Welcome
Username or Email:

Password:




[ ]
[ ]
[ ]
Chatbox
You must be logged in to post comments on this site - please either log in or if you are not registered click here to signup


  • Shards
    Shards  2 months ago

    Happy New Year!

  • Edrick
    Edrick  2 months ago

    Happy New Year all!

  • EcoTec
    EcoTec  5 months ago

    You the man thanks mate

  • Cuchuwyn
    Cuchuwyn  5 months ago

    There it is!

  • Cuchuwyn
    Cuchuwyn  5 months ago

    -Clickedy-

  • EcoTec
    EcoTec  5 months ago

    Anyone have the thain discord link, thankyou

  • Payne
    Payne  5 months ago

    Edrick... mad

  • Edrick
    Edrick  5 months ago

    Payne

  • !ofAkindGuy2000
    !ofAkindGuy2000  5 months ago

    Thanks.

  • Glognar
    Glognar  5 months ago

    There is! You need to examine the omnidye to find the info. I also think that there is still an error though in one of the numbers.


Forums
The Island of Thain :: Forums :: In Character Discussion
« Previous topic | Next topic »   

The Evil That Men Do (iv)

1 2 
LAN_402 LAN_403
Ogreman007
9:21:14 pm GMT 08/01/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
Prologue:

A small crowd gathers at Websters Landing, around a curled, robed figure, sopping wet
and drenched with the stench of the sea. His body is covered awkwardly in a common robe - he
is not wearing it for sure. It has been draped with care over his unmoving position, as if
as a blanket to keep a babe warm. Yet warmth is of no concern to the figure, for his soul
has departed from his earthly form and his body now lies broken...


"DMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmm"
A heavy oaken door is thrown open, the inner side cracking against the stone wall
with thunderous ferocity: the great noise echoing for an eternity down empty halls.
Dust flitters down from the wall's arches like filthy snow. Like the dead skin of a home.
A figure stands in the doorway and waits... and waits.
No sound responds to the door's bellowing cry.
All that returns is a warm gust of fragranced air.

<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
.
The crowd begins to whisper as to who the boy might be. He is young, no doubt,
likely not past sixteen. Lean and small of build. Supple, bronze hair clings to his
lifeless features, like ivy on the face of a building. It is not kept well, and neither
are the small tufts of facial hair - patchy and sporadic. A guard approaches,
the crowd parts, and he begins his preliminary search of clues to the body's identity.
A storm rumbles far to the north, too far to see, but already the wind cuts
through the air, through cloth and flesh, chilling to the bone.

Outside a deep rumble erupts, loud enough to challenge the door which split
silence moments ago. The figure savours the moment. Or perhaps is terrified by it.
Too long does he wait, uncomfortable. The longer he waits, the harder it is to take
the first step, and yet already it is too hard to move. Until...
"Thud"
His walk is unnatural: pauses in between steps are too long. But as he continues
along the corridor he looks up, he looks down, to his perpheries, ahead and behind,
taking everything in. He has been here before, yet being here now is a difficult thing.
<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
.
Two more guards arrive on the scene. The first ushers people away,
trying to keep them from seeing the body. They knew their share of death, the
common folk. But this was no way for a young lad's last moments to be,
even if already dead. The third guard assists the first in checking the
body. They speak quietly and uncover the lad when the crowd is persuaded
to go. He is topless with two wounds readily visible. The first, in the abdomen,
is a large, penetrating hole - from a large blade no doubt. The skin is burned black
around the edge of the wound. The other is a red mark across the throat,
like a hand-print or a burn mark from a rope. One guard speaks:
"Murder..."

His pounding feet are like a pulse running through the floor of the corridor.
The cold stone though is as dead as the boy.
The figure recalls the moment of death for the greedy young runt.
"You know wot, I dunno if this is enuf..."
"What do you mean? It is the price we agreed, is it not?"
"It's wot we agreed yeah, but now I rekon I want more ya'see."
"No I don't see."
"Ah well, tha's too bad 'ser'. See, I can't gurantee I'ma keep my mouth shut, on just this"
... ... ...
"An' I might earn more in tellin' a few certain folks that yer back, seeing how ya
went to tha troubl-a keepin' it quiet.
"
The figure smiled sweetly.
"Then let me give you something which I'm sure will silence your shrewd-minded tongue."
The boy heard the sound of steel being drawn, saw a burning flame from the figure's waist,
noticed a flash of red at his left hand. In an instant the hand was clamped tight on his
throat and try as he did no sound escaped but a dull exhalation when the sword plunged into
his gut. Red light streamed into his throat to little effect as the lower strike killed quickly,
the flaming sword sheathed just as quick and the boy cast off the back of the ship,
as the docks grew tangible then...

