[RP] Black and Blue

[Rigwyn]

Thanks for posting the logs, Karnath..  that was fun.. 

A brief update on the story follows:


Prior to Karnath's logs:

Rigwyn and Monala ( Stellan's significant other) had discussed the possibility of removing the curse from Stellan. The curse in question causes blinding pain followed by depression and suicidal urges. After discussing it for a while, they agreed to a tryst in exchange for the removal. Little did Monala know, Rigwyn had the plague and had been actively spreading it wherever he could. Infecting Monala with the plague, and thus Stellan and their baby indirectly was certainly intended.

Later on, Stellan found out. The three of them discussed the removal of his curse again, but tempers flared, and Stellan touched Rigwyn - causing him to suffer the effects of the curse. Having rapidly fallen into a wicked depression, Rigwyn eventually left - discarding all of his possessions and clothes - with the exception of his glyph sack.

Later on, he came accross Mordan in the plaza. Wanting to enjoy a last view before he ended his own life for good, he offered Mordan a favor in return for being shown the one place Mordaan would want to see before he died - if his days were numbered.  Having seen several sights that he had never seen before, and having been on top of the very wall surrounding Hydlaa, his depression had faded, and the urge to end his own life passed, thought the hallucinations continued to come and go - growing progressively stronger each time they returned.

Having become raving mad from the plague, Rigwyn was wandering the streets - talking to people who weren't there, and  accusing people of conspiring against him. At this point he came across Taya and Karnath outside the Red Crystal Den.

At this point, Karnath's logs come into play.

Though not clearly reflected in the logs, Evirea was present with Karnath and Taya. After Taya left, Evirea remained.   

[Rigwyn]

Let the Healing Begin ( Part 1 )
By Mariana and Rigwyn

Rigwyn 's body lay limp upon the hard, stone pavement. Face down on the ground with little more than the scraps of clothes on his back, a Taya scampered off with a fist full of his glyphs - the rest remained scattered all over the ground. As she left, Evirea watched the woman go, trying to decide whether it would be worth the tussle to get the glyphs back. She cast a glance at Rigwyn, remembering two rather painful blows to her face, and decided it wouldn't be worth the effort. Instead, she put two gloves on her hands, and rolled down her thick carakas-feather sleeves. "Well," she said. "You and I have work to do, it seems." She moved to begin dragging the Diaboli. With each pull, the sound of light sand and pebbles gritted beneath Rigwyn 's heels as they dragged against the pavement.  As  as distinct as it was, it paled in comparison to the much louder sound of chatter emanating from the plaza. Evirea continued to drag the Diaboli. She grunted from the effort, then decided to change her course. Moving towards the tavern, she offered Allelia pay for a room, and then began the laborious effort of pulling the dead weight up the stairs.

Looking like a typical drunk being dragged to a room - with his face swollen, cut and bruised, Evirea heaved his lifeless form over each step, into a room, and finally locked the door.  She flopped him on the bed--not without a considerable about of effort, and removed a length of rope from her bags. Cutting it into three parts, she tied him firmly down, not wanting to deal with an angry Diaboli who could probably kill her. Then, taking a very potent smelling herb from her travel-sack, she popped his mouth open, and deposited the substance.

"Wakey wakey."

An echo filled the room like a stone splashing into a pond. The sound of a feminine voice rang in his head as he drowsily flopped it from side to side. Without warning, a horribly rancid taste filled his mouth - causing his eyes to water and his tongue to poke out. He spat, but the vile, green leaf remained on his tongue. Suddenly, realizing that something was in his mouth, he started to connect the voice with the herb.

Evirea stepped back and crosses her arms over her chest, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "Well well well," she hummed. "It's Rigwyn, if memory serves. You, you look like you've made a mess of things. You hardly look good. Hell, you probably can't even tell what I'm saying right now, can you?"

Rigwyn watched a pair of blurred faces as he wondered about the strangely familiar voice.  Eyes crossed, then widened as the faces switched over, then merged into one. A moment passed, then the memory of her became as clear as day.  With a shout, he attempted to leap from the bed to strangle her, but only managed to yank at his restraints.
 
Evirea tsked again. "You don't want me to administer a sedative...ah, well." She began rooting through her things, pulling out a needle and a jar, along with a small blade. "You wouldn't be able to sleep through this anyway, at least, probably not."

