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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:32:42 GMT -5
OOC Note: I had this posted on the old boards and never got around to posting it here. Figured since I'd worked on it a bit since I'd repost. This is an ongoing project that, at this time...if FAR from complete. It is a telling of Alyssia's youth, after leaving Sosaria and the Rangers of the Heart, when she began the quest to reform her Clan. This story is based off of years of tabletop RP and character history. I figured, as I worked on it...I would share it. *smiles*
My work on it is sporadic at best so don't expect a lot of updates quickly. Hope you guys enjoy it.[/color][/b]
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A wave of tepid water splashed against her face, causing the prone woman to half sit up with a sputtering gasp. She choked and gagged as the stagnant liquid was sucked into her gut and lungs, bits of dirt, wood and other more unmentionable things with it. Rivulets trickled down her pale face as her hair fell in soaked locks before glassy eyes.
As she stared frantically about the room, hand reaching instinctively towards the grip of a hunting knife that somehow evaded her grasp the woman tried to remember where she was. The sudden stench of burnt flesh and hair assaulted her nostrils, causing another choking gag to escape her throat and the hand switched course, reaching up to cover her mouth.
“Wake up. Be quick about it. There's trouble coming.” a dull voice echoed hollowly from a few feet away. The young woman upon the ground turned towards the sound and her confused eyes fell upon the soft outline of someone in the long shadows of the room. Alyssia Kanath recognized the ice blue eyes that gazed coldly towards her half nude form, laying upon the grimy bed. “Get dressed.” Was all the raven haired woman said before turning her gaze out the window at the sudden sound of barking dogs.
Alyssia sat up and fumbled around for her trousers, not finding them anywhere nearby. “Wha's goin' on...” She gasped, shaking her head quickly to regain focus. Her head ached dully and she could still feel the after effects of liberal amounts of alcohol and some unknown drug. It was then her eyes fell upon the body that lay upon the floor.
A young mousy haired man lay curled and twisted upon his side, back arched and watery eyes staring blankly at the opposite wall. His jaw was open in a silent scream and the skin upon his face was blistered and angry red. His fingers were flexed tight, tips curling in agony. Most of the flesh upon his hands was gone, leaving blackened bones. What was left, was also black and dry, flaking off into ash. It extended up his forearms to the elbows. “Shit! Wha' in the hell!?”
“Shh...” The unimpressed voice of her companion reached her ears again as Alyssia stared in horror. “I still can't believe you slept through it to be honest.”
Alyssia started swearing under her breath, jerking her trousers on and rifling about looking for her things. Nearly all of her possessions had been neatly packed into her knapsack in preparation for theft. Bits and pieces of the night began falling back into place as Alyssia remembered. She had been drunk beyond reason, spending some of her newly earned coin on a night of revelry as she and Khandril waited for their companions to arrive in town the next day. The four were headed north but Alyssia and Khandril had gone ahead, saying that they would meet them at the Bear's Den Tavern in New Gaston. Fuzzy images of the man soliciting her for sex, her agreeing without even thinking and the attractive young man giving her the cost's worth. Then....he gave her a drink.... Nothing came to her after that.
Jhadira Martik had convinced Alyssia that the time had come to set out to the ancestral homeland of their Clan. Told the young woman that it was her destiny...their destiny...to find the remnants of their Clan's shattered houses and begin rebuilding it so that they could thrive once again. The concept in itself, at this stage, was beyond Alyssia Kanath's comprehension. She wasn't ready to assume such a mantle of power or control over anything, let alone anyone. Still young and rough around the edges, she lived each day as if it could be her last. It very well could have been at any moment given the way that she ran headlong from one disastrous adventure into another, living life to the fullest.
But the prospect of such challenge caused an overwhelming curiosity to emerge within Alyssia. She told herself that she wasn't going to commit to any such thing as leading some Clan that she had never really even had contact with. But something drew her heart to this quest. Something called out to her blood and like a moth to a flame she wandered ever closer. Zigzagging here and there, skirting around the dancing light until somehow...some way...she would inexorably be drawn too close and be caught up within the burning flames of destiny that would either harden or destroy her soul.
“Havoc...!” She hissed as the sounds of yelling drew closer, men shouting and sound of weapons being drawn, ringing steel bouncing along the cobblestone streets.
Khandril glanced over and nodded her head towards the brilliant broadsword that hung serenely upon the post of the bed. The sentient weapon sat innocently, quietly, as if it had nothing to do with the scene of devastation that lay contorted upon the floor before it. “He tried to steal it.”
A look of realization fell over Alyssia's face as she grabbed up the weapon and glared at it, yanking it off the bed and quickly buckling the sword belt on. “You didn't have to kill him...” She growled down at the blade and a soft blue light pulsed once along the runes carved within the ebony scabbard in answer. But she didn't have time to argue with the artifact now, they had to get out of there.
The young warrior rushed to the window and looked down to the street, where a small contingent of the town guard had gathered. The barkeep and a few patrons were down with them, motioning up to the room with a terrified expression on their faces. “This is the last thing I wanna deal wit'... fuck!”
“They have the back under guard.” Khandril said grimly. “And the stable gate.”
“We can't leave wit'out Thundermane.” Alyssia narrowed her eyes, glaring at nothing in particular.
“I wouldn't expect to.”
They nodded to one another briefly before Alyssia made her way to the door.
Shaking her dark maned head briefly with a cool expression, Khandril followed her friend. Alyssia peeked out into the hallway and glanced to and fro. On the far north end there was a window, half ajar. They could hear the booted feet of the guards as they entered the common room of the inn and made their way to the stairs leading up to the sleeping rooms. The Thunderlord motioned for Khandril to follow and the two women crept along the wall towards their escape route. As the marching boots got closer they realized there wasn't enough time for a quiet, stealthy exit and broke out into a run towards the window. Just as the first men reached the top of the stairs and saw them, Alyssia had thrown the window open and looked out.
Behind her, the hissing sound of Khandril's Katana touched her ears and she glanced over to see her companion had turned to face a force of five armed guards. Luckily for them the hallway was only wide enough to accommodate two of the large ruffians at a time. The sound of clashing steel rang through the upper levels of the inn as the woman spun her weapon, turning aside the downward swing of a short sword before her foot made solid contact with the man's gut. He grunted loudly and staggered backwards before she ducked low and double backed with her blade, drawing it's razor edge upward and across a second man's chest. He looked down in horror as the fine blade sliced through his leather jerkin and into his flesh, leaving a large crimson gash. He fell away, screaming...his dark glimmering eyes wide with pain and fear.
Alyssia looked down out the window to gauge where they were. The stable building was across a small courtyard. The night was clear and the bright moonlight shone down upon the open space. More armed men awaited, casting their looks up to the window as they shouted and alerted a portly man in fine armor to the window above.
“We're gonna 'ave to make a break for the stable!” Alyssia said hurriedly as Havoc's pommel smashed into the forehead of the third guard. He had taken an opportunity to slide around his first two downed companions and aim a swing for the warrior. She had ducked to the side of the blade's arc and swung her fist, the sound of crunching bone accompanying the savage blow. “C'mon!” And with that, the woman leapt through the window.
Khandril took a moment to dispatch the last guard, dropping down into a spin and sweeping his legs out from under him. He landed hard upon the wooden planks, the air stolen from his lungs. Gasping loudly he looked up to see the dark woman hovering over him, sword held above his chest point down. He saw the cold, indifferent look in her eyes and started to beg for his life. His three companions all lay beaten and unconscious around him. They had made sure not to actually kill anyone, though he had no doubt in his mind they could have easily.
Uncaring of his babble, and not even really listening to the pitiful whines and wheezes that rolled out from beneath. She made a quick thrusting motion and the blade slammed down beside the man's head, it's edge sliding though the wood as If it were no more than soft cheese on a breakfast plate. He sucked in his breath as she leaned down and flashed a set of perfect fangs that glinted in the dim light of the hall. Khandril hissed at him, more for her own amusement than any show...and he promptly passed out cold.
She smirked and with the speed of a jungle cat, dove out the window after Alyssia.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:33:16 GMT -5
Alyssia rolled down the wooden awning, shingles breaking loose and tumbling with her. Off the overhang she fell, tucking her body and rolling herself to a position where she would land on her feet. Her boots hit the hard packed earth below as she landed in a crouch. Instantly, her eyes flashed upward to see six men moving to surround her. Flashing a lopsided grin to them, she nodded a greeting and announced, “Ey' there boys, anyone up fer a toss?”
They paused briefly, slightly stunned at the remark, causing the young woman to laugh huskily in amusement. This broke the spell and the man directly before her tore into a lunge, sword arcing down at the still crouching woman.
The warrior kept low and propelled herself forward, barreling into the man's midsection. He gave a loud grunt as they collided and then she lifted with all her might, using the kinetic energy and adrenaline that pumped through her veins, she flipped him upward head over heels into a nearby bale of hay. “Seems he took my offer!”, she laughed before spinning on her heel and withdrawing Havoc from it's scabbard. The silvery blade slid out easily, it's length flaring to life as an azure glow ran down the magical steel. The ringing of blades sounded as Havoc clashed against a second guard's weapon, blue and white sparks raining down with each strike of metal on metal. The showers confused the men and made them wary...so they kept a distance between themselves and their prey. “Tha's righ' boys...bad juju...best jus' let me an' my companion leave, eh?”
She started to sidestep warily, holding the blade out before her and hoping that their hesitation might last until she could get into a better position. She had to get Thundermane out of the stable. Alyssia Kanath refused to leave without her loyal and beloved war horse. She could hear him off to her far right. Almost feel his frustration as he was blocked in by the stable gate. Two more guards looked nervously at the large midnight black steed, his snow white mane flipping this way and that as he flicked his head in agitation. He hoofed at the ground nervously, watching as his mistress was threatened by the guards. But he was trained well. He made no move of aggression until he heard her command. Thundermane waited as patiently as he could, trusting her to either release him, or order him to release himself.
But the odds weren't looking too good for Alyssia. She was suffering a hangover, a migraine, and was still confused as to exactly what had happened. And suddenly, she found herself in a fight for her life against six men who had decided that their commander's punishment was worse than a sword that spit sparks...
Just then Khandril shot out of the window, bypassing the awning entirely as her body sailed effortlessly through the air. She landed on her hands, body instantly curling upon itself as she rolled to her feet. With cat like grace she stood and twisted her body towards the men before her. As she moved, her hand went up to the grip of her Katana as it slid free from the scabbard across her back.
The men all spun, save one who kept his eyes transfixed on Alyssia. He was young and she could see the fear and eagerness in his eyes. His chest heaved and he gasped for air, the excitement of the moment almost too much to bear. Alyssia waited for two things...
And they happened together simultaneously.
Khandril lunged towards the guards and the man lunged for Alyssia.
He brought his wide and somewhat crude sword up and attempted to strike her arm, not realizing that the smaller woman was an expert at evasion. His untrained swipe was easily avoided as she spun to the side. He changed his blade's course and awkwardly tried to follow her with his weapon. Alyssia brought Havoc to bear and blocked the blow before spinning again. The elegant broadsword sliced through the air as she spun and arced upward, cutting through his armor and slicing deeply into his back. The lad screamed and dropped to his knees where the Thunderlord's sword pommel smashed into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Aly kind of liked that move...though it had the bad tendency to kill people by accident.
The sound of clashing blades echoed around the stable yard. Khandril spun and parried with inhuman speed, her form actually blurring as it gracefully twisted and danced around the desperate men. Alyssia lunged towards the fray, Havoc glinting wickedly in the moonlight as it swung through the air. The warrior was beyond caring whether these poor men lived or died. Their commander should have called them to regroup but he had obviously disappeared as the melee started. The magical blade whistled in an arc, cleanly slicing the head off of the first guard she reached. His head fell to the earth and bounced about ten feet away. The two guards at the stable gate just stared slack jawed at it as it came to rest not far from their feet. His body instantly dropped to the ground with nary a sound.
She hadn't stopped there. A loud growl reverberated from within the woman's chest as she ducked an incoming blow from a crudely spiked mace. Her movements never stopped or slowed as Havoc turned and slammed into his chest, the blade piercing armor, flesh and bone. His eyes widened in shock, blood dribbling down his chin. Another snarl from the now angry woman as she twisted the blade within his chest and shoved upward before tearing it out. The man's entrails spilled from his gut onto the ground, and with it flowed a river of crimson blood. He too fell to the earth, never to move again.
