3. The Silver Light Chronicles

The Silver Light Chronicles


  • Wanderer

    Night over Norwick, and all was quiet. The commoners had gone in their houses, and one by one the candlelight ceased to shine trough the windows. The militia stood at the gates half-asleep, a seamingly peaceful shift ahead. One man walked trough the town, making his way across the now empty square and onto the gates. He gave the guards a quick nod before proceeding out. The militiamen knew him, a local citizen for three
    for four years now. A bit odd at times, but generally harmless.

    The moon's light reflected off the metal of his chains, and he looked across the Nars that stretched out before him. His eyes were a bright, silvery blue that seemed to match the moon itself. The wanderer worked his way to a small hill outside of the town. Even the bandits were nowhere to be seen. The hill was deserted and quiet. Perfect. Taking a small, silver pendant from around his neck, he knelt down facing the full moon. Holding the pendant in his hands, he began a quiet prayer.

    Just a few minutes into meditation, his almost-elven ears peaked at muffled voices in the night, not far away.
    The pendant dissapeared back around his neck and under his shirt. The curved blade of his scimitar appeared from it's sheath and the wooden shield, liberated from the clutches of vile orcs, was unstrapped from his back and onto his arm.

    He stepped onto the edge of the hill, gazing in the direction of the voices. Two men.. and a women. He closed his eyes for just a moment, whispering something underneath his breath, and a raven came down from the sky and flew in the direction of the voices. The wanderer could see everything trough the birds eyes. The women wore a simple robe, as so many peasant women did. She was quite young, not even two decades in age. Her hands were bound, and a few light bruises defiled her fair skin. The two men wore dark clothing, daggers out. Their words and mannerisms left little doubt as to their intention.

    "Heh.. ya thought ya could just walk around outside of town like that, din't ya? Well.. ya're one daft whench if ya though that."
    The other man joined his companion in taunting the girl, a vile grin on his face.
    "Yeah.. but don' worry. We'll take care'a ya. We'll take ya back to town."
    "'at's right.. but me and me mate 'ere have been workin' all day, and we need a little fun, ya see? I'm sure you wouldn't mind helping us a bit with tha', right lass?"
    "Yeah… that's only proper... there's bad people out here, and you should be grateful to meet such fine gentlemen as us."

    The two men laughed darkly, never noticing the raven that was watching them from a nearby tree.
    Never noticing the slender figure approaching them from the dark behind them.
    Never noticing his quick motions, and the bolt of magic that slammed into the left man's back, the power of the hit sending him flying into the nearby cliff wall. The sick sound of breaking bones made it all too clear he would never walk again. Dropping to the floor in a wasteful pile, the man bellowed in pain and grabbed his lower back.
    His companion grabbed his dagger firmly and swung around, only to gaze into the wanderer's deep, silver eyes.
    The thug lunged forward, his dagger out, determined to carve the man that had incapacitated his friend and so rudely interrupted their entertainment.

    The wanderer caught the dagger into his wooden shield, and at the same time swung around to deliver a quick swipe with his blade. The thug's eyes widened briefly as both his body and mind began to comprehend. His pants quickly turned a blood-red, the strange dye trickling down from between his legs.
    He would never try his plan again. Clutching his groin, he crawed away from the wanderer's feet, towards where his friend lied now.

    The half-elven man then turned his attention to the girl. After a brief moment to appraise her wounds, he clenched the pendant around his neck, uttering a quiet prayer of soothing and healing. A quick gesture with his hands, and the girl's bruises dissapeared. She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes filled with old tears of fear and sorrow, and new tears of joy and relief. He gave her a brief, warm smile before picking her up in his arms and carrying her off to the town.

    She woke up in her home the next morning. She had fallen asleep on the way, and never had the chance to learn of her savior's name.
    Dawn was just moments away, but the room was still quite dark. A single, white candle on her nightstand lit up her face.
    She never learned her savior's name. In the dark of the night, she never got a clear view of her savior's face.
    She would never see him again. All she had now, was a white candle he had left her.
    A light in the dark.

