The headache had returned yet again, seventh of the day, and just as Davien had feared the intensity once again increased. Thankfully, he wasn't standing when the mental torment beset him, otherwise, he had no doubt he would have collapsed on the library floor. As it were Davien used every ounce of mental constitution to keep himself upright in his chair. In over six thousand years of existence he'd never felt anything as unnatural or violent as these earth splitting headaches- each worse than the last. It was this affliction that brought Davien to the mythical city of Runewick in the first place, hoping to find answers perhaps even a cure.
Generally speaking it was not in Davien's nature to dwell in cities for too long but these extenuating circumstances rendered his personal preference frivolous in lieu of relief. In fact, the chronic pain he was feeling went so far as to force his hand into open forums, such as the marketplace, to beseech aid. On one such day Davien's path crossed an otherwise avoidable figure by the name of Djironnyma. So desperate for help Davien unknowingly divulged details before he even knew the mage's name. Had the situation been less dire Davien, of course, would have probed and angled the discussion toward an ambiguous nature or sought assistance elsewhere entirely. Instead, Davien took an uncharacteristic approach by telling the truth to this Bearer of the Fire.
From his experience and contacts on Gobaith Davien was well aware of Djironnyma's reputation for confrontation and disgust for dark magic. Despite the potential risk Davien spared only a few minor details to the mage hoping that his story would shed light on a cure or a course of action. The truth of the matter was that years ago, perhaps a decade or longer now, Davien was stricken with black magic. Certainly it would have been enough to kill any mortal, but somehow even after six thousand years Cherga released his soul back to the realm of Illarion. In his weakened state he found nothing of his previous self or the love he once had for the female that lead to his demise. He should have been able to forgive her but isolation was the only solitude he could find in this new life. Still there was no avoiding the evidence ever present upon his face. Each glance in a mirror or pool of water would be a constant reminder of that fateful day. The left side of his face now bared the sinuous hex shaded a bizarre shade of purple almost in the form of an ideogram.
As with many elves of Davien's age apathy found him and for several years he rarely broke from meditation. When he finally decided to roam once more the fates would have it that his return to the isle of Gobaith would be cut short. As all who once called Gobaith home very well know the cut short part was actually the complete and resounding destruction of the island once considered The Isle of Hope. Perhaps by chance or relation after the fall of Gobaith Davien's headaches began. Since then he has practiced every form of meditation he has ever learned and even a few experimental ones. Regardless of his efforts the once dull and fleeting aches steadily grew overtime and there was nothing Davien could do to prevent them. By the time he reached Runewick the agony was almost unbearable.
At first he tried to gain an audience with the archmage well aware of his prowess in all matters of magical lore. Sadly, his mental resolve to try and work out a plausible time to meet with Elvaine lost out to the excruciating mental torture. This inevitably led to his conversation with Djironnyma in the library of Runewick. After their conversation ended Davien sat alone pondering five options, two of which were new additions thanks to Djironnyma: continue to do nothing, consult someone else, kill himself, let Djironnyma stop the curse and leave the pain, or let him attempt to lift the curse with a high probability of death. He felt disheartened really at all the options but knew he had to choose quickly for one of the minor details he left out was probably the most alarming; Davien was hearing voices.
Afflictions of an Inconsequential Elf
Moderator: Gamemasters
Unconscious
Much like Davien's headaches the emergence of the small voice in the back of his mind maturated methodically. At its start the inner dialogue could simply be dismissed as mere rogue thoughts. If a trader asked too much for his wares Davien would hear the words punch him ring ominously. Perhaps a beggar pleading his case for coin just a little too intrusively made visions and terms of mild torture materialize. Davien was by no means an altruist, but he had always had lines of decency and composure even for his private thoughts. Day after day he could feel that privacy being replaced by vulgar or sinister commentary. He despised his descent but just like the headaches no amount of meditation or self-control stopped the voices. The tipping point that dramatically changed Davien's outlook and concern came only hours after his conversation with Djironnyma.
He had just crossed the renowned golden bridge into Yewdale from Runewick when an elfess' voice chimed out, “Hello."
Still recovering from a recent surge of pain from his head Davien dropped his leather clad hand from his forehead slightly perplexed. He could tell the voice was distinctly elven but the words hello could hardly be considered common for most of his kind. The mild but sordid voice added in the back of his mind the word idiot.
Before Davien could offer a candid response the elfess evidently noticed his pained expression and added, "Are you alright?"
Again the voice emerged mimicking the elfess this time, in poor taste, and replaying her words with profound sarcasm. In spite of his inner conflict Davien managed an honest response, "No, in fact but seems there is little anyone can do for me."