Khandril realized that the initial idea of not killing anyone was now null and void given her companion's quick shift in mood. Her Katana slid between one guard's ribcage and then out noiselessly. He clutched his side and stumbled aside, opening up an avenue for another to charge the lithe woman. Khandril held her hand up, palm facing towards the man. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the woman before him. She locked eyes with him and he began to shake, limbs going limp. As if an invisible hand pushed him to the ground, he dropped to his knees as weapons fell to the ground. Holding up his hands to her in a pleading gesture, the sudden terrible fear within his eyes screamed compliance. He began to sob, covering his head with his hands and rocking back and forth. The dark woman smiled very slightly and looked up to find Alyssia. She was engaged in a fast fight with the other two guards.
Just then...ten more men burst into the courtyard.
“Alyssia!” Khandril shouted, trying to overcome the din of clashing steel.
Aly looked up just briefly before blocking a side swipe. “Shit! We don' 'ave time for this...!” Her boot slammed into the first man's gut before hiking upward and snapping his head back. As he fell to the ground unconscious the last one just dropped his weapon and began pleading for his life. “We need a distraction!” She yelled in a sing song voice to her companion. Khandril just nodded knowingly and slipped a hand into her pocket. She withdrew a small egg shaped stone. It was dark and polished smooth. Within it was carved a vision...of a great steed galloping from the mists.
The woman tossed the stone to the ground and spoke sharply in her own people's tongue, “Omen, почути мій заклик і прийти до мене. Я потрібна ваша швидкість мого друга.”
Alyssia had no idea what she said, but as the stone rolled upon the ground a dark mist began rising and swirling from the object. The new arrivals pressed themselves back against a wall as they watched the spectacular display. Quickly, a whirlwind of dark mist swirled upward and out from it jumped a magnificent unicorn the color of midnight itself. The shadowy creature hoofed the ground and tossed his head back. “Omen!”, Khandril called to her trusted ally, “Keep them busy!”
As she did, Alyssia sheathed her sword and slid her pinky fingers into her mouth, letting out a loud shrill elongated whistle.
The stables shook and rumbled, the wood creaking and thatch falling from it's roof. The doors to Thundermane's pen shuddered as the two men stationed there tried desperately to hold them shut. There was a brief pause and rustling before the doors suddenly exploded open, the war horse having turned and used his hind legs to shatter the wood in a devastating kick. Both men cried out and scrambled back, one of them severely wounded by the flying shards. The large stallion turned and barreled out of the stables...heading straight for the newest contingent of guards.
Those ten men looked right and saw the dark spirit steed walking slowly towards them with purpose in his white eyes.
Then they looked left as a huge black stallion, snow white mane whipping in the night breeze as he galloped, headed straight for them. His speed and power threatening to crash into their bodies and fling them like a child's rag doll.
They dropped their weapons, turned...and ran back out screaming.
“Ahahahahaha! Didja see tha'!? Cowards!” Alyssia laughed hysterically, clutching her side with one hand and pointing with the other. “Thundermane to me!”
The horse did as he was ordered without ever slowing his motions. He turned and ran straight towards his Mistress. “Let's get the hell outta 'ere before they bring in the entire guard.” She said as Thundermane galloped past. Alyssia grabbed his mane and was taken with him, hoisting herself upon the saddle without ever slowing.
“Jhadira and Victor are camped out the gate and down the main road!” Khandril shouted as she too mounted her steed. She leaned down and placed her forehead against his mane, murmuring. “Thank you my friend....”
”I am here to serve, my child....” the unicorn whispered into her mind. And with that, he exploded into full gallop...faster than the huge, heavily muscled Thundermane by far. It was only a moment before Khandril and Omen caught up to Alyssia and her steed. The two galloped through the town's cobblestone streets, ignoring guards and locals alike. The sight was just too bizarre for most, and they were left to their flight.
Just ahead they saw the gates. A handful of guards were shouting to one another and trying to close the huge heavy wooden doors. “Oh hell no....” the young Thunderlord growled as she urged her mount to push all his physical limits. The door slowly swung inward but they never stopped. Thundermane crashed through the narrow opening of the gates sending splinters flying in all directions.
They were home free....or so they thought.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:34:31 GMT -5
They had just awoken from a long night's rest. A young man squatted by the fire, poking at it with a stick. He rubbed his chestnut beard, trying to shake off the last bits of sleep. Five feet away and leaning against a tree, sat a petite woman. A long, simple Grey robe adorned her small frame. Tied around her waist was a silken sash of deep magenta hue. Eyes closed and hands together, she was lost in her morning prayers.
Just then, their horses became restless. Victor Draken stood and walked to his gelding, hand sliding lightly over the horse's nose. “Easy there boy, what's the matter?” As he tried to soothe the mahogany gelding, Jhadira's smaller mount Skye flicked her Grey ears about in agitation, shifting and hoofing the ground. “The horses are agitated....” He said to his young wife, frowning curiously.
Jhadira was too lost in her meditation to hear him.
Just then as the sun crested over the horizon, the faint rumble of galloping hooves caused Victor to quickly snap his gaze to the nearby road. Out of a cloud of dust, off in the distance he could see two riders. But it was their mounts that clued Victor in to who they were. They were all he could see.
“Jhadira...” He quickly ran to the camp and started stuffing things into their packs.
“Hmm?” The woman uttered softly.
“Jhadira we have to go...!” Victor frantically began rolling their beds up and tying them.
Jhadira Martik huffed a few strands of golden hair from before her face and opened one eye. She squinted at Victor. “Go? Why?”
“They're coming! And they're coming in fast! It looks like they might be on the run!” Victor threw the saddle packs over the now excited horses. He began untying their reigns from a nearby branch. “Come on!”
Jhadira's eyes widened, “Oh my! Oh...where's my staff!?” She hopped up like a scampering squirrel and zigzagged around the camp site searching for her holy relic.
“Come on!”
By this time Alyssia and Khandril were thundering near. Alyssia called out to her companion, “There they are! Don' stop! They'll follow!”
Khandril nodded and leaned forward slightly, urging Omen faster.
Just as the two women flew by, Victor and Jhadira were just getting mounted. They urged their horses into a full gallop and followed after their two party members. The four left a cloud of dust upon the road leading back to town. Not to mention some angry authorities.
And worst of all, an enemy they never even knew existed.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:35:25 GMT -5
The horses thundered down the road for over two hours, hoping to evade any pursuit. When the road diverged they took the less trodden path, eventually finding a small clearing far enough away from the road that they could stop and allow the horses to rest. By this time, it was mid morning and the sun was already nearly halfway to it's zenith and long before had Khandril's struggle to stay awake been lost. As she had collapsed upon Omen's broad back...Alyssia had ridden up beside her and quickly thrown her midnight hued cloak over the unconscious vampire to shield her from the sun's burning light. Only briefly then did they pause to secure the woman's limp, cold body to her Mount's back with hastily attached rope before they had continued on.
But now the horses had stopped, great barrel chests heaving and nostrils flaring with the effort of their long flight. Immediately Alyssia jumped from her Stallion's saddle and rush over to her friend, cutting the ties and pulling her gently into her arms only seconds before an exhausted Omen faded from existence with a whirl of wispy shadowed smoke to return to the Astral plane and rest. The Thunderlord turned, and moved to carry Khandril over to a large bush that held heavy foliage.
Victor moved to assist her, “Here...I can...”
“I got it...!” Alyssia snapped, sounding harsh even in her ears. The tall man's eyes widened then narrowed angrily before he held his hands up in defeat. His wife moved up beside him and lay a gentle hand upon the Paladin's shoulder in effort to console the sting.
The warrior gently lay her companion down upon the earth before moving to the bush and drawing her sword. She began lashing against it's base with her weapon, making a small and dark alcove to hide Khandril's body. After a few moments, she gingerly slipped the cloak covered bundle underneath before rushing over to Thundermane and grabbing one of her blankets.
The other two watched quietly as their companion hustled to ensure the Vampire's safety. Victor held a grim countenance upon his ruddy face. It was bad enough that he was stuck traveling with Alyssia Kanath, the very woman who had murdered his parents when he was but a child. Jhadira had taught him forgiveness...and love and the man struggled with it every day. He had followed his father's footsteps and become a Paladin of the Holy Order. Vowed vengeance upon the young, dark General that had destroyed his community and his life. But when he had found the Ranger that day before he had met his future wife and changed his ways, it was not the woman that he had once known that stood before him. She seemed somehow smaller, less a presence of all consuming insanity and Evil. Not the same woman who had filled her mother's body with arrows as she lay strapped to a rack and begging for her life. Not the same woman who had laughed with the sport of watching her die. Not the same woman who had ordered his father drawn and quartered on that dark day when he was but ten years old. Not the same evil that had given the boy a note to take to his father's troops, informing them of their commander's folly and subsequent death. Victor had hunted Alyssia Kanath as an assassin. But instead, due to love, had become one of her defenders.
No, this woman was not those things. Jhadira had explained to him in pained tones about how the Sosarian Guardian had invaded the woman's mind. Forced her to become an instrument of his evil. Tried desperately to see that Alyssia Kanath grieved for her crimes against those who were undeserving of her wrath. And though she was still a killer, and a drunk, and certainly not up to the task that his new wife's faith assured her of...He would try and bury his rage and learn the truth behind their intertwined pasts. He had found, most the time, Alyssia to be bright, adventurous and full of surprises. And most of all...unlike the demon riddled psychopath he had known as a lad, kind to those of lesser means. To those who were innocent and downtrodden. Like some sort of path to redemption, the woman took pity and more than a bit of joy in helping those who were in need. And destroying those who would enact such abuses.
But the addition of a Vampire, the very abomination of everything that he believed, sometimes was too much to bear. Khandril and Victor did not get along, that much was certain. A host of snide remarks passed between them often and it was only the fear of Alyssia's vengeance and the soothing words of Jhadira that stayed his blade on numerous occasions. Despite his worry that the vampire would betray them at some point, he saw her absolute loyalty to the Thunderlord. When Khandril looked at Alyssia, often, the cold detachment of her countenance suddenly softened and became respectful...trusting. Something that he had never seen her do with anyone else. There was a connection between the two women that he could not understand. He knew they were not lovers, which surprised him to some degree as both were beautiful and he knew Alyssia's appetite for both sexes. But their relationship held something deeper. A sisterhood that he would never quite be able to grasp.
Quietly, Jhadira strode over to Alyssia as the woman finished covering the brush with the blanket. The makeshift tent ensured that as little sunlight as possible would filter down to the precious bundle below. “Arbiter...” The young woman said gently, placing a steadying hand upon her friend. “You are wounded.”
Alyssia's blank gaze snapped to Jhadira's gentle, smiling face. In those eyes, she found a measure of soothing and her body relaxed. “I...hadn't noticed...” With those words, her eyes flicked down to her upper arm where a gash had been cut into her shirt and flesh. During the ride it had bled considerably, which probably explained why the warrior was feeling so tired and woozy.
“Let me take care of you...” The young priestess smiled again and directed Alyssia to sit upon a broken log near the edge of the clearing. Alyssia nodded and mutely allowed herself to be led, too tired to argue. Setting her staff aside, Jhadira placed her hands upon her Arbiter's arm and closed her eyes. Whispering a quiet prayer to her Goddess, she infused the Warrior with a minor healing spell...sealing the gash and leaving it mostly healed, save a thin pink scar line. Jhadira was careful not to use her more powerful magics just in case they would be needed later on.
“Thank you Jha.” Alyssia murmured quietly.
“What happened back there?” Victor asked, drawing his Great sword from it's scabbard upon his back and laying it against a nearby tree. Why did we just spend hours running from ...nothing?”
“I wasn't so sure it was nothin'.” Alyssia sighed, “There was trouble back in town. For all I know they got people after us.”
Jhadira and Victor exchanged a brief look, then their gazes fell questioningly upon their leader.
Aly sighed and began explaining everything that had happened up until the point where they had met upon the road.
By the end of the tale, Victor's brow had furrowed in disapproval.
Jhadira, for her part, listened patiently and even with a bit of awe at the excitement. Though true and good of heart, she was very forgiving when it came to Alyssia's often questionable exploits. No matter how many times this woman who she called Arbiter, and friend, tended to get herself into trouble...the Goddess' vision remained true. One day, this woman would lead their Clan to greatness once again.
One day...
Not today...
“I need a drink....” And with that, Alyssia rummaged around in her packs for one of her many stashed flasks.
Victor and Jhadira turned to one another, speaking in hushed tones. “I don't like this.” The man remarked sourly, glancing between the corpse that lay serenely beneath the bushes and the tired, agitated woman to his right.
“It is...an unfortunate situation...” The priestess said quietly, chewing upon her lip as sky hued eyes widened slightly.
“We have to get to Pauldo in two days. The trip is three. Maybe more if she keeps insisting we move at night. Not to mention now there may be some posse after us.”
Sighing, Jhadira looked at her husband patiently. “We must, otherwise it would be a difficult burden to move Kha...”
“Yes...a terrible burden.” He growled, cutting her off sharply. “It's ridiculous. They can't expect us to keep this up.”
