An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

~ An Emperor has not been chosen, and with no uniting force, ancient racial enmities are returning. The young lord Barnabas, fights to keep the Empire united.

Moderators: Staff, Roleplay Staff

An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Sun Sep 09, 2012 10:28 pm

(OOC: This is the continuation of Out of the Darkness and into the Light, located here: http://www.monarchygame.com/boards/viewtopic.php?f=33&t=1249&p=22099#p22099 Enjoy~)

Pain.

It ruled her world in a way she had never known before. She knew she was dying, one way or another - if they did not kill her, they would cripple her forever. A dire fate, to be useless, even if it was less dire than having no future at all.

She tried to raise her head off the groun, tears streaming down her face and blood leaking from one corner of her mouth. She gasped in shocked pain as a dagger seemed to stab through her chest, and let her head fall back down. Bone pierced flesh and leathers alike out of her back, it was a miracle she had not been killed instantly.

Fingers weakly scratching pavement, she slid deeper into a black tunnel, and then darkness claimed it all.

---

Searing light. The sound of all the thunder in the world, constant and ceaseless.

---

He opened his eyes.

One moment he had been screaming at the top of his throat, his sword stabbing into armored men as ardently as they stabbed back. He knew he was a dead man - he had seen the thrust coming to take his life.

The young officer glanced down at his chest. No blood. Well, no more blood than what had been splattered on him from foe and ally alike. His armor was badly dented and soiled, and his sword notched deeply along its full length.

And then he looked up, and gaped.

Gone were the hordes of men in shining armor, men who could have no possible reason for being there in the first place. The city wasn't exactly there, so to speak. All of it had changed. The city was a pile of rubble, but it bore no resemblance to Taeien. It bore no resemblance to anything he had ever seen.

The ruins of tall spires and towers, which must have been exceedingly tall judging for the mostly intact giants in the distance. The ruins of shops and houses, tenements and warehouses filled the spaces in between, walls tumbled down. Smoke filled the air, near and far. Behind it all, looming on the horizon, was a small dot of mountains out amongst the vast plains.

The officer shook his head. The air was slightly off, quite aside from the smoke and dust on the air. The light of this place was wrong - he couldn't define what was wrong with it, anymore than he could understand how to express the feeling of thinness to reality here.

Looking around again, he saw that everyone else was here, too. Everyone. The soldiers, the invaders were simply gone, and instead, spread all around, were all the refugees, squinting in the harsh sun burning in that clear, clear sky. The soldiers were here too, those that yet lived. The bow woman was gone, but the kid he'd seen earlier was there, and another boy who practically walked on the feet of some woman - the Physician? The mercenary from before was there also, in a much worse state than most of his men that were here. There was plenty of blood to go around among them, though. With the immediate threat gone, many of them slumped wearily, panting for breath.

He himself felt worn out. A day or two of fighting with virtually no rest in it at all. He was beat, but he pressed on. He started across the crushed cobbles of the vast plaza they stood in, heading for a prone shape on the ground. He ran for it, fearing that it would be too late for her. He had seen that inhuman blow, heard the crack of bone in his head if not over the din of battle.

She lay amid a small pool of blood, still. Only the slow movement of her breathing gave any hint that she was alive, but what was to be seen was saddening indeed.

Her shoulder was a shapeless mass, and the long bone of her left arm jutted through the darkly stained armor on her back. He stared, then sat on his haunches, unable to think straight, unable to come up with something to do. And so he mourned a woman he had never really known, and would have liked to have had a chance to.

He never even thought to question where they were. Or why.
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Larit » Fri Sep 14, 2012 7:03 pm

I stare at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the old stonework. Someone groans in their sleep next to me and I frown as I have to restart following the myriad of branches. Somewhere in the ceiling was a weak point. I knew it, I could feel it.

If I could find it, I might be able to leave this place. Not to the outside world, but to death.

The Master had been hard on us lately. Two more had died while trying to scale his tower. We had been forced to take the bodies to the tunnel to the basement of the tower and leave them. None of us were aloud past that point.

Not yet.

As I look for that treacherous weak spot, I try to fight that latest spell that he had put on us. Our identities were slowing slipping away, replaced by something he fashioned. Already I couldn't recall my parent's faces, just their voices. Father calling for me for supper while mother sang the latest melody she had composed.

Oh, how I wanted to hear her voice again...

My frown deepened. Who's voice? I had been thinking about something, but trying to recall it brought pain to my chest.

Back to the cracks. I needed to find escape.


Eyes cracked open as pain flashed through Larit and his instincts brought him to his feet, however momentarily. A wave of weakness and overwhelming pain brought him crashing to his knees and toppling to the dust covered ground. A hand probed his side and came away wet. Thick with blood.

Great.

Pulling out his pouch, he quickly found some dried leaves of feverfew and began to chew. Relief from the pain came slowly, but it still didn't solve the problem of the massive gash in his side where he had been skewered like a pig. Another piece of fabric from his sleeve staunched the bleeding for now but he knew he would have to sew it up sooner then later.

Finally Larit took the time to look around and a slight frown lined his thin lips. The air felt stale and the sun filtering through the dust seemed weaker then it should be. The entire world seemed... washed. Like it was stretched thin.

Acting on a theory, he reached behind him and pulled out an arrow from his quiver and snapped it.

