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04/04/2003 12:43 PM

My name is Arion, Arion Starblade. Once, I had been the envy of all, beloved of the people, champion of justice and proclaimed by many as one of the greatest Knights of Solamnia to grace the world of Krynn. Aye, my name resounded through many a bard’s song as they sang of me, my battles and conquests rivaling that of Huma himself. I was strong, handsome, the Lord of countless land, the admiration of endless women. But I was young then, so very young. Like all humans with our accursed greed and ambition, I sought more. It had been years since I had a good fight. The minor victories we had over the DragonArmies were not enough to whet the appetite of the bards.

They soon looked to other Heroes to sing their praises. Rumour abounded about a ragtag bunch of heroes with a blue crystal staff. I was jealous. Here I was, a hero in my own right but they chose to sing about misfits continents away. And so I sought for impossible quests, quests that many a brave knight shunned. I was on one of these quests near the Temple of Neraka. My men and I had been pursuing a group of goblins and I had charged ahead in bloodthirsty abandon when I heard a song. A song so beautiful that it made my heart ache as from the gentle caress of a lover.

I had no choice but to follow it. Through many winding paths I stumbled, edging deeper and deeper into a dark misty forest that had sprung out from nowhere. If I was sane, I would never have found my way through the maze of nightmare trees but for the song. And there I saw her, a woman so beautiful that all my senses fled before me and thence did I find the source of the song. Her face shone reflected in my eyes, her image haunted my mind forever after. I knelt in front of her worshipping her very existence, merely looking at her a gift so great to me.

And then she spoke. She told me of the enchantment laid upon her by an evil mage. She told me of his anger when she refused to wed him and how he had bound her soul to a crystal sword that he had found, so that she may sing songs of loneliness forever. I was entranced, my mind left me, I believed every word she said. LIES ALL OF THEM LIES! But I did not know then, and so I muttered something about saving her and only then did I see the sword gleaming like ice embedded upon an altar.

In my state, I did not notice the foulness emanating from the altar, did not notice the runes of warning etched onto the ground, did not notice the light from the sword binding and keeping the darkness at bay. All I knew was to save this damsel in distress and so with all my strength, I pulled the sword from it’s sheath with ease. And then did darkness, despair and evil fall upon me. The beautiful woman disappeared, replaced with a huge serpentine form of a green dragon. Laughing, it told me I had opened the gateway to the Abyss for her mistress, the Dark Queen, She of Many Colours and Of None.

Appalled, I cried out in tormented agony as a searing pain ripped through my right sword arm. In horror, I saw my flesh darken as my muscles bunched up and started to vibrate uncontrollably. An image of a holy cleric, sacrificing his life as he plunged a crystal sword into his own body and as his mortal lifeblood drained from his twitching body, pierced the bloodstained sword into the foul altar. “You have unleashed a horror far beyond your mortal understanding, human!” The voice of the cleric mixed with the hissing voice of the dragon uttering the same words. “With this, you shall be cursed unto the end of days until you find the key …..”

Screaming, I felt pain in my arm again as it spasmodically held onto the crystal sword red hot needles flowing through my veins as my arm grew wider and turning black. With superhuman strength, I swung the sword at the dragon. She had not expected such an attack and so great was my cursed arm that it sliced the huge sinuous neck clean off leaving floods of dark blood pouring from the body onto the ground. I screamed and screamed as my arm continued to swing uncontrollably, as the black dragonblood oozed around my feet, and I kept on screaming………..


The lone figure walked steadily onward, seemingly oblivious to the sordid environments around him, if indeed it was a “him”. Hidden deep within the hood were two dark eyes that regarded everything with cold detachment. Many passersby gave the silhouetted figure clad in black a wide berth. Merchants in the town of Flotsam quieted their loud bargaining; men’s boisterous laughters muffled at his approach, women pulled their children close. In the bright warm afternoon sun of the bustling city, the figure brought with it a dark miasma which emanated near-palpable waves of ominence. Even kender, those most curious of races found their curiosity inevitably drawn towards other things, unfortunately for careless buyers.

A keen observer would have noticed the incongruity of the jingle of armour in the figure’s strong steps, the runes emblazoned on the sleeves of the black robe and a long object swathed protectively in leather around its hips. However, the people were too busy averting their gaze, trying to ignore the quickening beatings of their hearts as it strode past, breathing with relief when it did. And so it was that the people did not see the figure walk into an alleyway as dark as the robes he wore, did not see as several lithe forms in black glance around before following into the alley.

The figure had not walked more than a few steps when it half-turned, drawing his hood down revealing silvery white hair that contrasted with his black attire. “You are brave, to pursue me this far. Tell your master he will never succeed and leave now. I have been amused by your naïve attempts to follow me and for that I will spare your lives. Do not make the same mistake many have made. I do not wish blood to be spilled this day…..” The dark forms paused momentarily, each looking in trepidation at the strong hands of their adversary caressing the object by his side menacingly.

One looked to the other and nodded in unison to retreat, but just then their eyes suddenly glazed over. With a curse, the lone figure tore the leather bindings apart to reveal a sword made of pure crystal, eerily beautiful in it’s translucence like a shard of pure ice. Like marionettes controlled by their Master, the assassins attacked deftly and swiftly, shining daggers tearing through the air with speed and agility. Moving with the grace of an expert swordsman, the figure dodged the attack with ease and practiced skill.

Holding the huge crystal sword in one muscular hand, the black warrior parried the blows from his opponents. For some time they fought, the assassins growing weary as the warrior seemingly held back toying with them. And then with a snort of contempt, the warrior weaved his way amongst his attackers with sinuous grace and sliced through them simultaneously in one great round sweep, the hum of the great blade at tremendous speed heralding the death of the assassins. Their bodies were split in half, the blood not even yet flowing from the clean slice.

Six thumps were heard as six lifeless bodies crashed to the ground. Frowning at the needless killing, the silver-haired warrior once again wrapped the resonating sword with the leather on the floor. He had not even stepped a single pace from before. Bending down, he unmasked one of the figures. Dark elf assassins! This must have cost him. I had better proceed with caution from now on. With a word of magic, he set the bodies on fire while he knelt to pray for the dead in a soft voice, bound to a tradition he no longer believed in. Finished, he walked on steadily into a tavern…………………….

Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Saturday, April 5, 2003 2:11 AM]

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Sunday, April 6, 2003 1:44 PM]

04/04/2003 2:45 PM

Finally! A new person with some talent!

I may join this story. I just need a little time to read this whole thing slowly and think of the proper character."Testiculaus Maximus, AnnaNacholesmith Isgiganticus!!" --Magical spell of imp summoning from the book, Kender magic for dummies. Seen in the epic story, Marderfarking Marderfarkers.

04/04/2003 2:49 PM

OOC: **Applauds** For a Newbie, You write very well....My hat off to you My good sir :)

BIC: Kynia StarWind sat at a lone table in the furthest corner of the Tavern. She and her companion, The Silver Stallion, Kyel, had arrived in Flotsom only a few days ago. Kynia was the Current Queen of the Kirioyal, a race of people far from Ansalon, but on a continant located far off of it's eastern shores.

The Kirioyal are a race that started with a breeding between the native elves of that land....and the Irda. Her skin was pale almost a blueish tint, and her ears where more delicately pointed than any elf known on Ansalon. She had ice blue eyes and long silver hair. The silver and Sapphire circlet on her forhead a symbol of her station.

