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Iridia
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YASD


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3750 days, 6 hours, 6 minutes and 8 seconds ago.
Posted on Monday, July 12, 2004 at 09:29 (GMT -5)

Relthe opened the door of the room, peeked inside, then placed a hand on Willard's chest, stopping him. "Shh," he said, tiptoeing inside.

On the bed they could see the two girls, both fast asleep. Willard noticed that, as he entered the room, the world seemed to stabilize, the memory of the disconcerting images they had seen fading away like last night's dreams.

Willard threw himself down into the single chair, sighing in relief. "What, exactly, just happened to us?" he demanded, his voice dropping to near-whisper in mid-sentence as he remembered the sleeping twins.

Relthe would normally have tried to look as though he had everything under control; in a world where appearances were everything, that was what you did. But, still shaken by what they had seen, Relthe couldn't fall back on his usual way of doing things. "I don't know," he admitted. "I have no idea what it was."

Willard was running one hand over the unbitten skin of his other arm. "It wasn't real," he said. "But..."

"It felt real. I know." Relthe considered it for a second, then said, "There's one possibility."

"Someone's trying to use magic to attack us?"

Relthe raised an eyebrow; Willard had exactly anticipated what he was going to say.

"Yes... but I don't know of any sort of attack that could do-- that."

"And why they aren't coming after us, or trying something else, now that it's over," Willard said.

"Exactly."

"So what do we do?"

Relthe sighed, mulling it over. "We sleep," he said finally. "We can't leave Andrea here, and if we did run, she'd most likely slow us down and prevent our getting away. And there's still your friend and the knight..." Relthe was already spreading his cloak on the floor.

"Shouldn't we keep watch?" Willard said.

"Oh. Yes, probably," Relthe said. "Wake me in a few hours, then." With that, he turned over, pillowed his head on his boots, and went to sleep.
Die Gedanken sind Frei
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Duke Ravage
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Gravebane Zombie


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5657 days, 9 hours, 25 minutes and 52 seconds ago.
Posted on Sunday, July 18, 2004 at 03:14 (GMT -5)

Josua awoke with a start as someone put a hand on his mouth. He drew in his breath, about to struggle, when he noticed it was Dalinor. Understanding, Josua nodded, and Dalinor removed his hand.

With a few points and a show of fingers, Dalinor indicated the prediciment. Josua carefully lifted the halfhelm and leaned toward Dalinor. "What are we going to do?" he breathed.

Slowly Dalinor rose into a half-crouch, and scanned the area. Then, with more points, he conveyed his plan. Nodding, Josua put on his helm, and looked about. Again, as softly as he could, he whispered, "If they see me?"

"Run. Meet at road, west."

With a final nod, the two parted, Dalinor going west, Josua south, both crouched and staying in the high grass. A few moments later, one outlaw screamed as Dalinor's sword plunged into his chest. Shouts began echoing between the hunting raiders as they began persuit. Josua continued southwards through the grass, hoping Dalinor would make good on his promise to meet him on the road. He did not want to be alone in this world.

He was shaken from his thoughts abruptly when he nearly walked right into a dark, armored figure. For half a heartbeat the two stared at eachother, each startled from what they had been doing. Josua recovered first, instinctively pulling his sword from it's sheath. As the steel rasped on the leather scabbard, the man reacted, and began reaching for his own sword, at the same time opening his mouth to shout. He didn't get the chance. Josua awkwardly swung the sword at his head, and managed to lodge it halfway through the side and front of his neck. Blood sprayed out, staining the grass and Josua's sleeve as the guard choked and clutched at his ruined throat, before he toppled to the ground sideways, Josua's blade still stuck in his neck.

Time resumed it's normal pace. Josua quickly ducked, then rose slightly and looked about in case anyone had seen the altercation. It didn't seem anyone had; he could see shapes moving away to the west, and hear the shouts receeding slowly. Looking down, Josua freed his sword, replaced it in it's scabbard, then bent over and retched.

After a minute or so, he gathered his strength and continued south and west, leaving the corpse where it lay.
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Derek B Rackham Esq.
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Swordsman of Forcena


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6956 days, 7 hours, 24 minutes and 39 seconds ago.
Posted on Tuesday, August 10, 2004 at 01:01 (GMT -5)

As the hours passed, Willard's eyes became adjusted to the dark room and he began to take in his surroundings. Though the room was both small and bland, the Rising Sun's lodgment was received in high regard by Willard after the previous nights spent camping in the wilderness. He could see one argument against the room however; keeping watch in the wilderness offered plenty of stimulation, and Willard doubted his ability to remain reasonably focused whilst closed up in the tiny room.

