The New Journal of Drelan Ashire
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Silence and black…
Suddenly broken and slowly driven back, the astute ear hearing an ever so slight crackling of flame as a candle illuminated a figure slowly stepping through the darkness. The flickering dancing maiden of flame dancing in the reflections of his eyes. Step after step, each perfectly placed and perfectly in time as if a spirit roamed the shadow, a ferryman upon the water of the abyss.
It is strange how time passes just the same. Practically silent, relentless, nearly the same, and without notice. Leaving the past in its wake, heading towards the dark and unknown future, its present nothing but the movement in itself.
Briefly the carrier and time are as one. The future finally clear, no more holding onto the pass. He was no longer what he was. Stone had been weathered and washed into the valley. Fire now free from its stone prison often flowed, at first fierce then continuing down into the valley until it finally tired itself. What had thought to be immortal, and permanent, time had once again proven otherwise. Eventually forced its will.
The bank from which he left was no longer visible to the ferryman. All visions and truths now ghosts, slowly fading upon the water, lingering one last moment before disappearing into the mists. Where it had gone no one knew but it was not there. All the remaining doors once open to let one mend the past, time had now shut, for better or worse.
No longer visible were the walls impenetrable, no longer could the near dead left behind be saved, the tarnished gold shined, and the moon disappeared from sight. Only shadow, and light slowly dying.
Is it death? Is it birth? Something both yet neither? Is it good, evil, or merely something to haunt the background never noticed? All that is certain is its not the same.
The boat stops. Seemingly at land, yet there is none still only darkness. Its pilot unloads the boat white satin, blue ribbon, a red torch, a naked figure. The candle is dropped, and slowly it all catches flame. The ferryman disappears.
Time swirls, visions past. Being and form slowly rended from its bodies and then gone. An odd rain falls, seemingly of ash, the fire explodes then is no more. What remains?
The smell of smoke until its nothing but...
Silence and Black...
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_I spent my first real full day with Serenity perhaps ever. She's become one energy overflowing young adult. I swear she is so enthusiastic just to vent it so she doesn't blow up like a balloon and explode.
She seemed disappointed when she discovered I didn't swash buckle and go argh all day. Guess it would have made me at least as interesting as the bard if I had. Instead all I had to do is show her my stacks of papers, the parrot, and perhaps one day the big hat. I showed her the ship but like her mother she gets horribly sea sick so will probably never ride upon it. Over all profitable but boring. Perhaps its why Deacon slips up like he does, he's trying to make things more exciting without realizing it.
We also talked. Perhaps too much. But I cannot see putting my niece in harms way because of lack of knowledge. Perhaps she'll learn only through the hard lumps like I did, I hope not, but sometimes there's only one path. She also began to worry me with her choice of words and ideas. I do not yet know if it due to the illogic of youth or if she actually had a will to make them be. Idealistic but as often is the case, doomed to failure. I really will have to teach her some Lance board, let her see how to see ahead and work within a constraint instead of breaking it.
May the fires watch over her where I cannot, and the gods have mercy on whoever is in charge of keeping that firebrand out of trouble at a given time._
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"Bloody Deacon,
I know I've said it before but just how long can a man enjoy his "presents" from Amn. Cigars, women, card games, bah. I best be wrong his lack of foresight is giving me the hells of a headache. Why did I have to be the nice one that actually lead by example and earned honor and him the one with the threatening of killing and the boot. Every farking time, one of his misteps come up I feel like I have to quell the start of a mutiny. I really am a bad pirate, I think I'd give up on leadership if I had to act in such a way just to get my damned will upheld, crazy or not.
Fortunately a mutiny didn't happen, but the crew isn't fully happy with what came to light, so seems my disappearing to illness didn't bring the end of the world after all. Funny feeling that, the sadness to know your usually a meniscule little spec, and at the same time the happiness of knowing you've a lot more leeway to fark things up.
I visited the surface again recently, something I've not done in sometime. Amazing how much time one can lose. Lilin is married, and carrying another child. Whole towns of grown men and women lining up to sit in some strangers lap for the hope of some gift. I know the advice is usually given to lasses, but should you EVER really jump in a lap you don't know, even if you decide to act like a child? Then there was Ocean, thought she had finally chosen her way but I could have sworn I saw her propositioning that man in red. Wonder if it was because of his unlimited bag of goodies or it was merely a prank. Lass if she's ever been one thing its been unpredictable.
