3. Stories of Kanen Hightower

Stories of Kanen Hightower


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 4

    _I sit here, as the early morning light shines in through the open window and my eyes are drawn to the form of Shay, still sleeping, curled on her bed. A bed that we had both shared the previous night. The night was one filled with passion and of love, as we expressed our love to each other fully and completely. It was beyond anything I could have thought or imagined, it has sealed our bond of love. However, this morning, I cannot but help feel a new slightly coldness in the pit of my stomach.

    I begin to see how my father must have felt, as he sent us away that last night, to save us from something that he was willing to face, but was unable to allow us to risk, I think. I remember how pale his face looked, how he hurried us along and watched as we faded into the distance, seemingly glad to see us leave, but now I understand better his feelings, I think.

    I begin to see that love is both strength and yet vulnerability, as I cannot bear to think of harm coming to Shalia, especially if it were to be of because of me in any way or form. I find my mind thinking now of how to protect and keep safe two instead of just myself. I will give my life for her if needed, and do so gladly. Now each day will include concern and worry for her as well as myself, but I find myself only tremendously happy and willing to bear this new responsibility without regret or such thoughts.

    I add now something that occurred only some few minutes ago, as I still lay sleeping next to my Shay, her body still draped on mine. I dreamed that as I lay in the darkness a sound awoke me. The window was slowly drawn open by some unseen hand, then a figure, hooded in a heavy robe entered the room and walked slowly to the foot of our bed, looking down at our naked forms. I attempted to move, to shout out warning, to do anything, but found myself frozen, unable to move. Shay only stirred slightly next to me, shivering slightly in my arms.

    The figure stared at her for some moments, looking at her from head to toe, and I heard a slight raspy breath coming from the hood. The figure then stared at me for some moments, baleful malevolence emanating invisible but palpable to me. Slowly moving to my side of the bed and crouching next to me, the figure loomed. My movements were restricted to blinking and moving my eyes, otherwise completely frozen, as though in fear or by magic.

    The voice that issued from the robe was barely above a whisper, raspy and raw, and seemed full of hatred and perhaps madness. The voice uttered:

    “The son shall know sorrow…and pain. He is beyond searching or finding. I have paid the full price, yes the full price. He will remain as he is forever more. The son must leave and end the searching or only more pain and death will result. The warning has been given.” I then felt a sharp pain in my chest, as though icy claws were clutching at my heart, yet again I was unable to move or even cry out. The figure then turned without a further word and seemed to drift to the window and then out, the sounds of the early morning suddenly returning, and the sun barely visible on the horizon.

    I awoke, and slowly extricated myself from Shalia, drawing a sheet over her form, as I sat to begin to write this log. What sends a slight chill down my spine however, are two things. I do not remember the window being opened last night, and yet, the sun is streaming in…and as I open my robe and look down at my chest I see a dark mark, apparently etched into my flesh. The symbol is very familiar to me and yet fills me with some measure of dread. Why have I been marked with the Eye of Helm? I will pray now to Torm for wisdom and guidance in this matter, and for his protection for both myself and Shay from whatever this may mean._


  • 4000!

    I really can't believe that my stories have been viewed that many times. I just wanted to thank everyone that has bothered to read them, and I only hope that some of you have found them at least mildly entertaining. I know I've enjoyed (and continue to do so) writing them a great deal.

    Hard to believe, but they cover a time period going back to December of 2002, back in Build 7.

    I'm not trying to pat myself on the back here, just say thanks to you all who have been reading the adventures of Kanen, his friends, and now young Durai. I've always tried to make them a mixture of mostly what happens in game, but include some external elements, thoughts, feelings and dreams to the mix.

    Who knows how much longer this will go on, but for however long, I know I've enjoyed writing them, and encourage anyone who has ever enjoyed writing to try it at least once. Stories can really help shape and develop your characters in the minds of your fellow players and in your own mind as well.

    Anyhow, just wanted to say…. THANKS!


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 3

    _Looking back at my first entry, I see that I left some unanswered questions. Shay and I went into ‘my’ house, though I think of it as my father’s, not mine. It seemed somewhat strange to be inside the house where I grew from infant to child to young adult. What was even more strange was the silence. No sounds of Revanna or my boy-hood self stomping around the house, yelling and fighting with each other. No sound of the voice of my mother singing her sweet songs, no sound of my father sharpening his enchanted sword, or polishing his armor. Only silence.

    There was a layer of dust over most of the house, the furniture still covered by the hastily thrown sheets by my mother right before we left that day some three years ago. We looked through the empty house, and Shay mentioned that she felt something just didn’t seem right about the place. She mentioned it was if all the good memories of the house had been perverted or corrupted somehow. I didn’t disagree, it did feel strange, though I had thought only I had the feeling.

    Searching room to room, we finally found something. We weren’t able to retrieve it then, but returned later with Sam, Ishar, and Lady Elinah and were able to do so. I’m being vague on purpose, in case this log should fall into the hands of those that seem to be seeking information, or attempting to hide such information, as we later found. A near miracle occurred while Sam was praying in the house of my father, however. A bright light appeared and it seemed to spread out and cover every surface in every room. The light faded, and the strangeness in the house seemed to be gone, or at least temporarily removed.

    We left the house with what we found, and took it to someone who may or may not be able to help us learn what it might mean. May Torm grant us the wisdom to learn it’s secrets. Something very disturbing happened only a few days after this. Apparently, Sam received a note while in Peltarch that he was needed as his hill, and when he arrived there found someone claiming to be my own father. What is most upsetting is that apparently this man was dressed as my father, in silver and blue armor that looked like his own, but acted very different, demanding information from Sam, and beating him terribly when Sam would not answer, leaving as quickly as he came.

    Once Sam was conscious again and able, he came to Norwick to look for me, to tell me this news. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I took the news very poorly, sure that if my father was here, everything else could be explained, somehow. Perhaps Sam had angered my father somehow, some action, some word, a simple misunderstanding. I only wanted to go see him for myself. Sam was forced to use physical force to restrain me, indeed, I lay sprawled out in the mud on the road by the north gate, Sam pressing on top of me, when I finally realized how childish I was being. Sam was right. My father would not act this way, no matter the cause. Therefore, the man could not be my father. The fact he came looking for Sam seems to mean that someone still wants something, or wants something to remain hidden. I pray to Torm for guidance and wisdom concerning this mystery. This caused me to become quite depressed and sullen, wondering at the power of the enemies arrayed against me, and if I would ever be able to learn my father’s fate.

    While my spirits were at the their blackest, feeling so poorly about myself and doubting if this journey would bring me any closer to answer the questions I so needed answered, she walked up to me, apparently having heard of what had occurred, offering her shoulder and arms to hold me. I know that no matter what else this journey may find, I found a woman that I love and know that she loves me. Using her gentle voice and kind words, she helped lift me from my black depression, indeed, lifting me into soaring with the clouds once more, as I feel when Shay is in my arms. We only seem to grow closer each day we spend together, no matter if we are patrolling the woods, talking quietly of our lives and hopes, or entwined together in a passionate kiss. If she was truly sent by Torm, I can see it is to help me endure this savage place, and deal with whatever I mean learn, or have to go through to learn the truth of the fate of my father. With Shay by my side, little seems not possible or bearable.

    I suppose I should also mention that I was kidnapped for a short time by one of the twins called Shadowstrider, the one who had overheard my first admission of my true identity to Sam. Things seem to have worked out for the best, the foul man captured, and I’ve sent word to Waterdeep to send someone to take him there for questioning and probable trial concerning the death of his own father, a Paladin of Torm.

    Finally, just last eve, I encountered old Mr. Adam and Mrs. Maya, more friends of my father who had recently returned to these lands and did not know of my father’s disappearance. Mr. Adam was most kind to me, saying that he would use his self-proclaimed ‘considerable resources’ to seek out my father, reassuring me that people like my father do not simply disappear forever, that he would be found and returned. He even had a wondrous gift for me, something that I will keep until my father is found, then return it to him.

