The Countenance of Lady Aspera Chillwind...
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Aspera looks across the portrait, offering a smile to the elven arists who stood at her side, quivering slightly.
"You have done well Loenal… "
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I seize the 50th post in the name of my Dark Mistress! For Shar!
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Daemons is it now? How strange this place Norwick is. So it is that the vermin swarmed from their hovels but days ago, so it is that a rot is at the heart of the people grows deep indeed.
I took Chaelvin to be a man of control, a man of power. A dangerous man. Yet as we sat, discussing the Gem of Life, his eyes turned to snow, gazing distantly at a perceived spectral foe. His staff, glowing with energies seemed to swell in my sight as he drew the forces of the weave to him. His aura is potent and his power compelling. Yet perhaps his mind is a weakness. For he screamed of daemons within the mind.
The daemonic. The Fell. The legions of the Nine Hells. The armies of the Abyss. Many are their names. Many are their energies and powers. Daemonology is a facet of the art which has long been distant from my hand. My essence seemed to recoil somewhat from the touch of such vile creatures. Yet, their powers cannot be ignored. Their might could be focussed closely unto the glory of my name. Fierthior he was once. An imp in my service. He was but a chittering evil. A minor beast. Once I heard a hypothesis upon the nature of the sorceror's familiar. The mage within suggested that these small creatures were a physical manifestation of the life force of the wizard, a signature of their being. I now understand that by this philosophy, the imp which came to me was but a sign of my nature - chaotic, unjustified, confused and enraged.
Yet what if I could draw upon one more powerful?
Mayhap the essence of the well would be enough, if the burst of wild magic was sufficient enough. To break the barriers between the planes. I do not know if I have the strength in me, yet bouyed upon the energies that the well could feed me, if I managed to protect myself and draw forth a surge and control it. It may well be possible to call up one of those daemons. My mistress of night… mayhap indeed she too could aid in this business. For a price. The blade is drawn black. In time, I will have to qench light with it. The energies of divine and arcane interwined may have the power to invoke its spirit. Though in doing so, I should be forced to find a fitting sacrifice in Her name.
Perhaps the word of this creature may help me to find the Gem of Life if I could bind it... I shall have to seek numerous texts upon this. Spellweaver for all of its glory will have them hidden deep in some inner sanctum. I will have to proceed calmly in this business, for if I was to be uncovered, it would be for the ill of all. For now, I will maintain by search for my Gem of Life in earnest. It is close, almost tangible and not quite unto me.
So I turn my eyes to texts and scrolls. So I look through eyes upon thousands of words, to see truth from fallacy. So I return to my books.
Aluve' malla ilharess
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((Man, I love reading this diary. Keep up the good…er, I mean evil... work. I have to admit, I really think Kara would be very much like Aspera if Kara had fallen to evil...
Was fun being a bitch... I think I'll have to make a new character...))
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Unto life's testament I stand, alone upon the last shore. Someone said that to me once. I forget who it was now. Though true I find it upon each examination of it. In the end, we all stand alone. No matter how close we hold others in life. In my delirium of rage and of pain, I lost sight of this. I thought for one horrible moment that Meril was my all in this life, and without it, there was little left for me. Perhaps this is true. Yet we must take life as we find it, and my road winds into the distance before me. I choose to follow it.
Though I must confess, I would that my tongue had not lashed out upon the eve of the time that my execution at the hands of the peasants seemed certain. For they have not forgotten my words. The Selunite knows of whom I hold close. The fool will fall to rot and ruin. Her light extinguished by my strong hand. So it is written, so let it be done.
Many are the things that unfold in this dank collection of hovels. For it was but yesterday that a host of those who walk in shadow approached. Ashan, the beast dressed in the petty countenance seeks me skills in discovering the validity of orbs of power. The banite seeks to bind them to his will and use them unto whatever depraved end his master would direct him unto. Petty things these disciples of the Dark Hand are. I could see his ignorance in his eyes, written clearly upon every movement of his crude features. This ox could not understand the subtleties of the manipulation of the weave. He will not be able to operate the orbs should they be of properties as he suggests.
The bard, my fateful fellow, Meril knows of such secrets according to the words of this pawn. Out of professional interest… I may question him upon these artefacts. As to my later use of the information however and whether I grant it to Ashan remains to be seen. Only once it is clear that I cannot gain it myself will I proceed in such a matter. It is the only logical course of action.
Moreover, it was the followers of this brusque behemoth which intruiged me. Many seemed but petty thugs, yet another walked beside him. One he introduced and Elendel. I do not walk these lands with my eye distant and my ear beset with silence. This was the drow that the barbarians in the town speak of in hushed whispers and silent terrors. More odd. Part of me, upon drawing close to this creature felt the revulsion that all of my kind would.... yet another. It cannot be said.
