Solitude

[Jacob]

The waves broke with amazing ferocity on the jagged black rocky shores of the western coast of Gobiath. The ruins of the lighthouse were constantly misted by the salty waters which fought endlessly in attempts to overrun the rocks, but always they failed receeding only to strike back again.
"How much of this sea is blood of fallen warriors and sailors?" the man in black clothing thought to himself. His youthful face seemed older with such a blank expression he wore now.
He sat on the highest rock on the coast, his ripped black trousers doing little good at keeping the mist and cold winds away from his flesh. He closed his eyes and blew softly into his flute, playing a fair melody, a song he possibly made up himself.
"Out here he thought, there is no one else, none who can pester me, nor object to what I do, none to critize."
His ash-blonde hair whipped around as the wind would catch it but he would not change his melody or sitting position, his music fighting against the wind, against nature.
The young man had always thought he was ment for something more, when he had excaped life as a serf he had done so through battle. He had used the battle staff with instinct and not trained skill, the same with the sword, through instinct. He was naturally talented when it came to battle, he had long since lost his fear of battle.
He had long since stopped caring for others. He rationalized the situation appropriately, he had seen many lives taken and always there was another to be taken. There was no end to the amount of people that could die, so why should he care for anyone in particular? It was only natural in his opinion to care for himself and only himself. The women he slept with ment really nothing to him, he only liked them for the power he felt when he had. He could see them when they were most vulnerable, he could have them whenever he wanted.
These thoughts raced through the young man's head as he played his flute alone against the roar of the sea.

[Jacob]

The strong winds made music through the leaves, making the branches sway to the rythm. Jacob found himself alone again, this time in the northern woods in a small clearing where he could sit on a tree stump and not be surrounded immediately by fir trees.
"Rasmantil..." Jacob thought to himself as he began to play his flute.
He played the flute in a high tone, reminding of happy times which was ironic music for the forest surrounding him being so dark and desolate as it was. The executioner had taken what innocence there was to begin with in the Northern Forest away.
He had removed his platemail and replaced it with simply leather armour beneath his black tunic. He had few weapons with him, a pair of daggers hidden within his worn in muddied hunting boots, a sharp fine sword within his bag and a harmless looking walking staff by his side. Certainly he looked like easy prey for Rasmantil who preyed upon the innocent.
Why he sat waiting for Rasmantil was a complicated answer. It involved his drive to test himself against everything and Rasmantil seemed like a good enough man to test himself against. He had to look better in the eyes of Pendar Fayed and Caitlin Fergus of course. He would look like a hero with some added credibility. Certainly with Rasmantil's head he would be made a town guard, he had already done enough for the damn town, probably more then most of it's full guards. How funny that he of all people would be proving himself a better guard then the people who actually cared.
"So come on Rasmantil, I don't want to wait forever for you..."

[The Executioner]

As the hours pass, you notice that birds begin to sing once more, the forest seems reborn...

[Jacob]

A melody of a bloody and defeated battle song floats in the wind around the Grey Rose Castle. It fills the halls, the chambers and the kitchen. Those sleeping within their warm beds resting and healing from the battle lost earlier listen to it in their dreams.
Jacob is found sitting on the roof of the Grey Rose Castle, blowing firmly into his finely crafted flute, he watches as the city of Trolls Bane burns to the ground. His blood boils like no other time he had ever experienced. Rage filled him to the very last fiber in his body.
He had fought hard today and yet he had lost to superior forces, to superior commanding. He had felled many of the enemy but it ment nothing, the city was sacked and now it burned. Yet he had a plan to save it, or save himself from more defeat.
He had told Alexander von Hattingen of the plan to hand him over to the Lichs, servants to Rasmantil; all for the chance that maybe they would be led to the great evil himself. However he had intentionally left out the part where he would try and make a deal with the Lichs before Alexander and Jacob attacked Rasmantil and his servants.
Jacob was a fine warrior, however he knew that in his current state he could never overcome a single Lich, much less all eight that served Rasmantil; and then go for the head of the snake. That was a task no normal man could do.
No, Jacob would need to get power to do this, and the only power he could see was what Rasmantil was offering ... For Alexander ... For Rhiannon.