    After he and his wife Maya left, Miss Robyn happened along, asking me to watch over her house as she was setting out, herself to look for my father as well. She seemed quite wistful when she said cryptically that he ‘forgot his archer’ and that she would search for him, from here to Waterdeep, asking everyone along the way. After saying goodbye to her, I must admit my mood brightened a great deal, perhaps things were being set into motion that would find my father’s fate. I had heard my father say before that Mr. Adam knew many things, and could quickly find out what he did not. And Miss Robyn was a tracker of great skill. If anyone could follow the three year old trail, it would likely be she. I will pray to Torm for both of them, hoping that they succeed._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 2

    _It was a pleasant afternoon. The sun was shining brightly down on Shalia, my lovely blue-eyed, golden haired companion, the young woman who had confessed her to love to me, and I to her only some minutes before. We walked, hand in hand, blissfully happy in each other’s company, from Jiyyd, out into the Nars to head to Norwick. A shadow seemed to pass before the sun for a moment, and I looked up into the sky only to see one of the trained birds of the bandits swooping down at us with an aggressive cry. Releasing Shalia’s hand, I drew my sword, annoyed at the interruption to our pleasant walk, swatting at the flying attacker.

    Just as I connected soundly with the bird, leaving little more than blood and feathers, I heard Shalia cry out from behind me in surprise and pain. Whirling around, I saw two hooded women, with sharp daggers drawn, circling Shalia, and as I moved toward them, one plunged her small blade into Shalia’s back. Shalia’s face went pale, a trickle of blood on her soft lips, as she collapsed in the dirt with a weak cry. The ambush was well planned and executed, I remember briefly thinking.

    Both of these foul women laughed shrilly as if this was something of great humor and looked down at her with their red blades, ready to send the dying young woman off into oblivion, my Shay. By now, I was at her side, crouching on the other side than the two sneering women, and quickly thrust my hands toward my fallen love, praying to Torm to heal her and to aid us in this time of need. Seeing my intent, the two hooded women charged toward me with a snarl. I was struck by one, receiving a savage gash along my side, the blade apparently glancing along my ribs. However, I was able to complete my prayer and was rewarded with seeing Shalia, slowly sitting up and looking about, obviously dazed and weak, needing time to gather her senses, her belongings scattered out around her.

    Realizing that our attackers could at any time turn and see her sitting there, near helpless, I thought of a quick plan and prayed to Torm that it was the right thing to do. I shouted to the women, calling them various names that perhaps no good Tormite should, and saw that they were both quite angry and hot for my blood, so I turned and ran away, towards Norwick, glancing back to make sure that both were still chasing me.

    I led them some distance away from Shay, then turned and engaged both, meeting their anger with my own. I used my shield and my blade as my grandfather and father had instructed me, to block and avoid their attacks. Attacking was not important, I was buying time for Shay to gather her senses and said another prayer to Torm that these two were the extent of the ambush and that I had not left her to die alone. By luck, or perhaps by the grace of Torm, I saw an opening and struck one of the bandit women with my sword, opening a deep cut in one of her thighs, causing her to limp and favor the leg.

    This caused them to become more cautious and wary, now realizing that while I could not quickly strike them down as someone like my father could have done, they could not easily harm me either; an impasse of sorts. Just then, Shay came running toward us, sword drawn, eyes flashing fiercely, apparently intent on getting revenge on these two who had so nearly ended her young life. I called out to her to instead run and head for the town, knowing that these two battle-hardened bandit women could quickly turn the tides on us once again.

    Gritting her teeth, she complied, heading down the road toward Norwick, frequently looking over her shoulder, waiting for me to begin following her. Praying once again to Torm for assistance, I bashed my shield into the injured one, sending her into the other, both landing in the dirt heavily. Using this brief chance, I turned and fled, running toward Norwick, following Shay. The bandit women gave up a short distance later, apparently unwilling to get too close to the walls of Norwick, and shouting derisively at myself and Shay, which we wisely ignored and headed into the town, exhausted and worn, but alive. My prayers that night were long and full of thanks and gratitude to Torm for allowing both myself and the young woman I loved to survive the deadly ambush, where we could have easily both been killed and left for the carrion animals. May His will be done. And may Shay and I know happiness._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 1

    _I’ve decided to try my hand at keeping a personal log. I will leave it with the Friar, and in the case of my death, I’ve left instructions to have it sent to my mother and grandparents in Waterdeep. At least that way, they’ll have an idea of what my life was like here. Torm willing, however, it will include the rescue of my father, or at least an accounting of what his final fate was.

    I spent most of the last day in study in prayer, seeking first in all things to grow closer to my Lord, the Loyal Fury. I also spent some time out in the woods, doing my civic duty, attempting to help keep down the population of vile goblins that infest the forest to the south of town. During this patrol with Miss Green, my friend Nico, and a couple of others, we encountered others apparently intent on this same task. Sam was ever present, a large clanky, metal shadow nearby though attempting to be unobtrusive.

    I saw again Lady Elinah, met Sir Roland, and a few others in a group of hardy and lethal looking individuals. We also again saw the self-proclaimed chieftain Rick and met his charming fiancée named Aaimie. This demure woman, while perhaps not of noble birth or bearing had a melodious voice, which she used with great talent, though the songs she chose were common and somewhat base in nature. I could not get her songs and voice out of my head all day, I found myself humming about ale and beer, neither of which interest me to any great deal.

    The rest of the day and evening I spent in Jiyyd. I hadn’t wanted to return to the town, to be honest. It was where I grew up most of my life, but I had decided I wouldn’t go back there even as I planned my trip to Narfell. Of course Duty said otherwise. First Lady Alannia wished to speak to me privately in the temple of Helm, another place I had wished to avoid, strong memories abound there of my father as he used to take my sister and myself there for services when he was able. And though I brought the key as almost an afterthought, it seems I will be going back into my old home, the house of my father. Mother hinted that something just might be hidden in there, and I must summon the courage to go inside and search, may Torm grant me the strength.

    Instead, this evening I walked around the town, speaking to the adults that once towered over me, being forced to listen to embarrassing stories of how they changed my diapers or things I said or did while a child. They even brought up how Revanna and I had escaped poor Mera that time, and how Revenna had been captured and taken from the town, only thanks to Miss Robyn and a few others that Revanna was returned safely.

    Whenever I attempted to turn the conversation to questions of my father or when anyone had last seen him, however, the story seemed the same. He had disappeared a few years ago, the same time the rest of us seemed to, and had not been seen or heard from since. Quite disappointing and depressing. I know I’m avoiding going into the house itself, and I will very soon now. However, I think asking these questions was a worthwhile endeavor.

    I write this from a room at the Inn in Jiyyd. I know it must seem silly or ridiculous to some that I would get a room at the Inn when I have an entire house I can rightfully claim as my own…but I will not enter there alone. Call it whatever you want, something just doesn’t feel right, may Torm grant me wisdom and guidance.

    My final thoughts are on Shalia. I did not see her this day, but then my movements have been varied and I’ve spent a great deal of time outside the town itself, where she likely is. I have to admit I find myself wondering what she’s doing right now, and pray that she is safe. Sam is worried about her effect on me, and I must admit surprise at how she makes me feel when I’m near her, yet I am a priest of Torm first and above all things. His fatherly concern I appreciate, though he and I may have words soon concerning her. My own father knew that matters of the heart did not preclude one from their service to their Lord, as I am living proof. Tomorrow I go to the house. Torm willing, all will go well._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Keys and Dreams

    Durai looked at the two letters lying on his desk. One was from the Council of Jiyyd, saying that they had removed the extra lock from his family house and he was welcome to enter it any time he wished.

    The other was the response from his mother. She was obviously upset with him for running off as he did, but also glad to hear that he was doing well and congratulated him on his acceptance into the service to Torm, and that she was very proud of him, despite the circumstances.

    She further went on to say that she thought it was be best if he returned to her immediately, but realized he was his own man now and would make his own choices. On his queries of any information she might have been keeping, she wrote that she had gone over this her head many times in the many months that Kanen had been missing, but could only think of one possible thing she wished she had checked.

    In their house, somewhere, there was a secret compartment where Kanen at times would store sensitive information or dangerous items that he could not afford to lose or have lying about. Even she was unsure of exactly where this compartment was, saying that she had never really searched for it, as he had asked her not to. She finished the letter saying that she expected him to write soon and often if he refused to return to her, and that she would be praying for him and his father both, being in the dangerous realm known as Narfell, and for him to rely on Torm as his savior and for guidance always.

    After having read the letter for the third time, Durai allowed his thoughts to drift somewhat, glad that his mother was not too overly angry with him, at least apparently. He thought of a lovely young blonde lady named Shalia that he had recently met and was fast becoming acquainted with. He marveled at how he could feel both wonderful and yet very nervous when he was with her. He thought about their first passionate kiss and how wondrous that had felt as well, with a slight smile.

