It was gray, all gray.
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. Around her, they screamed out piteously, and thin, ethereal hands pulled at her hair and clothing, brushed over her skin, like the dry touch of a brittle leaf at the end of the autumn season. The faces of each one that had passed. They were endless.
You have one chance, Earth Child. One chance, to find him and pluck him from the sea. One chance to save him from this realm. If you fail, you shall remain here with him for eternity.
Time was running short. Arynne knew this, as the swirl of faces and voices threatened to pull her in. They were hungry for her, she could see it in the greed in their eyes, the anxious pull of their fingers. She was pure; she was something for them to feast on.
You must not speak a word, not until you have his hand grasped firmly in yours, and not until you have swum away from the maelstrom. Otherwise, they will follow your voice and they will pull you down.
Her eyes searched the swirling, frothing sea of faces desperately. She had not much longer; for once he was sucked in by that whirlpool, he would be beyond saving. One of these hundreds of thousands of faces; one of them was his. It had to be. For if he had already gone under...
No. Arynne would not harbor the thought. She returned to her desperate search, throwing the thrashing fingers of the many away from her. A skeletal hand reached out towards her cheek, and she felt a cold chill envelop her. She met the creature's eyes; it was a hideous, fowl creature with a gaping mouth and chilling eyes. She bit back a scream as she pried herself free of its grip, fought the tears of fear and hopelessness that tried to fall from her eyes. She would never find him... it was growing too late.. and they were able to reach her now. Soon, they would pull her in, and she would become one of them.
As she fought to stand steady in the whirling gale of damned souls, her gaze locked onto a spirit caught in the tides. The face was blurred, undistinguishable, perhaps already being devoured by the evils of that horrid sea: But the eyes. The eyes were unmistakable, and she found herself quite helpless for a moment while they locked onto hers.
Dravish... her mind called out, while vicious hands caught at her dress again...
Searching...
Moderator: Gamemasters
It was gray, all gray
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. Around him, they screamed, they fought to be away from the lone spirit whose soul was lost. The clutching hands which at first sought to pull him within the tide now fought to be away from this alien being.
Arynne,,,, a dagger.
Consciousness, thoughts..
She betrayed you Dravish..
The thoughts swept through the souls being, spoken words from a source which he knew to well..
Yes betrayal, yess Draaaavisshhhhh
A elf clad in rich robes of violat, sharp blue eyes and long dark hair.. In a sanded Arena..
Yes this was he, the memories returned...
Roughly clad barbarians fought to climb the walls to get to him, why were they after him,,,, wait..
He was not alone.. An elfess of exquisite beauty, her soft eyes looking to him imploringly... Yes the barbarians sought her.. Arynne
He drew the elfess close to shield her from the savages, but wait..
A dagger held to his chest, pushing towards him peircing his skin.. Pain...
Arynne,, why... betrayed..
It was gray, all gray
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. Around him, they screamed, they fought to be away from the lone spirit whose soul was lost. The clutching hands which at first sought to pull him within the tide now fought to be away from this alien being.
Searching,, a thought searching reaching...
Dravish..
A thought he should know, the voice within remembered..
Dravish!....
A figure in torn robes stood within a sand clad arena, dull red eyes framed within a skeletral skull, an evil curved smile sat mockingly upon the boney visage.
Knights dressed in thier armour, tried to break down the walls to the Arena, shouting to this creature..
He was not alone, a lone child stood before the beast, her black hair hiding most of her features.. her eyes looking to the figure with fear.
One of the Knights shouted out to the creature of the pits..
Dravish no!!
Why did they call the creature with this name..
He was the creature...
It was gray, all gray
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. A spirit among the many screamed out in anguish, those about it swarmed to the soul that was Dravish.. clawing, pulling. consuming...
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. Around him, they screamed, they fought to be away from the lone spirit whose soul was lost. The clutching hands which at first sought to pull him within the tide now fought to be away from this alien being.
Arynne,,,, a dagger.
Consciousness, thoughts..
She betrayed you Dravish..
The thoughts swept through the souls being, spoken words from a source which he knew to well..
Yes betrayal, yess Draaaavisshhhhh
A elf clad in rich robes of violat, sharp blue eyes and long dark hair.. In a sanded Arena..
Yes this was he, the memories returned...
Roughly clad barbarians fought to climb the walls to get to him, why were they after him,,,, wait..
He was not alone.. An elfess of exquisite beauty, her soft eyes looking to him imploringly... Yes the barbarians sought her.. Arynne
He drew the elfess close to shield her from the savages, but wait..
A dagger held to his chest, pushing towards him peircing his skin.. Pain...
Arynne,, why... betrayed..
It was gray, all gray
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. Around him, they screamed, they fought to be away from the lone spirit whose soul was lost. The clutching hands which at first sought to pull him within the tide now fought to be away from this alien being.
Searching,, a thought searching reaching...
Dravish..
A thought he should know, the voice within remembered..
Dravish!....