Now... all that is tangible awaits from this moment on. The figure wonders...
wonders if punishment awaits. Punishment for going away..?
Excuses are ready, even if lies need to be told... should truth prove insufficient.

<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>

<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>

<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>

<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>

<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
Back to top
Ogreman007
9:02:21 pm GMT 08/19/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
Escaping Symbolism: A Journey to Freedom.

Nobody.

The thought surged through his mind like a hurricane. Why hadn't anyone come to see him yet? Not wizard nor warrior, not even slave. Time had passed though; things change; people change. He had changed, he knew. Could it be that this ambition had failed and no one inhabited the place any longer? He could not say but did not notice anything unusual on his passage to what was once his room. But then the place had always been filthy, cold, dank and down-right uninhabitable for all but the most rotten of creatures. For now his queries would wait, for it had been a long journey here and his body felt drained. Not tired in it's common meaning but some sensation akin to exhaustion that he could only partly detect. His bed was dusty, untouched, but the sheets felt inviting. For the first time in a long time he slept, still as the stone walls around him.

He hadn't dreamt in as long.


<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
.
Something about this room ... this place ... this island, perhaps, created such vividness in his subconcious imagination. Certainly having boarded in the room for the first time, his mind became awash with racing thoughts when ever he lay down his head to rest. He labelled the curse the cause for most of them, but not all were centered around that awful affair.

This is not real...

A dark room came to light, the source unseen but omnipresent as the pressing feeling that this world was not to be believed. Nothing there moved, nothing there lived. Stone entombed the place across the floor, along the walls, sprawling like a web across the ceiling. Even the pool of water sat grey and dead in the centre of the room: it could as easily have been sand, for all the good it would quench a thirst. On one wall though there appeared a protruding boulder, perhaps. Vision of the object heightened and within the world everything seemed to flow forwards until the wall came closer and into the eyes through which the dream unfolded more was revealed. Not a boulder but a raised area, some convex carving out of the wall. It stood featureless... unfinished? A tremble reverberated through the microcosm of the dream.


<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
.
Colour bled into the world, through unseen wounds in the dream; through the cracked mortar of the walls; welling up through floor and seeping out of the ceiling. Colour enough to bring a gentle glow to the stone, but yet stone remained.

Freedom is .. near...

A gentle tremor again rattled the place and with it dust particles dance over the top surfaces of the forgotten sculpture. Silence fell again only to be interrupted by a soft but certain sound: like eggshells cracking - like a creature hatching. Fissure lines appeared on the right hand of the creation, tiny black rivers in contrast to the pale grey, running together into confluences up towards the elbow. They seemed to wrap around the arm like a single thread running round and round the forearm, wrist, across the hand and to the tips of the fingers and thumb, clinging together by impossibly tiny bonds until - crunch - the open hand clenches tight into a fist. Lumps of shaped stone turn to dust in the hand, others fall to the ground and shatter into shapeless chippings. The arm wriggles, free from the elbow down, then rests still at the waist and a body within the sarcophagus of stone shudders.


<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>

Will I be free?
Back to top
Ogreman007
2:26:32 pm GMT 09/03/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
The Failure Looks Promising:

The small book remained within Dwent's room until he left. This, he decided to himself, cannot go out of his sight unless at the request of the wizards. He set about seeking some beer to relax his aching body. The battle through goblin hordes with Akil had been long and they were both exhausted, for certain. With glass in hand, he thought about what he had written. He felt a little stupid in doing it, but part of him believed it would help in weeks to come.


''I have taken it upon myslf to keep a brief log of my thoughts since my return to Thain. I had considered doing so before I left: a means of measuring decreases in my sanity, for such was my fear at the time. Now though I think such an exercise would be more suitable, to monitor the continued upholding of my sanity since coming to grips with controlling my curse.

