"Are you sure about this?" Mitchifer asked the man who looked like Lone. "And keep in mind, I'm going to protect you, for Lone's sake."
Den stood silently while Samael prepared his answer.
"I'm sure. Fate has a weird way of going. I have no one else to give me answers, and then I'm summoned to the Necropolis. It has to be a way for me to get answers."
Mitch nodded, looking around at the small wooden ship at the docks. "So... how are we supposed to sail this thing ourselves?"
Samael stood, and pulled a parchment he was given from his robes. Reading the words on it, and channelling his own divine energies, the ship suddenly lurched forward, and turned without a sail up, heading out to sea.
"We'll just have to trust that this scroll is going to take us to where they said it would." Samael sighed, looking over the side of the ship.
The three sailed off, unsure of what awaited them at Kracc's.
Three set off...
Moderator: Lords of The Realm
Three set off...
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain.
Lone Starraiser - Dorvan Starraiser - Samael Baelkash - Laran Nisarin
The gods are not always with us... remember Minfod!
The eerie blackness pulled the boat along, surrounding it with a fog so thick, the three men could not see beyond the hull of the ship. The sea could be heard splashing against the ship, but could not be seen.
Samael had his staff propped against the mast, and was pacing back and forth on the deck. Den had taken a seat as close to the center of the ship as possible, and was sitting, attempting to meditate, interrupted by his curses as the ship lurched about. Mitchifer stood calmly at the head of the ship, as if his vision could pierce the deep fog.
Suddenly, Samael clutched his head in pain. Falling to his knees, he cried out as his body began to glow a pale blue. Den and Mitch flew to his side in a moment, trying to ascertain the problem, but Samael couldn't breathe, let alone speak.
"YOU! I HAVE FOUND YOU! STUPID FOOL, YOU ARE DEFENSELESS OUT HERE!" A loud cackle echoed from within the fog. "YOU WILL COMPLETE THE CEREMONY!"
Samael cried in pain once again as four shiny objects arose from him, and glistened in the air.
Mitch and Den growled simultaneously. "The Pale Moonstones..." the cleric spat, reaching for his warhammer.
A man materialized into the air, near where the Moonstones shined like stars in the daylight. Quietly, he took the four stones, and held them within his hands. "IT IS TIME, SAM'A'EL... THE TIME WHERE YOU MEET THE FATE YOUR GODS HAVE LAID FOR YOU THIS TIME AROUND!" Samael began to rise upwards, cringed in pain.
Not waiting for developments, Den quickly loosed several arrows. Not a second later, Mitch's hands were in the air, calling down the light of gods upon the strange man in the sky.
The arrows flew true, but the man's image dissipated slightly, and reformed, as if there was no flesh to accompany it. The holy light seared the eyes of all who saw it, but as it passed, the floating man, the Moonstones, and Samael, all floated equidistant from one another and the ship.
"ONCE THE TWO SOULS THAT ARE ONE ARE EXPENDED... THE GATE WILL OPEN. THE TIME FOR ANSHAR'S TRUE COMING IS NEAR!" The man cackled as he pointed at the ship, setting it ablaze. As the ship burned, Samael screamed in pain one last time until it was cut off as he faded from sight. Samael, the odd man, and the Pale Moonstones were nowhere to be seen.
Den and Mitch looked at one another, and back to the burning ship they stood on. Avoiding the flames, Den spoke first. "We have to go back, get the others."
"What's going on? What just happened?" The cleric asked, clearly not panicking.
"The Ansharians must have caught word of our little trip here. They've been waiting to get Samael for the stones he carries, and because they need them, along with Lone's soul, to open this gate he keeps talking about." Den nodded, carefully checking the blazing ship.
"He said expended!" Mitch called out.
Den shook his head. "I know... here, quick, help me." Den tied a lash around the mast. "Lets grab what would we can, and make a raft tied to the mast of the ship. If we can get back to Daris, we can get the others, and strike first before they use up Lone and Samael."
Nodding, Mitchifer turned, and with his hammer, struck a mighty blow upon the mast, cracking it in two places. It folded upon itself, and landed on deck. "Lets get back to Daris."
