He awoke, startled. Sunlight was barely on the horizon, peeking into his tent, grating his eyes like shards leftover from a newly forged knife. He shifted slightly, cursing under his breath the rocky ground. A screech came....a hawk....probably what had awakened him in the first place. Christophen slowly sat up, his breath forming a small cloud in the early morning air. He coughed, clearing the thick yellow from his lungs...he prayed it would soon pass. It seemed one always vows to not forget what being healthy feels like, when one is sick. He spit, the yellow flying out of the tent and onto the ground. He slowly clambered out of the tent, and begin the process of clearing any signs that he had been here.
Lost. He knew where he was....but still...lost. Belara and Gratlan were gone. He would never see them again. The slavers could have gone in any direction, after they left the desert. He had searched for weeks along the edge, hoping to regain the trail...but to no avail. He could never go back home. They were lost, probably rowing on a ship, or even worse, taken under to the dark skinned. Lost.
He slowly tied the canvass bundle to his back. It had not been his choice...this place. But now it was necessary. The people here eyed him askance....he would be glad to move again. He frowned. The taker of children kept him...those that had forced him to stay kept him. He looked forward to getting his belongings back...it wasn't a question of if...but a question of must.
Slowly striding away from the Teshmere, he looked over his shoulder at the tree. He snarled slightly...to think that one could be thinking of home...he began to mutter to himself. "Home...en ere be othas taken frem eres...but all ey do es sit aroond an wait fer em ta strick agin...helpless buncha...." Images raced through his head. He was not liked, but he was not here to make friends. He had business here, which must be done. Mismanagement, she had called it.....he laughed quietly to himself. That was understating the mess he had witnessed. Partly his own fault...but he had been under the impression that these...elves..knew what they were about. He couldn't count all of the mistakes made on both hands. He strode onward toward White Chalk.
No signals...the other two had been deaf as a dwarf during Sheildmeet. At least the prankster had good ears, and enough sense to follow what she heard....the others just busied themselves with ransacking the camp. Blind...they didn't see that the camp wasn't going anywhere...
He frowned. No sense in blame. It was done. Not to be repeated...even if he had to take them by the scruff of the neck. He frowned deeper....the braided one used magicks. And liked to push her weight around. Telling him to cushion his words, to coddle them like babes in a crib. The truth was the truth....friends? Down in his core, he knew he could not afford them...every friend he had ever had had been taken before their time. Because he HAD been soft on them.
He peered at the wolf, clambering down a slope, in search of it's morning rabbit. He smiled softly...nature was a hard mistress....no forgiveness and lessons taught with pain. But then, someone who had had their nose in a book all of their life wouldn't begin to understand. There was no room for niceties...it surprised him that she was ranking in the malitia....was the rest of the malitia as soft? As easily offended? Who were their superiors, the ones whose job it was to instill a backbone?
He passed the small pond where he often sat. A bluebird chirped, bobbing its head and looking down. His mistakes....were plentiful. But he was quick to learn...he would need light. This wasn't the snowlands he was used to...or the desert for that matter... this place required light in the dark... his failure.
He stopped, making his mind up. She would not like him. She did not need to. He was not here to be liked. He was here to do a job....a job the rest of them seemed happy to ignore. He wound his way toward the walls of White Chalk....to once again scout the surrounding countryside, looking for fresh tracks....no one else would.
Coming to Terms
Coming to Terms
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Fever Dreams.....
The elf pleaded through tears. "If you have ever loved me, I beg you find them!"
Christophen stopped, midstride, and glanced cooly over his shoulder.
"I have never loved you....but I will find them..." He strode quickly to the door, grabbing the bow propped against the wall. Lashing the stave to his back, he turned for a final look at his bereaved step-father. "For they are my brothers, no matter blood...and I love them." Closing the door, the north wind bit at his face.
The wolf, Thal Shadi, awaited him eagerly, wagging his tail and lolling his tounge. Christophen knelt, and grasped his muzzle. Looking deep into the wolfs pale blue eyes, he whispered "Time to hunt." Thal perked his ears, rolled back his lips, and let out a slight growl. Christophen smiled slightly, then looked to his mother, kneeling in the snow, weeping for her children.
He slowly walked over, and put his hand on top of her bowed head, to her silken black hair. He stood a moment, then whispered "As long as there is breath, I will search for them...." He turned and started down the path.
"Chris!" He turned to see her staring pleadingly at him.
"I love you too, mother" was his reply, before he turned back around, and started down the trail, Thal Shadi in tow.
Christophen shuddered in his tent, the sweat growing colder, the dream growing deeper.
Three days in the passes....freezing...beyond....
Thal Shadi lay with an arrow in his head. Christophen knealt by his friend..his loyal listener, and shed a single tear. They would pay....
they already had...but they would pay more....rivers of red would flow for his friend....