I am still alive. It seems strange to write this, but I had feared by now I would not be. Not because of the curse, not directly anyway, but due to Paydon, who has since laid claim to Khazark Status. It was inevitable that he would rule as Khazark, and I am glad that he does now. It is more fitting that he is Khazark with Sar'rel recalled to Thay, or departed there voluntarily - the truth is not known to me. Now Khazark Paydon can take charge of this crippled Thayan resistance, and, I hope, keep it from death as he steered me from it in his decision to reinstate me into the ranks. I am still of use to him despite my unexplained absence - unexplained at the time anyway. He knows now my concerns, and perhaps appreciates the strong feelings I have in my loyalty and duty to him and all Thayans on the island.

Dominique is now his true apprentice ... she did not show it but I bet she was enjoying seeing me on my knees before the Khazark explaining myself. She is a good wizard but I can almost feel her contempt for me. The day she becomes a true red may be a difficult day for me. Time will tell.

I feel better now I am returned, and relieved that I am accepted once more. I have been given my duties and I will do all that is within my power to accomplish them. Speaking of power, the Khazark seemed to approve of my level of control over the curse. He does not know how it still tires me so when I unleash its strength, but at least the pain associated with it has dulled. Or perhaps I grow accustomed to what I know is burning within my flesh? The thought that he might want to enhance it fills me with both curiosity and yet dread. I can appreciate this power, but have tried this hard so far to control it. And, perhaps he jests but, should the blood surpass my humanity and forge wings on my back? The thought is unpalatable, to be 'impure' as Akil said and yet, am I not already impure?"


Back to top
Ogreman007
6:02:18 pm GMT 09/12/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
Arcane Arts for the Ill-Informed (V):

'I am still alive', the Colonel thought to himself, in agreement of what he had written a few days ago. He had not yet written a second chapter in his journal of sanity, but already he had been having ideas and considered things which some might dub 'insane'. Indeed the Colonel yet lived, but his current state was more than that. Not too long ago he had experimented with forces which he feared could have torn his mind apart, perhaps clean from his body. But the greater fear of inaction was what drove him to rashly perform the experiment in question. Now he lived and better yet, still with his own mind. Perhaps free of the "spirit posessing him" as he had not had anymore true nightmares. Dreams yes, but nightmares that left him in a cold sweat with his heart in his throat and his body trembling? No.

Now he wanted to push, what could be termed a success, further. More than freeing his mind - freeing his body. He had spoken to Paydon's second apprentice Akil, and to his own protégé Metuo, about what he saw as one of few viable steps. He had yet to mention it to the Khazark but he always seemed 'up for' experimenting on willing volunteers: perhaps enjoying it more when they were unwilling. But he had voiced an interest in finding a catalyst to the curse. Perhaps Dwent had inadvertantly found it.

Within the watch, Dwent put quill to parchment.


<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
Back to top
Ogreman007
6:34:04 pm GMT 09/12/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
Tentative Suggestions:


<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
.

Great Khazark.

I must meet with you to discuss something of great significance to me. I seek to change the way in which the curse which courses my veins affects me, by way of what I can only describe as "changing the curse" itself. I will explain more when we meet. I need you to evaluate what I say so it can either be acted upon, or dismissed as my lack of knowledge on such things. If you deem it the former then I cannot acheive success without your help.

The Colonel.

P.s. I sent your response to the whelp paladin. I have yet to discipline him though. Also, unable to find the brute you sent me for. I'll keep searching the shire.

Within twenty-four hours the letter is available for Paydon to review at his leisure.
Back to top
Ogreman007
8:06:18 pm GMT 09/20/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
Within the ruins of the old Enclave:

[ image disabled ]

[ image disabled ]

Outside the battle against the undead was waged until the sun shed light over the bleak and cursed land. The bodies almost seemed to disappear when the rays fell across the now-quiet road and grass swayed in a gentle breeze.
Looking North Dwent knew he would need to rally all the help he could get. Any confrontation with Azuul could end in disaster.
Back to top
Ogreman007
8:04:27 pm GMT 12/11/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
What I am:

A weathered looking book sat across from the Colonel: closed, face-up towards the cobwebbed ceiling. He enjoyed reading through this thing, something which had become close to being a 'bible' to the man, though there was no religious content written on the firm pages. Much of the book he knew word for word, and as he read down each entry he could probably manage just as well without the book before him. There was one page in particular though which he had long-comitted to memory, the paragraphs striking chords deep to his core, consolidating everything he'd known and helping to shape everything he would yet do...
Lately he'd had time to reflect on everything. Weeks had passed since his voicing a desire to visit the devil-lord Azuul, and still it was yet to be done. And yet, not all was as bad as he used to fear: he still had his mind, still had his body, and seemed to be making ground on controlling the powers of the curse. Or so he liked to try and believe. For all the progress he still couldn't escape the paranoia within it all: a fear that somehow whatever was "in him" might be "fooling" him in order for him to not take action against it. He had too much time to worry about this, he'd concluded.