    (( Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated 🙂 ))


  • A letter is sent to the Tejan-Revendor Estate, Cormyr

    _To the office of Isendillur Tejan-Revendor, Family Elder

    I write you this letter, so you would know that I still live. I know that I have been missing from the family for some years now, and I would like to bring clarification to my current situation. I currently reside within the land of Narfell. Although I have considered returning to Cormyr to rejoin the family, I eventually decided against it. However, seeing as I still am a member of the family, I believe I am entitled to my now-deceased father's holdings and assets. I understand, however, that these assets may already have been divided among others of the family, yet I must stress its importance. My father's holdings are, after all, mine by heritige, and I should have access to them as such.

    In the event that my holdings have already been divided or sold, I am entitled to proper compensation. I will accept no excuses on this matter, as the family law is perfectly clear on this. My fate may not have been confirmed for some years, but I do so now.
    Please send information regarding this matter as soon as possible.

    Yours truly,

    Elorathall Tejan-Revendor_


  • Forsaken

    One more week. And nobody visits me anymore. Nobody. Everybody has forgotten me, moved on. False promises of how they would visit. They never do. Amaliel was right. They would forget me. They did.
    There is nothing left for me here.

    I'm leaving.


  • Il Nino - What Comes Around

    I hate you, I hate you - shut up…

    You think that I'm the one to blame
    Everything I lose is just a piece of what there is
    To gain
    You think it's cool and all is fine
    Now is the day when you pay, this is my time
    I feel for you nothing but pain
    I am what you will be, you are dying in me
    I love you, I hate you, I miss you...

    You're always thinking you're so perfect
    Those thoughts drove me away from home
    But if you put me through your tests
    Then I will fade

    I have nothing to say
    But I feel like my mouth is wide open
    Everything that is real
    Comes around
    Comes around...


  • Twisted

    I'm standing on a cliff. Stiff, cold winds blow across the pass. The full moon is up in the sky, and there's nobody in sight. Down there she walks.

    Amaliel

    I had been watching her for days now. Waiting for the time to strike. Waiting for now. She does not see me. She does not hear me. She believes herself alone in her travel north. Away from the guards. Away from the walls.

    Away from safety.

    Arrow and archer become one. A vile green shade on the tip reflects the moon's light. Will it reveal me to her?
    There is nothing else. Nothing but me, her and the arrow that will implant itself in her. Drive itself into her flesh and Ravage her self. The perfect moment. The arrow flies, hitting the pale elf in the shoulder. Where it was intended to be.

    She twists and turns, startled and now aware of my presence. There is no more point in trying to hide. I glide down the slope, using my right gauntlet to slow my descend. And here I stand before her. She tries to run, aware of the obvious advantage I have over her. But the poison takes Control over her legs. The poison answers to me, and does my will for the time being. For just a moment I wonder. Will she scream? Will she break the oath to her godess to save her own life?

    She does not Scream.

    She looks up at me calmly, giving me that smile again. That smile. I hate that smile. Too warm,
    too alluring. A seductive whisper. A Promise of things to come, of possibilities. And something enters my Heart and mind. A distraction.
    My sword is now in my hand. Slightly curved, a masterwork of a weapon.
    Perfectly balanced, and sharpened to perfection. The blade dulled and dyed as to not reflect the light. The handle a dark gold.

    An art piece.

    She knows what will come. Everything for the past eight years has led up to this. From the first time we met, it was the inevitable course we took. She let herself be trapped like this. Just one strike, and her existence would fade from this world. Her existence would no longer Torment me.

    But I hesitate.

    Her eyes have no fear. The shock of the arrow penetrating her soft skin - unscarred - has faded. She smiles at me, now fully aware of what will happen. But I hesitate. I could end it right now, so why wait? Why would I leave her alive to Pain me more? It would never stop haunting me. She was the person that had locked me away. She was the one that has thought me more than what I at first believed.

