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Aurelia Bretane · Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 9:00 pm Post subject:

“Countess.”

Corvus lowered his head slightly as he backed a step away and stood clear of the door. “Come in.” Aurelia nodded once, and stepped inside, looking curiously at the garlic braids that hung from his doorway, then allowing the heavy wooden door to close behind her. Corvus stepped back toward the far wall, subconsciously crossing his arms in front of him as he glanced out the window. Not far from where he stood, new construction was taking place on the grounds where once the gypsy camp lay.

Aurelia watched him quietly for a moment, before speaking. “You've been missed.”

He didn't acknowledge the statement. Instead, he turned to her with an expression that conveyed only tolerance. “What do you want, Countess?”

She caught the pat he gave the final word and she steeled her gaze. But she spoke softly. “Why d' ye hermit yerself away in here, day after day, and haunt yer own house like yer some sort o' ghost?”

“Because I am.” Corvus' gaze remained on the remaining vestiges of the camp outside.

“Corvus...”

“What do you want from me, Countess? Something you needed to burn? Lives to snuff out?”

“Corvus, I have been through this – How d'ye expect me t' atone for—“

“Yes, Countess. You have been through this. You have learned to atone.”

Aurelia quieted, and watched Corvus intently.

“But I carried the torch. I was asked to burn the camp. Your words sought to make me a murderer. I did not believe you would follow through with it, faced with the gravity of your request. But you made the request. What else could I do?” Corvus finally turned his darkened gaze upon her.

“Ye gave me th' torch.” Aurelia's words were soft, and subdued.

“As such I am yet a murderer.” His glare bore into her with anger, unspoken and restrained for the past year.

“Yer not, Corvus. Ye were commanded.”

“I was commanded also to burn the camp. But I did not.”

“It was my hand, Corvus.”

“It was my torch.”

“And that's why ye cloister yerself away from them all...” Aurelia sighed. “I'm so sorry Corvus. Apology will never be enough t' say how I feel.”

“I make my peace, Countess. Make yours. But do not look to me to light your way. Never will I carry a torch for you again.”

Aurelia nodded slightly. “Th' others could use yer help, Corvus. Would ye consider them, if not me?”

Corvus clenched and unclenched his jaw as he watched out the window. “I've said my piece, Countess. Give me time. You owe me that much, at least.”

“O'course, Corvus.” She moved a step closer to him, her lips parted as if to speak. But there were no words left for apology or plea. With a nod of resignation, she turned and departed his doorway, a certain finality echoing as the door latched behind her.

Eclyse Christian · Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 9:02 pm Post subject:

“Ye sure about this 'Relia?” Eclyse read over the notice one last time, filling in flourish.

“Quite certain.” Aurelia stood straight and still as she watched Eclyse sign her name to the proclamation. “Ye din't ask me why, Eclyse. Isn't that yer place?”

“Th' city's always been yours, Aurelia. What does it matter if you say I hold the reins? I held them for you.” Eclyse stuck the quill in the inkwell and lifted the parchment to flutter it gently and dry the ink. Silently, she looked up to Aurelia as she turned and walked to the front window to look out over the courtyard of the theatre. There was a quiet determination there that Eclyse hadn't seen in a very long time. She carried herself with dignity and poise, and Eclyse smiled to see it.

“You've changed, 'Relia.” Eclyse stood and handed her the parchment into Aurelia's hands.

“Have I?” Aurelia turned to accept the proclamation and watched Eclyse's eyes as they surveyed her, then turned to look outside again.

“You have.” Eclyse nodded slightly, her smile broadening as she wrapped her arms around Aurelia's waist from behind. "It's good t' have you back.”

Aurelia's brows raised as she leaned back into her friend's embrace. “I've been back.”

Eclyse shook her head. “Not really.”

“Comes a time when a woman's got t' gather her strength, 'Clysie.” Aurelia bit her lip thoughtfully. “An' somethin' tells me, that time is now.”

Aurelia Bretane · Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2012 9:41 am Post subject:

Bedlam had been hard on them all. Aurelia sat quietly as she watched the others nurse their wounds. Rosar looked each over and asked after injuries. All she could do was hold her heavy pack in her lap, clutching it desperately. She had fallen more times than she cared to count, but one blow in particular had at least crushed the ribs on her left side. She felt the pieces grating and grinding against one another when she moved. And so, she tried not to. She clung to the pack and watched the others, and swallowed pain.