Samael had his staff propped against the mast, and was pacing back and forth on the deck. Den had taken a seat as close to the center of the ship as possible, and was sitting, attempting to meditate, interrupted by his curses as the ship lurched about. Mitchifer stood calmly at the head of the ship, as if his vision could pierce the deep fog.
Suddenly, Samael clutched his head in pain. Falling to his knees, he cried out as his body began to glow a pale blue. Den and Mitch flew to his side in a moment, trying to ascertain the problem, but Samael couldn't breathe, let alone speak.
"YOU! I HAVE FOUND YOU! STUPID FOOL, YOU ARE DEFENSELESS OUT HERE!" A loud cackle echoed from within the fog. "YOU WILL COMPLETE THE CEREMONY!"
Samael cried in pain once again as four shiny objects arose from him, and glistened in the air.
Mitch and Den growled simultaneously. "The Pale Moonstones..." the cleric spat, reaching for his warhammer.
A man materialized into the air, near where the Moonstones shined like stars in the daylight. Quietly, he took the four stones, and held them within his hands. "IT IS TIME, SAM'A'EL... THE TIME WHERE YOU MEET THE FATE YOUR GODS HAVE LAID FOR YOU THIS TIME AROUND!" Samael began to rise upwards, cringed in pain.
Not waiting for developments, Den quickly loosed several arrows. Not a second later, Mitch's hands were in the air, calling down the light of gods upon the strange man in the sky.
The arrows flew true, but the man's image dissipated slightly, and reformed, as if there was no flesh to accompany it. The holy light seared the eyes of all who saw it, but as it passed, the floating man, the Moonstones, and Samael, all floated equidistant from one another and the ship.
"ONCE THE TWO SOULS THAT ARE ONE ARE EXPENDED... THE GATE WILL OPEN. THE TIME FOR ANSHAR'S TRUE COMING IS NEAR!" The man cackled as he pointed at the ship, setting it ablaze. As the ship burned, Samael screamed in pain one last time until it was cut off as he faded from sight. Samael, the odd man, and the Pale Moonstones were nowhere to be seen.
Den and Mitch looked at one another, and back to the burning ship they stood on. Avoiding the flames, Den spoke first. "We have to go back, get the others."
"What's going on? What just happened?" The cleric asked, clearly not panicking.
"The Ansharians must have caught word of our little trip here. They've been waiting to get Samael for the stones he carries, and because they need them, along with Lone's soul, to open this gate he keeps talking about." Den nodded, carefully checking the blazing ship.
"He said expended!" Mitch called out.
Den shook his head. "I know... here, quick, help me." Den tied a lash around the mast. "Lets grab what would we can, and make a raft tied to the mast of the ship. If we can get back to Daris, we can get the others, and strike first before they use up Lone and Samael."
Nodding, Mitchifer turned, and with his hammer, struck a mighty blow upon the mast, cracking it in two places. It folded upon itself, and landed on deck. "Lets get back to Daris."
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain.
Lone Starraiser - Dorvan Starraiser - Samael Baelkash - Laran Nisarin
The gods are not always with us... remember Minfod!
-
Evelond Formos
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 817
- Joined: Tue Jun 28, 2005 11:58 am
- Location: Connecticut US
...one returned.
It had been a few hours since whatever it was appeared and torched the boat, and took Sam and the Stones. Mitch and I had been paddling back to land, but the sun was going down and I don't know about him but I was getting tired.
Laying on the "raft", my arms are sore from the hours of rowing, night has fallen. Even though the sun has gone down and robbed us of that silhouette of land we aimed for, we where still on course. Maybe a couple more hours..
Does it even matter at this point?
What?
Think about it, we've been drifting here for hours. What makes you think they haven't done it already? Or that IF we get back there will be enough time to do anything about it? I mean, what's stopping them now?
Trust me, we'll now when they...
That's when I first heard it. The loud, low rumble of a thunderstorm.
Great, what else can go wrong today?