The Kirioyal are Psionics....Their Companions reflect their powers....for many centuries, the companions where either stark white or pure black...white for healers, black for the warriors. Kynia's companion, being silver, lends proof to her power as both. She could heal anything short of a death wound....and can inflict a battering, or a suffocated death with thought....though both are draining, and saps her strength.

Newcomer entering Came Kyel's silvery voice in Kynia's mind. She looked up and studied the silver-haired man for a long moment, before taking a sip of the dark red wine before her.

04/04/2003 5:39 PM

OOC: Indeed I agree, nice for a Newbie...to the boards that is, though it sounds to me like our new friend has experince in this...Wow...it's sure nice to be back!!!

Jorgan sat at a corner table (OOC: ok, a differant corner table then Kynia... Do ya ever notice that all the bad asses sit in the corners? I find that funny. Anyways, where was I? oh yes...) Jorgan sat at a corner table, near the front door, eying all the newcomers, and casually casting an eye out among the patrons of the tavern, "The Mercanary's Meloncholy" or "The Melon" as most long time patrons had come to call it. He was in no way, a "Long Time" patron by far, yet most people knew and remembered him at just a glance. Standing seven foot six, he was an easily noticed young man. Soft brown hair flowed down shortly, coming just over his eyes, held back with a leather bandana, his blue eyes soft, yet peircing. A mercanary by trade, he had taken some time off after defending a merchant ship from possible pirate attacks. That was a mistake he planned on never making again. Boats and him just did not mix. Easily noticeable, he was a veritable walking arsenal of blades, a swordmaster, and his skills were equal to all but the best of the best (of the best of the best of the best of the best... ;) ) Calling the waitress over with a wave of his hand he said "Get me another beer, and send another glass o your finest wine over to that pretty young lady in the corner for me will ya?" As the waitress nodded and left, the front door opened, and a man with silver hair entered, catching his eye...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

[Edited by Glasswalker on Friday, April 4, 2003 5:41 PM]

04/04/2003 6:23 PM

OOC: OMG!!! Great to have you back Glasswalker....It's been a long time :) I want to invite you to my own site if you like....just click on the "Home" link under my nick-name and join up :) hope to see you there. Also, if you have any I.M.'s here's my list

MSN= PantherMoon_2000@hotmail.com
AIM= KaliaMajere

BIC: Kynia looked up as the barmaid walked over and whispered something softly, and refilled the Kirioyal's glass. Kynia's eyes widened in surprise and she looked up to the table that the barmaid indicated. She smiled at the man there and raised her glass in a salute.

[Edited by Kalia_Majere on Friday, April 4, 2003 6:28 PM]

04/04/2003 7:17 PM

OOC: Yeah, it's nice to be back

Jorgan sat relaxed, continuing to take in the scene of the bar. Another waitress brought him his bowl of soup and bread, his simple order, yet his favorite. As he ate, he pondered wether or not he would take a vacation...

"Hey, don't you say that about my wife!!!" came a yell from the bar, as one bar patron hit another in the face. They began to tussle, and soon erupted into a full blown fight, as others quickly began to join in. Jorgan stayed at his table, slowly sipping his soup and watching amusedly (OOC: is that a word?) as the brawl grew larger and larger. Unfortunetly, he could not stay uninvolved for long. Two men, wildly throwing punches, came together at full force, and grappled each other to the floor. Standing up, one man went to kick the other as the one on the floor quickly booted the the man standing in a very seensitive area...and sent him crashing down onto Jorgan's table, spilling his half eaten bowl of soup.

"That is ENOUGH!!!" exploded Jorgan. Rising from his seat, his voice echoing across the room, he yelled "Knock it off, all of you!" The crowd of brawlers stopped suddenly, not sure if the city guard came in, realizing it was just this one, single man. The crowd grew strangely quiet as he slowly walked to another table. Sitting down, he flagged the waitress over and ordered another bowl of soup. The group of people stayed silent until one man stepped forward to Jorgan's new table. "Who do you think you are you big brute? You can't tell us what to do, we'll just as soon kill ya' as to let you boss us around!" Muttered 'Yeah''s and 'That's right' began to float around the room. Jorgan sighed, taking an extra large breathe. He rose from the table, eying the man, and drew the broadsword from his belt. The man took a step back, not sure of what to do. Jorgan calmly laided the broadsword on the table in front of him. He then procedded to draw the longsword from across his left shoulder, then the bastard sword from across his right, the three short daggers from his belt, the two long daggers from his boots, and the shortsword from his theigh. Laying them all on the table one by one, he finally looked up at the man and said "Alright, if ya'll won't listen to me, then who dies first?"

The crowd of angry bar room brawlers quickly dispersed, leaving Jorgan alone again with his soup; this bowl, on the house...

Yet he still could not draw his attention away from the silver haired man still standing silently at the door, who had quietly beared witness to the entire fight without intervening...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

04/04/2003 7:37 PM

Kynia's eyebrow arched in a quiet appreciation for the man....he reminded her of someone very close to her.....

Really....how would Blade react if he could know your thoughts? Came Kyel's silvery voice. She could hear the stallion, which was infact the spirit of an ancestral Irda....chosen to stay bound to earth in the form of a horse, to guide his decendants, snort in irritation outside of the tavern.

Knock it off Pack-Horse She shot back, not unkindly.

Well....at least you didn't call me a mule again.....the kindly insults are getting weak Beloved.... He whickered.

Kynia fought to keep from laughing and she covered it by sipping again at the wine. She was glad that the fight had ended without any real problems....she really didn't want to be involved in any just yet.... She had come to Flotsom to gain trade routes with the people of Ansalon and her homeland....

04/04/2003 7:51 PM

OOC: Hey Palin, nice to have you here. I apologize if there are spelling mistakes. I recently whiped my computer and all I have to work with is Wordpad at the moment.

A man watched as the large figure, cloaked in black, played with and then finished the would-be assassins. A smirk played over his usually emotionless features as the six lifeless bodies thumped to the ground, the blood beginning to slowly pour out of them. The man stood at the opposite end of the ally, and waited until the dark one walked away after his prayer for the dead. "This world may be worth my time, after all," A low, baritone voice rumbled out of the shadows of the alley, vibrating anything close to the man.

"Aye, who might you be, staring in'ta an alley like that? Peoples will think yer waitin' to murder some'on!" A voice said from behind the tall man, irritating his ears. Slowly and carefully turning around, the man glared at the intruder with vicious intent. A symbolic tattoo covered part of his tanned, bald head. A strong jaw accented his cheek bones and goatee. The eyes were pupil-less, glowing with the intense fire of ambition, darkness and vengeance, withering the man in front of him into a blubbering child without so much as a word.

"You do not want to know who I am, welp. Begone from my sight, but rememer the name Elizar, and weep for all others who will also remember," Elizar spoke softly to the man in front of him, but just as a poisoned dagger softly enters your stomach, so did Elizar's venom enter the man who had called out to him, seeping into his veins and causing his heart to convulse in fear.

"Y....ye...." The man tried to speak, but found that his tongue seemed to tied around his feet. Turning, the man fled from the abyssal gaze of Elizar, who still stood in his spot, smiling ever so slightly at the torment he had created.

The man, if he could be called that, walked back into the alley in which the attempted assassination had taken place. He reached down to a cloak that was the least blood-stained yanked it off of the elf who had worn it. "Not so long lived as one might have thought, hm?" He said, looking at the dismembered dead bodies of the assassins. Elizar then put the cloak over his shoulders, over the shoulder-pads of his splint-armour.