    Setting those pleasant thoughts aside, Durai realized that he would be visiting his home the next day, and this time permitted entry. As he drifted to sleep, he thought of what he might find inside, and prayed that it might help him find his father, who’s presence he missed so very much.

    In his dreams Durai saw Kanen standing in the middle of a vast and empty plain, and called out to him as he tried to run to his father, but never could reach him for some reason. No matter how loud or frantic he called out, the man in shining blue armor only stood still and mute.


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Arrival

    A young man, barely more than a boy, sits at a desk in a sparsely furnished room, yet another boarder for Friar Fred in Norwick. This particular boarder, tall in stature, thin of build, with piercing blue eyes, writes a letter by flickering candlelight, pausing at times as he gathered his thoughts and how to say what he needed to say. After speaking to Lady Alannia Diams, he realized he had caused his mother only more pain, more hurt, by leaving without saying where or when he was going, even though his intentions had been only to attempt to ease her pain. The young man mused a bit bitterly that little of his journey here, and his time spent since had gone according to his carefully made plans. Lady Alannia had also convinced him to give up his false name, and claim his true family name once, more; Durai Hightower

    He had arrived under an assumed name, Durron Hawkins. He was worried that whatever had befallen his father might still be watching for the return of the wife, or the children. And there was always Jubei to be wary of. The strange assassin from lands far east, his father’s mortal enemy who had always said he would take the children of the Paladin away, and the man who had once nearly killed his father, Kanen Hightower.

    Durai had been robbed almost as soon as he arrived into Norwick. Well actually, he had been swindled more than robbed, but the fact remained he found himself without most of his possessions, leaving only a bit of gold and the sword from his grandfather, the great Paladin of Torm. He was glad his grandfather had stressed the combat arts, especially defensive combat, and relied on this as he started to make his way in Narfell, patrolling against the goblins that plagued the Rallinswood. His priestly studies had fallen behind somewhat due to this martial training however, and Durai concentrated on this now, and soon felt Torm’s grace and power as he was accepted as priest to the Loyal Fury, a day he would always remember and treasure.

    Durai made some friends, hiding behind his false name, always watching the shadows for any threat, and keeping his ears open for any word of his father, yet though his name would be mentioned at times, never of any recent activities or sightings, only of deeds from the past, much to his disappointment. Two of the people that Durai became friends with, he felt closer to than the others. Nico Black was apparently a businessman of some sort, and Durai realized his aid to him was somewhat based on this, but Nico was obviously an honorable man, and dealt more than fairly with the young priest, Durai considered him a true friend.

    Another recent arrival to the town of Norwick was Alexander, a young pious Paladin of Tyr. Alexander and Durai got along well together, they would speak of their faith, and travel into the woods together in small groups to patrol the forest for goblins and slay them when found. Everyone knew that goblins bred like rabbits, and would swarm the town if their numbers were not kept down.

    In the weeks that followed, Durai eventually saw Sam, the gentle giant who was his father's former companion and family friend, and one day finally revealed who he truly was to Sam. Unfortunately, another was there in hiding and overheard this news and quickly left before either could stop the man. After this occured Durai realized his name was a secret no longer and would soon after to either hide somewhere or announce his name and trust in Torm and his father's friends to protect him.

    Returning to his letter, Durai tried to convey in his letter of his heartfelt feelings that he was sorry for running off and away from his mother and sister, and assurances that he was doing well in Narfell, he wrote of all that happened thus far. He further asked his mother for any information she might remember, no matter how small, any clues or hints she might have been keeping from her children on what might have happened to his father. Finishing the letter, he blew out the candle, undressed and jumped into the hard cot of his room. He would send out the letter tomorrow, and Torm willing, would receive a reply soon from his mother. As he had done every day since his father had gone missing, he prayed for him and for the hope of learning his father’s fate, then drifted into sleep.


  • EMPTY HOUSE

    Silanthas sat on the hillside, apparently enjoying a carefree, late evening snack, glancing about with a bored expression. However, Sil was actually watching the house below quite closely, looking for any sign of life or indication that someone remained inside the darkened building as evening quickly closed in.

    He had heard about it by pure chance. He was at the Regal, idly checking the patrons for any easy marks, when the young elven rogue had overheard an interesting conversation.

    _"Maybe we should see what Kanen Hightower thinks about this…"

    "Hightower? No one has seen him, his wife Seven, or either of their kids for weeks, maybe months now. Their house seems locked up tight. We'll have to deal with this on our own..."_

    Sil stopped listening at that point. He didn't care about whatever problem the two men seemed so concerned about. His mind was already working. Sil had spent some time here in Jiyyd. He was 'vacationing' here in small village to get away from the heat in Peltarch. His face was drawn on posters in Peltarch, he was 'wanted for questioning' about a string of break-ins in the rich quarter of the city. Of course 'wanted for questioning' was just a nice way to say the Black Dragon Knights and the City Guard wanted to put him on the rack and see how far they could stretch his elven spine…how was he to know his last house was owned by a close personal friend of one of the damned senators? Pushing the thought aside, Sil thought again on what the two men had discussed and how he might be able to use it to his advantage.

    There was a house near the Exotic shop simply known as the 'Hightower home' where some big shot Paladin-type, his uppidity wife and two almost-grown brats lived. Almost everyone in Jiyyd knew that. This big shot supposedly killed a lot of so-called monsters, been to a lot of places, faced death and died a few times. Even his wife was supposedly, at least once upon a time, an adventurous sort, killing and healing in the name of her god.

    What this meant to Sil was that Mr. Paladin and his missus probably had a good deal of loot hidden away in their apparently humble home. Why else would they have really risked their lives and faced danger so much if not for loot that they probably kept for themselves? No other reason would make much sense to the elven rogue.

    So Sil made himself a plan and over a period of days and weeks slowly and subtly started asking questions about the empty house and their owners. Just a question here and there, nothing obvious, just an apparent mild curiousity is all he revealed to anyone he spoke to. Sil liked more and more what he was hearing.

    The so-called holy knight would often be away for days, even weeks at at time, leaving wife and children at home, off smiting evil or whatever. What was so unusual was that the fact the wife, kids and the Paladin were gone. And it seemed that no one had actually seen or talked to any of them in weeks...months...maybe even longer.

    It seems in this jerk-water little village no one had thought it strange that the owners of the house hadn't been seen in what Sil believed might possibly be a year or more. What it meant to to the rogue was...opportunity. And so he had started watching the quiet house. He would sit on the hillside, not too close, but near enough to see if anyone entered or left, and never saw a single person, no matter what day or time it was. He watched the house off and on for days, all with the same result.

    Sil's favorite fantasy scenario was that after he quietly broke in he'd find all four dead in the house, leaving everything they owned and wore to his selection. It remained a possibility, since no one remembered seeing them pack up and leave, but his pessimistic nature told him to dream on. What was likely, however, is that for whatever reason the 'holy Hightowers' had left, they probably couldn't have carried everything of value with them, leaving in such a rush. So there would probably be some valuables just waiting for him to 'discover'.

    And so here he was. Crouched down in front of the door to the Hightower house, the gathering darkness hiding his slim frame from any eyes that might be looking in this direction. Using the tools of his trade, he began to work on the expensive lock on the door. After some minutes of muttered cursing he finally felt the lock open. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door, revealing a doorway leading into a hall, dark as night, and he felt a slight chill as he stepped through the doorway. He almost screamed when the hand descended on his shoulder and held him firmly from behind.

    "Stop yer strugglin' ye damned thief!"

    The Watchman held firm onto the thin bones of the rogue's shoulder, holding him in place. The Watchman had noticed the interest of the stranger in the Hightower home for days now, and had seen him watching the house, and been told the stranger asked some unusual questions about the missing Paladin and his family. The thief stopped his struggling and raised his arms high, surrendering peacefully.

    "Did ye think ye could jus' come to our lil' town and no one would notice ye?"

    The guardsman chuckled as he tied the rogue's hands behind him securely.

    "Ye may see our lil' town as some hick village, but we look out for our own."

    The Watchman forced the rogue out into the street roughly, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Turning, he looked into the darkened shadows of the empty house, seeing only an uninhabited house, no sign of it's owners apparent.

    Did something just move in the shadows? There…in the corner...

    Suppressing a shudder, the Watchman closed the door forcefully, quickly resealing the lock. Muttering to himself, he half-dragged the rogue down the street, glancing only once back at the empty house, chuckling at how he had allowed his fears make something out of nothing. Though it was pretty weird how they had all just up and disappeared.