A figure in torn robes stood within a sand clad arena, dull red eyes framed within a skeletral skull, an evil curved smile sat mockingly upon the boney visage.
Knights dressed in thier armour, tried to break down the walls to the Arena, shouting to this creature..
He was not alone, a lone child stood before the beast, her black hair hiding most of her features.. her eyes looking to the figure with fear.
One of the Knights shouted out to the creature of the pits..
Dravish no!!
Why did they call the creature with this name..
He was the creature...
It was gray, all gray
Cherga's realm was a vicious swirling tide of colourless faces and toneless voices. A spirit among the many screamed out in anguish, those about it swarmed to the soul that was Dravish.. clawing, pulling. consuming...
-
Lady Arynne
- Posts: 101
- Joined: Mon May 16, 2005 12:26 am
He is naught more than a ghostly wretch of a thing as he swims by on Cherga's lonely tide. He is part of the masses of the wretched even as he is separate from them, for the burning of his eyes set him apart. Those eyes, that had led Arynne to him on darkest of nights, long ago. The burning, brilliant eyes, that even now while colourless and dead, had the power to hold her rooted to her spot, the power to make her do anything to reach their owner...
Anything.
Arynne pushes her way through the cold masses. Fingers and claws clutche at her, scrape her. The feeling is like ice-cold pain, the feeling is death all over again. With each touch of a ghostly digit, she can feel anew the warmth flowing over her chest; the sharp, relentless sting of the dagger in her heart; more wrenching, she can feel the way her soul had emptied along with her blood.
You knew all along it would be thus, Earth Child. You saw it on the water. The souls of men cannot be tamed and tethered, no matter how we might wish it so, and you knew this all along. Yet you loved him anyway. Whether the choice was right or no, it was the one you made. Now you have a choice again. Do you forgive him? Will you save him?
I will. Arynne answers immediately in her mind, and so she presses on. Each step is more difficult, for the deeper she enters this realm, the weaker she becomes.
This is difficult.
You don't belong here. You know this, they know this. Your essence, your soul, Earth Child. It burns bright even in this, the darkest of places, and they despise it.
It is draining her; this place. The draining of her soul is no longer part of her imagination, it is no longer a pained memory of Dravish's final betrayal, his choice of unearthly power over her vitality. Each clutching hand is tearing with it a piece of her spirit.
But she is close, so close. She cannot give up now. His eyes burn now only an armslength in front of her. She lifts her arm; it is heavy, and she notices with a sinking heart that several of the soulless ghost-things have gripped a firm hold of her, are pulling her down.
No! Dravish...
With sheer force of will, she stretches her arm out; can see his hand now, the ghostly remnant of it. Stretches, stretches....
Arynne's fingers meet his, and she grips his hand in the cold, the gray.
Anything.
Arynne pushes her way through the cold masses. Fingers and claws clutche at her, scrape her. The feeling is like ice-cold pain, the feeling is death all over again. With each touch of a ghostly digit, she can feel anew the warmth flowing over her chest; the sharp, relentless sting of the dagger in her heart; more wrenching, she can feel the way her soul had emptied along with her blood.
You knew all along it would be thus, Earth Child. You saw it on the water. The souls of men cannot be tamed and tethered, no matter how we might wish it so, and you knew this all along. Yet you loved him anyway. Whether the choice was right or no, it was the one you made. Now you have a choice again. Do you forgive him? Will you save him?
I will. Arynne answers immediately in her mind, and so she presses on. Each step is more difficult, for the deeper she enters this realm, the weaker she becomes.
This is difficult.
You don't belong here. You know this, they know this. Your essence, your soul, Earth Child. It burns bright even in this, the darkest of places, and they despise it.
It is draining her; this place. The draining of her soul is no longer part of her imagination, it is no longer a pained memory of Dravish's final betrayal, his choice of unearthly power over her vitality. Each clutching hand is tearing with it a piece of her spirit.
But she is close, so close. She cannot give up now. His eyes burn now only an armslength in front of her. She lifts her arm; it is heavy, and she notices with a sinking heart that several of the soulless ghost-things have gripped a firm hold of her, are pulling her down.
No! Dravish...
With sheer force of will, she stretches her arm out; can see his hand now, the ghostly remnant of it. Stretches, stretches....
Arynne's fingers meet his, and she grips his hand in the cold, the gray.
Games and torment, the creatures of this realm loved him so, every moment he was faced with love and betrayel, false hope and pain. At first he had fought these spirits who's torment was beyond pain, who played with what remained of his mind. But still they returned. Was this his fate..
One choice was left, stop fighting, surrender...
Floating aimlessly through the grey, the claws upon his being no longer mattered, what is pain when one has done what he had done. This was no pain it was justice.
The only solace through the torment, memories. Guarded memories, small fragments he clutched to with all his being.
Arynne, his life his bane... Her fair hair and soft eye's, her sweet smile which put the sun to shame.
Where had he lost his path...
Sitting beside the lake, arm in arm, looking to the setting sun..
Why did he give this up..
A shared kiss..
