((Closed RP))
It appeared again. It was fearful and petrifying as it had always been. A simple glance at it was enough to give the shivers and the feeling of horror and awful dread. It then began to walk, moving in a demonic pace, quicker and quicker after each step, towards him and approaching him, the horror overpowering his body, no time to react, no time to think, it closed in on him and then...
...he opened his eyes, and what was felt like an afflicting agony now contrasted with the peace and stillness of the night, no sound except for the water waves rustling calmly against the shore and the whispering of the cold wind.
He was sweating profusely despite the chilly air around. The small wooden raft he was on came to a stop as it scraped against the sloping coast, and this surprised the young boy once he had noticed it. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, looking around and scrutinizing the place.
He swung the bag around his shoulders and clinched onto the untied scabbard of his sword, then hesitated as he made his first step onto the land of Gobaith. He set afoot then, towards the city in the vicinity, a slow and uncertain stride, but susceptible to any noise around.
The Shadows in Mind and the Shadows Behind
Moderator: Gamemasters
The Shadows in Mind and the Shadows Behind
Last edited by Elisai on Mon May 07, 2007 11:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Far away, upon the mainland, behind the planes of Serin …
The man in the black clothes hurriedly ran down the narrow tunnel, leading down the cave. His face underneath the hood was grimacing at the thought to bring his lord the news. Or better said, no news at all.
At the end of tunnel the area widened. ‘Cave’ was actually an understatement. A whole army would have had space here, underneath the nameless mountains. And the black cultist knew that creating such an army was the littlest problem.
But right now the cave was empty. Lifeless, even. Only one creature was looking down on a whole arsenal of weaponry, upon the table, in the west end of the cave. Though he had no real ‘features’, the man in the black clothes was able to sense the lichs bad mood. Some kind fear crawled into his still living heart.
“My Lord…?”, the man raised his voice, but immediately lowered his eyes as he approached to the boney creature that just took one of the finely crafted swords into his hands.
“I hope you’re coming with news that are finally of use for me” – the voice was close to the hiss of a snake.
“Yes and no, my lord. We were informed that he left with a ship … westwards.”
The lich turned around, facing the cultist. “Westwards! Do you know how many islands we have in the west? And you come here and tell me that he took a ship westwards!?” The boney hand gripped tighter around the sword handle and the cultist didn’t reply. In this moment it was better to say nothing, than to risk saying anything wrong.
“Useless, mortal scum! Do you have the slightest clue of what will happen”, … the hissing voice of the lich raised even more and echoed now in hall-like cave. “… when I have to face Cherass and tell him WHAT HAPPENED WITH HIS PRECIOUS GIFT?!”
With a clash the sword landed upon the table as the enraged creature threw it away and made a gesture towards the tunnel. “Leave, will you! You will come back tomorrow and don’t dare you won’t be able to tell me the childs location by then!”
The man in the black clothes hurriedly ran down the narrow tunnel, leading down the cave. His face underneath the hood was grimacing at the thought to bring his lord the news. Or better said, no news at all.
At the end of tunnel the area widened. ‘Cave’ was actually an understatement. A whole army would have had space here, underneath the nameless mountains. And the black cultist knew that creating such an army was the littlest problem.
But right now the cave was empty. Lifeless, even. Only one creature was looking down on a whole arsenal of weaponry, upon the table, in the west end of the cave. Though he had no real ‘features’, the man in the black clothes was able to sense the lichs bad mood. Some kind fear crawled into his still living heart.
“My Lord…?”, the man raised his voice, but immediately lowered his eyes as he approached to the boney creature that just took one of the finely crafted swords into his hands.
“I hope you’re coming with news that are finally of use for me” – the voice was close to the hiss of a snake.
“Yes and no, my lord. We were informed that he left with a ship … westwards.”
The lich turned around, facing the cultist. “Westwards! Do you know how many islands we have in the west? And you come here and tell me that he took a ship westwards!?” The boney hand gripped tighter around the sword handle and the cultist didn’t reply. In this moment it was better to say nothing, than to risk saying anything wrong.