Glancing over at Relthe, Willard replayed the evening’s events in his mind. As soon as they had charged through the door and out into the cool night air, all sense of reality had left them and they had been thrown headfirst into one terrifying existence after another. Both Relthe and himself had suspected and possibly even sensed a magical attack, though he did not understand how this could be. Such an attack would mean that somebody knew that Willard and Relthe were traveling together and were both in the bar, as this was the only way the two of them could be singled out from the crowd and targeted together. The girls left before us, and Andrea didn't look well at all, Willard thought, did something happen to them too? Willard had always hated situations like this, not for the immediate inconvenience, but for the questions and uncertainty that followed. Did I always hate uncertainty? How do I know this? Willard felt those all too familiar fingers of pain uncoiling and grasping at his head, stabbing it through. He embraced the drowsiness that took over him, all too happy to escape the mind numbing pain that swirled in his head and the events of the evening.

Staggering over to Relthe, Willard quietly roused him to take the next watch, the two of them communicating in guttural grunts resembling a pair of chatting orcs for Relthe's drowsiness and Willard's extreme discomfort. Willard stretched out on the floor, and in spite of the hard wood was immediately stolen away by a deep sleep.

It was Relthe’s turn now to quickly soak up the room and realize what a dull task keeping watch was to be. Reconciling this fact, his mind began to wander over the past few days leading up to tonight. Willard in particular was of great interest to him – it seemed that the boy had an affinity for magic, even if he did not yet know it himself. Relthe was able to feel the power surging in Willard at times, especially when it came down to demonstrations or practical use of his knowledge. Though he hated to admit it, he could not think back to when he had been so relaxed and comfortable with someone. Willard seemed to accept and relate to everything they discussed, especially though not restricted to topics of magic. He may be pliable. He has it in him, you know it. Teach him, it’s what you want. The thoughts both disturbed and elated Relthe. To teach Willard would be immensely rewarding and none too difficult, he could tell, but to take on an apprentice without formal consideration and approval. Some may say it blasphemous. Even heresy. But why does this matter? You are already being chased like a dog. Even if some saw it to be questionable, how is that going to make things any worse than they are now? Relthe sighed and looked over at the boy. So many difficult decisions had plagued him lately, and he could tell that danger was far from through with him yet. Willard’s sleep seemed very disturbed, he almost seemed to be resisting or pushing something away. “NO!”

Willard sat up, gasping. Sweat slicked his body; gooseflesh crept out over his skin.

"You had me a bit worried there," Relthe said in a hushed voice as he knelt beside him. "Thought you must have been having the most terrible dream, and that you may have nearly woken the girls up,"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long at all, only long enough for me to be lost in thought and you to start dreaming,"

"Tell me about him,"

"Who?"

"Him. The man that was there tonight. The man in black."

"What? Who are you talking about?"
Tell me how to get stronger....

[Edited 8 times, last edit on 8/20/2004 at 02:32 (GMT -5) by Derek B Rackham Esq.]
Lamaros
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The sieve


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7163 days, 8 hours, 30 minutes and 53 seconds ago.
Posted on Monday, September 06, 2004 at 06:00 (GMT -5)

Willard looked blank for a moment as he attempted to compose a response. He opened his mouth to speak and then paused and stopped again. He frowned slightly and Relthe saw his eyes lose focus as all his concentration was brought to bear on the issue. Finaly he nodded quickly to himself and looked Relthe clear in the eye.

"He was about your height, perhaps a little taller, and was wearing a black robe. The robe seemed to… glow,” Will stumbled over the words as if he didn’t understand, “like cooling coals from the fire. He was in the corner of the inn the whole time but I didn’t realise it except now.” He looked carefully into Relthe’s eyes for a moment before shaking his head softly. “You didn’t see him.” He slumped onto the ground in confusion and despair.

Relthe sighed. “After the wind passed he looked at you and said “You have failed.”” Willard started and looked at him in confusion. “But you didn’t see him, I know you didn’t see him. How...” his voice trailed off. Relthe took a seat down next to him. “No, you’re right, I didn’t see him, not tonight. But I don’t think you saw him Will, I don’t think you’ve ever seen him.” Willard was lost in confusion but before he could open his mouth Relthe continued. “Memories Will, and not your own.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Wizarding ball.

“How do you feel Will? I don’t want to try this unless you’re relaxed, but I think it might explain a few things.” He looked over and saw Will’s quiet nod of approval. “Until I tell you otherwise I want you to be very careful. I am going to show you something and no matter what happens all I want you to do is observe. Don’t try anything at all, just observe.” He looked Will seriously in the eye. “Ready?”

He reached out and placed his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Observe.”