Two lay close...both dead. A Halfbreed orc, and a human. Rearscouts...he would have to take higher ground now...he would be expected.
Christophen muttered in his sleep, shifting, fighting to awaken....
They hurried now. They knew he was there....five more dead, all humans. The tracks were deep, easy to trail from above, even in the dim moonlight. Christophen stalked through the shadows...no hurry. To sweat here meant death....the snow fell. Red in his eyes...blood moon.
Christophen shuddered, slowly coming out of the haze of dreams....
He cursed. The sun beat down..no water for three days. His lips were cracked, his throat coated in the sand he was breathing, even through the clothe that wrapped his face and head. THe sandstorm...he cursed again...the trail was gone...cold... he had stopped counting how many his arrows had found....still they pressed on.....
Christophens eyes wrenched open, sweat pouring from his body. Lost...the last echo of the dream murmered into his head...."I am lost". He shuddered, wiping the sweat from his brow, and reached for the waterskin in the corner of his tent.
The elf pleaded through tears. "If you have ever loved me, I beg you find them!"
Christophen stopped, midstride, and glanced cooly over his shoulder.
"I have never loved you....but I will find them..." He strode quickly to the door, grabbing the bow propped against the wall. Lashing the stave to his back, he turned for a final look at his bereaved step-father. "For they are my brothers, no matter blood...and I love them." Closing the door, the north wind bit at his face.
The wolf, Thal Shadi, awaited him eagerly, wagging his tail and lolling his tounge. Christophen knelt, and grasped his muzzle. Looking deep into the wolfs pale blue eyes, he whispered "Time to hunt." Thal perked his ears, rolled back his lips, and let out a slight growl. Christophen smiled slightly, then looked to his mother, kneeling in the snow, weeping for her children.
He slowly walked over, and put his hand on top of her bowed head, to her silken black hair. He stood a moment, then whispered "As long as there is breath, I will search for them...." He turned and started down the path.
"Chris!" He turned to see her staring pleadingly at him.
"I love you too, mother" was his reply, before he turned back around, and started down the trail, Thal Shadi in tow.
Christophen shuddered in his tent, the sweat growing colder, the dream growing deeper.
Three days in the passes....freezing...beyond....
Thal Shadi lay with an arrow in his head. Christophen knealt by his friend..his loyal listener, and shed a single tear. They would pay....
they already had...but they would pay more....rivers of red would flow for his friend....
Two lay close...both dead. A Halfbreed orc, and a human. Rearscouts...he would have to take higher ground now...he would be expected.
Christophen muttered in his sleep, shifting, fighting to awaken....
They hurried now. They knew he was there....five more dead, all humans. The tracks were deep, easy to trail from above, even in the dim moonlight. Christophen stalked through the shadows...no hurry. To sweat here meant death....the snow fell. Red in his eyes...blood moon.
Christophen shuddered, slowly coming out of the haze of dreams....
He cursed. The sun beat down..no water for three days. His lips were cracked, his throat coated in the sand he was breathing, even through the clothe that wrapped his face and head. THe sandstorm...he cursed again...the trail was gone...cold... he had stopped counting how many his arrows had found....still they pressed on.....
Christophens eyes wrenched open, sweat pouring from his body. Lost...the last echo of the dream murmered into his head...."I am lost". He shuddered, wiping the sweat from his brow, and reached for the waterskin in the corner of his tent.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
The sun rose dully behind thick grey clouds, barely scratching the surface of the hill with its rays. Still, one managed to find its way into the tent opening, and tickle the eyelid of Christophen. He awoke drowsy...sleep was fleeting now. He sat up slowly, yawning and mumbling. He glared at the sun ray, now on his chest, and swatted at it, like some fly on the rim of a stein.
Alays wakin meh, wit yer shiney lil creatures frem tha Fugues....
Mumbling, he clambered out of the tent, and looked out over the drop of the hill. He breathed deep, then let out his breath slowly. Today would be the day. He started down the hill, then across the grassy plateau, carefully avoiding mudholes from the recent rains. The only sound today was the whipping of the wind, and the few birds out to enjoy worms dislodged by the rain.
A few miles on, past the needled pine, he approached the small cottage. Today was the day. He barged through the tall grass at the fence, then made his way to the door. Opening the crashed hulk, he entered the small abode, and glanced around....everything as he had left. He walked to the fireplace and began scooping the metal handles, hinges and nails from the rocks. There was not all that much left in the room....a shelf, containing a few dissarayed stacks of papers and a can....a cabinet with one door missing.....the wooden chandelier hanging above....the fireplace.... and the pile of broken plates he had gathered by the side window. He placed the metal in his hands with the broken plates, then strode to the bedroom for a final glance.....two beds, and a cabinet missing all of it's doors.
