She had been having trouble sleeping. Now in the early hours of the morning, again she found herself awake. Something was wrong, had been wrong for days. Something was making her restless, that bad feeling of impending doom that just wont go away.
She got up and walked across her room to the open window. As was the custom on all the windows in the palace, a fine curtain strung with small bells to deter thieves covered the opening. It jingled as she brushed it aside and stepped out on the balcony.
The summer night was warm and the city felt airless and close. She had not been here long but in that short time she had made it her home, her city. Below a Redboot night watchmen walked past and disappeared around a corner, she smiled to herself, the city was asleep. She stepped back in to return to bed not that she felt it would do her any good.
As she reached her bed, she noticed a sound. A deep rumbling whisper, she spun on her heel and stared into the gloom of her unlit room. A large figure was there in the shadows, he stepped forward as he was spotted a piece of parchment crumbling in his hands.
She screamed out to raise the alarm but she found her throat burned and felt like parchment, dry and stretched. The harder she screamed the more it hurt but alas not a sound came forth. The guards outside may as well be a hundred leagues away.
Sense overcame panic and she went to grab something to throw to make a sound, any sound. As she reached out the shadows around her came alive, translucent claws grabbed her and cast her to the bed with such ease she seemed to him to be weightless.
“Hold her” The big man ordered in a hushed voice. A rasping reply that might have been its voice came from the shadowy thing as it leapt upon her and held her fast.
The big man moved like a cat across the room. Then, kneeling on the bed, he unstoppered a flask and firmly holding her head with his great hand, thumb and forefinger pressing into her cheeks to keep her lips parted he carefully poured. With a deft move he clamped her mouth shut and smothered her face. The liquid was foul and bitter and burnt her mouth but instinct overcame her will and she had no choice but to swallow.
Recruiting a very special disciple
Moderator: Lords of The Realm
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ironchicken
- Dasarian Hero
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Recruiting a very special disciple
Lord Romar of Old Dasar
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
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ironchicken
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 433
- Joined: Fri Feb 21, 2003 9:16 am
- Location: Hampton, SW London
Three more times she is forced to imbibe. “Fear not” the big man says “tis not poison, it will not harm you. Quite the opposite in fact”. The elixir starts to take effect. First itching then prickling working from her stomach and slowly effecting her whole self. The big man looks up and across the room.
Rufus knows Romar well. He knows the invisibility that hides him is a mask Romar’s wits easily penetrate. Romar makes eye contact with a silent question. Rufus stares at the woman looking past our world.
Rufus is special even amongst the Lords of Nergal. His chosen path so close to death have given him a perception known to few. Looking beyond the mortal plane he watched the potion do its work. The woman’s soul shone brightly, he watched as etherial tendrils sprang to life from all over her body. Along each line were hundreds of little barbs that whipped and clawed and spun until she was cocooned in a web of fine brambles. Satisfied he nods.
Below in the street a bard wanders past idly stumming her lute.
Whilst waiting for had drawn and laid out a few tools. Some blackened and twisted knives and a small book with a charred cover marked on several pages. The girl was now rigid, every muscle now taught, her mouth stretched wide screaming her silent scream, eyes wide but no longer seeing through her torment.
With a deft move he makes a cut just below the ribs. Gently he reaches in and with the aid of a hooked tool draws her heart free.
Such an act would normally bring certain death. Rufus watched on as her soul tried to tear free of her body but the barbs on the tendrils dug deep hooking and tearing and binding the soul in place. However, her soul was strong and he watched as its prison began to give…. “hurry” he hissed.
From the flask that held the elixir the big man draws a second organ still beating and pulsing in his hand. Placing her heart in the bottle he opened the book and flicked through the marked pages.
The book was blackened by fire, its cover fragile. The pages within were filled with notes from a fine but erratic hand. The words and phrases were jumbled and jumped around like the ravings of someone who’s mind was quicker than their hand. Finding the diagram he required Romar rotates the pulsing matter into the correct orientation and then gently teases it back into place.
“The soul is tearing free” sounds the invisible voice.
Quickly the big man worked his great frame belied his nimble fingers. He had drawn a bottle, pinching the wound shut he gently poured the liquid on. Where it fell it hissed and sealed the cut leaving no mark. Satisfied he pulled the woman forward and poured the remainder of the heal potion down her throat.
Heal potions are powerful things. The magics work to mend what they find and when presented with the severed arteries and the new heart it grew the tissues needed to make good. Once again the heart took up its function to provide life to the body.
The three waited. Soon the girl relaxed, then she opened her eyes. Success! A smile came across her face but not a smile that was a pleasant thing. She looked upon her new master and eager to please twisted to tilt her hips towards him.
