Vigil
By Fadeen | March 16, 2015
She had stirred enough to drink.. though for long moment it had seemed he would fail then.. He had tasted true fear in that moment.. Fear that he had failed before even truly setting to task.. If she had died then, drained of life in his arms as if she was nothing more than passing meal.. What then.. as he had in the moment he felt the chill climb his spine the fear and uncertainty washing over him in cold waves.. He fought to push it down, to force his mind to focus on what lay before him.. She had died.. But she had stirred.. the first gate passed without incident..
Once again he found himself murmuring soft supplications to the one her Sire had called Sire.. what good it would do he could not help but wonder.. He recalled their words on the subject.. That he was little more than one so Ancient and powerful he seemed godlike.. Even absent any true divinity.. but even as he mused at the logic of that assessment he remembered her reverence.. Her certainty that he was more then them.. More then any.. Truly a God..
And so he continued his murmured prayers.. If the gesture was empty, at least it afforded him the feeling he was able to do -something-.. That was what tore at him the most, he had done all he could.. Aligned all as best he could and now it lay beyond his hold.. Beyond his control. All the plans all the intent all the wishes and hopes and dreams he may have deigned to let haunt him now sat stilled within the tomb before him..
And yet still even if she rose now, what was to say she would not follow in steps to madness as his own brother had, turned absent tradition and proper method.. by those who were worthy of bestowing such dark blessing.. Clearly he was not, clearly he was doomed to that same fa- NO. He forced the thoughts to silence, even as they threatened to consume him in rising torrent of fear..
He swallowed hard in the darkness, his eyes fixated on the tomb yet still.. His mind drifting back, remembering the night in life when his Father had stood vigil beside her.. even knowing then there was no chance she would rise.. His mind played on such times, on the times before he had stood watch.. Waiting even in this unlife beyond the traditions of those he was born to.. Guarding stilled form in hopes that Spirit might find their ancestors..
He had damned her from that path.. Whatever was to become of her.. Her Spirit as his, would never rest with the Ancestors.. and if he failed.. he would have doomed her for nothing.. for selfish dream, hope that she might offer something beyond slow and steady march into the blackness..
He shook his head, his whispered words the only sound in the Blackness, the old familiar supplication he had heard whispered a thousand times over other stilled forms..
'Find her Worthy Father.. And let her Rise. '
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Draw
By Fadeen | March 16, 2015
All he could hope to do was delay him.. He'd never be able to stop him fully..
So instead he bent his will to that task.. to being the insurrection within the mind that had once been his, instead of attempting to seize it, he would attempt to confuse the creature.. slow it down, throw it off.. Strike when it was less focused.. All the small ways a swarm of insects might take down much larger prey.. With a thousand small stings, over one direct blow..
As the last chain fell to the ocean floor, he felt the wave pass through the other.. Something was supremely amiss, and he heard the creature cry out in the darkness of his mind...
'No.. No you little -Bitch- No! NOT AGAIN!'
Their form stilled collapsing to the ocean floor and at once he felt the compulsion sweeping through the creature, and reverberating back off the wall of his own mind.. They were being summoned.. And if they were being summoned it could mean but one thing..
She was drawing them back.. Because she had found way to lay chains that even -He- could not break..
Lips formed cruel smile in the bleakness.. as he moved to answer the call..
-AR
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Preparations
By Fadeen | March 16, 2015
The camp always seemed the best place.. Teeming with those none might miss, and if tale -did- spread.. it would only seem some monster was attacking bandits.. None should lose much sleep or take much care of such..
Because of his purpose tonight he did not bother to raise alarm, but rather stalked his prey most isolated from one another, feeding in the darkness before fading back to shadow to let drained husk be found by day's light..
He drank till he had no thirst left, and then yet further to ensure he would have enough to see task to completion.. This was one time he dare not risk merely sating his thirst.. No, tonight he would gorge himself.. Both for what lay ahead and one other task of less crucial nature, though still necessary.. He would need his blood for that as well.. He would thrall that one though, he dared not risk him remembering his work, or asking any strange questions and when he was done with him.. He would serve well in another capacity..
After all, once awoken She would wish to sate her own thirst..
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Depth
By Fadeen | March 15, 2015
'What now, what do you expect this will achieve.. you can't hold me in here forever -Child- then what.. what happens after that...?
He remained silent, refusing as he had since he left her to dignify it with a response..
