[RP] Brimstone and Fire

[Thidin]

It was dark. So very dark. Aluna has felt alone before, hell she barely knew what the felling of love actually was. Yet in this forsaken place, she felt hollow. She felt cold, emotionless. Even more true, she was in shock.

What did I do. I did what he asked. I tried this time. I.. I even did beyond what I was instructed. I thought he, actually cared. How did this all go wrong?

----------------------------------------DAYS EARLIER----------------------------------------

Aluna would never fully admit she hated the women. Never admit, though her actions surely showed her passionate hatred. Or at the very least that was what Aluna tried to convince herself.  One of the only things worse than hatred was jealousy. Aluna will never admit how jealous she was of Allena. She was jealous of how much Rigwyn liked her. How much Rigwyn wanted to teach her and use her. How much she distracted Rigwyn. She would never admit how jealous she was of Allena, for the cause was her relationship with Rigwyn.

It was not a jealousy formed by love. As said before, Aluna didn't really know what love was. This jealousy and rage was more formed on the ideal of possession. Throughout the years Aluna has had many owners, yet Rigwyn was the first to not treat her as a slave. The passing comments he has spoken to her, made her feel cared for and wanted. Whatever Rigwyn’s motives may be, she was now seeing him as something more than an owner. A title didn’t matter to her, all she knew if that she wasn’t about to give him up.

It was almost too perfect. There was Allena, sitting in the library busy with her work. Oh she was such a mess. Ink spots left on her face caused by her soaked fingers. Her hair looked as if she was constantly playing with it, frazzled and greasy. Dark bags were left under her eyes caused by the lack of sleep. Yet here was Aluna, well rested and ready to fight for her new possession.

Their common conversation ended with an agreement. Once Allena finished her errands, they were to talk out by the camp. Suspicion quickly arose from Aluna. A women she hated wanted to tell her about their work out by rogue camp? Though not even the suspicion could outweigh the emotions Aluna carried. Allena was too tired giving Aluna the upperhand.

Once at the camp, Allena seemed frantic to build a fire. Despite Aluna's resist to help, the women did a decent job. Perhaps the hated did come to talk about her work. Maybe her reasoning skill were only lacking with her fatigue. All for the better. They talked about meaningless things as Aluna watched the women give her secrets about the women's work. She smiled when she realized Allena’s weakness. Even though Allena claimed to worry about Aluna’s recent troubles due to her connection to Rigwyn, little did she know that Aluna’s only fear was losing Rigwyn’s trust.

Aluna head boiled as she thought about recent remarks she was told. “Aluna doesn’t matter to him. Allena is his new pet.” “I actually thought he might have cared about you, until he choose that other one.” Aluna looked down to the fire noticing something shining red. A few simple words was all Aluna needed to set her over the edge, “I know you want me to leave, but that is not going to happen."

The next few moments were caused in a blur. Her eyes glazed over with hate with a fire releasing from her soul. When she finally took a moment to examine what she had done, Allena was on the ground. The women looked shocked as her tea, the one she worked on for hours, lay split on the ground. The women’s arm, boiling and bruised from the impact from heated metal.

“Ever played with fire before?” Aluna spun the metal poker in her hands as it quickly cooled in the crisp air, “Rigwyn may play with his magic. Use his special tricks to try to cause fear, but I am observant. I know what can truly cause a person to weep.” Allena stood up to depart. By the looks of it, she was defeated. All that she was working for, destroyed in front of her eyes. The poor women didn’t seem to mind the impact from the burn, but when Aluna kicked her cooking pot over a look of shock overcame her face. “Yes. And know you know why I am so jealous of you... You know, between the two of you, I always wondered who it was that really owned the other." The statement left Aluna pleased, yet confused as the women walked away.

Jealous. She was jealous? What could have possibly have made her jealous? Is this what he wanted?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The event filled Aluna with a new sense of arrogance. She knew Rigwyn would be proud. Is this not what he wanted? To see her do something of worth? Why was it that now she was in the rotten realm. The hollowness of the walkways, the echos filling the rooms. Her actions were for him. She was trying to make him proud. Then why was he the one to send her here?

Aluna stood up for the first time since she arrived, her hands shaking as she clenched a book in her hands. A man stood over her, noticing the confusion upon her face. He was the first to explain what place she had arrived at. “You are in the darkest place in Yliakum. You have died.”

Aluna knew little of this place and surely she had no idea on how to return to the living. Worst of all, the last thing she remembers was his face.[/font][/size]

[Rigwyn]

It's Called Dark Way for a Reason...

Just before Aluna’s departure from the dome...

Rigwyn was no spy and Poisoned Blood seemed to be in need of a few. [ ooc hint ] The last time he had tried his hand at the art of eavesdropping, he was left with egg on his face and a few folks asking him what the hell he was doing. Those few folks were Stashka and Aleenae – he had made an offer to each of them previously for the removal of Sarras’s hand. Stashka’s offer initially included Aleeane’s hand as an alternative.

Creeping up the old, wooden steps that wrapped around the tavern, he could hear voices chatting, but he needed to get a bit closer as they were hard to make out. A creak in the steps was followed by a slight pause in the conversation. He waited with his head down and breath held until it resumed, then crept up and around the corner.