Beginning to see why I leave Oscura less and less. Ah well seems everyone wants a gift now too. Why didn't any of my advisors remind me? They know I've a lousy memory for dates and traditions overall. I gave a gift to Ragnhild, and the crew will be easy enough, but Serenity, Lilly? Bah makes my head hurt.
Well I best get to work on it, I'm not just going to give coin, afterall."
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Leader
–-----------------------------------_It has been sometime since I've written but what can I say things are busy. Slowly but surely I've started something that may just become a real fleet. My side of things go well, and while I find myself leading Deacon's projects more and more profits are soaring once again as well as influence.
My position just feels right.
I've taken to speaking with Natanya more and more. Who knew that it would be a blasted Tyrian after I saw what I did that I would butt heads with, spar with, and merely talk over a fire with a drink. How we've not slit each other's throats by now I don't know. We aren't exactly enemies but our conversations flow all over the place with no bounds bringing both understanding and anger in equal measure in its due time.
She's gotten where she can best me in a duel, usually froma few lucky strikes but bested all the same. My pride wants me to remove all the hindrances, show her exactly what a real fight would be like, but fortunately my other half is more humble. If she wants to use her god's power against me so be it, it's a good challenge and fitting of my old teachings. After all, was I not trained and molded under the idea that something would be there to do what is needed even if it was face the very gods themselves?
In any case. This paladin made me ask myself something I hadn't in sometime. Somehow we talked about leadership and I found myself dwelling on it. I've never thought myself a leader. Hells, I was the one that was always right but no one would listen to when I first came here. Always.. dreadfully right. Was a curse more than a gift really, and as the ages have passed I've merely gone the other way. Seldom right but everyone listens. Odd, that it was eventually proven record that eventually earned me ears, and now its not needed as long as I do not seriously fumble. Leadership is odd. But still I find my influence growing in and out of the sails and while I'm not yet fully sure if I should be doing more with this new found audience it both scares me and makes me proud. Proud because I am becomming something I never thought I could be, and scared because it still doesn't feel quite right.
I guess I should stop listening to the nagging voice in my head and focus more on the one that keeps setting me upright and politely calling me a daft idiot, that voice has seldom been wrong of late but old habbits are hard to break. But I will break it. Deacon always said he saw something in me, is about time I found out if the old man was right or not."_
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tries to nudge the old and possibly moldy journal back into life
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//ahh doh! didn't write that correctly.. Thousand apologies. Ah well standard disclaimer for those that don't know Dre's journal should not be trusted for accuracy or "truth" as its mainly his perception of events, though this one was just my error.
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((Lyte did die))
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After math
–---------------------------------------I sit by my ritual fires occaionally looking across the fields at all the dead. Its a miracle jiyyd even stands, but it seems the fight is finally over. We like everyone else took heavy losses. Grano and Grak are considered missing until I find them and I found another member lying on the floor of the healing wonders. Finnius says he hasn't answered the call but will try again. Legion took heavy losses as well. Even Grag fell, but Pete and Lyte seem to be walking at least. Still haven't seen Candy either. I hope she lives and Grag just put her on duty somewhere before he fell. Hopefully will know everyone's status in a few days, not returning to Peltarch until I do.
Rary actually had the gall to ask me if I was an Umberlite and lectured me on how faith is everything to him. As if the mere name of a god could determine someone's worth. If people are umberlite, banite, tyrian, tormite does it matter more than their actions? It just smelled of trying to pen our crew as evil again. We take heavy losses in Jiyyd for not a single coin of payment and we're still a blight. Bloody divine types. Of course the paladin of "good" that I fought beside that let people die for his own damned social status is still dandy, because he might be able to do more good later. Rary merely retorted that faith is "complicated". Priests and paladins never have been able to justify there selfish brethern or mistakes, its always some greater meaning you do not understand. Unless its a god they hate of course, then no matter what you do your scum. Still he cant' be all bad. The fates and gods gifted him with a blade worthy of my old order. I feel it is a good omen, but could be fate waiting to slap my reasoning in the face again. After all .. he did say he wouldn't kill wolf because he could be saved, despite him putting another one at risk. I wonder if it is because Wolf is a Mellikian despite him now being a demon controlled pawn. Does his faith before possession make all the people he burned with lightning or blade not worthy of fair punishment? If people begin to die, or did die and we do not know of it, how many other lives equal his? Must be that "faith" is a complicated matter again.
