Malachai's Search
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This thread is going to be for the stories of Malachai and his searchings.
((FYI I will be constantly revising all the posts as I re-read them. Nothing is perfect the first time around so I'll keep working till I get it right. Thanks for reading and feel free to post any comments.))
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Malachai was seen in Jiyyd, and he was looking to speak with Tala, leader of the Roms. None of the Gali around recognized this man, yet he did have his Gypsy's oath with it. Whether forged or true, they knew not… but only time would tell. He wished to see the Gypsy Camp, knowing full well of that destruction that had been caused there. Sy'wyn, Syrano, Vine, and Malachai set off to the Old Camp, ready for the challenges that laid before them. They travelled toward the middle of the camp, not one Gnoll in sight... then all at once, there they were, band of gnolls, and a Shaman with itchy fingers. Being blown to bits by a lighting bolt wasn't their agenda today.
The Gnolls were swiftly taken care of, and they decided it best to move on. Malachai has seen the destruction of the camp, but he would not be escorted into the gates just yet. On the trek back, what sounded like cracking of bones echoed through the trees... and when the group looked back... A spider remained, along with it's chittery sounds... dragging a Gnoll up a tree. The spider began to feed on the carcass for a few moments. After she had her way the Gnoll, she dropped the carcass to the ground with a bone crunching 'Thud'.
The Spider slowly descended the tree, and when it reached the bottom, it burrowed quietly in a small den, humming out a chittery snarl as it reached the bottom. A moment later the sounds of crunching bone and snapping limbs could again be heard, and the spider began to wrestle itself out of the den. What could be seen was a Spider's limbs crackling and shrinking as the torso and abdomen took a more humanoid form. The color of human skin began to appear, as proportioned limbs formed.
They were awestruck at this sight. Was this possible?
Was it a spider turning into a man? Or.... the other way around?
As the rest of them decided it best to leave... Malachai did not, turning back toward the camp. While parting ways, the sounds of bone crunching and crackling could again be heard.....
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A lonely figure shambles back inside the south gates of Norwick. Robes draped around his form and he moved with jerky, stiffened motions. Slowly he walked inside the gates as the cold night air cut through even the guards, who warmed themselves by the fire. The figure shivered and pulled the simple robes around him tightly and continued on his path. Each step coming with obvious effort if not pain. A look of confusion and bewilderment was etched upon his features as he lumbered into the darkness of the streets.
The guards just stared and watched for a long moment as if frozen themselves. Their hands still held over the fire but making no motion to rub them together in an effort to warm them. They simply watched as the man disappeared into the streets, walking with his jerky motions and relying heavily upon the spear he carried for support.
"Eh….did you just see that?" The one guard turns to the other after a long moment of silence.
"…..Aye, and did you hear that sound it made?"
Somewhere in the darkness of the streets, a low chittering hum can be heard…..
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**Misfortune
The morning greeted the cleric with a blast of wind that rolled through the Nars and over his frame. He shivered slightly and stirred from his sleep. The sun had not fully risen yet and the fire was not much more than a soft glow as he prepared his to offer a quick prayer to Lurue. He was up quickly afterword packing his gear away and strapping on the armor that he had worn for so many jouneys. The armor was actually easier to wear than pack so he often stayed in the metal plates.
The sun beat down on the young man as he made his way steadily southward. The glare from some old snow was more bothersome than anything he could imagine at the time. Often he found himself squinting or pulling the hood of his robe lower to shield his eyes. In the distance he found something that he had been looking for though. A small stream snaked it's way across the landscape and offered the priest a much deserved drink and rest. Only a short while longer and he was there.
The water was cool on his throat and he drank down several large gulps before washing his hands. The pack he had been carrying laid on a rock to his right as he dipped his hands into the cold water. The water splashed on his face several times refreshing his body and mind. It was a welcome break that was sorely needed.
Must be going to rain. He thought to himself as he opened his eyes to the shadow over his form. The pain rushed up his spine as if hot coals had been tossed on his bare back. His body streched out to embrace the cold water as it seemed to rush up to meet him. His mind raced trying to gather itself and pull together why he was face down in the frigid stream.