Slowly, one by one, they filtered out into the night, with her thanks, and little else, having left everything they carried behind and escaped only with their lives from the accursed library. If she was right about the tomes she carried – and others she hoped had been collected as they fought the grizzled beast, it would be worth the pain. Worth the loss.

Only Rosar remained. Aurelia shifted, swearing softly under her breath as she tried to stand. She shouldered the large leather satchel, laden with ancient tomes, and turned to Rosar.

He looked at her with some concern. “You have enough...power...to heal?”

“I do well enough.” Aurelia knew the healing process would take longer than it should. She had fed once since Judas' departure. The flasks that Jolicia had forced upon her, to regain strength and appearance. Otherwise, she had sustained herself on the infusion of magic they called blood wine. It was wretchedly foul-tasting and utterly unsatisfying. But it sustained her nonetheless.

Rosar sighed.

“I heal slower than most.” Aurelia smiled faintly. “But I heal. An' still faster than ye would.”

The peace between Rosar and herself had become surprisingly simple, and uncomplicated. He had no more slings and arrows for her. Only quiet support. She suspected it was more for her Lady Knight's benefit than her own. But she would accept a moment's peace, no matter why it was offered.

“If you need my help,” Rosar began, “I will give it to you.”

“Yer help? Ye can't heal me, Rosar.”

Rosar held out his hand to her her in a fist. “You know what I mean.” He turned over his hand, exposing the veins of his wrist.

The beast within her roared and lunged. There was no hesitation, she felt its hunger and saw through its eyes. Aurelia was lost somewhere beyond. In this moment there was only the beast, untethered and ravenous. There would be no controlling it – if she touched him, she would kill him. Aurelia wheeled backward, shaking her head, terrified of the savage thing she had suddenly become. She stumbled over a stool and fell, weighted by the satchel and recoiling to fight the lunging beast within her.

Rosar lowered his hand away uncertainly. “It's all right, Aurelia. You are fighting it, I know you are.”

Aurelia shook her head, struggling to stand and shoulder the pack again. “Find a bed, Rosar. And rest.”

“Do not overtax yourself. I am here if needed—and better me than someone else.” Rosar pulled down his sleeve as she turned away and tried to escape into the night air and leave his warm and sanguine scent behind. It was utterly intoxicating, and the beast would not be bidden quiet.

“No. No one. G'night, Rosar.” She spoke without turning to him and retreated into the night.

Hours later, the satchel safely stowed and hidden away, she walked her silent patrol of Ashencrosse. She knew he would be in the watchtower. And likely, he would be asleep. The beast whispered to her. He offered already. Glamour him – compel him – and take him. He will never even remember. What could be the harm?

It stood to reason – if she stood firm once, she could again. The safety of the city was too important to ignore, even for a night. Silently, she walked the grounds of Ashencrosse, lulled into delerium by the darkness and pain. She stopped at the watchtower by the south gate, lifting her gaze to where he lay curled in one corner. She tried with everything in her to silence the beast, but still she heard its whispers.

Where is the victim in such a crime?

Renthar · Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2012 1:37 pm Post subject:

The thought of it alone nearly brought Renthar to orgasm. The Countess of Ashencrosse had led a group of her knights and her Rosar and some otherwise concerned citizens into the depths of Beldam beneath the City of Umbra. From within the library of this abandoned necromancer training academy, they had successfully retrieved a handful of lost texts, which Aurelia had then personally delivered to Renthar. Furthermore, the Countess had not only taken his request for a prostitute seriously, but she had even arranged for one on his behalf. All of this was simply because he had asked for it. During his years of exile in Ocllo, or those darker times prior, he had become accustomed to not receiving the proper recognition and gratitude that he deserved. It appeared his new home would be different.

"Yummy," he smiled, before briefly licking his lips. "A prostitute. And young and blonde at that." It amused him that he would be gifted such a girl after so recently being accused of murdering one.

Of course, the strange-eyed wanderer could not be accused of being idle while others did his work for him. Shortly after the Countess and her followers had departed Ashencrosse for Bedlam, he had made his own secret journey to Umbra. He waited and he watched, and once the others had descended into the abandoned academy, he sought out a young sorceress whose acquaintance he had recently made.

"Was it not as I foretold" Renthar asked, his creepy gaze fixed upon the woman.