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time seemed endless, the grey surrounded him as allways and the blighted creatures continued thier torment. but the surrounding void was not the only emptiness, As the time had passed, allready he had resigned himself to this fate, given up on any hope, the grey surrounded him, the grey was within him. The grey conusmed him.
The ghouls mockings reached into his being as he drifted, thier persistant mocking.
What was this, a different feeling.. Warmth, touch.
Dravish's eyes open, the light of the damned once more growing within the empty sockets. One of the creatures had his hand.. And yes this one also looked like the light, the one he had lost, another tormentor. Did they never tire of these games, the glow within his eyes subsides as he reaches back within himself...
But something was amiss,,
His eyes once more take life and his gaze sweeps the void about him,, touch warmth... The creatues sensed this as well as he and were allready dragging this mysterious yet beautifull spirit into thier darkness. The grey reached to her to consume her..
No...
The strength, the power, Dravish reached within himself, awakening that which he had put to rest, his gaze brightens, the red seeming to burn through the grey, its fabric seeming to welt.
Arynne, No!
His will exerts itself, the force like a hammer upon ice.. his grip upon the elfesses hand tightens and his essence flows through the contact, what was his was to be hers, as he had once said, as he had promised.
His eyes dim as what was left to he, flows into the one to whom he had sworn himself..
One choice was left, stop fighting, surrender...
Floating aimlessly through the grey, the claws upon his being no longer mattered, what is pain when one has done what he had done. This was no pain it was justice.
The only solace through the torment, memories. Guarded memories, small fragments he clutched to with all his being.
Arynne, his life his bane... Her fair hair and soft eye's, her sweet smile which put the sun to shame.
Where had he lost his path...
Sitting beside the lake, arm in arm, looking to the setting sun..
Why did he give this up..
A shared kiss..
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time seemed endless, the grey surrounded him as allways and the blighted creatures continued thier torment. but the surrounding void was not the only emptiness, As the time had passed, allready he had resigned himself to this fate, given up on any hope, the grey surrounded him, the grey was within him. The grey conusmed him.
The ghouls mockings reached into his being as he drifted, thier persistant mocking.
What was this, a different feeling.. Warmth, touch.
Dravish's eyes open, the light of the damned once more growing within the empty sockets. One of the creatures had his hand.. And yes this one also looked like the light, the one he had lost, another tormentor. Did they never tire of these games, the glow within his eyes subsides as he reaches back within himself...
But something was amiss,,
His eyes once more take life and his gaze sweeps the void about him,, touch warmth... The creatues sensed this as well as he and were allready dragging this mysterious yet beautifull spirit into thier darkness. The grey reached to her to consume her..
No...
The strength, the power, Dravish reached within himself, awakening that which he had put to rest, his gaze brightens, the red seeming to burn through the grey, its fabric seeming to welt.
Arynne, No!
His will exerts itself, the force like a hammer upon ice.. his grip upon the elfesses hand tightens and his essence flows through the contact, what was his was to be hers, as he had once said, as he had promised.
His eyes dim as what was left to he, flows into the one to whom he had sworn himself..
-
Lady Arynne
- Posts: 101
- Joined: Mon May 16, 2005 12:26 am
Arynne feels his cold, skeletal fingers grasp back. Their eyes meet, her own the same light-filled soft green they have always been; his, burning red embers, as they were doomed to become after he traded his mortal body for unnameable power.
The touch of his hand, the bony, dead thing that he has become, it is almost unbearable. Arynne's eyes blur with tears, as they do each time she is confronted with the transformation he had made.
Oh, but he was so beautiful before! Arynne thinks uselessly, and for a moment all she can see is the deep, dark, wonderfully and terribly glinting depths that had been his gaze. The surprising softness the hands had held as they brushed through her locks, tangled there. The magnetic intensity he had kissed her with, that had sent shivers down her spine. The soft, dark curtain of hair that had swung across his shoulders, shadowing his face slightly, only accentuating those mysterious eyes further.
And Arynne forgets, just for a moment, that these are no longer the feautures of the broken man whose hand she clasps. Just for a moment, he is as he once was, wonderfully terrible.
She grips his hand tightly, and begins to wade through the current of death, of broken spirits, of cold swirling nothingess.
The clutching at her skirts, her arms, her hair, it continues. But she will find the strength to go on. She must find the strength to go on. Once, she slips in her steps; hands rush to pull her down but she forces herself on, pushing and puling and straining. It is more difficult than she could ever imagine. The evil, ghastly creatures want to pull her in, and guiding Dravish is slowing her down some. She doesn't look back, and though her footing is unsure, her grip on her companion's hand never is. She is nearing the way out now, the delicious little circle of light that indicates te portal out of this cold, dead realm.
Just three more steps, two, one...
And then, oh, then.
The creatures, the swirling, disgusting creatures, change their tactics. When the portal is within an armslength, when the path before them is clear...