The sound of Aluna’s voice was now clear. There were one or two other voices that seemed familiar, but he had not heard them for long enough to be sure of who they were. One had an enkin dialect to it, the other klyran, quite possibly female or an effeminate male. -Could it have been the bar wench from the Stonehead? No... maybe?

Having heard the floor boards above creak and the klyran voice announce her need to depart, he quickly dashed down the stairs, causing them to crack and creak along the way. He swore as he bumped into the banister, then jogged down and crept out the back of the tavern. Wasting no time, he sought his next target to eavesdrop on.

At the end of the day, he returned to the camp and noticed Aluna was there once more - sitting by the fire with a long metal poker buried in the burning coals. This time, something had changed. She seemed unaffected by his attempt to startle her, and when they spoke, her demeanor seemed a bit cooler with a touch of calmness or possibly confidence.

With a teasing smile, she mentioned Allena as she toyed with the burning hot rod, and the fact that she had done something earlier that day. By the look on her face, it had to be something more than another catty exchange of words. She baited his curiosity like a predator waving a lure at its prey, and he took the bait - hook and all, but the hook had stabbed a spot that put him off guard.

This bad-ass bitch flaunted a smile that dripped with trouble and it only grew wider as her story progressed. As she toyed with the red hot poker, she mentioned the burn that she left upon Allena's tender green skin and the subsequent burns that followed as she asked for more. Indeed, she was a very strange girl.

But Aluna's rationale was suddenly made quite clear when she pointed out that pain was not Allena's weakness, but rather the destruction of her tedious work. It clearly burned far more than any fireplace implement or fist to the jaw. With a proud glimmer in her eyes, she spoke of Allena's herbal tea, and her reaction when it's container was smashed.

All of this talk was quite shocking and unlike the slave he thought he had known. Rigwyn had wondered if it was the glyph that he gave her, perhaps it was rubbing off on her. She was a bit cocky and even went as far as accusing him of being soft, or easy going. As insulting as is was and as off-putting as her behavior towards Allena was,  he was willing to let it slide – valuing her new found confidence and defiance ... though it was certainly not fitting for a slave to talk this way. Was she to be treated as a slave or a peer in the event that she should excel in the dark arts and become useful or talented?

The whole discussion had been quite surreal and left him not knowing how to react or feel. Wanting to get under her skin, he casually revealed through the course of conversation that he had been keeping tabs on her, but she seemed to see this act of harassment as some sort of longing or interest in her. There was no rage or resentment with which to strike her down, yet she was being annoying with all this defiant talk and her bit about him and Rodef being her toys. That last bit just didn’t sit right; perhaps it was time to let go and let her fly on her own, so to speak.

Feeding into her talk of how his recent lack of abuse had made him soft and thus weak, he pretended to submit to her schooling, standing with his head bowed slightly, and falsely admitting to caring about her. The lie was enough to make him gag, but it seemed to be earning some sympathy points so he persisted until the impulse to act upon the innermost promptings of his heart had come to fruition.

With a chain of muttered words, the sky grew as dark as pitch and the fire ceased to shine as shadows and blackened clouds formed and thickened around them. Aluna saw her fate and tried to get away, but he grabbed her fiercely and held her still, then tormented her with a spell of soul shaking fear.

She fell to the ground and he followed, guided by touch.  In the cover of darkness he felt around for a small wooden stool, raised it in his hand, and brought it down upon her head with a sickening crack and thump.  It only took one good, solid whack. Perhaps it was luck that it struck the head in such as way as to make her collapse. He waited for the spell to fade and daylight to return, then pinched her eyelid between his fingers and pulled the thin, slip of flesh from her eye so he could see underneath.

The black dot of her eye tightened. It was something that corpses definitely did not do, so she was clearly not yet dead. This was a good sign.

Grabbing her by her little ankles, he leaned forward and pulled her along the grassy field. Looking back, the camp had looked so much smaller, the chatter among the rogues, so much quieter. She would be brought to a much more remote place from which the world would look a bit different, one from which she would learn about the forces she would need to control.

With a great crackle and blaze of brilliant fire, her body was consumed in flames. She leaped and screamed as a great, red neoten raced towards her with its pincers stretched open and its mouth hole exposed. It mouthed and latched onto her foot as she tried to flee, then sucked her leg into its disgusting mouth -well past the knee. As the screams persisted, it’s stretched-out body suddenly condensed like an accordion, then stretched towards her once more and sucked her in with violent force.

He could hear something break beneath a blanket of flesh amid a litany of unanswered cries. Surely it must have hurt in the foulest of ways. The vile monster had manged to force her free leg to dislocate from the pelvis – allowing it more freedom to pivot and swing about as it fought to swallow her whole. It’s mouth was now around her waist and he free leg pressed up against her ribs. It was expanding its body once again in preparation to take another forceful gulp. Perhaps this time, it would do the entire camp and favor and engulf her screaming head.