[Ariges Feringwood]

A black fog ascends over the city and now the new two Lichs stands on the
libory of the town. They looks down of the castle from the grey rose.

Now the undead reign is comming , your turn is over...

[Jacob]

Jacob stirred awake by the bookcases of the Trolls Bane Library. Few people would have found time to fall asleep with so many ready to kill him nearby, but it was nothing Jacob could have done differently; They thought him dead, he had played it, and while waiting for them to leave he got some much needed sleep. Now cold sticky blood was crusted to his face. Blood of what Jacob thought dully? Possibly himself, Pendar's dagger had knicked him a bit.
"Foolish Captain.. You trust me to much, with your life and your beloved.." Jacob said to himself. The Captain had faked Jacob's death in efforts to show Jacob was infact no longer spying for him, but the Captain thought Jacob was. Jacob was not so certain he enjoyed this work. He was thanked for it little, and it seemed the few other followers of Ariges would have died to protect him. Gishmel clearly did and Murack was planning on doing something to save Jacob before Jacob told Murack to run away.
"Maybe the people on the side of Lich's are not so evil" Jacob thought to himself as he found a spot to sit on the roof the library, over looking the decaying town. He pulled out his flute and began to play a song, it always helped him think, calm and make up his mind when he played his flute. Everything simplified when he played his music, as he fell into a trance of it.
Jacob had aquired much power and trust on the side of the Lich's and their mortal followers ... Could Jacob turn on them ? The townsfolk all hated him now, would it be worth it to cut down the lichs and their followers only to get a pat on the back and luk-warm thanks ?

He played his flute long into the night, letting his music flow through the city, thinking.

[Caitlin Fergus]

Caitlin watched the black carrion crow flying south, carrying her message.
"Be well, Ysgar", she said to ravenlike creature.

With a sigh Caitlin leaned herself against the cold wall of the Grey Rose castle. Too much was happening. She felt tired and exhausted, like all the other warriors, healers and everyone involved in this 'war'.
No one was unharmed. Body or soul.

The druids gaze wandered down the ground and whispered. "Ushara, mother. Yesterday you granted my prayers as through this floor broke those undeads. But this war isn't over. The pain and suffering continues.
Tell me, what shall I do. I beg you.
You know I would give my life..."

She looked up to the darkened sky. Her thoughts wandered from the attacks, to Dravish, Ariges, Jacob... to Rhiannon and Rasmantil.
And she wondered how strong she was. In the moment when she was alone, she felt so helpless...
But in the moments when she had to be strong for others, her light shined brightly and there was no hesitation.

"My life is yours, mother... ", she whispered once more.

[Jacob]

Caitlin slain like any other ... But was she more ?
The druid had left such a deep impression on Jacob, she was beautiful but she was more then that to him. She was ... an individual and not just someone he wanted to bed and be done with. She stood out, she wanted to help Jacob.. Help him from himself.
Now she was slain by Ariges and his ilk. Such anger and frustration boiled Jacob's blood. He would have been able to save her if only he had not be attacked by the unknown spirit that protected Ariges just a few hours before her death. How could his lord Moshran have done this to him ? Did Jacob not sacrifice himself, his blood daily, his prayers daily, his beliefs daily, to be given a chance to save a life instead of taking one ?
Was Jacob simply another mindless killer ? What good did he do ? Caitlin had tried to save him but he had shunned her, followed his own path and it got her slain. She had offered to take him back, if he had taken that offer he would have been in the castle, been able to protect the frail little woman from the sabre that had torn her flesh like a knife through jam.
How would the world have been different if Jacob had made a different choice and instead trusted in another ? Caitlin would still be alive, Ariges may be dead and the war over. The children Rhiannon and Caden would have grown up with a happy couple and not a broken down man that Pendar had become. And maybe, just maybe Caitlin could have taught Jacob to love, to love another and to understand others.
But no, Jacob had made his decision and Caitlin was gone, forever to be forgotten in a few generations like everyone else. Jacob had to forget about Caitlin and move on; but could he ? Would guarding the town when the war was over be the same without seeing the smiling pale face and nearly completely black eyes ? Caitlin was like a warm summer shower of rain that washed over Jacob's cold numb skin, she had given him comfort and love ?
What was love ? Jacob had forgotten it so, all he knew was lust and greed. That was all Jacob was ... Lust and Greed.