The creatures swirl around her arm, the one that guides Dravish. Icy fingers pull at her own digits, pull so hard that it hurts. They are trying to pry her fingers away from Dravish. Her feet are over the threshold, and so they must renounce their claim on her, but he, he is still fair game, and they are determined not to lose two bodies this night.
Biting her tongue literally to keep from screaming out, and losing him after all this, Arynne tugs desperately at him. She must get him across before she loses her grip...
But they have him grasped firmly now, and his hand is sliding slowly back out of her own, despite all her efforts.
And for the first time since first gripping his hand, she takes a look at him.
He is changing.
Where there had been only bone, now a delicate, thin skin covers, and beneath there are muscles and blood vessels and everything else that would make him living; where there was nothing on his skull, there is a thin curtain of dark hair. Where the face had been blank, now his own face, the one she loves, is staring back at her - but faintly, oh so faintly. The eyes are the only thing that remain the same. Still, they are burning scarlet.
While Arynne gazes into his face, quite lost, the creatures seize their advantage and tug on him again. His hand slips almost completely out of her grasp, and Dravish is pulled several inches backwards into the maelstrom. As he recedes back into the swirling mass, Arynne can see more of the skeletal form beneath the delicate skin.
With shock, Arynne realizes that it is the place itself that is keeping him from regaining his earthly looks. The further back he goes, the closer he becomes to his lich self. The closer to the edge he gets, the more his elven self he becomes.
Which means...
Yes, Child of Ushara. You have guessed correctly. If you bring him out, he may return to himself - but only if his heart is true. He will be judged, and only if his heart is true beneath all of the blackness, only then will the hateful scarlet leave his eyes, and only then will he be saved, truly.
Arynne's eyes widen slightly. But if that was true, then...
Yes. If you fail to bring him across my threshold, then he will remain behind in my realm, cursed forever to the form of a lich. Over time, it will eat him away, and whatever is left in his heart will never be known, and it will be destroyed. Whatever he is now, if he is left here, there will be nothing but evil left.
With renewed determination, Arynne grips onto his hand, and pulls, desperate to have him cross over.
But the spirits are desperate too. As hard as she pulls, they match it, and then some. He is, slowly but surely, slipping away from her. She will not let it happen. She cannot.
Arynne takes one step forward, back into the swirling tides, and grips his hand anew.
She pulls him away, towards the edge, towards the way out. But something is different. She is moving so slowly... and funny, the place doesn't seem as cold as it once had.
Arynne looks down at their joined hands, deciding to focus on saving him, instead of on the sprits. and what she sees makes her heart plummet and her spirit fail.
Where there had been, only seconds ago, smooth white skin on her hand, her hand is now dry, dead bone.
It has happened. They have begun to take her in.
Arynne screams.
*~*~*
You must not speak a word, not until you have his hand grasped firmly in yours, and not until you have swum away from the maelstrom. Otherwise, they will follow your voice and they will pull you down.
...
If you fail to bring him across my threshold, then he will remain behind in my realm
...
*~*~*
Despair. It is such a wicked thing. It is like the worst of beasts, the way it nests inside of the heart, and begins to chew it there. It is this bitter gnawing sensation that fills Arynne as the two of them begin to float backwards on the gray tide, back deeper and deeper within the real of the Goddess of the Dead. The flow is slower now, the frantic writhing and swirling of the spirits seeming to have dissipated now they are certain they have their prey. And such a prey. The greed of the dreadful creatures is tangible as they carry along the sweet elfess.
And their greed is wasted, the elfess can't help but think bitterly, For I've failed, I've failed. And now they have me. There is nothing left to me that is worth preying upon, nothign of that light the Goddess spoke of. There is nothing.
The tide continues to carry them away.
*~*~*
Oh, if only she could see, the one muses to the other, If only she could see herself from where she lies. The light within her is so bright it is blinding, but she's lost sight of it, and so soon.
I did expect that this child of yours would be made of sterner stuff, the other replies, I didn't think she woud give up so easily. Besides, you agree that the rules dictate that to this point, the game is mine. It was set this way, and it's only fair to keep to your word.
Oh, of course, Younger Sister, the first says, waving her hand dismissively, I am not changing any rules. I just wish there was a little something I could do, to show her... to help her find her own strength.
Oh, there is nothing you or I can do, the second says in a strange tone, and then narrows her eyes, whispering her next words with emphasis, Because we are not there with her.
The touch of his hand, the bony, dead thing that he has become, it is almost unbearable. Arynne's eyes blur with tears, as they do each time she is confronted with the transformation he had made.
Oh, but he was so beautiful before! Arynne thinks uselessly, and for a moment all she can see is the deep, dark, wonderfully and terribly glinting depths that had been his gaze. The surprising softness the hands had held as they brushed through her locks, tangled there. The magnetic intensity he had kissed her with, that had sent shivers down her spine. The soft, dark curtain of hair that had swung across his shoulders, shadowing his face slightly, only accentuating those mysterious eyes further.
And Arynne forgets, just for a moment, that these are no longer the feautures of the broken man whose hand she clasps. Just for a moment, he is as he once was, wonderfully terrible.