“Victor...” The young woman said softly, placing her warm palm against his bearded cheek. “It is not up to us to choose the Arbiter's friends. For she has been a part of the Arbiter's life long before ...”
He swatted her hand away, suddenly becoming angry, “No...she hasn't. Not before me anyway.”
The hurt of his action showed plainly within the shorter woman's eyes as she looked down. “Do not let your anger poison your soul, my love.” Her soft voice was pained.
“The only thing poisoning me...or our mission...is that leech.” He hissed through clenched teeth. She's slowing us down....”
“She's saved your life more than once upon our journey.” A spark of defiance entered Jhadira's eyes, the blue orbs flashing briefly with a sparking violet energy that reminded Victor that she was no simple cleric. But a Thunderlord Questor. And despite her young age, all their young ages...the newest elder of House Martik. Despite her short stature, a powerful aura of both divine and inherent arcane magics ever swirled about the small golden haired woman that stood before him. “And she struggles with her own horrors...as do you. You would do well to show compassion.”
Victor winced slightly as the steel shod heel of the Staff of Zephyr impacted with the hard packed earth in effort to drive home her point.
Just then, they heard Alyssia make a strangled and half coherent exclamation. Both sets of eyes quickly fell upon the angered woman as she sat in the middle of a mess of traveling gear. She had emptied her entire pack upon the ground and was rummaging through her belongings in agitation. “Where is it!? I swear I didn't leave it there! Tha's the sixth flask I's lost this week! Dammit!”
Victor's grim face suddenly split into an amused grin as he covered his mouth, whispering sidelong to his equally entertained wife. “What'd you do with this one?”
A soft giggle escaped Jhadira's lips as she whispered back, blue eyes dancing with mischief. “I buried it.”
His eyes widened.
Jhadira nodded with a big grin
Alyssia put her head in her hands, cursing.
Khandril rested peacefully in the cool, comforting embrace of death.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:35:50 GMT -5
The cool night air drifted around the riders as they approached the gates of Three Rivers. It was a farming community that also acted as a major way-point for river traffic moving north east. The town itself was nestled comfortably between a split in the waterway, dead center between the flowing waters. Two long bridges placed upon either side of the small island were the only entrances available for foot traffic.
The horses hooves thumped and plodded along the narrow avenue, causing the wooden planks to vibrate beneath them. Alyssia, glanced briefly to either side, entertaining the thought that perhaps some desperately needed upkeep was in order for the bridge as it creaked and shuddered beneath the weight of their mounts.
The other two people with her seemed relatively unconcerned. Jhadira's curious smile just gazed around, blue eyes taking in the beautiful scenery as the moon's silver radiance touched the water below. The light danced upon the surface, causing ripples to shimmer along the ever moving current A gentle gust of chilled air flew past them and the dance increased to a wild vibration that seemed to move in time with nature itself.
Victor pulled his deep crimson cloak about his broad shoulders more tightly, muttering about the recent change in weather.
“Slow, yeh! Who r' ya an' wha' bid'ness ya gots wit'n the town o' the Rivers?” A deep, growling voice rumbled through the night towards them. He was tall and thickly built, dark brown curls poking out from beneath his open faced helm. Dressed in what looked to be the uniform of the local guard, his deep set eyes glimmered up at them suspiciously. Two other men who were leaning against the large wooden gate, pushed themselves to attention and placed roughened hands upon their sword hilts.
Alyssia's heels gently nudged against Thundermane's broad sides and he carried her forward and ahead of her two companions. As she came into the torchlight, a sultry and all too harmless smile touched her face. Had the other two seen it, they would have instantly recognized it as a lie. A mask. A masterfully crafted facade that Alyssia had created to not only protect her from the terrors of the world but to allow her to move easily within those terrors without raising suspicions. “Ello an' well met good men o' Three Rivers! My companions an' I are 'eaded south ta' visit some ol' friends but the road is long an' I fear night reached us b'fore we could find a good place to camp. We made haste ta' town hopin' tha' there may be an inn open so we could sleep in a nice soft bed for once instead o' the cold ground.” For emphasis she pulled her dark cloak about her shoulders tightly, shivering all too noticably in order to accessorize her words. “We were hopin' to get there b'fore the autumn weather hit but...” She laughed, a husky musical sound as she shook her head. “Guess we were wrong!”
Her quick smile, light demeanor and talkativeness instantly put the two younger guards at ease. One grinned up at her, liquid eyes the color of summer skies gazed at the woman. He was young and handsome, strong of body but probably not so much of mind. He had a simple charm that most likely made him quite popular among the local ladies and he seemed proud of that fact. “It's certainly too cold for a couple of beautiful women to be out wandering around in the wilds.”
The second guard, who looked slightly older, moved his gaze with some trouble past the glimmering emerald eyes that held his fellow transfixed. He looked Jhadira and Victor over closely. “Can't be too dangerous, they look like they got a guard. In mighty pretty armor no less. You two ladies noblewomen?” Honest curiosity tinged his words.
Victor, for his part, stared down at the men with a slightly sullen look about him. Suddenly he realized that his position had been relegated from husband to lowly guard. Before he could speak, Alyssia broke in...stealing the man's gaze away. “Noblewomen we's nae, jus' travelers. But aye we brought along some protection. Smart thing to do don't ya think?” She shined a disarming smile at him, causing him to relax and return the look.
“Shut up, bot' o' ye!” Their commanding officer barked, forcing the two men to duck back and mumble apologies as they retook their positions. He squinted up at the three, eyes wary. “Where you headed?”
Alyssia chuckled and leaned over the pommel of her saddle, arms folding slowly as she grinned down into the face of all those years of mistrust. “Duskview. We 'ave family there. My friend 'ere is getting' married!” She made a sweeping gesture to Jhadira who's blue eyes widened just slightly before she cleared her throat and made an impressive attempt at blushing demurely.
His gaze shifted quickly to the priestess, and then to Victor as he noticed the man tense visibly. “Yeh?”
Jhadira's soft, shy voice answered, “Y..yes. My...betrothed is there already waiting for me.” She almost stammered but not quite, but it was enough to make Alyssia hope she didn't get too talkative.
“Wha' bout' ya lad?”
“I was hired to protect them upon their journey.”
The guard's gaze fell to the weapons at Alyssia's belt, and lower to the huge warhorse that stood proud beneath her. “Don't look like this un' needs much 'elp.”
The Thunderlord laughed again, a lighter and almost embarrassed sound as she leaned even lower and whispered conspiratorially to the guard. But not low enough so that the others couldn't hear. “The roads are dangerous. Only a fool travels unprotected. I try to keep my fool days down to one or so a week.” Another grin, charming and mischievous, finally began breaking through the man's walls and he let out a rough chuckle.
“Oh c'mon Rurik! Let them in! It's cold out here!” The first young man laughed at the other, slapping him on the back roughly. “They're harmless, aren't ya little lady?”
Alyssia tensed slightly, those warm green eyes going briefly cold. She hated it when men called her things like that. But the look did not last long enough for the dull witted lad to notice. He just kept grinning up at her with obvious attraction written all over his face plain for the world to see. The smile returned as she winked at him playfully, the curve of her lips making promises that she would never keep. “As a kitten....” The words came out in a husky liquid purr.
The lead guard looked them all over once more. Then, behind them and in the flickering shadows cast by the torchlight, something moved. Quickly, Alyssia focused their attention upon her again and sat up quickly in her saddle, taking up her reigns. “So boys? You gonna let us ladies in so we kin' get some sleep before we gotta start out again tomorrow? Or should we lay our bedrolls right here on the bridge?” She said with a little laugh, good humor written all over her face.
“Well.... Fine. Jus' don' cause an-eh trouble 'ere or I'll string tha' lot o' ye up personal like.”
“Don't mind him,” The second guard chuckled, “He's had a bad day.”
The younger one nodded, grinning up at Alyssia. “Yeah...” Then mouthed the words “Wife troubles.” To the warrior, causing her to grin at him and give a I won't tell! look.
The gates opened, moving inward and swinging heavily up their hinges. The three horses began plodding along and through as the two younger guards tipped their helms to the ladies. The older one had turned back towards the bridge, scowling as if his mind was suddenly taken up by more important things.
As they moved into the town of Three-Rivers, and below the notice of the three men guarding the gates, the shadows moved with them.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:36:57 GMT -5
The neatly kept cobblestone streets of Three rivers caused the sound of the horse's hooves to echo dully. No sounds other than a chorus of crickets beat in time to the clicking staccato as they meandered through the empty avenues.
Jhadira rode up beside Alyssia and said softly, “It's awful quiet.” As her eyes darted around curiously at the darkened alleys and homes that lined their way.
“It's late and a sleepy town. I suspect there's nae much activity other than at the docks.”
Victor rode along quietly and with a grim set to his jaw behind, saying nothing.
It was not an inn that they made their way to. Vague directions sent them searching the back streets for a small church. The place where they were supposed to meet their companion Pauldo who had been doing research on the local history of the area. The priests had kindly offered the sage access to their archives.
A half hour of searching finally brought them before the large iron gates. The church grounds were dotted with old but tidily kept grave markers. A damp mist swirled about the stones, caressing them with cool icy fingers. A lover's touch before a gust of autumn wind would rise and scatter the smoke like vapors to it's bidding.
As Alyssia dismounted, she felt a coolness upon her back that caused an involuntary shiver. And then the husky whisper of Khandril's voice filled her ears. Jhadira and Victor jumped slightly, startled at the dark woman's sudden appearance from the shadows behind them.
“The dead are content in this place. But I hear them...feel them, just below the earth.” Her voice had taken on a distant tone, almost empty as her typically cool gaze began to burn with some mysterious call.
Khandril Frostryn had been raised to take her mother's place as her Clan's High Shaman and wise woman. A rugged tribe of barbarians hailing from the far northern icy tundras, they were a fierce and mystical people who relied heavily on the death magic that their Shamans called into battle. Where many religions would take into their beliefs powers of absolute light or darkness, her clan cared nothing for such struggles. Their ends were their own and long ago had they tied themselves only to death and glory in battle. Death, in itself was not good nor evil. Death was a natural part of the circle of life and though many would believe that communication and control over the dead to be a dark and wicked thing, to Khandril was just natural talent. Gifts that she had not lost during her embrace.
Many would assume that her powers over death were given to her by turning. That the shadows that had embraced the woman on that dark day offered her such gifts. But these were things that ran through her blood long before. The necromantic training and fascination with all aspects of death and undeath was just as much a part of Khandril as her own personal tragic darkness. Ever since the day as a very young child when she had watched her mother call to the bodies of the dead that had been scattered upon the field of battle. Ever since she had watched them answer her mother's power and rise slowly from their contorted poses upon the ground. Saw the fierceness in their pale faces as they clashed headlong into their own Clan , defending with sudden ferocity those who just before had been their enemies.
And the dead called to her. A low thrumming vibration that, though many would suspect to be cold and vacant, truly to her was cool and inviting. There is energy in death. And though the souls in this place had long since flown...their bodies were there and the innate magics of unlife flowed around the woman and cried out softly for her attention. She stood there, eyes closed and head tilted back slightly as onyx hair billowed about her pale features. An uncharacteristic soft smile touched her lips.
Jhadira and Victor shivered again, not from cold this time. He growled, “Stop that.”
Khandril ignored him.
Alyssia could feel the magic thrumming through the air, but not quite as strongly as Jhadira and Victor. Their powers were more holy and hers were only the raw energy of elemental power. But it was not the calling of the dead that worried her. It was Victor.
The armored man slid from his horse and began stalking towards Khandril, “I said, stop it. Leave them alone! They rest in peace!”
Alyssia tried to intervene but Victor's rage had born him fast and he was upon the Vampire before she could reach them. His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed, giving a shake.
“Victor!” Jhadira cried out and slid off her own mount, rushing to his arm and pulling.
Alyssia had just frozen, eyes flaring as she watched quietly. Silent anger caused her body to tremble as her own power began leaking outward. The Static aura about her tense form began to billow forth, raising the hairs upon Victor's flesh. But he ignored it. He was not magically inclined and could only feel with physical sensation what any with talent or training in more metaphysical things would be nearly suffocated by.
Jhadira swooned, gasping softly and flicking her gaze to her Arbiter.
“Khandril...” A low warning growl from Alyssia touched their ears. A commanding tone that aided and heightened by her bloodline's innate magics, none of her Clan could deny.
But Khandril was not of her Clan.
Khandril's pale eyes flickered open as she stood there, his hand wrapped around her throat in a grip that would cause any living being to gasp and choke as they clutched frantically upon the hand that held them fast.
The woman only smiled slowly at him without struggling. She needed no air to breathe and the twisted look served to remind him of that fact. And then she said it, the one thing that Alyssia was hoping Khandril would have more wisdom than to say.