Feeling it rude to continue onward Davien managed a casual expression as he turned to properly face the stranger. As with most elves she was slender but departed from common elven garb, instead, dressing the part of a peasant or field hand. Flipping in the wind beneath her wide brimmed hat a silver pony tail caught his gaze in the setting sun. Due to her position in relation to the sun a long shadow concealed the finer details of her face. Overhead a large apple tree framed his vision with a row of hedges set to his left. Following elven tradition Davien started toward her for a proper introduction but immediately stopped short when she did not return the minor social suavity. He'd come across elves like this many times in his aged existence and while some elders would have been agitated Davien simply allowed things to unfold as they may. The voice in his head, however, spouted out obscenities condemning her imprudence.
Without a clue to his inner struggle the elfess innocently continued her warmhearted ingress, "Where are my manners - I am Leena." For a moment she smiled before continuing, "I am not very knowledgeable but I could try to help!"
Davien instantly reveled in her lamb-like charm and felt a certain magnetism perhaps in opposition to his own personal neurosis and woebegone. He wanted to chat with her and bask in her infectious aura. Regardless of what reaction a fully armored elf might induce from a noncombative elfess, such as Leena, Davien closed the distance between them in just a few strides. To Davien's fortune the elfess did not retreat or take a defensive stance. Leena simply smiled at Davien and if he wasn't mistaken she too held curiosity in her eyes. Before long they were conversing openly on a pair of fallen logs angled around a kettle commonly used by cooks and travelers in Yewdale. At length their back and forth went on with Davien speaking the most as elders often do. For hours he felt no pain and the pretentious voice even stayed at bay.
As far as Davien was concerned he could have talked with Leena for a century or longer. They spoke of history, lore, magic, and even mundane things, but mostly Leena wanted Davien to talk about his past. She was incredibly attentive and responsive to his stories and by the time they were deep into the night hearing the crickets chirp a long lasting friendship felt imminent. That is when it happened for the first time, Davien lost control of his body as well as his thoughts. The voice was clear as a bell in his head, "Take her."
Devoid of sexuality the emotions and urges in his body were far more diabolical and what’s more unforgiveable. Whatever curse befell him had now progressed beyond anything Davien could have imagined. His hand briefly darted to the hilt of his sword at a moment when Leena was not looking. Overcome with panic Davien willed himself to stop and by some roll of Nargun's dice he snapped back to himself with a fierce stabbing pain in his head. For a moment he careened to the side thinking he might fall over but somehow resisted the urge and jumped to his feet. Fearful that he might lose control again Davien quickly uttered a hastened conclusion to their conversation remitting himself in need of meditation.
Leena expressed overt concern in her farewells and Davien could tell she was confused as well. Still, Davien felt that she didn't think him completely mental and immediately started to sprint toward the only refuge he felt would be of any benefit, the Temple of the Five. The journey was long and hard but by shear will Davien arrived at the large mountainside where the temple had been carved out. Taking a moment to catch his breath Davien approached the temple mumbling praises when all of a sudden a burst of energy exploded into his chest as he lowered his head to enter between one of the archways. Like a child's ragdoll Davien toppled across the ground in a freakishly violent manner. When his momentum finally brought him to a halt the elf laid spread eagle over the ground convincingly unconscious.
((At this point completely open RP.))
He had just crossed the renowned golden bridge into Yewdale from Runewick when an elfess' voice chimed out, “Hello."
Still recovering from a recent surge of pain from his head Davien dropped his leather clad hand from his forehead slightly perplexed. He could tell the voice was distinctly elven but the words hello could hardly be considered common for most of his kind. The mild but sordid voice added in the back of his mind the word idiot.
Before Davien could offer a candid response the elfess evidently noticed his pained expression and added, "Are you alright?"
Again the voice emerged mimicking the elfess this time, in poor taste, and replaying her words with profound sarcasm. In spite of his inner conflict Davien managed an honest response, "No, in fact but seems there is little anyone can do for me."
Feeling it rude to continue onward Davien managed a casual expression as he turned to properly face the stranger. As with most elves she was slender but departed from common elven garb, instead, dressing the part of a peasant or field hand. Flipping in the wind beneath her wide brimmed hat a silver pony tail caught his gaze in the setting sun. Due to her position in relation to the sun a long shadow concealed the finer details of her face. Overhead a large apple tree framed his vision with a row of hedges set to his left. Following elven tradition Davien started toward her for a proper introduction but immediately stopped short when she did not return the minor social suavity. He'd come across elves like this many times in his aged existence and while some elders would have been agitated Davien simply allowed things to unfold as they may. The voice in his head, however, spouted out obscenities condemning her imprudence.