She nodded uncomfortably. "I saw them enter Bedlam. Does this truly mean ...?"

"Yes. All of Ashencrosse is mine now," he stated more than bragged. "If I command it, the entire town will hunt you down and bring about your end. Give me what I've asked for. And now."

The sorceress nervously reached into her pack and removed an object concealed within a bundle of white cloth. "Not exactly what you wanted, but -- "

Renthar quickly snatched it away from her. He impatiently unwrapped the item, and carefully examined what he held within his hands. "It's skull enough for now," he noted. "And the book?"

"I still don't know why you're so interested in this," the woman commented as she handed over a small journal in poor condition. "It's practically gibberish, written two centuries ago by some mage of absolutely no significance. The history books don't even contain any mention of its author, this Renthar fellow -- "

Before she could react, his fist had struck her squarely in the face, breaking her nose and knocking her much smaller form to the ground. As she instinctively cradled the wound, Renthar looked down upon her, his strange eyes filled with anger. "Beware my displeasure."

A blood soaked groan was the only response.

"Beware my Ashencrosse."

Aurelia Bretane · Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2012 11:16 pm Post subject:

The scent of blood was heavy and thick in the small cabin, and it threatened to overwhelm her.

“Eclyse?” Aurelia shut the door quietly behind her. Her Lady Knight sat bundled in a chair by the fire, watching out the window into the darkness beyond. Her reflection bore glistening tracks that painted her cheek with sorrow. “What's wrong? What're ye doin' here?”

Eclyse turned, trembling slightly. Her gaze was laden with loss and betrayal. “Is it true?”

“Is what true, 'Clysie?” Aurelia hastened to her friend's side, looking her over for injury. “What's gone wrong? What's happened?” Her voice became more frantic with each question.

“Rosar told me.” Eclyse's tone was matter-of-fact.

Aurelia froze. It was instinct, as fear settled coldly into her veins. At that moment, she could swear she might never move again. Her frightened gaze was caught in Eclyse's worn and stolid glare. After a moment, with great effort, she shrugged off her cloak of fear. “Where are you hurt?”

Eclyse pulled the woolen blanket more tightly around her, and looked back to the fire. “Then it's true.”

“For the sake o' th' gods, 'Clysie, what's happened t' ye?” Aurelia began unwrapping the blankets frantically, finding Eclyse's white dressing gown soaked in blood down the right side. A sheen of sweat glistened on the young knight's forehead. “Who did this t' ye?!”

Eclyse shivered again but did not flinch. “Rosar.”

“What? Why?” Aurelia hastily ripped the crimson-soaked cotton of the gown to reveal a gash on the diagonal down Eclyse's side beneath her right breast, exposing three ribs, like gruesome pearls set in crimson velvet. Aurelia caught her breath and held it – the scent was overpowering.

“Can ye not e'en breathe anymore?” Eclyse's curious gaze caught Aurelia off-guard.

“I can. Eclyse this needs a healer.” Aurelia probed the flesh around the wound tenderly for signs of broken bones.

“The healer was the one who cut me.” Eclyse smiled sardonically. “Yer goin' to fix it.”

“I can heal animals, 'Clysie, I can't fix this.” Aurelia's voice was urgent.

Eclyse picked up a long, curved needle, threaded with two thick strands of black horse hair. She handed it to Aurelia and spoke softly, but with stern conviction. “You did this t' me. You'll fix it.”

“Ye said Rosar did it. I can't even imagine why he'd do—“

“B'cause,” Eclyse began, leveling her glassy gaze on Aurelia. “I was plannin' yer execution.”

Eclyse Christian · Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 3:35 pm Post subject:

Blood was everywhere. It soaked her chemise, soaked the blankets. Aurelia worked with quiet diligence, pulling flesh taut to cover the exposed muscle and bone. She stitched more slowly and carefully than Eclyse would have liked. Aurelia’s hands were red and slick, but steady. Eclyse lay stripped to the waist on her left side, her arm raised over her head. Vulnerable. She winced with each new thrust of needle through skin, but she did not speak.

The beast would be tested.

Aurelia did not breathe.

Still, Eclyse mourned. She mourned the loss of life and innocence, the loss of the living to a living undeath. Her expression remained unreadable.

Aurelia lifted her eyes to Eclyse’s face as she pulled horse hair through flesh and tightened it. For all her efforts, the scar would be jagged and imperfect. “I’m sorry, Eclyse.”