Christophen sighed.
Ill et beh like is en I dapart.....will all ose I thought ere my freinds choose ta ferget meh....ta leave tha place I dwelled in a shambles? Ill I ta, un day beh only sem broken ramains in a small hut...fergotten?
He glanced to the window, then proceeded back outside...to deweed the final plot that had been left to grow wild...to complete the work that Nathan...a man he had barely known, had started.
Alays wakin meh, wit yer shiney lil creatures frem tha Fugues....
Mumbling, he clambered out of the tent, and looked out over the drop of the hill. He breathed deep, then let out his breath slowly. Today would be the day. He started down the hill, then across the grassy plateau, carefully avoiding mudholes from the recent rains. The only sound today was the whipping of the wind, and the few birds out to enjoy worms dislodged by the rain.
A few miles on, past the needled pine, he approached the small cottage. Today was the day. He barged through the tall grass at the fence, then made his way to the door. Opening the crashed hulk, he entered the small abode, and glanced around....everything as he had left. He walked to the fireplace and began scooping the metal handles, hinges and nails from the rocks. There was not all that much left in the room....a shelf, containing a few dissarayed stacks of papers and a can....a cabinet with one door missing.....the wooden chandelier hanging above....the fireplace.... and the pile of broken plates he had gathered by the side window. He placed the metal in his hands with the broken plates, then strode to the bedroom for a final glance.....two beds, and a cabinet missing all of it's doors.
Christophen sighed.
Ill et beh like is en I dapart.....will all ose I thought ere my freinds choose ta ferget meh....ta leave tha place I dwelled in a shambles? Ill I ta, un day beh only sem broken ramains in a small hut...fergotten?
He glanced to the window, then proceeded back outside...to deweed the final plot that had been left to grow wild...to complete the work that Nathan...a man he had barely known, had started.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
The stars watched, as Christophen lay in the soft grass. He smiles softly, watched her rythmic breathing, checking her brow now and then for any sign of change. Dislodging the fire hair from her face, he looked back to the stars that watched.
She was sick....still pale. Those who'd never seen her before would not have noticed....but her tan lacked it's luster....her cheeks almost white.
He had seen something in the lake...something metal. It was a mistake to stray too close though...he knew it even before she stepped to close to the cliffs ledge....
His heart froze as she cried out...the red light encircling her....wanting to leep forward, to keep her from harm, to take her pain for his own. Wanting, yet only able to stare in alarm. Moving could be death. She doubled over, then quickly retraced her steps.
She stumbled ahead of him...he almost helped her, but knew what touching her would do.
She fell. He leaned down, tried to pick her up, but lost his grip.
I'm so dizzy
He waited, eyes darting to and fro, his hands on the hilt of his blades. His life before hers. She stood, wobbily, and he ran his arm through hers. Supporting her, they stumbled back to the ruins, to pick up her belt....then back to the Glenn.....
She lost her breakfast. He held her hair back. They sat, her curling into a ball, resting her head in his lap....
....
Christophen smiled up at the stars. She would get better. What's more...she no longer shook at his touch. The price was paid. He gently stroked her hair, eyeing the stars. She kicked him in her sleep, but he did not mind. He was, indeed, her bear.
He looked at her face, then whispered quietly...
I will take care a ye...weatha ye need et er na.
For the first time in a while, he experienced a feeling he felt far too infrequently....
He felt home. And a little less lost.
She was sick....still pale. Those who'd never seen her before would not have noticed....but her tan lacked it's luster....her cheeks almost white.
He had seen something in the lake...something metal. It was a mistake to stray too close though...he knew it even before she stepped to close to the cliffs ledge....
His heart froze as she cried out...the red light encircling her....wanting to leep forward, to keep her from harm, to take her pain for his own. Wanting, yet only able to stare in alarm. Moving could be death. She doubled over, then quickly retraced her steps.
She stumbled ahead of him...he almost helped her, but knew what touching her would do.
She fell. He leaned down, tried to pick her up, but lost his grip.
I'm so dizzy
He waited, eyes darting to and fro, his hands on the hilt of his blades. His life before hers. She stood, wobbily, and he ran his arm through hers. Supporting her, they stumbled back to the ruins, to pick up her belt....then back to the Glenn.....
She lost her breakfast. He held her hair back. They sat, her curling into a ball, resting her head in his lap....
....
Christophen smiled up at the stars. She would get better. What's more...she no longer shook at his touch. The price was paid. He gently stroked her hair, eyeing the stars. She kicked him in her sleep, but he did not mind. He was, indeed, her bear.
He looked at her face, then whispered quietly...
I will take care a ye...weatha ye need et er na.
