The Darkness

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Post subject: The Darkness

Despite its many shortcomings, there is something to be said about the darkness. In the rich impermeable depths of shadow, secrets can be stored and mysteries hidden. It's here in the darkness that life can first take hold, safe from the radiative destruction of light. Darkness is security, safety, and home.

It's no wonder then that darkness is also the source of so many vile monstrosities. Here, evil can brood without interruption, plot without discouragement, and act without reprimand.

The darkness is his first sensation. Darkness, shrouding him in an impenetrable veil of shadow and safety. It wraps around him like wings, quivering and eager for the first flight. Trembling shadows whisper promises of unrestrained freedom and power.

With the darkness, other sensations begin to form; sound, in all its glory, announces itself through the subtle dripping of water. Further in the depths, trickling of a distant stream can be distinguished, coursing its route into the heart of the earth like a parasite searching for the heart of its unhealthy host.

Feeling continues to spread, and the wet dirt beneath him becomes discernible. His fingers roam over the dirt and he clenches it, feeling the pebbles and sand slide through his slender fingers. Something feels wrong.. The texture of the dirt - or is it his fingers?

The darkness seems to be laughing at him, grinning with wicked black teeth and chuckling cruelly. He ignores this perception and focuses on the dirt beneath him. Why does he feel so apprehensive? What is wrong with how this feels?

"Xezvimhi.."

The voice echoes through the darkness, rebounding off distant walls and returning the name in humbler tones. The sound is liquid and inviting. He pushes himself up from the slick floor and onto his knees, straining to listen for another word. The trickle of the stream is all that lingers.

When no more words were spoken, he returns his attention to the ground beneath him. Spreading his hand, he runs it across the pebbly ground and stops when he hears the clicking of stone against stone. Something about this sound is horribly off, and he can't place it. Surely, dirt should sound this way? Then why does it seem so fundamentally ... different?

His memories offer no assistance. Faded and worn, they trail no further then the last few moments, and he pays less attention to his lack of recollection then he does on his current situation. Where is he? What is he doing here? And who is that voice?

"I am the darkness," the voice replies, louder and closer. "I am your guide."

He lifts his head, straining for sight in the impenetrable void, but the blackness does not yield. As much as it protects him, it also leaves him defenseless and blind. The source of the voice could be anywhere.

"I am your God, and you are mine to command. I am your savior, and you are my sacrifice."

The echoes are as authoritative as their precursor, stern and demeaning. The Darkness isn't implying a possibility - it's stating the facts. He know this is true and feels fear seep into him, timid and paranoid.

"The armies you commanded before were in my name, yet you failed me. You allowed the Tower to be destroyed and undermined careful planning that led to my fall. These transgressions may have been forgivable, had you not vied to cut the thread that arbitrated my life and steal my power.

"Instead, yours was the thread cut. Armies rose against you, and I'd have laid them to waste, had you heeded my commands. Kingdoms would now be yours, and more..."

He doesn't know what the darkness speaks of, but he knows it must be true. His memories remain blank but the certainty the shadows command leaves little room for doubt.

"Your life has ended, but your service to me has not. I have knotted the thread of your soul and bound you to consciousness once more, but your journey through this reality will be governed by me.

"Now rise, my servant, and do my bidding."

The darkness yields, fluttering like the leathery wings of bats. Grey light reaches into the shadows of the cave, scratching the darkest corners with rays of drab luminescence. The mouth of the cave stretches fifteen feet wide and no more then ten feet tall, its exit coated in a thick veil of shrubbery and vines. A fickle trail of water courses from this mouth, downhill and towards him.

His eyes follow the stream to where it runs over his fingers and he feels an unwelcome jolt of surprise.

His fingers are bones.

Last edited by Wanderer on Sat May 26, 2012 10:22 pm, edited 3 times in total.

Posted: Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:52 am

"That night, Eurynomos dreamed of animals. Animals he'd never seen before.
He dreamed of tigers fighting spiders. He dreamed an eagle screamed and struck down the sun.
His mind drew pictures of wolves hunting bears, of machines in chaotic landscapes,
of gods weeping and laughing in merriment as the animals played their primal games."

Cerridwen Kirk

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

It's here in the light that life can first take hold, safe from the radiative destruction of darkness. Light is security, safety, and home.

Since departing through Reino Del Hielo's portal into the unknown territories of Aleris, Cerridwen Kirk had alone. She left shortly after watching her younger brother Odin step through the gateway unbeknownst that Emily, her mother, had also followed suit behind her. Despite the close departures of the three Kirks, Cerridwen had seen neither hide nor hair of either member of her family. However, this was not her goal - her quest. She was trying to find her father, Dravvin Kirk, and though she could not see him... she could feel him and his life somewhere beyond the boundaries of Reino Del Hielo.

This had brought some hope to her, since Dravvin was assumed to be dead due to the terrible plague on Mystra Amor. However, after starting her adventure and searching tirelessly, this hope did little too soothe her confidence any longer. Cerridwen had travelled across The Oblivion Mountains, the Shadow Marshes and Soul's Ferry Cemetary - all regions which seemed to be watched by Aleris' Goddess of Winter, Elysia. This, she thought, was a place that she might find her father who was an Ice Elemental.