“For what part?” Eclyse’s gaze was still fixed on the far wall of the cabin.

“All of it.” Aurelia retuned her eyes to the task at hand.

“That’s a start.” Eclyse breathed slowly, so as not to disturb the Countess’ work.

Eclyse would not have been surprised if the beast had taken her, drained and extinguished her life in the name of a meal. It was a risk she had willingly taken. The telling moment came in the beginning. When Aurelia bore the yoke of healer willingly. When she did not lose control at the sight and scent of blood. When she wore shame like a mantle, but did not let it bend her as she spoke quietly of what brought her to this – and her hopes to put the curse asunder.

“Who do you—“ Eclyse began, but the question seemed almost too ludicrous to ask.

“I don’t. It’s a wine, infused wi’ a magick o’ sorts. It tastes wretched, but it sustains me.” Aurelia worked a little more quickly.

“But you have…”

Aurelia bit her lip, and nodded, without looking away from her work. Eclyse didn’t press the question. She winced as Aurelia took the final stitch and tightened it, knotting off the suture. Eclyse examined the stitches, and counted them. Twenty-seven in all. They were evenly spaced, but the tension of the sutures was unsteady, and the gash zig-zagged itself closed with puckered stitches and ones that barely brought flesh together. She nodded once in approval.

“Eclyse it’s goin’ t’ leave an ugly scar. I beg ye t’ let a healer redo it.” Aurelia looked to her pleadingly.

“No.” Eclyse shook her head as she slipped a clean ivory chemise over her head. “Life leaves ugly scars. Tragedy begets consequences. I bear my scar. You bear yours. Th’ difference is, mine won’t get me killed. Now th’ question becomes whether you can survive yours.”

Aurelia shook her head slightly. “If I fail in my endeavour, it will kill me yet. An’ rightly so.”

Eclyse nodded. There was nothing more to say...because, for once, she agreed.

Ayana Willowsong · Adventurer Joined: 19 Jun 2011 Posts: 23

Secrets always set her on edge. But none more so than those which involved blood. Spilling it, or binding it, or bonding it – if it was concealed, there could be no good reason.

Such was the case with the Countess and her Lady Knight. Ayana had been summoned in the middle of the night to treat a fever. And so, she'd gathered the basic supplies to treat – a fever. Little had she suspected the source of the fever to be a ten-inch gash to the bone down Eclyse's side. Infection had taken hold, and she would have to open, clean, and disinfect the wound, removing whatever flesh was beyond saving. Then she'd have to restitch it and hope to quell the fever that wracked the young knight's body.

The obvious question was, why didn't they summon Rosar? Gypsy medicine was not the preference among Ashencrosse nobility. Indeed, there was still an uneasy peace that existed between the Countess and Ayana – one threatened by the memory of flame and charred flesh, and Aurelia's screams mingling with those of the suffering and fallen. Why would she then send for a gypsy priestess instead of the healer – the Knight's Counsel himself? No, something was very wrong.

Ayana sighed, emptying her bank box of a handful of precious minerals. At least she'd found everything she needed in Vesper. Now just one last stop in the camp outside of Minoc, and she could return to the Countess' cabin.

The rootworker shut her basket tightly, and snaked her arm through the handles, then turned to depart the Vesper Bank for Minoc. What she didn't expect were the blue eyes that met her gaze as she turned, and stopped her where she stood.

Aurelia Bretane · Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 7:31 pm Post subject:

Aurelia had become skilled in putting things behind her. In shutting her mind and heart to the pain of loss and looking forward with a hand outstretched in the darkness – in complete faith that something would be there to grasp.

What she was learning was that one cannot reach with only one hand.

She could no longer save him any more than he could save her. The net was cast, and that which could not free itself would surely die. The very thought sent a rift quaking through her that shook her, soul-deep. At least she took comfort in knowing that, wherever he was, he was rarely alone. And perhaps, she thought, that was the key.

There were those within Ashencrosse who possessed many talents. But what she most desired was the uncorrupted voice of reason, and truth, bereft of pretense. Of late, she found herself often in the company of one just so uncomplicated. Johann Bloodlute. A fool, to be sure, but one who often spoke with a clarity and surety that was beyond reproach. And so, she had offered him the Motley Sceptre, and a place by her side. A jester. A fool. A confidant. A friend.