He stood quickly! The water dripping from the robe in steady streams and the cloth revealed the outline of the armor he wore beneath. His eyes blurred by the impact slowly regained focus and he looked upon a small man standing with a smirk painted across his face. The man's features were sharp and angular and his hair dark and slicked back. He tapped a nasty club in his left hand as he watched the young man regain his senses.
In the background stood two others, one a smaller figure. Not quite a hin, but a smaller human woman to be sure. Though her features were hidden under thick furs which hung over her shoulders and head as if she were a great animal spirit coming to greet him. She said nothing and moved very little, but her eyes glared at the young man.
Beside her stood a giant of a man. His boots nearly coming up past her knees in height. The armor he wore was ill kept and showed some signs of wear and tinges of rust dotted it's surface. It was clear that he had submerged it in a tub of salty water for some time or had been in possession of it for a very long time. From behind the man's head extended the pommel of a huge sword. One that clearly would take two hands to weild it if the blade were to match that hilt.
Was the man grinning or was he just staring? For a moment Malachai stood there as if he had seen a ghost. The lip curled up on his right side sliding up his face as if trying to escape. Not in a grin, smirk or even a smile. It was a deformity that the man had gotten long ago. The teeth were dirty and stained underneath his lips as if he had had drank too many ales and chewed on several rocks. It was the same face of the man which had passed him on the docks! The same one that clubbed him aside as he left the Ice Slicer. He was putting it together now.
Malachai's eyes darted to his pack which lay lifeless on the rock still. The mace still attached to the side and the spear laying gingerly beside the pack. He turned back to the man with the club to see him wading out into the frigid waters to finish his business. Malachai's arms went up in surrender as he would rather give up the meager gold pieces he held on his person rather than have to fight the trio. The odds were stacked against him and he was no betting man.
The club cut through the morning air like a honey bee darting from flower to flower. Swift it came in connecting with Malachai's exposed stomach. It clanked off the armor, but still doubled the priest over in pain. He held his stomach and felt his knees go weak. The small man stood back almost gloating over his appearant victory, but closed in to finish the job. Malachai saw his feet as he waded closer and as the man held the club up high the priest rose up quickly connecting the weasle of a man under the chin.
The armor under his robe tore a hole through the material as it dug into the man's chin sending him flying backwards. Is he dead? Malachai thought as he looked upon the now unmoving man. The pain of the two blows still fresh upon his body, but his concern turned toward the young man. He waded toward the man to see blood streaming from his mouth and under his chin. Malachai next did the only thing that he could think of.
Lady Lurue I ask you to seal this man's wounds so that he may walk another day! Malachai's harsh, raspy voice cut through the air as his hand touched the face of the downed bandit. He felt Lurue move through him then and felt the healing magics take hold of the unconscious man. Then he felt nothing.
He was disturbed from his forced slumber and moved slowly. He had been laying on the banks of the stream for some time now and his body was freezing cold. No longer did he wear the armor of his temple. His eyes strained to focus as he looked upon the face of an middle aged man.
Get up son. The voice rattled around inside Malachai's head like a pebble in an empty ale bottle.
You are gonna freeze out here. Slowly Malachai stood then on wobbly legs. Someone passing might believe it was the man's first steps as he moved slowly. It was coming back to him now. He had healed the man with the help of Lurue and someone had kicked him in the head. That lady in the furs! Oh his head hurt more, but he quickly looked around. His things! Where were they?
The pack was missing along with most the contents. The armor stripped from his frame and his spear taken. The book! It lay a few feet away and he half crawled, half walked to get to it. It would seem books hold little value with criminals. The amulet was missing though. The value was obvious to most who laid eyes on it and surely they were long gone by now. He cried out to Lurue for aid as he held onto his aching head. The swirl of thoughts seemed to clear up and he could finally think straight.
It was gone. All gone. All he had left was the journal and the diary of Justin Thenton, once head priest of the Order of the Unicorn. His destiny was not snagged from him yet, not all of it. The amulet had belonged to Mister Thenton as well and it's loss did not bode well with the priest.
The travelling merchant explained that he was on his way south through Norwick, stopping by to see a gnome friend of his. Malachai sat in the back of the wagon as it rattled across the frozen plains. What was he to do now. He had nothing but the book. The holy symbol was entrusted to him to keep. Now it was in the hands of scroundrels. All was not lost though.