Nevertheless, Cerridwen found herself going in circles, stepping foot onto lands she had travelled across numerous times. Taking another path, she eventually ended up in the eastern forests Aleris. After months and months of walking through lands she barely knew, the Life Elemental sat down alongside a river that ran against a cave, dividing part of the forest into two halves.

Sunlight filtered down through the canopy of trees, the area relatively warm for the beginnings of Spring. Cerridwen leaned back for a moment, putting her palms on the ground and let herself soak up some of the sun as she tried to hone in on some essence of her father. He has to be in Aleris... He just has to be, she thought letting a bit of her aura flicker as if she were some sort of lighthouse sending out a signal to a lost sailor.

By all appearances, Cerridwen Kirk appeared to look around ten or 12 years old, preferring a younger form that her father might remember upon seeing her. Her mind, however, belonged to that of a 22 year old woman. She was doing everything she could to make sure she found her father, but it hadn't been easy now that she was in Aleris.

The aura of life she had given off did return a new friend she had found while in Aleris. A wolf strode up to her side and sat back on his haunches. Cerridwen leaned over and wrapped her arms around the thick neck of the wolf, cushioned by its gray fur. She whispered into his pointed ear, a language only herself and the wolf could understand. The wolf shook its head sadly and Cerridwen sighed. From Reino del Hielo she had carried with her a glove of her father's and the wolf, taking in the scent of Dravvin, had not been able to find him either.

As she had leaned forward, starting to cup water from the stream into her hands to drink, there was a sudden noise that disturbed her. Water trickled down from the palms of her hand back to its source as she turned her head towards the sound. Solid violet colored eyes watched with interest as the mouth of the cave stretched opened as if it were giving birth. Though the cave was curtained in vines and leaves, there was no doubt the cave had definitely changed its shape as if the thing it was once hiding would soon be revealed.

Her wolf friend stood up on its four legs and a cautious growl issued from its throat. This made Cerridwen stand alert as well. Something was hiding in the depths of the cave, something that was quite the opposite of the Life Elemental. Still, she found herself calling, "Daddy?" as if Dravvin might be coming to protect her from whatever was in the cave.

Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 11:39 am

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

The cave is slow to respond. Shrouded in thick greenery, it resembles the gaping mouth of a feral demon, fangs of spanish moss and crooked rock eagerly awaiting their next tender meal. The water courses down this perceived ghouls throat, quenching the parched bedrock of its abyssal inner workings.

Within the mouth of this metamorphic beast, motion stirs...

--

Memories..

So many memories..

How can a man remember so much? It's a magic of its own, a mystery that's surely confounded the greatest scientists and wizards alike. Perhaps it's the brain, in all its mastery of cellular circuitry, that does the real work. Or perhaps the energy itself, the carnal electrical impulse that drives the tissue, is the one to blame for knowledge and memory.

Whatever the answer, memories are a powerful thing and sometimes they can knock you senseless.

--

"Katrophe, come here.. I've got someone who's been dying to meet you; don't tell your mother about this though." A massive werewolf grinned towards him, sharp yellow eyes sparkling with canine mirth. "She always hated Deverance."

"Who?" he asked, moving after the considerably large steel-grey wolf. They were indoors within the courtyard of a castle, the severe walls arching five stories above them. A tattered red flag was hung from the grey limestone and proudly sported the anagram "HG" in worn black letters.

"A mage. He knew you when you were young... before you came here."

--

Spring was fresh in the air, and the trees were eagerly budding for the coming of summers light. Unfortunately, the light of summer wasn't the only light-show these wizened trees would be getting this season - arcs of electricity burst across the field and slashed into an aged oak, splitting branches and sparking a flame.

"Good, now you've got it!" laughed a tall man, overdressed in blue robes despite the gentle weather. "A little more focus this time, try to channel the energy straighter."

"C'mon, you're like a slave driver.. I hit the tree finally.."

"Yeah, so what? I hit it a month ago, you saw! Now, let's see if you can hit it half as straight as I did."

Another burst of energy tore across the peaceful field.

--

"Sir, we've got to make the attack!" Cries of bloodshed rang through the air, and the frenzied man feet away from him was screaming hoarsely to be heard above the deafening racket. "If we wait too long, they'll breach the second walls and-"

"I said, hold position! We cannot afford to be premature."

The fortress shook as a maelstrom of burning bricks pelted from above. Men screamed and ran, ducking away from the catapult debri. Others were less lucky. From the crenelation where he stood, they were safe enough.

"But sir -"

"The timing must be precise, Adjunct! Do as I say or I will have you punished. Now, wait for the ripping stone to -- there! Now.. Tell them now! Give the order, open the gate!"

--

A crumpled bag, scattering jawbones across a marble floor.

--

Silenti.

--

"Daddy?" the darkness of the cave replies finally, to Cerridwen. The voice is languid but enriched with malice. "In a way, perhaps. You see, I am the father of your death."

Shadows move and the white boned figure of a skeleton walks itself from the mouth of the cave. Empty sockets stare blankly at Cerridwen, while a lipless mouth grins. So good to finally remember.

Posted: Mon May 09, 2011 5:42 am

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

"Chronomancy: the ability to manipulate time or the perception thereof.

"Many chronomancers have learned to accept a simple truth: there is nothing but the present.

"The present is the only thing which exists. The future is what may or may not exist, and the past is the unchangeable truth of what has existed already.