Rigwyn 'e eyes bulged at the sight of the needle. He shouted violently as he pulled and jerked at his bindings - shaking the bed with each panicked thrust. As minutes passed, his arms and legs grew weak and heavy with exhaustion. Fully away of how helpless he was, and how useless the struggle was, his jerks and twitches slowed - then eventually stopped.

"You! I know who you are! What are you doing to me!?"

Evirea picked up the jar and the knife. Crossing to Rigwyn, she moved to make a shallow cut across his bicep. "Healing you actually," she said. "Oh, it will hurt. Have you ever had your skin peeled? No...probably not. This will take some time, I don't have a convenient crystal mage, I'll have to do it section by section and bandage it up until later. But...I should be able to get rid of the disease."

Startled and somewhat enraged, he shouted, "WHAT!? NO!", then began to thrash and shake frantically as the blade cut into his flesh and Evirea's words cut far, far deeper. He looked at her as if puzzled asking, "You can't really be serious!?", then returned to shouting again as he pulled and yanked at the ropes with everything he had. Doom, helplessness, anxiety and sheer horror set in all at once.

Evirea collected the blood with an eerie calm, crossing to the table. She lit a small fire there, setting up a strange metal apparatus and allowed the blood to reach a steady boil. "I am very serious," she said. "I'm assuming that...since you are so hesitant to be cured, you want to...keep the illness? Is that it?" She shook her head. "A strange situation indeed." As she waited for the blood, she crosses back to Rigwyn with another jar in her hands, and loomed over him, her hand still clutching the blade.

As he shouted, he noticed Jackly walking casually behind Evirea with a smug grin on his face. The Ylian looked at him with a mocking sense of concern, then spoke in a rather matter-of-fact tone, "You know Rigwyn, you do deserve what's coming to you. After all the immoral things you've done, its of no surprise. Do you have any idea how much hurt you've caused others?" He laughed, then continued, "Surely not. I look forward to seeing what Evirea plans on doing with that jar."

Evirea frowned as she listened to Rigwyn's sputtering and gasping, watching him flail about. A look of pity crossed her features, but she did not stop. After all, in the end, it really IS for the man's own good. She removed a scoop of the cool, strange, viscous substance and slashed open the Diaboli's shirt. Then, she began to apply it to a small section.

"This is going to burn."

[Rigwyn]

Let the Healing Begin ( Part 2 )

Feeling his shirt torn and the cool air that rushed against his skin, Rigwyn looked at the glob of mush as it was applied to his chest. It felt wet and smooth like mud at first, then like scalding water, and finally like fire. Bellowing as loud as he could, the Diaboli's wrists and ankles grew bright red as the rope tore into his skin.  Thighs spazzing, back arching, he bounced and jerked to no avail. As he did, Jackly covered his own mouth with one hand - poorly concealing his laughter. His eyes tear with joy as two other Ylians enter the room and stood next to him - adding to the choir of mockery.   Evirea slowly shifted her hand. Using the tips of her claws through her gloves, she gently peeled away the first few layers of Rigwyn's skin, where the solution touched him. She cast this to the side, and as the blood began to pool, she immediately cleaned it thoroughly with alcohol, scrubbing away until she was certain that all is disinfected. Then, drawing a small pouch from her belt, she sprinkled a yellowish powder over the injury, meant to stop the bleeding. With each cruelly meticulous stroke, he unwillingly chose between staying still, or thrusting and contracting his limbs - only to feel his wrists and ankles tear and abraid further. Most of the time there was no actual choice - his body just reacted on its own.  His head and chest were beaded with sweat, his heart was pounding as rage and fear wrestled in his mind like two hungry ulbers fighting over a piece of meat. He stared painfully at Evirera, then shouted, "Let me go now, or I'll make you pay, you winged piece of crap!"

Evirea carefully cut away the rest of Rigwyn's clothing, except what was needed to keep him decent. Meticulously she began the same procedure over his body, peeling away the skin, trying to get every last trace of infection out. There was a coldness about her as she worked, as though she had withdrawn into her own little world "Keep doing that and I'll have more to heal when I'm done," she said softly.

Seeing Jackly and his shady friends laughing, pointing at his open wouds and making snide remarks about the color of dermis, he looked at Evirea sorrowfully, then gasped, "Please stop it! I'll do anything you want! no more.. please! I'm begging you!"