For the first time in a while, he experienced a feeling he felt far too infrequently....
He felt home. And a little less lost.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
-
Brokenbone
- Chosen of Forumamus, God of Forums
- Posts: 5771
- Joined: Mon May 16, 2005 1:07 am
- Location: London, Ontario, Canada
Great read!
ALFA NWN2 PCs: Rhaggot of the Bruised-Eye, and Bamshogbo
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
Good stuff.
"The God of the Qurʾan is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully." -- Vaelahr
-
psycho_leo
- Rust Monster
- Posts: 1162
- Joined: Tue Jan 17, 2006 2:10 am
- Location: Brazil
Christophen squinted, then massaged the bridge of his nose. He wiped the quill, stoppered the ink bottle, then stretched slightly. It was the cold of dawn...he swiveled slightly in his chair and eyed the bed. A slow smile found its way to his face, as he gazed upon her sleeping. He closed his eyes, and muttered a quiet prayer....a prayer that this would continue. He looked to the tent flap a moment, into the mists of dawn. His mind wandered, and wound its way past memories, and over dreams. Home. She had eased him....soothed him, bled away the doubt and greif...given the gift of hope and warmth.
She lay quietly. His eyes wandered back to her...to her dreams...her mind. He smiled. He rose slowly, strapping on the belt with the antler handled knife and the silver shortsword....his hand uncounciously scratching the almost healed wound. He plucked the bow...and took a parting glance at Amalanna...his heart...his life. He strode quickly out of the flaps, and into the dawn haze...the sun had yet to rise. Slowly, he strung the bow, and then silently wound his way up the hill, towards the forest.
As he faced the lowlands, his memory caught the camp....the camp of the bandit....the bandits. His mind rushed forward in a fury....to the rabble...a cave, dank....traps. Arrows. Death. Spoiled Grain. Wrong turns. Pain. Crexis...
Chistophen sighed as the sun broke into veiw slowly. He strode down the hill... his mind calming itself. His hand stroked the antler of the knife....
He scratched his arm, mind careening to the Lupas....Geyorg...The Gypsy...wagons...the Lupas.....one saved, two dead on the road. Malar eyed the plains. Talona eye the woods... careful steps.
Slowly, he wound his way between the trees. Slowly, mind going to Bron...unicorn...inscence. One of three, the Bedine would be shortly...home was needed first....she was needed more than anything.
Raspberry tea...touch of the trees....hand of healing, heart of sorrow...to make her smile, made him feel....worthwhile.
He wound his way to the top of the hill, ruined tower. He glanced down at his badge....grunted slightly. Still surprised to see it. But they needed him. And this was home now..she was home.
Slowly drawing the arrow back, he aimed....and let loose. The deer was caught unaware, and fell thrashing to the earth. He quickly drew the dagger, to end its pain. Pain of the land.....
The pool. Tainted...sorrow...death. Sickness....
There was much to be done. As he tressed the deer, his mind raced to solutions......
She lay quietly. His eyes wandered back to her...to her dreams...her mind. He smiled. He rose slowly, strapping on the belt with the antler handled knife and the silver shortsword....his hand uncounciously scratching the almost healed wound. He plucked the bow...and took a parting glance at Amalanna...his heart...his life. He strode quickly out of the flaps, and into the dawn haze...the sun had yet to rise. Slowly, he strung the bow, and then silently wound his way up the hill, towards the forest.
As he faced the lowlands, his memory caught the camp....the camp of the bandit....the bandits. His mind rushed forward in a fury....to the rabble...a cave, dank....traps. Arrows. Death. Spoiled Grain. Wrong turns. Pain. Crexis...
Chistophen sighed as the sun broke into veiw slowly. He strode down the hill... his mind calming itself. His hand stroked the antler of the knife....
He scratched his arm, mind careening to the Lupas....Geyorg...The Gypsy...wagons...the Lupas.....one saved, two dead on the road. Malar eyed the plains. Talona eye the woods... careful steps.
Slowly, he wound his way between the trees. Slowly, mind going to Bron...unicorn...inscence. One of three, the Bedine would be shortly...home was needed first....she was needed more than anything.
Raspberry tea...touch of the trees....hand of healing, heart of sorrow...to make her smile, made him feel....worthwhile.
He wound his way to the top of the hill, ruined tower. He glanced down at his badge....grunted slightly. Still surprised to see it. But they needed him. And this was home now..she was home.
Slowly drawing the arrow back, he aimed....and let loose. The deer was caught unaware, and fell thrashing to the earth. He quickly drew the dagger, to end its pain. Pain of the land.....
The pool. Tainted...sorrow...death. Sickness....
There was much to be done. As he tressed the deer, his mind raced to solutions......
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"