Johann sat across the table from her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “The true place of the fool has been largely forgotten to time, but here… time holds not the same sway.”

The fool stood, only to kneel before her and lift his hand to take hers. “I will to my Lady be faithful and true, and love all which she loves, and shun all which she shuns. And make light of all which draggeth down to sour mood, and drop not the candle, nor the torch, or the hot coffee, nor the full tankard…”

Aurelia was caught offguard by the rambling oath, and she laughed, a shining laughter that had arose around them and pushed away the darkness. “Yer a marvel, to be sure, Johann Bloodlute.”

“And I will be honoured to serve Ashencrosse. ‘Tis a badge of honour. My father was a fool before me, and his father as well. ” He smiled genuinely and arose to stand before her.

“I don’t forget th’ importance of your station, Johann. As your ear is mine, mine is also yours.”

Johann bowed low, speaking softly. “The littler birds shall tweet, and what my ears hear, so shall be thine.”

Aurelia smiled bittersweetly. Much awaited beyond this darkness. It awaited, whether she feared it, or embraced it. The gilded tether remained – whether it was strong enough to hold or not. And it would remain, whether she held fast to it or released it in perfect trust. Dawn awaited her somewhere down a path that was fraught with fools and daemons. Whether it was he who awaited her there, or death, or simply the aurora itself, she would embrace it. And until then, she would keep the voice of reason by her side. Reluctantly, she let go, if only to reach out in the darkness with both hands.

Alana Wisperwind · Visitor Joined: 23 Aug 2004 Posts: 2

Everything had become a blur to Alana from the moment that Sir Woody of the Order of the Silver Sword started attacking Dominic until now. She was attempting to keep him propped up against the table when she heard him cough out, “One of you… needs… to stab me through the heart…” Renthar jumped at the opportunity while Alana tried to wrap her head around what was going on. Before she knew it Renthar had drawn a dagger and Alana couldn’t get a word of protest out fast enough as she saw him stab it through Dominic’s heart.

She was kneeling next to his body, tears rolling down her cheeks, when suddenly he coughed, “Di… did it … work?” Alana watched quietly as both of them, and her confusion grew as they spoke of rituals, torpor, spirits, and cures. A few times she started to ask question but they went unanswered. Then Renthar stopped and motioned to her first, giving Dominic a questioning look and he shook his head, “She does not know…”

The news was terrifying and she couldn’t scoot away fast enough, the hurt and confusion welling up within her. Dominic answered her questions quietly, calmly… “I understand that it scares you… I was keeping others safe… We’re not all monsters… Some of us just want to live… I have no desire to harm you…” Part of Alana told her to run, run as far and as fast as she could. The other part however, reminded her of the conversations they had shared… the kindness she saw in him, even in the beginning. It was this part that was further reinforced when Miss Aurelia showed up. Alana knew only “good” from Miss Aurelia, so how could her judgment on allowing Dominic to live here be wrong. Aurelia extended her usual good graces, offering to help however she could as she got ready to leave. There was only one “minor” request from Alana, “Miss Aurelia… Can… Can we not tell Miss Jo?”

Aurelia was steadfast in her answer, “O’course not.” Alana acknowledge with a small nod and a sigh of relief as they said their goodnights and she helped Dominic upstairs.

Dominic did his best to try and reassure Alana that he was the same man, just a little different, and apologized for not telling her earlier. The curiosity increased as she tilted her head to watch as he showed her his fangs and did her best to control the fear. Her barrage of questions began and Dominic answered the best that he could to most of them. As their evening came to a close Alana made a command decision that he needed to be kept safe, “I’m… leaving Nyoka outside your front door. No one’s going to try and get in with her standing there.” He chuckled softly at her, her sentiment, and they bid each other good night.

Agostino · Adventurer Joined: 22 Feb 2011 Posts: 41

The motion of the world rocked him gently. The wind washed through the fortress in waves reminiscent of the sea, as he sat vigilant in the northwest watchtower. Night was a vast and living thing, its breath drowning out sighs and nightsong. Agostino breathed with it. Now and again, the haze of Malas parted, briefly spirited away, and Night shook out her cloak. Only then could he see the faint shimmering stars and constellations overhead. The Queen, The Serpent, and The Hunter looked down upon him, each watching him expectantly.

Expecting what?