[Ascomanni]

There were three things her parents had taught her that day they agreed to begin her training as an apothecary. The first was that an apothecary must never knowingly cause someone harm and that the patient’s health must always come first in everything they did. The second was that everything had it use and, when applied correctly, the effect can change the very outcome of events. A leg can be mended and saved, a scar might fade. A person can live or die.  The third was the true wonder of the plants that they worked with would, if treated with care, grow back and be able to be used again.

Allena found herself in one of her rooms she had created for herself reciting the oath her parents made her commit to memory before even picking her first plant. I must never hurt anyone. I must always help them. Everything has its place and use.  If I care for the plants, they will care for me and come back to help me once more. It was something she did often to relax and focus. It always helped, even as she was working had to simultaneously break all three Laws of Herbalism that were ingrained into her being. At this very moment she hoped that it would distract her from what else was going on inside her mind.

She was stretching herself very thin and she knew it. Every time she added a room, it thinned the walls of all the others. They seemed to be translucent now. Barely walls at all and in name only. This worried her. What would happen if she went too far? What would happen to her consciousness if her mental realm collapsed? Worse yet her mind was fuzzy from that horrible brew. She frantically forced herself from this line of thought and but this Allena in this room make to work reciting her oath and stepped away to focus on other more important matters of her many rooms.

Allena slipped inside another careful not to disturb herself. She merged with this consciousness and instantly knew what she had been working on here. This Allena was observing herself in the Waking Realm as she liked to call it. It was eerie to observe herself seemingly comatose on the floor of Jayoce’s library. Especially considering that she had just observed herself studying herself before merging with this mental form of her. The academic inside of her wanted to create another room to study her own reaction to this but she dare not. These walls were thin enough as it was.

Allena observed herself with an icy coldness; a coldness that searched for anything of use. He saw her muscles completely relaxed, her leg folded underneath her that must have been dramatically uncomfortable, a small half smile on her face, and her eyes open but glossy and white. There was only the smallest of outlines of her iris and pupil. She watched for a while and the only change was the line of drool coming from the corner of her mouth grew slightly. Maybe her unconsciousness in the Waking Realm was what was allowing her to expand her Mental Realm to such new heights. After all, she had never created six different rooms in her mind before. But then again, why she was on the floor in the first place had not left her mind intact either.

With that thought she slipped away again so see the other side of her handiwork. This was the crowning achievement and the real test of her mental fortitude. These were two adjoining rooms one with a window to see into the other. One that the other room had no idea existed. From here Allena could observe to true effects of the Blood Iris tea. She carefully merged with this consciousness and was struck by the fear of what she had been observing. She knew what she was observing was happening to her in some other part of her mind and that shook her to her core. It was all a hallucination of course brought on by the tea of her own making but it did not seem to help. If anything it made matters worse. Seeing this second hand seemed vile and wrong so she did what she promised herself she would not do when she managed to trap the hallucination inside the other room: she merged into that form of herself.

Allena was a small flowering tree with her buds not yet opened. The world before her was bleak and dark. The grass around her was brown and dying. The hills were cracked and broken. A dark wind buffeted her. The wind was thin and wispy around the edges but as the wind layered upon itself it became an opaque blackness that oozed across the land threatening to consume everything in its path. The black wind seeped around her and moved in a vortex around Allena’s buds. Above her was a small bird flying desperately with the wind. Allena could not tell if the bird was trying to escape the darkness or ride along with it but the darkness was enveloping it… slowly.

This hallucination was real to her mind. It felt as the Waking realm would and it felt wrond to step back away into her Mental Realm. She remembered all that was happening and still felt a lingering pain that the tree that was her felt. It was a deep emotional pain, a pain that still gave her pause. Slowly she came to realize what room she had stepped into. Allena was lying on the table in the tent again…

No. Not now. She longed for that memory again, but she could not afford that luxury right now. She had work to do. She slid away and entered a room that she had created a few days prior. It was a room that was steeped with anger and hatred. She watched over and over again as her pot of tea fell to the ground and saw each granule of pollen sprayed out on the ground.  She saw the first batch of the Blood Iris tea ruined. Allena saw Aluna with that smug look of victory on her face. She saw the warm glow of the poker in her hand.

Allena made herself stay and watch this and with each re-imagining it grew worse and worse. The pot tilted slower and slower. The water soaked into the ground with a hiss. Aluna began to laugh in triumph as she could only weep on the hands and knees. It no longer reflected reality, but it didn’t need to. It gave her drive. It gave her focus. Aluna didn’t know the Laws of Herbalism. Some habits die hard and the third law still lives with her. Allena had left more than enough pollen to make sure the Blood Iris would be able to germinate this season. This meant that there was more than enough for a second batch. Maybe The Blood Iris might falter this year, but Allena would not be stopped.  She returned to the observation of her body in the Waking Realm and thought to herself of the second law. Everything had its use, its purpose. Allena would find hers and she would not be stopped.

[Rigwyn]

[ Oh, this is good... ]

[Rigwyn]

The Proliferation of Magic, Dark and a Craving for Steak.

With the passage of days and the absence of Aluna, those blissful memories of her brutal exit from the living were losing their flavor – their ability to stimulate and arouse. Not so much as a grin was reaped from focusing on her flailing arms and her horrified screams. The memory was like old chewing gum – tough, flavorless and bound to be spit out and stepped on.