The citizenry are giong to have a hells of a time repairing the damage but hopefully with all the shared blood spillt, help will come from a far as it did to fight the undead.
Fires watch over the families of those that lost, and the souls that left this realm watching over them where the living cannot.
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Recovery
–----------------------------_Training has been slow. Do not find other crew on leave often and when I do tend to spend more time being the one in charge instead of enjoying the work. Still despite myself knowing that my body has not gotten stronger.. there seems to be more finesse in my sword arm and I've stood with those I admire on the battle field without falling. It is strange it has been so long since I recovered from the illness I forgot how to destroy great things while being weak. Garand would be laughing at me now if he could see me. He'd tell me a battle like anything thats not a matter of the heart is all in the mind, and as soon as you forget that you've lost.
Things have been stressful of late. One I never considered friend but did respect controlled by something that is not him. I at first sympathized with all those trying to help him but as he continues to escape and cause harm I cannot help but think we should strike him from life. Of course his fellow druids came and told me how the thing controlling him falling into the wrong hands would cause an apocolypse that would fark us all, but how many must risk death or be killed in order to prevent a probability? How does one decide how many other lives are worth saving a single? Things were so much more cut and dry in my lands. You do something wrong, your punished without question. There was no leniency. Exile, death, jailing, perpetual servitude all possibilities. In this land its always, but I know they wouldn't normally do this, or I've bribed the right people, or some other nonsense. What about the ones you do not know so well that you leave resigned to their fate?
Makes me wonder if I should just embrace the ways of this land. I've followed the rules of my exile for how long and watched those that did not follow thier punishments or avoided them gain great prestige. Perhaps my flaw was not in following the Lady of Lanceboard, but misunderstanding the rules under which I fought. Power in whatever form makes honor and history, nothing else.
Ah well little time to ponder this, or how in the world I became drunk with ahuge group of people and not remember it happening. Undead are comming, and if Yolande is going to be avenged now is the time to do it._
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Death
–-----------------------------------------I fell to the undead though Corana was able to call my soul back. I expected to find if what I thought I saw years ago was true or not, but it was no thtat enlightening. At least if it was I do not remember it being so.
Instead I woke up beside Locrian weak and shaking. He was soon called back as well. Seems Jiyyd withstood it somehow.. how I do not know but it did still stand.
Thought I could take some days to rest despite the chaos afoot but found the bloody womanizer trying to woe my sister. It was slick and romantic I give him that, but still cannot get his past out of my mind. I set some of his trail of flowers on fire and gave him the standard brotherly warning. He gave me the, oh if I ever hurt her I'll come to you rubbish. As if I've not heard that before.
Went to jiyyd and find out she may already be married to him. Bonded no less. About had a bloody heart attack. Whether its true or not I don't know. I don't think she'd wed without telling me, but she was always spontaneous for better or worse.
I hope the priestess comes soon, I need to train get this out of me.
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_Sister
–-----------------------------------------I do not know why I still worry of this, I said that if she ever regained her memories I would let her go and for her to be free. Still I find myself watching from afar and protecting her when she does not realize it despite her memories having returned. Well mostly. I will never figure out the fascination she has with womanizers. If there is one, she will find him and then be mesmerized by him. Then he'll do something, he'll deserve to get his arse kicked, and I won't for her sake. Is the one thing that makes being consumed not completely bleak I will not have to worry about anything anymore.
