear and sound to the individuals surrounding the room, which only angered Louen more. They began to approach one another.

“Stop!” Like an arena’s master, Jonas chimed in harshly and halted all movement within the room. “Leave us, everyone. I will stop the boy, it is the only way I could ever live with myself.” His blind gaze fell upon Garlus, the look of nothingness pushing the dwarf away begrudgingly. The companions fell back out of the ruins, away from the sight of the walls within. A father’s pained expression did nothing to the monstrous son’s heart as they both inched closer toward one another.

Why does he persist?{/i] The brooding child’s thoughts continually slammed into his mind. He circled his father slowly, worried hands skittering about the scythe’s handle like rats on a building’s beam. Must he always steal the show? Must he always end up the hero? His feelings raced through him as empty emotions ran rampant, thrashing at every fiber of his being. Must I?... Must I!?.... I MUST!

He struck at Jonas.

The blow was parried, leaving him unsteady. His eyes closed shut and cringed as he prepared for his life to be stolen away, but no metal pierced his flesh. Louen rolled away, bewildered that his father missed an opportunity. He grinned, exclaiming, “Seems you have lost your touch, old man! I was right to succeed you this day!” The words were mixed with fiendish cackling; any sign of this mortal’s soul seem lost.

“No,” Jonas wiped a tear from his eye, a disheartened feeling tore at his posture and stance, “I will… I will stop you, my son… and I will forgive you…I will save you!” Each word sounded tormented as the old man stepped forward, bracing Louen for an assault. The blows erupted onto Louen’s plate, striking quickly and numerously, stammering and sending the son spiraling to the ground. Wild laughter took the place of agony cries.

“Save ME!?” the voice echoed loudly, the disgust prevalent in Louen’s words, “Father… I am already saved! Let me bring you salvation!”

They leapt at one another, blows viciously being flung from each man. The sound of metal clanging on metal rang louder than any church’s bells, and the spattering of blood from both men’s being decorated the floor like a sacrificial chamber. Their breathing grew heavy as the blows continued on – a scythe swings upward toward the jugular; a sword flies straight toward the shoulder, sword drops sideways across the legs; a scythe aims diagonally toward the chest. No rest was meant for the wicked nor righteous this day.

Jonas’ speed began to slow as the time went on, his blows lacking in the force they once had. Each swing appeared more textbook than the last -- the choreographed swordplay being noticed by his son. Louen parried and swung.

The pained shriek was enough to send any child beneath their bed covers, the blood pouring out onto the rocks like a waterfall’s foaming end. Jonas’ breath became heavy as he leaned hard against the wall of the cavern. His sword hand dropped to his side, resting the holy blade between the rocks at his feet. Tears rolled down his eyes, not from fear of death, but from the failure he was about to endure. A towering figure that vaguely resembled his son stood before him, eyes peering out of the shadows the pillars spread across his body.

“It is over, father.” An arm coiled around the scythe’s handle, Louen’s hatred subsiding within his eyes, “You have fought well, but I have finally stepped out of your shadow. The world will be changed for the better… and I will be the one to make sure of it.” He stared coldly at the shell of a man beneath him, his father crumpling into deep unconsciousness within the temple’s ruins. Laughter erupted from his lungs, unexpectedly overwhelming the emotions he once felt. He shook his head as the laughter continued, turning and walking away from the husk of a being that was once known to him as ‘father.’

The unjust and unworthy will be purged. The blade continued to speak to Louen, its being entwining itself with any bit of soul the man had held together. Together… you will be unstoppable. Cradling its handle, the young man murmured to himself wandered off toward the exit of the ruins, nodding along with each step. His boots heavily stomped upon the soiled concrete, a declaration of victory and triumph creased his face into a twisted smile. To Jonas Therin, this marked the end of everything he had once loved in his life. To their companions, this marked the beginning of sorrow, distraught and rebuilding for themselves.

But to Louen… this marked the beginning of something spectacular.

[Magile]

[Update up. Reserved post]