He kept in prayer for the duration of the trip and was helped more by the man when he arrived as he was handed a few gold. Seems there are a few decent people in this land he thought. He was in Norwick now. Now his jouney finally began.**
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First Night in the Nars
The priest nodded slowly to one of the guards as he passed through the gates. Many stares fell his way from those on the tower waiting to be relieved from their nightly posts. Malachai did not even acknowledge their existance as he moved across the cobblestone outside the walls. He did pause a moment to check his pack. His hand dipped in to retrieve the small book again flipping through a few pages. One, of many, that were loose flutterd to the ground and he scrambled to recapture the parchment.
He held tight to the unicorn pendent around his neck for a moment then retrieved one from his pack that seemed to almost match, if it weren't for the second appeared to have more luster. It seemed to have a light of it's own as he held it up to give it a look over. One of the guards on the tower, ever watchful, caught a glimpse of the glimmer. Though too far away to determine what it was that caught his eye he knew it was valuable.
Malachai stepped foot off the cobblestone and into his destiny. He found the road had been well travelled and wheels from carts dug a few deep trenches into the frozen earth. He moved along at a good pace, stopping only for water and the occassional rock that lodged itself into his boots. The young man was in good shape and he made good time. The clanking of his armor beat like a steady drum as his brown eyes focused on a stray tree or rock that seemed to be lost.
He had followed the road for a good portion of the day and he noticed the sun's light began to fade and the shadows began to grow large. It was time he began to set up camp. Soon he would have to offer his prayers to Lurue and ask for her guidence. Prayers he had said a lot in the previous weeks. Ever since he left Arabel his prayers have come more frequently than ever before. Tonight would be no different.
The tent went up quickly with a practiced hand that had seen it's construction many times before. The wood for the fire gathered with ease and soon it's warm glow danced off the snow and wood crackled and popped sending embers to dance and burrow into the white blanket. Malachai cleared some of the snow from just outside the fire's light and began his evening prayers.
What was that? The thought ran through his mind as he prayed causing him to pause just a moment. Behind him he heard another snapping sound and he turned to take a glance. Nothing could be seen in the darkness though save for a few branches looming out to snag the unwary in. Must be a fox. he thought to himself and returned to his devotion. The holy symbol in his hands and his prayers coming out again though lower this time almost concious of the volume of his voice.
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((Arrival and First Steps edited a great deal.))
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Lurue
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First Steps
thud
The sound of his boots hitting the docks was reassuring to Malachai as he stepped off the ledge from Ice Slicer. Peltarch, he had finally arrived and he quickly concluded that it was much as he had expected. His hand dipped into his pack and retrieved a small book only to return it, as if he was looking for proof it still lived inside his pack. He started off then through the crowded dock.
Many bumping into the young man or just shoving him aside outright in their rush to get to and from the ship. Malachai never being the one to get overly impatient or upset took the bumps and nudges not caring. One in particular just grinned showing rotting teeth as he moved the young man aside with a clubbing arm. Or was that a scowl, either way the man seemed determined to reach the ship. Perhaps in a hurry to leave the city. Shouts rang out over the docks as the ships officers barked out commands to the crew and dock hands. He moved onward through the crowds of people.
The young man moved through the crowded morning streets of the city slowly making his way toward the markets. There he knew he would find the information and the supplies he needed. His eyes moved over the merchandise there, none but a few apples and some cooked meat caught his eye. Everything the man needed he carried with him usually. Rarely did he ever have to buy supplies other than food save for the time his rope broke as he helped a farmer pull his wagon free. After handing over a few coins to the lady for the food supplies he leaned in close.
I seek a town of barbarians. I have been told that there is one near. His voice low and scratchy as he spoke.
Ye be looking for that dirty mudhole called Nawrick. The response seemed to ring out over the crowd as a couple turned to regard the young man with glares and the occassional dirty look. It's south o' here. Jus follow the road south and you'll get there easy enough. Though you'd be a fool to travel there. She spat on the ground beside him and took the coin that was offered.