Anyone that's ever traveled to Palemoon knows what its like to sail through a storm at sea, and know how violent and unforgiving the open sea can be. I hadn't planned on learning first hand what it was like to be lost at sea, but my plans hadn't been exactly fool-proof these days.
The water became steadily more choppy and the low rumbling started sounding more like a stampede of minotaurs. Waves began to batter Mitch and I as we clung to the "raft", which was already starting to come apart in the face of the unending crashing of waves.
It was only a matter of time, though that thought gave no condolence when it happened. As one final wave overtook and slammed into us, hard. Mitch and I where tossed apart and the "raft" broke up, well, more accurately it exploded. Pieces of wood and rope where flung in all directions and I found myself underwater.
When I reached the surface, I was lucky enough to be close to a fairly large piece of the mast and lashed an arm to it. Looking around in all directions for the rest of the "raft" and Mitch, all I saw was the rolling blackness of the water.
"MIITCH!! MIIIIITTTTTCCCHHHH!!!"
I called out to him until my throat was sore. Though against the crashes of the waves, the roar of the thunder and the downpour of the rain. I never got a response. And as I lay there, my right arm tied to a hunk of wood, floating aimlessly on the open sea, my body finally gave in to exhaustion and I passed out.
I don't know how long I was out or how I survived the night but, when I came to, it was light. The storm had passed and I could see land. It was Daris. It was Daris and I knew it was Daris and I swam like I never swam before in my life. So I'm exhausted, So Mitch might be dead now, So the bad guys might have everything they need to destroy the world as we know it. If I can make it back, then there is still a chance. Not a good chance by any measure, but better than no chance at all.
After about 20 minutes of non-stop paddling, I made it to shore.
Please, let's rest. Just lie down here and rest.
No time. Gotta move.
I stumbled into town, dripping wet and smelling of saltwater and seaweed. Toward the middle of town there where two people talking and one of them I recognized. Hobbling ever closer I managed to weakly call out before collapsing.
"Hea...Heaven" *thud*
It had been a few hours since whatever it was appeared and torched the boat, and took Sam and the Stones. Mitch and I had been paddling back to land, but the sun was going down and I don't know about him but I was getting tired.
Laying on the "raft", my arms are sore from the hours of rowing, night has fallen. Even though the sun has gone down and robbed us of that silhouette of land we aimed for, we where still on course. Maybe a couple more hours..
Does it even matter at this point?
What?
Think about it, we've been drifting here for hours. What makes you think they haven't done it already? Or that IF we get back there will be enough time to do anything about it? I mean, what's stopping them now?
Trust me, we'll now when they...
That's when I first heard it. The loud, low rumble of a thunderstorm.
Great, what else can go wrong today?
Anyone that's ever traveled to Palemoon knows what its like to sail through a storm at sea, and know how violent and unforgiving the open sea can be. I hadn't planned on learning first hand what it was like to be lost at sea, but my plans hadn't been exactly fool-proof these days.
The water became steadily more choppy and the low rumbling started sounding more like a stampede of minotaurs. Waves began to batter Mitch and I as we clung to the "raft", which was already starting to come apart in the face of the unending crashing of waves.
It was only a matter of time, though that thought gave no condolence when it happened. As one final wave overtook and slammed into us, hard. Mitch and I where tossed apart and the "raft" broke up, well, more accurately it exploded. Pieces of wood and rope where flung in all directions and I found myself underwater.
When I reached the surface, I was lucky enough to be close to a fairly large piece of the mast and lashed an arm to it. Looking around in all directions for the rest of the "raft" and Mitch, all I saw was the rolling blackness of the water.
"MIITCH!! MIIIIITTTTTCCCHHHH!!!"
I called out to him until my throat was sore. Though against the crashes of the waves, the roar of the thunder and the downpour of the rain. I never got a response. And as I lay there, my right arm tied to a hunk of wood, floating aimlessly on the open sea, my body finally gave in to exhaustion and I passed out.
I don't know how long I was out or how I survived the night but, when I came to, it was light. The storm had passed and I could see land. It was Daris. It was Daris and I knew it was Daris and I swam like I never swam before in my life. So I'm exhausted, So Mitch might be dead now, So the bad guys might have everything they need to destroy the world as we know it. If I can make it back, then there is still a chance. Not a good chance by any measure, but better than no chance at all.
