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Chad Ryley · Last edited by Chad Ryley on Wed Jul 28, 2010 8:21 pm; edited 1 time in total

The world sloshed unevenly, even in the dark. Icy cold hands splayed across his chest, pressed him back, deep into the bed. He could see her inviting lips as they spoke, but heard only the beating of his heart hasten in his ears. Something was not right…

“W'ere did Adrian go?” The temptress cooed, but her nails against his chest had begun to bite into his flesh.

Chad watched Ariana narrowly, slowly recognizing that his position was not as he had perceived. Scotch is the devil, he thought, his head spinning as he tried to get a handle on the situation at hand.

“Are we a bit more coherant now or should I 'elp yer memory further surface?” Ariana prodded, her voice becoming more demanding. But it was her eyes that held him. Eyes that led directly to the abyss. There was nothing there to hold onto. The blue engulfed him, and he was drowning.

“He went that way.” Chad offered quickly, squirming to point in the direction of the woods.

“Did he say why 'e was leaving?” Ariana queried, those bottomless eyes flicking to the fire and back to Chad. Her grasp moved him imperceptibly toward the fire. The merest act of glancing that direction had shifted his entire body an inch closer.

“He didn’t say a word to me, I swear!” Gods, what WAS this daemon? Chad tested her strength, pushing up against the hand that held him down. If she noticed the futile attempt, she didn’t let on. He looked around and saw Soren cowering off to one side, her face a sickly shade of greyish green as she watched.

Ariana shifted him effortlessly toward the fire and brought her face in close to his. Her eyes were vast, empty, bereft of human emotion, but full of something more. Intently, she spoke.

“Consider t'is a notice o' yer impendin' soberity. This is yer rock bottom...”

The heat from the fire scorched the side of his face and he could smell burning hair. His mind raced. He had no chance against her strength, no hope of surviving if she wanted him dead. He trembled as he felt the warmth of urine spreading down one leg.

Ariana smirked at his reaction. “Ye will restrain yerself from takin' alcohol again an' ye will keep watch 'ere f'any word from 'im. Fail me in this,” her voice dropped an octave as she brought his face closer to hers, “an' I will floss wit' yer soul. Am I understood?”

Chad nodded frantically and squirmed away as she released her grip. Ariana smiled to Soren and brushed herself off nonchalantly as she spoke to the girl. “Go gather yer things and I will leave yer beloved, absent husband a letter t'at ye'll be staying wit’ me.” Soren ran to gather her things, then was ushered off into the night by the woman whose eyes betrayed no soul, leaving Chad to rummage through Adrian’s crates for a clean pair of pants.

Chad Ryley · Posted: Sat Jul 17, 2010 11:37 am Post subject:

It was later that night, as Chad secured the camp, that he came across the letter Ariana had left for Adrian. A dead sparrow, the life crushed from its tiny bones, lay beside it, and the letter was written in blood. He read the letter by firelight and shook his head in horror. He didn’t know where Adrian had gone, but somehow he had to be found.

Mister Bishop,

Your beloved wife called upon me. I was most displeased to find you absent from her side given her delicate and fragile condition. She will be staying at my expense in the capital until you finish whatever foolishness has you preoccupied. Your room and board have been provided for at the North Side Inn and I will be informed when you are checked-in. I would strongly urge you to spurn any foolishness that is keeping you from her side and make haste. I have no doubt that every second and every breath without you will be agony for your wife and child.

Do not keep us waiting.

~ Lady Lenoir

Ceza will know what to do. Carefully, he cradled the sparrow’s tiny shell in his palm and carried it to the perimeter of the camp to bury it in the dust. Then he set about writing an urgent letter to Cezanne.

Cezanne Abella · Seasoned Veteran Joined: 24 Apr 2009 Posts: 475

Finding Chad completely sober was somewhat unnerving. He never took life too seriously, and he never let anyone else do so, either. By the time Cezanne had arrived, however, he was stone sober, his brow furrowed, hands trembling. The polar opposite of his usual happy-go-lucky self. He greeted Cezanne in the small hours of the morning with fresh coffee and quiet, humble thanks for her coming so quickly. He elaborated somewhat on his visit from Ariana and Soren, though Cezanne knew there was more to the story than he shared.

Even the crate in the storage room where Amdiriel kept her luminescent fungi was locked, with a tapestry thrown neatly over it, as if hiding it from himself in shame. She pulled it out and lay a pillow next to it, setting her scrying bowl, a large iridescent abalone shell, in the center of the tapestry-covered crate, then pulled a crystal flask from her pack and poured its contents into the bowl. From a velvet pouch at her waist, she poured out assorted tiny gemstones, scattering them on the tapestry around the water-filled bowl. Chad lit candles on both of the far corners of the crate as Cezanne read the letter from Ariana and knelt on the pillow. Chad bowed his head solemnly and backed out of the room into the newborn dusk of morning.