"Goodbye Lady Caitlin."

[Virginie Gladwyn]

The young druid reaches up for a branch and as she gets a grip on it she pulls herself upwards. Two more branches she climbs above, before she sits down on one and leans against the tree trunk.
She fetches a bottle of water from her belt and takes a sip before attaching it back.
"Virginie, what the heck are you doing.", she mumbles to herself and shakes her head, while her gaze wanders east. Somewhere there was Trolls Bane.
"Despite all men who live on this island, you have to fall in love with the one who attacks a dwarven town just the other day? Foolish girl".
She sighs and couldn't get rid of this bad feeling.
Was she the only one seeing his real being?
Would he accept her helping hand?

[Jacob]

"Love" ... What a sensation, what an adventure and what a peril. Jacob had not felt such a powerful emotion in ten years, back when his natural talent at killing was discovered by the other serfs and he was put to use as their champion during the revolution. Yet even back before that Jacob could not remember feeling so attached and yes obsessed with anyone like he was now with Virginie.
His every thought was of her. When he ate he wondered what she was eating; when he dreamed it was of her. He could not forget the way her eyes seemed to turn into cresent moons when she smiled at him; nor the way her voice sounded like a gentle purr of a kitten, it was music to him. Love was music to him and finally it all made sense, it was as if every kiss was a note from his flute and every time he spent a session with Virginie it was a new ballad.
Love vs War, what a terrible time. It must have been Moshran's divine hand to see that Jacob fell in love with the young druid and at the same time had to go to war to keep the friends he had made while serving undercover against the lichs safe from certain doom at the hands of the Grey Rose Knights and others. What a terrible spot, yet Jacob's spirit never fell, "My god" he thought, "I cannot lose while such a fire burns in my heart and my eyes."
Jacob played a fair tune on his flute while he walked through the southern forest in his dark plated armour, ready for anything and ready for change.

[Jacob]

Sitting again on a fallen wall of the lighthouse, the bricks and mortar decaying away as the salty air and mist gnaw away at it. Jacob wears his black armour again, he was lost again. Virginie was a mistake or maybe Jacob was the mistake. He did not know, he only knew that every inch of him felt bruised.
Jacob played a melody, again, alone as always he played what his soul, if he still kept one trapped in his body, felt; what it screamed and what it cried. His soul cried because Jacob never could, he could never express his emotion, it was not there. Only his anger seemed to have been brought about from him showing his heart to Virginie, and being angry was not what Jacob wanted. He wanted to go back to the way he was before. He wanted to eye everyone as just another thing in his way til he could stand as champion to Moshran.
But he could not, as much as he wanted to be that dream, he could not go back. The gates Virginie had opened in his heart would never close again and this pained Jacob so. This was why Jacob had told Irania the truth, because perhaps if Jacob was not a ruined man, perhaps Jacob could have truely loved her. But Irania wanted Jacob to be a lover, and this is what Jacob could not be. He had even adored Irania enough to march around the island searching for her favorite fruit, but even that was not love of course.
Jacob's life was lost as usual, maybe he should start killing again and let whoever could kill him, kill him. Certainly that would be the easier solution to this mess.

[Jacob]

Fear. Jacob thought, his polished, well maintained flute in his hands. The thought raced through his mind and the emotion made his hands wet, mouth dry and his music showed it. His notes not strong and clear but quivering and soft.

The fear he thought of though was not for his life. For his future. Irania was apart of his life, so he said, but she ruined what he was, what he had dreamed of ever since he had lifted his dulled scythe up against his master. He had yearned for the day he could shout to the mountains as warrior of Malachin on this earth, but that day would never come if he remained with the woman. No, he would stay with her, but he would not open himself any longer.

And he would take actions now. His music began to grow stronger, the dull silence of the Varshikar mountains now echoing his music. He would start the avalanche.