"The present, for all standard purposes, is the only changeable factor and the only constant of time."

--

Pitted sockets stare across the opening at Cerridwen. Nothing separates them but a wolf and two yards of wet pebble strewn ground. Despite this, the lifeless corpse hesitates.

--

"Why can't we change the past?" he asked, sitting against the base of a burnt oak. The forest they'd attacked yesterday was now a beautifully charred remnant marking the signs of his conquests. This particular tree was cut cleanly in half - the best yet. Deverance stood over him, pacing back and forth.. his blue robes in tow.

"We could, if we worked hard enough. But like any magic, it's wise to start small and work your way into complex things. I know of light elementals, creatures who exist in all times, that can change the course of our history - but they destroy our present and future! It's like a death, if you think about it..

"Anyways, what I want to teach you is incredibly simpler. You see... chronomancy isn't always about changing the past.

"A great deal of time has to do with the present."

Deverance grinned towards him and then pointed a jeweled finger at nearby gnat.

"Take this insect, for instance. It may die in an hour - and you, in a thousand years! What a waste, when you could've known this creature or observed it. Now, what if you could pause time?

"No, don't answer that.. If you could freeze time, you could take your time observing each moment of this animals life. In fact, you could take years documenting each second, if you felt like it!" The mage grinned, his brown eyes widening suggestively. "Everything around us, each life or book, each mystery or urgent riddle - can be granted infinite time."

The mage continued to pace, trampling cat-tails and defiant blades of grass while listening to the youths query: "And it's possible?"

"Possible, yes! And probable, too! For all we know, there is someone studying us this very instant, freezing us in place and measuring our finest hairs. The problem however lies with the life spans and diets of all life - when we slow time down through the use of arcanum, there's no simple way to slow our own metabolism as well."

"Metabolism? Uh.."

"Imagine this: You freeze time for a month. During this month, everyone around you doesn't age, of course, since they're frozen. Meanwhile, your own biological clock will continue to tick. You'll need food, and you'll age!"

"Okay.. so, I grow. What's the problem?"

"I doubt you would enjoy watching your wife or children stay young while you waste away your years in a frozen purgatory. You cannot slow down time without speeding up your own demise. This is the fate of many chronomancers and the reason they use this skill sparingly, save the few immortals who refuse to age.. Immortals, like you."

--

"Time.." the corpse speaks, its jaws moving uselessly. "It can be.. fascinating. But in Elysium, Denuo and Silenti were close relatives."

The skeleton simply vanishes, leaving nothing but footsteps in the sand and an altar of blood.

The wild wolf Cerridwen had visited him with is dead - ruined and defiled, its skin is stretched across a six-sided star frame of pine. The skull is cleaned and whitened, hanging from a femur bone and positioned proudly at the forefront. Entrails have been carefully spiraled around this macabre display, and the blood used to spell out a violent message. All this occurs in moments, time itself skewed and brutalized in the branding of these crimson words:

"Death has come."

Posted: Tue May 10, 2011 2:15 am

Cerridwen Kirk

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

The being that stepped from the black depths of the cave was far from the warm and familiar figure she had hoped would be her father. Instead, the being that slinked towards her direction was a skeleton. Sunken dark eye sockets nearly bore holes into her soul and what was left of a skeletal mouth, turned upwards into a grin at seeing her. And when the ghoul spoke, its voice laced with ill intent, she reacted and took a few steps backwards as the thing moved forwards. It had said it was the father of her death and she wanted no part of such a thing.

Cerridwen had no desire to touch the living dead thing that walked. Instead, she now ached to free herself from its line of vision, from the empty pools of blackness that stared her down. Upon moving away, she realized suddenly that the skeleton had hesitated in its path towards her and almost in defense, she held up her hand. Her palm turned, facing the boned figure, as if she might heal it back to life.

Then, the skeleton spoke once more and to her amazement, it was talking about the gods of Mystra Amor. It was then that she realized perhaps the skeleton was so disoriented it had no idea where it really was. Full violet colored orbs searched the "person" before her for answers. Who was this?

"Denuo... Silenti... You are a long way from home," Cerridwen spoke. "You have been abandoned in this land by your gods."

It seemed, however, that her words had fallen on deaf ears. The skeleton vanished into the air and Cerridwen spun in a circle, looking about her for some attack that might have come. For a few moments, she was lost, as if time had stopped and she could not even remember where she was. When she finally considered that the skeleton might have been gone forever, her eyes fell onto the mutilated form that was once her wolf friend.

Seeing its body torn to pieces and bones broken, proudly displayed upon a tree, Cerridwen screamed in the otherwise quiet forest. Birds flew from treetops, cawing loudly. Then she moved, running towards the dead wolf that hung brutally to the tree and without any hesitation, placed her hands against the mess of it. No matter how much she tried, her animal friend was taken by death, and only green leaves grew from the tree beneath her palms. She backed away, feeling her efforts utterly futile, and finally saw the crimson message scrawled across pine.

For a few moments she stopped and then responded to the message, "No... Never." With that, she turned on her feet, fleeing from the spot, blood still on her hands. Cerridwen was now intent on stopping Death which had started its journey through Aleris, hoping that the same fate that befell her wolf fiend would not befall anyone else.

Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 3:25 pm

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

Almedda was once a desolate land scarred by three brutal years of warfare and tyranny. Burdened by the weight of Xezvimhis' bloody vision, Almedda had burned and destroyed every resource in the creation of a war machine known as the Aquilis Molior. This frightening tower finished what the Almeddans had started, draining every drop of energy from the realm until even the dead struggled to survive.

But much time has passed since Xezvimhi ruled these lands, and many things have changed. What was once five Houses of Almedda, is now only four - the house of Corporis, dark necromancers and wizards, have been removed from power after Xezvimhi proved how harmful these black arts had become. The hundreds of undead who served in the Elysian campaigns were banished or slain on account of their accursed condition, and those that survived fled to the wastes.

In time the Evincans, green robed warriors who prized honor and glory over conquest, had become the rulers of the new Almedda. Strong in war, they were even stronger in peace, and over years Almedda was able to rebuild pockets of life in the wasteland of their world.

Eventually, the Evincans tired of peace and yearned for more than what their humble realm could provide. The charred remnants of Almedda offered only the smallest and most bitter of fruits. So it came to pass the eight Evincan Lords agreed that the ancient and frightening power of the ripping stones be used again.

It is in this glorious age we set our sights on the hot-blooded squire Deruge and his Evincan master.

--

A great dome of light arches over the city of Veyja, showering the city in warmth and protecting it from the frightful creatures which plague the desolation outside. Like a sphere of gold on a barren field, this great city has become the heart of Almedda. A rich life force permeates the city, for the ripping gates have been opened and the plundering and conquest of other worlds has begun.

These gates are fantastic sights to behold. Archways towering two stories tall, encrusted with the runes and ripping stones which bind this world to another, are bustling with the excitement of war. Men at arms enter the gates, fresh and yearning for glory, while others return laden with loot and eager for the company of their wives and the enjoyment of their plundered riches. Nearby the poor and clever alike crowd the gates, offering services in exchange for a meager portion the abundant wealth these soldiers bring with them. Of course, where the poor lurk the thieves also hide, and it is not uncommon for a man to find his ivory statue or gold bowl missing before he's even left the area.

Such is the sight Deruge Altreus witnesses as he follows his master through the bustling crowd, pulling a pack horse in his wake. His tousled brown hair and piercing green eyes mark his Evincan ancestry, the same traits which define the man he follows. But here the similarities end. His face slender and his body lean, Deruge is no fit warrior, yet his eyes burn with an excitement and eagerness not uncommon for prospecting warriors heading to the wars. Sixteen years on this earth have left little impression on the young man, and his eyes are wide as he soaks in the sights of all these warriors moving to and fro.

The man he follows goes by the name Jasker Ellins. Built like an ox, he shoulders easily through the crowd with a bold authority. He was twice glorified in the wars of Aterim, once in the bloody battle of Jurmun where he so impressed the Evincan Lord Trechis that Jasker was granted a force of three hundred men at arms trained in Veyja. It was in this bloody battle that Jasker earned the scar across his ear and neck which almost ended his life.

This is the man he follows, and Deruge could think of no one more worthy. So he pulls the stubborn horse through the dense crowd until at last they approached the relatively clear opening before the ripping gate.

Deruge holds his breath. In front of him and yet an entire world away lies the realm of Aterim. This beautiful world is rich in life, and the empires here are practiced in great and curious magics and machines which fail to work in Almedda. Blood and steel behaves the same in both worlds, and the great Evincans have already conquered a size-able portion of this utopian land.

Here he could gain glory and advancement, and prove his mettle in combat. Here, Deruge could become a great warrior and eventually earn his own right to be among the Councils of Veyja.

--

"Jasker, my friend!" cries a soldier as he charges through the crowd. "By my ten finger bones, I never thought I'd lay these failing eyes on you again. Say, I have heard of great conquest in Jurmun, some say you even saved Trechis Deufont's neck! Is it true then that he has granted the noble Ellis family, yourself foremost, the command of three hundred Evincans?"

"True," Jasker replies as he embraces the comrade. "All that is true, and more! But for each story you've heard there is fifteen more lies, for I endeavored not to save Trechis' neck any more than he would have saved mine.. Were that he had succeeded, I wouldn't have this horrible scar."

Laughing, the soldier turns his green eyes on Deruge. "Ahh, and this then must be the Altreus boy? A noble family, that. I met your father, ten and five years ago at least. It's a shame he was slain in the taking of Fort Caltros two years past.."

Deruge nods. "Aye, a shame and a great loss.. my household has suffered much, my mother most of all."

"Ahh, the fair old dame Alexys, if I recall!"

"And if you should know my family so intimately, what then is your name?"

"I am Cherin, of the proud Torin family. No finer bowman you're likely to meet on this side of the ripping gate." He thrusts out his thick hand and the squire shakes it. Then Cherin turns his eyes back to Jasker.

"Now, lord, if you are to head to Aterim as I suspect, you may wish to reconsider. I've heard a great announcement just hours before I saw you, on the other side of this very gate. It seems the Evincan Lord of Helmseed, Lord Elan Daethrus, is coming to Veyja on the morrow to open a new gate!"

Jasker's thick brows narrow. "Why? Is it not true our forces are spread thin in Aterim as it is?"