Cezanne laid the bloodborne letter next to her scrying bowl and closed her eyes, narrowing down her questions until only the most important one remained. Where is Adrian Bishop? She watched the bowl until the dancing reflections of candlelight lulled her into a warm, dreamlike daze. Slowly, meticulously, she took the scattered gemstones, one by one, and dropped them into the water in the shell. She studied the ripples from each as they exploded and dissipated. When at last she had chosen a tiny onyx bead, the starburst it created flashed brightly, illuminating a pale translucent image of Adrian with his sister, standing atop a black stone structure. Arden was pleading with him, and he, unmoved, stared straight ahead. While familiar, she could not quite place the location in her mind, as the image faded and water ripples calmed to a clear, glasslike surface again.

“Chad?”

He was standing only steps from the room where she knelt. “Yes Cousin?” He looked from her face to the abalone shell and the gemstones that lay on the bottom of the tiny pool of water. “What did you see? Is he all right?”

Cezanne nodded, gathering the remaining gems into the velvet pouch and tying it at her waist. “He’s fine. He’s with Arden. They’re...” She hesitated, closing her eyes to remember the vision. She described the black surface, onyx palisades, columns, pillars…

“Doom.” Chad’s eyes grew wide. “Why the hell would he be there? You know how terrified he is of the undead…it’s like…some kinda illness.”

Cezanne sighed. “Well at this point it doesn’t matter why he’s there. It only matters how quickly I can get there too.”

"Ceza..." Chad began pleadingly.

"Chad," she raised her hand touch his cheek reassuringly. "I'll be fine. I have to go."

Cezanne Abella · Seasoned Veteran Joined: 24 Apr 2009 Posts: 475

“Cezanne.” Arahim furrowed his brow and watched her intently as Christopher played on the rug at his feet.

“I’ll be home in two days. Promise.” Cezanne smiled. “You’ve gotta watch the little man, you can’t be following me all over the place.”

Arahim stared at Cezanne for a moment, but finally relented. “Tell me where you’re going at least?”

Cezanne flinched. She knew he’d have to ask. “Doom.”

Arahim’s eyes went wide. “That’s it, I’m coming.”

“Ara. I’ll be fine. I won’t even go inside,” Cezanne assured.

He watched her incredulously, then looked back at Christopher, who was carrying on a conversation with a wooden ball. “If you get hurt…” Arahim began.

“I won’t. I won’t go anywhere near danger, Ara.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Arahim sighed resignedly. “Be careful, Songbird. Please be careful.”

“I will.” Cezanne smiled brightly and threw her arms around him in a giant hug before bouncing out the door.

She paused on the path outside to turn and wave when she heard Christopher’s sweet voice. “Bye Ceza!”

“G’bye Sweet Boy!” She blew a kiss and waved. Arahim solemnly watched her go. His visage didn’t reflect her bubbly farewell any more than her heart as it sank into the pit of her stomach.

Arden Bishop · Visitor Joined: 01 Jun 2010 Posts: 3

“You’ve got to come home, Adrian. This is nonsense. Your wife is ill, and she needs you. You came here to prove a point and you’ve proven it, all right? You've fought the undead. You've faced your daemon.” Arden stood glaring at her brother.

Adrian smirked as he stared off to the east, as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. His eyes were distant, but focused. Maybe even driven. It wasn’t like him, not at all, and Arden didn’t like it.

“Adrian.”

Adrian lifted his gaze and settled it on her as she waited sullenly for him to answer. “I told you to get the hell away from me.”

“What’s wrong with you? Don’t you care at all that your wife’s off in some city by herself? Your wife and child, might I add.”

Adrian turned his eyes again to the horizon. “She left me while I was sleeping. I wouldn’t suppose that was an open invitation to follow her.”

His gaze was unsettling, like wind-tossed clouds on a moonless night. Arden watched him for a few moments more before she saw it. A glimmer that she couldn’t be sure she’d seen at all. She reached toward him. “What is th—“

He grasped her wrist and twisted her arm behind her, bringing her close enough to place his dagger at her throat. He hissed at her through gritted teeth. “What part of my request was unclear, Dear Sister?”

“Adrian, why…”

“One more question. Just one more. I’ll flay you open, that the ravens may feast upon your rotting corpse.” Adrian trembled with rage and threw Arden violently down onto the obsidian platform at his feet. She looked up at him bewildered, unable to speak.

“Now haul yourself back up on that dog.” He nodded toward the cu sidhe pawing impatiently at the ground as it watched the spat. “And find your way back home.” With that, he turned his back and sat on the edge of the platform, leaning his head forward as the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair fell over his face and hid it from the rest of the world.

Arden shook her head slowly in disbelief, but she dared not speak another word. She returned to Pirouette and mounted the great white beast, sparing not even a look behind as they padded steadily back the way they had come.