Wandering through this life, he had found and lost many fine splendors. Some hurt, and took time to heal. Others hurt still. Countless scars were erased by the tides of time and distance.

He lifted the bottle to his lips and filled his mouth with rich red wine, savouring the essence of the grape harvest with eyes closed, before swallowing.

The gypsy's hands were sore and stiff from the toil of chopping palisades. Bandages tied at his knuckles and across the palm recollected blisters, scuffed flesh, and misplaced blows. A heavy mace sat at his feet, the pommel leaning against his thigh, at the ready. But Night was a comfortable companion. And it had been a week since anyone had dared disturb the peace of Ashencrosse.

Another wave washed in the haze again and blotted out the stars, and breathed anew through the valley. Agostino could not see his hand in front of his face. Quietly, he dipped his torch in a bucket of coal oil in the corner of the watchtower, and he watched for a moment the darkened reflection that shimmered in the bucket as he lit his torch.

Always dark. Always empty.

There, on the surface, a gypsy's face gazed back at him. Dark eyes shining with wine and memory, the reflection belied the abyss that lay beneath.

Eclyse Christian · Posted: Thu May 03, 2012 9:33 pm Post subject:

Terra Abandon.

The air here was electrified. A dream of flight – an escape from the pain. She knew enough to realize that this was the other place. The one apart from her life. Blue flame danced across the sky, and all around her, as she wheeled and spun and danced through the lightning. It was freedom. She was where she belonged.

If this was death, she would gladly accept it.

Memories flooded her carelessly, tumbling one over another. The sword, and the lash, and the lance. A first gaze glimmering in the snow. A life of humble servitude, and bottles of medicine and second-hand dolls handed out in the bowels of Britain. That first kiss - the moment she knew that she was free.

Free.

Eclyse soared through webs of colour and light. There was nothing left now to fear. Free-falling, she tumbled only to arc again, rapidly mounting the sky with breathless delight.

Will you not return? This time, her thoughts were not her own.

“Eclyse.”

His voice was near, and she came to rest beside him, high above the world. She tried to speak, but lacked the capacity for words. He was other-worldly, and beautiful. She stood by his side a moment and watched the lightning arc across the sky. Sometimes it looked as though this sphere was broken, and azure light shone through the cracks, from beyond the veil.

“Eclyse.” From everywhere and nowhere, she heard her name whispered and echoed in hues of crimson. It was calling her again....

“Don't be afraid.” His eyes never left her.

Never again afraid, Rythane. And she jumped from the cliff to fly, not to fall.

Rosar Ashande · Posted: Fri May 04, 2012 9:06 am Post subject:

Rosar sat upon a chair near Eclyse's bed and wearily gazed upon her pale, nearly lifeless body, his eyes crusted from dried tears and for want of sleep. Her wounds had been cleaned and dressed, and she was wrapped in several layers of blankets to keep her warm, something her body may no longer be able to do on its own. Never before, not even when she was wracked by infection and fever from a wound he himself had inflicted had Rosar seen her so weak and so feared for her life. She was clinging to this world by the barest of threads, and there was nothing he could do to save her.

He wanted to reach her, to tell her to fight, that she was still needed.

And he tried, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"Eclyse. I don't know if you can hear me, but I have to believe you can. I have to believe there is some way to reach you, wherever you are, and that there is some way you can return."

He pulled his chair closer and place his hands upon her bed, fighting back tears, trying to bury his feelings for just a few moments.

After a steeling breath, he continued.

"It isn't your time yet, Eclyse. You are needed here. You are not just someone I love; you are a beacon, a light in the darkness. You provide hope where no one else would even dare such a thing is possible. It cannot be your fate to die for no other reason than to be a token of revenge from some madman."

He grasped his head, covering his eyes, as if to show tears to her unconscious form would break the spell of what could only be described as a séance.

He spoke without looking at her.

"Eclyse... I know it is wrong of me to do such a thing, to pin this upon you now, in what may be your last moments in this world. Selfish, and wrong, for above all other things and more than anyone I know, you deserve peace."

He hesitated before speaking the words, knowing well their implications.

"But you have to live, or I shall not. In body, I may carry on, but I have been dying a slow death in spirit and will for some time. I do not know who I am, or what I am, and in recent weeks, I have become a monster, at worst, in the eyes of those close to me, and at best, a child, capable of only base outbursts for urgent desire of attention. I am lost, and see no way back. But I would prefer to be a monster and a child whom you despise or pity than a husk who must exist within a world without your warmth, without your kindness and dedication. To lose you now would break me for all time."