''You must realize that even -this- will not work.. There is no way to stop me.. I will have what I want. You can accept this, or you can waste time idly resisting.. but in the end all roads will lead to the same place..'
His eyes remained fixed to the horizon, his voice silent even as deckhand approaches throat cleared to draw attention..
'Ah.. sir, we be a'reachin' tha place yah asked fer.. It'sa.. s'right deep here..'
He remained silent nodding only and then turned looking down to heavy chains laid upon the deck... He his hand slipped within the cloak as he offered the sailor the bag of coins and then gestured to the chains, leaning to seize one in his hand, wrapping it's weight around his shoulder.. even as the sailor offered him yet another..
'Bind them tightly.. drive the nails between them and bend them with whatever you have to do so..'
'Beggin yer pardon sir.. but as'n yer wearin' plate.. ah.. is.. this nece'ary?'
He fixed the man with a hard look, but said nothing only glaring at him till he set about the work. Slowly the heavy chains were bound tightly, wrapping around his arms, legs and coming together at his chest, before nails were beat into broken coils.. holding them firmly in place..
Laden so he shuffled to the edge of the deck, his eyes cast down into blackening waters below..
As the cold of water touched to his skin, and the blackness drew in all about him, he heard soft whisper one last time as what meager light pierced the water's veil from deck lamps..
'So Dramatic.. but we will find her again.. In the end you only delay.. As before you cannot prevent.'
-AR
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Umbra
By _AP_ | March 14, 2015
He moved the lantern closer, dim light casting over dirtied skin, dirtied clothes and dirty hair. His expression soured at the sight and thought perhaps his smelling must be going to, for surely this tattered urchin stunk to the heavens.
"Miss?"
No movement. He cleared his throat.
"Miss, ya'lright there?" he ventured louder though it came more as a froggy croak in his equal effort not to startle her. By the gods he hated when women screamed.
A moment more passed and finally the dirtied girl raised her head with the same sort of expediency one would expect from a groggy school-child roused reluctantly in the early morning. She murmmered something unintelligable, though he thought that perhaps that was his own fault, and her head wobbled back into her folded arms. He looked her over and his frown only deeped. Was she drunk? He didn't smell that either. He gave her a cautious sniff to be sure. No, only the smell of earth and...
His lantern swung closer. What he had thought to simply be the lengths of the matted red hair spidering across her arms and clothing was what appeared to be, and smelled like, blood. He cursed inwardly that perhaps his eyes weren't so keen afterall.
"Aye, girl, hey now, what happened here?" He did his best to project a fatherly sort of tone, but that too came in an awkward throaty croak, sounding more curious than concerned. And really that was the truth of it. How could he not be? He looked her over, what little of her flesh he could see, and for the life of him could not pinpoint a single wound from which that much blood would spring.
She murmmered something again. Damn but if she would just lift her head to speak. He set the lantern down and kneeled into the sticky mud beneath them, calloused hand reaching out to place tentatively on her shoulder. She didn't recoil, and so he pressed onward.
"Hey now, I need'ya to speak up, girl, I'm an old man, ears ain't what they used to be." He wasn't quite sure what he'd do even if he got an answer, but well, he had to start somewhere. Nearest town wasn't too far, if nothing else, he could heft her onto the cart and dump her at the closest inn. Leaving her to the woods was one thing, leaving her to a city where, surely, some altruistic soul might take pity on her, was another. She shifted under his hand and her head raised again, no more quickly than before.
Bright green eyes stood out in startling contrast against the dirty, bloodcaked face that rose to meet his own. He reflexively tumbled back from the surprise of it, his already shameful balance failing him and sending him arse backwards to plop sinking into the sticky mud. He groaned with exasperation and upon opening his eyes after having shut them against the pain of the fall, quickly noticed the lack of the lantern's light. It, and the last dregs of its oil, had been knocked over and decidedly snuffed out. Damn but he'd wished he'd-
And yet, they were not quite as engulfed in the darkness as it had initially seemed. Those green eyes stared over at him, unblinking and unnatural in thier brightness, as if illuminated by some otherwordly light. Had he not been near pissing himself, he might have been fascinated by them. But as it were, he was alone in the dark, arse deep in mud, and faced with what was seeming less and less like a helpless young woman.
