Driven by the Past
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The lady speaks “Just keep Jerr away from me, or I swill I may kill him if he makes another stupid remark”
“What has he said?” Daniel replies in a simple small voice.
“He has a found another woman to his fancy…” states the lady once again.
“So it seems that is fate’s path for you.” says Daniel once more, in a simple voice. Yet that is not what he thinks…
…not in the least.
The seed was planted, as old thoughts and demons swelled back into the recesses of his heart and mind. For Daniel is two people; a mask placed atop a gruesome monster, painted upon the thin outer layer of a body that is the new host of a wretched rotting soul filled with loss.
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He saw him in the distance as he moved away. The bald man, the telltale marks of the Shaman of the tribes. He realized that in the wild fray there was no time to assure deaths, to check bodies. Likely many would be healed just from the brink of death.
He did not care.
Even then, they would live with the terror in their hearts. Night will fall, the darkness will come, and they will look over their shoulder with worried looks as the hairs on the nape of their neck rise just a tiny bit. The uncertainty, the fear…these are the things that bring loss.
And beyond that, he knew there were five, without a doubt. Five souls were sent to the beyond this day, a small start to the enormous debt yet to be paid by the native people of this land. Five of those whose blood carry the sins of their ancestors had suffered the final mortal loss, and that was enough to bring a cold thin smile to his weary aged face.
Let them fear the darkness…let those that got a brief glimpse into his dead black eyes know true terror…and if by some miracle they find it was truly him, let them come. Many more shall fall, and even if they should succeed, in his death…death for the revenge of the loss he returned to them…they would serve Her.
In the end, All serve Her.
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He gathers them. She comes along, intrigued and yet unsure…always watching, curious, simply waiting for the event that will push her back to where she is meant to be. The other joins him by his side; Nessa, his left hand as Belloc is his right. She knows she does not have to join in this, neither do, but the aura about him…the purple glow to the vacant black eyes entice the deeper parts of their hearts. Nessa feels the electricity in the air…Loss is to be had tonight, and she would not be left to her own.
He travels south. He knows not if they are there through his eyes, but his black heart tells him the truth of it. He feels the Lady’s hand guiding him. Down along the Nars that once held his family…the bloodline of the body that was left to wither and rot. Through the plains south of Jiyyd he moved, club at the ready, unconsciously removing those that came in his way. His mind was not on them, his mind was focused upon one single act.
Into the clearing he moved. A man saw him, questioning eyes took him in. Corde would give him no reprieve, no time to think. The club rained down, the first spike taking his eye, the next piecing the brain. A moment later darkness was up around them, filling the area. This would be his fight, and it would be faught on Her terms.
It waged on for just over two minutes, yet to him it felt an instant and an eternity at once. Time had no meaning…there was only the darkness, the death, the loss, and the thoughts of his mother’s clawing body and the pink ribbon laid upon the blood-stained snow. Spells of Divine vengeance rained down, stunning onlookers to the darkness while his club impaled itself into bodies. He only peripherally heard Nessa to his side, and the split moment he took to take it into consideration an axe cut deep within his breast plate. With a cry of agony and anger, dark and low, he set forth negative energy in a violent burst…searing the skin off three of the nearest barbarians. He grabbed one, his eyes seeing through the darkness thanks to Her gifts, and felt the warriors chest under his gauntlet. He called upon her, for one final kill…the most pleasing of them all. In an instant the mans breath stopped, his eyes went white as all form of life escaped him in one subtle breath.
It was then the Darkness finally ended. Confusion rang out through the encampment. It was a quick strike, done in surprise, but surely their reinforcements would be coming.
”Leave” is all he says, the potion coming to his hand in an instant, and an instant later his body gone from sight.
-
-Hours later, deep beneath the surface of the land of Toril, hidden within the caverns of the dark city of Oscura, the cold dark eyes of a man looks out over a cliff in thought.-
She has suffered loss, again and again, yet still fights; Inexplicable, but not uncommon. Perhaps in time she shall see the truth, feel the darkness that swells within her and finally come to grasp and accept it, find strength within it. If not, so be it…in her own way, in the same way everyone does, she still gives her own little praises to the Lady each and every day. Still, her words bring back memories…
-He see’s his mother, yet he is no he who he is now…he was the man he was before, or more apt at this point, the boy. He looks through what feel like alien eyes, so foreign to him now, upon the sight before him. A mutilated body: ravaged, plundered, beat, and used. Her hand reaching for him, liquid running down it as she grasps him…he looks down, the crimson soaks into his clothes, taunting him as she pulls him close. A plea is made, “protect his…” He looks up, eyes wide, reliving the memories. A pink ribbon, her hair tie, just beyond the over turned picnic basket and his mothers Asp. His sister’s, but where is she. Eyes frantically look, searching. Drag marks, south, they must have……-
So long, my eyes have gone forth from the debt that is still owed and must be repaid. I have been Her hand, protected Her city and fulfilled Her desires and yet…I have not truly done as one of her faithful should. My own losses stand un-avenged, un-righted. So much have I lost sight of what brought to Her. The memories, they shall not leave…still more of the vermin that mark this land as their birth right bring more loss and suffering to others yet feeling none of their own. Not tonight, tonight the first copper of the platinum sized debt is collected from the hides of those whose blood share the sins of their predecessors. Tonight their souls shall be sacrifice to Her and She will be pleased, for the sinners of this world shall be sent forth as empty husks and shall know…in their finals breaths…that at the end, all fall to Her watchful Eyes. In the end, all feel the final sting of Loss.