“Useless, mortal scum! Do you have the slightest clue of what will happen”, … the hissing voice of the lich raised even more and echoed now in hall-like cave. “… when I have to face Cherass and tell him WHAT HAPPENED WITH HIS PRECIOUS GIFT?!”
With a clash the sword landed upon the table as the enraged creature threw it away and made a gesture towards the tunnel. “Leave, will you! You will come back tomorrow and don’t dare you won’t be able to tell me the childs location by then!”
"Gobaith?"
- "Gobaith."
The lich nodded and he would probably smirk he if would have lips to do so. But the black cultist was able to sense the lichs satisfaction.
"Good. It took already long enough for figuring it out.", the voice of the lich was hissing as usually. "Pathetic child thought it could flee. I should break its legs first when I get a grip on it. Now go, and prepare everything for our small travel."
The blackcultist nodded quickly, before turning on his heels. The lich was leaning his chair, gazing down at map infront of him. Gobaith...
Two small and delicate hands rested down on his shoulder bones and the lich didn't need to turn to see who it was. A soft and quiet voice, sounded from behind him. "This island?, the pale woman gazed over his shoulders to have a look upon the map. "We will have an easy game. Don't worry. "
- "Gobaith."
The lich nodded and he would probably smirk he if would have lips to do so. But the black cultist was able to sense the lichs satisfaction.
"Good. It took already long enough for figuring it out.", the voice of the lich was hissing as usually. "Pathetic child thought it could flee. I should break its legs first when I get a grip on it. Now go, and prepare everything for our small travel."
The blackcultist nodded quickly, before turning on his heels. The lich was leaning his chair, gazing down at map infront of him. Gobaith...
Two small and delicate hands rested down on his shoulder bones and the lich didn't need to turn to see who it was. A soft and quiet voice, sounded from behind him. "This island?, the pale woman gazed over his shoulders to have a look upon the map. "We will have an easy game. Don't worry. "
Peaceful and quiet was the night, even the faint whispers of the brushing leaves could be heard, as a light breeze hit the trees outside. Nevertheless, this was rather the contrary to what the young boy was perceiving.
The whole place was lighted with huge roaring fires, dancing frantically all around him. There was no way through the firestorm, no way to escape. His dark wide eyes reflected those springs of light he helplessly gazed at, until what haunted him in his recurring nightmares materialized again.
I am strong.
Those were the words that gave him courage and helped him fight his fears, but they were totally insignificant now. Horror overpowered him in an instant, and his body froze there, completely paralyzed. But it wasn't alone this time, as many others emerged from the wild fires around him. They carried malformed swords, axes and maces, blood decorating their sharp edges. A sanguinary look could be read off their faces, despite them being just scorching bones. They looked excited to rip the boy into pieces, splash his blood and bash his bones.
The fear he felt was unimaginable. Not able to run, not able to react, and facing what the young eyes beheld at that moment could only cause an excruciating dread in him. The one that looked to be their chief glanced at its companions, which was more of a signal. As at that moment, the foul fiends marched slowly towards their victim, each of their concurrent steps causing a noisy tremor on the ground. And each tremor amplified the horror in the poor boy.
But things aggrevated further. Desperate screams of people, mostly women and children echoed in the youngster's ears. The frames around him seemed to be laughing, overjoyed whilst his feelings fed them with pleasure. They approached him and surrounded him, finally raising their gory weapons, and at that point, the human child screamed loudly in utter despair. And it was this that caused all the surroundings to evaporate impulsively, and the place where he slept in, returning.
Yet the screams continued, and he wailed desperately. It took a long moment before he realized that everything was gone now. Everything was calm again. Dark again, but peaceful...
...For now.
The whole place was lighted with huge roaring fires, dancing frantically all around him. There was no way through the firestorm, no way to escape. His dark wide eyes reflected those springs of light he helplessly gazed at, until what haunted him in his recurring nightmares materialized again.
I am strong.
Those were the words that gave him courage and helped him fight his fears, but they were totally insignificant now. Horror overpowered him in an instant, and his body froze there, completely paralyzed. But it wasn't alone this time, as many others emerged from the wild fires around him. They carried malformed swords, axes and maces, blood decorating their sharp edges. A sanguinary look could be read off their faces, despite them being just scorching bones. They looked excited to rip the boy into pieces, splash his blood and bash his bones.