"You are an evil man." A voice whispered into Elizar's ear as an eagle fluttered softly down onto his shoulder, knipping at his neck lightly. Anyone who might be there would get the distinct notion that Elizar had rolled his eyes, but as they were pupil-less, it would not be known. The warrior sighed slightly, and patted the bird's head with his other hand.

"No, I'm not. But it's more intimidating if people think I am." Elizar said, the intimidating note in his voice lost, and replaced with a light-hearted one.

"How so?" The eagle asked in a humorous voice, turning its head slightly towards Elizar.

"Sarevon, If I was to say - 'Hello, how are you? My name's Elizar. Will you now please bow before my might?' - do you think it would have the same effect?"

"Well... All right. You have a point. But you nearly made that man wet himself. It couldn't hurt to be a bit nicer, my friend." Sarevon the Eagle reprimanded, but Elizar could detect a faint smile even if it could not be seen.

"Nearly? Hah! Now, do that invisible thing you do. I'm going to stop by an Inn - the journey was very tiring. For me, at least. Ever thought of flying?" The warrior looked at the bird with an exasperated expression, wrapping the cloak tighter about his tall and muscular body.

"I make your shoulders stronger." Sarevon replied, and disappeared quickly before Elizar stepped onto the dirt-street of Flotsam.

The warrior could see an Inn on the other side of the street, and already hear brawling. Chuckling lowly to himself, Elizar nodded to himself. "That one." And he walked forward, intent on going inside the inn..."Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." –Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

04/05/2003 12:51 AM

(OOC: Glassy, where have you been the last two years? We had to finish annoyed without you and so many others have left. Good to have you back.)The sword, it thirsts to drink of man.
The sword, at last must win.
Today is gone, and yesterday,
Must echo in the wind.

04/05/2003 3:17 AM

Characters(in order of appearance):
Kynia- of the Kirioyal race, Queen regent of her people
Jorgan- unknown race, master swordsman of some reknown
Elizar- unknown race, powerful and mysterious, more to him than meets the eye

OOC: Thanx for the compliment Dark_Dalamar20, Kalia. Do let me know Dalamar when you want to join - after all the more the merrier. Great to have you on board guys, though unfortunately I am as Kalia mentioned a complete newbie to this and any help I get would be extremely welcome. To Glassy, my only experiences are my readings and I hope that someday I would be able to write something. Illrayth, glad to have you on board. Also, I am a little busy sometimes so please don’t mind the late replies. Hope you guys don’t mind me listing characters. Helps sort the story out. Enough of my bantering, the story goes on…….

BIC: Arion drew his night coloured hood protectively around his impassive features before crossing warily into the threshold of the cheery tavern. He bothered not for the name of the Inn, only that an innate sense of direction told him he had to be here, for a forging of a few destinies were at hand this fateful night. Immediately upon entering, his keen eyes observed everything within. Two customers caught his attention. One was a young woman of strange origin, in his long years of cursed life Arion had never seen or sensed the like.

He regarded her with suspicion. The other was a huge man, tall and muscular with the developed shoulders of an athlete. Even from afar, Arion could see the myriad blades upon his person. Judging from the strong arm and ease in which he wore his many weapons, Arion could see that this was a master swordsman. This should prove interesting, he thought holding his weapon lovingly yet loathing it at the same time.

Are these the warriors that we need?He directed his thoughts to the phantom being that haunted his mind ever since that gruesome day years ago. Perhaps.Only time shall unmask your preordinance with their destinies.Frowning irritably at the vague answer, Arion did not even notice a minor scuffle from the local patrons. His only reaction as the huge man shouted and laid his well honed blades on the table was to curl his lips in a sneer as the cowardly ruffians slunk away like the dogs that they were.

His smirk widened even more as he noticed the strange woman’s appreciative glances at the huge man. At least their destinies are entwined, that much I know for sure. He laughed silently to himself. Shrugging it off, he walked with calm measured steps towards the man with the soup bowl. His shadow lengthened from the oil lamps until it covered both the bowl and the man’s hand. What be his name, that I might befriend him?His name is Jorgan. And he be a swordsman of some reknown as you may have undoubtedly surmised.

“Hail to you Jorgan, may your enemy’s blood slake the thirst of your mighty sword,” Arion greeted the young man with the ancient custom of SwordMasters.

Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Saturday, April 5, 2003 3:21 AM]

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Sunday, April 6, 2003 1:45 PM]

04/05/2003 9:55 AM

OOC: Oooo...great for a new start! I might join in on this one, but on a side note....how did you get the different colours in the text??!!On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

04/05/2003 9:56 AM

OOC: I'm sorry I was gone for so long everybody, I've just had a lot o changes in my life...hard times I guess, I'm sorry you guys had to finish without me, I miss those stories...(sigh)

Jorgan felt a slight chill run down his spine at the words. Words he had not heard since his youth. It was an ancient greeting of Swordmasters, a tradition passed on through the generations. The last man he had heard use that line was his father...but that was a story for another time.

"I am surprised you know my name, friend." said Jorgan. "I have not heard a friendlier greeting in many years." Jorgan looked up, setting down his spoon, and eyed the man kindly. He quickly noticed the wrapped sword at the man's side. He smiled, he knew it was obviously magic, for he had one also, though he no longer hid it. The bastard sword he wore on his back bore a green blade, and cut through metal like it was butter. It was a family heirloom passed down his bloodline for many centuries.

"Come, sit, and be merry." said Jorgan. "And may your sword never chip or break." added Jorgan, finishing the ancient greeting. "What can I do for you on this night?" he said, yawning and stretching in his seat. "I was just getting ready to go to bed. I still haven't fully recovered from my last boat ride. I hate boats...they make me sick." he said, shaking his head. "Never again, never again." He waved the barmaid over, and ordered another beer. "Get me one for my new friend here too, please, miss." As the barmaid left, Jorgan leaned close and whispered "Perhaps we should watch what we say, as there are many hostile ears around, and people are watching us now. Especially that young lady in the corner..."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

04/05/2003 1:43 PM

Kynia had relaxed and was now going over the parchments under her slim hand. The trades would be costly...but considering the distances by ship between her lands and Ansalon....fair enough. She had actually dozed off for a moment staring down at the barters and prices....

When a Shrill neigh startled her enough that she knocked the goblet to the floor with a crash. A few shouts could be heard from outside, and then a sharp cry of pain. Without saying a word, the Kirioyal rushed from the Tavern.

Kyel stood where she had left him, though the loosely tied rein was now hanging free, the silver stallion's blue eyes where narrowed in anger. To anyone now watching, all seemed held in awe of the beast. His silver mane and tail where braided expertly and allowed to flow free halfway, as brilliant blue ribbons flew with the silver strands. His coat, gleaming silver was marred only by the two thick riding blankets that where strapped around his girth and across his broad chest. whisps of silvery hair flowed from his ankles and hocks, while silver shod his hoves.

The bridle was hardly more than a halter made of glinting silver chain and tiny winking sapphires. The reins where threaded through a silver hoop and where made of finely tooled blue leather. The topmost saddle blanket was a deep blue, emboidered with a six pointed silver star.

Three Men surrounded this magnificant animal, and Kynia burst through the tavern doors to see them standing there, a fourth laying behind Kyel, cradling an obviously broken arm.

"What is going on here?" She cried, icey eyes narrowed.

Thought they could make off with me.....deserved what he got... Kyel replied instantly.

The one up by Kyel's head skitted to the side to avoid the sharp white teeth of the Stallion.