    The house known as the Hightower home continued to sit silent and empty for many further days, weeks and even months as the seasons passed. The mystery surrounding it's owners' fate still remains.


  • DENIED

    On the final evening of the last day of the month, the Paladin arrayed himself in his armor, having polished and shined it with what failing strength he had remaining. The month had been very hard. Each day Kanen had felt weaker, wracked by coughs, suffering from increasingly frequent chills, fever and pain. And always, just out of the corner of his eye, the knight could see it. The dark creature with bright teeth and sharp claws that only he could see, as it impatiently bided it’s time, waiting for the final day to finish, to feed on his soul.

    Kanen sat in his chair, before the fireplace, waiting, wondering if the next breath he drew would be his last. Seven sat at his side, her blue eyes dry now, showing the strength and resolve that she possessed. She apparently had steeled herself for the end, she would be there by his side, even if this would be their last day together. The children had been sent over to a friend’s house to stay, Kanen had said his good nights and good byes to them, though they had not known nor been told the importance of this day.

    The bargain had been made without his consent or approval, yet Kanen could feel it’s weight, it’s finality. Either he was to bring the Holy sword, ‘Ever Vigilant’ to the dark knight, or he would die within the month, the month ending this very day. He would never surrender the blade, nor even it’s location. That it was safe was all he would reveal, and so it would remain, forever barring the return of that which it warded.

    Seven and Kanen sat silently in their chairs by the fireplace, waiting. Seven watched him closely, praying silently, keeping her emotions well in check. There would be time for that later. As it approached midnight, he felt it. A stirring. The dark, hungry creature that only he could see was no longer sitting still, it began pacing, emitting a low growl.

    Finally, it struck, as he sat limply in the chair, drained of strength and life, his features pale and drawn. The pain he had felt before seemed as nothing compared to the agony he felt now. The creature was shredding him, ignoring armor and even flesh as it shred and devoured the life force from his body. Kanen writhed about in the chair, shouting and screaming in pain, each ragged breath only more agonizing than the last.

    He fell from the chair to the floor, unable to see or hear anything around him, unable to hear Seven’s cries and prayers for his life. He saw only darkness, he felt only pain, his body writhing and thrashing as he threw himself about on the floor. Each breath, each moment was white hot agony. Through the torture, through the pain, Kanen began to realize something with both horror and the barest hope. The Paladin had already endured more than anything he had ever felt before, including the deaths he had been returned from. His mind felt ready to snap from the constant, overpowering pain, yet he continued to draw one ragged breath after another between screams. He could see the shadowy, invisible creature lying on him, it’s head buried in his chest as it devoured his life force with savage fury, yet it seemed he would not die.

    That’s when he finally understood. The knights of his Order had made the deal, that Kanen would turn over the sword or die in one month’s time, consumed by this dark creature. However they had made a deal with something they did not own. Helm had decided to not allow it. While Kanen was forced to endure everything the creature had, every attempt to end his spark of life, the pain ending release of death was being denied the Paladin.

    He was Kanen Hightower, Paladin of Helm. His master, his Lord was not willing to abide by the bargain. Kanen had no choice other than to endure. What seemed like hours, perhaps even days, but was likely much less passed. He wanted to pray for death, to pray for the release, but would not. He was a Paladin, and never realized what that meant more than in those moments. He was the servant of Helm. He was the warrior and champion of his Lord. His will, his desires, his life, always had been, and always would be, second to the service to Him.

    At long last a bright light threw the creature from him, back into the shadows and darkness, at last ending the pain, as the knight descended into a soothing unconsciousness, into a deep, deep sleep as he lay in his armor, limbs twisted, on the hard wooden floor. A terrified and anxious Seven slowly realized that he still lived and apparently needed now only rest. Opening the front door, she asked for help from those waiting outside, to help get him to the bed, and told them that Kanen still lived.

    The Paladin slept many days and nights straight through, yet was apparently, ever so slowly, regaining his strength and vitality. A worn and tired Seven stayed by his side, watching over him, until one day, over a week later, the knight’s eyes slowly opened. His eyes seemed different, changed and marked by the ordeal he had endured. He smiled weakly up at her, and she down at him. A new day dawned.


  • THE DEAL

    His breathing was labored. Since returning both to life and from that place, simply breathing was at times a challenge. Most of them had become diseased or stricken with some illness since being there. Paladins were immune to the ravages of disease and illness. But not this.

    I've failed. I've failed us all. Although the others say otherwise, I know better.

    The duel with the dark knight had been a joke. Although Kanen had called upon his Lord Helm for His might and His protection, although Kanen had prepared himself to the best of his abilities, it had been pathetic. The dark knight quickly had cut him down, barely wounded in the effort.

    As Kanen had felt the knight's sharp steel pierce his heart, he knew only the dispair of failure. His vision dimmed, his ears echoing with the laughter from the dark knight. Then the darkness had enveloped him completely.

    His next breath was one he never expected to draw, but was in the foul, dark atmosphere of the caverns. He was lying at the top of the stairs, wondering how he was breathing at all. He had been dead. The dark knight had said failure meant death, so how was he breathing once again?

    Blinking, Kanen slowly sat up and looked into the faces of his companions, those who he had failed. Their looks were guarded and they remained silent, looking back at him. The knight however, was chuckling. He said simply that the others had struck a deal with him, and that is why Kanen drew breath once again.

    With dawning horror, Kanen asked the others what had they done? What sort of deal had they made with this dark champion of evil? Laughing once again, the knight reminded the others that the deal was done and would be fulfilled, one way or another and left.

    Demanding once again they tell him what they had done, finally Kanen was told that they had made a deal with the dark knight. The deal was that Kanen had exactly one month to live. He could either voluntarily hand over the Holy sword Ever Vigilant, the sword of Faramir, or he would be dead in that time.

    Slowly standing, Kanen breathed a sigh of relief, glad that they had not risked themselves in this. If he concentrated he could feel it. A darkness surrounded him, at the edges of his vision, as though something with sharp teeth was biding it's time, waiting, but ever ready to tear him apart with sharp teeth and sharp claws.

    Forcing himself to look at the others, he heard coughing and teeth chattering from most of the others, as he felt himself. Kanen felt more like laying down and simply giving up. Letting his life end here once and for all in this dark place, leaving the eternal struggle to others. He felt so tired, so weak…instead taking a deep breath, he gave the others his thanks, and that at least he would have a month to say goodbye to those who he cared about.

    They made their way back out of that place, back up to the temple above and found the 'High Watcher' gone, the door unlocked. Kanen sat heavily against a pillar and looked about the room when he finally saw her. Her eyes looked as if she had been crying, her red hair disheveled. Robyn hurried to his side and asked what had happened, what was wrong, what could she do...smiling faintly, Kanen simply sat there musing. He listned to his own labored breathing, then coughed until his vision almost dimmed.

    He had a month. He had vowed to never give over the Holy sword. It was in a safe place and he would not reveal it's location to anyone. At least he would have a chance to say goodbye.


  • FIRST SORTIE

    Standing in the temple, mentally preparing for the battle that lay before them, Kanen looked at each of the others briefly. Ishar, the gentle knight. He was now leader of the Order of the Divine Shield, since Shane’s death. Roland, the brother Helmite Paladin that Kanen identified best with among this group of near strangers who were yet his brothers and sisters. Elinah, the only female Paladin with them this day, a fine Paladin that Kanen had known for a long time, though never closely. Cyrus, affable and quietly capable priest of Torm. Handryl, a knight that Kanen had never met before today. Finally, there was Kharbeh. The elven woman was difficult to predict and her humor was often at the expense of others, yet Kanen knew that the boisterous, near ancient yet child-like woman had a good heart. Also, there were very few finer scouts to be found in the land. Her ability to sense the well hidden and find a way to open the unopenable was very well known to Kanen. She was also a friend that he had known for many, many years.

    Together, they all went down into the catacombs below the temple. The shadows there were at first strange, but then became sentient and attacked. The knights fought shadows, shades, undead and even men, slaying all in their righteous anger, cleansing the tombs of the hidden evil. The men were found to be cultists, at least one of which a member of the Black Hand company. The others appeared to have links to Myrkul, the dead god of the dead.

    This all seemed too familiar. They found the bodies of three children in three different rooms. Each the apparent victim of some dark ritual, surrounded by profane symbols and runes. Each child looked similar. Light colored hair, all about the same age. About the age that poor Liam was killed, Kanen was almost sure. Also, approximately the age of his own children now. That thought sent a shiver through the Paladin, yet he put the thought aside for now.