Nevertheless, the fact that this man exists was enough evidence for me. I cannot say what drove me, save for the savage joy of it. Upon the wings of darkness, I stole out to the camp of the elves to the south. With silvered tongue, I informed their leader of the' people' of Norwick's actions in allowing the drow to escape, suggesting that they are in league with such dark forces. Who can say what will transpire of it. Yet it satisfied my petty revenge.
And so it is that other enemies seek to close in. The foolish, doomed Silverstar sought to accuse me of tampering with the well. Cretin. She does not comprehend my scrying and took it for some sort of foul action upon my part. However, one cannot deny that some correlation did indeed occur between my subtle, delicate manipulation of the weave and a burst of increased magical disturbance. It remains to be seen, however, whether these are, as my research seems to suggest, random occurances, of whether my use of the weave, even slight, did cause such a reaction.
However, it seems that the elf Braeth, possessed with his belief in the 'greater good' seeks my end. He seems sadly misguided, in time he will make a move upon my life. Of that I am almost certain. We must simply hold ourselves close, and trust only in the mistress embrace that I be prepared when the day comes that I may strike out in turn.
Dark, night, hoplessness.
I arm myself with all. Now let them come.
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When kin I buy ye that drink, lass?
leers and grins
M
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_Underneath her normal journal is written this small verse intitled 'Praises unto Shar'…
I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hooves heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved let your eyes half close and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding thier tossing manes and their tumultous feet._
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A new page is taken in the journal. The hand is one of calm confidence and controlled action once more. Moreover, such are the flourishes upon some of the letters, one would almost think her quite happy.
Forgive me for I have sinned. It has been some time since my last confession.
Many have the days and weeks that I have walked apart. I split with all that I knew and loathed and hated and hurt beyond that which I have in my soul. Upon legs, never wearied by wood nor stone nor wind, I walked the lands in search of that which once I knew, and was clouded.
Yet to understand that place upon which I stand now, I must gaze back with distant eyes to the past that seems so ethereal now. I must see through eyes beset with clarity that which was, for good or for ill.
I could lie to myself. I could claim that when Meril cut with me, my heart was unchanged, unflinching. Yet it would only be a lie. I stood in my desolate weakness, the shards of my shattered heart burning in my chest. I stood and looked with eyes, clouded by a thousand mists of emotion.
No more.
Upon the silent field, where none walk, I delved into that which resides within, and struck. With all my energies, I mustered cyan strength, yet the creature would not fall, and in turn, my spirit was ripped in twain. Hightower. Long may his name be cursed in the annals of my houses. And so it was atop a pillar of flame that I fell into the land which has no name. And in that place, I lost myself that I may live once more in the light, where the trees and flowers grow.
It was, through these bleeding eyes, incarnadined by rage, that I finally saw that which was and that which is. Though a tongue controlled by the power of truth, I spat out all the venom that the asp and adder had driven through my chest. I saw finally that which was true: I saw that there was something which could not break with me. The touch of my Lady. The touch of Shar.
So it is that I walk eternally in her embrace. So it is that I will quench the light of the moon for her, if the needs be. So it is that I live again. The Silverstar will fall. The paladins in their radiant self satisfied glory will be bathed in the mistress' glory. They will feel the sting of the blade and the grim agony of their blood flowing from their shattered bodies. And the adder, in his fawning weakness will tell me what he knows. I am the Winter Rose, and no spring will dare melt my radiance. Nevermore.
And in her embrace, I bury all of my pain. For there is no need of it now. Hope is beyond and light gone. Yet the stars are now wanted now, put out every one. For in darkness I have found my peace. And in the bringing of it unto this world, I will find glory.
In the books and in the song of the weave, the Gem of Life becomes clearer to me. My hands reach out across the ethers and it falls into their grasp. I am close mistress of the dark. So close that I can almost taste it.
Fear me, for I am your apocalypse…
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Reviewed. XP Pending.
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_Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn,
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight,
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.Your mother land is always young,
Dew ever shining and twilight grey;
Though hope fall from you and love decay,
Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
For there is mystical brotherhood
Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
And river and stream work out their will;And Goddess stands winding her lonely horn,
And time and the world are ever in flight;
And love is less kind than the grey twilight,
And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn._
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Xp Given
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Reviewed. XP Pending.
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Shadows whispered into her mind… the echoes of combat, the sound of sword against shield, blades drawn and the tears of blood and agony staining the field. The yelling... nay... the howling... fires leaping up across her body. Lights flaring before guttering black once more. Hearts rending before falling still. The whore's lifeblood burning the land crimson.
Her hand touched the water of the well, skipping lightly across its surface as if taunting it to strike at her. To burn out whatever canker made her wretch and cry each and every morning. A drop of will, the very whisper of arcane wording dripped from her finger. The dagger was held but an inch from her heart, though she had not the stomach to drive it home.
The shadows began to whisper again... they said that they had something to claim from her. Something that they wanted and that she must acent to giving. A final wave of fear washed through her before the red clouds exploded from the surface of the water. Noxious, hideous, the cloud of pestilence filled her lungs and in her chest, she felt her heart explode. Perhaps this would be the end. Perhaps it would be right.