Would she learn?

He had given her all the tools that she needed in order to become a witch of the dark crystal. He gave her a book and quill with which to record her findings should she stumble upon the citadel library, a hands-on lesson in the casting of dark magic, a candle and three matches to provide light by which to read. He even gave her a small, iron ring with a fragment of the crystal below that she might recognize it should she see it. He would seek her out when word of her return to the dome had spread.

Having received a tip from an unscrupulous old dwarf who dealt in refurbished shields, he fled Hydlaa in search of a secret place where mages of dark, azure and red convened. This House of Spirit, as some had called it proved to be a place of great power. Under its spell, he toiled day and night, pouring lethal streams of magic from below into precious, glimmering stones.

Some had shattered into a mist of brilliant dust that glimmered like fire when touched by light, others hummed and glowed ever so darkly with a power so greedy and foul that when touched, they drained the flesh of its warmth and the body of its vigor – leaving the observer cold, weak and depressed.

In this place of profound magical concentration, only the ebb and flow of magic was felt and time itself seemed to be twisted and compressed. With the last of his crystals fully charged, he noticed a week’s worth of hair on his face and chin, the rumbling of his stomach, and ravenous craving for raw, bloody meat.

Hearing word of the Magecon convention, he returned to Hydlaa a new man, cleaned up, fed, and burning with a new level of power. Magic now flowed from his hands without effort and with grievous force. With it came a new hunger. That wicked portal from his dreams was calling once again, and he knew that the aide of one black witch would not suffice. Whatever was behind that darkened gate would need to be beaten and subdued should it chose to attack.

He watched as a Klyros who identified himself as Zerxxz gave a presentation on the dark way. The man was clearly aware of some of the higher level spells - confirming the presumption that he was a master. While the name was strangely familiar and for reasons that escaped him, he made a mental note of his name in hope that one day he might learn a bit more about him.

Shauni had approached while he watched the klyros leave the stage. He was all whispery and seemed to have something of importance to say, but thought of whispering back was just a bit too much. As they spoke, it became clear that his message was to be taken seriously and with discretion. With so many prying eyes and twitching ears, the crowded street was not the place.

Allena was once again in his sight and in passing, they briefly spoke. While just a mere herbalist, she had proven to be of great use. Her poultices and concoctions were strangely effective, and her timing was somewhat uncanny. He had previously returned her kindness with a glyph of death and a callous lesson on how to use it in hope that she might be charmed by the allure and pull of its magic. In parting, he left her with another tainted gift. It was a pair of leather gloves that he had made with his own hands from flesh torn from a Maulbernaut that he had felled, and enchanted with a pair of gemstones from his recent retreat.

But was she destined to hear the call and answer?

[Rigwyn]

Stars and Shadows

Once again, the foul stink of death and life thereafter was heavy, and the odd violet light of the realm revealed towering rows of shelves packed with leather bound books. The towers seemed to bend and reach over is if to pluck the unwitting fools who darted below with a tangle of shoo-ing arms and hands above their heads.

The sight was absolutely hysterical.

Rigwyn teared with unexplained laughter as he turned his head to view the spectacle from the corner of his eye. He then turned his head a bit further that he might see them disappear from the periphery of his vision. It was soon realized that if he twisted his head and contorted his body a bit more, he could “cut their heads and limbs off” with the edge of his vision. How bizarre, he thought, as he continued to laugh without restraint.

With no concern or recollection of how he had arrived there, he came upon a Nolthrir woman whom he had known from the dome. He tried not to laugh at her, but a little cackle slipped out and was followed by a landslide of smirks and giggles.

Allena was bundled up on the floor like a bundled package of hides. With her arms tied around her knees, feet tucked in and head down low, she muttered something to herself, something about helping, or not harming? It was hardly as entertaining as Rigwyn’s giddy anticipation of her head just popping off and rolling away as she spoke.

Their conversation was nothing short of bizarre and was steeped with irrational fears and confusion, though it all made logical sense, somehow. Like a pair of escaped mental patients - one old, and one young, they hid beneath the spiral stairs in the library as the evil shadows approached and stretched across the dusty floors and over the book shelves. When spotted, they swapped  identities – it was the perfect disguise!

With time came further confusion and a sense of weariness as the relaxing effect of the Blood Iris tea took effect. They split ways in the absence of cognizance like a blind stranger stumbling into a dark cellar without a cane or a clue as to where he was.

Had it not been for the poisoned dagger that had pierced his back the day before, Rigwyn might have recalled the stray bolt of dark magic that he had cast, the accidental felling of Allena in the alleyway, and the defiant elven woman who walked away with little more than a black eye, and a head full of majestic stars.

[ So much has happened.. I'm trying to catch up. As always, feel free to add in your own accounts and related perspectives. It's always nice to see parts of the story from another character's point of view - or the ways in which the story affected them. ]

[Rigwyn]

A Sage Appears.