“Does your father rest peacefully?” Her voice had gone low. A tone he had never before heard flowing outward from between her lips. It flowed thick like honey from her tongue and he could almost taste the sweetness as it spread outward and wrapped about him like a soothing blanket of warmth. He wanted to fall within it's comforting embrace and huddle like a contented child. An almost seductive sound, a low growling purr from her chest as she leaned closer to him with a strength that he could not hold back.
His eyes widened.
When her face was near touching his, crimson lips curved again into a feral grin that he had never before seen from the woman. Her fangs glinted wickedly in the moonlight as she made no attempt to hide them. Eyes like pale, glittering ice took on an almost wild look. “I can ask him for you.....” She said softly, her eyes locking on to his.
Victor's brown eyes glazed over just briefly and his grip slackened. But burning behind them was an anger that Khandril had never before felt. She had struck a nerve but her voice and gaze artificially soothed it. He almost stumbled. But then the Paladin came to himself, shaking and shuddering like a dog who had just crawled from the water. Suddenly he howled, a sound born of rage and heartache like holy fire was thrown to the winds and echoed around the peaceful graveyard.
“Victor, NO!” Jhadira's voice came from far away and then the sound of his blade scraping it's way from the sheath that held it's divine flame. He threw Khandril powerfully away from him and she allowed it, falling back and laughing madly.
Even Alyssia's eyebrows shot up in surprise, temporarily dampening her own anger at the confrontation. Rarely if ever did Khandril laugh. And even more rarely had Alyssia heard Khandril laugh in such a wicked, terrifying way.
“Witch! Leech! You shall not be-spell me with your evil powers!”
And it had been exactly what Khandril had done. The very same thing she did to her prey. Enscorcle them with her eyes and voice to ease their fear so they would allow her to feed upon their life blood.
Many things happened at once.
Victor lunged for the cackling vampire.
Alyssia silently summoned her magics as tendrils of azure electricity snaked down her arms and legs. She flung her hand out in preparation to throw that energy in his direction. Whether it was to stun or kill, she still had not decided.
Jhadira shrieked and began to chant a prayer, holding her arms upward as her own power swelled over them. A desperate tranquility struggled as she tried to calm the minds of those around her.
And then, two heavily muscled dark shadows slammed into Victor mid lunge with a duo of snarling roars.
The sudden change shocked everyone, the two woman's powers quickly getting sucked inward before they could be loosed. They struggled in that instant with control, not wishing to do anything rash before seeing what this new threat was. They fought to reign in all that raw magic and holy light.
A brief moment of silence fell over them like an obscuring cloak. And then, Victor's voice came muffled, and though still tinged with anger, more confused than anything. “Get them off of me!”
They all stared, even Khandril who's dark mirth had subsided leaving her blinking and confused as well. She had let the call of death overpower her senses and a sudden bitter anger tinged her gaze. But when her eyes fell upon what had become of poor Victor...it too faded and turned to stunned silence.
The large man was being pinned down and sat upon by two huge panthers. Two great cats that all recognized as Pauldo's traveling companions, friends and physical protection. The larger male, Argus sat upon his lower legs comfortably and gazed around with a complacent look. Riah, who was smaller and more a shade of smokey Grey stood with her great paws pinning his shoulders and heavy head licking his rough unshaven cheek in greeting. The look in the panther's eyes could be interpreted as, ”I'll calm you down if I have to lick you into submission!”
Jhadira walked over to Alyssia, and put her hand upon the warrior's arm gently to steady herself. Blue eyes met green as the two women gave a great sigh of relief. Alyssia chuckled and hugged her in a soothing gesture. And then, Pauldo Argorn's curious and excitable voice reached their ears.
“Arbiter! It is so good to see you! All of you! I had not expected you at such a late...or well...early hour.” A young man dressed in ankle length brown robes opened the heavy gate and rushed outward towards them, almost stumbling upon the hem of his attire. His long black hair had been tied into a pony tail and an innocent, elated grin played upon his lips. A short black goatee and mustache framed those lips perfectly and upon his nose sat a pair of spectacles that were slightly crooked upon his face. Tied about his waist was a crimson sash that even in the dark glimmered and moved with him as if an unseen wind carried it. Other than color and the image stitched in dark thread upon it's tassel, it was an exact imitation of the sashes that Alyssia and Jhadira wore.
The two women moved to give their friend a hug of greeting, both grinning fondly at the bumbling and slightly clumsy sage as he once again stumbled into their arms. “Alright you two, let Sir Draken up. I think he's adequately subdued.” Everyone chuckled except Victor and Khandril.
The two panthers let the slightly embarrassed man up and moved then to Alyssia and Jhadira. Both women got promptly pounced. As the cats wrapped their massive front paws around the warrior and priestess, a chorus if squeals and giggles followed as they were mauled lovingly in greeting.
“Oh hello Khandril!” Pauldo's bright smile fell upon the dour Vampire as she stood off to the side, hugging herself and shivering in the dark. Her sour look and stiff stance did nothing to cool the chipper greeting in his voice. “Oh I suppose you can't come in to the church...” His face fell a bit in disappointment. “It is holy ground...”
Her whispered words carried along the night air, sullen and depressed. “Inside the church I would not, but no graveyard however blessed hinders my steps.” The thick tinge of harsh north land accent wrapped about her words, showing her displeasure with herself.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
It was broken by Pauldo's curious voice, “Oh? Really? How does that work? Really you must tell me...”
Khandril wrinkled her nose at the prospect of explaining it to the overly enthusiastic scholar.
Aly cleared her throat gently and said, “Pauldo, we's gonna get an inn room. Are you gonna be ready to leave by tomorrow?”
“Oh! Well yes I suppose. I haven't finished a few of my translations yet...” He trailed off, legitimately disappointed. “But I will gather my things and be ready by mid morning.”
As they spoke, the two panthers stalked over to Khandril. Their eyes flicked up to her and stared as if asking permission for their closeness. Her stance relaxed and her eyes blinked twice at them, the gesture giving them the leave they had requested. Their heads bumped into her hands and nuzzled gently, respectfully. The woman closed her eyes and sank to the ground, sitting as the two massive predators curled around her body contentedly. This, was a gift that her embrace had offered her. Awakening an ability that while human was dormant and less powerful, as a Gangrel Vampire was alive and flowing about her like an unseen cloak of wild power. One predator to another the great cats found comfort and understanding in the presence of the equally dark woman that they snuggled against. Yet another side of Khandril met Victor's eyes as she uttered a soft sigh, laying her head in an almost child like gesture against Argus' broad side tiredly.
“Arbiter it really is too late to get to an inn....”
Alyssia sighed, her own weariness beginning to catch up with her. “I won't leave Kh...”
“Alyssia, go.”
The soft, simple words caused all of them to turn towards the woman as she leaned upon the panthers.
“Are you sure?” The warrior's own voice was suddenly soft and warm, looking with great affection towards her companion.
Khandril just nodded quietly and looked away.
“You two go with Pauldo, I'll be there in a moment.” It was a command, not a request.
Pauldo and Jhadira ducked their heads respectfully as Victor stood and tried to regain his dignity. They all walked through the gates and towards the small stone church that lay in the center of the gravestones. “Do not worry, Arbiter!” Pauldo's voice called from the door. “She will not be alone! Argus and Riah will stay with her.” And with that, the heavy door to the building closed and Alyssia, Khandril and the cats were left alone.
The Warrior looked down at the sullen woman and sighed softly.
“I...am sorry. I don't know what came over me...” Khandril's quiet whisper drifted up to her ears. And then a trickle of thick thick crimson rolled down the dark woman's cheek and dripped on to her shoulder.
Alyssia knelt down and wrapped her arms around Khandril, helping the great cats hold her while she cried quietly.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:37:52 GMT -5
The next morning, the traveling party sat around an inn table picking at a tray of breakfast fare while trying to plot out their next destination. All but one, who had huddled herself within a small out of the way mausoleum inside the graveyard as she slumbered within her own personal darkness.
Pauldo's finger rested lightly upon an old, tattered map that he had been given by the church monks. It showed the surrounding terrain and a number of settlements within the lands they were traveling through. His voice had risen to his usual excited titter as he explained in length the history of their Clan's shattering over a century before. “Only three of the Houses fled to other worlds.” He said, “Two chose to stay behind here in Barsaive to keep an eye upon the Clan's previous holdings. Also, watching for a time when perhaps we could regain them.”
Jhadira frowned slightly, “But yet, no one's heard from them? I hope they still live... It will be difficult to succeed in this quest when we require all the bloodlines to gather in order for a new Council to be created.”
Alyssia was kicked back in her chair, booted feet upon the table with ankles crossed. Her hat was slid over her eyes as she seemingly dozed lightly and ignored most of the conversation.
“W...well....y..y..yes....” Pauldo stuttered, a sure sign that even he was unsure of the knowledge he had gathered. “But!” His finger moved to the east and tapped down upon what looked to be a keep. “This is the area in which it is said that House Morden hid away...” His voice trailed off a bit. “But from the rumors and myths of the local people, they did not stay hidden long. In fact, typical to the Mordens, they quickly set themselves up as local politicians and eventually weaseled their way into the noble hierarchy. In fact, it is said that they banished the existing Monarch and pushed out all the other competition to the throne. They then enacted their own reign in the small Kingdom of Tul'ver.”
Jhadira pursed her lips and Alyssia scoffed softly, giving up her ruse of boredom. Though she never moved or pushed her hat back, her voice was heard muffled and thick with weariness. “My da' used ta' tell me 'bout the Mordens from wha' he learned from his da'. Said they was all arrogant snot nosed good fer nothin's that always wanted ta' hold the position o' Arbiter o'er the council in the old days. Thinkin' 'emselves the only ones suited fer the job. So it figures I guess.”
Pauldo perked up and gave a grin at Alyssia, though she could not see it. It always made him overly happy when anyone mentioned that they had even the slightest knowledge of history. Though, he often made the mistake of thinking they knew more than they had mentioned and he began to ramble. “Well historically speaking, then yes. The Mordens were always the House who believed that our people were...somehow greater than any others. Through the Clan's history they did hold the positions of Arbiter many times. The genetic advancements that the Patron gave us certainly were grand in scale on some levels. Though House Morden took it a step further and began speaking of keeping the bloodlines pure. In fact!” His finger pointed in the air as he stood erect, grinning widely and eyes gleaming at the prospect of offering to his friends knowledge they had never known. “Were you aware that Clan Shadow Strike was originally formed by a small group of traitors from House Morden? Those who believed that the only way to ensure our bloodlines stayed pure was to cease breeding with those outside the Clan. And only breed with those of the Clan who held the genetic traits? This began a series of inbreeding within Shadow Strike's ranks that was the catalyst for our Clan's banishing of any and all of those who would swear loyalty to them for fear that the inbreeding would begin to stretch further and invade Stormwind. And we all know what happens when you inbreed...” He made a crazy sign, twirling his finger around his ear with eyes that sparkled in humor. “Turns you into a Madwind!”
Alyssia, Jhadira and even Victor chuckled at the remark. But Alyssia's amusement died shortly after. She suddenly frowned and slowly pushed her cap up and away from her eyes. They looked haunted and sad, the expression killing off everyone's mirth. And then her soft voice came huskily. “I'm a Madwind...aren't I....?”
There was a long, awkward silence.
Jhadira placed a gentle hand on Alyssia's arm and whispered softly, “Yes, but not due to any fault in your parentage. If anything, you would be the Morden's ideal considering that your true father was not Omar, but the Patron himself. Furthermore, you are considered a Madwind because you never underwent your right of passage. And you had to learn to control your powers on your own. That combined with the overall purity of your blood, considering the circumstances of your birth... It...left you a bit touched I fear.” Jhadira's eyes suddenly widened and she began stuttering for fear she had insulted her dear friend. “I..I..I...I mean....not...like that. But, the circumstances in your life that have L..l...left you...with...well you hold...I mean...House Kanath...” The priestess trailed off, flustered and bright red. Victor put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her quietly, kissing the top of his wife's head in effort to soothe her unease.
For her part, Alyssia just gazed at the small woman next to her with a softness in her emerald eyes. No anger was there, no defiance. Only a quiet and almost submissive acceptance of what she was. “I know, House Kanath are the Clan's warriors....”
“And your gift from the Patron is your rage. Among many others.” Pauldo interjected, trying to smooth things over. “Your skill and your anger. Your ability to feed off of the energy of battle and translate into a ferocity that cut your enemies low! The purity of the Dragon's blood within you means your abilities are more powerful, if not...harder to control...” He trailed off briefly before grinning slightly at her in embarrassment. “ Do not feel poorly, Arbiter. All us within our Clan who hold the trait are all more than a bit...unbalanced!. Not to mention you hold both the Artifact Havoc and Ainfean's Sash, which proves you to be not only the Elder of House Kanath but by Jhadira's prophecy, the bearer of our people's hope.”