"In sooth, I wondered the same. But alas we'll hold our curiosity for when he comes. It may be that a great new campaign awaits us all."

The seasoned warrior turns his eyes down to his squire. "Then it's settled. We shall find an inn and seek company with Lord Elan on the morrow. It seems there is much glory to be earned from this conquest in a new world, perhaps we may find a fatter cow there than the one to be slaughtered in Aterim. Thank you, Cherin, for your advice. Perhaps we shall ride together at sunrise to this new place. What then did you say this realm is called?"

"For now," replies the archer. "They are calling it Aleris."

Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 9:34 pm

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

Xezvimhi had panicked. It was no wonder! His god has abandoned him.

Looking back on the hurried steps he left in the beaten path, Xezvimhi reflects on what has happened in the last twenty four hours.

He had frozen time. This was an ability which had long ago become second nature, a skill he'd come to know quite well. But when he looked upon Cerridwen and her wolf standing motionless, the wind itself holding its chilled breath, his god fled. Weakened, he nearly crumpled to the floor in a pile of bones he was certain would never rise again.

There is great determination in his spirit, and Xezvimhi held himself together with the remnants of the soul he'd been given. Eager to return to the power of Silenti, the skeleton attempted to reverse his spell and return to normal time. To find his god.

This is where everything went wrong.

Time, Deverance had once warned him long ago, was a dangerous element. Entire civilizations could live and die in a single heartbeat, their empires built and turned to dust before a second has passed. Yet, repeated experience had shown these warnings to be false to Xezvimhi - time was empty, once frozen there existed no threats. Indeed, he'd spent hundreds of hours in the safety of those frozen corridors, immune to the aging world outside.

But with time brought to a halt, and Cerridwen and her useless pet immobile, Xezvimhi saw what no normal eyes could see. He saw time - frozen - and within it, life.

Green-grey molds covered everything around him, even Cerridwen and himself. The slightest motion and the molds vaporized off his body, drifting thickly in the air. Around him, the pine forest now seemed enriched with a new life, colors of deep red and vibrant green staining the predictable brown hues of the landscape. Strange crimson flowers clung to the trees, and yellow tendrils dangled down.

This, he realized, was the life that existed between every moment, the very life Deverance had warned about. But where did all this material end up, once decomposed and discarded? And why couldn't he normally see it?

Logic struggled to explain what he saw, but Xezvimhi stumbled forwards to the entrance of the cave, kicking up wisps of the frail mold. Silenti, the dark presence which had thus far clung to the skeleton desperately, seemed to be entirely absent. The energy Silenti provided was draining away, leaving Xezvimhi weak. This was more important than the bizarre life he saw around him, and Xezvimhi set to work creating the macabre altar he'd left for Cerridwen - a prize for his god, a plea for favor.

A full day later, and Xezvimhi is still trapped within the confines of time. Not a moment has passed. He is certain, if he turns around and retraces his steps, he'll find Cerridwen standing still, looking into the face of a skeleton who'd long since moved, unaware of the horror which had already befallen her pet.

But that isn't an option. Something, or someone, is giving chase, and fresh noises of pursuit push the warlord frantically down the rugged mountain to escape what he is certain will result in his second and final death. The skeleton pushes through a tangle of tongue-like protrusions which grows parasitically from the black vines above, cursing beneath his breath as the hooked thorns catch on his bones. These thick branches cover the trees, blotting out the light, a species of plant he knows he'll never see again if he ever gets out of this frozen hell.

"Dangerous things happen when you play with time," Deverance had warned.

The padding of feet behind him confirms the wizards frightening truth. For the first time since he's risen from the grave, Xezvimhi knows fear.

Posted: Tue Mar 27, 2012 3:23 am

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

Xezvimhi had spent a year trapped in this place. Yet not a single second had passed.

He knew - he found a water tower clock, in one of the villages, and he visited it often. The drops of water hung patiently in the air, drifting down at a rate his eyes couldn't see. But they did move - over the course of a year, the droplet of water in the clock tower had fallen three inches.

He'd been trapped in time before. The last time was much longer. Two thousand years. It was also more frightening. The dark forest had lured him in - a wilderness frozen in time, cursed and enchanted. Every step deeper into the forest a person took, the further from flowing time they became. But the wilds were protected by ancient runes, made to lure creatures into this forest. Xezvimhi and his host Katrophe had been unwilling prisoners.

It took them two thousand years to figure out how to escape. When they returned to the flowing world, only months had passed. This time, Xezvimhi was determined to make his visit to times frozen corridors much shorter.

The warlord skeleton had spent quite some time adjusting to the bizarre world around him. Frozen in time, monstrosities and ethereal plants grew in abundance. These creatures seemed to feed off each other. It was as if another world existed in this second. He wondered what it would look like, a minute from now.

He'd managed to adapt. He was wrapped in a cloak, the black fur thick and smooth. The material had been skinned off a majestic eighteen-legged beast which chased him down. Xezvimhi, cornered, had resorted to violent and desperate measures.

He'd found a suit of armor, and took it upon himself to 'borrow' it from the armorer, who didn't seem to mind. In fact, Xezvimhi was certain the man didn't even blink as he walked into the shop and adorned himself. The suit was finely made, dark black metal lined with silver. The breastplate was polished so Xezvimhi could see his own ghastly reflection in the surface. But that wasn't the best part.