    In one room, they found a statue, one with claws and an evil countenance, not something that belonged in the house of Helm at all. In indignant, righteous anger, Kanen used his sword, the wickedly, razor sharp blade “Fanged Justice” that was made of the near-mythical metal adamantite. With this sword he could cut through stone if need be, and methodically hacked the stone statue into rubble. In the rubble Kharbeh spotted a gem, one with seven sides, each side marked by some rune. It was given over to Kanen’s care for now. He placed it in his pack after a brief examination.

    They crossed pits, escaped traps thanks to the skills of the ever observant Kharbeh, and fought specters, skeletal devourers, and worse in their slow, methodical clearing of room after room of the catacombs. Kanen was determined to remove every bit of evil presence from this place, before it would be given the chance to fester and boil over once more. So every corner was checked. Every coffin opened. They prayed the dead and the gods would understand their need. When Kanen concentrated, he could feel the evil still. But it’s source was below them, somehow. They would need to find a way to descend further into the dark earth, into secret, hidden areas of the catacombs that perhaps even the builders of the temple were unaware. That thought bothered Kanen, but he could not immediately understand why, so set it aside as they continued.

    In one room they found a portal of light, yet after some simple tests, decided to pass it by at least for now, not knowing where it might lead, perhaps simply to a quick death. The halls and rooms were a constant battleground, requiring constant vigilance, attacks coming from both before and behind them. Protected by their prayers and spells from their gods, the knights and the scout continued to press on, never wavering from their goal of clearing the catacombs, and finding the source of this hidden evil that remained somehow below them.

    In one room, filled with sarcophagi, something was nagging at Kanen as Roland talked of being here before, and how keys were found here that allowed them to continue their quest at that time. Kanen stood silently, ignoring everyone around him letting the nagging thought come forward and began to concentrate. What had he said before…that the builders of these tombs must not have known that something might lay below these catacombs….looking at the walls around him, it suddenly became clear. These catacombs were not made by the builders of Jiyyd and the temple above…they were much older…and more disturbing still, appeared very similar to the dark halls of the city of the dead, Mintas Rhelgor!

    Kanen quickly told the others of his realization, Kharbeh seemed the least surprised, perhaps already coming to the same conclusion on her own. The knights prepared to enter and clear the final room of the known catacombs, still unable to find any passage below except the ominous portal that may well have be another death trap.

    They entered the room and were immediately surrounded by a cloying, burning cloud of vapor, draining them all of their strength and fighting ability. Stumbling forward, his eyes blurred Kanen walked into yet another trap, one of deadly sharp blades emerging from the very stones of the floor. Before he could react, the knight was cut deeply by one blade, then his leg was near severed by another. Stumbling backward, still choking on the fumes of the poison around them, he drug his now useless leg away from the deadly blades, a specter saw the blood-soaked knight and moved to quickly finish the mortal with an gleeful howl.

    However, Cyrus, priest of Torm, saw the bloody knight and healed him of all wounds with a mighty prayer. Thanking Cyrus, Kanen returned to the battle, just as the others were finishing the last of the foes there, both undead and men. As they carefully searched the room, each of the knights felt the same thing. The temple above was under some dark attack at that very moment. Moving quickly, the knights returned to find the door locked that led to the temple. Kanen once again used his ever sharp blade to destroy the door, and they all quickly moved upstairs to find the High Watcher near death, surrounded by the bodies of more men in dark robes.

    After healing the man, it was decided they would rest and regroup for the day, as everyone was weary from the effort spent thus far, and likely they faced still stronger challenges ahead. Wishing everyone a restful evening, Kanen left the temple, squinting in the bright daylight outside. Removing his helmet, the knight walked west through the graveyard, and noticed a light on in Robyn’s house after many months of it being empty.

    Knocking on the door, Kanen smiled as Robyn opened the door. Just as he started to tell her of the strange things that had been going on, he noticed another person, a man that Kanen knew, already in the house with Robyn. Smiling wider, he heard Robyn say that she was talking business and was too busy to talk now. Nodding at her, the Paladin simply told her to ask him sometime of what they had found below the temple and quietly turned and left, the smile still on his face.

    Hopefully, the man inside the house had finally wisened up and told Robyn of his obvious feelings for her. If he would make her happy, Kanen would be glad indeed, as he knew Robyn deserved much. And if the man would hurt Robyn…well, it wouldn’t be the first bard that the Paladin had challenged to a duel. Chuckling softly he made his way down the hill and back to his home where Seven and the children waited for his return.

    Tonight there would be much needed rest, meditation and prayer. Tomorrow would take care of itself, Helm willing.


  • House Tainted

    When I entered the temple of Helm I felt a disturbing darkness, though faint, about the altar. After having found and removed that, darkness resides still, apparently from the crypts below. Some speak of a revenant, which brought me back to my memories of my test by Helm so many years ago, within those musty dark crypts.

    Could this be the spirit of the fallen Paladin Faramir, attempting to come claim his sword once again? Some even thought it might be Shane, yet that makes little sense, as she has earned her eternal reward, watching at our Lord's side. Questions and mysteries. I will go with others of the Order and find the cause. The House of my Lord must be clean. We cannot allow ourselves to fail. This must be why I have been allowed to return home at this time. I am needed and will serve, as always.


  • I woke last night from a dream. I cannot remember any details, other than it had to do with that damned holy sword. While it may sound strange to put both words together to describe something, the Sword of Faramir, the blade 'Ever Vigilant', is indeed both a Holy sword of my Lord Helm and yet blackly cursed.

    Cursed in how it must be used and maintained. Cursed in that the ones who tricked me so well will do and sacrifice anything to have it release that which it holds. The sacrifice of a boy was nothing to them, and I worry daily for the lives of my own children, and of my wife, that they might try to use them against me in some way.

    They know that only I know. They know where I am. I pray to Helm I will have the strength to withstand this. I will stay vigilant and ready, but I can almost hear them scurrying about in the darkness, just out of sight…at least for now.


  • WORN

    It has been years now, since what we believed was the destruction of the Crystallis Draco. Of course, we were wrong, as the coming of Astrid should have shown us. Seven returned to me, having never actually left, saving me from myself, from losing everything I was and everything I valued. I had not failed Him nor her. However, the line between victory and failure had become very blurred. She had saved me before I failed, I had not saved myself. I can’t help but wonder at times what my life would have been like if she had not, what life Robyn and I would have had, and could we ever have known happiness at the price that would have been required.

    However, as soon as I saw her face once again, bright blue eyes framed by her golden hair, I knew. I had been drowning and had not seen the water. I had been standing on the edge of a cliff and did not see the fall that I would not return from, as I leaned further and further forward. She said she understood. And asked for me to forgive her for her deception, having never really left. She and I came together once more, never to be separated again until final death take us.

    I decided I was not the strength that the temple and the Order needed, stepping aside for Shane on whom Helm’s watchful light shined brightly, she was more than worthy of the mantle of leadership that I was no longer. The weeks and months passed, the children growing and learning of our Patrons, our Lords, Helm and Torm both. I became the combat and weapons instructor for the temple, serving quietly, helping the novice priests and paladins to learn to defend themselves and their charges, and spending time at my home with Seven and the children, aiding in their education and simply spending the time with them that I had thought gone forever.

    When the cultists in Mintas Rhelgor killed Shane and challenged and dared me to come forth, I smiled, though grimly. When younger, I would have boldly burst forth alone, arrayed in my might and strength and faith that Helm would see me to victory. Now, older, perhaps wiser, certainly scarred from the lessons of experience, I instead slowly gathered old friends, and allies of the Order, before we went into that place, and brought the broken body of Shane the leader of the Order out safely, having nearly destroyed the power of the cultists in the process. I watched as she was raised once more, and again faded into the background, thanking the Watcher for my chance to play a part in her return.

    When it was learned the Drow had captured Rith, priestess of Lathander, and I was asked to go to that terrible place and attempt to return her, I went, and fought along side Shane, and many old friends. We were both victorious and yet had failed, a bitter taste of ashes that I was not unfamiliar with. Rith had been saved, yet Norwick lay in burning ruins when we emerged, thinking we were victorious.

    I continue to serve Him to this day, as a trainer of the young, and of my own young. I watch and listen, and stay ready when needed. At times I travel from the lands of Narfell when I receive visions that I must, I go where I am directed, do as I am instructed, and return home to my wife and family once more, never speaking of these things, as I have also been instructed. Seven understands this and never asks about these times having the faith in me as she has always. The faith that saved me.