Alyssia smiled softly at him and sighed, which caused everyone to give a sigh of relief as well.
“I...am afraid they will not accept me as their Arbiter...”
Another brief pause before Jhadira broke in quietly. “They will. They must. The Goddess' vision is still strong within me. It may be a struggle but you are ready for it despite your fears. If we truly find any left of House Morden, they may be the only ones who would challenge you. And you will win such a challenge. I have seen the future. And you have the backing of all the Houses. Any questions of those left who were once of our Clan shall be answered and you shall be beloved of the people.” Her voice had taken on a distant tone as if she could see in her mind's eye the very future she spoke of. They all watched in awe as the small quiet woman took upon herself a countenance of wisdom, radiating powerfully with her faith. And as she believed, so they all believed. As quickly as it came, Alyssia's unease filtered away and she was left staring in wonder at the light that shone from Jhadira Martik's face. For a moment she believed that it was really there, physically manifested with enough power to drown out everything within the common room. But as she continued to watch, she realized that it was a power no one but they could feel.
No one noticed Argus' and Riah's heads lift from the floor where they had been quietly and unobtrusively dozing. The two panthers turning towards sounds outside that the others were unable to hear. Argus let out a low long growl that startled the others into looking over.
Pauldo tilted his head and said softly to him, “What is wrong?”
Alyssia slowly sat up, frowning. “Pauldo? They alright'?”
“I...I don't know. They sense something but I am unsure as to what it is.”
They all began looking around and it was Alyssia who first noticed that the barkeep had suddenly disappeared from behind the counter where he had been stocking wares. The room was otherwise completely empty.
After a moment, they began hearing the sounds. The rattling of weapons and marching of booted feet outside the door. The scabbard at Alyssia's hip began to glow, the crystalline blue runes along it's length flaring to life and warning them of the danger to come. The weapon began pulsing, a tense energy vibration that the warrior could feel. She began getting impressions from the artifact. Danger was it's message. Many enemies. A greater threat than you may think were the thoughts that drifted through her mind.
Pauldo hastily rolled up the map and shoved it into his map case.
Jhadira and Victor stood slowly, the man's hand moving to the grip of his sword and she holding tightly upon the haft of the Staff of Zephyr.
Alyssia....just continued to sit as her eyes locked onto the door, waiting patiently.
Pauldo suddenly knelt by his companions and whispered to them hurriedly. “One of you needs to go to Khandril. Quickly! Be there when she awakens. Tell her if we do not come back. Tell her, go!” Even the bumbling sage had the impression that this was serious.
Argus and Riah looked at one another for a moment in silent conversation. He larger male licked quickly upon his mate's nose and lips in a loving gesture before she shot towards the door to the kitchen. It swung upon it's hinges as the cat burst through and towards the Inn's back door. Argus stood and turned towards the front, hackles on his back rising and a low rumble emitting from his chest. He flexed his claws in preparation for what was soon to come.
The sounds came ever closer until they stopped just outside. Then, the doors swung open and a portly but well armored man came striding through the door. He had an arrogant smile upon his round, plain face and spread his hands upon seeing the small party. “Well well! Look who it is...” A contingent of heavily armored guards came with him in a stream, fanning out and around the room with weapons drawn.
It was now that Alyssia slowly stood, an equally arrogant and dangerous look upon her face as she smiled slightly to the man. A memory flashed within her mind. She had seen him before, but from where? Slowly it came to her...he was the man she had seen out the window of the inn at the last town. The man who she thought had been the guard commander. But he had disappeared almost as soon as the melee had started. “To what do we owe this...visit? I am afraid I do nae know you sir. An' think they' perhaps you 'ave the wrong quarry.”
As the guards surrounded the uneasy troupe completely, the man gave a low laugh. “Oh I think not, Alyssia Kanath. I know of you and your friends. Do not think your travels have not been watched since the moment you stepped foot within these lands.”
“Why?” Pauldo asked curiously, “We have broken no laws...” The others winced slightly. Alyssia smirked to herself. As Pauldo saw the looks upon their faces he cringed inwardly. “I...don't think...”
“Oh do not worry, Scholar of House Argorn.” The words fell from his tongue slowly like venom dripping from the fangs of a viper. “This has nothing to do with laws. I am here to deliver you to my commander. Who, in turn, shall deliver you all with great glory to our new Emperor.”
“Emperor?” Alyssia's eyebrow rose slowly, an incredulous look upon her face.
“Indeed.”
Pauldo began curiously studying the man's uniform. Black leather with golden studs adorned his cuirass. And upon his left breast was a red skull, a menacing and evil looking grin upon it's features. A coiled viper wrapped around and through it's dead sockets, fangs bared. The skull itself was bisected by what looked to be a bolt of crimson lightning. The sage's eyebrows suddenly shot up as he looked back to the man's face. His voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper. “You bear the symbol of a traitorous lineage, sir.”
All their eyes fell to the mark. Only Alyssia and Jhadira began putting two and two together.
“I am Pense.” The man straightened himself as much as his chubbiness would allow. His face had gone flushed with anger and his words hissed outward. “And I am no traitor. It is YOU who are the traitors. Traitors to your people. Traitors to your race!” He was visibly vibrating now. It had gone unnoticed by those others who wore the same symbol upon their breast but most of the guards that surrounded them were local to the town. They became uneasy, shifting nervously at the man's sudden outburst. “And now we have found our own champion. And he will lead us to the final destruction of Clan Stormwind.”
“How is that possible?” Jhadira gasped, “Shadow Strike was destroyed during the Clan wars...”
“No!” He whirled upon the smaller woman with fists clenched. Victor stepped in front of his wife and lifted his sword, glaring. “No... A small handful of us remained...” He seemed to now have regained his composure somewhat. “And when we were found, broken and huddled by the hand of your last Arbiter and his forces, it was he who promised us redemption. And now, we shall take our revenge. It is we who shall bring the City of Zakhar to it's glory once again. We who shall rebuild our nation. And WE who shall gain control over all that we lost and more....”
Alyssia glanced around quickly. They were outnumbered five to one. The number of people within the room left little space for a brawl.
He saw her gaze and laughed loudly, a slightly hysterical edge to the grating sound. “Oh look around all you want, woman. The tavern is surrounded outside. The gates are sealed. And we have men searching for your companion's resting place. It shall be her final....resting place.”
“Who is it...?” Alyssia slowly swung her gaze towards him, teeth gritted in sudden anger. “Who is it who you call Emperor? Who leads you upon this sullied road. To folly and disaster?”
A slow, snakelike smile touched his lips as he answered her. Dark beady eyes lighting up with a strange sense of joy. “Oh you know him.... He is Khelendrose. Savior of our people.”
Alyssia looked as if she had been struck. “He...followed me here....?” She gasped.
Jhadira and Victor had confused looks.
Pauldo tilted his head, brows furrowing deeply with confusion. “Khel?” He shook his head. “No, surely not....”
They all swung their gaze to the confused man. Argus growled again, hissing at the name. “Pauldo, you know this man?” Jhadira had asked.
“Well I don't know, perhaps...”
“Enough! It's time to go.” The man motioned for the guards to close in. They moved forward, weapons drawn.
Everyone else looked at Alyssia to see what they were to do. Victor wanted to fight. Jhadira looked nervous. Pauldo looked shocked and confused. Argus crept forward, snarling.
Slowly, Alyssia raised her arms. “We can't fight 'em...” She muttered to her companions. “There's too many.”
“I refuse to be taken by these ...ruffians!” Jhadira stomped her foot with defiance.
“I don' like it anymore than you do. But we'll 'ave to find another way.”
Argus had different ideas. He crouched and prepared to spring for the nearest guards. Just as he lept, a man stepped forward quickly with a blowgun to his lips. A dart flew and hit the great cat in the flank. Argus twisted in mid-air and landed weakly upon the wooden floor. He tried to get up, but faltered and suddenly fell to the ground unconscious.
“Argus!” Pauldo cried and tried to run for his friend, but he was suddenly taken by the arms.
“Oh don't worry, he's not dead.” Pense laughed with perverted glee. “He will be taken as well. He'll make a wonderful pet for the Emperor.”
Just as Alyssia was taken by the arms, she snarled, “He's not Emperor yet. An' I will ensure tha' the son of a bitch dies before he even steps foot in Zakhar.” She spat, the glob hitting one of the guards near her square in the face. He wiped it off and offered an open handed hit to her cheek, causing the Warrior's head to snap to the side as she continued growling.”
Pense just held up his hand and began chanting in the strange, spidery language of magic. Suddenly a great weariness settled over the group, and even a few guards.
Alyssia tried desperately to keep her eyes open as her knees became weak. She heard Victor collapse to the floor behind her. Pauldo stumbled for a moment before sinking into slumber himself, slumped against the table. She fell to her knees, the growl from her chest turning into a defiant sound. But she was losing the battle. Jhadira was the longest to stand. Glaring at the man who would cast upon her. She made no move to counter it, though Alyssia thought perhaps she could. But just before darkness consumed Alyssia's thoughts, she heard the priestess sink to the floor.
Pense smiled as he pulled on a pair of dark gloves. Magical runes were embroidered into them and they pulsed with a dark magic. He strode to Alyssia and unbuckled her sword belt before gently removing Havoc. The blade flared to life and erupted in an explosion of magical energy. It was angry. It did not like anyone but it's wielder to touch it. And often, as had happened within the tavern at the last town, those who did ended up very dead. But the gloves seemed to absorb it's magic and it's runes began pulsing with frustration. “Come now, my little treasure. Khelendrose is very...very excited to see you. For you shall be his now. For ever more....”
They were dragged from the room and put upon a cart outside. Once covered, the cart began to rumble out of town with an escort of guards. Looking as if it was a merchant's cart, no one suspected foul play. Not one person stopped or questioned them as the doors to Three Rivers swung open and the future of Clan Stormwind was taken away to some unknown dark place.
To die.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:38:16 GMT -5
badum!badum!badum!badum!badum!badum!badum!
As Khandril's senses slowly returned from her silent non-existence a steady thrumming beat surrounded her. There was heat wrapped around her body, living wild energy shielded her form from any outside chill. The vampire held perfectly still, reaching out with her other senses in attempt to identify her situation. She had fallen to slumber inside an old sealed crypt. Upon the far wall there was a hole in the crumbling marble just large enough for an animal to crawl through but not enough for anyone of human size or greater. There within the silent company of the grave's long dead inhabitants...she had curled beneath a bench and fallen into her darkness.
A rough tongue washed over her cheek, causing the woman's ice like eyes to slowly open. Head tilting back she looked into the panting face of Riah. Teeth bared in a grimace as she inhaled deep heaving breaths. It was obvious the animal was tired and Khandril caught the tangy scent of thickened blood. She was wounded. The rapid pace of Riah's heart told her also that the creature was afraid.
Khandril shifted slowly and slid from under the bench, untangling herself from the great cat's massive body. She sat up, frowning as her hands roamed over the creature's sides and up to her neck. Eyes fell upon the wounds...along her front paws were cuts and scrape marks...and the tips of two claws were broken. Quickly, the woman flicked her gaze towards the only entrance and noted that it had been torn open more, crumbled stone fallen to the earth...some pulverized by Rhia's teeth as she chewed as well as pulled at it with her paws. There were also marks along her sides and neck, thankfully nothing deep enough to be of major concern.
Looking back to the cat, Khandril locked her gaze upon it's own and leaned forward just slightly. The connection fell into place quickly as Khandril suddenly felt the creature's beast shudder and perk up, responding to her silent summons. Rhia rolled upright and sat patiently, gazing serenely into Khandril's eyes as the woman's own senses heightened, focusing intently upon the cat before her.
Khandril watched the animal closely. The way Riah's tail flicked in agitation, how her claws flexed...kneading into the dusty stone beneath. The tenseness of her body, prepared any second to bolt or strike.
Impressions began flitting about in her mind, staying for merely a second before disappearing again like fine desert sand through shaking fingers. She saw the inn common room and though it wasn't clear, the sense that the others were there...near... She felt their vibrations, heard bits and pieces of conversation as if they were far far away. Then...danger... There was danger approaching. Suddenly her vision filled with Pauldo's face and he was speaking to the cat...but Khandril could not grasp at what he was saying. Then freedom...running...fear as the buildings flew past her. Shouts in the distance. Voices behind her. Anger. Rage. The predator and prey dynamic shifted as these evil men chased Riah through the back alleys. Wounds, the smell of blood as they cornered her once and tried to throw a net. Sharp edges as the weights sliced into her flank. Escape...the sweet taste of blood upon her tongue as one fell to her teeth and claws... She ran...heart pumping and chest heaving....ran until they were no longer chasing her.
