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.
Through the maze of the dark corridors which mar the Underdark like a hive, I wandered, lost. This place used to be my home, yet everything is now so unfamiliar. Perhaps it is my own depression which fogs my senses, blanketing the familiar in obscurity, regardless I wind my way onward.
My wounds have healed slowly, the draining affects finally dwindling. Yet, I feel detached from it all, the purpose of anything anymore is beyond me now. I haven't eaten in what must be days, and the meager water I have been able to find had an unappetizing scent about it, the sulfurous rotten egg smell that curdles the stomach. I must be a fright to behold, caked in blood and mud, assorted scrapes and scuffs marring my skin, rancorous odor, heavy sleep-deprived eyes festering in my drawn face. I had occassion to suprise a goblin once as I happened about a dark turn. The mere sight of me sent the disgusting creature screaming back down the way it had come.
Perhaps it is for the best, for I haven't really got the spirit within me to fight or go on much farther now anyway. I move of a force beyond anything I can relate to. I seem drawn in this direction, though I know not why. It doesn't really matter. I'm nothing more than a living zombie, reanimated to some unknown purpose, a drone mindlessly trodding onward.
I don't know how long I walked the caverns, it all seems to bleed together in the end. I found myself at a climbing precipise. My fingers bled as the sharp rocks dug into flesh, the handholds barely supporting my weight as I ascended. I mused the result of falling from the rocky cliff, but decided not to bother, and continued to climb. Higher and higher I went, reaching the rocky supports.
Feeling about I found nothing but sharp rock and glistening trails of water. I inched across the crevice, feeling above me as I went, until finally I came to what felt to be a deep jagged scar running through the ceiling. I inched forward, squeezing through the hole and into a cave.
The darkness is not nearly so pervasive here, perhaps this cave has an outlet to the surface. Curiously, the scent of extinguished candles and incense assail my nose, drawing me onward. My feet are leaded, dragging behind me. I am so tired, so broken, so... I turn a corner, lose my balance and fall roughly to the gravel, scraping up my face. The warm trickle of newly drawn blood courses down my nose. I am too weak to even rise anymore. The thought occurs to me that this place is as good a place to die as any, and I close my eyes, and wait.
Time moves on, who knows how long. I think I hear the sound of boots walking across stone, though in my delirium I cannot be certain. "What have we here?" a gruff voice demands. "Indeed, it appears we have an intruder to deal with.", answers a second. The ring of steel leaving scabbard rings down upon me, the footsteps begin a measured advance toward me. "So this is how it ends.", I think to myself, the darkening grip of loss of consciousness stealing into the sides of my awareness once again.
I think I hear a third voice, was it a woman's?, cry "Seneschals, Hold!" But the darkness takes hold, death is near, death is welcome.
Devoid. I am empty, my soul is bereft of joy without Her loving grace. I am nothing. The tears continue to stream down my cheeks. I have lost all track of time. Weary and drained I slump against the back of the cave, depressed.
Their eyes mock me. Maybe I should just relent, let them win. Without the joy She brings to my life, what is the reason to exist and go on? What purpose do I have? The stirges have a purpose for me, I could sustain them.
But what of my soul. Without Her, where would my soul go? Am I doomed to Perdition, unclaimed, with no access to the promised Heavens? Cast and abandoned to the darkness, wallowing in the mire, a ghost to the realms. Doomed, outcast, rejected!
"No!", I scream in released rage, "If you will not have me, Eilistraee, then I shall not have you!" The anger seethes within me, building, strengthening me, but the emptiness remains inside.
I am drow. I was drow long before I walked the path. I am drow still.
My eyes narrow archly, I wipe the tears from my face and stand, hefting my mace. My teeth grit as I walk to the opening, the stirges take flight in anticipation of an opening for attack.
"Face me wraith birds. Face me and DIE!", I scream as I jump from the opening, tapping into the innate ability of my race and levitating to the ceiling. The birds, shocked by my sudden aggression, fly to the far side of the cavern, flitting amongst the stalactite teeth, building up the confidence, and then attacking in force. I wait.
They are but meters away when I limne their small forms in faerie fire, the dazzling flames sending many of them into frantic flight away from the melee. The remainder close with me, swooping and piercing my flesh, while I dodge and maneuver to keep them at bay. My mace downs several, but the recent pain and sorrow has leeched much of my strength, and my swings grow haphazard.
I fly toward the floor, as quickly as possibly, drop a cloud of darkness about the sharp stalagmites jutting from the ground and steeply climb. The ravenous birds, driven by blood fury, fly after me, into the dark cloud. Were they not lost in the depths of hunger, they well may have discovered the folly of their course, but as it is, they did not. The remainder of the flock struck the ground with deafening thuds, some impaling themselves upon the stoney jaws.
I return to the cavern floor, spent. My enemies are vanquished. My wounds seep freely from the rented punctures in my leather armor, the blood refusing to coagulate due to the cursed saliva of the birds. I collapse, torn, empty, rejected, but victorious.
"Time to remedy this situation," I murmur to myself as I delve into the depths of my mind to tap into the miracle that is my communion with my god. I race along the catalogue of mysteries which Her divine love has enlightened me to, settling upon a simple continual light spell to frighten off the horde of dark-dwelling beasts.
I seek the inner peace, where I can be most attuned to the wielding of the divine power. I am the conduit of Her wrath, the focal of Her whim. I confidently open my eyes. I speak the Word...
and...
"What is this!", I gasp loudly, flabbergasted at the impenetrable darkness that continues to devour the cavern. "How can this be?"
Uncertain if I had mispoken, erroniously mishaping the intent of the miracle, I try again. Opening my soul to the beauty that is Her love, calling upon Her divine glory to look down upon me and direct Her power. Again, I open my eyes and speak the Word.
and...
Nothing. The void remains. The darkness taunts me. The power is gone. The connection is gone. I am alone. I am ... abandoned!
"Eilistraee, what have I done for you to forsake me!" I scream, tears running down my face. The despair of my cry echoes across the cavern, causing the stirges to shuffle about wistfully, their beady eyes intent upon me.
"What can I do?" The stirges wait, undaunted by my folly.