Now alone in the bowels of the dead with a head full of majestic stars and fascinations of the mind, Rigwyn stumbled upon a tiny little pink bug.  He crouched down to look at it as the stone caverns about him warped and bent with the ebb and flow of time and the drifting streams of dark magic. It wafted though the drafty realm like the moth ball scented cold in an old, breezy home. The stone walls chattered about him without restraint as he focused his eyes upon the tiny little critter.  It had strange little eyes that slopped around in its head as if they were never meant to be there, and a number of scars on its face and shoulders.

Lowered to his hands and knees, he crouched closer – tilting his head and pointing his eye at it like a great microscope. He bobbed his head closer and father to focus his sight. With the bug almost stuck to his eyeball, he gasped at the sight, for it seemed that one leg was a bit shorter than the other. It was as if a little segment of its leg had been pinched by someone with very fine fingers, and snapped backwards against the joint to break the piece free. As he gazed in wonder, the bug spoke to him.

"Who are you?"

Without hesitation, Rigwyn replied, "I am Allena Dameran."

"What are you?"

"I am a flower."

Questioningly, the little bug replied. "You don't look like a flower?"

The stone walls laughed frightfully as rocks crumbled from the corners of their mouths, sending a tremble through Rigwyn, as the fear of a cave-in or stony collapse approached the spotlight of his mind. He quickly dismissed the fearful thought and returned to his conversation with the bug.

"I keep telling myself that. I don't have leaves or petals or stamens or anything. I don't even smell like a flower."

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Just chalk it up as a paradox."

Content with the little bug's conclusion, he asked, "Who are you?"

“I am the quicksilver.”

Rigwyn repeated with hypnotic fascination, “I am the quicksilver.”

“And now, my filthy humanoid friend, we shall breach the great portal!”

Shocked, he replied with a hint of amazement in his voice, "We shall breach the great portal!?”

The bug nodded confidently as it raised its little broken arm to the sway of its voice. “We shall breach the great portal and summon the daemon, and you shall poison the light.”

A sense of dread struck his heart. Time froze. Without thought, he stared as the feeling of dread transformed into a cocktail of wonder and fear. The stone walls bellowed with laughter as they chimed aloud, “We shall breach the great portal and summon a kikiri! And you shall poison the little bastard!”

He looked up at the thundering walls with disgust, then back down at the tiny little bug. With hesitation, he asked, “Will you show me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I AM you.”

With that, he scooped up the tiny pink bug in his hands, and hobbled off into the misty shadows – whispering carefully so as not to blow it way, and tilting his ear to his cupped hands to discern the voice of the bug from the cackling walls and whispering shadows that heckled him every step of the way.

[Rigwyn]

Playing With Fire

Surely, months must have passed as evidenced by the piles of peculiar books upon the floor, the chalky scratches and symbols, and cursed drawings upon the lips of the chattering stone walls. He was finishing his last book, and couldn't wait to put it down.

In the realm of the dead, time ticked ever so slow. Centuries passed in the equivalent of the Dome’s years or sometimes days. It was one of those things that could not be measured - as when one did, something always went wrong.

A dead child could live alone amid the putrid halls a for what felt like a hundred thousand years, while their parents mourned and searched the wilderness for a hint of of their remains. Such an age bound soul could never return and remain intact as the normalization of time upon their return, would render them elderly, if not ancient or just plain dusty.

So it is written in the citadel, the great realm is not like our world. The laws by which it abides are quite different and still unknown.  There are cities and planes within it’s shadows, beasts as flat as a razor and as fearsome as most the deranged and rabid  Maulberlords to ever roam. There are portals that come and go like the glimmer in a diamond, and others that seem to stay put as if nailed down by some mystical force or the deceptively merciful hand of Dakkru herself.

Rigwyn stopped reading the strange looking book bound in flesh, then clapped it shut with a puff of dust. He waited silently, trying his best to ignore the obnoxious skulls strewn about the floor. Oddly, the  absence of  mandibles did not inhibit them or skew their diction.

The pink bug perched itself upon the largest of the skulls, its color clashed oddly with the yellowish mustard-brown patina. Crossing its little legs, it stared at Rigwyn then said with a sultry little chime, “Now go out into the world and shine.”

He climbed up off the harsh stone upon which he sat, and shuffled though the realm – not quite remember from where had had come. His mind was numb from learning, his mouth aching with thirst and his stomach rumbling with hunger.

Finding himself in the citadel high above the old wooden shelves,  he knelt down and began his spell. Drawing the sigil of a daemon upon the old, cemented stones, he chanted its name a hundred times, writing over the sigil with ever darker lines.

The stone walls were relentless in their chattering and were now masking their voices to sound like those of Allena, Aluna, and at least two others. It was terribly distracting and somehow, impossible to dismiss, but he had learned a mental trick from the little pink bug, one for concentrating when the chattering would not cease.

Around the sigil, he placed his glyphs of brown and dark. It was a strange arrangement, one that he had never seen before.  He stood and moved two paces back – measuring his steps with the greatest of care. He raised his hands and closed his eyes as the marks upon the webbing of his hands began to glow.  Shouting at the top of his lungs, he commanded the daemon to come forth as a hateful vortex of magic dark and foul arose and dissolved into the air.

In the distance, monstrous screaming could be heard.