    What I Believe…

    She sees my doubt. She cannot run, but she can still speak. She speaks to me as she has before.
    "What are you waiting for, Elor?"
    "Is this not what you want? Do you not want to kill me? To feel my blood on your hands and see the life fade from me?"
    "You could Kill me now, Elor. There's nobody here. But you don't want to kill me, do you?"

    She's right.

    I don't want to kill her. My blade now from my hand, I can almost hear it wailing in agony as it is denied the Blood.
    I want her to live. I want her to continue tormenting me. I want to make her my own. And when she has nothing left to
    show me, then she will be removed. When she can no longer haunt and pain me, then she will become useless.

    I feel my Mark burning.

    Perhaps Keira and Noria were right. Perhaps I was blessed by Her. Perhaps I do crave a part of Her embrace, to experience.
    To learn from, and to spread. To show to others the glory of Her, and how it is universal and present in all things of life.

    Desire..

    Her skin is soft and pale, wrapped around her slender flesh. So easily could she fall, but Someone watches her. I can no longer
    bear myself to harm her. I need her. As I need Keira. To remind myself of what is real. To remind myself of the fool I am, and the
    games I play with myself. I have been lost from the day I was born, and I still am. Wandering between light and dark, I try to find
    a way. And She will help me with it.
    I pick up her light Self, carrying her off towards the North. She smiles confidently now, watching me from my eyes. Her legs still
    won't work. She'll feel pain in the morning as her flesh fights to regain control. Her muscles will be sore, and she'll feel pain.

    One that would pass by might think us lovers.

    I know where I'm going with her. She will be mine. And she will show me what I need. And I will love her. I will love her like a wolf that devours a deer alive. I will love her like the familiar coldness of my cell.
    I will love her like the hangman's rope..

    Awaken..

    My cell forms around me. Amaliel is gone. I'm still lying on a dirty blanket, and the constant moaning of prisoners and guards alike
    surrounds me. And I smile at the coming day. When She will be mine.


  • A letter, without a destination adress, is placed between the pages of Elor's journal. A small book, filled with thoughts, songs and drawings.

    And a few ripped pages.

    _Dear Eille,

    I'm glad to hear you're alright. I hope you meet a lot of people, and see a lot of places, like I have. I'm sorry I can't travel along with you. Once you return, and you're not all travelled out, you could come with me to Cormyr. I need to see the local chapter of my family there, to proof to them I'm still alive.

    Peltarch had a civil war some time ago, and I was afraid you had gotten hurt. I managed to pull trough, and I'm back in my cell now. I could have run away, but I had no place to go to anyway, with you away. And I don't want to be hunted for the rest of my life. I want to leave this place behind me, and start anew.

    They threw a new inmate in here, a Kelemnvorite zealot. She was apparantly jailed for attacking a follower of Velsharoon in the city.
    It reminds me a lot of how I ended up where I am now, threatening Amaliel. Her name's Call, and she's so blinded by her faith. She won't listen to reason, and she's a complete ass to everybody. I also find it curious that she has a blade made of bone, that extends from her arm. I thought prisoners weren't allowed to carry weapons… Does she truly need her arm? In this place?
    Some people wanted to visit me, but she never steps away from the bars, clinging to them like she wants to have a child with them. And to top it all off, that holier-than-thou gravedigger is accepted into the Peltarch army, and will be leaving the prison soon. I can't help wondering why I haven't been offered a time of public service myself. I wouldn't have mind tending to the park or sweeping the streets...

    Anyhow, once I'm released, I think I'll head south. There's a valley not far from here, where they're building a settlement of some kind. Right now it's little more than an inn, but I'd like to help there. I could literally build a new life for myself.
    That valley is remote, and out of the way, unaffected by the politics and ramblings of the other towns. Perfect.

    I'll see you again soon, Eille. Until then, enjoy your travels, and let Selune guide you, wherever you go.