"Yer horse is mad, Lady....Should be put down..." The leader said, glaring at the beast.

"Kyel wouldn't hurt a soul that didn't deserve it, if he where truely "Mad" then that broken arm should've been your skull...you where trying to steal him!" She cried, angry now.

"You have no such proof!" The leader sneered.

"Oh? Maybe this will Impress you....Foolish human...." She spat, her icey eyes all the colder. "I am of Iranthal....A land far to the east of Ansalon....of a race of Psionics...and your lies are as plain as you are ugly...." She hissed. Kyel snorted and moved to the other side of the rail to meet at her side. He draped his large head over Kynia's shoulder and locked his blue eyes onto those that faced her.

"Come on....She's only one....we can take her...then that beast is ours." One of them said then they rushed her.....after taking two stepps they found they could not move, they hit an invisible barrier. Kynia's hand was raised and her eyes where narrow in concentration. "I warn you....Don't persist in this matter...." She said, sighing.

04/05/2003 4:35 PM

Elizar stood to the side of the Tavern door when Kynia burst through it, running towards her beautiful horse and the men who had tried to take it. He had watched the event with amusement - the horse did not possess the natural aura of it's species - he knew it was not what it seemed, but he cared little, simply smiling when one of the thief's arms was broken.

"I wonder, Sarevon, how powerful her mind is... dispel the field, and guard my mind," The warrior whispered to the invisible eagle that stood perched upon his broad shoulder, his eyes narrowing in intrigue. "A psionic... Hm.."

A soft caw was muttered into the air, seeming to come from all directions and yet not, dispelling the psychic field holding the men back. "Stop them if it appears she cannot win."

"Why do you do this to people, Elizar?" The Eagle asked, after it's spell had been cast.

"People won't become overconfident with their abilities if I do this. You make sure I don't become overconfident, and I must do so for the younger generation... Do you not agree, 'shalafi'?" Elizar said the last word with dripping sarcasm, turning his cloaked head toward the invisible avian.

"There you go, teasing me again! I swear... why do I put up with you?"

"Because you're lazy and you don't want to fly."

"Ah, yes." The eagle replied. "Do you think she can do it?"

"Yes, I do. I can sense the power of her mind from here. This will merely catch her off guard, if at all."

"Evil man."
"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." –Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

[Edited by Illrayth on Saturday, April 5, 2003 4:40 PM]

04/05/2003 5:36 PM

The dispelling of her power made Kynia stumble. The stallion's head shot up in surprise and looked back over his shoulder, his blue eyes seeking the source of the disruptive power

Kynia didn't bother using only her power this time, and instead a flash of steel made her resolve more solid. The first man didn't have a chance as he fell to the flat of her blade, unconcious.

Another tried to sneak up on her and manage to scratch her arm with his blade. This time, a powerful blast threw him against the wall of the Tavern, his eyes widened in shock and then closed as darkness swam before him.

The third, The only one left uninjured looked at her in shock. "Do you really want to press your luck?" She said calmly, though she was still puzzled to the loss of her power. The leader took one more look to his fallen comrads then ran.

Kynia sighed as she sheathed her blade and turned to Kyel. She threw her arms around his broad neck and buried her face in his mane. She stepped back after a moment.

"What caused the loss of my power?" She asked. Kyel snorted and pawed at the dusty ground below his silver shod hooves.

I believe that man over there had something to do with it....if not directly He sent, his eyes locked onto the stranger.

Kynia studied the man closely....her eyes narrowed. "Who are you..." She nearly growled the words.

04/05/2003 5:53 PM

"Simply an observer, m'lady. I would have intervened, but you seemed to be doing just fine on your own..." Elizar said in a weak voice, not his own. The cowl of the dead elf's cloak covered his face and glowing, pupilless eyes. "I mean you no harm,"

The large man's shoulders seemed to have lost their 'oomph' for the time being for sake of disguise, and sagged slightly, while Elizar kept his head bowed.

"Bandits are quite troublesome in this city of Flotsam, m'lady, but I am not among their number.."

OOC: Sorry for the short reply. Planning to DM a game tonight."Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." –Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

04/06/2003 1:17 PM

OOC: Things are certainly getting to a head here. To answer your question DarkMaster, the way to change the colour is to click on "Auto Code" in the reply window when you post a message, then simply click on font makeup and pass. Alrighty then, shall we continue?

BIC: Arion smiles warmly at Jorgan. It was a gesture that was largely unfamiliar to the man and to Jorgan seemed more like a grimace than a smile. At this, Arion pulled a chair and sat down opposite the man with the blades. “My name is Arion of the Starblades. Well met, and I know your name from sources that I am not at liberty to discuss my friend. However, between SwordMasters we are sworn brothers and you may trust me, even if……..,” Arion smiled again and spread his hands wide “I may look a little different.”

At this Jorgan laughed.

"Come, sit, and be merry." said Jorgan. "And may your sword never chip or break." added Jorgan, finishing the ancient greeting. "What can I do for you on this night?" he said, yawning and stretching in his seat. "I was just getting ready to go to bed. I still haven't fully recovered from my last boat ride. I hate boats...they make me sick." he said, shaking his head. "Never again, never again." He waved the barmaid over, and ordered another beer. "Get me one for my new friend here too, please, miss." As the barmaid left, Jorgan leaned close and whispered "Perhaps we should watch what we say, as there are many hostile ears around, and people are watching us now. Especially that young lady in the corner..."

“Thank you for the drink, though one such as I require no drinks nor food. My sustenance comes from within, and mortal needs are not my needs. But it is rare to find a warm Brother in such troubled times. And so I shall have a drink with you. To your health mine Brother!” But even as their glasses clinked together in friendship, another glass clinked down in alarm not far away. Kynia’s glass fell to the floor with a resounding crash as the woman leapt to her feet and left the tavern in a hurry.

Immediately, Arion set his glass down and motioned for Jorgan to continue sitting. “Do not rush my friend, she will come to no harm.” Arion had difficulty keeping the huge man from rushing to her rescue. Are you sure of this Master? She is one person only, even if she is a Psionic.Doubt not, for it is the hands of destiny that determines fate. Yonder woman has been pre-ordained to meet with the Marked One. Together, they may forge a new era, staying evil’s hand; (a pause) or doom mankind with their ambition. It is not for you to intervene.

Arion nodded to himself, trying to ignore Jorgan’s puzzled look. “But Arion, there is sounds of battle. A lone woman cannot handle an ambush should there be one.” “Trust me my Brother, Ist Motharis Un Sothar, between Brothers there are no lies.” Arion laid a hand on Jorgan’s. Jorgan frowned at this, but asked no more and sat down glumly looking at the door. Outside, the scuffle went on, a muffled thump, the sound of an explosion and then hurried running footsteps.

The patrons of the tavern kept quiet and continued with their drinks, eyes cast down. In such times, fights were common and the ones who survived learned to keep out of them. Soon, the sounds of brawling ceased and the tavern burst to life again as if nothing had ever happened. All through this, Jorgan sat with an impatient look on his face fidgeting with his swords. Is it done? They have met, was the short answer. Nodding again, Arion stood up and put a friendly hand on Jorgan’s shoulder. “Come my Brother, shall we see how our fair lady has done?”

Jorgan didn’t need to be told twice, with hands at ready on the hilt of his GreenSword, he walked beside Arion as both of them left their table for the tavern door.

Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Sunday, April 6, 2003 1:43 PM]

04/06/2003 1:50 PM

OOC: woops...I guess we should have told you...controlling another person's character is kinda taboo here.....though maybe Glasswalker won't mind....