The fear he felt was unimaginable. Not able to run, not able to react, and facing what the young eyes beheld at that moment could only cause an excruciating dread in him. The one that looked to be their chief glanced at its companions, which was more of a signal. As at that moment, the foul fiends marched slowly towards their victim, each of their concurrent steps causing a noisy tremor on the ground. And each tremor amplified the horror in the poor boy.
But things aggrevated further. Desperate screams of people, mostly women and children echoed in the youngster's ears. The frames around him seemed to be laughing, overjoyed whilst his feelings fed them with pleasure. They approached him and surrounded him, finally raising their gory weapons, and at that point, the human child screamed loudly in utter despair. And it was this that caused all the surroundings to evaporate impulsively, and the place where he slept in, returning.
Yet the screams continued, and he wailed desperately. It took a long moment before he realized that everything was gone now. Everything was calm again. Dark again, but peaceful...
...For now.
Darkly clad figures hurried over the pile of glinting metal, their beings merely shadows against the twilight. Up close, there faces all shared the same look of frustration mingled with fear. Clanging rang out over the area as finely made weapons and armor were thrown unceremoniously into a large pile, while others were searched and sorted. Worried whispers passed among those bound to their tasks- someone may lose their life for this stroke of bad luck.
The lich stood on higher ground, surveying the cultists as they worked. His displeasure emanated from his very self- there was no need for words or facial expressions. One cultist finally approached him, after much hesitation.
"My...my lord, we are still searching...I have brought many fine items for my lord to do with as he pleases!" In a desperate motion he cast forward the contents of the sack he carried. At the feet of the lich now lay several fine pieces of equipment- Elven silversteel armor that glowed even in darkness as though it had its own source of light, ornate longswords that still pulsated with the magic that flowed in them, and powerful axes that showed the strength of a dwarven army.
The lich surveyed the priceless items, lifting the elven armor delicately. Then in one movement, he shattered the metal to pieces in his hands, flinging them at the terrified cultist.
"Elvish toys!" he hissed. "Do you think this a game designed to waste my time? Do not dare approach me again unless you have what I want!"
He was still seething even as the cultist hurried down and began clambering out orders to search faster, but that ceased as he felt a cool presence approach from behind. The deep, soft voice had a way of bringing a steady feeling to the surroundings.
"They have not found it?"
"No."
He could sense her cold smile, even without turning to look at her.
"It was unlikely to be claimed this way. Anyone who knew even a shred the worth of his burden would be unlikely to let it out of his hands for very long."
The lich stood on higher ground, surveying the cultists as they worked. His displeasure emanated from his very self- there was no need for words or facial expressions. One cultist finally approached him, after much hesitation.
"My...my lord, we are still searching...I have brought many fine items for my lord to do with as he pleases!" In a desperate motion he cast forward the contents of the sack he carried. At the feet of the lich now lay several fine pieces of equipment- Elven silversteel armor that glowed even in darkness as though it had its own source of light, ornate longswords that still pulsated with the magic that flowed in them, and powerful axes that showed the strength of a dwarven army.
The lich surveyed the priceless items, lifting the elven armor delicately. Then in one movement, he shattered the metal to pieces in his hands, flinging them at the terrified cultist.
"Elvish toys!" he hissed. "Do you think this a game designed to waste my time? Do not dare approach me again unless you have what I want!"
He was still seething even as the cultist hurried down and began clambering out orders to search faster, but that ceased as he felt a cool presence approach from behind. The deep, soft voice had a way of bringing a steady feeling to the surroundings.
"They have not found it?"
"No."
He could sense her cold smile, even without turning to look at her.
"It was unlikely to be claimed this way. Anyone who knew even a shred the worth of his burden would be unlikely to let it out of his hands for very long."
((translation from the post above.))