Just then the process was halted abruptly. The connection broken as voices were suddenly heard outside the crypt. Khandril blinked a few times rapidly to adjust her senses back to her own while Rhia stiffened and held perfectly still, eyes staring at the entrance she had made.
“Damn.” Khandril softly swore to herself, frowning. She and Riah glanced at one another briefly before Khandril nodded and silently slid back into the dark shadows of the small space. Those shadows moved, slowly stretching towards the exit. Whoever these men were who had her companions and now searched for her would pay for their actions.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:38:48 GMT -5
The four men spread out amongst the old crumbling headstones that dotted the aged burial grounds. A wispy flowing mist swirled around their damp boots, finger like tendrils seeming to claw it's way up their legs, reaching towards them with a desperate air before the breeze would come tearing in and scattering the vapor away and to it's bidding. All four shivered in the chill air, pulling their cloaks tighter about them as nervous eyes glanced to and fro, expecting any moment to be set upon by some great evil that would suck the very life from their bodies and leave them no more than dried husks upon the soggy ground.
“Hark....” One hissed, his short stature and thick body doing nothing to hide the soft squelch of his boots as they plodded through the marshy earth beneath his feet. “I don't like this...”
A loud scoff echoed around the grounds as another man's voice rose, “Stop yer belly aching' Tem. You keep it up and Hark may as well send ya home to yer ma' for swaddlin'.”
“Shut up, both of you.” A third voice, deeper and more commanding drifted through the night air. “If the thing is here, you two's yammering is going to alert it to us. So be quiet, keep searching and if you see anything strange, call out. Otherwise bolt it shut.”
“It's so dark out here...I can't see a damn thing...” whispered the fourth voice, “Screw it, I'm lighting a torch.”
Before the other men could warn him away, the torch was lit and a flare of golden orange light illuminated them. The shadows around him danced and moved eerily in the flickering light, causing the gravestones to seem as if they were almost slowly twisting, attempting to pull themselves from the very ground. The illusion was not lost on all four guardsmen as they stared around, suddenly more frightened now that the light was revealing their shivering forms.
No one realized that such a thing could possibly be the only saving grace they had.
“Idiot!” One hissed angrily.
Their leader, Hark was his name, was a tall sturdy man of middle age and keen eye. Of them all, he stayed silent instead of admonishing his younger recruit. He alone knew to some extent what they were up against and nodded his dark haired head slowly. Reaching back to his pack he too drew a torch and set it ablaze. “Perhaps Gideon has an idea. In the dark we're sitting ducks. It can see better than we can. But maybe the fire will spook it out.”
The other two men hesitated a moment too long.
“Alrigh' fine but if this gets me....mpphhh!”
Sudden silence.
“Tem? Tem! Where are you!”
The remaining three drew their weapons, the hissing of steel echoing around the yard, cutting through the dark silence.
“To me!” Hark roared, the need for silence long gone as he gathered his men to his side.
They both began running towards him in a panic. The one with the torch slashing through the air with his sword haphazardly without any aim or direction.
The second man stumbled, giving a strangled shriek as his knees hit the wet ground. His sword fell from his grasp and he grabbed around the mud in a frenzy of terror, babbling to himself incoherently.
“Get up, Jaren! Leave it! Get to the light!” He cried out but it was then in the dimness he saw them. Two glowing blood red orbs emerging from the deeper darkness. Eyes...eyes so terrible that a ripple of sheer horror ran down his spine. In that matter of seconds, he knew that a second of his men was lost.
Jaren saw the look upon his commander's face and he flipped to his back, turning to see what was coming for him. It was probably the least intelligent thing he'd ever done in his short life. When he saw those eyes, he began screaming in terror, holding his hands before his face and pleading pitifully for mercy.
None came.
The shadows were upon him in an instant, swallowing him whole. Or more appropriately, dragging him by one foot in. Hark could not tell either way, to him it looked as if the poor man had been engulfed in darkness. His screaming came to an abrupt halt.
“What do we do Cap'n!?” The last man cried out frantically, looking this way and that as his eyes nearly bulged from his head. “We gotta get outta here! We gotta go!”
“Keep your head about you, guardsman!” Hark nearly screamed at him, trying to shove his own panic down deep into that dark place that all good military men have. That place where they push all the terrible things they've witnessed away, hiding it from everyone around them. It was one of two places every warrior held within them. The place where they locked away their fear and grief. And the place where they went when they killed.
Just then, a huge black shape lept from the darkness, a mass of furred muscle, tooth and claw. The form impacted hard with the other man's back with an ear shattering roar, toppling him forward and causing the torch he held to fly from his grasp. It fell into a puddle of stagnant water, the flame flickering and sputtering out with a hiss. Another scream shattered the night air as wet slicing sounds assaulted Hark's ears, making him suddenly nauseous. The sound of bone crunching and entrails being pulled. Unlike the other two...he screamed long and hard. The guard captain could do nothing but stand in horror, listening as his last man was torn to ribbons and great pieces of him were chewed and flung. After a moment, with a wet gurgling sound that no man should ever make, did the pained frenzy of screaming suddenly stop.
And then he saw them again, those crimson orbs moving slowly out from the darkness. They approached slowly, seeming to stare right through his body and into his very soul. He shook, shivering under his armor as the eyes slowly faded into a pale icy blue. He could see her now, the darkness having pulled away to reveal a tall raven haired woman standing just at the edge of the flickering torch light. And then he felt more than saw another presence at his back, a low growl causing another ripple to ride up his spine.
“Why do you hunt me?” Her voice was soft, husky.
“Stay back, demon...!” Hark raised his sword threateningly, taking a step back. Another growl was heard which caused him to freeze instantly, eyes widening.
Khandril stepped forward as he stepped back, claiming more of his space as a wolf would do to dominate a younger, less able, animal. “Answer. Why do you hunt me?” Her voice never lost that low softness. But riding along that sound was a hard, steel edge. A promise of terrible things should he not answer her query.
Hark straightened himself, attempting to look more threatening by using his size. “We are under orders from the magistrate to capture all those in cooperation with the woman Alyssia Kanath.”
Khandril paused slightly before taking another slow step forward. The man thrust the torch outward from his body, causing her to pause yet again. The vampire froze and bared her fangs, hissing in anger. “And who ordered your magistrate?” Her voice rose as her anger began to build.
Hark started getting more nervous, if that was even possible. He was for all intents and purposes surrounded. His men were dead or dying. He was alone, outnumbered, and held little chance of survival. “A man came to town with some of his personal guard. After speaking to the Magistrate, we were given our orders. That's all I know. I don't ask questions of my superiors.” His voice quivered, no longer able to hide the fear he felt.
There was silence for one, long and terrible moment.
“Tell me where they are....” Khandril's tone had dropped again, a soft purring sound. The sudden change was almost startling. The woman's body relaxed and she took another slow step forward. “If you tell me where I can find them, I will let you live. Let you return to your family.”
The torch wavered. “Y..you lie...”
“No. I do not lie. Lying is foolish. It prolongs the inevitable. Precious energy wasted. I speak the truth to you, warrior. I am not without mercy nor integrity. For I am not your enemy. You see good man, you have been fooled. He who bid you to hunt me and my companions is the true evil. And it is because we defy him that he hunts us. He does so because he is afraid. Afraid of where our path ends. Afraid of the moment where our tread crosses his own and he shall be destroyed in the fires of his own hatred and need for vengeance. You have become a lackey. A servant of those more powerful and more influential than yourself or your men. Caught between two struggling forces that you will never understand, nor ever hope to defeat. A pawn in a game that you had no idea even existed.”
Hark suddenly noticed that the lull of her words had caused him to relax without realizing it. The torch had lowered, as had his sword. Transfixed with the sound of her voice and graceful movements of her body. She had come closer. Too close. But his mind worked frantically trying to understand what she had been saying. Was she right? Was he being used without realizing it? Suddenly the world did not seem so black and white. Suddenly those he thought were allies could turn out to be enemies. Suddenly his family was in danger. His very life teetered on the edge of a pit of lies. He was a good man. Only following orders.
“Put the torch down.” Khandril said softly. “I give my oath that you will not die by my hand this night.”
“And if you lie?” He choked out, struggling to maintain his senses.
“If I lie, then you die. It is that simple. If you deny me, you die. If you fight me, you die. But if you believe me and set aside your weapons, then there is a chance you will live. Which do you prefer? One hundred percent? Or fifty percent? Certainly the odds are better if you trust me.”
He could not argue that logic. Hark was not a stupid man, but nor was he overly wise or keen.
The torch dropped to the ground, sputtering. Instantly Riah moved in, overcoming her own fears of flame to bat it away. The great cat hopped over near it, turning and digging her hind paws into the mud, flinging it backwards upon the flame in effort to put it out. Once again the graveyard was enveloped in darkness.
Khandril could hear his heartbeat thudding frantically within his chest. She could smell the fear pouring off his skin and hear as well the rushing of his blood. She shivered in the darkness, hunger suddenly rising within her. She stepped forward more quickly, batting his blade from the man's nerveless grip. It fell to the ground with a dull, wet thud. Pressed against the man's heaving chest she looked up and smiled slightly, reaching to caress his cheek. Light cool fingertips glided down his skin and over the side of his neck. “Tell me where they are...”
The clouds drifted, revealing the silvery rays of bright moonlight. It fell upon the two, causing Khandril's pale skin to almost shimmer. Blue black hair fell back from her face as she gazed into his eyes with an almost gentle look. And as he looked into those pale, glimmering orbs he felt a calmness wash over him. The shivering stopped. The fear melted away. His voice became low, warm, almost pleading. “They were taken from town this afternoon.... I...I do not know where but it sounded as if they headed east. But the only thing east is plains and even further, the shining desert.”
He closed his eyes and almost whimpered child like as he felt her lean in, nuzzling at his throat and emitting a deep pleased growl. “Anything else...?” Khandril whispered softly.
“I...I heard...” He gasped loudly as she suddenly pulled him down to his knees with a power he had never known from a woman. Both there upon the thick muddy ground, the vampire's iron grip upon his shoulders, squeezing tightly...almost painfully. “I heard their leader ...say...say that...there was only one more to find. Something about...something about taking them and imprisoning them in some citadel upon the plains.”
Her lips traced over his jugular and then brushed upwards to his ear, whispering into it softly. “Are you sure they said only one more?” This confused Khandril a bit. As she full well knew that there were two members of Clan Stormwind's High Council that were still missing.
“I..I swear. Please....please...” His voice broke off into a half sob as he sat there upon his wet knees, shaking in the night chill. But he shook not from the cold...he shook with a sudden need. If he had been in his right mind he would have pulled away. Ran. Fought. But it was as if he could not think. Could not do anything but want something from this woman who held him hostage here surrounded by the dead.
“Shhh...shh.... Fear not. You shall see your family soon. I give my word.”
She struck suddenly, too fast for any mundane eye to follow. He yelped, giving a strangled shriek. But soon it turned to a low desperate moan as he clawed frantically at the woman's back. Blood trickled out from the wound in his neck and flowed over her tongue, coating it. Soft sounds escaped her throat as she drank his life blood like one would swallow a glass of sweet elven wine. Slowly she savored it, feeling her strength return with each pulse of her victim's heart. His sounds became weaker, his struggling stopped. She held him upright as his body threatened to fall to the ground.
Reluctantly she pulled away, gasping. Her mouth and throat covered in crimson. After a moment of holding his limp form she came back to her senses. She did not want him dead. She had been true to her word. Leaning back in she licked softly at the wound, a low vibrating purr rumbling from her chest. Then she lay him down gently, placing a hand upon his wound and using her free one to wipe up the precious vitae from her face and throat, licking her fingers slowly...sensuously. She could hear Rhia purring near her, a deeper rumble to pay in sync with her own.
Khandril looked over to the cat and sighed softly before taking the man in her arms and standing to look about. Quietly, the two walked from the yard and into the streets by way of every shadow they could use.
By dawn, they would be long out of city limits.
Hark would be found laying upon the steps of the guard hall, sleeping deeply with a soft satisfied smile upon his face.
Pinned to his armor was a note that read: “Wrong Monster.”
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:39:23 GMT -5
The procession as they had continued traveling along the dusty, uneven road had grown over the past few days. Now, what was once only a cart and small contingent of guards, had turned into a small caravan consisting of six carts and nearly fifty armed troops. Roughly half of these troops were mounted soldiers. The rest were footmen and support units.
The three who were kept in the first covered cart had been, for the most part, unharmed. Jhadira, Victor and Pauldo sat huddled inside, hands and feet bound by steel shackles. Jhadira and Pauldo had been collared with magical devices that seemed to suppress their natural Thunderlord abilities from manifesting. That, coupled with the fact that they had been stripped of all their gear, components and magical accoutrements (Including Jhadira's holy pentacle which left the priestess cut off from all but the most mundane of her divine abilities) was an ultimate humiliation.