Without a clue to his inner struggle the elfess innocently continued her warmhearted ingress, "Where are my manners - I am Leena." For a moment she smiled before continuing, "I am not very knowledgeable but I could try to help!"
Davien instantly reveled in her lamb-like charm and felt a certain magnetism perhaps in opposition to his own personal neurosis and woebegone. He wanted to chat with her and bask in her infectious aura. Regardless of what reaction a fully armored elf might induce from a noncombative elfess, such as Leena, Davien closed the distance between them in just a few strides. To Davien's fortune the elfess did not retreat or take a defensive stance. Leena simply smiled at Davien and if he wasn't mistaken she too held curiosity in her eyes. Before long they were conversing openly on a pair of fallen logs angled around a kettle commonly used by cooks and travelers in Yewdale. At length their back and forth went on with Davien speaking the most as elders often do. For hours he felt no pain and the pretentious voice even stayed at bay.
As far as Davien was concerned he could have talked with Leena for a century or longer. They spoke of history, lore, magic, and even mundane things, but mostly Leena wanted Davien to talk about his past. She was incredibly attentive and responsive to his stories and by the time they were deep into the night hearing the crickets chirp a long lasting friendship felt imminent. That is when it happened for the first time, Davien lost control of his body as well as his thoughts. The voice was clear as a bell in his head, "Take her."
Devoid of sexuality the emotions and urges in his body were far more diabolical and what’s more unforgiveable. Whatever curse befell him had now progressed beyond anything Davien could have imagined. His hand briefly darted to the hilt of his sword at a moment when Leena was not looking. Overcome with panic Davien willed himself to stop and by some roll of Nargun's dice he snapped back to himself with a fierce stabbing pain in his head. For a moment he careened to the side thinking he might fall over but somehow resisted the urge and jumped to his feet. Fearful that he might lose control again Davien quickly uttered a hastened conclusion to their conversation remitting himself in need of meditation.
Leena expressed overt concern in her farewells and Davien could tell she was confused as well. Still, Davien felt that she didn't think him completely mental and immediately started to sprint toward the only refuge he felt would be of any benefit, the Temple of the Five. The journey was long and hard but by shear will Davien arrived at the large mountainside where the temple had been carved out. Taking a moment to catch his breath Davien approached the temple mumbling praises when all of a sudden a burst of energy exploded into his chest as he lowered his head to enter between one of the archways. Like a child's ragdoll Davien toppled across the ground in a freakishly violent manner. When his momentum finally brought him to a halt the elf laid spread eagle over the ground convincingly unconscious.
((At this point completely open RP.))
First Victim
When Davien awoke of his own accord he found himself beneath the cover of a budding apple tree during midday. Though he was noticeably sore the pain in his head was not present. For the moment he only felt groggy but he forced himself up into a sitting position. Minutes perhaps hours passed as he sat in thought trying to remember what happened. Bit by bit his memories returned and by the time he reached the moment where he was knocked back an instant panic erupted in his chest. Had the gods forsaken him? The question wouldn't go away nor the fear slowly overcoming him. He tried to formulate some kind of plan but nothing came.
Deeply distraught Davien decided that a walk may help the restless feeling that overcame him. Before long Davien’s excursion brought him to the Hemptie Inn where an advertisement caught his eye for The Violet Lens Apothecary. He hadn't tried an alchemist yet and by word of mouth the dwarf, Ufedhin, was gaining quite a reputation for dangerous endeavors. Desperate for a second opinion Davien quickly paid the hand of the teleporter and was off. Upon his arrival in Galmair a familiar acquaintance was nearby chopping wood.
While they could hardly be considered friends Davien greeted his fellow elven brother casually until a burst of pain splintered through his brain. It was at this moment that Davien no longer existed in the mortal realm and was overtaken by another entity entirely. This internal transformation was not in the least bit pleasant for Davien. He felt as if his body had been completely split in half from head to toe right down the middle. He would gladly welcome death to be freed of this insurmountable anguish now encompassing him into utter darkness.
Surely Davien descended into the bowels of hell of which there was indeed much weeping and the gnashing of teeth. Whether or not the ancient one deserved such torment for his sins may never be known. In his mortal body, on the other hand, a new soul had come to reign- one of vile character. This new person made his intentions immediately known to the elf called Jerem. Star-crossed as it may be Jerem would be the first victim of this new Davien's black hearted plot. Jerem tried to reason with the person he thought to be Davien, but his words were meaningless to this new occupant who simply drew his sword.