I should probably tell Captain what is happening so he can prepare. Yes will require a change in plans, best he know sooner than later. The lass too, that will be interesting. I know how such things have gone in the past and it tempts me not to do it, but duty is sometimes more safe than experience._
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_The smell of burnt hair still refuses to leave. I had traveled south with Pete and my men expecting to fight the ghouls perhaps hundreds maybe thousands. We were so close to lay our trap to kill hundreds of them at once, but we ran into some, either retreating, or returning to their base. We would have been better off setting the trap, instead I listened to the rogues that wanted to find out what passed us just beyond our sight. Was Rary. He stopped to fight briefly, but he soon realized he was no match. The elf is smarter, smarter than any of the undead. He retreated, somehow his gods powers still lie with him though I do not know how he disapeared from sight. We lost him, and switched to generally pummeling the area. I saw the flames dance around his form as the bombardment came. Then I found out why he went towards Oscura…
The bombardment of flaming arrows came striking my crew and those that had joined us at the lines. I managed to deflect most then the fist came, and I knew who the ghouls had taken. I felt myself knocked to my knees. It had to be Tolin, he was the only mage I knew with the power and training to use such a spell. He used it on Captain often in his mock humiliating duels. As he walked around to gloat I could tell my suspicions were true despite the dark mask he wore. I wanted to rise.. just one hit .. would be all I'd need and he would walk no more, even if he lacked anything vital to still hit. I had no choice but to, otherwise my whole crew would probably die. But my limbs they wouldn't move. Felt just like in the past with the poision corsing through my veins, the world spun. Corana to my left suddenly froze turned to stone and Candy though I didn't see by what was knocked down on my right and close to death and bleeding on the snow. He walked over and wiggled his fingers and the pyre of flame rose from her body to the sky, I cursed his name and strove again to move but nothing happened. He tried to kill me with the worst of my memories.. I saw the ghost, recognized it before it entered me, had seen other mages do the same. Pity he did not know I've no memories that have not already haunted me for years to be contorted against me. I struggled to rise, the dwarf was soon learning that I was not the common warrior and I had to strike then but my head still spun from the bloody fist that had smacked me down. Again he cast a spell and it failed. He then finally figured out how to truly down me and I saw his visage change.. grow taller with blade in hand and I prepared for the blows, at least mentally. I felt the fire through my armor, almost as hot as when I was birthed the armor being pounded into my skin as I fell and blacked out. How in the hells did they get Tolin? Surely they ran into the same problems we did. What was his weakness?
Somehow I did not end up a ghoul. By who's grace I do not know. A small group evidentally had come up from the south and wisened up to the fighting and ran. They scraped us off the ground, raised the dead, unpetrified Corana. Tensions where high and Corana and one of the druids began fighitng, it did nothing but escalate. Hopefully its handled now. I will hold to my duty, but I have no wish to add more enemies at the moment.
All the crew are now well and nursing their wounds. Corana is angry more than anything, Candy too. She has never dealt well with such things. I am glad she lives but I knew that when she told me she would be back after "contemplation" I was not going to see her for a while. Probably lock herself away in some room for months with books that make even I go crosseyed and study and focus trying to make sure she does not fail again. I wish I could find her to convince her that sometimes loss comes no matter how hard you fight it, and sometimes you do not have time to prepare, but I would be a hypocrite. Even now every night I look over what notes I could gather from others and the now vague visages in my mind, trying to figure out how to crush the enemy. Getting your head beat in is not good for the memory. The ghouls only grow stronger, they have killed some of my closest friends, the bastards will learn the power of the flame. For once we may deal with an enemy where strategy will do no good, only raw.. brute.. unhindered destruction that continues all the way to its source._
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Descent
_Drelan saw the icy frost coat the undead as Fadia's scimitar ripped through it. One more dead, who knew how many more hundreds to go. They had already killed 63 from where they started their journey to where they now delved. He was impressed Fadia and Lilly were holding their own well, just not well enough and now was not the time for practice. Fadia had gone looking for Rary and Drelan and Lilly had tagged along. Drelan thought she would go someplace that Rary was last sighted, but no she had been certain that they would be elsewhere. So they had gone splunking in the caves surrounding ormpur, and they had found a nest of undead. Each time a horde jumped out of the nearby streams or cave pools they slaughtered it. Eventually they were forced to retreat but they had come right back to look some more. Drelan could remember Fadia saying, "but we aren't dead. See they do not really want to kill us. Rary must be controlling them. He wouldn't want to kill us." It was the first time Drelan wanted to choke her. When they had retreated they were about on their last legs, his sister needed help to get to Ormpur for stars sake. He wanted to scream, "PURPLE! you would be dead if Sis hadn't about killed herself saving your sorry arse! NOT EVERYTHING IS A SIGN! SOMETIMES YOU'RE JUST LUCKY AND YOU THANK THE BLOODY GODS THAT YOU'RE STILL ALIVE.". Of course thats what he wanted to say, wasn't what he did, and later would have wish he had. It wouldn't have worked, but it would have made him feel better.