Each had been subject to interrogation on a nightly basis though their defiance had never been punished by violence. Victor had refused to speak all together, instead holding a grim and silent countenance during even the most emotionally abusive of questioning.
Jhadira had taken the questioning serenely, and though angered at their predicament, had met her questioners with nothing more than soft prayers, knowing smiles, and an air of sorrow for their captor's refusal of the true path.
Pauldo had frustrated Pense and his men to no end by answering their queries with many of his own, never giving answers and instead asking them repeatedly about how they had been able to survive the Clan wars and over the past two centuries gain enough of a foothold to rebuild themselves.
Alyssia had not been so lucky.
Whether it be in effort to break her companions or their almost blind hatred of anyone holding the title of Arbiter in Clan Stormwind could not be readily understood. Where the three were treated with an almost cold dismissal and given basic luxuries such as food and water...their Arbiter's situation weighed heavily upon the opposite end of the spectrum.
She had been locked in a separate, iron bound wagon that lacked any vents or openings save the single small and barred window set within the door upon the back. No one was allowed contact with her save Pense, a small group of his personal guard, and another man who had not identified himself to the others. Pauldo had whispered upon seeing him that it looked as if the man were some kind of arcane caster given his heavy black robes and bald head which had been tattooed with various magical symbols. They had never heard him speak. Only watched as he accompanied the others to Alyssia's cart each night so that they could drag the half conscious woman from it.
On the first night they had watched in horror as four men pulled a shackled and collared Alyssia to the ground and proceeded to spend what seemed like hours beating her into submission. The woman spat and cursed, struggled and fought them. Jhadira sobbed frantically, struggling to reach the overrun woman and break her bonds to no effect. She could not even free herself of her own shackles let alone get through the bars of the cart. She heard each snap of bone as the men's booted feet made contact with the warrior's ribcage. Heard each strangled shriek as they laughed derisively while pummeling her with their fists. Saw the blood fly from her mouth as one particularly violent kick caught her in the jaw.
After the beating they had dragged the unconscious woman to a tent where they would wake her and begin the interrogation.
On the second day...they had heard muffled whimpers and retching coming from the other cart. Hacking coughs and choking sounds as if someone were drowning. Occasionally one of the armed guards at the wagon would glance back curiously and peek in, then smirk and turn again to mumble something to his companion.
That night the door was opened again and Alyssia was dragged out only to be thrown in a heap upon the ground. Her hair was matted with blood and other unidentifiable things. Her body coated in a slick sheen of sweat and her once white shirt sticky with blood and vomit. Her face was covered in bruises, the left side swollen. This time the struggle was less intense, but her eyes still sparked defiance. Her body near quivered with shock and exhaustion but still as the men mauled the smaller woman she cursed at yelled.... When she was finally silent, they took her by the arms and with booted feet dragging a trail in the muddy earth she was taken to the tent again.
After an hour of questioning, Pense's voice rose up in a great shout, the words tinged with rage. Even the guards around the tent looked nervous as their commander's ire rose like a hot wind, stirring up the troops and causing many eyes to turn towards the direction of the sound. Suddenly, Alyssia's hoarse and hysterically insane laughter echoed his rage...the tone of it causing a sliver of dread and anguish to fall upon her companions. Jhadira had feared that her treatment had caused the tenuous cord of her sanity to finally snap. Pauldo shrunk back in slight fear despite himself, unsure what to make of it. Victor's reaction took on an entirely different turn.
The Paladin's eyes widened and the world around him narrowed, falling away into darkness. A memory, dark and terrible flooded his mind and he let out a strangled cry, instantly beginning to struggle with his bonds. Jhadira tried to subdue the larger man as best she could but he had lost the ability to reason. Something about that sound...the sound of Alyssia's wicked laughter in that moment had caused a flood of memories to crash into the young man's psyche. Suddenly he was not in a cart held captive by Clan Shadow Strike. Suddenly, Victor Draken was a ten year old boy watching the Dark General, the Stormwolf, laugh hysterically while emptying a quiver of arrows into his mother's body as the woman screamed to the gods for the release of death upon the rack that she had been shackled to. He saw the troops around him , and they were her troops. The camp fires....were her camp fires... The eerie sound of a wolf pack in the distance was now the insane baying of the psychotic woman's war dogs as they tore apart and feasted upon the body of his father after it had been drawn and quartered by her four best horses.
Quickly, the door flew open and two guards rushed in to drag the flailing man out. Jhadira screamed for him...begged them to stop...
They ignored her.
Pauldo sat up, his mind whirling frantically. There was too much confusion. Too much violence. Why was he here? Why not at home in his study surrounded by his family and reading his books...leading the quiet life of a sage like he should. But then he heard it. His ears picked up the steady low murmur of chanting. It's energy flowed slowly, snakelike as an undercurrent to the violence and noise.
Jhadira looked panicked between the men who were trying to beat her husband into silence upon the ground and the sudden noise. The hairs upon her neck rose...a shiver coursed down her spine. Jaw dropping as tears flowed freely over her cheeks, her hand came to her mouth and she whispered a single word. “No.”
The man in robes had begun speaking.
Not speaking...casting.
And this magic was not arcane as Pauldo had before suggested...it held an entirely different energy. As if it could be shaped to the will of he who commanded it on a whim. Intrusive and evil, twisted and malevolent. She could feel the darkness press upon them all suddenly. It was as if her own soul was being pushed back and down into some terrible unknown prison.
Her whisper turned into a scream as blue eyes turned away from her husband's plight and focused on the tent in which Alyssia had been taken. A primal sound escaped her chest and she pressed herself against the bars howling in grief. She knew what was happening. She screamed again, calling Alyssia's name over and over.
Suddenly, her cry was met by a loud howling shriek from the tent. It was Alyssia. The shriek was defiant at first but within seconds it had turned into a long agonized and defeated scream of the warrior's own. The sound echoed, near ear shattering through the camp and through the plains.
Pauldo covered his head and began to sob quietly.
Jhadira sagged against the bars and again that soft horrified word tumbled from her lips. “No...”
Victor had been beaten unconscious and was now being thrown roughly back into the cart.
Off in the distance, that same pack of wolves echoed the Thunderlord's howl with a chorus of their own, the song low and mournful.
And then there was silence.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:39:41 GMT -5
The wolf's shaggy, white streaked head rose at the piercing cry that rode the chill autumn wind. The sound and energy of it radiating outward like a ripple effect over the plains of Tul'enar. He answered that scream with a a howl that at first was just as anguished, but then soon after rolled into something low and more sorrowful.
The three other wolves with him immediately joined him in a chorus, amplifying the sound to a much greater degree. Their message traveled with great speed over the distance required.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:40:27 GMT -5
Khandril's head rose soon after, dark hair falling like a shimmer of raven's wings over her ghostly pale face. The shimmering silver moonlight only caused her flesh to seem alabaster white and nearly translucent. Her eyes, which at best were so pale blue that they resembled the ancient hard packed ice of the Tundras where she was born, had gone lighter still so that they almost were indistinguishable from the whites. Only a thin, darker shade of aquamarine served to tell them apart.
The past three nights she had pushed herself to all her physical limits. The attempt to keep pace with those who had captured her companions was difficult. They would move during the day, she during the night. It should not have been so hard to track given the number of troops with them. Especially considering she had summoned a wolf pack to aid her. But they had magic users of some sort with them, because nearly all signs of their passing had been erased from the landscape.
Khandril had not fed since she left Three-Rivers. And even then, she had not fed fully. The constant usage of energy and Vite was weakening her. Not to mention that negotiation with the wolves had been more complicated than she was prepared for.
When she had summoned the pack, her intention was to get a local, mundane pack of wolves from the surrounding forest, just before she entered the plains. However she was unfamiliar with this territory and had no knowledge of local history or of the particular fauna that resided within the forests of Alyssia's home world. And so when out of the trees emerged what looked to be a pack of considerable size, she had begun to worry.
They were all large and well fed. Bright eyed and curious about what had compelled them to come to her. They had surrounded her almost immediately and the circle was slowly and warily closing in. As she gazed at the thirty or more wolves that stared at her, a wave of psychic energy nearly knocked the woman low. She swooned and shook her head quickly, trying to regain her senses and raise her metaphysical shields, but the energy only swelled further as three particularly large creatures slowly stepped from the shadows and climbed upon a small, mossy outcropping of rocks to gaze down at her in irritation. Whatever was happening, these three creatures were amplifying the energy output from the rest of the pack.
The largest, a great black beast with eyes the color of the deep forest, took a step forward and leaned his great shaggy head down to look the dumbstruck woman in the eye. Khandril could do little but ride their power out. She was in a delicate situation and to try and continue with her previous plan and direct these wolves as if they were typical would most likely backfire. Badly. So she waited. For what, she wasn't sure. But she hoped she would realize it when it happened.
The other two, held back and watched their Alpha along with the rest of the pack. One was a beautiful speckle of silver, Grey, and white. It was leaner than the other two, but still strong. This wolf was a female, that much Khandril could tell from her lower vantage. And she held in her cooler, sea hued eyes a more gentle gaze than her mate. There was fierceness there, Khandril saw clearly, but it was tempered with a strangely ancient wisdom.
The third was a male and slightly smaller than the Alpha. His fur was deep black over the head, back and paws. A blaze of white upon his forehead and a mane of white separated his visage from that of the larger male. As he stared at the vampire, his eyes were glittering even more fiercely than the others, for in his glare he held anger.
”Why is it you summon us, dead thing? How is it you do so? For in my long history roaming these forests no creature has had the power to compel my pack in such a way." The deep, powerful words speared through her mind, the sound strong and nearly consuming. Khandril fought the urge to drop to her knees and bow in homage to this creature. His words were careful, curious.
The vampire measured her own words just as carefully, for fear of causing insult. “I, did not realize that my summons would reach so far. Or, such an unusual audience. I do apologize for any inconvenience to you or your pack...” Her words trailed off as she glanced around with curiosity equal to her confusion.
Another voice, soft and gentle eased it's way into her mind and whispered quietly. “She is truthful. I do not believe she meant to cause harm. There is concern in her mind. Worry. She fears for someone. She wishes aid.”
Khandril spoke up quickly, almost rashly. “A friend of mine has been taken by evil men. I am following their trail but it is difficult. I had hoped that perhaps the aid of those more skilled in tracking than I,would be...of assistance...”
”So you summoned us as slaves! Oh how honorable of you. Tear her apart now and let us be off, Father.”
Khandril could only assume it came from the younger wolf, as his piercing green eyes had become even more menacing and his lips had curled back into a snarl.
The female turned upon the younger male and snapped at him, letting a low warning growl escape her chest. The younger jerked away and cringed, his ears flattening and tail curling between his legs as he jumped to the side. His snarl faded but he continued to stare at Khandril angrily.
Many of the other wolves seemed to share his sentiment. They shifted uneasily and let out soft annoyed growls and huffs. This could turn very bad.
“By what are you called, Name-giver?” The large male's sure voice cut through her mind like a blade, instantly focusing the vampire's attention upon him.
A look of confusion touched Khandril's eyes for a moment, unfamiliar with the title. Her pause was answered with a tinge of amusement by the incredible creature before her.
“You are a name-giver, yes? So what is the name by which you have been given?”
Khandril thought a moment as a vague memory of the teaching that both she and Alyssia had received from Pauldo before coming to this world. Name-giver was what all humanoid and demi-human races were called here in Barsaive. For the creatures of nature had no need for names. They recognized one another by other senses. Sight, smell, memories, actions and energy. Those were the truest forms of recognition. “My name is Khandril, and I come to beseech you on behalf of Arbiter Alyssia Kanath of Clan Stormwind.” The woman's mind worked quickly, hoping that the clan name would be recognized in these parts.
Of course, no recognition from the pack itself came. It was just a name. Just another name-giver. But the three before her stopped short, the Alpha's eyes taking on a shrewd and curious look.
“Clan Stormwind. Words not spoken in these parts for over a century.”
“Once again, I sense no lies....” The female stepped forward, eying the woman with quiet curiosity.
The Alpha's shaggy head nodded slowly, “I once held friends amongst Clan Stormwind...before the cursing.”
Khandril's head tilted, her words wary. “The cursing?”
“You are truly not from these lands if you know not the cursing of my family, dead thing.” the youthful male's voice snapped into her mind. “For the great one who stands before you was once King of Tul'enar. As my mother was Queen and I was Prince. Before we were cast from our Kingdom and cursed as beasts to wander these forests.”