His mind wandered in and out of the meaning of the words within the book, mixed around his self-reflections and what had been said recently.

'I {name} vow to uphold the laws of Thay, wherever unruly barbarians may seek to destroy them.'
That I know is true. For as long as I've served, I've been unwavering in my loyalties. And have defended those ideals. Strange then that it was -me- who pushed to not eradicate the orc threat as soon as it surfaced... if what the Khazark believes is true, he may have been right all along. He will enjoy me admitting that.

'I vow to Honour the vision of the Zulkirs; I will bear the symbols of Thay and show the world her supremacy.'
Defiance. We've lost almost everything and still we are defiant. Still we are proud. Still, we plan and collude, we scheme and make progress. Even while at our weakest, we continue to strive for supremacy. We gain new men, new apprentices, soldiers, allies. And it's not dented relations with those too greedy for their own good who aid us still. Defiance drives us.

'I vow to serve the will of the Red Wizards; I will follow their instructions to the letter for the greater good of Thay.'
For the greater good of Thay... I failed Lord Khalador, Metuo, and my reward was my curse. Things could have been different had I not succumbed to a lack of simple knowledge. But I cannot let it destroy me without it even doing anything. I cannot let my mind drive me insane, or I -will- become the liability I so fear, through my own doing. Already I've changed much because of this curse. Changing it again, or trying to change it, what will -that- result in? Only the demons themselves know... Damnit, Paydon was right again. I ... know what I am.

'I vow to Protect the people of the great Nation of Thay; may my sword kill her enemies, my shield protect her children, my life be given to ensure the survival of her chosen.'
And I know what I cannot let myself become. I -will not- let myself become a mindless demon of my own creation. But I can still grow to be a monster, more of a monster than I already am. Let the Khazark hear my admission. He has long-wished for a vessel to experiment with, other than his own of course...

I know what I am. I am a man, a warrior. Soldier of Thay, a tool in the belt of Red Wizards to use and utilise. I am the Colonel of our 'Shields'. I am expendable. I am a small part of the greater whole. My contribution aids 'her' greatness, but losing me won't be 'her' downfall. My life in 'her' name: my life belongs to the Red Wizards and in that pledge is the truth of my oath, the loyalty of my mind and the strength of my beliefs.
If this curse is ultimately my undoing, I won't die without using -all my power- to uphold my oath, including the powers it provides. The exhaustion is worth it if I can see my foes seared and engulfed in the demon's flame, or just the look on their faces. And -when- I die, be it at the hand of my enemies, or ... the mercy of my masters, I will regret nothing.



Aside from his anticipated gloating, Dwent believed the Khazark would be quite happy to hear what his Colonel had to say on his 'inner reflections'.
Back to top
Ogreman007
6:49:25 pm GMT 12/14/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
The Failure Looks Promising (II):

Entry ... two. I've not been using this book as I should have been. This journal. I've been keeping my thoughts to myself instead of putting them to paper. Until recently that is. I have spoken briefly to the Khazark about my new ... approach to my situation. He did not gloat half as much as I'd expected, though he did seem pleased I was beginning to see things his way. Time will tell where I wind up. His attention was drawn to quite serious matters which will affect us all. We are to discuss it all again soon, but in the mean time he has given everyone personal tasks to work on. I'll complete what I have to do, as well as those things I've tasked myself to attend.

I find myself sleeping easy of late, few dreams, fewer still nightmares. Just sound sleeping. I feel better for it, I know I look better for it, I am pleased. But I cannot escape a feeling inside, almost a pulling at my chest. It tries to bring me to... somewhere. I do not know where, but it is a familiar feeling, one which served to help me discover my powers in the past. I need to find out what it means and feel the sooner I can the better. I do not like these feelings, these urges going unanswered. Perhaps Jiv'undus can tell me what it means, perhaps he feels it too? I will need to find out.


The entry ends. Following on the next page is another entry, quickly written, the handwriting scruffier than before.