Cezanne Abella · Seasoned Veteran Joined: 24 Apr 2009 Posts: 475

Cezanne sidestepped the worn path and allowed something large and lumbering to pass in the night. Embraced by shadow, she rested easily, and took to the trail again as soon as it was clear.

She could see the peak of Doom dimly silhouetted against the dark horizon. As it steadily grew closer, she watched a figure emerge from the entrance, curl unto himself against an obelisk, and rest.

Her step was silent, of that much she could be sure. He could never have heard her step onto the dark stone, and never seen her, cocooned as she was in shadow. But his head lifted he swiftly rose, looking directly at her, eyes unfocused, as if trying to find what he could not see, but knew was there. She paused, watching him cautiously as he searched thin air for her figure. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, the blue tinged pink with lack of sleep. His complexion was pale and wan, his lips dry and cracked. He still did not see her, but he didn’t turn away.

“Adrian, what has befallen you?” Cezanne allowed the shadows to unravel and fall away as she took a step closer and reached out her hand to him. He scarcely reacted. She searched his eyes as he stood watching her silently. There was so much pain in his gaze that she couldn’t stand to keep eye contact. He looked down to her hand, then again to her face, unmoved.

“Adrian?” She reached into her pack and pulled out a skin of water, handing it to him. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes were fixated on the water. He hastily took it from her and drained it to the last drop, wiping his face with his sleeve where rivulets of water streaked his beard. With a long, heavy sigh, he handed the empty leather skin back to her and uttered a soft but heartfelt “Thank you.”

“I have food. Are you hungry?” She offered, opening her pack.

Adrian held up his hand in protest and turned away from her, sinking down against the obelisk again. He grasped at his chest as a long sigh caught in his throat in a single powerful sob. Then, only silence. Cezanne quietly stepped up beside him and sank down onto the dark stone as well, her skirts draped over her knees as she hugged them to her chest. She wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close to her, and swayed slightly, ever-so gently, comforting him as she hummed a tune that was nobody knows how old.

Bereft of his defenses, Adrian openly wept.

Adrian Bishop · Adventurer Joined: 08 Oct 2009 Posts: 95

There was no telling how long Cezanne had held him in silence. The hours had passed as Adrian wept, and fell into the longing arms of slumber, only to rouse again to this nightmare, from which sleep was his only reprieve. And only just now had he found blessed rest. For untold days, sleep had been the furthest notion from his mind.

But now the sun was rising, and even the scant light around Doom was enough to shed light on the nightmare anew. He arose without speaking, waking Cezanne as he did. She watched him, looking bewildered and desperate to give him some measure of peace. As if anyone could do that at this point…

“Adrian,” she spoke softly. “Will you not tell me what is so horribly wrong?”

Adrian looked at her, considering his answer carefully. “Why have you come, Cousin?”

Cezanne smoothed her skirts as she rose, and ran her fingers through her long chestnut hair. “I needed to talk to you. I have news of Soren.”

Adrian rolled his eyes and turned his back on her, facing the sunrise. “Suppose she’s gone again? In her condition? Facing the undead alone, eh? Fending off hordes of orcs?” He chuckled bitterly. “She’s better off in Umbra without me, trust me on that.”

“That’s just it, Adrian, she’s in Britain. She’s not in Umbra. She is with Ariana Lenoir.” Cezanne paused, watching him carefully as he cut his eyes back toward her.

“What the bloody hell is she doing with that filthy—“

“Adrian, there is more.” Cezanne added calmly. “Ariana, she left a letter, imploring you to come to the inn and seek her and Soren.” She handed him the parchment, now somewhat wrinkled and folded.

Adrian read the letter and looked up to Cezanne, his eyes burning with rage. “This is blood.”

Cezanne nodded. “A sparrow, she apparently used it’s little body as a quill.”

“A SPARROW…”

“Adrian, calm down, please. We just need to go to her. I don’t think there is any danger—“

“Calm down? ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF?”

Cezanne faced him solidly, standing her ground as his face came within an inch of her own. “WE are not going anywhere,” Adrian stated firmly. “I will take care of this god damned abomination who has my wife. YOU will return home and play theatre like a good little girl, and stay the hell out of my way. If you so much as cross my path, I swear to the gods, I will destroy you. Are we understood?”

Cezanne narrowed her eyes as she watched his tirade, but she nodded and spoke defiantly. “Fair enough. And you’re welcome.” She pulled out a statuette to summon her ethereal horse.

Adrian grabbed the statuette and slammed it against the obelisk, shattering it into a hundred tiny fragments. His voice took on a dangerous edge. “Don’t take that tone with me, Cezanne.” He gestured to the angry red scar that encircled her wrist. “I will, with my two bare hands, finish the job you were too weak to finish yourself.” Only then did Cezanne flinch, a flicker of pain and fear in her dark green eyes. Good, finally. Just. Stay. Away.