She grips his hand tightly, and begins to wade through the current of death, of broken spirits, of cold swirling nothingess.
The clutching at her skirts, her arms, her hair, it continues. But she will find the strength to go on. She must find the strength to go on. Once, she slips in her steps; hands rush to pull her down but she forces herself on, pushing and puling and straining. It is more difficult than she could ever imagine. The evil, ghastly creatures want to pull her in, and guiding Dravish is slowing her down some. She doesn't look back, and though her footing is unsure, her grip on her companion's hand never is. She is nearing the way out now, the delicious little circle of light that indicates te portal out of this cold, dead realm.
Just three more steps, two, one...
And then, oh, then.
The creatures, the swirling, disgusting creatures, change their tactics. When the portal is within an armslength, when the path before them is clear...
The creatures swirl around her arm, the one that guides Dravish. Icy fingers pull at her own digits, pull so hard that it hurts. They are trying to pry her fingers away from Dravish. Her feet are over the threshold, and so they must renounce their claim on her, but he, he is still fair game, and they are determined not to lose two bodies this night.
Biting her tongue literally to keep from screaming out, and losing him after all this, Arynne tugs desperately at him. She must get him across before she loses her grip...
But they have him grasped firmly now, and his hand is sliding slowly back out of her own, despite all her efforts.
And for the first time since first gripping his hand, she takes a look at him.
He is changing.
Where there had been only bone, now a delicate, thin skin covers, and beneath there are muscles and blood vessels and everything else that would make him living; where there was nothing on his skull, there is a thin curtain of dark hair. Where the face had been blank, now his own face, the one she loves, is staring back at her - but faintly, oh so faintly. The eyes are the only thing that remain the same. Still, they are burning scarlet.
While Arynne gazes into his face, quite lost, the creatures seize their advantage and tug on him again. His hand slips almost completely out of her grasp, and Dravish is pulled several inches backwards into the maelstrom. As he recedes back into the swirling mass, Arynne can see more of the skeletal form beneath the delicate skin.
With shock, Arynne realizes that it is the place itself that is keeping him from regaining his earthly looks. The further back he goes, the closer he becomes to his lich self. The closer to the edge he gets, the more his elven self he becomes.
Which means...
Yes, Child of Ushara. You have guessed correctly. If you bring him out, he may return to himself - but only if his heart is true. He will be judged, and only if his heart is true beneath all of the blackness, only then will the hateful scarlet leave his eyes, and only then will he be saved, truly.
Arynne's eyes widen slightly. But if that was true, then...
Yes. If you fail to bring him across my threshold, then he will remain behind in my realm, cursed forever to the form of a lich. Over time, it will eat him away, and whatever is left in his heart will never be known, and it will be destroyed. Whatever he is now, if he is left here, there will be nothing but evil left.
With renewed determination, Arynne grips onto his hand, and pulls, desperate to have him cross over.
But the spirits are desperate too. As hard as she pulls, they match it, and then some. He is, slowly but surely, slipping away from her. She will not let it happen. She cannot.
Arynne takes one step forward, back into the swirling tides, and grips his hand anew.
She pulls him away, towards the edge, towards the way out. But something is different. She is moving so slowly... and funny, the place doesn't seem as cold as it once had.
Arynne looks down at their joined hands, deciding to focus on saving him, instead of on the sprits. and what she sees makes her heart plummet and her spirit fail.
Where there had been, only seconds ago, smooth white skin on her hand, her hand is now dry, dead bone.
It has happened. They have begun to take her in.
Arynne screams.
*~*~*
You must not speak a word, not until you have his hand grasped firmly in yours, and not until you have swum away from the maelstrom. Otherwise, they will follow your voice and they will pull you down.
...
If you fail to bring him across my threshold, then he will remain behind in my realm
...
*~*~*
Despair. It is such a wicked thing. It is like the worst of beasts, the way it nests inside of the heart, and begins to chew it there. It is this bitter gnawing sensation that fills Arynne as the two of them begin to float backwards on the gray tide, back deeper and deeper within the real of the Goddess of the Dead. The flow is slower now, the frantic writhing and swirling of the spirits seeming to have dissipated now they are certain they have their prey. And such a prey. The greed of the dreadful creatures is tangible as they carry along the sweet elfess.
And their greed is wasted, the elfess can't help but think bitterly, For I've failed, I've failed. And now they have me. There is nothing left to me that is worth preying upon, nothign of that light the Goddess spoke of. There is nothing.
The tide continues to carry them away.
*~*~*
Oh, if only she could see, the one muses to the other, If only she could see herself from where she lies. The light within her is so bright it is blinding, but she's lost sight of it, and so soon.
I did expect that this child of yours would be made of sterner stuff, the other replies, I didn't think she woud give up so easily. Besides, you agree that the rules dictate that to this point, the game is mine. It was set this way, and it's only fair to keep to your word.
Oh, of course, Younger Sister, the first says, waving her hand dismissively, I am not changing any rules. I just wish there was a little something I could do, to show her... to help her find her own strength.