As Khandril listened quietly, a soft chuckle entered her thoughts. The Alpha spoke up, “Forgive my son, he is rash and angry still, stung by our fate. Though he would also tell you that as now, he would have it no other way.” Sitting serenely upon the outcropping now, he flung his head, indicating those around him. “This is my Kingdom now. These are my people. Though they are not subjects to be ruled. The Name-givers called me Cairbre. As these beside me are my wife Eara and our son, Keegan. Once, we ruled the plains beyond these woods. But a century ago we were defeated and cast out by those of the very Clan you claim loyalty to. Though, this was after that Clan's shattering.”
Suddenly, Khandril feared that this would go even worse than she had previously thought. Her body tensed and suddenly she wished that Riah was at her side. But she had bid the cat to hunt and rest while she went about the summoning. Afraid the addition of a panther in the midst of a wolf pack without slow integration would cause chaos.
Eara's soft, gentle voice broke into her thoughts. “Worry not, we know of the companion who touches your thoughts. She is safe and being brought to this location. Of her own free will.”
“We are a peaceful lot, really. Wishing only to stay to our wood and clear of the name-givers and their influence. Though I hear much from the travelers upon the roads as I listen to their thoughts while their caravans pass the outskirts of these lands. My Kingdom has fallen even from the hands of what was once House Morden of Clan Stormwind. Castle Tulver is now over-run by the rogue Clan. The sorcerer who cursed us was of that Clan, though when Morden ousted me from my rule he had no idea. But over the years the elven sorcerer's influence has reached now three generations. The current King's mind is poisoned and wasted as is his elder body. And once his son takes upon himself the mantle of rule, his bitterness and anger will only serve Malledine's purpose. He has the boy believing that it is Shadow Strike and not Stormwind that will re-take your homeland. And my once Kingdom will be absorbed and ruled with an iron fist.”
Suddenly confused, Khandril blinked. “Then you know why I'm here. You know what is happening.”
“I know some. This is the first I had heard that a new Arbiter had risen. Before, all I had known was that they were hunting down the last remaining bloodlines before marching towards Zakhar. At least, what was once the Silver city of Caor-Thine and the Storm Peaks. It is now deserted, empty. A wind-swept ruin, it's buildings crumbled and ports bare to trade. For no Name-Giver dare enter the city lest they perhaps face the wrath of the generations of dead buried there who defend it still from encroachment. Or worse, be obliterated by the rage of the Great Dragon who it is said resides within Mount Tempest that rises behind Zakhar. Though, no one has seen Stormwind in centuries. Even before the Clan Wars had the Dragon faded into obscurity. Now, he is mere legend.”
Khandril shook her head slightly, reeling at all the information. “He must be the fourth Council member we search for...” She murmured to herself, her thoughts tearing her attention away briefly from her surrounding host. “The young Morden.”
“His name is Erik. And he is a hot-headed, angry young sorcerer who, like many of his lineage, feels that it is his bloodline that is purest and most fit for guidance of his people.. And he is hungry for that power. But I also know that beneath that bitterness is a just heart. Though he has been raised in confusion. He would be a powerful Ally to this new Arbiter if only she can win his trust.”
“You know much despite your situation.” She whispered, suddenly wary of the wolf.
He laughed in her mind, a snickering wheeze echoing from his wolven chest. “My form may be different but I am still a King. Information is still a valuable tool. And weapon.” His head tilted as he regarded her. “When he was a boy, his family would take holiday. And as their procession would pass he would play in the outskirts of this forest. I have seen his heart. And the hearts of those who surround him.”
“The Arbiter wishes to see the Clan reformed and peace settle upon the lands once again. She seeks the elimination of those who would lay unlawful claim to any lands within and without of Caor-Thine. Yet she and the others of the council have been captured and I fear I may be their only hope of freedom. I ask you, Cairbre...King of this forest and once King of Tul'enar. I beseech you for assistance so that Shadow-Strike may be finally destroyed.”
A long moment of silence ensued as the three stood before him in silent communication. Then she felt that energy ripple through the pack like a wave of psychic power crashing against a storm swept shore. Suddenly, shaggy heads rose in a piercing chorus of howls. The sound was so loud that Khandril covered her ears and bent her head to defend from the deafening assault. But then, cutting through came the King's voice. Soft, assured, and radiating with power. “We will do what we can. For Tul'enar. And for Stormwind.
Eara's voice caressed her mind, wrapped in the wisdom of foretelling. “You will find the key to your Arbiter's freedom through a deep bond of friendship and love. Go now, and quickly. Free the people of Tul'enar from their callous rule and pave the way towards your Destinies.”
Those remembered words echoed in Khandril's ears as she now crouched behind some tall rocks some distance away from the Camp she had been searching for. The wolves dispatched had done their duty and tracked the caravan. Once their job was done, they had melted away into the tall grasses of the plains and headed home to the comfortable forest from whence they came.
All but one.
“There are many.” Keegan's voice sneered into her mind as he gazed down angrily towards the encampment. Riah, crouched on the opposite side of Khandril gave a loud huff and settled down with an almost helpless look within her eyes.
“Then we will have to use stealth to our advantage.”
“We can not fight them. There are too many. Like ants spilling across the forest floor.” He snapped again, a growl rumbling from his chest.
She chewed her lower lip for a moment, fangs glinting in the moonlight as options tumbled through the vampire's mind. “Then we wait for an opportunity.”
Keegan nodded slightly, not looking happy. “They are taking them to Castle Tulver.” a bitterness entered the words in Khandril's thoughts. And for a moment, she felt almost sorry for the once man.
“Do not pity me, dead thing.” He snarled at her and began pacing. “It is only because my family was so powerful of the mind that they feared us. That they could not kill us. Only cast us out. I do not long for my human form any longer. Nor do I long for a throne. But vengeance. Such is a thing I do long for though my parents counsel against such thoughts.
She nodded to him quietly, for vengeance was a concept that Khandril understood.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:40:51 GMT -5
The darkness mocked her.
Alyssia threw herself against the shadowed, obsidian walls of her spiritual prison. Shrieks of frustration and fear bounced back at her, the sound echoing in a horrifying repeat and amplifying her frenzy. Desperate fingers clawed at the barriers that confined her soul, yet no cracks could be found in the smooth face of their perfection.
She had been sitting in a chair, bound and broken as the bastard Pense marauded her with question after question about her abilities. About her connection to the Patron Dragon. What information they knew about House Rhiven and the location of the final member of the High Council.
Unfortunately, there were only few answers to give. For the Warrior did not have full control nor knowledge of her powers, as they were still in their infancy. She had only ever seen Stormwind in her mind's eye, and the images and words were sporadic at best. A tenuous grip upon a power she was just coming into and a “Father” she had never known. But she had not said that to Pense.
Instead she had sneered at him. Laughed in his face. Spat upon his person and quipped a plethora of sarcastic jokes through cracked and bleeding lips. They could not break her.
And so it came finally that the overbearing, portly Lieutenant of Khelendrose had come to the end of his feeble patience and called in one of his Nethermancers. She had heard him speak only once, his voice low and strangely serene. Dark eyes glimmered with otherworldly knowledge below heavy brows, eyes so deep and endless that even the Stalwart warrior could only dare look into them for short moments before she would have to flick her eyes away as a clawing terror would start to climb it's way up her spine.
But then he was before her. Those black orbs searching her own gaze intently, as if he would draw the answers from her lips like one would pull apart a ball of wool. Grasping between his fingers and tearing slowly one shred at a time, then spinning tighter and tighter until he was rewarded with the thread of knowledge that they so craved.
She had begun to turn her head, sneering laughter at Pense dying in her throat as she struggled to look away. To anyone, anything else. But his hand took her jaw viciously, jarring her attention and painfully forcing her to face him. Alyssia tried to lift her gaze, focusing on the dark clean shaven head and wicked tattoos upon it, but they themselves began to sway and dance in her vision as his lips began moving in a soft, terrible chant.
Sucking in her breath, eyes widening in terror as her gaze flicked back to his, she was suddenly frozen. Trembling with a consuming fear that had previously been inconceivable, a soft whimper escaped quivering lips before she began to fall. She felt herself being sucked into those eyes, those terrible eyes before her. Pulled violently and then hurtling downward in a terrifying free fall into darkness.
She had never heard herself scream. All she could hear was his voice, rising to crescendo as he tore her soul from its body and cast it into an extra-planar prison with no hope of escape.
There would be no more defiance from Clan Stormwind's young Arbiter.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:41:15 GMT -5
As the caravan moved, so too did those shadowing it.
The three companions had a system worked out. As Pense and his men moved along the windswept plains towards Castle Tulver, Riah followed at a safe distance. The great cat snaking through the tall grass, her pace rarely exceeding a casual lope as she made lazy zig zagging patterns behind, or sometimes even completely around the mobilized unit.
During this time, Khandril would retreat to her rest and gather energy for the night's travels. Keegan would watch over her as she lay entombed under some rocky outcropping or even, as one time was necessary, a hastily dug grave. Once the moon began to rise, The two would set out again. Keegan and Khandril both tracking Riah's trail in lieu of trying to track the magically masked caravan.
The amount of magic expended on covering a trail that size was great indeed, which told Khandril that they feared something. If what she knew was correct, not only were the troops with them well armed and trained but that they most likely had many more at their destination. It was a force of considerable size. But what could they fear? They had captured, from what she knew, their only real threat. What was it that made Pense travel with such an escort and then work so diligently to ensure they weren't followed? Surely they could not be wary of only a lone woman, even a vampire, following them. There was something she did not yet know. And that thought nagged at the back of her mind, chewing away like an exuberant puppy with it's master's favorite slippers.
A loud, huffing growl broke Khandril's reverie as Keegan's nose lifted from the ground. “We've gone in a complete circle! Cats!”
A slight chuckle escaped the pale woman's lips as she smirked over at him. “It may not be a direct route, but it is easy enough to follow. So long as she continues to follow them, and she will, we will not suffer a lost trail.”
Green eyes turned to study the vampire quietly for a moment before his voice once again entered her mind. “You look weary. More so than last moon. Can you continue this pace?”
Khandril inhaled softly, a rare need that was useless to her other than for expressive purposes, then exhaled in a quiet sigh. No vapor formed as she did so in the chill autumn air as no heat or moisture escaped with it. “I have no choice. But I will be useless in a confrontation unless I feed soon.”
It was a concept the wolf understood. His large, shaggy head bobbing in a brief nod. “I know nothing about your kind. Though I sense a predator instinct about you that other name givers do not possess. I have never even heard of one such as you. A name giver who feeds upon it's own kind. Though the heat of life has left you. Most dead things that walk these lands are mindless abominations. Only the ancients hold sentience.”
The vampire looked up towards the moon as it hung in the velvet night like a beacon, full and shining. It seemed to gaze back at her in silent serenity. A gentle peace surrounded her briefly, wrapping her up tightly in it's motherly embrace. A true smile flickered upon the woman's lips briefly before her eyes drifted back to Keegan. The once man watched her quietly. His head tilted to the side and eyes glittering with some hidden emotion that Khandril could not recognize.
She could not read him like she could other creatures. The thought unnerved her. But no so much as the memory of him piercing through her thoughts so easily. For every emotion she could not read upon his shaggy face, he could read in her completely. Though not as powerful and awe inspiring as his parent's ability, Keegan had proven to be no less adept at infiltrating her mind. All her careful years of closing herself off had crumpled before him like so much wet parchment. No amount of metaphysical shielding seemed to even slow his efforts.
No wonder he and his family were deemed a very real threat to their enemies.
As soon as that thought entered her mind, it was suddenly pierced by a rolling and amused chuckle from the creature next to her.
At some point, she and Keegan were going to have to have a discussion about privacy.
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Post by Alyssia Kanath on Oct 7, 2010 14:41:35 GMT -5
The night before it had been announced that the caravan would reach their destination, three of the prisoners had been informed that on the next day they would be brought before Eogar Morden, King of Tul'enar. Three sets of eyes widened at the announcement and Pauldo entered into a slew of curious questioning. If House Morden was in cooperation with Khelendrose their quest had grown considerably more difficult.
Sadly for the young Argorn, no answers were given.
They had also witnessed as Alyssia was once again removed from her prison. She had been fully healed by their Questors and once again looked strong and healthy. She hopped down from the wagon silently and was escorted towards Pense's command tent. They all watched with deep sense of sorrow as their friend walked behind Pense and his Nethermancer. Her motions were slow and jerky, near stumbling like some mindless automaton as the evil men directed her. She said nothing, head down and eyes hidden by a veil of auburn hair. Their Arbiter never once looked up or even turned her head. There was nothing there but an empty shell, following with absolute obedience the very men who had mistreated her so.
Every time Jhadira felt as if she had no more tears, they found their way to her eyes regardless.
The three spent the rest of the night silent, held fast by the chains of their failure.
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