    I do not feel broken, yet worn. I feel at times like a sword that has been nicked and dulled somewhat by all that I have done and experienced in my time in this place, yet I am a sword that still has an edge and still has use, and will continue to maintain my quiet readiness as my Lord directs. I will stay ready to answer the call the when needed until He takes me home at last, finally absolved of my sins and errors of my mortal life.


  • MINDS

    I was wrong. Despite my preparations for war, I never swung my sword once, nor received a single cut or bruise during our second foray into the Temple of the White Wraith Order. It was much worse than that. Instead, myself, Robyn, Vino, Equinox, Delvana, Talgris and the man Troth were locked together in the mind of the reborn creator of the dread Crystallis Draco orb, Ezah Naerus. We all faced death if he failed, as our minds were ‘encased’ inside his, in some strange way. Yet he swore he would destroy the orb once our mission was completed.

    With Mel’hrus and Jubei gone from the Temple, it was believed to be lightly guarded. This turned out to be mostly true. Naerus was blinded during the entry into the Temple, something he had known would happen, thus at least one reason for our presence. We were not there physically as it was beyond his abilities, apparently, so instead, our minds traveled with his…and each other.

    To say the experience was strange would be an immense understatement. I have never experienced anything such as this before, and hope never to again. The thoughts of his reptilian mind were both alien and mostly blocked from our ability to read or understand. However, the thoughts and feelings of my fellow travelers were somewhat more open to understanding. Once each of us realized the nature of this strange link, we ‘retreated’ behind walls attempting to keep our thoughts and feelings private from each other.

    However, I felt Robyn’s presence hovering closely near mine during most of this ordeal. I found her gentle presence both comforting and yet somewhat disturbing, as we all were sharing a mental bond, a connection beyond what most mortals are able to share with one another, and I felt the connection with her the strongest, as her thoughts and feelings she kept open to me. I felt her feelings of love for me, but attempted to my focus my thoughts on the mission at hand.

    The entry into the Temple was made easy by the arcane talents of the wizard Naerus, yet difficult by his inability to see, relying on the directions of our minds; we were somehow able to see through his eyes though he could not. There were precipices and bridges to safely navigate, and sorceresses and assassins in our path, yet we dealt with all as required and made our way into the temple proper.

    Inside the temple, there were additional guards, but all were slain by Naerus’ dark arcane powers. We knew we had to move as hurriedly as we could afford, as the alarm was now raised, and who knew what forces were already on their way to defend the temple and the Crystallis Draco. We found rooms with strange patterns of glyphs etched into their floors and soon realized they were the key to reaching the hidden orb.

    I remembered a note that Roubanes had written down during his mission here in the temple. The note gave four compass directions to follow, but then said to ‘reverse and appose’ them. It also ominously mentioned that all other paths led to death. We argued back and forth about the riddle, realizing we only had one chance to get the order correct.

    We were almost certain the four directions were concerning the four rune patterns we had found in four separate rooms. It seemed each pattern must be entered and traversed, but in the proper order, or death would result. It was Robyn that realized that the directions were partly a riddle as ‘reverse and appose’ would negate each other, meaning that we should follow the original set of directions.

    We had Naerus follow our instructions, quite tensely, waiting at any moment to be blasted to oblivion, yet after each rune was traversed, we would hear a click and continued along our chosen path. Finally we reached the last rune and as Naerus crossed it, we were suddenly somewhere else, in a circular room without a door. Instructing Naerus to again follow the pattern, it appeared. The seemingly harmless orb that had caused so much death, bloodshed and horror since it’s presence had cursed the lands of Narfell. Naerus picked up his orb with a dark smile and we were transported back into the main temple.

    I’ll admit I expected treachery and betrayal from the Orb’s creator, as he grew quieter, not answering our questions once he had his orb in hand. His first act was to summon the dread dracoliche that was bonded to the Orb and instructed it to seek out those who had used the Orb for their own purpose and to destroy them with the plague they had attempted to control. Without a word, the terrible beast disappeared, leaving Naerus alone in the temple, saying that Mel’hrus and all of her order would now pay.

    I began insisting that he destroy the Orb now, sure that he would now betray us, perhaps trapping us forever somehow, yet he instead returned to where our physical bodies had been left and we felt the disorientation as we were indeed once more restored to our separate bodies. With a near shout I drew my sword as fast as I was able and stood before Naerus demanding he keep his bargain and destroy the Orb now. I told him I was prepared to die rather than see that cursed Orb ever used again.

    He only laughed darkly and told me to calm myself. The others gathered nearby, each of us adjusting to being inside our own bodies once more. Naerus then said there was only one way the Orb could be destroyed. Someone would have to sacrifice their life, their soul to destroy the thing. He chuckled that he no longer had a soul and could not do this himself, though he would be destroyed in the Orb’s unmaking.

    I calmly stepped forward saying that I would do this. To remove this Orb from the face of the world was worth such a sacrifice I knew in my heart, even if it meant the end of my existence forever. Robyn stepped forward then, arguing with me about how I had too much to live for, my children, my service to Helm, and that instead she should be the one to destroy it. Then the others began saying that they too, would be willing to sacrifice their lives in the destruction of the Crystallis Draco.

    During this arguing back and forth, they arrived. Steele and Marin slowly walked up to us, Marin looking at the Orb with a deep sadness in her eyes, though she seemed calm and near emotionless. She spoke above our voices, saying simply that since the Orb had been the charge of her family for many years that she would be the one to unmake it at last. Her family’s service would end here with the destruction of the Orb and herself.

    I quietly began to argue that she had sacrificed and suffered enough, yet she said simply this was a matter of honor and her fate. I could not argue with that. She was strangely linked to the cursed Orb, I knew, as her family had guarded it for many years. With few other words she stepped forward next to Naerus and struck at the Orb, destroying it in a single blow, as she and Naerus faded into nothing.

    Most strange of all, after the Orb was utterly destroyed a woman appeared in a flash of blinding light. She seemed both weak and yet powerful, lost yet full of obvious power. Her beauty was striking. Fairest golden hair and purple eyes. She spoke her name but once when asked…Astrid. She suddenly disappeared again in a flash of light and was gone, though not for long I would later learn.

    We all left then, a glowing feeling of accomplishment in our hearts, knowing we had destroyed a great evil and kept many innocents safe this day. The Wasting, the Blood Rot would trouble us no more. Robyn and I made our way back to Jiyyd together, walking side by side. She said something I could not deny. She mentioned that she had shared a bond, a connection that no other woman ever had with me, and that she would always remember it. I simply nodded quietly as we entered the gates of Jiyyd and home.


  • RESOLVE

    I knelt in the temple, preparing myself mentally for war. She had made her error at last. Overconfidence in herself and the defenses of the White Wraith temple. She had murdered over ten thousand, if the reports proved to be true with the hideous plague unleashed upon more than one city. However, the orb had to remain within her temple, far from her reach. This was our chance. She was not there, nor was Jubei. The mysterious third remained just that, but nothing had been heard of her.

    I awaited only word from my brother Paladin Steele, or even from the dread creator of the Crystallis Draco Ezah Nearus. Vino had reported that he might have found an entrance to her lair. We would go there and wrest control of the dread orb from those she had left behind to guard it, or die in the attempt. Her evil could not be allowed to continue, she was growing ever stronger, with latest reports of her army over seven thousand strong.

    My thoughts turned to my internal turmoil and I steeled myself there as well. Seven was and always would be the love of my life. Though things were strained between us, she was the mother of my children and the woman I had sworn a bond to before her and the gods. Whatever misplaced feelings I may have been feeling were just that. Robyn was someone very close to me, I had always tried to protect her since she first came to this place so many years ago, and I would continue to do so.

    I would not shun her for her feelings towards me, I knew fate had not been kind to her, first with Falcon leaving her, then the folly of falling for the fool Marcus. I now knew how she felt about me, which may have confused me somewhat for a bit, but I would control whatever emotions this might cause. She would realize her mistake soon enough, and find someone worthy of her affections.

    As a Paladin of Helm I was accustomed to controlling my emotions and feelings, putting Duty before all. I could not fail in something as simple as this, could I?


  • THE TOUCH

    I strode into the temple, not knowing what I’d find. The temple of Lathander had been attacked again, so once this was dealt with, I had rushed back to Jiyyd and the temple of Helm. What I found there both shocked and angered me. Three dead acolytes, their blood and internal organs spread throughout the temple…and the altar had been smashed into many pieces.