Oh, there is nothing you or I can do, the second says in a strange tone, and then narrows her eyes, whispering her next words with emphasis, Because we are not there with her.
They near the portal, and yet he cares not. This fate is his to be deserved, why does Arynne not leave him. The creatures pull upon his tattered robes, and the abyss looms behind them, the sight before him both fills him with love and dread.
Arynne had come for him, the beautifull auburn haired elfess, he could see her once more before he was to be swept into the maelstram. The portal grew closer, yet the creatures would not release thier prize. The force of thier attacks grew in strength, and Dravish knew there was no hope, it was over as he knew it would be, but Arynne, was safe she could escape to where she was meant to be..
Releasing her hand, he feels the ghouls sense of triumph, as they pulled himself into thier embrace, the cold wet claws resting upon his figure, thier putrid essence merging into his soul. Drifitng back, drifting ..
The flow stops, and the creatures about him scream out in anger. What has happned. Something grasps his hand..
Once more his eyes open, once more he can see Arynne,, no. What has she done.
Allready the creatures were drifting behind the lady,, she had come to far, she had lost her cord to her freedom.. He knew this, the ghouls knew this, and it seemed that the grey itself knew this. The aura about the lady which she could not see, yet which was so visable to everything within this forsaken realm was faltering, and the all consuming Grey was settling about the fragile elfesses body, enveloping her, claiming her.
He can feel her grip weaken, slowly yet surely the pressure about his hand lessons.. Her features begin to change before his eyes, her once youthfull skin seems to age before his eyes, then her mouth opens, the sound emerging a peircing scream which tears into the lich's soul..
No, this was not a part of the bargain.
She was to be free.
Her soul was her own.
She was to be free for eternity.
The deal which was struck was now broken.
The lich's eyes flare into life, the burning gaze which marked him in his undeath once more consumed his features.
The bargain struck was now broken.
Energy courses through the creature which was once Dravish's limbs and he pulls forward towards the now vanishing portal, Chergas ghouls scream once more in anger, but thier crys reach not the lich's ears. Onwards, towards the light.
Arynne..
Dravish reaches out and places his arms about the elfess, cradling her to him as he moves onwards, the ghouls seek thier prize still, clawing upon the damned creatures body, but the powers which were his to commaned in death still reached to this realm, cloaking him in a shield, a dwindling shield..
As the portal neared, the shrieks about them intensified in volume, and the elfess in his arms seemed to glow the brighter, her soul returning to the body, the age which the realm had placed upon her in the Grey receeding.
The portal grew closer, yet as Arynne gained life, as did the one whom carried her in his arms.. The visage of an elf seems to appear upon the lichs features, the flowing black hair and the scarlet eyes.... Yet as this form took shape, the strength which came from his undeath.. the powers which he kept in death dwindled, the aura about himself faded, and the creatures of the realm grew more brave, reaching forward and ripping into the shadowery elf.
A feeling which was once forgotten returns, pain..
Onwards, she must survive, no more mattered. A promise was spoken, and this was not to be broken, she would be free.
Closer..
Arynne had come for him, the beautifull auburn haired elfess, he could see her once more before he was to be swept into the maelstram. The portal grew closer, yet the creatures would not release thier prize. The force of thier attacks grew in strength, and Dravish knew there was no hope, it was over as he knew it would be, but Arynne, was safe she could escape to where she was meant to be..
Releasing her hand, he feels the ghouls sense of triumph, as they pulled himself into thier embrace, the cold wet claws resting upon his figure, thier putrid essence merging into his soul. Drifitng back, drifting ..
The flow stops, and the creatures about him scream out in anger. What has happned. Something grasps his hand..
Once more his eyes open, once more he can see Arynne,, no. What has she done.
Allready the creatures were drifting behind the lady,, she had come to far, she had lost her cord to her freedom.. He knew this, the ghouls knew this, and it seemed that the grey itself knew this. The aura about the lady which she could not see, yet which was so visable to everything within this forsaken realm was faltering, and the all consuming Grey was settling about the fragile elfesses body, enveloping her, claiming her.
He can feel her grip weaken, slowly yet surely the pressure about his hand lessons.. Her features begin to change before his eyes, her once youthfull skin seems to age before his eyes, then her mouth opens, the sound emerging a peircing scream which tears into the lich's soul..
No, this was not a part of the bargain.
She was to be free.
Her soul was her own.
She was to be free for eternity.
The deal which was struck was now broken.
The lich's eyes flare into life, the burning gaze which marked him in his undeath once more consumed his features.
The bargain struck was now broken.
Energy courses through the creature which was once Dravish's limbs and he pulls forward towards the now vanishing portal, Chergas ghouls scream once more in anger, but thier crys reach not the lich's ears. Onwards, towards the light.
Arynne..
Dravish reaches out and places his arms about the elfess, cradling her to him as he moves onwards, the ghouls seek thier prize still, clawing upon the damned creatures body, but the powers which were his to commaned in death still reached to this realm, cloaking him in a shield, a dwindling shield..