Entry three:I tried calling upon Jiv'undus today, to see if he could explain the feelings I've been getting. I feel I should know what it is, but I cannot yet determine the reason behind it. Anyway, that useless beast didn't even respond to my calls! It will know how angry I am when it -does- return! I have no idea why my attempts failed: that alone frustrates me. I've not spoken to anyone about the sensation yet, but if I don't get answers I will have no choice. I haven't given up on Jiv'undus, but it sees within my mind and might be less-inclined to show even now. Curse you Jiv'undus!

The entry ends. Following on the opposite page is another entry, a similar length but overall more neatly scribed.

Entry four: I dreamt last night of seeing myself in a place I did not know, at a time I could not tell, surrounded by scenery I did not recognise. It was dark, perhaps dawn perhaps dusk, and I was alone: energy flowing between my hands. I don't know what I was doing but I got closer to .. myself, damnit this is ridiculous. Scribbles scratch out the next few lines of expletives where the author curses the 'feminine attitude' of writing thoughts in a "journal": anyone reading wouldn't have seen the Colonel talking to himself as he tried to justify writing things down, for the good of his own sanity (nor appreciated the irony of that).
I dreamt I was casting a spell, perhaps, it must have been something I can do already or I can't replicate it. I was moving my arms, my hands. I called out but I don't know what I said. The earth next to me turned to flames and from it a tall beast began to rise. I woke then. During the dream I recognised no feelings but waking the pull within my chest feels stronger. Something about the dream must be the connection I need.

The entry ends. No pictures adorn the pages of the journal, but within Dwent's mind an image is easy to remember from his dream.


<div class='spacer'>[ image disabled ]</div>
Back to top
Ogreman007
12:07:10 am GMT 12/15/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
The Failure Looks Promising (III):

Entry Five.
I heard Jiv'undus today. He spoke to me, though would not show himself. I cursed him for not coming, for not listening to his master but he told me he could not come: he said that he was trapped in a form of prison, brought down upon him from an elf in blue robes. He was not specific but said they kept him within an induced state of paralyis so he could not respond physically to my calls. It all seems a little out of the blue, a little suspicious perhaps, but it's not a surprise that there are people wanting to get to me. It's a different path to take to get my attention, but it has worked. Jiv'undus said I need to follow the feeling between us, that it is the connection we share. This confirms my suspicions from the other day as I knew it felt familiar. I will go as soon as I am rested, to wherever the sensation draws me. The area might not be safe if Jiv'undus is right - there may be a trap, an ambush. But I cannot let such an affront go unpunished! I'll find this damned elf and I'll let Jiv'undus tear them limb from limb!


While speaking to the devil Jiv'undus, the Colonel had felt an unnerving cold chill through his body. It was not the normal feeling he experienced when communicating with the devil he commanded, but he put that down to the magic that was working upon Jiv'undus. Perhaps the elf kept the creature in a weakened state, poisoned maybe, in order to induce the paralysis? Could there be more than one elf? And if so, the "blue robes" were not lost on Dwent - this could well be a keeper? There were lots of questions which Dwent was determined to answer. As he closed his journal and left it locked within his room he set out, letting that inescapable feeling guide him across the island. Progress was slow but he would not force it: he could not confuse thought with feeling, lest he never find Jiv'undus again.

It took two days before he could feel a burning growing within his body. He put it down to some manner of torture on the devil Jiv'undus, or perhaps a sign that he drew closer?
Back to top
Ogreman007
11:04:29 am GMT 12/19/11
Ogreman007 'Lupi made me do it
Registered Member #175 Joined: 5:49:41 pm GMT 07/23/04
Posts: 4286
Arcane Arts for the Ill-Informed (VI):

His marching slowed as he approached a small clearing between a copse of trees. He'd passed this way a hundred times before, and more, yet now there was a distinct difference about the place. He edged towards the last tree on the row before a space easily wide-enough to pass through could be seen leading off the dirt-roads opposite. His breathing began to quicken with the release of adrenaline into his body, the tugging on his heart almost ripping it out of his chest from the strength of it now: this was the place. There was no doubt.
"Jiv'undus," he whispered to the trees, peering within. The opening was spotted with shadows and light as it moved forwards the forty or so paces into the clearing ahead. His mind began to work in its calculating way as he considered what might lie ahead.