    Yours,
    Elor_


  • Escape

    He stood, pressed up against the sides of the prison wall, trying to hide as well as he could. Hell had broken loose. The guards had fled, leaving the prisoners to die. The rebel troops poured into the prison, killing random prisoners, and dragging others off for some unspeakable purpose. Then there was a deep, loud roar. A bright light, and fire, and a part of the prison's wall went missing. A skirmish, between the new guard and the prisoners, desperatly trying to escape. The guards had their armor and swords, but the prisoners fought for their lifes. It was a decided battle though. The rebels dragged off the surviving prisoners. And all this time, Elor was still watching from a dark space in his cell. The prison bars had been twisted by the blast. He could squeeze trough, and he quietly made his way to the storeroom.

    Yes. His beloved blade was still here, as was his armor. He gathered up whatever food he could find, which wasn't much at all.
    And there he was done. Alone in a hostile city. Forgotten.
    He would have to find his way out of the walls, and towards the south.
    Spending some time contemplating his options, he stepped outside, starting his greatest escape yet.

    –--

    He wandered the broken streets of Peltarch for some hours, moving between shadows and avoiding the patrols of men he had seen killing the prison guards. Hells had poured into the city, it seems. Dead people and fire everywhere. A few stragglers trying to scavenge what they could.
    Finally, Elor arrived near the commons. A group of men was guarding the gates. He pondered his options a time. He would eventually be found anyhow. But what if the gate was locked?

    Throwing a rock into a nearby ally, he distracted the guards long enough to slip past, and sprinting away, before arriving at a camp of some sort, and collapsing of exhaustion. He woke up several hours later. Alive.


  • Elor stood in a corner of the cell, in one of the deepest shadows, watching the other inmates. The light of the torch flickered down the hall, but the cell was poorly lit. At one time he had slept close to the bars, close to the light, but he had grown accustomed to the darkness. Amaliel was right. Constantly fighting the darkness is a fight you cannot win. But she was also wrong. Do not lose yourself to it, but use it. Darkness is a condition, a tool to be studied, mastered and used, as so many things, and people, were. He stood there, with a shard of broken glass in his hand, his tight grip causing a trickle of blood from his palm. He felt. He lived.

    There lay the half-orc Krug. Snoring as usual. A dumb brute, but his strength had proven invaluable to Elor's survival down here. He had befriended this one early on, putting up quite the charade. Elor crept along the wall, his view shifting to a middle-aged man.
    Jonas. He didn't talk much, but neither did Elor. Not anymore. There was nothing left to discuss anyhow.

    Elor's gaze wandered along the rest of the prisoners. Trivial.
    He had grown a comfort with the shadow that he never thought he would have. It was good to stand nearly unseen, and watch those around you.
    For a moment, Elor considered the choice he made. Was it truly right? There is no hiding in the Light. But then again, he wasn't dwelling in complete Darkness either. Shadows are a play of both, somewhere in between. Ideas started to form in his mind. He could see himself, standing in alleys and on rooftops. He wasn't a fighter, or a paladin. One who must advertise his presence. True, he was known as a bard, and it would make a fine mask. His true purpose didn't lie with song and dance. No. His purpose would lead him to the dark crevices of the world. To the corners and rocks that non had ever considered.

    But for now, he would wait. The time would be soon.


  • Eille

    I don't remember when I ever felt like this. Perhaps I've never felt like this at all.

    Eille

    Her name that fills me with hope and warmth. She's the very symbol of the new person I'm changing into, of the new dawn I'll experience once I leave this dark and cold place. She told me she cares a lot for me, that she "likes" me. I can't help but feeling the same for her. But is it really Eille I feel so deeply about, or is it what I see in her, what I feel she represents?

    Love is a strange, unique thing, as is pain. Everybody experiences love and pain in very different ways. I've suffered a lot, and I'm bound to suffer more, as is the fate of all existence. But have I ever truly known love?