So yes they were now plummteing yet again into the depths following some hidden tunnel they had found behind a waterfall. Drelan was doing his best to sight any traps, but he was no trapper and Lilly accidentally set off the one he did find. They had been lucky again, it wasn't one of the powerful ones the undead had used to keep Dwin, just a mere minor gas trap. Not having any trappers,clerics, or mages they had unfortunately been reduced to breakign down each door one at a time and slaughtering all that was within. Drelan knew it was a recipe for disaster. Sure mass rushes do work, when you have the number, not a mere three. He made himself heard several times but they didn't listen, not that they ever did. He laughed as he remembered someone asking him to lead a mercenary group. Lead? HA! Occaisionally he came up with something good but to get someone to follow it was completely different. He couldn't even convince one of his closest friends and sister to turn back. Of course he knew why they didn't. Lilly was there for Fadia, and Fadia was there for Rary. Somehow she had always seemed close to him. Drelan knew it was a grasp at desperation, and somehow he did not want to give her up as a friend by knocking her unconscious and dragging her out by her feet.
They finally came upon a door they heard a sound from. A scream of course and being the valliant heroes there to save the day they busted in slaughtering some ghoul barking orders to some undead ogres that were killing people as some sort of sport in a crude pen. The ghoul didn't even have time to finish his last order before they were upon him and the ogres were busting out of the pen's gate in an attempt to stop the attackers. The ogres fell but too late. All they found were dead.. and the human excrement from where they had evidentally been there for sometime. Drelan felt his stomach sink. If these prisoners were here, it meant there were others, and even if there weren't Lilly and Fadia would be sure of it and there was now no possibility of turning back. He could not knock both of them unconscious. As they went back into the hallway he muttered a prayer to the Lady praying that she would give him the insight needed to get the whole group out alive, as reason had long since died to determination for most of the party.
As they entered the other room they found two cells. Each with a commoner in it one male one female. Lilly tried to bash open the bars with her singing flail, the bars resonated and shook sounding like badly tuned forks but withstood the onslaught. They'd have to find the key if they wanted to free them. The prisoners were sweating badly and one woman had very long grey finger nails. Drelan knew the disease, and so did Fadia. Could they be saved? If the fates were willing. Lilly and Fadia talked to the prisoners, Drelan was mainly distracted in passing out water, when he heard the words he had been dreading. "Their boss has the key" The male prisoner said.
Drelan quickly called out, "boss? What was he? What does he look like?"
"He's a blue ogre of sorts."
The hairs on Drelans neck rose. Blue ogre?! That meant only one of two things, it was one of those blue brutes that tore into the most legendary of warriors, or it is one of those blue brutes with spells that tore through a small group of legendary warriors at once. He pulled Lilly and Fadia aside to tell them they had to leave, yes the people needed to be saved if possible, but them dying wasn't going to do any good. They needed more force. he was met with the single reply, "You can leave if you want."
Leave.. there was a good idea. He could hear a familiar voice lecturing him, "yes leave, let the idiots die while you live. You know what your old path brought you." But was he to leave his sister to die? and one of the few that had sheltered him when all had left him to die? Drelan sighed and followed them into the hallway, steeling himself for whatever horde they might find next. He had held out single handedly against small hordes, just maybe Tymora would smile upon him and he'd be able to hold the "boss" long enough for Fadia to use her magics upon it.
They came to a split, Drelan could see the end of either side. One had to lead to the "boss" if he was here as there were no more branches. Lest one was hidden behind one of the doors. They picked one randomly and he placed his ear to the door. He heard nothing. They decided to open the door,and find out what was behind it as was all that was left to do. The door opened then he saw it … a horde. At least three times larger than anything they had faced on this trip. could he shut the door maybe? Make it away?.. No no the rest would charge and.. hells the horde saw them. The next few seconds were that of a mass of undead flesh running like bats in flight towards the door. Drelan flung himself head long into undead trying to stop up the doorway but despite how fast he slashed, they found a way around him, and some broke through behind him and the two women charged into the main room. From there all chaos broke lose. Drelan as hard as he tried lost sight of the other two, and every where he turned there as just some undead trying to flatten his helm, or the sound of some ghoul trying to eat something and failing as it bit down on his armor. Then he saw it.. a different one. It was one of the ones they used for a messenger.. strong.. fast.. soon to be smited. His blade found home and it soon fell. He had finally felled enough to catch a glimpse of the room briefly, he saw the other two.. they were on their last legs and no doubt diseased albiet also surrounded with downed undead but Drelan knew they would not last long. He had tried to treat them all best he could, but his healing supplies had long run thin. He yelled and hoped they'd listen to him.