With that, Adrian summoned his own mount and tore off the platform, clattering down the path at top speed, and leaving Cezanne to walk home somewhere in his dust.

Adrian Bishop · Adventurer Joined: 08 Oct 2009 Posts: 95

He could feel it just beneath the surface, threatening at any moment to boil over. This anger, this heat the likes of which he’d never known. Adrian arrived at camp – his camp – the camp he had cleared and built with his own bare hands. This camp where Ariana had dared to lay hands upon his own kin. Upon his own wife. This camp, which that unholy abomination had dared to desecrate with the blood and death of one of the Goddess’ creatures.

Chad stood quickly from stoking the fire, and smiled broadly with relief as Adrian stalked through the palisade gate into camp. “Adrian! Brother, you don’t know how glad I am to see you!” His eyes were clearer and more sober than Adrian had ever seen them, and the long blonde hair that used to fall in oily dreadlocks was washed, brushed, and pulled back with a bandana.

Adrian paused, considering his response carefully as Chad hugged him in greeting. He did not return the gesture. Chad stepped back cautiously on his heel and watched Adrian for a moment, but Adrian remained silent, his eyes burning with rage.

“Cezanne found you, yah?” Chad asked tentatively. “She was gone to find ya. Where is she anyway?”

Adrian’s eyes flashed, and he nearly flinched. “She didn’t make the return trip.”

Chad’s eyebrows knitted. “She a’ight?”

Adrian sighed and glared at Chad. “You can’t take a goddamned hint, can you?”

Chad raised his hands in mock surrender. “A’ight, I get it. Big scary Adrian. Seriously Brother, you gotta shed this vibe you’re givin’ out.”

Adrian watched Chad only for a second longer, then turned and stalked to the corner of the camp where stood the rose that Ariana had given as a wedding gift. He shoved the beastial flower into his pack and spun on his heel to go.

“Well ‘least eat somethin’ before you go, Brother,” Chad called out. “Dir’s been cookin’ all morning in hopes you’d be comin’ back.”

“AM-DEER-EE-UL,” corrected Amdiriel’s voice in cheerful mock frustration from the kitchen tent at the back of camp.

Adrian turned and regarded Chad seriously, speaking in an emphatic and meaningful manner. “You stay the frak out of my way. And the next time you see me, keep that piece of elvish garbage OUT of my sight.” With that, he turned and disappeared into the twilight forest toward Britain.

Soren · Journeyman Joined: 03 Sep 2009 Posts: 102

Casually Soren went through the forms at the desk. Every possible expense she had occurred during her stay at the Inn has been paid for but that didn't stop her from cycling some of her own funds to the establishment. It was small by comparison to her Grace's funds, but it made her feel as if she were contributing to her own upkeep. Hers and the baby's.

A loud slam of the door caught her eye as she looked up with a jolt. But instead of some traveler with no manners, it was her husband. A fact that had her screaming out his name and had sent her half running, half waddling, into his arms. She clung to him with all she had. It had been months since she had last seen him. A fact which was evident in the way he tentatively touched her and pulled back to gaze her, now well rounded, abdomen.

“So she's let you out of her sight for the moment.” His tone was matter of fact but with an edge she couldn't quite place. She knew he meant the Lady Ariana. And truth be told Soren was out of no one's sight as just off to the corner stood one of Ariana's guards watching cautiously. Had it not been for the very vocal introduction of her calling out his name and announcing him as who he was, the guard may very well have already intervened.

“Has she hurt you? Has she hurt....”His voice trailed off as he touched her rounded belly.

“No! No! I'm fine. She's Fine!”

“She?” Her gave her a questioning glance then. And true to form Soren fired into a diatribe about about she really didn't know but had hoped and that was of course unless he wanted a boy. A smile began to play across his lips then as his cold eyes softened and he swept her into another hug. She felt more than saw the tears raining down his cheeks. “You didn't tend your shop. You came here. You -stayed- here.”

“ I can't leave.”

“Can't you?” She wasn't sure if it was the tone or the way he regarded her with that statement that sent a shiver down her spine. Whatever the reasoning was, a coldness crept through her that had never been present before with her beloved husband. A sensation which over the course of the next hour repeated itself in her thoughts. He was everything he had ever been but with a hardness she couldn't place. An anger that had never before existed within him, existed now as he cussed her Grace up one side and down the other.

“I won't let anything happen to you Sparrow. No matter what. Please Soren know this... I will protect you, even if it is the only thing in this world I -can- protect.” Cautiousness and dread began to fill her then. It wasn't so much the words... as the emotion behind them. What could possibly exist she wondered that he would have to defend her from? That thought disappeared into the back of her mind though as she coaxed her husband for the first time in 5 months into a joined bed and her arms.