Images, the planes, the fires, the ice all hacking at her. Their bitter memory. Their painful scars. Shadow's embrace. Hearts beating still and filled with a warmth. Shar. She was all she had left. The adder would pay. She would see to it that he could not leave her. There would be a child, and it would be his and he could not leave her. He could not.
She had to do it. She had to show him. A scroll to dominate his mind was all that she needed. Her love would make them whole. He would be hers...
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No need to appologise - I love praise as I am of course, needy in that regard
If you really want to be a foe of Aspera, start worshiping Selune in a public manner… or be a friend of the paladins... or be a priest of Lathander ... or sleep with Meril cough oh wait... maybe not....
Now that would have been a shock!
Just hope they get round to xping me soon!
Thanks
Lady Aspera Chillwind
ArUlric
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I didn't want to spam your story thread but I just had to say this. I'm really impressed by the way you flesh out your character, in game and on this forum.
Because of our character's differences in beliefs and backround they will probably never meet in game but I'd like you to know I really enjoy watching you play and I truly like this story.
I don't plan on Gatsu ever really having a story line that would parallel yours but even if one day they do meet, even as enemies, know that I'll be look forward to it.Wykith
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This letter lies coiled, almost tauntingly upon Aspera's desk. About it, the guttering flame of a dying candle finally sputters and bathes the room in dark. The faint sound of tears on the wind is all that splits the cloying silence. Lying upon the bed, Aspera's beautiful eyes still water, the tears still falling as the rain does outside. Steady and inexorable. She rips herself from her bed with none of the assumed grace that she is known for, stumbling towards the window of her chamber. With a single motion, she thrusts open the bay windows of her room, the wind whipping about the room and soaking her in its watery tears.
Her robes flap in the ethereal breeze, soaked unto her skin and she could not bring herself to care any more. Forward she walked. Forwards onto the balcony. Oh how the stones loomed before her. Oh how she wished to dash her bloody corpse below and end it all. Oh how if she could. Mournful eyes gazed into the shadows, desparately trying to see light. Though no light came, and only a deep and dark desire burned in her chest.
Rage and woe all rotted into one, black core in her heart - a canker that could not be cut out. Desparately, she clutched the amulet he had once worn, as if trying to draw some part of him from it. Though no warmth came, only the chill wind that choked all love from her. Once more the feels erupt, once more her seated heart shudders, once more she sees that face which, even after it all, she could not bare to stop loving. As her soul rung in tortured anguish, she snatched up the letter from the table.
In hands that trembled with emotions still, she forced her gaze upon the words that her spat forth from her quill…
_…Unto the Bard Meril,
There are things that I would say and now will never say. There are thoughts that I would have shared and now shall they remain ever silent.
I would that I oculd hate you for what you have done, for you were my all bard. You were my only. The one you flee from me to has all, has love, has friend in this life. I had only you. And with such a wit that it stings me, with such malice that it cuts the stings that bind the music of my soul it hurts. My song is snuffed out.
I have only silence now.
My world grows dark and light grows harder to see. For you were my only light in this world. I thought that your pledge was unto eternity. I thought that the word of an elf would mean something. Though I see that you are correct. You are no elf.
I trust you will sing pretty songs of this in latter days. I trust that your heart and your loins will have joy of your new bride until the hand of time unerringly steps in to claim her feeble human frame. Though your heart may feel warmth. Mine knows only cold.
I would ask you why you did this. I would ask you why you lie though I wonder if the truth could pass your forked tongue o' Bard. I welcome death, though I only have started to live. Perhaps a dagger will be a welcome end to my eternal pain, for this I cannot weather for a score of human lifetimes. I bid you happiness, seize it for it is hard to hold on to. For they always leave.
I have not the strength in me.
For I have only silence now...._
Still the wind howls its weary saga outside. Aspera's ethereal robes blow about her, pale as a banshee and with its very contenance. Handling the letter with such care, she rolls it up again and with a burst of will, calls for her familiar. Aera smiles at her wanly, his small frame shuddering as he feels the palatable aura of pain that swims about her.
"Take this to the bard, and do not tarry…"
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::Sighs at his bard::
Well, another fine mess you've gotten us into, Meril.
Honestly, guys, I had no control over him. I was all for having Aspera and Meril settle down, start a family and live happily ever after, but no! Meril had to go and do something altogether different, didn't he?
I never planned for this to happen, actually…really, I didn't. I thought things would go a completely different way, but...that's the fun of this game, I suppose!
Dragar
Meril
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Ask Meril IC if you have the courage miss Diams, though I can assure you that you are the common beast in question
No chance of going good now… Meril has managed to drive even neutrality from her spirit - well done that bard!
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Eerr what?
Did I miss something?
::shrugs::
At least Aspera isn't turning goody I hate it when that happens :twisted:
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OOC on:
sniffs I kinda feel bad for Aspera. Especially since Kara was kinda in a similar frame of mind.
Of course, now we can blame the world's end on Meril.