04/06/2003 1:55 PM

OOC: Whoop-see-daisy! I didn't know that! Hahaha well it's done now, so Glassy you can ask for a change if you want. I'm not sure about how people want their characters to be so would appreciate if they told me too. Thanx a bunch Kalia.Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

"Along the dark and winding road does humanity ride, Tell me, wouldn't it be easier to carpool sometime?"

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Sunday, April 6, 2003 1:56 PM]

04/06/2003 7:51 PM

OOC: Nah, I don't mind...I've done it to countless people by accident, the story starts to just...floooooooowwwwwwww....and ya can't help it. Just try not to do it to much plz ;) I'll let it go for ya, since it is your story~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

04/06/2003 9:05 PM

OOC: BTW, Jorgan (sounds like George-ann or Jor- Jan) Is in his mid twenties, male, human, seven foot six, brown hair blue eyed, clean shaven, likes puppies and long walks on the beach...(just kidding) Clearly a kind hearted young man, and worries about other peoples well being more than his own. Brash, foolhardy and sometimes outspoken due to his youth he speaks his mind as often as he can, yet still tries to respect his elders. He comes from an honorable family who had always served as royal bodygaurds to a king, though it was only a few years ago when the kingdom ended, coming under rule of another king, his family was given the boot (so to speak) His father has recently died, Jorgan is currently traveling the world, a mercanary by trade, a swordmaster by duty, and a scared little boy at heart, fearing he has no direction or purpose now that his father has died, his last remaining relative.

Now then...on with my story that is shorter than my char. description...

Jorgan exited the tavern with Arion. Hand across his shoulder gripping the Green bladed sword he had come to call Vorpal, he rushed to the scene of the fight. Two bodies lie prone on the ground, their lightly flowing blood mixing with the dirt of the street. A silver stallion stood off to the side, while a strange man with a tattoo on his head stood to another, the women looked angered, and seemed to be engaged in an arguement with the big man.

Jorgan drew his sword then and there. The hand-and-a-half (as they are properly refered to as) bastard sword fit easily within his grasp and he drew it free with one hand easily, the metal sliding free with merely a whisper. He welded it with ease, single-handedly pointing his big sword at the big man. "Is this gentleman bothering you tonight ma'am?" he asked, confidence clearly ringing in his voice, yet without a hint of anger or malice, he stood there totally calm, yet a trained man could tell he was poised for a fight. "This blade by my family's honor cuts through metal as though it were nothing but air, and it will certainly have no problem cutting you down to size, if you feel the need to harm this young woman.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

04/06/2003 9:09 PM

Kynia stared at the newcomer for a long moment, then she tilted her head a little, as though she where listening to the Stallion as he draped his head over her shoulder again.

She looked over at a soft sound and saw that the two from the Tavern, the man who had bought her a drink, and the intriging man with the silver hair. She smiled.

"well hello there...was starting to think that no one bothered to care about a Lady here in Flotsom." She patted Kyel's nose, then scratched him under the chin, and his brilliant blue eyes half closed, though they remained locked on the man with the silver hair.

Like myself...this one isn't all that he seems..... His silver voice mused in Kynia's mind.

04/06/2003 9:18 PM

OOC: LOL looks like we posted at nearly the same time :) well at least it works together. ;) Anyway, I figured I'd do an FYI, Kynia is aquainted with Kalia (Crystalamira or Glimmer) Which if you remember was in that story that Pyranthas started (God....that was my first thread....) What was it called? fate of the Father or something like that.....So Kynia may know Jorgan by reputation......

04/07/2003 12:53 AM

She shuffled down the well trodden dirt path slowly, leaning heavily on the gnarled oaken staff for support. Black and torn robes hung over a bent form, stirring with each step. She weezed slightly, a cough escaped her lips, racking her chest, but she seemed to pay it no heed. A wisend and old face was shroaded in iron gray hair that fell passed her shoulders, covering much of her face. The Old Crone stopped in her tracks....her head turning ever soo slightly towards the direction of the Inn, or tavern....by the sounds of it, it was one or the other. No emotion marred her face, she simply turned and walked in the new direction. A man bumped into her...ready to turn around and curse the old woman, he stopped, staring into sightless eyes. Clouded over with blindness, the old crone stilled stared at him, the strange symbol on her forehead seeming to burn into his soul.

"You are not.", she let go of the man's arm that she had held and continued on. He left, somewhat shaken, later to tell his wife that he may have been cursed by a witch. Stopping short of the Inn, her head cocked to the side, she listened for a moment. Turning herself around, she stood staring at the woman with the horse. Placing both hands on the oaken staff, she waited for a spell, a look of confusion on her once emotionless weathered face. Interesting...

OOC: This old woman simply goes by Crone, the mark on her head looks something like the Eye of Ra.

On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

[Edited by Dark_Master on Monday, April 7, 2003 12:57 AM]

04/07/2003 9:25 AM

Kyel snorted and then turned his head suddenly, the blue of his eyes intensifying. He stared at the old woman for a long moment, his eyes never moving, his entire fram seemed to be made of marble instead of flesh and bone.

She knows me...... He muttered softly in Kynia's mind.

04/07/2003 9:54 AM

The crone shuffled forward. She came to the horse. "Yes, yes.....I know what you are beast.....don't be so melodramatic.", Her clouded eyes rounded on Kynia...."Why is it deary, that I only see myself when I look at you.....it puzzles me....", a weathered and ancient hand reached out, gripping Kynia's wrist. "What makes you a mirror deary.....are you.....my searching....decades have passed....", a tear dropped from her sightless eye. No more were shed.On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

04/07/2003 10:00 AM

Kynia resisted the impusle to pull away, her topaz blue eyes concerned. "Are you alright?" She asked, and moved closer to the old woman. "Mirror? what do you mean? My name is Kynia StarWind....." She was puzzled, and Kyel even more so, no one had ever been able to see past his flesh to the spirit within unless he himself showed it.

04/07/2003 10:38 AM

"I fair well enough deary.....I may be old, but my mind is as sure as it was 40 years ago....perhaps more so now.....but you must have some power in you child, When i look in you, all I see is myself staring back into my sightless eyes. Alas, that is none of your concern....for now at least.....", her head cocked to the side. "Perhaps you could introduce me to your companion....he's unique to be sure....and then allow an old woman to sit down, these bones aren't what they used to be."On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

04/07/2003 12:12 PM

Kynia led the old woman to Kyel. "Elder....this is Kyel, my Companion and friend." She said, a slight emphasis on "Companion" to make it a proper title, not just a decription.

Kyel swept one leg back and lowered his head, actually bowing.

Pleasure to meet you Old One....it is a rare sight that can see past my barriers.... He said, this time speaking directly to the Old Woman.

04/07/2003 12:57 PM

Arion stayed behind the huge man as he drew his sword Vorpal from its sheath and faced the Marked One. His black eyes bore into illusions not visible to the eyes of mortals and saw the true nature of the eagle perched on the mysterious man’s shoulder. Greetings, you must be his Shalafi. My Master sends you his regards. It seems all of us are assembled. We await the arrival of the Sightless. She is late, but she will come. Arion turned his dark eyes to Elizar.Greetings too, to the Marked One. I do not know your name as yet but your reputation precedes you.

Through all this, Arion’s façade remained cold and impassive, hands folded around his chest as the wind blew his silvery hair into the wind mirroring the ruffling of his robes. His cold, handsome features were devoid of expression as of marble with one exception: Marble could be warmed by the sun. A slight shift by Kyel earned him the full attention of Arion who stared at the magnificent beast in wonder.