"RUN." Drelan turned, the doorway was behind him, all he had to do was run there. He felt himself hit something cold and almost spongy. Undead. He didn't even bother to try to buy enough time to kill it.. he simply shoved.. very very hard. He could hear some of Maythor's finely crafted plates squeak together as the undead finally gave way topping over only to be trampled by the weight of a man in full plate. Lilly and Fadia were close behind, being followed though. Drelan drank a potion and slammed one of the tag along undead into the walls. If he could just slow them enough to make it to the entrance, it would be enough. He then broke way and tried to catch up as more undead came pouring into the tunnel after them. The running felt like an eternity though it was only a minute or so, all lucky not to trip. They saw the entrance from whence they came and right as they came upon it, Fadia gave out a tired grunt and fell over.. dead.
Drelan cursed silently, so close and the gods couldn't even give them one more moment. He saw a ghoul leap for Lilly and how she somehow blocked it and slew it. Really quite amazing in itself considering how much like the fallen elf she looked. Drelan quickly forced the last of his herbal remedy past her lips. And she grabbed the fallen elf and hauled her out, yet another amazing feat given her state. Drelan looked behind them. No more undead.. at least for now. He stumbled out and helped his sister carry the elf to Ormpur. Lilly was still sweating profusely, the herbs seeming to have no effect. He frowned, he'd have to see what he could do once they reached the long abandoned Fuzzy Ale Inn._
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_Reunion
Over the past few days I have met several that I thought I would never see again. First was Fool, still his usual confusing, though humorous self, though a bit more agressive than usual. Seems he recieved his vision back though I'm not sure if I believe his tale, but can one ever be fully sure of truth with Fool? Then he gave me a muffin, that may or may not be enchanted. I was almost tempted to give it to Fine's boar to find out, but decided against it because I bought it for a gift to make up for the lack of a trip. Rather pitiful really, but all I had available. Seems my trip home will have to wait, violence has been occuring more and the crew needs me, and this is my home of present.
More strangely, I also had a reunion with my sister. She's younger than I now, though she remembers little. I am still not fully sure she is not a demon here to kill me. Why would she return? Supposedly I was lectured on happy she was in the afterlife. It makes little sense why she would return, and if I was right, would be beyond her power. I do not know why I still strain my head to understand the metaphysical. Come to think of it I should probably leave her to fend for herself, or perhaps mold her a new. Would be a way to free her of all the Sharessan influence, but alas I cannot bring my heart to do it. If she is my sister she deserves better, and if she's here to kill me at least its before Sharess can try to torture me again.
The ship calls, I have to make sure its ready for the morn, and seems I have a sister to check on in the morn. Hopefully I'll be able to walk the fine line between vigilance and duty._
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_Things are finally starting to look up. Contracts are rolling in again, coin flowing, fighting's improved even if the training has gone utterly to the sewers. Found myself shouting like the men in the last brawl. My teacher would be rolling over in his grave. I can almost hear his voice scream, "QUIET DOWN YOUNGBLOOD AND FOCUS! FIRE DOES NOT SPREAD RANDOMLY!" Ah well, I held my own beside Kara so I cannot complain too much just have to remember what I have been forgetting of late.
Captain even returned from his trip. Was nice to see him roaming the fest hall of nothing but mages and work the room though he had not an inclination what it all was about. Was like the days before he became so damned bitter. But he eventually returned to his mood of late, albeit not as bad, so perhaps is a sign of improvement. Still I cannot help but toy with the idea of slapping the hells out of him. If he would stop running, I think his mood would improve by far. Is becomming like everyone else. A time for everything, planned in advance and then it passes and you act because you're "supposed to". What is so wrong with drifting until things feel right? Enough planning has to be done on the batlle field, for crops, and stars know what other tedious acts no reason adding to it. I have to get his arse back on the ship, land just is not good for him._
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After some worn pages the journal seems to pick up again.