    Sarina.
    I was only a child then. A strange variety of friendship that turned to something stronger. She was a Waterdavian, and one of the few friends I had in those days. I thought I was in love, but I was just too young to realize what it meant. It was doomed to end when her family moved away.

    Tekan
    A strange young woman. A passionate Malarite, and we met several times during me travels from Waterdeep. But that was not love. That was nothing more than lust. Entertaining, but lacking in depth. But I was happy with it at the time, and I can't help but giving a slight chuckle at her memory.

    Krita
    A Paladin of Mystra. I met her when I had only just arrived in Narfell. A few days, and she already told me she loved me. Even in those days, I felt she was naive. She dissapeared shortly after, ending before it could actually start.

    Keira
    Guidance and respect turned friendship turned love. Or so I believe. It was never too clear what she truly felt, and I doubt I will ever know. Keira remains an enigma to this day, and I can't decide how I truly feel about her. Whatever form of love I felt for her has passed however, a relic of a period in my life I wish to close, like a chapter of a book.

    Gondalla
    She was like Tekan, and little else.

    Tris and Faera
    Strange, warped emotions created by the call of the blood. Something deep within still stirs whenever I see them, but it was a perverted form of love that I felt. Drinking someone's blood from their veigns, although one of the most intimate sensations I ever felt, does not qualify as an act of love, or so a Sunite would say. Little do they know…

    Natanya
    Paladin of Tyr, and a light in the darkness. I consider her one of my closest friends, and somewhere I feel as if I have to proof myself to her. She was there when the demon was ripped away from me. She visits me in jail, and she's generally shown great patience and compassion for me. Perhaps if things would have been different, I could have loved her. But things weren't different. I care for her. And little more.

    Eille
    The first one I actually believe could turn to love. She worries that I might break her heart. I can't promise I won't, for nobody can see clearly the future. She's young, and she seems to absolutely adore me. But then again, I'm young too.. and her affection has begun to rub off on me.
    Perhaps this could work out just fine. Only the future will tell.
    If she truly loves me, she will be the first I actually believe. She will be the first of which the promise does not seem empty or impossible.


  • Companions

    Things had changed. Elor wasn't alone in his faith anymore. In hindsight, he never was. But for him, it was the first time he met others like him. Tindra, Eille.. and apparantly Tris had turned to Her as well. A welcome turn of events. A few days ago, Elor had told Amaliel he didn't need her visits anymore. Actually, he only did so because Eille asked him to. He didn't mind Amaliel, but perhaps it was for the best if she didn't. He simply wished to talk to her, but she.. she wanted to turn him to Shar. And he knew it wouldn't be right for him. Why would he revel in Loss and darkness? He had always strived to better himself and his situation, something Shar does not approve of. No. Selune was right for him, he knows she is. It remains to be seen if Amaliel truly leaves him…

    Elor brought the faces of his new companions, and let out a chuckle at the fact that they were all women... and good-looking women too.
    But what was most important, is that they seemed to care. It was strange. He had never met Eille or Tindra before, and yet it felt like he had known them for years.
    Tindra was a strange one. She moved with a catlike grace, and let out a throaty purr now and then, the very sound of it vibrating deep into his body. Eille was pretty young. She was nice, a bit naive maybe. But a sweet girl. As Elor tought more on his fellow Selunites, he felt more and more confident that he had made the right choice. They had invited him to live in the gypsy camp. Perhaps he would move there. Just another year and a half.

    The guard slipped a plate of food under the bars. Mostly some stew and a small bit of chicken. Elor nodded and smiled thankfully to the female guard, then slowly started to eat his dinner. All the time in the world.


  • Playing Dumb

    He sat on the cold cell floor, staring into the feeble light of the corridor.
    It was always dark down here.. an unkown hour of an unknown day. He had begun to forgot how long he had been in here.. it seemed an eternity ago he last saw the outside.
    And it seemed it would take another eternity before he would again.
    Elor closed his eyes, and let his thoughts drift. Fewer people had come to visit him these days..
    Some of them had stopped visiting at all, just like Amaliel said they would…
    Keira still came, now and then, and Elanor, although very rarely. Amaliel was really the only person that came to visit him, day after day.. he had come to use her visits as a way to keep count off days. But even when she visited, they hardly spoke at all these days.
    Always the same, generic, meaningless chatter. In the end, they always ended up saying nothing at all.