In spite of the noticeable danger Jerem defiantly stood his ground still trying to talk sense into his fellow elven kin. The words, sadly, fell on deaf ears and ended with Davien's new master slashing Jerem's leg. The laceration was hardly fatal but left enough blood on the magical blade for the purpose intended. Bravely Jerem stood his ground ready for a second attack, not even wearing armor, and only a sword held loosely at his side. The assaulter retrieved a common ruby from Davien's bag and wiped it across the magical sword to transfer the blood. Afterward he looked at Jerem, interrupting his words of caution about blood magic, and simply said, "Darkwalker... remember the name."
And with that Darkwalker fled from Jerem to start a ritual with his new stone and blood to seal. For some days his name was not heard again but when it reemerged attacks like Jerem's spread from town to town and victim to victim, each containing the same motive and purpose. For a while he was careful about his victims and setup ambushes meticulously after thoroughly scouting each surrounding area. By the end of his subsequent raids the name Darkwalker, unbeknown to him, had already started to percolate around Illarion with agents preparing themselves to stop his bloody assaults.
((Still open RP, but I will have a follow up post soon.))
Deeply distraught Davien decided that a walk may help the restless feeling that overcame him. Before long Davien’s excursion brought him to the Hemptie Inn where an advertisement caught his eye for The Violet Lens Apothecary. He hadn't tried an alchemist yet and by word of mouth the dwarf, Ufedhin, was gaining quite a reputation for dangerous endeavors. Desperate for a second opinion Davien quickly paid the hand of the teleporter and was off. Upon his arrival in Galmair a familiar acquaintance was nearby chopping wood.
While they could hardly be considered friends Davien greeted his fellow elven brother casually until a burst of pain splintered through his brain. It was at this moment that Davien no longer existed in the mortal realm and was overtaken by another entity entirely. This internal transformation was not in the least bit pleasant for Davien. He felt as if his body had been completely split in half from head to toe right down the middle. He would gladly welcome death to be freed of this insurmountable anguish now encompassing him into utter darkness.
Surely Davien descended into the bowels of hell of which there was indeed much weeping and the gnashing of teeth. Whether or not the ancient one deserved such torment for his sins may never be known. In his mortal body, on the other hand, a new soul had come to reign- one of vile character. This new person made his intentions immediately known to the elf called Jerem. Star-crossed as it may be Jerem would be the first victim of this new Davien's black hearted plot. Jerem tried to reason with the person he thought to be Davien, but his words were meaningless to this new occupant who simply drew his sword.
In spite of the noticeable danger Jerem defiantly stood his ground still trying to talk sense into his fellow elven kin. The words, sadly, fell on deaf ears and ended with Davien's new master slashing Jerem's leg. The laceration was hardly fatal but left enough blood on the magical blade for the purpose intended. Bravely Jerem stood his ground ready for a second attack, not even wearing armor, and only a sword held loosely at his side. The assaulter retrieved a common ruby from Davien's bag and wiped it across the magical sword to transfer the blood. Afterward he looked at Jerem, interrupting his words of caution about blood magic, and simply said, "Darkwalker... remember the name."
And with that Darkwalker fled from Jerem to start a ritual with his new stone and blood to seal. For some days his name was not heard again but when it reemerged attacks like Jerem's spread from town to town and victim to victim, each containing the same motive and purpose. For a while he was careful about his victims and setup ambushes meticulously after thoroughly scouting each surrounding area. By the end of his subsequent raids the name Darkwalker, unbeknown to him, had already started to percolate around Illarion with agents preparing themselves to stop his bloody assaults.
((Still open RP, but I will have a follow up post soon.))
Vicissitudes
Across the wide bay Darkwalker watched the torches in the distance flicker around the small landing where travelers and citizens alike would often gather after crossing the awe-inspiring golden bridge of Runewick. The night was clear and with the tide out the water before him was as still as an untouched bath. More than a mere name Darkwalker's au fait proficiency for stealth allowed him uninterrupted viewing time over his potential prey. Through the shadows he lurked relying on the ambient sounds of night to cloak his advance or bypath in case someone got too close. His sharp eyes inspected each individually and collectively for hours as the night lingered on. Leena, his second victim, was surrounded by a small group of unarmored individuals and though they spoke in soft voices Darkwalker had the sneaking suspicion he was their topic of conversation.
