Dark memories and past emotions flood through my unconscious mind, played back, unbidden, not for my benefit.
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I had to have been but seven years old, I don't know how long I had been there, or how I came to be there, I just was. The mud clings to the scraps of my cloak, the passersby skirt away, afraid they might catch something. I shiver, the cold cutting to the bone. So weak, I haven't eaten for days.
"Clear the area, this promenade is for merchants and their wares, we don't take kindly to urchins stinking up the place." The sentinel jabs me sharply in the ribs with a staff causing me to fall to the ground. I wince and shudder at the pain, scrambling to regain my footing. "I said MOVE, vagrant!" His steel-toed boot connects with my ribs, the hood falls from my face revealing my drow features. An audible hiss escapes his lips, "Dark walker!" His bo comes swinging in again to crush my skull........
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"Brother Zayne, over here.", Father Limen's voice commands from the night. I swiftly move toward him, across the field of battle, the cries of the wounded curdling my blood with each step. Lithely I traverse past the mounds of gore and puddles of blood, the stench cloyingly stinging my nose, making me want to wretch.
I see them ahead, the Father's form huddled over a fallen warrior, bedecked in platinum armor, a crowned helm upon his head. "At last, we have found him, and not a moment too soon", Limen states, cradling the knight's lolling head. My eyes peruse his injuries, taking in the deep, crimson gash running about his abdomen and multiple piercing stabs to the upper chest. White-eyed with fear, the lord seizes on the ground, unable to stop the ebbing of his life-force. "Can you help Lord Fayntalb, your powers are strongest." Father Limen asks.
I bend down, making sure the cowl remains firmly in place concealing my features. "I shall do as I can, and as She wills." I intone peacebly, turning my back upon Fayntalb and removing my gloves. "Hold him down." I hastily turn and place my hands over his wounds and call upon the glories of the Goddess. The power surges through me, mending flesh, replenishing vigor, returning life. The bloody froth disappears from Fayntalb's mouth, his ashen skin returns to normal color.
He stands, shocked and overjoyed at the outcome of his near brush with death. "Many thanks, Father! Who may I praise for my salvation from the abysmal gates of Bone City." his voice booms in a deep baritone. He removes his gauntlet, his hairy hand extended in friendship and thanks.
Tentatively I reach forward, my smaller, dark hand falling into his and clasping it. I smile inwardly, content that I have done Her will. Then his eyes fall upon my hand, and he hastily withdraws his own. "You befoul me with drow magiks! Get this bastard out of my sight before I have him gutted for the vultures to sup upon." Fayntalb roars, saliva shooting from his mouth like a maddened bull on the charge. "I said begone, drow!" His gauntleted fist flies toward my head........
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"Hold him down!" whispers a dry voice. I tense and throw myself against the restraining grip of the undead zombies holding me to the altar, their cold and clammy hands unwavering in their steely embrace. "Did you really think you could escape me?", the voice rustles like cicadas, "None escape me."
I hear the quiet rustle of a cape as my captor moves beyond my sight. "Begin the ceremony." Dark energy fills the chamber, and a choir of unholy psalms fill the air, calling upon hellish favour. "Kiaransalee shall take great pleasure in befouling your Bitch goddess' powers. Good befouled by evil, isn't it just so delicious in it's wickedness?" he taunts.
I begin to pray, pray as I never have before. She will release me. She will provide me the means to destroy these vile creatures and find freedom to do Her will. A bony hand falls across my forehead and pulls my face toward him, "She cannot hear you here, no one can. You are mine, and ever shall be."
The rite reaches a climactic, almost ecstatic pitch, and his face come fully into view. "I bind thee to Kiaransalee. I bind thee to the designs of chaos. I bind thee to unmaking. I bind thee to loss." He screams dryly, his hand holding a magically glowing brand sweeping into view. "Know despair, priest. You are my slave now and ever more. A minion of Kiaransalee and Elaith Cralnawer." The brand approaches my face, the glow burning into my retinas, my skin grows azure blue in the reflection of the magical heat. I twist and turn my head, but hands clamp down and restrain me, I scream as................
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"You aren't cursed, we can help you" Ventor says comfortingly as his hand falls upon my shoulder. I flinch involuntarily, brushing his hand off and standing. "How can these... Crimson Guardians... do anything?" I intone, my voice filled with despair. "My very existence is despoiling to all I touch now."