A magnificent horned helm, fashioned in the shape of a demons head, was what sold Xezvimhi on the armor. The face was almost entirely covered, save for a series of holes where the demons hundred 'eyes' peered out from the frightening mask. Jagged black teeth had been implied where the mouth-guard covered his face. The horns were coated in silver, and reflected brightly from their proud position mounted on the crown of the black helmet.

Xezvimhi plundered other equipment from the armorers shop before moving on - a bastard sword he strapped to his back, a shortsword at his hip, and two dirks, one for his boot and one for his hip as well.

Once armed, Xezvimhi felt half normal. He looked down at his mailed fist and chuckled. He looked human.

There was plenty of time for other ventures, and Xezvimhi wasn't one to waste his hours appreciating armor. The next thing he'd done was engrave his bones.

After working with magic for such a long time, the warlord had a certain understanding of its properties that most men couldn't even begin to comprehend. He had, after all, nearly merged two completely separate realms together with the use of a massive machine, the tower Aquilis Molior.

When he began working on his bones, Xezvimhi set out with a determined strategy. Energy can be harnessed and utilized. He simply needed to create a conduit, with which the arcane can manifest itself. The runes and symbols he carved into his bones did just that. They drew on the energy around him, and charged and stored it in a series of interlocking rings.

When he was done, Xezvimhis' bones were tattooed and marked from head to toe. It took him months. Once the process was complete, every bit of arcane energy nearby was drawn to Xezvimhi like a magnet, charging him with power. There the sorcery remained, until such time as the warlord was prepared to release it.

This power did him little good. No matter what he tried, Xezvimhi could not return time to its normal flow. He was trapped.

He set about making a structure, inspired by the Aquilis Molior. This building was obviously much smaller than the massive black tower he'd made in his past, but it served a similar purpose - to open a gate into another realm. Perhaps, he figured, if he opened such a gate, he would be able to escape this time dilation.

When the building was ready, it looked like a heap of metal and stone. "Not my most artistic work," Xezvimhi admitted, then ignited the spell.

A small red crack the size of a fingernail burst into the air above the contraption. Xezvimhi would have grinned if he had a face. This was it! Once the doorway opens, he'll be able to walk right through, into another world and probably into normal time.

Only, the doorway never opened. The crack grew no larger than a fingernail. And it stayed that size for months. The spell itself was frozen in time.

It was a while after that, Xezvimhi found a ripping gate. He hadn't made this portal. Oh, no. But he recognized its design instantly. Almeddans were opening a doorway into Aleris.

The handiwork was obvious. The red stain, identical to the one he'd created weeks before, was a trademark sign of the magic Xezvimhi had taught his people. The doorway was opening, and much faster than Xezvimhis' meager crack dared to. He'd found it the size of a mans head, but within hours it had grown several feet in diameter. He could see through the filiment, into the other side. Knights and warriors had lined up in front of the gate, proud Evincans by the looks of their clothes.

Xezvimhi mumbled a curse and charged through the opening gate, drawing his bastard sword. He didn't expect a warm welcome from his long-lost brethren. Last time he'd seen them, he had nearly destroyed Almedda trying to merge it into Mystra Amor. This should be interesting, he thought.

Last edited by Wanderer on Sat Jul 14, 2012 3:19 am, edited 1 time in total.

Posted: Sat May 26, 2012 8:26 pm

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

Deruge Altreus woke to thunderous noise. Men were screaming, and fire roared outside the inn. He fumbled for awareness and lurched from the bed, his brain still drowning in sleep. Is this a dream? He wondered as he ran to the window.

The Kneeling Widow's Inn was positioned close enough to the ripping gates that Deruge saw all too much. The gates were lined up in a row, each one a doorway into another realm, and most were closed. But two gates - Aterim and Aleris - stood open. The cause of the mayhem came from Aleris.

Oh gods, Deruge thought frantically. I've slept in! Where is Jasker? What's going on down there!? He considered grabbing his armor, but stood instead transfixed on the sight below.

Someone had charged through the gate from Aleris. Adorned in horned armor nearly as black as the cloak on his back, the man wielded a bastard sword and had apparently mowed through the Evincans near the gate. A circle surrounded him, a spell circle which had been engraved in the floor. The monstrous man was facing his enemies, his sword at the front, parrying attacks and slashing away at Evincans as he spoke.

Even as Deruge watched, more runes appeared on the floor in the circle surrounding the attacker. He was a sorcerer - there was no doubt.

"Boy! What are you doing swaddled in your bed robes like some fool!?" Cherin had walked up to him, and Deruge didn't even notice. The archers eyes were wide as he stared out the window a brief moment. "Get your armor on and let's find Jasker. He'll need help suiting up."

Deruge didn't need to be told twice. He quickly set about gathering and equipping his armor. It was made of dark boiled leather, but loose plates of bronze were sewn over it like scales. He covered his arm with splinted vambraces. Greaves and cuisses equipped, Deruge donned his gorget. Fully armored, he looked the squire he belonged. Cherin tossed him his green cloak and charged out the door of the room. Deruge followed, chancing one last glance at the ripping gate outside his window.