It felt like they sat there for eternity, enough time passing that he started to feel awkward, stupid really, sitting and staring as he was. He thought about all the stories he'd tuned half-way out from his wife, all the tales from when he was a boy. What had that thing been called? Wasn't this when the monster lunged at him, tearing him limb from limb? Maybe he was wrong, maybe it was some trick that did that to her eyes.
He worked his tongue nervously over the dried surface of his lips, letting out a weak laugh. He made some self-deprecating excuse as to his fall and attempted to lumber back up and fish about for his lantern. All the while those green eyes watched him, and so he felt the fear creep back into his spine. Did she have to stare like that? He let out a muttering curse as he knocked a knuckle against the lantern's edge, plucking it from the mud forcefully as if it held some burden of blame for his perdicament.
He fiddled with the oil well in the darkness to no avail, frustration prickling his already frayed nerves. Just as he was about to toss the damned thing into the woods, the lantern ignited with a bright and all-too intense flame. He squawked in surprise, nearly dropping the lantern and tumbling back into the mud again. But, only to add to his confusion, something kept him upright and the lantern in his hand.
It was the girl. When had she moved? Damn but she was fast. She stood before him, eyes fixed intently upon the brilliant flame, one hand atop his that grasped the lantern and the other gripping hard under his elbow to prevent his fall. He could do nothing but stare at her though the firelight. Magic. It gave off no heat, no sparks, did not flicker or falter. As sure as fire was hot, it was cold. It was as cold, and as lifeless, as the creature that stood before him.
With the glint of fangs revealed beneath the unnatural light, the word came unbidden from his shaking lips.
"Strigoi..."
At that her gaze flickered away from the aether wreathed about the fuel-less wick and into the eyes of the terrified man. He had been there for some time, of that she was aware, but had paid little head to his presence in earnest. He was too old and her thirst too sated for him to draw her eye, or her ire. But at that word...
"Where did you hear that?"
He was visibly shaking now, her voice seeming to have brought some measure of the reality of the situation to him.
"Wh-what?"
"'Strigoi'" she repeated, affecting an accent she had far from mastered and was, in truth, somewhat still ashamed to attempt. However, she felt it might ease him. "Tell me where you heard that word."
He looked utterly baffled, as if she had asked something more perplexing than the world's greatest minds could riddle out. But his words came soon anyway, they usually did when faced with what many saw as their last moments. What had they to lose? Perhaps in their jabbering, they might spit out something worth more than their life and stay the visit of death for yet another day.
"T-tales! common... common tales!" she wrinkled her nose in disgust, his words punctuated with the slow but thorough wetting of his trousers. Having must thought her unsatisfied, he carried on in a more desperate voice. "The R-Romani! Come 'round, every now and then, tellin' stories!"
She released him with such suddeness that he once again he found himself arse deep in the murk, but by the gods, this time he thankful for it. Sore, but alive, his eyes darted upwards to her, one hand thrusting the still-lit lantern up at her as if a ward against evil. Though she had created it of course, damn but he was stupid sometimes. Though, she merely remained, as still as a gravestone there in all her dirtied, gruesome nature. Her eyes seemed to stare at nothing for what felt like eternity before she spoke again, voice soft, almost shakey. She suddenly seemed very fragile to him, and against his better judgement, a measure of pity welled up above the fear.
"Where... where is he?"
He turned hesitantly to look over his shoulder in the direction of her gaze. Nothing but darkness. Surely she was talking to him? He looked back to her, all confusion and uncertainty with a heaping helping of terror, but still, curious all the same. His brow wrinkled and he parted his lips, more than ashamed at the squeek that eeked out of his throat.
"...h-he?"
Once again she seemed oblivious of him, and once again her voice came in that same demanding, pleading, shaking tone as before.
"Where..."
He cracked his lips to question again but stopped short as something... changed. He wasn't sure at first, but damn what else they said, he had good eyes. And so he saw them. He saw the shadows. And moreover, he saw that they moved.
They swirled, snaked, shifted and turned like a great undualting mass of everything and nothing all at once. It was there in the corners of his eyes, and it was there right in front of him. But the aetherial flame seemed to keep it abated, or did it stay back of itss own wishes? Its own wishes? By the gods, what was he going on about? He shook his head, felt like the damned fog had rolled right in and settled low and creeping in his aching head.
He looked back up to her and she seemed no less confused, no less worried than he did himself. He wondered, could monsters feel? As quickly as the shadows began to move they had stopped again and left nothing but a sort of emptiness about her. Her lips seemed to part as if to attempt another question, but nothing came except that damnable pit of pity in his stomach welling up again.
