Set back
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His mouth had a taste that would be hard to describe, without swearing. The blanket was of a rough weave that had almost scratched his chin raw. His gummy eyes squinted up at the ceiling trying to figure out where he was . . . nothing. Sounds from below, music of a mechanical nature, some drunk laughing and the usual sussurus of noise that indicates an active inn. But he did not want to get up and find out more. He didn't care.
The dream. It had been so real. He wanted to drift back to sleep. Away from the aches and pains to the world where they fought, not for glory but for what was right. He closed his eyes again and slept.
They had tracked the necromancer to his lair. The two dwarves, the elf and the human crept up to the edge of the ancient graveyard and peered between the headstones at the central crypt. "Looks quiet from here" Grumbled one of the dwarven brothers in his own tongue.
"Of course it does . . . quiet as the grave" The elf replied not bothering to translate to dwarven. They had all been together so long that language was not an issue anymore. Each spoke their own language as they knew the others could understand them just the same.
"I'd tell you to hush but I know it wouldn't do any good." The human sighed and pushed himself up to stand and get a good look. Behind his back the others exchanged glances and remembered their promise to his wife, Difeer. This was to be the last adventure fr the human. He was willing but he was reaching the end of his oh-so-short lifespan and the final years would be in the arms of the one who loved him above all other things, not out chasing evil. D'Awe's days were drawing to a close.
"Let's see what sort of welcoming committee they have, then" said the second dwarf as he jumped up on the headstone and looked out with the human. Together the group started across the cemetary, watchful. When the skeletons and zombies rose up to meet them it was almost anticlimatic. Arrows flew, each finding their mark in a torso. Axes cut the bones into so much kindling. The one mummy that showed was quick-fried with a fireball from D'Awe and they were at the entrance to the crypt.
"Is it just me or is this too easy" The first dwarf squinted at the door.
"Maybe we are just that damn good." The elf adjusted his quiver, facing out into the cemetary.
D'Awe stepped up to the door and ran a practiced hand along the edges, checking for traps. . . nothing. he then stepped back and allowed the dwarven brothers to 'pick' the lock. It had been a long standing joke that they did not need a 'scout' because both brothers carried mining picks which would open most stone doors in fairly short order. D'Awe stepped up to the now open doorway and murmered a word that lit the interior brighter than the outside murk was. The room was wide and ampty but a doorway at the farside led downwards. Their path was set.
The monk nodded to the shield brothers and stepped into the room. . . .and fell. . . and fell . . . and fell. He had long enough to curse the simple illusion that had taken him in. His body automatically went into fall position and he slapped walls trying to find a handhold or bleed off some of his speed. When he hit the bottom it was with a bone-bruising thud that winded him for a moment. A boom from above made him look up and then roll to the side as masonry fell all around.
"That." Said a cold voice. "Was the top floor of the crypt. Your friends will be hours trying to find a way down here."
"They know I am alive." D'Awe wheezed as he struggled to his feet and focussed his Chi. Internal energy flowed through him and he felt better, but not well.
"I know of your linkages. How they would hunt the one who killed you to the ends of the world. How they can feel your essence. I do not plan on . . . killing you. That would be too dangerous. But I am going to remove you from play."
"From play? This is not a game."
"For me, it is. I pull the strings, I watch you all dance your little jigs. You toss spells and kick, your stumpy friends lock shields and charge whilst that pointy-eared bone-rack shoots all those bedamned arrows of his. It has been a game but you have been costing me my fun. So it is time to remove you from the board. But . . . how to remove you so you don't trigger the linkage? This took me a long time to arrrange."
D'Awe was braced for almost anything but what loomed out of the darkness was something from his worst nightmares. A demonlord smiled from the shadows, haloed in fire. "I may have how many?" He thundered.
"Take almost all of them Laird. Almost all. But leave him enough that he will live a time. Take him to the furthest corner of the land from here and dump him in some forgotten inn. When he dies at the hands of some nameless nothing his 'brothers' will chase after his killer and leave us alone for a long, long time."
"All of what?" Dawe demanded, dropping into a defensive crouch, knowing that he might only delay the inevitable or die, which might be the better alternative.
'Why, your memories, your skills, your experiences." A laugh started to climb the scale. "We will give you something to make up for it, though. You will regain your youth. But at the cost of almost everything else you have learned. Have a nice journey, D'Awe, I do not expect we will meet again. But rest assured, when I find your wifes hiding place, and I will, I will be sure to let you know that you live, and do NOT remember her. That will make her last moments all the more poignant."
"NOOOO!" D'Awe spun and charged into the darkness only to have huge clawed hands pluck him up like a child. The last thing he saw was the fangs of the demonlord closing in . . .
he sat up in a cold sweat, shaking
his mouth still tasted awful
an inn
how did he get here?
he stumbled from the bed and looked into a tarnished brass mirror that hung on the wall.
the face that looked back WAS his own but not one he had seen in a very long time
"What the hell has happened to me?" D'Awe could feel the dream slipping away. Trying to remember it was like grabbing smoke.
"Get stronger, get better, get back" Over and over he repeated it like a mantra as he ook stock of what he had. A small pouch of coins. A gladiators outfit. A old and tattered spellbook. It was not much, but the book was in his own handwriting and that was a start.
Get stronger, get better, get back? But back to where?
and why
the dream was gone
he was in Norwick
to
Get Stronger
Get Better
Get Back
MND/Vortext
D'Awe
Nars Skald
Ellyl
Maik
and a few others, each with their own story
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Reviewed - XP Pending.