What he saw made his heart lurch into his throat. Fifty or more skeletons now occupied the spell circle the attacker had created. They wore the coats of Evincans, Veneficans, Accersans, and even Curatians, but they guarded the attacker proudly. Their cloaks and armor seemed unharmed while thick smoke roiled from their bones. The spell circle had created a barrier and it seemed to be a stand-off between the living and the dead.

Necromancy!

--

Xezvimhi was only getting started. He chanted persistently as he paced his protective spell ward. More runes appeared on the floor, brought forth by his tongue and made more potent by their very presence. Energy was rippling between him and the rest of Almedda. He was protected - but that wasn't enough.

"Stop this at once!" cried a man as he strode towards the spell circle. The figure approaching him was massive, and he wore the wolf helmet that marked him as a Knight of the Evincans. Not much has changed, Xezvimhi thought as he watched the man approach. He considered killing him outright, but the person demanded authority. If he had any hope of winning over the Almeddans, this man might be his chance, and murder his downfall.

Xezvimhi stopped chanting and faced the man. A barrier of arcane energy separated the pair. The warlord sized him up. He could see a pair of fearless green eyes glaring through the slits in the canine helm.

"Do you know who I am?" Xezvimhi asked the man.

"A denizen of Aleris. Apparently a frightful realm. It's a shame we've cut you off from your friends."

Xezvimhi glanced behind him. It was true. The gate to Aleris was closed, magic no longer sustaining the bridge between the two worlds. It was no concern to him. Aleris was nothing to him. All he knew of the place, he had learn in a year frozen in time, save for his brief interaction with Cerridwen. Almedda, however.. this place, he knew.

He turned back to the Evincan knight. "I am Xezvimhi, the Birvuo and your rightful King."

It was obvious even the sturdy Evincan hadn't expected that. He fumbled for words as he spoke, and his eyes were wide with surprise and suspicion. "But.. that.. It's impossible. Xezvimhi was killed in the Elysian Campaigns."

Xezvimhi shrugged. "He was also a great sorcerer, who had died before time and time again."

"A traitor. He destroyed Almedda. He raped the land and fed her bastard children to Silenti."

"Does Almedda look destroyed to you?! I have never attempted to harm this realm! It was glory, and power, which I yearned - which we all yearned - before I was betrayed! Betrayed by Maxim Redmont, the vampire - the Kinslayer."

"Necromancy is banned. What you have done here is a sin in the sights of Gods and Men. You will be tried, and you will be found guilty, and you will be sentenced to a more permanent death."

Xezvimhi laughed. "So sure of that, are you? If need be, I will reconquer this world. I'd rather do it without bloodshed."

The Evincan raised his hand and called out a command: "Activate the Shield."

The sky above, normally a glowing orange from the protective sorcery that defended the city of Veyja, tainted the color of red. The enchanted lights in Veyja began to flicker out, one by one. Then the gate to Aterim crashed shut violently, a loud tearing noise reverberating through the square.

"What sorcery is this?!" Xezvimhi demanded, even as he watched the barrier he'd placed between himself and the Evincans fade and dissipate. The undead soldiers around him collapsed one by one.

"This isn't sorcery, Your Grace," the Evincan said cruelly as he approached. A hundred Evincans poured out of the cracks in the street, all eyes on him. "This is anti-magic. All the cities of Almedda have it employed in the Shield. Because of the likes of you."

Xezvimhi felt his bones collapsing as arcane energy faded from him. Then he blacked out entirely.

Last edited by Wanderer on Sat Jul 14, 2012 3:24 am, edited 1 time in total.

Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2012 5:00 pm

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Post subject: Re: The Darkness

Deruge Altreus fiddled nervously with a stack of papers as he sat beside Jasker Ellins. The courtroom was massive, and crammed with onlookers. Notable among them were two of the Eight High Lords. Lord Trechis Deufont sat to the right side of Jasker. His grey hair barely managed to frame his weathered face, and he peered coolly at the proceedings with his piercing hazel eyes. After him was Lord Elan Daethrus, Lord of Helmseed. He had the traits of an Accersan, with black hair and dark brown eyes, but he was a notable Evincan warlord and his face was laced with a series of scars to prove it. The table was filled with lesser Evincan leaders and squires, all here to testify against Xezvimhi.

The fabled Birvuo was trapped in a spell circle in the center of the room. His bones were an ugly pile on the floor, and Deruge found it hard to believe that a spirit was chained to those bizarre remnants. Venefican mages had carefully destroyed the deadlier runes on the skeleton's frame, and the field around the corpse was littered with antimagic properties. Deruge had never seen such a prison before - most men were contained easily enough with bars made of steel.

He remembered what Cherin the archer had said before Deruge prepared for the trial. "It'll be a farce, I'd wager my bow on it. That skeleton's caused more damage than any of us are like to dream of. They'll be givin' his bones to the dogs for dinner tonight."

It certainly seemed that way. The stories he'd heard of Xezvimhi were atrocious. The Aquilis Molior was in many ways his least horrible act.. First, he had conquered Almedda and all the surrounding islands. He even managed to head south across the Straights of Tariq and invade the otherwise wild lands of Dojis'fey, though the conquest was costly and short lived. After that, Xezvimhi had resorted to more desperate means of obtaining victory, ravaging the Almeddan landscape with armies of undead workers.