Evirea finished with the first portion of her treatment, and then gazed at the Diaboli. "Listen to me, Rigwyn," she said, approaching his head. "I'm going to help you. The things you are seeing are not real. Only I am real, and despite the pain, after it's said and done you will feel better for it. I need to get the sickness out of you. Do you see anyone else in this room? If you do, close your eyes. They are not truly there. They are lies." Hesitantly, she raised her hand, and cupped his face.

Rigwyn 's chin shook beneath Evirea's scaly palm as the intense pain turned into a warm burn. Feeling his head swim, he looked back at Jackly and noticed something strange. He was wearing a cloak and a hood, and so too were the other Ylians around him. They were'nt dressed like that before... or were they? As the small crowd chanted and raised their hands, he noticed a sensation of light headedness as the pain in his body transformed into a horrific, steady burn. It was like being lit on fire.

Evirea swore beneath her breath. She darted to the table and picked up the needle, dipping it in the blood. She pricked this into Rigwyn's arm, and then cast it aside, already moving to another step. She felt his head, knowing the fever even through her gloves, and carefully began to search through her things and pull out a vial. She forced the Diaboli's mouth open and tries to pour it down his throat.

Rigwyn clamped his lips and teeth shut and shook his head to the sides as she forced his mouth open and pried his teeth apart. Horrified by what might be in the vial, he groaned aloud as she poured its contents in.  Feeling the fluid rush against his tongue and uvula, and its repulsive taste torturing his tongue, he waited for the right moment to spit it out.
 
Evirea held her hand over the Diaboli's mouth and pinched his nostrils shut. She watches him closely, waiting for him to swallow it down as he thought about her terrible brew. As feelings of dread and anticipation exploded in the forefront of his mind, Jackly's voice grew louder, then took on a fanatical tone as he continued to berate him for his past deeds. "Your mind is affected," she said. "You see those people? You see those monsters? Whatever you see, it will go away. All you need to do, is swallow this, and they shall be totally powerless to touch you, Rigwyn." Horrified, and finally out of breath, he unwillingly swallowed, then gasped for breath. He coughed as hard as he could - trying desperately to make himself vomit it back up, but it was no use.
 
Evirea sighed. With the tips of her fingers, she moved to strike Rigwyn in the chest-hard - knocking the wind out of him as she did. She swore at the man. "Stop it," she snapped. "Stop it this instant, Rigwyn. You are being childish. You are ill, and the things you are seeing are not REAL! Only I am real, and I am a healer." Her words did little to reassure him, as Jackly and company appeared to be quite real. He could see them crawling under his bed one by one. He could feel their presence beneath him, he could taste the bitterness of the words they uttered, he could smell their intentions - and he knew that scent well.  Feeling his breath slowly return he looked at Evirea and whispered, "Don't let them take me away... please.. don't.. they don't mean well."

Evirea nodded slowly. In a strangely maternal way, she raised her hand back to Rigwyn's face. Her thumb stroked his cheek, and she offered her version of a reassuring smile. "Easy," she said gently. "Easy, let it kick in. No one is going to take you anywhere, now. You're safe. I'm not going to harm you, they aren't going to harm you. They aren't real. Come on back, now."

The whispers and cackled beneath the bed started to thin and lessen as the sensation of Evirea's hand caught his attention. He began to focus on her scaly skin, unlike his own - the texture of the smooth, cool scales, as they slid against him. Looking at her as if still confused, he nodded then muttered, "Go ahead." Not sure if he should trust her or not, he looked into her eyes. Not having any other choice,  he whispered, "Go ahead, I trust you."

Evirea smiled gently. She drew her hand away from Rigwyn's skin and then moved back to the table. This time, she produced a green, clear paste, and began to spread it gently over the Diaboli's sore flesh - bringing a soothing coolness to his feverish skin. "You know," she said. "I've met many people like you, Rigwyn. I think I understand you, perhaps. It got bad at some point, didn't it? And now people, everybody, they hate you. And they just make it worse."

Rigwyn watched Evirea's lips as she spoke - the sensation of the ointment creeping in after the initial sting from touching his red, exposed flesh. Body jerking involuntarily, he shook his head as he grumbled, "I just don't care. I don't care about anyone. I hope they all die miserably. Its not that I hate them... " he looked at Evirea and paused - not quite knowing if she would understand, then questioning whether he should open up at all. "Its just that I don't care. The world means nothing to me. They could all drop dead and it just wouldn't matter."