He concluded that this was a trap, and knew that he was a fool for coming alone. But he believed that he had no choice but to do this alone: that this was his problem to solve. What sort of "mighty warrior" always went running to his powerful allies at the first sign of trouble?
"Not this one," he grunted with a stern look of determination. His mind then gave answer to its previous deduction: perhaps it wasn't a trap? Not yet anyway... no 'word' had been sent demanding he come to 'save his devil'. Perhaps they hadn't counted on the link between the minds of minion and master? They want the Colonel, sure, but not yet - not when they might not be ready.
He pushed off the tree he leant on, held his shield close to one side, his blade forwards and high to light his way through the wooded passage, and marched on unafraid to meet whoever was waiting for him ahead.



When he reached the periphery of the clearing the sky ahead was clear to see and, evidenced from stars beginning to become visible, it was obvious night would soon be fully upon the island. There was little evidence to show that anyone had been making camp here. He could see no ash-pits where an old fire might have been, no scoring of the ground where tent pegs could have been driven down, no patches of grass compression where bedrolls would have created shapes of depression. But then, he considered, if he were baiting a trap he'd not make it so obvious either. Key to his reason for coming however, there was also no sign of the devil. But then what was he expecting to see, the devil on its knees bound in heavy irons, a figure lording over it waiting defiantly? Something along those lines yes, this was so different it felt almost -

"You came!" A screech of elation pierced his thoughts and killed them dead, clearing his mind leaving nothing but the voice which spoke into it.
"Jiv'undus? Where are you?" Dwent hardly had time to speak before the devil's words tracked across his brain again.
"Hurry, the elf is gone, you must summon me! It will bring me from her prison!"
"How can you be sure it isn't here? Where -"
"There isn't time to explain!" a surge of violence filled the Jiv'undus' voice, and the cold chill from two days ago coursed over Dwent's body. "Please, the pain... please just do it!"
"I tried before and it didn't work. You didn't come. Why will it work now?"
"Because you are here, at the source of the prison... and I will help you, I will show you what to do."

Dwent lifted his hands and began concentrating on the focus he knew drew Jiv'undus into this world. He could feel his connection to the devil growing and a feeling of relief began to wash over him. The devil had sounded distinctly different within his head, not nearly as sub-servient as was its usual tone. There was no time to consider it now though as his body shuddered and he felt a pain at the back of his head.

"Jiv'undus, ugh,.. what are you doing?"
"I am helping you... Master... your focus alone isn't enough to save me. I am helping, I will show you."

Dwent held his arms up until they began to ache and a bead of sweat running over his forehead with growing irritation. He wanted to wipe it away and on trying suddenly realised he couldn't move his arms. They were still moving, but not of his own concious doing.

"Do not fight me, or you'll ruin everything!" The voice spoke harshly, reprimanding him for trying to interrupt what Jiv'undus was 'helping' him achieve.

The sweat rolled over his brow and then down into the corner of his eye. For such a tiny droplet it stung as badly as a bee's stinger and he closed and opened his eyes wanting the action to help clear the liquid away. The full force of his connection with Jiv'undus felt as if it was crammed into his head and he closed his eyes tight. His head lulled forwards and he withdrew a deep breath in effort to subside the tension inside his mind. He held the breath in for almost a minute, his eyes still closed until he began to hear words he did not recognise inside his head. The voice was the same as he'd been hearing all along and the same words repeated over and over. He didn't recognise the language, the meaning, but something made him fear the words and he knew he shouldn't speak them.

"Let me help you," the voice echoed over the wicked chant in his mind, cooly.

Dwent opened his eyes wide and exhaled sharply as if punched in the gut. He saw the world differently, colours had changed and shifted. This was the place from his dream, the place he did not know, the time he could not tell. Sparks of red danced between his fingertips and a lick of orange flame engulfed his eyes - there was only the dull burning feeling that he'd grown to accept from the day his curse had begun. He knew only what he remembered - a creature rising from fire - and he feared that it was not Jiv'undus.


[ image disabled ]
Back to top
1 2 

Moderator(s): TheSiteMaster, Kira, Wicked_Keen, Bonesly, jewwe, Warlord Kro, Corlupi, Cuchuwyn, Alanonas, Oberon, Forgiver

Go to:

Forum theme loosely based on Invision Power Board
Online
  • Guests: 33
  • Members: 0
  • Newest Member: Heisenbeast
  • Most ever online: 230
    Guests: 230, Members: 0 on Wednesday 11 January 2023 - 05:41:16
Now Playing
1. Malachi Valthorne
2. Dmitry Ahlefeldt
3. Seth von Hendricks
4. Elvalith Nain
Connect to us with 104.237.156.142 or thain.no-ip.org