Now this I haven’t foreseen; or should I say, my Master did not know of. Strange that a horse should emanate such power. To this effect, Arion kept on staring at the horse with his piercing eyes much to its discomfort. Suddenly, the horse’s blue eyes tore themselves from his gaze and redirected themselves upon another figure. Arion noted the alarm inherent in the tension from the horse. A shuffling of slow measured footsteps followed by a small cloud of dust drew his keen eyes to an old woman approaching from beyond the dark shadows amongst the alley and the tavern.

And the Sightless makes Five, at long last fate has seen to it that our stories begin anew just as our predecessors before us. Arion could now sigh a breath of relief. Good, now that voice in his head could blasted well shut up and let him think in peace for a change. She has aged, he thought sadly. What has become of you, for once you were as beautiful as yonder princess from distant lands I have yet to see or tread. A crack of emotion split his facade as a hint of regret was etched onto his unaging face. His thoughts wrecked turmoil in his mind.

She doesn’t even remember me now. For an instant only, an ache tore into his heart as the old crone spoke to the silver-haired woman before turning her attention to him. “My name is Arion. And it is not by chance that we have met today. It has been long, Old One and it pains me to see you age thus when time does not see me fit for it’s hands to touch. Could it be that I am so foul to the touch?” Arion laughed bitterly. “This woman,” he gestured to Kynia. “I do not have the pleasure of her acquaintance as yet. But this young man here goes by the name of Jorgan. He is my Brother by arms.”

Arion put his hands warmly on Jorgan’s shoulders. “And the one with the eagle I know of only as the Marked One. He goes by many names and I can’t recall them all for the life of me.” Arion smiled for the first time and gestured to the warm hearth in the tavern. “Come and rest, and we shall get better acquainted…….”

Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

"Along the dark and winding road does humanity ride, Tell me, wouldn't it be easier to carpool sometime?"

04/07/2003 1:12 PM

The crone bobbed her head in answer to the beast. "Yes a rare sight....one dearly paid for I can assure you Kyel.", her attention was caught by the man. "Arion......", her eye bore into him, seeing passed the layers of passion, of life....of death. "Yes...Old One....sadly so. Very well young man, aid an old woman to a warm fire, the chill doesn't leave these bones as quickly as they used to.", she reached out a hand to Arion, shuffling forward, still dependant upon her walking staff.On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

04/07/2003 1:21 PM

OOC: Nite nite people, hafta go off.......last reply for now, sorry for it being short. Can't keep ONE eye open let alone two!LOL

BIC: Arion held out his hand and held the wizened old woman's in his own. A flash back occured and once again he felt her gentle touch, passionate eyes, smooth hands. And now, she was wiser, older but still as beautiful if not in the body then in the mind. And she had an inner peace, the peace that comes when one has attained their destiny in life, attained what they were meant to seek out the moment they were born

Slowly, he guided her into the tavern, flanked by his new companions............Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

"Along the dark and winding road does humanity ride, Tell me, wouldn't it be easier to carpool sometime?"

04/07/2003 7:48 PM

Elizar blinked slightly, hidden by the hood of his cloak, as Arion penetrated his mind to speak with him. The man soon regained his mental composure, his face remaining emotionless as he glanced over in the direction of Jorgan and Arion.

‘He knows.’ A voice sounded in his head, the voice of his companion, Sarevon. Elizar mentally grimaced, and returned with his own silent words.

‘The accursed one?’ He asked, and merely glanced at the sightless old crone who came into view to speak with Kynia and Arion.

‘Perhaps... I am unsure.’ The eagle returned.

Elizar stood for a moment, reaching up his hand in a motion to scratch his head, but in reality, his hand brushed against the strange tattoo that covered part of his forehead and head, and a calm seemed to pass over him.

‘How long am I to call you Elizar, by the way? I grow tired of it, I need to pause every time to think of the name.’ Sarevon asked, turning his invisible head inquiringly to his friend.

‘It is my name upon this plane. Try to get used to it, would you?’ Elizar responded, an irritated look passing over his face as he followed Arion into the inn with the others, his step untouched by hesitancy or unknowingness, such as the others might have been. He knew who this Arion was, if he was truly the cursed one he had heard of.

Elizar continued to follow the dark knight, knowing full well that the rest of his eternal life may depend upon what happened this day.

‘Lead the way, hand of Fate...’ Elizar thought softly to himself.

~The Marked One :)"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." –Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

04/07/2003 8:49 PM

OOC: Jesus!!! I log off for one frickin night and miss half the @#$%in' story! LOL....Just out of curiousity, did anybody actualy notice the seven foot six man pointing a five foot long green sword with one hand at Elizar in the alley? Nobody seemed to notice that but me...oh yeah, that's right, that's cause I posted it......

Jorgan lowered his sword silently, as it seemed nobody even noticed him. Everybody was assemle now, it seemed, and he stayed quiet simply out of respect for the Crone, and Elizar, and Arion...and Kynia for that matter. He was definetly starting to feel outclassed.......Silently he followed the four back into the tavern. "I need a drink..." he thought to himself, self pity beginning to well up from deep within him.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

[Edited by Glasswalker on Monday, April 7, 2003 8:53 PM]

04/07/2003 9:19 PM

Kynia noticed the look of depression on Jorgan's face and she smiled warmly. She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks....not many true Gentlemen left...and not that many here in Anslalon, let alone my own lands..." She smiled then sat down with the rest.

"I'll be able to speak for Kyel, since broadcasting to so many people can be tiring for him..." She said softly, wondering the reactions to those who didn't know his true form.

04/07/2003 11:56 PM

She say by the hearth, the heat chasing away the chill set deep in her. Old one indeed.....too Old if you ask me...., silently sighing, she stared at the flames, seeming to see more than fire. She whispered softly. "Time has been un-kind to me has it not Arion.", she looked up to him. "Or did you think I could forget.....for it seems you forget what these sightless eyes of mine do see....hmm?"

OOC:Not sure if its ok for her to remember, she does see more than normal eyes as it is, I can edit it if need be. :)On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

04/08/2003 1:35 PM

OOC: Not a problem there Dark. I prefer spontainety anyway. I'm a bit tired today so will not be too long. Too much Baldur's Gate LOL. And hey Glassy, chill okay? And have fun, flow with it. It may come a time sometimes when I too will be too busy to get online. I hope the other members would carry the story at such times.

BIC: "Au contraire m'lady, time is a fair master. Lose youth and vitality and gain in power and wisdom. I wonder who amongst us would sacrifice their power for youthful ignorance?" Arion swept his gaze meaningfully over the ensemble. He then stared into the leaping flames as well, silent and contemplative for a few moments. Sighing wearily and nodding as if to himself, he drew a long breath and started to address the company.

"It seems that we have met here not by coincidence alone my friends, if I may call you that," to this he glanced at Kynia and Elizar as well. “I do not believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance,” laying his large clothed arms on the table he continued. “A young SwordMaster, an old woman, a mystic and a beautiful woman. We make an odd soiree do we not? Strange times make strange bedfellows as a certain dwarf I know called Dougan used to say.”

A moment’s hesitation stayed his lips from further elaborating as he slowly drew the folds of his sleeves upwards. “Witness the might of the dread evil that we have yet to face my friends and know Her well.” Arion revealed an arm darkened by magic gone wild. Thick bunches of muscle surrounded his right arm, veins throbbing with barely checked power and malice.