Certainly looks could be deceiving but from Darkwalker's observations they all looked pedestrian at best if it came to defending themselves. Three unarmed females, a mute orc which he did manage to communicate with earlier in the night, and an overworked guard who somehow manages to sleep upright would soon know Darkwalker's wrath. His approach was direct and well-timed as he passed the snoring guard and settled amongst the small gathering huddled around the magical depot. Shrewd and authoritatively Darkwalker demanded his ransom, blood, in return for sparing their lives. Leena immediately backed away knowing the dire situation at hand but the other three just stood there either shocked or daftly defiant. Either way Darkwalker had no qualms taking their lives should they stand their ground.
Ill prepared as the group was to deal with Darkwalker they did their best to stall and defuse the situation, but Darkwalker was too savvy for such folly. He knew a populated city such as Runewick had a high probability to bring someone capable of defense. With that thought ever present he immediately cut them all off from their fruitless attempts to dissuade him and drew his sword. Foolishly the female human amongst them pulled a bow out but before she could even take aim Darkwalker lashed out at her assuming the others would follow her lead. She fell to his sword with resounding defeat but before he could relish and utilize her blood the defenseless pack of commoners received a wayward blessing, reinforcements. A pair of males, one human the other a lizardman, were armed to the teeth and the lone assaulter, Darkwalker, knew he was now outmatched.
With a curse under his breath Darkwalker did find a sliver of hope when the two warriors didn't draw their weapons immediately. Perhaps it was the chaos of the moment that caused them to hesitate but Darkwalker keenly leapt at a chance for escape and dashed off. The two armored warriors tried their best to react but Darkwalker was way too fast for either. Darkwalker's splintmail gave him superior mobility opposed to his counterparts who were slowly fading into the distance. The leader of the two, not by affiliation but by pursuit position, pressed on even though Darkwalker was easily out legging him. Fully aware that he could just sprint somewhere into the night and live to fight another day Darkwalker was actually no coward, and instead of fleeing, he purposefully stopped and waited.
The lizardman proved to be a fair tracker and emerged alone on the weather beaten cobblestone path. Just to ensure they would not be interrupted Darkwalker dashed ahead to a nearby bridge to allow them a one on one duel. Unfortunately, Darkwalker vastly underestimated his opponent who reached him quickly with a lunging chop of his magical axe. Darkwalker narrowly avoided the blow and retreated to regain his composure and focus. On to the next bridge he went and this time locked in on the charging lizardman with crimson cloak ablazing. They exchanged blows but the lizardman's axe was infallible. The lizardman quickly dominated the fight with superior equipment and knocked Darkwalker to the ground with a heavy blow across his chest plate.
Dazed to the point of a near blackout Darkwalker was just barely able to make out the lizardman unfurling a rope. The scaled warrior advanced on Darkwalker who immediately used every ounce of his strength to crawl away from a potential capture. Unfortunately for Darkwalker the two weren't alone and a pack of nearby wolves had picked up on the scent of blood and savagely ambushed Darkwalker as he laid helplessly on the ground. How it came to pass that Darkwalker was not sent back from wince he came shall remain a mystery for now and a story for another time. As for this night what should be known is that he did return to the world of Illarion injured but not mortally wounded.
Cursing to himself once more Darkwalker found himself back in Runewick and knew immediately that he had to try and escape no matter what his wounds might be. The first thing he did was discard every bit of unnecessary fodder he was lugging around and the second was to crawl away into shadows before he could be arrested. Somehow he accomplished making it to the cover of the forest just as the lizardman called out loud about Darkwalker's abandoned property. Knowing the lizardman's resolve Darkwalker was fully convinced that he would be pursued and wasted no time trying to get to the nearby shore. Once again Darkwalker was successful in alluding the lizardman and the water provided him temporary concealment from tracking as he waded out to his waist. Cautiously he moved around the northern edge of the shore ignoring the searing pain of saltwater in his open wounds.
After much travail Darkwalker managed to reach a naturally formed seawall of craggy stone where he chose to temporarily tend to his wounds. Using a dagger from his boot Darkwalker carefully and as quietly as possible cut strips of cloth from his cloak to stem the bleeding. With the ongoing run of bad luck Darkwalker was actually quite fortunate that he didn't sustain any major injuries to the lower half of his body. Just two superficial slashes to his fur covered legs were easily wrapped and tied off. The slash across his chest plate, on the other hand, was far more severe but if need be Darkwalker knew he could still run. No doubt such a feat would be unthinkable for most, but Darkwalker was no stranger to pain or overcoming it.