Die dunkelgekleideten Gestalten eilten über den Haufen von glitzerndem Metall, welches sie wie schlichte Schatten wirken ließ. Von der Nähe betrachtet, gaben ihre Gesicht alle den selben Ausdruck wieder: Frustration und Furcht. Das laute Klappern breitete sich über das Gebiet aus als die feingeschmiedeten Waffen und Rüstungen unwürig auf einen großen Haufen geworfen wurde, während andere aussortiert wurden. Besorgtes Geflüster drang durch die Reihen jener, die mit dieser Aufgabe betraut waren - irgendjemand würde sein Leben für dieses Unglück lassen müssen.
Der Lich stand auf einer höheren Ebene und betrachtete die Schwarzkultisten bei ihrer Arbeit. Er strahlte eine Unzufriedenheit aus, die keine Gesichtszüge oder Worte bedarf. Einer der Kultisten näherte sich ihm mit viel Vorsichtig.
"Mein... mein Lord. Wir sind noch am suchen.. Ich habe euch aber ein paar wunderbar geschmiedete Sachen gebracht, mit denen ihr tun könnt, wie ihr wollt." In einer verzweifteln Bewegung brachte er den Sack mit den Gegenständen hervor, welche er mit sich trug. Vor den Füßen des Lichs lagen nun verschiedene Ausrüstungen - Elbensilberstahl, welches in der Dunkelheit leuchtete, als würde es eine eigene Lichtquelle besitzen; verzierte Langschwerter, welche regelrecht pulsierten aufgrund der Magie welche durch ihnen floss; und wundervoll Äxte welche die Stärke einer Zwergenarmee bekundeten.
Der Lich betrachtete die wertvollen Gegenstände und hob letztendlich die Elbensilberstahlrüstng auf. Dann, in nur einer Bewegung, brach er das Metall in seinen Händen auseinander und warf die einzelnen Stücke dem entsetzten Kultisten entgegen.
"Elfisches Spielzeug!", zischte er. "Denkt ihr das hier ist ein Spiel, dass ich kreeirte um mir die Zeit zu vertreiben? Wage es nicht hier vor mir wieder aufzutauchen, solange du nicht das hast, was ich will!"
Er war immer noch am zischen, während der Kultist eilig wieder nach unten lief und die anderen dazu antrieb schneller zu suchen. Jedoch beruhigte er sich langsam, als er eine kühle Präsenz hinter sich wahr nahm. Ihre tiefe, weiche Stimme hatte die Gabe ein sicheres Gefühl zu verbreiten.
"Sie haben es noch nicht gefunden?"
"Nein."
Der Lich spürte ihr kaltes Lächeln, ohne sich dabei umdrehen zu müssen.
"Es war unwahrscheinlich anzunehmen, dass es so funktonieren würde. Jeder der auch nur die kleinste Ahnung von dieser Bürde hat, würde es nicht lange aus seinen Händen lassen."
Die dunkelgekleideten Gestalten eilten über den Haufen von glitzerndem Metall, welches sie wie schlichte Schatten wirken ließ. Von der Nähe betrachtet, gaben ihre Gesicht alle den selben Ausdruck wieder: Frustration und Furcht. Das laute Klappern breitete sich über das Gebiet aus als die feingeschmiedeten Waffen und Rüstungen unwürig auf einen großen Haufen geworfen wurde, während andere aussortiert wurden. Besorgtes Geflüster drang durch die Reihen jener, die mit dieser Aufgabe betraut waren - irgendjemand würde sein Leben für dieses Unglück lassen müssen.
Der Lich stand auf einer höheren Ebene und betrachtete die Schwarzkultisten bei ihrer Arbeit. Er strahlte eine Unzufriedenheit aus, die keine Gesichtszüge oder Worte bedarf. Einer der Kultisten näherte sich ihm mit viel Vorsichtig.
"Mein... mein Lord. Wir sind noch am suchen.. Ich habe euch aber ein paar wunderbar geschmiedete Sachen gebracht, mit denen ihr tun könnt, wie ihr wollt." In einer verzweifteln Bewegung brachte er den Sack mit den Gegenständen hervor, welche er mit sich trug. Vor den Füßen des Lichs lagen nun verschiedene Ausrüstungen - Elbensilberstahl, welches in der Dunkelheit leuchtete, als würde es eine eigene Lichtquelle besitzen; verzierte Langschwerter, welche regelrecht pulsierten aufgrund der Magie welche durch ihnen floss; und wundervoll Äxte welche die Stärke einer Zwergenarmee bekundeten.