–-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_"Death, failure. Two now dead. One by choice the other taken by the damn ogre of the one that leads the undead. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't strong enough. The whole world seemed to reel in slow motion, all limbs ineffectual in a moment that seemed an eternity though was probably only a few minutes. I could see her stone form knocked down as Grag and I wailed on the creature, trying to distract it, trying to down it. So close, just one good strike into its neck and it would fall. It did, but not soon enough.
Desperately I tried to get her to let me help her prepare, to arise from whatever lybrinth she went to before, but she would or could not tell me much. Instead she seemed to just find me odd, was intrigued, and tapped my face and offered me an act, that is the most holy way to honor one. Though the act was never finished, my soul is brought honor by the thought, yet dishonor as I was not fast enough. The fight was not even ours, taken by chance upon the Norwick gates. She was there before I, and I can hear Corana's lecture now, but it was my duty to protect.
Three now to mourn and honor, the list always growing. How do I honor one I knew so little of personally? It seems every task could be either good or bad. Reason would say it does not matter, for she may not even be there to judge, but honor is given by respect not by force. Until enlightenment strikes me, I will watch over the flame mere steps from where she fell. Perhaps the smoke will find her and let her know the words that can become the basis of dishonor, yet far better than oblivion, "I'm trying"."_
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Lermonian blinked as the snow went up around him, and cursed as he saw a fist descending into his face. He felt his nose crack and down it came again and he blacked out as he was preparing to curse.
How long was he out? He didn't know just knew his nose throbbed badly as his eyes finally opened again. As his senses came back to him he realized the room while cold was much warmer than the place he had been, and he could swear it was moving though he didn't know if it was just his head. After a while he he finally realized the walls was made up of a series of curved planks. He was on a ship, and sitting in the corner watching him stoicly with a piercing blue gaze was Drelan, half of his face wrapped in bandages blood having soaked through onto them.
".. YOU TRAITOR!" Lermonian rose his hands as if to make the energies but those had long since been beat from his mind. Drelan merely shoved him down with a single hand. Drelan wasn't the strongest of warriors, but compared to one that spent all his time in books and diplomatic meetings was more than enough. Drelan then simply ran a single finger along his facial wounds as Lermonian looked up at him, and Lermonian finally fell silent.
"What.. happened to your face?" Lermonian squinting as if forgetting his throbbing his nose for a moment.
Drelan didn't answer he just sat down, and watched Lermonian in silence. Lermonian's head waivered and he just blinked confused. There is no telling how long the silence was but finally Drelan seemed to take pity on the young man and merely stated,
"Some things of the past were not meant to exist even in memory. You're on your ship it'll take you home. " Then Drelan went above deck and Lermonian could hear the thud of his boots growing more faint.
-
Drelan and Lermonian had walked for three days. At the end of each Lermonian would throw some rocks into a fire made from his supplies then the fire would be doused and he would use the rising smoke to try to divine where the man was he had brought with him to no avail. They finally gave up deciding that the man was either frozen to death or would be starving soon on the glacier. The ship wasn't much further. All they had to do is reach it, then take Lermonian to his ship and all would be well. Still was much walking to do and provided much time for the red chapped men to talk.
"A sailor now?" Lermonian grinned. "I knew you had problems riding horse, but hated it so much you chose the water instead?"
Drelan just shook his head. "I could tell you the story, but you'd never believe me. Hells know this isn't where I ever foresaw my place being. Take one woman as a charge on a favor for a friend, and later find yourself as leutenant a few years later. If its one thing my exile has done has made sure I don't understand where my arse is in relation to the ground."
"You would not be plagued with such a problem if you merely did as the priest instructed, they maintained for their power to interpret and control fate afterall."
"Aye and no one would have been alive to save your arse." Drelan smirked knowing his friend jested. "..Aye I thought it was all rubbish as well. But the more I live the more I'm beginning to wonder if that pain in the arse was a god in disguise."
"So besides things merely being odd, things are not well?"
"Aye.. About as far.. " Drelan stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Did you hear something?"