A selfish plea to live if only he might hold to whatever was left of his inner self. He blinked away a tear, one shed not for sadness or fear, but for shame.

"I am not the only one, Eclyse. Aurelia loves you. She needs you. Just as I do, she cannot fathom a world without your presence. Just as I, she would give of her entire being if only you could live for one more day."

The more words he spoke, the more he felt he needed to add, but with each one, all the rest seemed to cheapen. Yet he continued, in the vague hope that if she could hear even one of them, it may provide the spark for her to continue the fight.

"She was here, you know. When I saw her face as she looked upon you, I doubted if even a mirror would have reflected my pain nearly as well. We argued, though we should not have, and it was my fault that we did. Yet none of that matters anymore. To her, your life is everything, and from this point on until you can rise from this bed on your own strength, your life is everything to me."

He slid off the chair and knelt beside the bed, pressing his hands together, speaking plaintively, as one would in prayer.

"Please. Fight. Fight, and you will win. Fight for your sake, but if that is not enough, think of us. Think of Aurelia. Think of the people of the world who have nothing, least of all hope. Think of me. Whatever you can find, cling to it, and do not let go. Never, never let go!"

He spoke to her throughout the evening, his voice crowding out the soothing rhythm of the ocean breeze and the song of the gulls above, ensuring that the peaceful atmosphere she so deserved would be suppressed, at least for tonight. At last, a time came when he could speak no more, and he collapsed near her bed, pulling his knees to his chest, though there were no sobs and no tears. As sleep claimed him, he wondered if that was because he had no more to shed.
_________________
a.k.a., Killian Ond, Oliver Dunham, Iorwerth (ap Gruffydd), Husam (ibn) Sadid, Ortinlem

Chanticleer · Posted: Fri May 11, 2012 11:12 am Post subject:

"Release me. From my vow. Now!" Sir Chanticleer demanded of Aurelia Bretane. His blade was no longer at her throat, or even in his hand, but it was still ready to be wielded if necessary. "Release me!"

The Countess of Ashencrosse was a vampire. She had revealed all to her loyal Knight of the Fist, in an attempt to cleanse her conscience. Which was what would be expected of the Aurelia that he had known all these months. She was truthful and brave and compassionate, and Chanticleer followed her leadership without question. But this was a facade, not what she really was. Monster. Vile. Creature. Defiled. Freak. Corrupt. Undead. Degenerate. Blood Sucker. Despicable. Beast. Repulsive. Darkness. Wretched. Fiend. Depraved. Villain. Sinful. Demon. He knew the price of demons well, and refused to be in the service of one.

"A vow made under false pretense, Chanticleer, requires no release," Aurelia informed him. "But I release ye from any vow ye e'er made me."

"Good," he nodded as he exited the Hall of Ashencrosse. "Now I shall burn. This foul place. To the ground."

He had warned Jolicia, Aingeal, and Striker to prepare for the destruction to come, but they only tried to reason with him. However, he dismissed their arguments, for he knew not whether they were one of Aurelia's kind. The knight then rode away, with every intention of alerting the rest of Sosaria to the town's crimes, and of raising an army to destroy it. But as the distance between himself and Ashencrosse increased, he was unable to push that question posed by Jolicia out of his head.

"Why make the whole pay for what she is? You would kill innocent people?"

He stopped suddenly and removed his helmet for a quick breath and to gather his thoughts. No, he could not risk harming innocent people. Whatever the deception and whatever the betrayal, he had still pledged to protect the weak and innocent of these lands. Including those of his now-former home. He would not destroy it, but neither would he be a vampire's play thing. And even if the Countess found death or salvation, she would always carry that taint of what she had been.

Now, once again, he was Chanticleer Reich. No longer knight. No longer of Ashencrosse.

Paine Drakul · Visitor Joined: 02 May 2012 Posts: 3

*Written from the perspective of Dominic Wolfwood*

Dominic grabbed his gear and trodded out of the house. He had no chance of killing Neira on his own, All of his experiments pointed to his own magic being useless against her. He was unable to replicate the skull either, anything equally powerful would be equally impossible for him to get his hands on. He had but one chance....