He shook his head. “Cover yourself up, I did not go to this effort for that. I have other duties for you” he said. “First we need to clean this mess up”.
Rufus knows Romar well. He knows the invisibility that hides him is a mask Romar’s wits easily penetrate. Romar makes eye contact with a silent question. Rufus stares at the woman looking past our world.
Rufus is special even amongst the Lords of Nergal. His chosen path so close to death have given him a perception known to few. Looking beyond the mortal plane he watched the potion do its work. The woman’s soul shone brightly, he watched as etherial tendrils sprang to life from all over her body. Along each line were hundreds of little barbs that whipped and clawed and spun until she was cocooned in a web of fine brambles. Satisfied he nods.
Below in the street a bard wanders past idly stumming her lute.
Whilst waiting for had drawn and laid out a few tools. Some blackened and twisted knives and a small book with a charred cover marked on several pages. The girl was now rigid, every muscle now taught, her mouth stretched wide screaming her silent scream, eyes wide but no longer seeing through her torment.
With a deft move he makes a cut just below the ribs. Gently he reaches in and with the aid of a hooked tool draws her heart free.
Such an act would normally bring certain death. Rufus watched on as her soul tried to tear free of her body but the barbs on the tendrils dug deep hooking and tearing and binding the soul in place. However, her soul was strong and he watched as its prison began to give…. “hurry” he hissed.
From the flask that held the elixir the big man draws a second organ still beating and pulsing in his hand. Placing her heart in the bottle he opened the book and flicked through the marked pages.
The book was blackened by fire, its cover fragile. The pages within were filled with notes from a fine but erratic hand. The words and phrases were jumbled and jumped around like the ravings of someone who’s mind was quicker than their hand. Finding the diagram he required Romar rotates the pulsing matter into the correct orientation and then gently teases it back into place.
“The soul is tearing free” sounds the invisible voice.
Quickly the big man worked his great frame belied his nimble fingers. He had drawn a bottle, pinching the wound shut he gently poured the liquid on. Where it fell it hissed and sealed the cut leaving no mark. Satisfied he pulled the woman forward and poured the remainder of the heal potion down her throat.
Heal potions are powerful things. The magics work to mend what they find and when presented with the severed arteries and the new heart it grew the tissues needed to make good. Once again the heart took up its function to provide life to the body.
The three waited. Soon the girl relaxed, then she opened her eyes. Success! A smile came across her face but not a smile that was a pleasant thing. She looked upon her new master and eager to please twisted to tilt her hips towards him.
He shook his head. “Cover yourself up, I did not go to this effort for that. I have other duties for you” he said. “First we need to clean this mess up”.
Lord Romar of Old Dasar
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
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Stonehammer
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Shalandravv
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The clouds raced across the night sky, marching alternating bands of shadow and light across the palace grounds beneath the watcher. Perched high above the streets the lone figure crouched in the shadow of a cluster of chimney pots. For several hours now he had been in position, all but motionless, as patient as the bird of prey that was his namesake.
The movement when it came was so quick, so subtle, that Hawk almost missed it; The guard certainly did. A large shadow cloaked in darkness flowed across the open area before the palace with breathtaking speed. Although it was impossible to make out the features of the shadow, the way it - the way he - moved revealed his identity as clearly as if he had stood still and proclaimed it aloud for all to hear.
Even though he was commanded only to watch Hawk's composite bow came up, the enchanted barb of the arrow tracking the shadow.
He was a hairbreadth from releasing the shaft when a second figure suddenly came into focus at the edge of his vision. Concealed by the darkest of illusions he had almost missed it.
Hawk breathed out a curse and froze as he realised who the second figure must be.
One Lord of Nergal by surprise, perhaps; Two, unlikely. Hawk lowered his bow, not tonight it seemed, the palace guard would need to deal with this threat on their own. As a cloud again passed before the moon the Hawk returned to stillness, and watched...
The movement when it came was so quick, so subtle, that Hawk almost missed it; The guard certainly did. A large shadow cloaked in darkness flowed across the open area before the palace with breathtaking speed. Although it was impossible to make out the features of the shadow, the way it - the way he - moved revealed his identity as clearly as if he had stood still and proclaimed it aloud for all to hear.
Even though he was commanded only to watch Hawk's composite bow came up, the enchanted barb of the arrow tracking the shadow.
He was a hairbreadth from releasing the shaft when a second figure suddenly came into focus at the edge of his vision. Concealed by the darkest of illusions he had almost missed it.
Hawk breathed out a curse and froze as he realised who the second figure must be.
One Lord of Nergal by surprise, perhaps; Two, unlikely. Hawk lowered his bow, not tonight it seemed, the palace guard would need to deal with this threat on their own. As a cloud again passed before the moon the Hawk returned to stillness, and watched...