Evirea nodded slowly, continuing to apply the ointment. "The world is cruel," she said. "I myself feel little for others. But my work keeps me going. I've experienced the cruelty of the world, it chews you up, makes you weaker and weaker. And then people, they just spit on you, and spit more, and make it worse, don't they?" The klyros finished the application and sat back, allowing it to dry. "It's like you cannot get away from it, from the pain, and so you get hollow inside."

Rigwyn watched Evirea silently for a moment, then she waved her hand over Rigwyn's skin. "I'll make you a deal," she said.

"Whats that?"

"If you tell me your story, I will tell you mine."

Rigwyn continued to watch Evirea as if debating about what to do. He looked around the room, then back at her. Swallowing, he mumbled, "Sure, why not."

[Rigwyn]

Let the Healing Begin ( Part 3 )

Evirea pulled the chair out from the desk and sat on it. She began to clean her gloves, meticulously, using the same bottle of alcohol she used to clean the Diaboli's wounds. She started on her scaled hands, cleansing deeply, as deep as she could. Taking out a tria, she winked. "Heads or tails?" Rigwyn ignored Evirea at first, then said in a calm, detached tone, "As a kid, I remember hearing my father disciplining my mother. He did it daily, several times a day in order to keep her on the straight and narrow, so he said. Laanx was a demanding god who expected perfection and nothing short of it.  My father, being a Laanx priest had no tolerance for nonsense." After a pause, the looked at Evirea and said, "Heads"

Evirea tossed the coin idly, but reclined, waiting simply to hear Rigwyn continue the story.

"As she progressed in the faith and detached herself from Xiosa, His punishment became more intense. He would leave her bleeding and unable to get up off the floor when she failed to keep me in line. He gave her medicines to strenghten her, but they never worked. She was weak and sickly because of her lack of faith in Laanx, she was an utter failure as a mother. Her horrible parenting skills would lead to my demise. He told her that constantly, and he was right."

Evirea continued to listen. Softly, she interjected, "But he was wrong, Rigwyn."

"No, clearly he was right."
 
Evirea smiled gently, staring at something unseen, or perhaps just thinking about something in the past. "Tell me something, Rigwyn. Your desire to kill, now, your apathy, is that your fault? Is it your fault that you hurt people? Why do you no longer feel anything anymore?"

Rigwyn looked at Evirea as if puzzled, then says quickly, "I don't know why I don't care about people. I just don't. If I need to kill someone, I'll just do it - its not a big deal. Its nothing personal."
 
Evirea shook her head. "No," she replied. "That isn't why, Rigwyn. You do it because they beat you down. Time and again, they beat you down, over and over. Eventually you shut yourself down when that happens. You stop feeling anything anymore. That's what happened to your mother. She died, inside, day by day, blow by blow. And there was nothing left in her anymore. So when she killed you..." She looked him in the eyes,  "Well I'm sure she thought it was nothing personal, too."

"She said she was going to scrub the evil off of me. I... " After a pause he looked back at Evirea as if thinking about something, then continued, "It was nothing personal to her either.. she needed to make her life better. That rotten bitch... if I ever get my hands on her, I'll tear her to pieces!"

Evirea remained calm, sitting where she was. "She hurt you," she said, turning her face away from Rigwyn with a pained expression. "Pain...is not something easy to forget. Your father hurt her, and she, in turn, hurt you. You were there. You were her medium of escape. She was wrong, too, but she was both victim and criminal. Just as you are, Rigwyn."

Rigwyn closed his eyes as her words struck a sore spot. For a moment, the image of his bloody, battered mother returned - the helpless look in her eyes followed by a pained, teary scream for mercy as her back was lashed repeatedly with a long, thick cane. A moment of silence passed, then he mumbled.. "I couldn't help her... I ... hid."

Evirea smiled gently, a tear sliding down her scaly blue cheek. "I know," she whispered, as though the words are difficult to get past her throat. "I know how that feels, Rigwyn. I know what it's like to be helpless, to stand there, wishing you could have done something. Knowing that you never could. And blaming yourself...calling yourself the coward, feeling that you are the failure. I know."

"Then she got me back.. she said she would scrub the evil off of me - every last bit of it." Looking back at Evirea, then at the tear on her cheek, he closed his eyes once more - this time welling up with emotion. "How would YOU know?"
 