As the portal neared, the shrieks about them intensified in volume, and the elfess in his arms seemed to glow the brighter, her soul returning to the body, the age which the realm had placed upon her in the Grey receeding.
The portal grew closer, yet as Arynne gained life, as did the one whom carried her in his arms.. The visage of an elf seems to appear upon the lichs features, the flowing black hair and the scarlet eyes.... Yet as this form took shape, the strength which came from his undeath.. the powers which he kept in death dwindled, the aura about himself faded, and the creatures of the realm grew more brave, reaching forward and ripping into the shadowery elf.
A feeling which was once forgotten returns, pain..
Onwards, she must survive, no more mattered. A promise was spoken, and this was not to be broken, she would be free.
Closer..
-
Lady Arynne
- Posts: 101
- Joined: Mon May 16, 2005 12:26 am
Arynne is scarecely aware of anything by the time that Dravish begins to fight towards the portal again. The despair looms and threatens to take over her heart, and they are perhaps halfway there when it dawns on her that they are once again going against the tide. Her eyes look up to him; the scarlet gleams strong in his eyes, from the skeletal face.. but then... as they draw closer, she can once again see the semblance of his old self. As his self returns though, his strength seems to fade. The burning scarlet gaze dims somewhatl his steps falter, slow. They are so close, though, oh so close.
Arynne feels the creatures pulling at her, pulling at him, and yet still he presses on. Only ten paces away from the edge now, the portal growing ever dimmer, closing.
The spirits tug, and Arynne is nearly loosed entirely from his grasp again. No, she will not let them be separated again. She knows this is the last chance. They must free themselves now, or they never will be freed at all. She grips onto his hand as tight as she can and she tries to help him; together, the two of them struggle, their footsteps slow, tiny, and barely progressing.
The spirit-creatures pull and tear at them, and the closer they get to the portal, the more painful it is, these creatures' touch.
Together, pulling, fighting, struggling, carrying on.
Each working for the others' life, each growing weaker with every step. And oh, how the tearing hands hurt now.
Five more steps, four, three, two...
And suddenly, the creatures' tearing becomes frenzied, more harsh. Their hands are ripping skin and hair and clothing clear away. Even this close to the portal, the two become naught but bone and spirit again, as the creatures steal away what is left of their fragile bodies. A fire is lit, somehow; thier feet are upon it now. One more step... With the greatest wrench of effort she has ever exerted, Arynne steps over the boundary at last, her hand still clutched in Dravish's.. and then... she pulls.
The elf is consumed in harsh, bright flames, and the creatures pull of his skin, his hair. In his eyes is a scream, but the pain is beyond voicing. Arynne pulls.
Dravish tumbles forward, the rotting skin weak, still smoking some.
But they are through. They have made it.
*~*~*
All was almost lost for both of you, she muses, but then smiles, an almost sinister, crone-like smile. But now matter. Now you are here before me, and I shall give you what I promised you, although your near-failure is not without repurcussions. Her gaze sweeps over the two of them; over Dravish's intact but badly injured frame; over Arynne, who has lost almost everything but her spirit, her soul, and even that has dimmed. She has remained far too long in this realm, and much of her self was lost. The Goddess waves her hand, and Arynne's body is covered with a delicate, new skin. Her head is covered with a new, light-brown, straight, somewhat thin hair. She is changed. Only her eyes remain what they were in her previous life, although the spirits have left a mark even there, and they have lost the brilliant, innocent underlight that they once held. The effect is different, darker.
For Dravish, she only repairs what is already there, enough for him to appear and live in a human world. But he is horribly wounded; cuts and scars cross his skin, a broken arm.
Arynne, for her part, is still wounded with a broken leg and some wounds from the spirits of the realm; and two other marks, two things remaining from her old skin. A cut, long and dark, across her forearm, and one across her chest: The places that mark Dravish's betrayal.
Dravish, for his part, also bears a very dark wound between two of his lower ribs; the place where Arynne, in the end, slid her own dagger.
Most of your injuries will heal with time. I will not heal them for you, for you do not deserve such things. You both have tainted yourselves with your actions, and it is only Arynne's purity at the end that allows you this second chance. But it shall not be easy...
The scars you gave to each other, those shall never fade. They will remain, dark and hideous as always, to remind the world that neither of you will ever be wholly pure again. Your voices, too, will fall upon deaf ears forevermore when you should choose to pray. None of us will hear you, none of us will keep any watch over you. This is your mission now, and you are doomed to complete it completely alone. Should you successfully right your wrongs, make up for the past, then perhaps we will open ourselves to you once more, but until then, we forsake you. Both of you.
The Goddess turns her gaze to Arynne, whose green eyes blaze out.
One more thing. You almost lost Dravish in the abyss when you were startled by the sight of his face. So, you shall never have sight of his face or anything else again, not until after you have found him and saved him without its use. After you find him, and save him, your sight may return.