Der Lich betrachtete die wertvollen Gegenstände und hob letztendlich die Elbensilberstahlrüstng auf. Dann, in nur einer Bewegung, brach er das Metall in seinen Händen auseinander und warf die einzelnen Stücke dem entsetzten Kultisten entgegen.
"Elfisches Spielzeug!", zischte er. "Denkt ihr das hier ist ein Spiel, dass ich kreeirte um mir die Zeit zu vertreiben? Wage es nicht hier vor mir wieder aufzutauchen, solange du nicht das hast, was ich will!"
Er war immer noch am zischen, während der Kultist eilig wieder nach unten lief und die anderen dazu antrieb schneller zu suchen. Jedoch beruhigte er sich langsam, als er eine kühle Präsenz hinter sich wahr nahm. Ihre tiefe, weiche Stimme hatte die Gabe ein sicheres Gefühl zu verbreiten.
"Sie haben es noch nicht gefunden?"
"Nein."
Der Lich spürte ihr kaltes Lächeln, ohne sich dabei umdrehen zu müssen.
"Es war unwahrscheinlich anzunehmen, dass es so funktonieren würde. Jeder der auch nur die kleinste Ahnung von dieser Bürde hat, würde es nicht lange aus seinen Händen lassen."
The lich turned away fromt he prison cell. A scent of death lingered in the air. But not only that - behind him stood Taeryon. Or what was left of him. His boney, animated. Vartaroth had killed him infront of the eyes of Aleytys and the others. His flesh parted from his bones, like the skin of a snake. And now he had another will-less minion.
That was the punishment for Aleytys not being willed to cooperate with him. The punishment for this foolish folk of Gobaith to not hand him out the sword and the boy.
Vartaroth stepped closer to the mirror with the golden frame and gazed quietly inside.
... where the heck was Ambrosine...
***
Der Lich wandte sich von dem Gefängnis ab. Ein Geruch von Tod lag in der Luft. Aber nicht nur das, hinter ihm stand Taeryon. Oder das was von Taeryon über geblieben war. Seine Knochen, seine animierten. Vartaroth hatte ihn vor Aleytys und den Augen der anderen getötet. Sein Fleisch war von seinem Körper abgefallen wie die Haut einer Schlange. Und nun hatte er einen weiteren, willenlosen Sklaven.
Das war die Strafe dafür. Die Strafe dafür, dass Aleytys sich nicht bereit erklärt hatte, ihm die Informationen zu geben die er wollte. Die Strafe dafür, dass auch heute das närrische Volk von Gobaith ihm den Jungen und das Schwert nicht ausgeliefert hatten.
Vartaroth wandte sich zu dem Spiegel mit dem goldenen Rahmen und warf einen knappen Blick hinein.
... Wo war eigentlich Ambrosine...
That was the punishment for Aleytys not being willed to cooperate with him. The punishment for this foolish folk of Gobaith to not hand him out the sword and the boy.
Vartaroth stepped closer to the mirror with the golden frame and gazed quietly inside.
... where the heck was Ambrosine...
***
Der Lich wandte sich von dem Gefängnis ab. Ein Geruch von Tod lag in der Luft. Aber nicht nur das, hinter ihm stand Taeryon. Oder das was von Taeryon über geblieben war. Seine Knochen, seine animierten. Vartaroth hatte ihn vor Aleytys und den Augen der anderen getötet. Sein Fleisch war von seinem Körper abgefallen wie die Haut einer Schlange. Und nun hatte er einen weiteren, willenlosen Sklaven.
Das war die Strafe dafür. Die Strafe dafür, dass Aleytys sich nicht bereit erklärt hatte, ihm die Informationen zu geben die er wollte. Die Strafe dafür, dass auch heute das närrische Volk von Gobaith ihm den Jungen und das Schwert nicht ausgeliefert hatten.
Vartaroth wandte sich zu dem Spiegel mit dem goldenen Rahmen und warf einen knappen Blick hinein.
... Wo war eigentlich Ambrosine...