    I was livid in anger and sorrow for the slain innocents, here in the House of Helm. Myself, Orania, and Sam, and a few others, took care of the bodies and cleaned up what we could of the blood and gore. I then fell on my knees, before His statue, as the altar was no longer there, closed my eyes and began to pray…asking for His guidance in what we should do to end these attacks and not allow these heretics to desecrate His home.

    I think we all decided to do the same, with heads bowed, we all prayed. It started as a light that shone from the ceiling of the temple, where the altar had been, and the light grew brighter and brighter. I know this from the words of Orania and some of the others, as my eyes were still tightly closed, my head bowed in fervent prayer.

    Then…He appeared. He was arrayed in platinum armor, fully helmed, of course. My eyes were still closed until I heard His voice…a voice I heard only once before in my years of service to Him. I opened my eyes to be near overwhelmed with awe as I looked upon the power, the might, the glory of the Eternal Watchman, Helm himself had come to our temple, His house.

    He spoke commands, mostly to me directly, though I was near overcome from the experience, I forced myself to listen hard and remember every utterance from Him. Then…above and beyond any expectations any mortal should dare to hope or dream, He reached out with His Holiest of swords and touched me lightly on each shoulder plate. I nearly fell over then, but remained kneeling, head bowed, though shuddering slightly from the godly touch…then He was gone.

    We were all stunned for some times, I am unsure how long we kneeled or stood there, in amazement and awe of what we had been so fortunate to witness. I looked about at everyone I knew there. Sam, Orania, Walkman, two I barely knew; Whitehawk and Amadan, and Robyn. I looked carefully at each of them as my Lord had said I must remain vigilant as someone where would betray me. I suppose my look became somewhat guarded, as Robyn approached me directly.

    She asked me the question. The question I didn’t want to answer yet. My mind was still racing from what had just occurred but she wanted an answer to the question, as she looked up at me, her lower lip trembling, I saw the sixteen year old girl again, newly come to Norwick. She, of course, asked me if I still trusted her. I raised her chin gently with my hand and told her that I would always trust her. After all, it was Robyn who had saved me by poisoning me, and sat by my side while I had slept.

    Robyn left, and I talked excitedly with the others, how this temple would be a place that Helmites would come from leagues away to see the place where Lord Helm had once stood. I decided then, that once I was dead and sent to my Lord forever, that the armor I wore, the metal He had touched would be enshrined here in the temple. As I was musing about future generations, my own children included, coming to the temple in remembrance of His visitation, Jenna came into the temple saying that Robyn had left and was going away.

    When I asked why, Jenna said that Robyn was afraid she would be the betrayer, as she had been controlled before by evil forces. Shaking my head, I left the temple and Jiyyd, to head north, to see if the temple of Tyr had been attacked as well, and offer my aid if needed. As I had just finished talking to Daisy, the head priestess who had married Seven and I, someone walked into the temple. It was Robyn.

    She said she had been following me all the way up the Nars, and scolded me for being careless in traveling alone. When I asked about her leaving, she said she wouldn’t be leaving, but had a confession that I needed to hear. When I asked what I was, she said she wished to tell me in private, so we left the temple and city and headed south into the grasses.

    We found a flat rock where we both sat. I looked at her, telling her there was nothing she truly needed to tell me, that there was no need for any confession. She disagreed and began to talk about killing the man who had hurt Marcus Endur, she called it murder. I argued that killing was not murder as I killed often, and would kill Mel’hrus in a moment if she appeared before me then.

    Looking east, as the sun began to rise, she continued. She talked about how she had kept everything I had ever given her, and how Perence and even Jenna had known her secret for years. She said she had settled, because she knew she had to. I looked at Robyn, looked into her green eyes somewhat puzzled, unable to understand what she meant. She closed her eyes and just asked for me to let her pretend, if only for a moment. When I asked her what she meant, she rolled her eyes, muttering how men hear but don’t listen. She then leaned into me, wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. Quite soundly. Before I could react, she quickly withdrew and stood. She asked if I understood now.

    I sat there, in shock. I thought about my reaction. While I had not returned her kiss or embrace, I did not pull away. I did not get up and leave. I was not angry. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel or react, but slowly admitted to myself that I had somewhat enjoyed it. She talked further, as I recovered myself, about how I was one of the few men in Narfell that she truly looked up to and respected. She said she knew I would act awkward around her now, and I told her I would not. We made our way back to Jiyyd, mostly quiet, yet it was not awkward.

    What I am doing? Should I have left? Should I have been angry? I am praying daily for guidance in this matter, but feel unsure of how I should act or feel in this matter. Being unsure is not something I’m used to. Not at all.


  • SPIRAL

    It started with the dream. Every night, it would return, and I would wake screaming. I was both ashamed and humiliated that I, Kanen Hightower, Paladin of Helm, would wake screaming and cursing from nightmares, yet it was so. It was always the same, it never varied. Soon…I dreaded sleep, I avoided it as long as I could. However, when I would finally succumb, the dream was there waiting for me. Mel’hrus’ amber eyes and her taunting laughter.

    I continued my attempts to convince Seven to take the children and go. To leave this place and go to the safety of her parents estate. No matter how I tried, she only refused repeating that she would not be forced from her home. Our discussions turned somewhat bitter. I’m sure she was unaware of what this was doing to me. But I was falling apart, bit by bit. The only answer I could see was to make sure the dream could not come true. If Seven took the children far away and safe, then perhaps that would end my nightly journey to the horrors of the plague.

    Soon, I wasn’t sleeping at all. I would lie next to her for a few hours, until she was asleep, then I would get up, don my armor and equipment, and head out, looking to make good use of my time, if I could not sleep. For days, I did not sleep. Though at times, when I allowed myself to sit or stand still, sleep was there, trying to claim me. I would begin to drift into slumber…and be jerked back awake by the sight of those amber eyes and her evil laughter.

    A part of me realized I was on a downward spiral. My body and mind were degrading rapidly without proper rest, yet I saw no easy solution. Why did I hide this from Seven? I’m not sure I know that answer even now. I wandered about the Nars and the wilds. If I kept moving, sleep could not claim me. Some things I said, some things I did during this time, are something of a blank to me, yet I know some days passed as I moved in this sleepless fog.

    I was sitting on a bench in Peltarch, not quite sure how I had arrived there, drifting in and out of a grey fog, when she arrived. She approached and sat next to me, almost immediately realizing something was wrong with me. Her first question, after peering into my helmet and seeing my red, bloodshot, darkened eyes was if I had been sleeping. I had told her of the dream, but hadn’t seen her in days, at least that I could remember.

    She took me by the hand, saying she could help me. I looked into her green eyes and only saw deep concern and worry. I remember thinking that I must have looked pretty bad. She led me to the Dancing Mermaid, told me to have a seat. I sat, my head drooping forward over the table, more asleep than awake.

    She brought me a mug full of some murky liquid that was hot. She said it was tea. I drank it slowly, grimacing at the bitter taste. I finished the bitter tea and stood, somewhat woozily. She said she had a room for me, and took my hand and led me upstairs, as my extremities started to tingle.

    I remember entering the room, almost collapsing forward on the bed, still encased in my armor. Darkness took me. Again I saw the amber eyes, saw the red-headed elf Mel’hrus standing there, laughing her dark laugh…yet then it changed. The eyes became green, and her shape and voice softened. What occurred next in this dream I will not detail, though it still causes me some embarrassment upon remembering.

    Suffice it to say, I finally awoke, lying in the bed, my armor lying neatly at the bottom of the bed. She was there at the bedside, sitting in a chair, watching over me. I was still clothed, of course, but she had apparently removed my armor once I had fallen unconscious. My thoughts were groggy, yet I felt better than I had in many days. She said I had slept for more than twelve hours. I had little trouble believing that, considering how much better I felt than previously.

    I quickly re-armored myself, with her help. Smiling, I thanked her for everything she had done, and asked what had been in that tea. When she said she had poisoned me, my smile faded as I realized she was quite serious. She said that small dose she had given me caused only sleep. While I thought on this, we left the room and made our way out of the Mermaid. I glanced about a bit guiltily, though I knew nothing had happened, at least outside of my drug-induced dream…I suddenly realized the dream had indeed been about her as she flashed a smile at me as we left the inn.


  • :shock:

    DUDE!

    You really had me going there. :?