[Cwyn]

The last thing Cwyn remembered was doing what he did best: running. More specifically, running for his life from some cutthroat thug whose sole pleasure in life seemed to be the imminent slaughter of a poor, unlucky Dermorian.

When the fog in his mind cleared, Cwyn sat up and stared around. Rusted bridges, great spires, fantastic structures. For a moment, he hoped that perhaps his feet had carried him all the way to the Bronze Doors, where he’d passed out from exhaustion… But a sinking feeling told him that, once again, his luck had betrayed him.

Hearing voices, he crept towards the sound. There, on a narrow ledge, stood a great, strong-looking Diaboli, deep in conversation with Allena, a pretty Nolthrir that Cwyn had met previously in Hydlaa. (He had her marked up in his mind as ‘likely to succumb to roguish charm and susceptible to swindling out of food, drink and/or money.’)

The pair welcomed Cwyn and confirmed that he did find himself in the death realm. Mistaking their unintelligible (to Cwyn’s ears) conversation  as a plan to escape the death realm, he allowed himself to be drawn in, even though the Diaboli – introduced as Rigwyn – seemed intent on using Cwyn for a dangerous experiment of some sort.

Not realising that his better judgment had, in fact, taken the day off, the Dermorian weighed up the situation. If he ever met Allena again outside of this dank hole, she might still make good on her promise of a drink. More importantly, Cwyn’s still-boyish pride rankled at Rigwyn’s constant jibes. Some ancient, useless but not quite buried part of him made him determined to prove… something, even though he wasn’t sure what. Besides, he still had his quick tongue to keep him out of trouble, didn’t he?

But it failed him as well, and as the miserable and inevitable result, Cwyn quickly found himself in over his pointy ears in the kind of situation he was normally very good at avoiding. Dark, not-quite-abandoned buildings, talk of runes and glyphs, giant winged creatures that lurked in the dark…

Then fate struck. The Diaboli was wounded, and Cwyn, unthinkingly, reacted with a crystal spell he had ready. Later, he would curse himself for even keeping the crystal glyph – using it hurt, and it taunted him with its pure goodness.

The crystal spell burned and tore into the dark way mage’s flesh. Rigwyn bellowed – in pain, or rage, or both – Cwyn didn’t wait to find out. He did what he did best: he ran.

Dazed, confused and consumed with that old shameful fear that he thought he had killed and buried, he scampered out of the death realm. Dakkru must have smiled on him, because even with his mind frozen with the horror of what he had done and the power of the enemy he might have made, he found his way out.

Once outside, he wandered the Dome for as long he could. Slowly, fear faded into anger that he didn’t understand and didn’t try to. For a while, scrounging and looting to stay alive, he managed to avoid the inevitable: that sooner or later, all roads lead back to Hydlaa.

[Rigwyn]

[ Nice post, Cwyn More to come.. ]

[Rigwyn]

A Daemon Within

A day or so prior -possibly a few more...

From the depths of the death realm came a bellowing voice. It was loud, if not thunderous, and could be felt deep in the gut like a huge, spiked worm rooting its way back up the esophagus en route for the back of the throat or brain.

Pleased with the deadly and otherworldly sound of its voice, Rigwyn stood tall and commanded it to come forth as the walls whispered and conspired against him - chattering this time with a strange Ojavedan accent.

Nearby, Allena and Aluna stood – most likely alerted by the sound of his voice.  He looked at Allena as the wicked figure approached. From his lips came a several poorly formed words followed by a painful wail that brought him to his knees.

Rigwyn's flesh and armor were ablaze with fire and blackened smoke that rose to the ceiling. His skin bubbled and blistered painfully as a dark figured lifted its decrepit hand and hurled another blast of fire at him.  The second blast lit the library with a flickering golden hue as it shot between the book shelf and railing, and slammed into Rigwyn's chest.

Laying helplessly on the overpass that cut through the library, he pressed his arms to the ground and screamed for help, but the heat had overwhelmed him, and the last of the dark figure’s blasts of flame had rendered him dead. His body burned like a sack of oily swine and rags, then mysteriously faded away.

The dark figure leaped to the top of the book shelves and screamed at Aluna – commanding her to bow and worship him. His eyes burned like reddened coals and illuminated his blackened skin. When questioned, he claimed to be of Dakkru’s lot, a daemon summoned by a pathetic diaboli – an unwelcome alien to his home.

Refusing to bow her head, Aluna ran as another blast of wicked flame left his hand and struck the wall behind her. He continued to fire as she dodged and leaped across the railing, only to approach an all too familiar face - and at the worst possible time...

Marsuveus!

Now hearing Allena’s voice, the daemon turned and was struck. The spell that she had cast was dark, but nowhere near strong enough. With a bout of hateful laughter, the daemon vanished from sight as Esidora nonchalantly strolled in to see what all the ruckus was about.

The daemon had disappeared from sight... or so it seemed.

[ There is much more that happened here ..... oh, so much more ]

[Rigwyn]

Finding the Portal

Stumbling in a forgetful haze, Rigwyn stumbled into the citadel library once more. Before him, Allena stood and before long, the two had discussed what had transpired the day before. Like a drunkard unable to recall his blacked out escapades from the night before, Rigwyn was grateful for Allena’s account. He recalled bits and pieces of his attempt to summon, but little to nothing prior or thereafter.