After gathering some more information the young man thanked her and made his way out of the market. He had gathered that there were no caravans travelling south this tenday, and more than likely none for a while. He showed one rare moment of impatience then thinking back on the vision on the ship. He would follow the road as the lady suggested. Alone.
He had travelled many miles in his life and this trip seemed no different. He had been warned of the Eastlanders and thought little of it. He had seen bandits upon many roads and none had been much of a problem in the past. The ignorance of youth showed in him then though his brown eyes revealed a good deal wisdom. He spent the night at the Dancing Mermaid and slept very little. His evening prayers went way into the night as he communed with his goddess. His raspy voice was a little louder then as if he were more cofident in the seclusion of room.
Oh if it were a race the sun would have been dissapointed to find the young man beat it's rays to the streets. Malachai had left some gold with the barkeep and headed out on his road then. To his destiny. To Norwick.
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Arrival
The air was heavy that morning with low dense fog as the Ice Slicer, a medium sized ship, moved over the water like a ghost. Tiny droplets of the lake's frigid water sprayed up as the bow dipped a little after breaking over a small wave. Many sailors and officers were already on the deck moving around as the young man turned in the hammock. Slowly he rolled to a sitting position rubbing the last bits of sleep from his eyes. The common sleeping quarters were damp and musty and the young man often found sleep was a luxury due to the occassional sick passenger moving across the lake.
Slowly and quietly he moved over to his items that were hanging from the post where one end of the hammock was tied. His hand dipped into the pack and retreived a heavy cloak and a small silver pendent. The thick green cloak draped over his shoulders, but still retained indentions from what looked to be armor that was worn underneath. The young man turned the pendent over in his hand a moment before putting it around his neck to hang in it's familiar spot.
A sudden sound from the deck startled the young man to wake up fully as he rubbed his eyes one last time. He carefully made his way to the stairs to the door. As the door swung open his soft brown eyes closed to the stinging light. Blinking a few times the young priest stepped out onto the deck. Though it was morning no sunlight shown through the mist yet.
Sailors moved about him tieing down various ropes and moving the odd box or two, none of which the young man really cared about. He wove in and out of the workers as he made his way to the front of the boat. There he found just a bit of peace in the cold morning. He looked out over the water while the gloomy fog hung like heavy drapes over the lake. The cold water and dreary haze splashed it's way up over the lip of the boat making the already heavy cloak seem like he was still wearing armor. How he disliked the water he thought to himself.
The man found his way to his knees beginning his morning prayers. If any could hear the young man's low voice they would assume he was sick after spending so much time on the lake, but that isn't the case. The scratchy voice called out to his goddess, Lurue, for direction and guidence. He asked for strength and the will to complete his task.
The young man was shook from his concentration as two sailors dropped a crate with a large smashing sound. Looking over his shoulder for just a moment the man turned back to his prayers, but as he turned he saw something. In the fog, no the fog itself. He rubbed his eyes as he stared into the veil and saw the fog seperate in front of the ship, something was coming through.
Quickly the man turned to see if anyone else was aware of the current danger, but no one seemed to notice or seemed to care if they did. His attention shifted back to the fog just in time to catch the tip of the large spike split through the fog. Then the fog split further and before the young man stood a great steed created from the very mist that hung around the ship. It's smokey like body shifted and moved as more fog moved to add to the beast creating it's mane. It's foot stamped the ground and turned it's great head to meet the gaze of young priest. For what seemed like an eternity the priest and the beast stared at one another, the young man's mouth moved in prayer, but nothing escaped as he looked upon his goddess. Lurue was there. He could feel her always and now he looked upon her finally.
Just as he was about to call out to Lurue the sun, after a lengthy fight, finally broke through the damp fog. The young man fell back into a sitting position as the sight was burned away by the Sun's rays. The great unicorn slowly dissapated under the suns clensing rays until all that was left was it's head, and then it too was gone.
Malachai looked back to the crew and seen none as in shock as he. Had they seen the vision? Just as he was convinced only he had been so blessed one of the crew pointed and shouts began to ring out in the morning. Quickly he turned back expecting the beast to have returned. Though this time he looked upon the banks of Peltarch, self proclamed Jewell of the Icelace.