“Yes,” Arion sneered with bitterness as he snapped the words from his mouth both noticing the pity and the dread from the five figures surrounding the table. “I am the Cursed One. Bound am I to my life of misery by the cleric who called forth the foul words that condemned me to eternal life. But know this too. Do not look at me in pity!”
Arion’s voice rose almost to a hysterical tone.

“Many foes have met their end by these bloodstained hands. Lands have I traveled, friends have I made both holy and foul, powerful or weak. And I have learned much,” runes of power began to glow faintly on his sleeves of midnight black. “I have even embraced the ways of the arcane. Oh how weak I have become! Relying on spells to keep my madness in check.” The leather binding at his side began to glow with a crystalline light.

“Rights have I championed on my travels, yet the lifeblood of innocents are upon my hands as well! Women, children I can see them at night when the foul clutches of my nightmares cling to me in endless torment. My wife, my child! They perished under this very blade. I could not………could not control……….did not foresee…….”

Shaking now with pain, sobs wracked his powerful muscular body as he tore the bindings apart to reveal the hidden blade. “And this is my prize!! This cursed sword!!!Rid me of it, that I may be cleansed!” Arion ignored the alarmed glances of his companions as he upended the table in his rage. Before the others had time to intervene however, he held out his hands bidding for silence.

The tavern was death silent as everyone stared at his outburst, and then from the corner of his dark eyes, Arion saw Them. Dark ephemeral figures burst into the cheery room and all was plnged into darkness. “The light from my sword draws them as do moths to flame! Prepare to face the evil! To arms my friends,” Arion shouted one bare hand instinctively stretching out to clutch a thrown knife at Jorgan blood oozing from his fingertips as with the other hand he drew his translucent blade.

There was a rush as the patrons rushed from the scene. The assassins made no move to harm them. They were here for the blade only. Dozens of darkness flowed into the room as they grinned with malicious intent……….

OOC: Whew! Overdid it there, now I’m gonna be a zombie at classes tomorrow. Anyway gotta run now…….
Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

"Along the dark and winding road does humanity ride, Tell me, wouldn't it be easier to carpool sometime?"

[Edited by Palin_Majer3 on Tuesday, April 8, 2003 1:42 PM]

04/08/2003 4:28 PM

OOC: I didn’t mean to ignore you, Glasswalker - I’m sorry. Although, still, Elizar would have payed little heed to Jorgan, he simply would have acknowledged his presence with a look.

Elizar showed no real surprise at Arion Starblade’s behavior. His face was emotionless, but listening still. He narrowed his eyes as the cursed arm and blade was shown to him, and pulled back his hood and took the cloak off, revealing fur covered shoulder-pads over the splint armor that covered his body. When Arion flipped the table, Elizar simply moved back, regarding the accursed one gravely.

Elizar turned around when the assassin’s came. There are not many, were his first thoughts, but soon they began to expand as more and more entered the tavern seeking the dreadful blade.

The glowing, blue, pupil-less eyes widened at the appearance of the dark assassin’s. He could feel the presence of the evil penetrating him, cracking his exterior and interior until it reached his heart, flooding it. A familiar feeling came over Elizar has his heart was washed by the presence of these dark beings. The feeling was too familiar, and had been thought banished long ago.

The man’s deeply tanned hands clenched, his knuckles turning white with the strain to withhold his dark blood. At first, Elizar’s hands began to shake slightly, then it appeared as though the muscles in his body were tensing without his will.

“Sarevon.... get away... now!” Elizar said aloud to the invisible bird perched upon his shoulder. The bird made itself appear, and flew off to perch upon one of the roof beams, looking down at Elizar with a strange look in his eye. Elizar’s baritone voice cracked with strain, and it seemed as though he was about to explode.

“Your dark presence will be the end of you.” A strong, compelling voice spoke from the beam near the roof of the tavern. It was not the voice of a bird, but of something else, a man perhaps.

The shaking of Elizar’s body suddenly stopped. Power radiated from the man, but not the power of sorcery or magic, nor physical power, but dark, demonic power. The rune upon his head glowed a slight red as he raised his eyes to meet on of the dark assassin’s. He ignored any looks of surprise that may have been directed at him.

“Behold your doom, dark ones, for your master stands before you. Elizar, Misbegotten son of the Demon Lord Xenath, The Marked One, will destroy you!” The bird roared from the rafters, white energy surrounding it in a protective barrier as it watched, still with the strange look in his eyes whenever he looked in Elizar’s direction.

The Demonspawn said nothing, his face grim, his eyes filled with anger and other unrecognizable, intense emotions.

“The threads of fate have been spun this day, and you will not be the one to cut them. I have waited many years to find a soul worth saving, and you will not take him from me!” The mighty warrior’s face contorted into a mix between regret and vengefulness, when he reached up into the air with both hands and clasped them as if hanging onto the handle of something.

“Cleansing fire, I summon you!” He roared, and pulled down his hands in front of him. A trail of fire followed his hands - first a handle, then a crossguard, and then a long, beautifully etched silver blade. Flames licked the sides of the sword, radiating fire from it. He held the sword toward one of the assassin’s.

“Surrender or die.”

OOC: I apologize for being so melodramatic, had to get it the introduction done with, and I figured now was a good a time as any."Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." –Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

[Edited by Illrayth on Tuesday, April 8, 2003 4:30 PM]

04/08/2003 5:18 PM

Kynia had lept up from her chair, her form nothing more than a blur of silver tresses and blue cloth as her cloak swirled around her. She had pulled her sword free, the slender blade glowing in the firelight.

One of the assasins screeched in a ball of flame....summoned by a thought and fueled by anger. Another came up from behind, this time managing to draw blood. Kynia cried out in pain as a deep cut was made in her sword arm, and her sword clattered to the floor, the star sapphire in the hilt gleaming in the dull light.

She had backed up, her mind struggling past the pain in her arm....as she realized it had to have been a tainted blade. The one that had drawn her blood cornered her, and her vision blurred. She had a dagger in her hands, and threw it, but it missed the true mark, and only lodged itself into the assasin's leg.

With a scream of rage unheard of from such a beast, Kyel burst through the door, his silver shod hoves splintering the wood. He crashed through the tavern, and slammed into the assasin bodily, crushing the dark one's ribcage.....as Kynia slid to the floor.

M'Lady! came the neigh filled with panic. Kynia reached for him but her form was wracked with shivers. He lowered his head and pressed his muzzle to the wound....as their minds linked....

To any who would look upon them now, would see Kynia there, her face pale and ashen....eyes glazed...and the Stallion with his nose to her wound. But then, as though their eyes where tricking them, they saw a second image, a young man, with blue tinged skin, and long flowing silver hair...dressed in silver and blue, knelt beside the fallen woman, his hands staunching the wound.

Kynia's mind spun...she had never attempted to heal herself, and it was becoming increasingly hard to concentrate....Kyel's voice was getting fainter. The blood in her veins moved sluggishly as the poison worked through her system...yet with Kyel's help, she pushed them away, back towards the wound....filtering her blood...pushing the toxin out...

The ghostly image of the young man removed his hands, and dabbed at the wound as a sickly black substance flowed free from the wound....as color came back to Kynia's cheeks. She still shook, but now it was from the healing, and the shock. She Tore an edge off of her cloak, and wraped her arm in it.

Kyel snorted and backed up, the double vision of the horse and the young man now faded to those who watched, and now only the stallion remained. He shook his head and then turned, his azure eyes locked on the battle going on behind them.