As it would be Darkwalker's resolve was soon put to the test as both warriors eventually surrounded him. The lizardman was at his back while the human stood before him. They were both fed up with the game of cat and mouse, and the lizardman wisely tried to force Darkwalker into a hasty decision by counting down from the number ten. At zero of course the lizardman would strike at Darkwalker again. The men underestimated the power of blood magic, however, because Darkwalker's recent collections had already been spent to aid in his recovery. Though he was nowhere close to being fully healed Darkwalker once again fleeted. This time there would be no turning back and he ran as hard and fast as he could despite the unyielding pain trying to rip him apart.
Once again the race and chase was on. Through forests, over bridges, down winding paths, and fast traveling magic Darkwalker tried to shake his huntsmen. As before the lizardman seemed the most determined and resolute in giving chase and it wasn't until Darkwalker entered the broad forest way north of Runewick that he escaped pursuit- or so he thought. What Darkwalker didn't know was that his chest wound had seeped free around the back of his armor leaving an unbeknown trail. Instinctively Darkwalker did make a wide loop through the forest to overlay his tracks, but an experienced tracker could still find the evidence given enough time and patience. With his stamina waning Darkwalker knew he had to find shelter fast to rest and recover.
A refuge soon came in to view in the form of ruined, and more importantly unguarded, sentry tower. Dodging through a wave of wild beasts Darkwalker eventually made it to the rusted iron door of the tower. A little more recklessly, given the current circumstances, Darkwalker immediately fell in when he found that the door was unlocked. Moonlight revealed the room to be empty and Darkwalker immediately closed the gate and barred it with a sigh of relief. Inside the room there was nothing inviting whatsoever except a nearly decayed latter- which of course he climbed. The station above was much like the one below, but there was an alternate exit. The door was open allowing Darkwalker to see a bridge crossing a wide and roaring river. On the other side a castle loomed in the darkness without a single torch lit. To the locals it was called The Undead Castle but for Darkwalker its sentry tower would be home.
Certainly looks could be deceiving but from Darkwalker's observations they all looked pedestrian at best if it came to defending themselves. Three unarmed females, a mute orc which he did manage to communicate with earlier in the night, and an overworked guard who somehow manages to sleep upright would soon know Darkwalker's wrath. His approach was direct and well-timed as he passed the snoring guard and settled amongst the small gathering huddled around the magical depot. Shrewd and authoritatively Darkwalker demanded his ransom, blood, in return for sparing their lives. Leena immediately backed away knowing the dire situation at hand but the other three just stood there either shocked or daftly defiant. Either way Darkwalker had no qualms taking their lives should they stand their ground.
Ill prepared as the group was to deal with Darkwalker they did their best to stall and defuse the situation, but Darkwalker was too savvy for such folly. He knew a populated city such as Runewick had a high probability to bring someone capable of defense. With that thought ever present he immediately cut them all off from their fruitless attempts to dissuade him and drew his sword. Foolishly the female human amongst them pulled a bow out but before she could even take aim Darkwalker lashed out at her assuming the others would follow her lead. She fell to his sword with resounding defeat but before he could relish and utilize her blood the defenseless pack of commoners received a wayward blessing, reinforcements. A pair of males, one human the other a lizardman, were armed to the teeth and the lone assaulter, Darkwalker, knew he was now outmatched.
With a curse under his breath Darkwalker did find a sliver of hope when the two warriors didn't draw their weapons immediately. Perhaps it was the chaos of the moment that caused them to hesitate but Darkwalker keenly leapt at a chance for escape and dashed off. The two armored warriors tried their best to react but Darkwalker was way too fast for either. Darkwalker's splintmail gave him superior mobility opposed to his counterparts who were slowly fading into the distance. The leader of the two, not by affiliation but by pursuit position, pressed on even though Darkwalker was easily out legging him. Fully aware that he could just sprint somewhere into the night and live to fight another day Darkwalker was actually no coward, and instead of fleeing, he purposefully stopped and waited.
The lizardman proved to be a fair tracker and emerged alone on the weather beaten cobblestone path. Just to ensure they would not be interrupted Darkwalker dashed ahead to a nearby bridge to allow them a one on one duel. Unfortunately, Darkwalker vastly underestimated his opponent who reached him quickly with a lunging chop of his magical axe. Darkwalker narrowly avoided the blow and retreated to regain his composure and focus. On to the next bridge he went and this time locked in on the charging lizardman with crimson cloak ablazing. They exchanged blows but the lizardman's axe was infallible. The lizardman quickly dominated the fight with superior equipment and knocked Darkwalker to the ground with a heavy blow across his chest plate.