The memory wasn’t old, but even if it was Relthe knew he would have had no trouble reaching back to it.

It was just after his 22nd birthday and he was into his third year of training as a wizard and, filled with the confidence and impatience of youth, he decided he was ready; the time had come for him to take his Wizarding test. His teachers were skeptical but, knowing his failure would be a better lesson than anything they could impart, let him go through with it.

He was taken to the testing chamber, at that time a small room on the second floor of the teachers’ residence.

Jaegron had come to power around the time of Relthe’s birth. The city had fallen into decay during the squabbling that had proceeded Jaegron’s rule and it had taken a long time for his position to consolidate. Originally relying on the backing of many established groups Jaegron had been little more than a figurehead, and it had taken two decades of careful manipulation for him to achieve real power. That personal power was becoming obvious around the time Relthe was being introduced to the Wizarding School, and it did not take long for Jaegron to exert it.

First among his plans was the restoration of the Wizarding community. All the buildings and areas of the city tied to the Wizards were undergoing grand rebuilding and renovation projects, and the school was not exempt. So, while artists and builders laboured constantly over dilapidated buildings, Relthe was forced to undergo his test in an unused bedroom.

“Stand here and place your hands on the ball.”

In the middle of the room was a statue of a wizard. The wizard was short, rising just past Relthe’s waist, and was dressed in a plain robe. He wore no hat, his long hair flowing freely past his shoulders, and his eyes were closed. His left hand was raised towards the sky, fingers firmly placed around a short rod. His right hand was presenting itself to the room, and resting gently on his palm was crudely carved ball.

Though short the statue gave of the feel of great power, there was an ageless immobility in its form that dominated the room. Staring at it Relthe was reminded sharply of the soft and fragile nature of his own body, and the fact he took for granted his ability to move.

His fingers closed over the rough surface of the ball and the texture brought a glimpse of understanding. The figure was carved from charcoal.

“On my word lift the ball into your own hand and step backwards.” His teacher had crossed that room and now stood beside Relthe, his hand wrapped around the rod that rested in the statue’s raised fist. “Your test begins now. Take the ball.”

As Relthe lifted the ball he noticed it was much heavier than he expected, carrying the weight of stone rather than a lighter charcoal. He hefted it into his hand as he stepped back, quickly adjusting to the unexpected weight and turning his attention back to his teacher. As soon as Relthe had raised the ball from the statue’s grasp his teacher had also taken action, tugging firmly on the rod in his hand and speaking clearly to the empty room, “Apprentice Relthe stands before us today to take his test.”

Relthe looked quickly around the room, senses on edge as he realized his test had finally begun, looking for any sign of what was to happen or what he was expected to do. Nothing happened for a long moment, and then the eyes of the statue flashed open, quickly followed by its lips. “Relthe calls me for his test.” The statue seemed to stretch, every part of its form moving in that same instant. Its voice flexed again, and despite the echoes of disuse it was a powerful instrument that filled the room, “Address me Relthe, so I might know your intent.” Unsure what to say Relthe replied, “My name is Relthe and I stand before you today to take my test.” He paused and waited for a response. The statue, standing in the same position as when it awoke, turned as Relthe spoke so that as he finished it was right in front of him, staring up at him through smoldering eyes. “On what grounds do you take the test.”?

Relthe looked to his teacher but found no help there, his teacher was standing sedately to the statue’s side, still holding the rod. He quickly sifted through various possible answers and was on the verge of answering when the statue sighed. He shifted his attention back in time to catch a look of tired despair flashing across its dark face as it mumbled something inaudible, then the look was gone, and the statue straightened and turned towards his teacher. “Who shall guide the path with me?” His teacher replied immediately “I shall guide.” The statue responded “Who are you?” and received the answer “I am a teacher of Relthe’s”.

“Then join me and let the test begin.” As statue stepped backwards, pulling firmly on the rod in his left hand, the rod still held by the teacher, his robes began to smoke. As the smoke filled the room the statue yanked hard on the rod again and the teacher fell down into the statue and was consumed by the smoke. The statue bulged for a moment as the teacher disappeared, its stomach swelling like a pregnant woman, and then in a similar process it its awakening, it’s whole formed flexed again.

Its head shook quickly and when it settled again the face was larger, the hair longer, and the features subtly changed; it knelt quickly to the ground before springing up again and now its legs were longer; it’s arms reached out to the corners of the room, clawing their way closer; and as all the limbs settled back into their former poses the statue’s pregnant stomach collapsed inwards. The figure stood before Relthe now at his own height and carrying facial features of his teacher. The voice remained the same though, and it cut through Relthe’s astonishment like a dagger, bringing him back to the task before him.
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