The Goddess looks them over, and then nods, waving her hand.
Dravish, with her sight too, goes your memory. You will remember nothing of the past, for your heart must be judged, and you will be left to make your own judgements without knowledge of their consequences. Let's see if you can do this right the second time. Arynne, you will remember his betrayal; it will tear your heart apart, will gnaw you from inside, will make you forever wonder if all you've done for him is in vain. It might even make you stop loving him. But you are forbidden to tell him any of the past, or indeed it will all be in vain, for my promise to re-judge you will be void. Now...
Be gone.
And the Earth and the Heavens opened, and far at the western end, a badly wounded male elf crawled forth, and in the East, as the sun rose, an elfess fell from the sky, similarly disfigured.
Arynne feels the creatures pulling at her, pulling at him, and yet still he presses on. Only ten paces away from the edge now, the portal growing ever dimmer, closing.
The spirits tug, and Arynne is nearly loosed entirely from his grasp again. No, she will not let them be separated again. She knows this is the last chance. They must free themselves now, or they never will be freed at all. She grips onto his hand as tight as she can and she tries to help him; together, the two of them struggle, their footsteps slow, tiny, and barely progressing.
The spirit-creatures pull and tear at them, and the closer they get to the portal, the more painful it is, these creatures' touch.
Together, pulling, fighting, struggling, carrying on.
Each working for the others' life, each growing weaker with every step. And oh, how the tearing hands hurt now.
Five more steps, four, three, two...
And suddenly, the creatures' tearing becomes frenzied, more harsh. Their hands are ripping skin and hair and clothing clear away. Even this close to the portal, the two become naught but bone and spirit again, as the creatures steal away what is left of their fragile bodies. A fire is lit, somehow; thier feet are upon it now. One more step... With the greatest wrench of effort she has ever exerted, Arynne steps over the boundary at last, her hand still clutched in Dravish's.. and then... she pulls.
The elf is consumed in harsh, bright flames, and the creatures pull of his skin, his hair. In his eyes is a scream, but the pain is beyond voicing. Arynne pulls.
Dravish tumbles forward, the rotting skin weak, still smoking some.
But they are through. They have made it.
*~*~*
All was almost lost for both of you, she muses, but then smiles, an almost sinister, crone-like smile. But now matter. Now you are here before me, and I shall give you what I promised you, although your near-failure is not without repurcussions. Her gaze sweeps over the two of them; over Dravish's intact but badly injured frame; over Arynne, who has lost almost everything but her spirit, her soul, and even that has dimmed. She has remained far too long in this realm, and much of her self was lost. The Goddess waves her hand, and Arynne's body is covered with a delicate, new skin. Her head is covered with a new, light-brown, straight, somewhat thin hair. She is changed. Only her eyes remain what they were in her previous life, although the spirits have left a mark even there, and they have lost the brilliant, innocent underlight that they once held. The effect is different, darker.
For Dravish, she only repairs what is already there, enough for him to appear and live in a human world. But he is horribly wounded; cuts and scars cross his skin, a broken arm.
Arynne, for her part, is still wounded with a broken leg and some wounds from the spirits of the realm; and two other marks, two things remaining from her old skin. A cut, long and dark, across her forearm, and one across her chest: The places that mark Dravish's betrayal.
Dravish, for his part, also bears a very dark wound between two of his lower ribs; the place where Arynne, in the end, slid her own dagger.
Most of your injuries will heal with time. I will not heal them for you, for you do not deserve such things. You both have tainted yourselves with your actions, and it is only Arynne's purity at the end that allows you this second chance. But it shall not be easy...
The scars you gave to each other, those shall never fade. They will remain, dark and hideous as always, to remind the world that neither of you will ever be wholly pure again. Your voices, too, will fall upon deaf ears forevermore when you should choose to pray. None of us will hear you, none of us will keep any watch over you. This is your mission now, and you are doomed to complete it completely alone. Should you successfully right your wrongs, make up for the past, then perhaps we will open ourselves to you once more, but until then, we forsake you. Both of you.
The Goddess turns her gaze to Arynne, whose green eyes blaze out.
One more thing. You almost lost Dravish in the abyss when you were startled by the sight of his face. So, you shall never have sight of his face or anything else again, not until after you have found him and saved him without its use. After you find him, and save him, your sight may return.
The Goddess looks them over, and then nods, waving her hand.
Dravish, with her sight too, goes your memory. You will remember nothing of the past, for your heart must be judged, and you will be left to make your own judgements without knowledge of their consequences. Let's see if you can do this right the second time. Arynne, you will remember his betrayal; it will tear your heart apart, will gnaw you from inside, will make you forever wonder if all you've done for him is in vain. It might even make you stop loving him. But you are forbidden to tell him any of the past, or indeed it will all be in vain, for my promise to re-judge you will be void. Now...
Be gone.
And the Earth and the Heavens opened, and far at the western end, a badly wounded male elf crawled forth, and in the East, as the sun rose, an elfess fell from the sky, similarly disfigured.