    How had it come to this? He had left home to find freedom. Only to find he wasn't free at all. He had defeated his demon. His father now lies dead. His mother.. he hasn't seen her in so long. She could be dead too. He would be the last of his line, the last of a long line, that goes back for centuries.
    Elorathall Tejan-Revendor Llineriell... Elor whispered the words slowly and deliberatly. It was his full name, his real name.
    He had registered in Norwick under Smith, but he had just made that name up. It was a trivial, meaningless name.
    Contemplating his options, Elor soon lost perception of his surroundings. There wasn't much to perceive anyway; a constant moaning of prisoners, a constant darkness, the occasional cough.
    He could go back, back to Waterdeep. He still had distand family; uncles... But he hadn't seen them for years..
    Or he could stay in Narfell, and forge his own family, his own line and destiny.
    Cormyr... His ancestor once belonged to a family in Cormyr, but had abandoned them. He could travel there, some day,
    and rejoin his ancestrial bloodline.
    No. The past is the past. We carry our history with us, but we must move on. He was a noble, true, but his direct relatives were now gone, and the rest of his family probably thought him dead.

    Elor glanced into the corridor, hearing familiar footsteps, light and graceful. Keira or Amaliel had come again.
    Or perhaps a new one? How he longed to be outside again. The light would hurt his eyes. The sun's light, anyway.
    Her Light was different. The sun was hot, too hot sometimes, and so bright it would make you blind if you looked at it in defiance. But She.. She was different. Her light was warm and caring, for those who let themselves be warmed by it. She does not suffer the Sun's blinding pride. And yet, She is so sad, so delicate.

    Amaliel turned the corner, he could see her from where he sat, in the darkness of his cell.
    So strange.. Why does she continue visiting ,even though there is nothing left to say?
    He could not meditate the way she wanted him too... His head was always swirling with thoughts and emotion.
    He liked it that way. So much richer then an empty mind. Keira didn't understand either. She kept on talking about focus. But what exactly was she focusing on?

    Right then and there, at that moment, he hated Keira. He hated her so deeply it made his heart pound and his blood rush. He hated her soft voice.. he hated her fair pale skin.. he hated her graceful stride. He hated the way she made him feel. So confused and lost. Their thoughts were different, and he tried to understand hers. But she was always trying to reach into him, to twist him in ways she saw fit.. Oh how he hated her. In his mind, he could see her dead. He could see her lying in the dirt of his cell.. her blood on his hands and her eyes gray and dull. And the next moment.. the feelings were dulled again. From a blinding hate to a grey area between caring and not caring.

    Amaliel slowly walked up to him, smiling kindly. Always smiling. As if she thought Elor a fool.. a potential convert ripe for the taking. She knew nothing about him. But he would play along... and he would bide his time.
    He smiled back warmly.. pretending to care.. to be eager to hear her words and kiss her feet. Just a lost child waiting to be shown the right path. Perhaps he really was lost. No.. not lost.. misguided. He had made mistakes.. so much is true. But he had grown and learned from them. And every day he learned more of Amaliel. He studied her movements until he could see her in his mind. He could see her face when he was alone in the dark.. smiling at him.. A strange warmth..

    Elor shook off the strange thoughts. Already she was gesturing words to him. He had become quite proficient at reading her signs during his time here.. He just sat and watched her.. like he did every day. Whatever would happen would happen.. and would be dealt with in proper time. Maybe he would one day face Amaliel. When he would test her strenght, and her resolve. But for now, he was content to play dumb, to smile,
    to show interest.

    Elor smiled.. his bardic talent once again proved its use.