Evirea sat for a long time, as though building up the courage, even the willpower, to speak. When she did, her voice was hushed, the force it took to put the words in the air made her shoulders sag physically. "I was enrolled at an acedemy," she said. "I was the brightest and the best, they said. So they tasked me with finding a killer...The Butcher, they called him. He killed his victimes by cutting off all their limbs and cauterizing them with..." She clenched her eyes shut. "I was assigned the task of hunting him down."

Rigwyn's eyes rolled up and down as he looked at Evirea.. "I'm listening.."

Evirea rubbed her hands together. "I wasn't like you, no. My childhood was beautiful. I loved my parents...I was their only child. They told my mother she couldn't have children, you know?" She smiles. "She used to call me her little blessing." The klyros shook her head, and her tone dipped low again. "The killer found out that I was hunting him."

"So you were stalked, threatened, perhaps roughed up as a warning?"

Evirea smiled and gave a dry, cold laugh. There was suddenly a great coldness in her, a bitterness, it seemed from her mouth like venom. "I would have preferred he come for me," she said, "But he went after them. I walked home one day. The door was ajar. And they were inside. Their limbs scattered every which way. I stood in a puddle of their blood, and I looked at their wide, blank stairs....he'd stuck hooks through their head fins... and hung their heads from the ceiling. On the wall, he wrote in that red ink....'Regards, the Butcher.'"

Rigwyn silently watched Evirea as her expression changed, then nodded, "Go on."

Evirea rubbed her hands together. "I hunted him down," she said, "And I killed him. Slowly. And I've been hunting ever since. I'm a doctor, but I'm a hunter as well. I kill men like him. Those that take life...take it forever, without reason. Not send them to the Death Realm with petty squabbles...no. The true killers. Reapers of souls. But it's the passion for the hunt that drives me. Whoever I help, well..." She laughed wryly. "That's just an advantage."

"How close are you to catching this .. butcher?

Evirea shrugged softly. "Close enough," she admitted. "Because he's coming for me, and I'm going to be the bait that leads them to him." She looked towards Rigwyn with a sad smile. "You were my last patient, I think."

Rigwyn watched Evirea as her words trailed off, then asked, "You would give your own life to put this guy our of his misery? Is that what you're saying?"

Evirea chuckled softly. "In a way," she replied. "I suppose you could say...I'd rather not have a tarnished reputation, and I'd rather not see more bodies tied..." She trailed off, and clenched her eyes shut. "I...don't want any more bodies. I fear he's already taken someone...helpless. And that...bothers me."

"Helpless... better dead than helpless."

Evirea laughed quietly. "I'm not so sure," she replied. "Besides...he kills the able bodied too." She got up and approached Rigwyn, a knife in her hands. "So is this the end? Are you going to put an end to me?"

Rigwyn glanced at her knife, then back at her.
 
Evirea_ rolled her eyes at Rigwyn. "Oh, yes. I saved your ass so I could kill it," she said. She stooped by his feet and began to sever the ropes that bound him to the bed.

Rigwyn watched as the blood stained ropes fell to the floor, then looked at her as if puzzled. "Why are you setting me free? Don't you know that I can't be trusted?"

Evirea moved up towards Rigwyn's wrists. She loosened those bindings as well, examining the burns left on the Diaboli's wrists. Then, offering the man the knife, she says simply. "Going to kill me? Go ahead."

Rigwyn took the knife and raised it over his head as he stared into her eyes coldly. The smooth, warm leather handle brought a smile to his face as the thought of slicing her from the tip of her chin to her pelvis invaded his mind. His jaw tightened as he squeezed the handle as tight as he could.

Evirea merely watched Rigwyn, unmoving, waiting. She breathed slowly, calmly, as though in some sort of meditation, and watched him. There was a strangeness in her own expression, waiting to see what the Diaboli would decide to do. "It's your choice," she said.

Rigwyn's heart pounded. The sheer excitement of slashing her began to flood his mind. It tasted like chaos, and smelled like exhilaration, but then an image popped into his head. Her eyes, for just a moment, looked like his mother's. The word "Victim" came to mind, and then the memory of his father beating Zalloh mercilessly. Feeling a sense of disgust towards his father he pauses, then looked at Evirea again. Slowly, he lowered the knife.

Evirea remained seated on the bed for a long moment, eyes locked on Rigwyn's face. "Ah," she said, and her hand moved forward in an attempt to lightly grasp the hand that held the blade. "So you see, Rigwyn. There is something in you worth a great value, all you need is to see it."