After about 20 minutes of non-stop paddling, I made it to shore.
Please, let's rest. Just lie down here and rest.
No time. Gotta move.
I stumbled into town, dripping wet and smelling of saltwater and seaweed. Toward the middle of town there where two people talking and one of them I recognized. Hobbling ever closer I managed to weakly call out before collapsing.
"Hea...Heaven" *thud*
"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. There is an idea, and ideas are bulletproof."
Distant seagull calls and the thunderous crash of the ocean echoed distantly in Mitchifer's head as he slowly regained consciousness. Everything was pitch black and he could hardly move, but a glimpse of light suddenly shot like an arrow into his vision. The bright sunlight gleamed through a small slit of his helmet's visor, blinding him annoyingly as he lay facedown in the sand. Over the years, has humor had acquired a desolate cynicism from each occassion of experiencing life-threatening situations such as this one, to dispel a bit of stress, and Mitch began silently cursing about arriving at a beach in hell. He began to recall his struggle against being halfway drowned by the storm's tumultuous currents and halfway suffocated by his own cape. And so on, until he eventually ran out of energy for that too.
Occassionally, horrible disastrous things happened that Mitch found himself to be apart of indefinately, such as what had occured just before he was washed up on shore, and tinges of humor suddenly simply gave way to wrath. The victory of being alive soon went out of his otherwise exhausted thoughts as his short-term memory lapse returned in full course, and he shouted angrily into the sandy ground which reverberated dully in his helm in return. He wanted to pound something with his fists in frustration, but he remained immobile without enough strength left in his body to even move his limbs.
So there Mitchifer lay, soaked and sapped, without even a clue as to where he was other than outside on a beach with lots of sand in his face. During any other time or situation, the predicament might have been comical, which it still is in an ironic sort of way with one god laughing in his face and his own god probably shaking his head and maybe even uttering a curse or two. But for Mitchifer who never felt more like a waterlog in his life, things were going to get worse before they got better.
He rested awhile until he could throw his full weight, plus the armor and the full amount of ocean water in it--with seaweed tangled around him along with his cape--over onto his back. And then he waited again to roll back over onto his stomach once he realized he couldn't get up to his feet in that position, and eventually hoisted himself up. As the ocean water rushed down from the many crevices in his armor, he began to trudge down along the damned ocean shore to collect the scattered remains of his inventory as he continued his wandering path.
Occassionally, horrible disastrous things happened that Mitch found himself to be apart of indefinately, such as what had occured just before he was washed up on shore, and tinges of humor suddenly simply gave way to wrath. The victory of being alive soon went out of his otherwise exhausted thoughts as his short-term memory lapse returned in full course, and he shouted angrily into the sandy ground which reverberated dully in his helm in return. He wanted to pound something with his fists in frustration, but he remained immobile without enough strength left in his body to even move his limbs.
So there Mitchifer lay, soaked and sapped, without even a clue as to where he was other than outside on a beach with lots of sand in his face. During any other time or situation, the predicament might have been comical, which it still is in an ironic sort of way with one god laughing in his face and his own god probably shaking his head and maybe even uttering a curse or two. But for Mitchifer who never felt more like a waterlog in his life, things were going to get worse before they got better.
He rested awhile until he could throw his full weight, plus the armor and the full amount of ocean water in it--with seaweed tangled around him along with his cape--over onto his back. And then he waited again to roll back over onto his stomach once he realized he couldn't get up to his feet in that position, and eventually hoisted himself up. As the ocean water rushed down from the many crevices in his armor, he began to trudge down along the damned ocean shore to collect the scattered remains of his inventory as he continued his wandering path.
-Mitchifer Haventhur, Pledged Outsider of Anu
-Lodoss The Beserker
-Frick "the frackin' rascal" Ryskil
-Murias Senner, Palemage
-Golem-36
-Lodoss The Beserker
-Frick "the frackin' rascal" Ryskil
-Murias Senner, Palemage
-Golem-36