"Where..." she seemed as if to start again, but her eyes shut tight, opening again with a more resolved look, her voice losing a measure of its shakiness. She looked to him instead and he felt his blood run cold.
"Where is the nearest city?"
He hesitated, biting his tongue. He couldn't set this creature on his family, his friends. Well, a couple he might not mind her visiting, but all the same, best to not. What he did not stop however, was the unintentional flicker of his eyes in the direction of Narrowhaven. And she, bright green gaze upon him, did not miss the gesture.
And without another word, and without a sound, she was gone.
And damned but if he wasn't still stuck arse-deep in the stinking mud.
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Together
By Fadeen | March 14, 2015
Floating as he was he found it odd he could not move.. his mind struggled trying to put form to what had happened, how he had come to be here.. but he couldn't quite recall it seemed to dance at the edge of his consciousness.. At once he felt very alone and so he called out into the darkness, his voice coming soft..
'Sallos..?'
At first his voice simply echoed into the darkness but finally he was answered with the soft sound of laughter coming from the blackness..
'That really was a great trick you know.. I sincerely didn't see it coming.. ' came the answer, the voice comforting, sincere.. the sense of begruding respect seemed to seep through him..
For a long time there was only silence.. he floated in the blackness, enjoying the momentary peace between them, before deciding it couldn't possibly last, and to press further..
'So where are we.. did I.. Did I kill us?'
The laughter came from all around deep and rumbling before words echoed again..
'No.. I'm afraid we are not so easy to kill as that.. But you certainly gave it your best shot.. ' the low chuckling picked up once more ending as the voice spoke again.. 'You forced me to take control.. I've pushed -my- body through.. it should hold you together, for now..'
The long emptiness stretched on again until it was almost a tangible thing, the weight of it pressing him down further into the blackness he found himself linger in.. Finally when he could bear it not longer, his words broke the void once more..
'Sallos.. is she Alright..?'
No laughter greeted this question only further silence and the slow growing malevolence of the other presence within the blackness with him, the slow burning hate that seemed to turn the still waters of his mind into molten boiling metal.. the heat of it seemed to sear at his flesh as finally the answer came echoing out to him from the blackness..
'She does not conern you -Child- not any longer.. She was using you.. To get to -Me-.. but even that is done..'
The scene replayed as he demanded the price of her.. her Oath sworn.. in exchange for his own life...
'Though I must thank you,' came the other voice his tone mocking and filled with contempt, 'I never could have done this.. Without you.'
-AR
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Shadows long past..
By Fadeen | March 13, 2015
Beyond that though, something else nagged at him. Like some rodent chewing at the corner of tapestry rolled in the corner of some forgotten basement, so it was he felt something.. -Something- gnawing at his mind.. His thoughts had dwelt on her since speaking her name.. How many years had passed since it had been spoken aloud? His brother.. How many years since he had spoken that name aloud.. Too many. Enough that he had allowed such times to fade into the distant silent part of his mind.. The part required by all his kind to keep moving.. To not seek their own destruction with the weight of all they had endured over long, countless year.
Still he turned it over, and still worry touched all aspect of it. Would she be able to handle what lay ahead? Would it drive her to madness? Would she rise at all.. removing all concern.. He had seen the one attempt.. witnessed the madness that was the reward for efforts, and then lost all that had mattered to him in answer to his choices.. Would this cost him any less, or would it be yet another page in the book of horrors and mistakes, of long and endless journey wrought only with Sorrows.
So long had it been since thought weighed so heavily, he had all but forgotten the desire to seek council from his elders.. from the one he had come to call 'Sursa' and Father.. And yet in this moment, half of him yet wished he could go to them with present concern, and hear their wisdom.. Their council, some sort of reassurance that all would be well.. Even as his mind turned to it he saw the madness of such thought.. Surely there would have been no offer of reassurance, only condemnation for his mad plan, absent the blessings of the only one able to grant such a gift.. She too would have called it madness.. Would have questioned the worthiness of the girl, of her place in the darkness..
Yet none of them were present.. He was now, and had been for untold years, alone.. What companions he had taken had served short amusement only to be ended or abandoned when such amusement failed.. He had toyed with some.. broken others.. But never given so much as passing thought to what now he set plan to.. None to judge plan.. None to question it, and yet none further to condemn.. In the end, as had always been..