It IS my choice... isn't it....?

Evirea nodded once. "It is," she replied. "To kill, or to let live." She stood up, to her feet, her eyes still locked on the Diaboli's face.

"I never wanted to be like that bastard..I even followed the teaching of Dakkru just to oppose him." Rigwyn looked at Evirea, then shook his head in disgust as memories of his father returned to his head.
 
Evirea nodded slowly, understanding the words that Rigwyn said, hearing them, perhaps even empathizing. "It's hard," she said. "You don't see yourself that way, you don't realize what you're doing. When I took out the killer...I..." Her brow furrowed. "It was like part of me shut down. All I could think was vengeance. And...it corrupted, I think. In the end. Getting even."

"Yes, It changes you. Once you start to do things differently, you mug someone, break someone's knees, take a life.. it gets easier. You realize that the rules that held you back were just someone else's rules. You see that you can break them at will - they you are not really bound by them. You thought about vengeance because that's what you wanted deep down inside. You chose not to lie to yourself about wanting revenge, but to be honest and admit it, own it, and seek it. The guilt you feel will dissolve as soon as you go through with it and kill this guy. Guilt is just an illusion."
 
Evirea breathed shallowly as she listened to Rigwyn's words. "Perhaps in some cases," she whispered. "But mine is a burden I must bear."

"Your morals are what society uses to control your mind. Take that control back, its your own mind. Its for you to control."

Evirea closed her eyes. "Without such scruples, there is chaos...the chaos that kills parents, that leads to the abuse of your mother. And her abuse of you. It was the absence of guilt that caused so much pain. Because there was no reason for them to stop."

"Scruples cause chaos."

"Then I suppose we are locked in infinite chaos."

"Kill this man who causes you pain, and the pain will stop. That's the answer. Plain and simple."
 
Evirea sighed quietly. "You don't understand Rigwyn. I can't kill him. I'm not powerful enough. I'm vulnerable to him. I'm the lamb, I'm going to be slaughtered, but the evidence I leave...while he is distracted, he can be destroyed."

Rigwyn took a piece of parchment from the table and a pen, then wrote something on it. He looked at her then handed it to her. "If you choose to die, then that's your own fault. The weak will fall. Take this and read it later when you have come to your senses."

Evirea looked up at Rigwyn, her brow furrowed, but she accepted the letter. With a jerk of her chin, she said simply, "Get some ointment for those rope burns."

Rigwyn nodded, then slid off the bed and onto his feet. With each step he winced as the burning pain returned.

Evirea watched the Diaboli go. She looked down and read the note quietly, smiling gently to herself. She pocketed it and closed her eyes. "You may just get the chance," she whispered beneath her breath, and then took her leave.

[SAristo]

[Aw, are you getting all soft on us, Rig? In the update on my side, Stellan, tail between legs, reconciled with Aschatan after a spectacularly bad day - ever had a hangover, pissed a grandmaster off, lost two diamonds, received a death threat presumably from a Perma-Death Killer AND had your guildhouse looted and redecorated in blue splotches? (Thanks, Rizula  ) Watched over by Monala, he was in a restless comatose state for days after the lifting of the curse. These are the visions that flooded his mind as Fogil brought him back to consciousness with three concentrated blasts of Crystal Way magic.]

He's floating far above them, in a pool of blinding light. He calls to them, but no sound leaves his lips. Aschatan, Monala and Karnath are almost equal distances apart in a triangular arrangement far below, surrounding someone in the center. Stellan recognizes that mustache - it's himself. Aschatan's research with rare herbs and the bloods of beasts has led to this - they're trying to lift the curse. It's like terrible torture, from his screams and contortions, and when they finish, Aschatan is slumped over and Stellan's body is lying facedown. A male voice cackles, "You are next. I am coming. You are next." As he watches, his body crumbles to dust, settling in the crevices of the floor like sand. His scream is inaudible.

There is another blinding flash and he is looking down on a small, candlelit space, as if stuck to the ceiling. He recognizes the furniture from a room upstairs in Kada-El's. When he sees the dreadlocks and the black skin of the man's bare back, Stellan knows what this is. His stomach lurches and he retches. He tries to turn away but he can't. He is forced to watch them, the Diaboli he hates and the Ynnwn woman he loves. Finished, the Diaboli flops down and rolls onto his back, a smile on -- wait! not -- not Rigwyn's face - oh joy! - it's his own!