  • THE STORM

    It was a chance for us to get away, at least for a little while. Seven and I had taken both Durai and Revanna with us, east out of Jiyyd, some distance away, to a quiet hillside where we had a picnic lunch, and surprisingly, the children fell asleep before too long, stretched out on the wool blanket. I sat reclining back on a tree that grew on the hilltop. Seven leaned back in my arms as we enjoyed the peace, the near silence as the wind blew through the treetops, causing the long grasses to bend and cooling the unusually warm day.

    I held her hands in mine, my arms wrapped around her, as I whispered quietly into her ear, as she flashed a knowing smile up to me. I was alert but also felt very relaxed. Then I saw the dark clouds forming to the west, near Jiyyd. It was no great surprise. The entire region had a great deal of rainfall, of course. It was a rare day that went without at least some showers if not a storm. The dark clouds seem to move toward and then lay heavily over the town, as I heard the keening sound of the wind coming from the west, the wind must have been strong under those clouds, I thought, as the moaning wind from the west could be heard growing louder, yet the clouds were no closer to us.

    So, I returned my attentions to Seven, glancing at our twins, restful in sleep, as they seldom were when awake. I gently rocked back and forth, as Seven closed her eyes, apparently enjoying our outing as much as I. The moaning sound from the west was only increasing, however. It was now more like a howling, yet the dark, ominous storm clouds were no closer to us, and, finally seemed to be dissipating as they slowly continued west.

    Seven then opened her eyes, and a slight frown appeared on her face as she glanced west along with me. The sound of the howling wind was only continuing to grow louder, even though the storm seemed at least mostly over. We both glanced at the children and reached the same decision. Though the last few hours had been both enjoyable and restful, it was time we headed back, before that wind and storm did arrive here and we found ourselves on the hill unprepared, with two small children to protect as well as ourselves, and the sun was slowly set to the west as well.

    We gathered our things, picking up the plates and glasses, packing them back away into the basket, Seven picked up both children with practiced ease, as I finished gathering our things. The scene was near idyllic, the exception of the sound of the howling, moaning wind that continued to grow louder from the west. I was in my armor, as I almost always was, yet Seven, and of course the children were not, therefore I drifted slowly ahead of Seven as she carried our twins. I scanned carefully about, both before and behind us, as the hairs on the back of my neck were raising for some unknown reason…I felt as if there were a threat close by, but I could see nothing. Even my Gift showed to me no evil presence in the area.

    Slowly, cautiously, we continued west, as Seven innately picked up on my mood and she glanced about as well, holding the sleeping children close to her, her blue eyes darting about. The sound grew only louder as we approached the town, yet I felt no wind, only a weak breeze. The air felt thick and humid. We reached the gates, hearing the howling wind from inside. I unconsciously leaned forward into the gates as I opened them, expecting to be blown back by the wind I had been unable to find thus far, Seven had her back to the wall, standing some distance away, in case some threat burst out that I would not be able to deal with. Yes, caution seemed to be ruling our every thought now, both warriors borne and bred, feeling a threat we could not see, yet trusting our feelings, relying on our years of training.

    The sun had almost completely set as the gates creaked open…there was no wind, though now the sound seemed to be only louder, yet realization slowly dawned on me that it came from many sources, not the sound of some strange wind at all. The Watch were not at their posts. This alone caused me to stop in the gathering darkness. In fact, I saw no one at all. Motioning Seven forward, we both entered the town, listening to the raw moaning and howling sounds and came from many sources, as yet unseen. Glancing at Seven, her eyes flashed with concern for the bundles she carried, yet also flashed hard as she seemed to think what she would do to any who attempted to harm them.

    Slowly, I drew my longsword, listening to the sound of the enchanted, razor sharp blade coming free of its sheath with some satisfaction. Yet it could barely be heard above the wailing that surrounded us. Then I saw someone. A form slowly approached, hidden by the darkness and the shadows, yet it seemed to someone swaying back and forth, stumbling forward. Some drunk, I thought. There must have been some party or festival that I was unaware of, and this was some straggler who was deep into his cups, probably stumbling about, looking for his home.

    I called out to the form, letting him know that we there, before he stumbled onto my blade, yet he continued to move slowly forward, nearly falling over many times. The keening, the moaning, the wailing sound seemed to increase somewhat as the shambling form approached. As the form entered the torchlight at last, I saw that his mouth was stretched open, and his eyes glittered with madness. As he saw us, he now tried to move more quickly toward us both, his arms outstretched, as his body seemed wracked with spasms and tremors.

    I told him in a commanding voice to stop, yet he did not slow, stumbling forward, eyes full of hatred and pain, it seemed. Then I noticed his face, and his bare arms. Something was very wrong here. His skin seemed as though alive, something seemed to be crawling beneath the surface of his skin, or many somethings. His intent to attack seemed obvious, despite my forceful warnings for him to stop, so I was left with little choice. I wanted to only wound him, but, as my blade pierced his strange flesh, some awareness seemed to return to his eyes, if only for a moment, and he nearly threw himself on my sword. He seemed to sigh and smiled as his life ebbed away. I noticed his blood flowing from his wounds seemed to run slowly, as though more sludge than the blood of a man…the color of the blood was dark…nearly black. Several tiny, wriggling forms could be seen crawling though the blood, and now breaking though the man’s skin in many places.

    I looked up to Seven and her face mirrored the dawning horror I felt. The sound we had we heard, the moaning, the howling, was not caused by any wind at all, it was the piteous cries forced from the throats of mortals cruelly forced to endure more terrible agony than could possibly be endured. Jiyyd was dying around us, as dread plague had been unleashed, yet this was no normal illness or disease. The Wasting, The Blood Rot, had come to Jiyyd. The strange, dark clouds we had watched appear must have released it on the poor town as we rested, safe on the distant hill, damning and cursing all to a death of horrible pain as their flesh wasted from their bones. Their very blood becoming clogged with tiny wriggling maggots.

    My first thought was to turn back, take Seven and the children back through the west gate and out into the night, but as I turned, I saw many shambling shapes behind us. Deciding that our home was the best place to find refuge, I threw my cloak over the children, over Seven, her eyes filled with terror, she shivered, though it was humid and warm. The stench from the decaying bodies was overwhelming. I felt bile rising into my throat, and forced myself to ignore the putrid smell around us. I quickly told Seven to follow me, she only nodded and followed. We moved forward, stepping over dark mounds that no longer moved, but were quickly surrounded by those not quite dead, their unholy agony apparently driven them into madness.

    Swinging my blade about in a lethal arc of steel, I shouted them to back away…yet none listened. I prayed to my Lord to protect us, cutting through their putrid flesh, mindful that I try to avoid getting it on myself. Seven was close behind, huddled over, protecting our precious children. Slowly I cut a path through them, cleaving through rotting arms, head, legs, whatever stood in my path between safety for my family. Man, woman or child, all fell when they reached my arc of steel.

    Finally, as I was breathing heavily from the constant effort, gasping and gagging as I drew in deep breaths full of the putrid stink from those around us, we reached our house and the door. I started to reach for my key, keeping an eye behind us, as there were no nearby threats now. Then I heard the sound of magic up on the hill next to us, and suddenly she was there. Mel’hrus’ amber eyes were filled with an unholy light and exuded dark, evil power. Then suddenly she pointed behind me, and doubled over, laughing. Her laughter made my blood run cold, but I turned to see the source of her amusement. I looked back and saw Seven, standing with her arms flailing weakly about, her once beautiful voice rising ever higher as the unholy torture worked its way into and through her once beautiful body, her flesh beginning to rot on her bones, as her eyes stared through me at nothing, her mind already snapped.

    Then I saw the final horror. Both Durai and Revanna had fallen from Seven’s grasp, landing safely on the soft earth at her feet, still covered by my cloak. Yet the cries that were coming from beneath the cloak were no normal cries of children, but the death screams of young lives suddenly thrust into agony and pain. I heard Mel’hrus’ dark laughter behind me, but I had only a single thought now. My blade would perform one last deadly arc. Into and through Seven, through our children, the symbols of our love, and end in my own breast. Muttering a final curse at the woman behind me, I moved quickly, realizing the bitch had won.

    Seven shook me awake then, as she said my screams had woken both her and the children, that I had shouted curses at Mel’hrus and would not wake for some time, no matter how hard she tried. Once my mind and nerves had calmed, I began again, asking Seven to take the children far away to her parents, yet she only shook her head, remaining adamant in her refusal to consider it, despite my best efforts. I felt as if the dream was not just a dream, but perhaps a vision of what was coming…