04/09/2003 10:08 AM

She shuddered as the darkness grew in the tavern. "And just how do they expect an old woman to defend herself in this....", a rueful smile crossed her lips, the majority of her teeth still intact. Standing, she felt the air stir at her neck, turning sharply, a speed that belied her age, the oaken staff clashed with the assaulting party. Her hand reached out, gripping the dark assassin by the arm, he stared into her eyes, noting she was blind....she moved again, behind him, whispering in his ear......the creature screamed, something in-humane, other worldly.....no mortal should ever have had to scream like that, nor hear what she had whispered. Some secrets were not meant for the mind of others.

Then she stood after ramming the butt of her staff through the beings skull. Turning once more, she sat back down, gasping, clutching her chest.On the wings of heaven does my spirit soar high,
Under the ocean does my heart swim free,
In the bones of the earth does my mind lie secure,
And in the pit of fire....my passion burns forever.

04/09/2003 7:53 PM

OOc: Hey, I didn't mean to sound mad eatlier...I was laughing as i typed, i know everybody takes time off of the site...we all have real lives;) (I hope)

Jorgan sat at he table quietly, the kiss stiring his emotions slightly..."Try to concentrate." he told himself...

He listened to the tale of Arion, awestruck, fear slowly creeping into his heart. "It is true..." he thought to himself. ""I am the only normal man here." He thought smugly. "I'm not psionic, I'm not blind, I'm not....well, a pupil-less bald guy with a tattoo on my head, and I don't possess the RIGHT HAND OF DOOM'...I'm just a normal everyday guy...Damn, I never realized just how much I KICK ASS!"
Jorgan was begining to smile, his mood lifting, When the dark assassins poured into the room. Everybody sprang into action quickly, the table turning over, assassins erupting into flame, blades clashing, birds screaming, all before Jorgan had even risen from his seat.

In the middle of the action he stood. He popped his neck, flexed his shoulders, and drew Vorpal. As the first (well, HIS first) assassin attacked him, Jorgan parried with his blade, Vorpal easily slicing straight through the assassin's short sword just as he had told Elizar it would. With a quick twist of his wrist, the sword found it's way to the man's throat. "One down" he smirked. "Not even a sweat." Two more were coming at him, one from each side. Jorgan gripped the blade with both hands now, swinging crosswise with all his might, the first assassin falling into two peices. The problem came when Jorgan found his great blade stuck halfway through the second man's side. 'Damn it, ok....plan two." He pushed the quickly dying body away from him, sword and all, and drew his short sword from his theigh. The next Dark Elf (These are dark elves again, right?) came at him with a short sword in each hand, swinging the blades deftly. "Oh, not fair..." Jorgan parryed the two blades with ease, and plunged the sword into the elf's heart. "Four." He counted, his thought only detered a moment as Kynia's horse broke through the door. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed Kynia down, turning pale. The wave of assassins was dwindling quickly between the five in the room. Jorgan found himself torn between his thrill of swordplay, and his concern for his new friend. His debate was quickly solved though, as he was acosted by two assassins once again. This time they had both moved up to longswords. His favorite blade. Jorgan smiled, and tossed the short sword to the ground. Reaching behind him he drew out his own long sword. As they attacked, he parryed easily, driving one elf's sword into the wooden floor, and disarming the other. He then backed off, clearly not intent on slaying an unarmed man. Yet still, neither attacker would stop, both drawing daggers from under their black cloaks.

Jorgan became enraged, he had given them their life, yet to no avail. They died shortly after their ill fated attack, precious life-blood oozing from diced bodies onto the wooden floor. Jorgan had had enough of this fighting. He drew his broadsword now also, sword to each hand, and walked a path of death straight through the room. Only a select few were left, all engaged with the other two members of his team. "Thirteen. What an unlucky number." He thought, totaling his kills. Now, do I help them, or let them finish off their oppenents by themselves? Do I try to defend Kynia, or let her horse do it?" he questioned himself. "Well, I should at least try to help, though I wouldn't want to steal their glory..." He thought, eying Elizar and Arion. "And I don't feel like getting my ass kicked by her horse if he's feeling overly protective..." Finally he decided, as he walked towards the blind woman, intent on defending her.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

[Edited by Glasswalker on Wednesday, April 9, 2003 8:04 PM]

04/10/2003 4:00 PM

Elizar stood in the middle of the battleground of the tavern, blood sizzling upon his flaming sword, eyes blazing through the dead bodies that lay scattered about him. He smirked slightly at the great display of strength, courage and skill shown by the other members of the party. He regretted what he had to do.

Stopping, ignoring any standing enemies that may be left around him to be dealt with by Jorgan, Elizar spread out his hands around him, letting a transparent blue shield cover his body where he stood.

The spherical shield glowed slightly in the candle-lit tavern, illuminating more of the room.

‘ Arion Starblade, here is the point where I must part with you. I have done my part in your prophecy. I have pushed it in it’s direction, but that is where my job ends, for now. Upon your travels, you will meet a boy, slowly approaching manhood. I do not know his name - such things are not entrusted to me, because names can be very dangerous. Take him with you. You will undoubtably know when you find him, just listen for song of power.’

A voice emanated into Arion’s head, intruding into his thought, and it was the voice of Elizar, the demon son.

“Destiny shall be fulfilled.” Were the warrior’s last words, disappearing into a haze of black and red smoke.

OOC: See you all soon :)"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." –Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

04/12/2003 7:45 AM

OOC: I am so sorry guys for the long dissapearance. I have exams looming around the horizon and let's just say a certain guy has not prepared yet. ;-) So I hope that you guys can carry the story on if not can you please wait a while? Thanks for the understanding shouldn't take more than a few days. See you guys later........Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms,
Keep me safe from harm, in the pouring rain,
Give me endless summer, Lord I feel the cold,
Feel I'm getting old, before my time..........

"Along the dark and winding road does humanity ride, Tell me, wouldn't it be easier to carpool sometime?"

04/12/2003 7:56 AM

Kynia stood with Kyel's help, and with this contact, the last of her strength was restored. She looked to the goup and the wrekage of the tavern.

"I should think that we'd be better off in a camp, outside of the town...." She muttered and Kyel snorted indignantly.

04/13/2003 6:43 PM

"I agree," said Jorgan, wiping blood from his swords in the aftermath of the fight. "I for one cannot afford to pay for the damages, and I think when the owner sees your horse standing in the middle of the room, he'll be even more ticked off." Jorgan chuckled. "But now there is just four of us...what should our next move be? I think we should load up and at least get out of town, and quick."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the forces of evil become lost on the way to your house

04/13/2003 7:29 PM

Kyel tossed his head and fixed his blue eyes onto Jorgan for a moment before nosing Kynia's arm and then picking his way through the wreakage, giving his silver tail a flick as he dissapeared through the door.

"Come on...I have a camp waiting just outside of the villiage...we'll be better off there...." She said and then pulled her purse off of her belt. Writing in a careful script, she tied a small piece of parchment to the purse, and set it on the bar.

Forgive the damages good sir, I believe this will be more than enough to cover it...

Lady Kynia

She smiled and then left the Inn, hoping the rest would follow her.

04/14/2003 9:33 AM

Crone pushed herself up from the chair, leaning heavily on the oaken staff. Her feet shuffled as she followed Kynia out of the Inn...."I could use some sleep....yes...", she muttered something, more so to herself than anyone else around her. In life there is torment...

In death there is passion...

and In chocolate there is yummy badness...

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