Dazed to the point of a near blackout Darkwalker was just barely able to make out the lizardman unfurling a rope. The scaled warrior advanced on Darkwalker who immediately used every ounce of his strength to crawl away from a potential capture. Unfortunately for Darkwalker the two weren't alone and a pack of nearby wolves had picked up on the scent of blood and savagely ambushed Darkwalker as he laid helplessly on the ground. How it came to pass that Darkwalker was not sent back from wince he came shall remain a mystery for now and a story for another time. As for this night what should be known is that he did return to the world of Illarion injured but not mortally wounded.
Cursing to himself once more Darkwalker found himself back in Runewick and knew immediately that he had to try and escape no matter what his wounds might be. The first thing he did was discard every bit of unnecessary fodder he was lugging around and the second was to crawl away into shadows before he could be arrested. Somehow he accomplished making it to the cover of the forest just as the lizardman called out loud about Darkwalker's abandoned property. Knowing the lizardman's resolve Darkwalker was fully convinced that he would be pursued and wasted no time trying to get to the nearby shore. Once again Darkwalker was successful in alluding the lizardman and the water provided him temporary concealment from tracking as he waded out to his waist. Cautiously he moved around the northern edge of the shore ignoring the searing pain of saltwater in his open wounds.
After much travail Darkwalker managed to reach a naturally formed seawall of craggy stone where he chose to temporarily tend to his wounds. Using a dagger from his boot Darkwalker carefully and as quietly as possible cut strips of cloth from his cloak to stem the bleeding. With the ongoing run of bad luck Darkwalker was actually quite fortunate that he didn't sustain any major injuries to the lower half of his body. Just two superficial slashes to his fur covered legs were easily wrapped and tied off. The slash across his chest plate, on the other hand, was far more severe but if need be Darkwalker knew he could still run. No doubt such a feat would be unthinkable for most, but Darkwalker was no stranger to pain or overcoming it.
As it would be Darkwalker's resolve was soon put to the test as both warriors eventually surrounded him. The lizardman was at his back while the human stood before him. They were both fed up with the game of cat and mouse, and the lizardman wisely tried to force Darkwalker into a hasty decision by counting down from the number ten. At zero of course the lizardman would strike at Darkwalker again. The men underestimated the power of blood magic, however, because Darkwalker's recent collections had already been spent to aid in his recovery. Though he was nowhere close to being fully healed Darkwalker once again fleeted. This time there would be no turning back and he ran as hard and fast as he could despite the unyielding pain trying to rip him apart.
//Below is for Salathe, or anyone that wants to follow the trail//
Once again the race and chase was on. Through forests, over bridges, down winding paths, and fast traveling magic Darkwalker tried to shake his huntsmen. As before the lizardman seemed the most determined and resolute in giving chase and it wasn't until Darkwalker entered the broad forest way north of Runewick that he escaped pursuit- or so he thought. What Darkwalker didn't know was that his chest wound had seeped free around the back of his armor leaving an unbeknown trail. Instinctively Darkwalker did make a wide loop through the forest to overlay his tracks, but an experienced tracker could still find the evidence given enough time and patience. With his stamina waning Darkwalker knew he had to find shelter fast to rest and recover.
A refuge soon came in to view in the form of ruined, and more importantly unguarded, sentry tower. Dodging through a wave of wild beasts Darkwalker eventually made it to the rusted iron door of the tower. A little more recklessly, given the current circumstances, Darkwalker immediately fell in when he found that the door was unlocked. Moonlight revealed the room to be empty and Darkwalker immediately closed the gate and barred it with a sigh of relief. Inside the room there was nothing inviting whatsoever except a nearly decayed latter- which of course he climbed. The station above was much like the one below, but there was an alternate exit. The door was open allowing Darkwalker to see a bridge crossing a wide and roaring river. On the other side a castle loomed in the darkness without a single torch lit. To the locals it was called The Undead Castle but for Darkwalker its sentry tower would be home.
A Meeting
By the time night gave way to morning Darkwalker's occult rituals allowed his body to heal almost to full strength. While the trail of blood he left behind turned out to be of no consequence Darkwalker did receive a visitor, by way of a dove- curious creatures these birds were with their innate ability to find people and deliver messages. Darkwalker took the note from bird and held it in his grasp to the discomfort of the innocent creature. With his free hand he opened and read the small letter that requested him to meet with a person named Kyre. Instinctively Darkwalker's first inclination was to discard the letter and the notion of meeting but the words that started the letter had him curious, "I send this blood to you from the mistress Kyre..."