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ironchicken
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 433
- Joined: Fri Feb 21, 2003 9:16 am
- Location: Hampton, SW London
Romar stole across the courtyard, as he ran there was a sudden shift in his step from a quiet glide to a dodging lope. He would not have lasted long leading the faith and command the likes of The Bodysnatchers, Rati and Maelstrom without some instinct for hazzards. And that instinct was warning him now.
He reached cover and slipped into the shadows. By harnessing the skills he had mastered his body shifted no longer existing completely in this reality he phased emptying his mass and body to another plane. He all but disappeared.
With all his other mastery Romar's eyes were still human and not as well suited to the dark as those of the elves or underfolk. From his pack he drew and donned a hood that aided his sight. He scanned the rooftops…. There by a heavy buttress, a shape. Almost as soon as his eyes came to rest upon it shifted position dropping out of sight. He smiled, fine instincts he thought to himself, very fine. The game is afoot.
He left, he was already late for his final appointment of the night.
He reached cover and slipped into the shadows. By harnessing the skills he had mastered his body shifted no longer existing completely in this reality he phased emptying his mass and body to another plane. He all but disappeared.
With all his other mastery Romar's eyes were still human and not as well suited to the dark as those of the elves or underfolk. From his pack he drew and donned a hood that aided his sight. He scanned the rooftops…. There by a heavy buttress, a shape. Almost as soon as his eyes came to rest upon it shifted position dropping out of sight. He smiled, fine instincts he thought to himself, very fine. The game is afoot.
He left, he was already late for his final appointment of the night.
Last edited by ironchicken on Tue Aug 03, 2004 1:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Lord Romar of Old Dasar
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
-
ironchicken
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 433
- Joined: Fri Feb 21, 2003 9:16 am
- Location: Hampton, SW London
Romar enters the Green Dragon. The Inn is at the end of another busy night. The floor sticky with spilt ale the air a fug of stale smoke. He scans the room, few patrons. Weary serving wenches clear tables around a pair of unconscious dwarves. In the corner a small group continue to gamble their gold away. Dotted around the inn sit the odd solitary solemn drinker.
He makes his way across the room to a young woman, back against the wall and cradling a small flagon. He sits opposite her. She wears supple leathers, well worn but still fine. Their cut as much to show her figure as to provide protection.
Were you successful? “ he asks.
looking up from her small ale she grins “All quiet on the western front, and the southern for that matter”. She sips her drink “rather a dull way to spend an evening, but hey you're paying...”
Romar scans the room... “take care... prying ears... so any problems?”
“Well, I got a soaking, I should charge you extra for that - strings aren't cheap you know.”
He smiles “but the guard gave you no trouble?”
“No trouble and precious few tips either.”
“Good...” He says and dropping his voice “and anything further to report or all clear?”
She leans forward “The night watch are dull and hairy, and with the exception of a number of uptight crusaders almost criminally lax. I doubt they have the collective wit between them”
Sshhh...he hisses “good... you have served me well this night” he casts a small bag of coins across the table.
She sweeps the bag up and feels its weight and smiles “You take care out there, it's a dark night”. She smirks at him and returns her attention to her drink.
He gets up, nods and leaves. Elorian watches him go, fingering the bag of gold now resting in her lap. She smiles once more and drains her cup.
He makes his way across the room to a young woman, back against the wall and cradling a small flagon. He sits opposite her. She wears supple leathers, well worn but still fine. Their cut as much to show her figure as to provide protection.
Were you successful? “ he asks.
looking up from her small ale she grins “All quiet on the western front, and the southern for that matter”. She sips her drink “rather a dull way to spend an evening, but hey you're paying...”
Romar scans the room... “take care... prying ears... so any problems?”
“Well, I got a soaking, I should charge you extra for that - strings aren't cheap you know.”
He smiles “but the guard gave you no trouble?”
“No trouble and precious few tips either.”
“Good...” He says and dropping his voice “and anything further to report or all clear?”
She leans forward “The night watch are dull and hairy, and with the exception of a number of uptight crusaders almost criminally lax. I doubt they have the collective wit between them”
Sshhh...he hisses “good... you have served me well this night” he casts a small bag of coins across the table.
She sweeps the bag up and feels its weight and smiles “You take care out there, it's a dark night”. She smirks at him and returns her attention to her drink.
He gets up, nods and leaves. Elorian watches him go, fingering the bag of gold now resting in her lap. She smiles once more and drains her cup.
Lord Romar of Old Dasar
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer
ßõµk§õþ: exiled goblin
Abdul: traveler from desert lands
Vane: master archer