He would stand alone.
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Quinn’s Journal (I)
By Dungeon Master | March 12, 2015
And yet I must live on. And yet I must continue to be eternal. Any yet I must continue to be the one object for which is most despised, but cannot ever outlive the hatred.
And yet I am so made that I cannot care.
My son is born, I ripped the squirming, disgusting, shouting little imp from her lower abdomen, and snuggled him to me. He is but all that remains, and he will also die before I die. He is indelibly stamped with the same repulsive sentence anyone else of his condition is born. He was born mortal, and not made eternal.
She bled to death, and while I may very well have stepped in, why should I? Mortals die all the time, and I am prohibited from interfering in that. My duty is balance. Nature has graced by with the judgment and ability to supersede it. I am eternal, and that is the fact, not the exception.
So my son will grow, as all things grow, and I will watch him die... but I will still teach him in the manner his mother would have taught, and I will be a hypocrite. I will tell him to do all that is good, I will instruct him in the manners of his mothers will, because he deserves that much. I could not possibly teach him in the reason that governs me, he is but mortal, and I am but forever... The finite cannot understand the infinite.
I have never known love before it was spell with the letter "K," but only one "K" may remain. If love may be eternal, so is pain, and I am tormented by the rupture of her tiny abdomen. I am tormented by the gentle eyes that stare still upon me, expecting everything... but doomed to nothing.
There is but one more letter "K" which affords me the eternal luxury of love and pain. And still, too, I have failed her. I have been unable to protect my entire heart, and I am doomed to the misery of my failure, but graced with the eternity to feel the misery. Kairi is engaged, but still mine... always mine. Who could not be mine?
Everything is always mine.
I am the King of All things. I have many pretenders. I am often emulated, but never duplicated.
I am eternity, the beginning and the end. I am the ice before water, and the water before steam, and the steam before water again, and then ice again.
I am the diamond before dust.
I am the light before dusk.
I am the darkness, and the shadow, and I am the source of the shade.
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Shard Update: 3/12/2015
By Vii | March 12, 2015
Explosion potion tile range increase from 2 to 3. Explosions should be damaging players if they are close enough to target.
Edited creature scripts to use special abilities similar to players.
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Sub Rosa
By _AP_ | March 11, 2015
"It calls to me.."
Awareness.
A scream.
It struggled to break the crushing silence that pressed in all around her. When nothing came, her long-still hands flashed to her mouth, searching in an unnaturally animated frenzy for the binding of her voice. Dirt-caked nails dragged at the roots discovered snaking down her throat, like some god's forsaken mockery of the worms that should have otherwise inhabited her lifeless form. She choked and gagged as she pulled what felt like endless lengths of barbed rope from within her body but with the last of it, her cry ripped uncaged into the darkness, carrying with it all the anger, loss, and hunger from countless years passed.
A stillness settled on her with the release, lasting for but a moment before the desperation, and the desire, took to her again. She began to claw at the soil. Piled heavy upon her body, its earth was thickly caked and packed tight with the ever-present press of time. But set before her unabated nature, it mattered little.
The surface quickly broke with the flurry of her hands, fingers tangling with the thick brush sprouting above her resting place. The press of thorns pierced her flesh, drawing a bright crimson against her dirted but otherwise strikingly pale skin. Yet the wounds did little to slow her, sealing closed with a sort of languid effort and only driving her hunger, pressing her onward.
With another cry she ripped herself free of the thicket, sending up a shower of crimson rose petals as she fell to the shattered surface of the earth. In the darkness she lay there, for a time drained of what little energy she had possessed. The echo of her cry had faded into the shadows and the only sound that remained was the pitter-patter of petals that fell soft and gentle about her. Their colour mixed with the dark crimson of her hair, but with the touch of her flesh however, they soon turned black and brittle, leaving little piles of ash marring her porceline skin.
A flash of bright green and her eyes were open. A searing red the colour of sanguine rimmed the irises to circle slowly, inwardly, until all the was left was the bloody brilliance of her Hunger. It was forefront and it was all consuming and her nature would see it quickly sated.
and then...
With a fluid motion she rose before the high moon, tattered dress and tangle of crimson hair drifting about her. Long quieted lips parted to reveal the glint of fangs perched there on a whisper...
"-I- call to you..."
----
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