He was determined to give it another shot. If what Allena had said was true, then there had to be a way to find where that daemon came from. Perhaps it was from the same place that he frequented in his dreams, the strange land within the death realm from which he and Evirea had fled.

They scoured whatever books they could find, flipping through each mold infested page, but nothing of great use could be found. A few smaller details did stand out. The mention of places within the shadows, cities and portals throughout the realm. It stood to reason that these places might share the power of the dark crystal. Perhaps there was a draft of power – much like the moth ball scented draft of a breezy old home. One that flowed across such portals, and through any cracks in the fabric of this great and terrible place.

But how does one trace such a draft if one even exists?

Allena replied, “Crystal way!” The idea was straightforward and certainly worth a try. Cast a brilliant spell of crystal way, then check to see if it ripples or tugs. See if it flickers at any point like a candle in the wind. But there was one small problem. It was a way that neither could or would cast.

[Rigwyn]

Breaching the Portal

Surely a hero of the light could cast such a spell? Or even a healer just might...

With that, they dashed though the from the citadel to a well known spot. A broken stone slab with a  ladder atop. Though rusted and stained over the centuries, it was firm and strong – bolted securely into the immovable, granite stone.

With a point, he instructed Allena to climb half way up as he dug through his old, brown cloth sack. From it, he withdrew a fist full of long, leather straps, and a whip with a small iron weight at the end of its fall. He tied her ankles to the old, rusty bars, and her wrist to the step closest to her hip as her injured arm lay carefully in a sling. As if the uncomfortable rig was not already unpleasant enough, he tied one more strap to the back of her hair, and knotted to the step just above.

It was cruel predicament of sorts which required her to stand and keep her balance with one hand so as not to fall forward. To do so would cause the strap knotted to her hair to pull painfully against her scalp, and her back to arch in the worst of ways.

She didn’t look all that bothered by her role in this trap.

With a cruel crack of his whip, he strapped her legs, hands, and feet – leaving deep, painful welts where the weighted fall had struck.  Swearing aloud, he whipped her again and again as her screams grew ever louder, and flooded the realm with her pain.

She would have been broken and left on the brink of death had it not been for the arrival of a Menki who took pity and tried to end her plight. But Rigwyn kept striking her, cracking that whip at her head and her arms, and basking in her suffering.

The menki prayed aloud – calling out in prayer for another to come to their aid. Was it – Jarrel? Or Tarrel?  Rigwyn didn’t care. Before long, another menki rushed up the stairs. With the heart of a knight or a warrior, he fought, then let out a brilliant crystal flare.

Struggling to keep hold on to the old metal rail, Rigwyn covered his eyes as the force of the menki’s fists and the thrust of his flare cause his hands to slip and his arms to flail. With a loud, fading scream, he fell to his death.

Now free of her captor, Allena was healed with a brilliant flash, but chose to remain in the realm despite the menki’s offer to lead her to safety. With that, he left.

But that was not the end, oh no....

Restored to life by the power of the crystal, Rigwyn returned to the spot from which he fell. There stood Allena, still marked and scuffed, but free from the straps that bound her. Their scam had failed, he wasn’t supposed to die. They were supposed to trick some crystal way schlub into casting a light that they might find a draft of magic dark, and portal leading some other way.

Standing there, at the spot where the menki cast his spell of light, they saw a ripple, ever so slight. A breach, a fissure in mid air, and slight draft of blackened might.  Reaching into it, his hand disappeared, and when he withdrew, it returned to sight.

They had found a fissure! But what was inside? Not wanting to risk sticking their heads in to peek, they tossed in a ruby and waited to hear what might be inside.  With a short pause, they could hear a slight  tick as it struck the hard ground below. They examined the rift some more – unsure about what might happen should they enter.

As they did, another fresh soul had arrived. He was an elven man of the dermorian kind, and curious about where he was and what they were doing. Putting on a polite guise, they entertained his questions, then asked and prodded him to stick his head inside.

With a makeshift rope of tied straps and a whip, the three ventured deep inside.

[ Annnd.. this is where Cwyn's post starts.. ]

[ Much thanks to Jarel, Tarel and Cwyndeth for joining in!
I may have mixed up the names Jarel and Tarel. If i did, lemme know and I'll correct it. ]

[Rigwyn]

Things That Lurk Within the Shadows.

Before them was a fissure in the space before their eyes. It was like a crack in reality that mysteriously lead somewhere else. To slip into the fissure was akin to a drawn character slipping into a slit in the page upon which she’s drawn.. only to find another entirely different page somewhere below.

The descent through the strange fissure that loomed in the air via makeshift rope was one that defied reality. Such things clearly did not exist in the dome, at least nobody of right mind has spoken of such things up above.

The dark in this place was quite strange, but soon thinned as their eyes adjusted to the dim light. The small ruby that they had tossed down now scratched beneath Rigwyn’s foot. Stretching behind, forward and beyond, a great road could be seen. Along the left and right sides, rows of enormous, towering buildings lined the street.  Their doors were gigantic – at least three times as high as one might expect.  They were made of thick, strong wood and banded with thick straps of black iron and fastened with huge, knobby nails.