A third flash of light, worse than the others. Maybe it's only the crystal sun, for he's outdoors now, soaring above an open road, much higher than drifters fly. He's free at last, himself at last! But thirsty, so thirsty. Remembering here a certain Pool of Stealth, he gladly wills himself lower and lower over the still shiny mirror of its surface. Too late he sees the procession of hooded figures carrying daggers, and jars overflowing with dark blood. And that's when, looking back at his reflection in the water, he realizes that the face grinning back up at him  - is Rigwyn's.

Stellan's eyelids fly wide open.

[Rigwyn]

[ Soft.. pfft.. I'll give ya soft!     ]

[Rigwyn]

Insomnia

As Rigwyn laid in a room at Kada El's with the door locked tight and lamps blown out, his mind began to drift. Two series of images frequented the theater of his mind - haunting him as if he had something dire to remember, but there was nothing significant about them. He thought it odd. The first was was that of a job the he had done cycles ago. The Dark Empire had lost its dominance. It was no longer the force it had once been, though a list of members had remained. On that list was a price for each of their heads, and a bonus for each Dark Empire badge looted and returned to the family. He had never dealt with the Imperials before, and when he had inquired about them, his his sources warned him, "Don't ask. The less you know, the better." How bad could they really be? After all, he was an Outlaw - he had the protection of the family... so he thought. Taking a name from the list, he looked all over Hydlaa for the Dermorian but he was nowhere to be found. Giving up for the moment, he retired to Kada El's for a good stiff drink. A tall figure in plate armor with a proud Dark Empire badge stood at the bar and conversed with a fenki - apparently a new member of their group. "How convenient", he thought, and sure enough, a Dermorian elf introduced himself to her by name! He turned, then looked at his drawing, then back at the elf. With a smirk, he finished his drink and left.... then eventually followed him outside the north gate with his concealed swords aching for elven blood.

As quickly as that thought came, it left and was chased by another. He saw in his mind, the cultist in red Laanx-like garb - gliding though the temple like the stink on dung. He couldn't help recalling the conversation they had, his written instructions for presenting the Starphires to symbolize an offering of pain and suffering. There was something about him that stuck; there was something about his voice that irked him, but he didn't know what. The image continued to haunt him like barking dog that wouldn't shut up.

The bright red cape flashed in his head, the gold and emerald serpent-like twist, the thick, golden ring on his finger. No matter how many times he played back the encounter in his head, he could not connect the dots. It made no sense. Were the two scenes related? Surely not... or were they?
 
Sprawled atop the bed with just a smattering of tainted light breaking in through the windows, his body continued to burn from his treatment - keeping him painfully awake for the remainder of the night. Evirea's words found their way in and out of his head from time to time - twisting and snagging - conflicting with his beliefs, challenging his assumptions and conclusions on justice, survival, revenge, and entitlement.
 

[Rigwyn]

In the days to follow, Rigwyn laid low and hid in safety of the alleyways. Stripped of his most precious glyphs, staffs and enchanted adornments, his power was greatly reduced, and his chances of regaining them were quite slim. The klyran woman who had peeled him like a grape was nowhere to be found despite having crept though most of Hydlaa. Needing a place to heal and recover, he sought refuge among fellow thieves and Outlaws. He went underground, so to speak.

While he nursed his wounds along with a few rather nasty resentments and gripes, Halisher Crox, the filthy Ylian rogue whom he had previously used to curse Stellan Aristo, was busy doing what he did best - mooching goods and handouts from anyone who crossed his path. The man was truly shameless, and blessed with the virtues of persistence and determination.

Shortly before the outbreak of the black plague, Izalox Vfel had relocated to Bronze Doors region where he continued his mission to educate those who would follow him in the ways of Laanx, the *old* ways, that is. News about the coming and passing of the plague had eventually reached him. It was disturbing, saddening, and  in his own words, "A gigantic step back", but nonetheless, another hurdle to contend with. Perhaps the plague was not intended to wipe out mankind; perhaps it was merely an omen of ... larger ...  things to come.


I'm going to close this story for now and call it a chapter; one of many more to come.
Thanks to all who played along and helped to make it happen. I Hope you all had fun!

Whisper Bless,
Rigwyn

[SAristo]

  Cheers, mate