  • Elor Elor
    (Based on The Offspring - Walla Walla)

    1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and
    1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and
    1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and
    1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and

    Goodbye my friend, you messed up with Shar
    You’re going to prison, you’re stuck in the Pel
    You gotten off easy so many times
    I guess no one told you how to get a life

    Barrim wasn’t lenient like he was before
    You got five to life and a kick out the door
    The public defender really did try
    Too little, too late, you didn’t get a life

    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in… Elor Elor!
    Slap on the wrist, well, not this time
    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Fools to prison is the destination

    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Slap on the wrist, well, not this time
    In the scheme of life, we’re all just brothers
    Rehabilitate with all the others, whoa, well, I’ll see ya

    That elf looked so tempting, so easy to smite
    Just like that loviathan that you tried to fight
    You started to run, but didn’t get far
    ’cause under your arm was a scimitar!

    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Slap on the wrist, well, not this time
    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Fools to prison is the destination

    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Slap on the wrist, well, not this time
    In the scheme of life, we’re all just brothers
    Rehabilitate with all the others, whoa, well, I’ll see ya

    • I’m innocent! She's a Sharian. She provoked me and laughed at my symbol. She's evil!

    Oh oh, not this time my friend
    You’ll be in lockdown by ten
    I’m afraid you can’t talk your way outta this one, son
    Now, four walls are your 24-hour-a-day, constant companions

    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Slap on the wrist, well, not this time
    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Fools to prison is the destination

    Hey, Elor, I’ll see you in... Elor Elor!
    Slap on the wrist, well, not this time
    In the scheme of life, we’re all just brothers
    Rehabilitate with all the others, whoa, well, I’ll see ya

    Have a nice life!


  • Light and Loss

    There she comes again, that elfling Amaliel. A child of Darkness.
    She got me in here.. in this damned prison. I carried out the devine
    will of the Light. Well, perhaps too literal. She says to oppose Darkness
    wherever it is found.

    A challenge. I challenged her to a fair duel. A matter of faith and
    skill. The Light and Dark, locked in combat. True, I did not want
    witnesses. But I wanted to make sure nobody would intervene. This would
    be an honourable fight. A direct confrontation between me and her, and by
    extension, of Light and Darkness. If I wanted to murder her, I would have done so already. I've had ample opportunities. Learning where she lived was easy enough. If I would have acted the role of assassin she has given me, it would have been as easy as waiting in her house, gagging her with one hand and planting my blade in her gut with the other.
    Wait until her pulse stops, a potion of invisibility and nobody would ever have known.

    But it is not the way of the Light. We do not sneak around and hide in darkness. It would have been a fair duel. If she would have been honourable, I probably would have spared her too, should my faith seem stronger than hers.

    But no.. she twisted my challenge around. She hides behind guards and local laws. This city in all its wisdom allows the spawn of darkness to roam free in their streets. Does this mean I should simply watch and allow it to fester and consume the city? Well, if I get out of this cell.. if I ever get out of this cell.. then they can sort it out themselves. They have chosen their path, let them deal with the consequences.

    And now, here I am, awaiting a trial for "conspiracy for murder".
    Hah! I never vowed to kill her. I merely challenged her to a duel, and she twisted my words around. It was in the middle of the commons, and several guards where there. If I did threatened to kill her, why didn't they act? No sense of duty? Or perhaps they would like nothing better than to see a follower of the Lady of Loss under my blade. Or perhaps, what I did was not illegal at all.. It is not illegal to challenge someone to a duel. In a way, she did accept the challenge. But she fought on her terms. Subterfuge, lies and deceit. Twisting my words to serve her own purpose.