"Our keep is a repository of vast magical knowledge. We have sages and wizards from across the realms. The answer will be found." He states, and smiles. "Come with me, Zayne. Let us help you."
I have nothing to lose, for truly, there is nothing left for me but hope. "It shall be as you say, then."
He guides me through the city and out across the great forest. As we delve into the mists of a shadow glade an edifice rises before me. Etched with runes and magical glyphs, the structure is as one with the shrouded fog of the vale, a place of peace and higher magic, a guide to the world. I sigh audibly, "Let this be a new beginning." Ventor claps me roughly on the back, "Good show, chap, that's the spirit." He walks ahead cheerily whistling, I wish I could be that confident. I fall in behind him, strolling ill at ease through the concealing mists.
We approach the opening of the keep, crossing a lowered drawbridge to a raised portcullis. From the guard's vestibule, a warrior steps forth, "Halt! Ah, Ventor it is you, it is good that you have returned, the others have been seeking your council. It seems there has been a rash of raids from the Underdark against the elven grove. The Guardians are massing to aid the wounded and prepare a counterstrike, you must hurry." As I coalesce from the mists, the guard screams and charges, "Lord Ventor, have a care, one of the dark elves is behind you!" His spear dips toward me, and I haven't the time nor means to move out of the way in time as he throws it. I see the glint of the steel spearhead mere moments before........
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"Amass the sentinels along the western slope of the grove and the northern vale, I don't want to see the Church of Mysteries bringing their nonsense anywhere near the perimeter of the glen." I command, my voice unwavering. "At once, Lord Zayne." the sentinel answers, saluting smartly and pivoting to leave.
An acolyte steps in as the sentinel leaves. "My Liege, the Prelate of the Church of Mysteries demands an audience." she says, visibly shaken, "He is most disagreeable and refuses to wait." "Show him in." I whisper, my temper already rising from the escalating violence that threatens to devour the Crimson Guardians.
The Prelate, a tiresome bore by the name of Kro..something-or-other, enters the room raging, "What is the meaning of these missives! The Strifelords are marching, we need this region to amass Pax troops for an effective strike." He blares, his fist coming down harshly upon a hardwood banister. "The Crimson Guard will be needed to bolster and guard our flanks, thusly we can provide a united front against..." he drones on. "Control yourself, Mystran. The Guardians will take no part in your unceasing violence. We bear no interest in your goals, nor those of Strife." I answer, my voice firm, unemotional.
"You don't... WHAT DO YOU MEAN!" he screams even louder, his face going beet red. "It is your duty to protect and ..." he continues on, barely taking a breath and obviously not listening to a word I just said.
"It is my duty to protect the Crimson Guardians and the innocents caught in the wake of your ill conceived war with Strife. It is my duty to guard these lands and the font of knowledge held in this keep for the future.", my voice rises as I leave my chair and brace forward on my hands glaring directly into his eyes. "It's also my duty to lead this clan toward the enlightenment and fulfillment of the purpose to which it was first made. It is NOT however my duty to submit to your demands, your blustered diatribes, nor listen to your mindless ravenings about the pieces on your chessboard." I take a deep breath and sit, "You forget yourself and where you are. We owe no fealty to either Church of Mysteries or Strife. I suggest you leave, and find someone else to harrangue into an accord of alliance, for you won't find it here."
His eyes verily pop from his head, his lips practically turn blue. "You drow bastard, you are going to run this clan into the ground. Your kind are all alike, I don't know what they were thinking when they.........."
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The dimensional gate swallows me whole, I don't even remember seeing its formation. One moment I walked the dark alleys, sweeping the shadows, and the next I was hurtling down the long light filled corridor of the dimensional nexus. Displaced.
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These memories and more, all painfully dredged falling before my sleeping eyes in wave after wave. Until, at last, it ceases. In the darkness of my mind there is nothing. Wait... there is something... a pair of eyes, peering deep into my soul. Who's eyes... so entrancing... I feel.... healed......whole.....
Shaken, I stir. "Zayne, awaken." I open my eyes and look up, my gaze locks with the eyes of my vision.
Posted by Zayne at November 24, 2003 01:51 AMI really enjoy your blogs Zayne. Keep it up.
Posted by: Kioska at November 28, 2003 06:52 AM