When the Aquilis Molior was built, he made the promise to restore life to Almedda - the life he'd taken. Yet the Aquilis Molior was another horrendous failure. Thousands of Almeddan men poured into Mystra-Amor, but none came back. The Tower itself simply flickered out, leaving Almedda without a King and without even an army.

It took three hundred years for any semblance of normal life to rebuild. The world Deruge enjoyed was so much different than it used to be.. Grass no longer grew wild, but had to be sustained within the Shields. Most of Almedda was wasteland. He'd heard what Aterim looked like, with lush fields that grew under a blue sky, and Xezvimhi had taken that away.

He hated the man, and he never even knew him. He knew how the other Almeddans felt.

"Lords and Ladies!" The voice of Elan Daethrus roared over the court. The man had stood up from the desk and was addressing the gathered crowd. "Today we try the warlord Xezvimhi the Birvuo for crimes of necromancy, murder, destruction of our lands and people, the massacre of thousands of Almeddans in the Elysian Campaigns, the creation of the vile Corpirian sect, and worse. As you all know, the list of his deeds are beyond recounting. Yet, however heinous his deeds, Almeddan Law allows for a defense before he is punished.

"Venefican, please allow Xezvimhi to awaken."

A hush fell over the court as the blue robed mage crouched down next to the spell circle and dashed out a rune. The skeletal bones shifted unnaturally, bound by unseen currents of energy, then the figure of the undead warlord rose to its feet.

--

Xezvimhi turned his gaze over the gathered lords of Almedda. They were all staring at him with hatred in their eyes. The majority of those eyes were green, he noticed. The Evincans had taken power.

"Xezvimhi, you stand before us accused. We shall cover your crimes, one by one. First, you have committed Necromancy, as it's obvious you're a construct of the undead. Necromancy is outlawed. Furthermore, you created the House of Corporis during your tyrannical reign, and that cult has continued to assault Almedda for hundreds of years. How do you plead?"

"First, tell me something. How long have I been gone?" Xezvimhi studied the lord he spoke with. Brown eyes stared back at him.

"Kill the bastard!!!" Someone cried out from the crowd.

Lord Elan ignored the remark as he replied to Xezvimhi. "You haven't been seen for three hundred and six years."

"Alright.. Well, I'm assuming things have changed since I've been gone. First of all, Necromancy is banned? Since when?! Necromancy is no different than any other school of the arcane."

"Necromancy uses and binds souls of the deceased to objects. It's been banned for three hundred and six years - since you ruined Almedda with necromancy."

Xezvimhi laughed. "I ruined Almedda? Do you forget what happened when the Aquilis Molior fell? Or..." He looked across the crowd of hostile faces. "Or no one ever told you what happened in Mystra-Amor. You kept the gate closed after Maxim betrayed us, didn't you?"

"Maxim Redmont. You mentioned his name before. What does he have to do with this trial?"

"Did your historians forget to write down all the little details of our campaign? I invaded Mystra-Amor, this is true - but I had the backing of all Five Houses of Almedda when I committed to the war."

"Four Houses. The Corpirians are outlawed."

"Four Houses, then. And when we invaded Mystra-Amor, we all knew the risks. We agreed that Maxim Redmont would be able to assist in the conquest. He was an Avatar of Praeda. The men under his command were among the best swordsman I've ever seen. The effects of the Aquilis Molior were at their peak and the victory was neigh guaranteed when Maxim Redmont betrayed me, betrayed us, when he disabled the Aquilis Molior's ripping stone. He lost us that battle, lost us that entire war, and got me killed in the process."

"This doesn't change anything. Whether or not Maxim conspired against Almedda, you assisted. And once more returning to the charge of necromancy, and the formation of the Corpirian House.." Lord Elan was getting annoyed.

"You are an Accersan, I can see it in your face. Your eyes." Xezvimhi studied the man through the barrier of his prison. "Do you know that the House of Accerso uses skills identical in nature to the Corpirians? That the art of summoning and creating flesh also requires the ability to create a surrogate soul? If I am a necromancer, so is all the Accersan House."

"The House of Accerso deals with creating living things. You deal with death. Your very condition is a testament to this."

"Give me enough time, and I will put flesh on these cold bones. Then I will be as Accersan as the rest of them."

"Necromancy is banned. You will not change our stance."

The skeleton shrugged. "You cannot kill me. Silenti protects me. This trial is a joke, we both know it. If you slay me, I will only rise again."

"See?!" Lord Trechis Deufont cried out, pounding his fist on the table. "He worships the God of Death! Execute him!"

Xezvimhi laughed. "Yes, please. I wish to return to my conquest."

"Enough of this," Elan hissed.

"I have a plan that may work for both of you, and for me as well.." Xezvimhi studied the lords, ignoring the mumbling crowd at his back. "Let me capture the traitor Maxim. Let me return him to your justice. Then let me finish what I started so long ago in Mystra-Amor. The realm can give Almedda life again. We were so close.."

"The ritual will never be performed again. The cost was too great. Venefican, please send Xezvimhi back to his sleep. We have the matter of punishment to discuss."

The Venefican walked over to Xezvimhi, crouched down by the spell circle, and wrote a symbol on the ground in chalk. Xezvimhi felt the world going dark and he collapsed in a pile of bones on the floor.

Posted: Sat Jun 30, 2012 4:45 pm

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