Over the next several days Darkwalker kept a low profile using the abandoned tower as his personal base of operations while he continued various rituals. All the while he pondered Raina's request to meet this person named Kyre. Darkwalker did a few painstaking experiments on the blood stain and by the third day he was able to verify the authenticity was indeed of a sentient origin. Sadly the age of the blood rendered it useless to Darkwalker for all intents and purposes, but he still couldn't avoid the tempting invitation for at heart he was fanatically obsessed with ascertaining knowledge. As the old idiom goes, knowledge is power. Nonetheless, there was a decision to be made which could lead to personal endangerment. People would no doubt be on the lookout for him now, but that just meant that more planning and precise execution would be required. So with that Darkwalker sent his reply from the caged up bird that he had individually plucked free of feathers. In the note he agreed to meet with the one called Kyre but only under certain circumstances. Now it was time to wait for a return reply.
Over the next several days Darkwalker kept a low profile using the abandoned tower as his personal base of operations while he continued various rituals. All the while he pondered Raina's request to meet this person named Kyre. Darkwalker did a few painstaking experiments on the blood stain and by the third day he was able to verify the authenticity was indeed of a sentient origin. Sadly the age of the blood rendered it useless to Darkwalker for all intents and purposes, but he still couldn't avoid the tempting invitation for at heart he was fanatically obsessed with ascertaining knowledge. As the old idiom goes, knowledge is power. Nonetheless, there was a decision to be made which could lead to personal endangerment. People would no doubt be on the lookout for him now, but that just meant that more planning and precise execution would be required. So with that Darkwalker sent his reply from the caged up bird that he had individually plucked free of feathers. In the note he agreed to meet with the one called Kyre but only under certain circumstances. Now it was time to wait for a return reply.
Re: Afflictions of an Inconsequential Elf
Since the time Nargun helped her from the dark cave, Kyre had worshipped the god above all others. Yes, he had laughingly removed some of her magic, but she still had a few tricks up her sleeve along with blood magic and her witchcraft so he hadn't totally deserted her. Yet the uncertaintly was just enough that she hesitated to do what Raina requested even with payment required...being far from altruistic. Could she accomplish anything without a drop of the elf's blood? Would this elf that is obviously bespelled or possessed allow her that drop? If so, it might be worth her effort for other, more personal reasons. Power and to accomplish her goal was ever present in the back of her mind however, all the conditions imposed on the meeting didn't bode well for that plan. Apparently the elf was curious.. having fallen for the dwarf blood sent though he was not perceptive enough to realize it wasn't hers. Perhaps other spells could be used to her advantage though, she would need to talk to Raina before making her final decision.
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Raina Narethil
- Posts: 228
- Joined: Sun Feb 28, 2010 2:52 am
Re: Afflictions of an Inconsequential Elf
After the heated battle of her defending her actions to involve the Blood Witch Kyre, Raina returned to Galmair under the escort of Oxiana. After speaking for a few moments as she lowered some suppiles into the depot, They both said their farewells as they went to go off to sleep. Doing as she told Oxiana she slipped off her boots leaving them beneath the tree as she climbed up to let him know where she was resting. The rest she needed did not come though, instead the words the Archmage spoke kept coming back to her drawing her in to nightmare after nightmare as she tossed and turned nestled safely between trees branches.
As the morning light broke through the tree's canopy, Raina's still tired eyes opened to the greet the day.. Blinking to find focus as she rub her hands over her face to try to rub the sleepyness from her. Drawing back her knees to her chest she stop to think of the events that have happened and about the Elfess Leena, her strength and bravery. and what she must be going through. Raina's mind still unsettled from the words the night before and the nightmares she had in the little sleep that she got tore at her as she slowly climbed down the tree.
* I know in my heart it was the only way to solve it...To stop Davien or to at least cure him, but I will do as the Archmage asked I will watch over the Blood Witch Mistress Kyre. I will not fail my sister.* She swore to herself as she drew on her boots, the stress of the events showing on her tired face. With a slow motion she gets to her feet as she begins her task of watching and learning all that will come in the coming days before her.
As the morning light broke through the tree's canopy, Raina's still tired eyes opened to the greet the day.. Blinking to find focus as she rub her hands over her face to try to rub the sleepyness from her. Drawing back her knees to her chest she stop to think of the events that have happened and about the Elfess Leena, her strength and bravery. and what she must be going through. Raina's mind still unsettled from the words the night before and the nightmares she had in the little sleep that she got tore at her as she slowly climbed down the tree.
* I know in my heart it was the only way to solve it...To stop Davien or to at least cure him, but I will do as the Archmage asked I will watch over the Blood Witch Mistress Kyre. I will not fail my sister.* She swore to herself as she drew on her boots, the stress of the events showing on her tired face. With a slow motion she gets to her feet as she begins her task of watching and learning all that will come in the coming days before her.