Deceit was full of warriors, They battled for what seemed like hours driving back the undead horde. Finally after the waves of Liches she arrived, Riding her undead steed. This is however where things took a turn for the worse. From the main entrance many mounted warriors rode in and began to slay those attacking Neira. Soon all those who came to defeat her were gone, except for Dominic who hid quietly in a corner and watched. Soon the group of mounted men slayed the undead wench with little effort.

Dominic sighed in relief and watched as one lifted her skull and grinned at it.

"Oh yeah....there's my wench...." Dominic spoke to himself with a grin.

With a quick burst of speed he ran from his hiding place and screamed bloody murder. The one holding the skull looked over suddenly in shock as a large gravestone smacked into his face. The Warrior toppled over with a grunt onto the cold dungeon floor.

"Well...that lacked Subtlety....but damn if they didn't deserve it..." Dominic spoke as he grabbed the skull. The others had now noticed him and were charging his way. Dominic made a mad dash for the exit. On his way he used his magic to reanimate a dragon belonging to one of the slain tamers. The advancing warriors engaged it, giving him the time he needed to leave the chamber...and Recall home.

Dominic looked over the skull a minute in thought.

"So... this is what being an opportunist feels like.....Sweet"

Aurelia Bretane · Posted: Wed May 16, 2012 7:08 pm Post subject:

Solace.

Aurelia stepped into the clearing, as moonlight painted her in shades of alabaster. Silently, unabashedly, she untied her dressing gown and left it behind. The moons raced heavenward, and the stars shimmered dizzyingly on the bottom of the river that stretched out before her. The surface was luminescent with the moons, the stars, and Aurelia herself as she stepped into the water. The calm facade belied the current that pushed her, pulled her, urged her on, as she waded waist-deep into the river.

Hands, and water only. So had Eclyse taught her in moments of quiet reverence, and preparation. Pure.

Aurelia cupped her hands and lifted the water to rinse her body, spilling drops of moonlight over her flesh. The water was cold, and clean. It spilled over her like rain, and ran down her body in rivulets that shone in the light of the twin moons. The current carried it all away. Anger. Pain. Humiliation. Sorrow. Iniquity. Sin. Regret.

Regret...

It was the one emotion for which there was no longer room in her heart. What she had done, she had always done with the best of intention. Even now, she protected her city as no human ever could. But, if she lived through the morrow, she would certainly not regret this decision, either. She tired of the scent of death that lingered upon her skin like dust. She tired of the cold. And above all, she tired of the living hypocrisy she had become – making a mockery of the virtues she served. These things, too, the river spirited away in the night, leaving nothing but the calm upon her visage, and the current within her heart.

A final plunge beneath the river's surface left her hair slicked straight, the strawberry tint hued amethyst in the light of the moons. Here there was no reason for shame. Here there was the song and the moonlight. And the song, whose notes she had fallen beneath, called to her and drew her from the river, pristine and pale. With quiet diligence she dried herself with a white cloth, and put on raiments of white cotton. Then, reverently, she donned the brightly-polished armour and sword of her Lady Knight.

Eclyse's armour fit her loosely, despite her best efforts at tightening the straps. The platemail clattered slightly as she moved, but it moved with her. Yet she carried it with ease, and despite the weight of the beautiful if ill-fitting pieces. She left her dressing gown behind at the river, and went forth on foot, bound for the Shrine of Sacrifice.

*****

The ankh stood stately, the polished stone glinting in the light of her torch. She had watched Eclyse many times, but never had she taken up this ritual herself. Eclyse chose the Shrine of Compassion. Aurelia, the Shrine of Sacrifice. Eclyse had always kissed the ankh in reverent greeting. But Aurelia's shrine seemed to ask more. She drew the sword and removed her gauntlet. Then she drew the blade across the palm of her hand with a wince. Blood dripped onto the ground at her feet, and she placed her open palm against the cool black stone of the ankh, painting its surface in hues of crimson.

Then, Aurelia stuck her torch into the ground beside her, and she sank to her knees before the ankh. Here, she found her solace. Here, she uttered a plea for the life of her Lady Knight, Eclyse, and asked for the courage and faith of the Knight whose armour she wore. Here, she would pray to any god who could still hear her, and might be willing to listen. Pray for forgiveness. Pray for redemption. Pray for absolution. Pray for freedom, and release from this unlife.

And in the end, she knew that she would find it. In life, or in death. For now, there was nothing left to do but breathe.