Before them, one building stood, its door pushed inside. The entrance was black beyond black – hiding whatever might loom inside. As they stared into the blackened doorway, into the nothingness and the unknown that laid just beyond, the obscure doorway stared back with a frightening glare.

They proceeded with great caution, stepping in one at a time by the faintest light of Allena’s blue way spell, only to hear the door slam behind them, and to be hammered mercilessly with a clamoring din.  Belted and beaten, Rigwyn was thrown to the wall. Only to be dazzled by a brilliant crystal way spell that cut and seared like glass in a vortex of burning wind.

With  his howling, Cwyndeth stopped his healing spell and let Allena in. Though new to the art, her healing spell of dark did much to easy the damage done, though wasn't quite enough.

Confused now by the ferocious beast that lurked within and thrashed with fists like stone, they were forced to flee, but the door was shut and hidden from their view.  With the stamping of its feet, the beast had cast a spell unlike any they had known. An arc of argent flash released – blowing the door wide open, and transporting Rigwyn back through the rift through which they came.

The next day, Rigwyn awoke to the sound steel on steel, and the warm, gentle crackle of furnace and forge. Traumatized and without recollection of the darkened house and the beast within, he wandered without direction across the grass by Harnquist's shop only to be alarmed to the point of leaping by a playful voice.

“Rigwyn!”

[Ascomanni]

Allena was dazed and slowly worked her way to her feet. She placed a hand on the wall near her and looked up. There was Aluna standing before her in the mouth of the alley. She looked shaken, but relatively unhurt. This was good. Allena tried to gather her bearings; she had hit her head, this she remembered. There was something else. What was Aluna doing with that knife? Was she looking at her or beyond her? Suddenly it hit her. Rigwyn.

Allena was bringing a hand to her head when her entire world became pain. Something had struck her from behind. The stab of pleasure shuttered through her, but this was not like anything she had experienced before. Her muscles convulsed and the world around her dimmed as she fell forward. Allena looked upon Aluna and the world vanished wanting to plead for help but there wasn’t time. It was too late. Dakkru had claimed her.

Allena slipped back to the Waking Realm with a sigh. She was trying to make sense of everything that had happened the last few days. She felt so very lost and out of control. Allena, if she was honest with herself, never was in control since leaving her ancestral home, but she had weathered the storm…until now. Desperately she hopped that by if she walked through each of these events, she would find a way to right the ship.
 
Night had claimed Hydlaa long ago and even the late owls had long since retired. The air had a certain stillness to it that can only brought about by inactivity and silence. Allena now cut through this stillness as she strode toward the fountain in the plaza. She stopped just at the edge of the misting spray and focused on one of the two simple glyphs contained in the blue sack tucked away inside her belt. With a smile, Allena sent tiny ice crystals dancing into the air around her and spiraling into the night air.

The use of this glyph reminded her of its pair; the one that she never really thought as hers, but rather his. Did she really think his story around the glyph true? And is so, what did it mean that he had given it to her? Allena realized that she was still smiling like a Trepor with a truffle and gave a shake of her head. These questions were distractions. Maybe distractions he wanted to plant in her mind. She let her mind settle on the glyph once more and drifted into her Mental Realm.

Allena left Kada-El’s swiftly and smiled to the guards outside and feinted toward the steps. Instead of making her way to the plaza, she doubled back and made her way to the rear of the tavern by the use of the alleys and side streets. She looked around to verify that no one followed her and slinked into the sewers below.

She walked carefully in the darkness using her hand against the walls as a guide and if she was honest, support. Allena was shaking nervously. She had never done anything like this before. That is not to say she had not killed a fly biting at her neck, but that was a simple reaction. This was different, this was active. Quickly, she found her prey.

“No one will miss these vermin” She pleaded to herself, “If anything, thinning the numbers of these dieses carrying pest will be a serve.” Allena breathed deeply trying to steady herself. “What am I doing here?” she said to herself aloud. She was suddenly struck with the finality of her actions tonight. Once this was done, it could not be undone. There was no going back.

Allena steadied herself. She did as she was told and focused on her hatred. With a flicker, the magic of the glyph came alive. A dark aura surrounded her closed fist. Slowly she opened her hand and turned her palm to the overgrown rat of the sewer. Allena closed her eyes; she did not need to see what happened next. When she opened them again, the rat was on its side and convulsing. She watched as the twitching slowed and ceased. She smiled at her triumph and focused on the glyph once more. But this time she would watch.

Allena smirked at the memory. It seemed so long ago. Delving into the hidden power of the glyph seemed second nature to her now. She also looked at the girl from her memory as a child. She had learned a much stronger source of power then hatred.

Allena walked across the plaza and took a seat on the steps. It would be getting light soon and then her sanctuary would be broken. The plaza would fill with activity and the stillness would be no more. Allena frowned at the thought, but before she lost her peace, she would have one last moment to herself. Diliberatly she slipped her gloves off one finger at a time and gazed down and the back of her hand.