    She is truly a vile and dispicable woman. I can see her again. Every day she comes here to taunt me. She brings one plate of food for an entire cell of men, which hardly get any food at all. She likes to see them fight over it. She has been doing this for years now. But something has changed. I am here now, locked in alongside them. She does not see it, but a mere flicker of light, of hope, can bring a great change. I've been talking with the fellow inmates for now. Being a former bard is useful at this time. Many of these men and women are simply bored, and a little entertainment goes a long way towards lifting their spirits.
    There have been less and less fights, and the mood has become less dark and brooding. It happens slow, but more and more inmates begin to share the food they get equally, and I'm starting to believe I'm getting trough to them, teaching many of them a new sense of mutual respect. As for the "treat" Amaliel brings daily, many inmates have agreed to take turns. One day, the first gets it, the next the second, and so on…

    Many of these men and women are not evil at heart, just merely people with feelings, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of them have lost enough..


  • ((OOOOOOO!!! Selûnite!!!! Hope we can meet up sometime. Good stories, btw.))


  • Prayer

    A man stands in the ruins of the old tower, in the orc lands.
    Full moon, and a freezing wind that goes straight ino the bone.
    A small light flickers in his hand. A white candle.

    Lady Silver, I call to you for your strength and guidance.
    Let me not be tainted by fear, evil or darkness.

    The candle flickers hard in the wind and snow, and he moves his hands
    ever closer around the flame.

    Our Lady of the Moon, know that you are my only one and true godess.
    They try to convince me that others can guide as you can, but they are wrong.
    I do not need Helm's vigiliance, when your Light guides me to that which
    threatens my priestess, and reveals its true intentions.
    I do not need Uthgar's strength, for it is worthless without Your guidance.
    I do not need the mercy of Besheba, the one who cursed you, for I know your radience shall watch over me.

    The candle's light dims, and the man, now lightly covered in snow, his limbs a dark blue now, seems powerless to stop the decline.

    You are the one true Light, and the one that guides my steps.
    Grant me strength of body, mind and soul so I may serve you and your priestess without faltering. May your light flow trough me, and shine outwards onto those that would hide in darkness.

    Although the candle's flame is nearly exstinguished, it's light more and more bright, shining onto the remains of the tower around it.

    My sword, body and mind are in your service. Guide me to your foes and I shall strike. Guide me to your faithfuls and I shall watch over them. Guide me to the lost and I shall retun them to the Light. For you are the supreme Light, and non shall ever doubt your presence when I am.

    Although the candle's flame is now gone, the light is brighter than ever. Orcs in the distance notice it's glow, and move to find out it's cause..

    May your Light shine out and deflect my foe's blows. May it blind them and render their strikes untrue. Your Silver Light shall shine trough all doors. In the deepest darkness of the underground, I shall venture and cleanse the evil that hides away from your Light. I shall route out those
    that carry darkness within them, and spread it like a plague. For they are your foes, and are anathema in your eyes.

    Three orcs climb up to the tower. Seeing the young man chanting, they draw their axes and slowly sneak closer.
    But the wanderer's ears are not so easily deceived. Within a single flicker of light, his curved blade is out, ready to strike on all that would seek to harm him. The three orcs rush into the ruins, bellowing bloody battlecries,
    calling out to their gods for strength in battle. Heretics.
    The wanderer strikes quickly, dodging the orcs blows as by premature perception. One of the beasts takes the full force of his sharp steel in the neck, rending the flesh and arteries over. Falling to the ground, it clutches its throat and can already feel death picking at it's body. A quick swipe of the blade, followed by a punch in the face knocks another orc into the tower walls. The wanderer shifts his grip on the hilt, throwing his blade into the orc's chest, piercing its heart. The last one. He swings brutally, his axe cleaving into an old support strut that still stood in the ruins. A quick prayer, a gesture and a ball of light flies into the Orc's face, blinding it from its surroundings. It cannot see, but it can hear another quick prayer. It can feel the bolt of magic slamming into it, the force sending it stumbling back, off the cliff wall. The last thing it feels is the sharp, spiked rock it falls on, impaling him trough the gut.

    The wanderer takes his blade out of the dead orc, cleaning off its tainted blood. The sun has just begun to shine across the plain. His night of prayer is finished.