Lermonian followed his gaze. "No think the wind is playing upon your paranoi-" Drelans arm shot out and grabbed the mages shoulder and yanked hard causing Lermonian to fall behind him flat into the snow.
-
snort
Smell? Where?" It shoved its nose down into the hole sniffing. Fire.. old It moved lithely down into the hole and saw the fire that was now just ashe, not sensing anyone but indeed smelling a new smell. It smelled almost like cow dung, but at the same time was far more repulisve. The memory of being sent to hunt its prey came to mind though it didn't have the words to express it even in thought. Its heart began to beat faster its lungs sucking in the cold air at a faster rate. FIND PREY BLEED. It turned and ran back out of the cave at high speed its white hair bristling in the winds that ran along ths snow line.
It would run for days, in search of any sign of what it hunted. It had feasted on several horses before it had set out, it would not starve for sometime, and it wanted to taste what it hunted. It didnt' know how it would taste, but it just knew it would be the best thing its jaws had ever been around.
Two days later it finally found some foot prints near a rock that had not been covered over by the wind. Drool dripped from its mouth at just the sight. It wanted to create a noise, to let it know so that it would run, the kill being all more sweet. Something in the back of its mind told it that it should, YES A NOISE SCARY! . It threw its disfigured head back and threw its head to the sky trying best it could but all that came out was its normal growls. Its hair rose and it it jumped several times, its anger and anxiousness to much for it to contain. It would never understand why it could not make its noise, nor why its instinct was more correct than it would think, yet at the same time wrong. It finally couldn't contain it anymore the adrenaline was too much, indeed nearly everything seemed to create such a state in the creature and it quickly darted off following the tracks ot where it thought they would go its snout twitching furiously trying to catch any sent at all in the barren landscape.
-
Sometimes Paranoia is wrong…
Drelan just knew that the hunter would still be out there in the snow, and would return as it saw the smoke rising and knew its prey still lived. It may have very well been out there, but it didnt' seem to eager in comming if it was. Yes a strategy had been made on a given that was proven false, and it gave Drelan much time to think as the smell of the troll dung and Lermonian's blood wafted up to his nose.
He was sitting in cave, in a frozen landscape, getting ready to fight or hunt down some wretched Creature that could undoubtably rip him to shreds. Why? Well he would get Lermonian to the ship, for he had saved his life once, but why was he even thinking about looking for whatever person Lermonian brought with him? It wasn't his responsibility his family was safe, Lermonian had said so. Had he learned nothing? Drelan had in the end always tried to hold true to his word, help who he could. How many wounds had he recieved for others? How many times had he died for others? Fought for the same people that'd leave him to rot? How many times had he agreed to go in far over his head for those that he just considered not an enemy. And yet he makes one mistake two years ago and even some of those that know him closest suddenly thinks he's untrustworthy and only protecting his self interest if anything appears questionable? Of course what they said was his self interest defeated everything he had been trying so hard for two years to create. He could feel his hand clentch. He couldn't blame them the world was a harsh place and evidence was against him, but why was he always being denied the things everyone else seemed to have? Mainly the benefit of a doubt, the consideration of all of one's actions instead of one? Somehow it had become more important than his self honor.
He had tried being good, he had tried being under a code, each and everytime most of what he cared most about fell down around him to one single mistep that he could never seem to recover from. Sometimes with no mistep at all. How many gods despised him now? What would happen to him when he died? Live in peace, destroyed, tortured as minion?
But he had to admit, his outlook on life wasn't completely correct. When things did fall down there was always still a few that had done nothing to him and had cared for him as he recovered. Of course it was the opposite of who it was supposed to be usually. The darkness. All the things that were supposed to be evil and wrong were those that were still there. Was he fighting fate? Perhaps instead of being the everlasting guardian that sat on the mountain watching the town, he was supposed to be the destroyer. If its one thing he had learned that which was considered good could very well just be a snake in the grass, perhaps all was only a difference in perception and propaganda. He could hear Alia nursing him from one of his past drunken spells, "What do you want? You're always playing in someone else's games by their rules."
He wanted many things, but they could not be accomplished alone. He decided that perhaps it was time to start looking for a new ally. He took the symbol of the Red Knight on a metal medallion out of his pocket and rotated it in his hand, listening to the night outside and letting his thoughts roam.