Just as he thought. Even the sound of it breaking seemed muted somehow.

This couldn't be the same city. Where was he? Larit had once chased a wizard through a portal into another realm, one that had set his nerves afire. Though this was different, it somehow felt the same. Not another realm maybe, but something close to it. Something just on the edge of reality.

How he got here wasn't his concern, however. Survival was. Clutching the fabric over his wound, he made his was slowly down the street. So intent was on he on just staying moving, he nearly tripped over an armoured man sprawled against the side of a ruined wall. Looking around, he found that he must have stumbled upon some gathering. There in the crowd he spotted under layers of blood a familiar sign. Soldiers from before, when he had met that woman. Not as many as before, not by half, but they were there.

Larit slumped to his knees.

Maybe someone in that group would know what happened. And maybe those he had escorted through the besieged city had made it here too.
User avatar
Larit
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 30
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2012 8:10 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Therese » Sat Sep 15, 2012 7:14 pm

The Physician had no time to gawk and gape at the world around them. She was aware that something had changed, on the very edge of her vision she could see that their surroundings had altered. Though whether it was truly that the city itself had altered or they had somehow been moved to some other ruined place Therese could not say. There were plenty of others about, let them worry about such things, she had a patient to care for.

But looking at the woman she feared that she would not have this particular patient for long.

She could sense rather than see the reaction of her novice, he had taken one look at the woman's body and blaunched, tearing his eyes away from her body to look at anything else. The woman's wounds were horrific, how the woman still breathed at all was a miracle...or perhaps just a cruel trick of nature. Surely with such wounds it would have been kinder to allow her to die instantly rather than suffer as she doubtlessly was? Fate was an unpleasant taskmaster to say the least, to put the woman through such hell and leave her breathing. Therese had been called upon in the past to end a patient's life rather than let them suffer needlessly, it was never an easy thing to do, never a decision that she wanted to make, but sometimes it was the only mercy that she could give.

Once more she looked over the wounds, perhaps there was some other way, perhaps her first diagnosis had been wrong. She wracked her brain, trying to remember anything that her teachers had taught her that might help, tried to think through what herbs and tinctures might be of use. But there was nothing she could do, all her skills and learning were nothing compared to the magnitude of the injuries that her patient had suffered. Perhaps if she had been in Lissileum, with all the aid and learning of the University behind her she might have been able to do something more for the woman.

"Physician, what should we do?" Her novice's voice cut through her thoughts, the boy slowly regaining his senses, though he still could not bring himself to look at the woman for long. His face was pale and his hands trembled, but still, at least he had managed to pull himself back together enough to think of the patient. The Physician had to admit a sense of grudging admiration for the boy, she had not fared half so well when she had first come across one with such dire injuries. Maybe, if they ever made it back home, the boy would do well enough to attain the rank of apprentice.

She rubbed her eyes, her spectacles riding up as she did so, "Not much I'm afraid Boy. This woman's injuries are well beyond our skills, especially so in our current situation. Had we the facilities of the University at hand we might be able to coax her back from the brink, but I fear she would not live well if we did so, and I doubt that she would thank us for such a life." Therese had seen such broken souls, people who lived but barely, it was not a life she would choose for herself.

"But we can't leave her like this, Physician", the boy's voice jumped in pitch as he spoke, horrified at the thought of leaving the woman to suffer further.

"No, no, we can't", she answered softly. "Find me some water Boy, someone around here must have some. We'll need to prepare something to ease her passing". Pain lanced through her temples as she frowned in frustration, helpless to aid the woman who had tried to help so many others. Silently Therese cursed herself, she didn't even know the woman's name.
It's frightening. Unexpected. Frankly, a total utter splattering mess on the carpet.
But I am certain — one hundred percent certain — that we can work this out. Trust me. I'm the Doctor.
User avatar
Therese
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 10
Joined: Sat Aug 04, 2012 7:52 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Sun Sep 16, 2012 1:12 am

It felt like being torn in two, his soul being shorn free of the earthly vessel that had borne it. For a long time, or perhaps only a few moments, he felt adrift, torn, and lost.

The world that replaced the one he had known but moments before was alien in every way. The washed out light that illuminated the ground, the not quite right sky. The very air held an edge of agelessness while at the same time it seemed to convey age beyond reckoning. But, despite the strangeness, there were no men in dark armor, no stabbing swords and pikes, no hail of arrows and bolts. All around was tranquility, a fragile silence like a held breath. The world seemed pregnant with possibilities, eager for a conclusion to be drawn.

Anastor looked about blearily. Valaetia was gone, as were most all of the rest that had been standing with him, fighting for their lives against men and worse. He stood alone in a street of cracked stone, the ruins of two and three story buildings to either side of him. The city would have been beautiful, once, so much so as to defy description. Where ever it was, it was no longer so. Once elegant structures constructed of stone that seemed to flow into its final shape lay in ruins, cracked and crumbled where it wasn't simply collapsed in piles of broken stone and glass and wood. Only the faintest of breezes stirred the air, and even that little bit only served to whip up a thin pall of dust from the street.

He began walking, marveling at the carcass of greatness, the unwieldy corpse of a once great city. Not a creature stirred, and nothing but the sounds of his own footfalls accompanied him. The place was utterly deserted, and for a moment he found himself fearing that the others were not here, that he was stranded, alone, in a dying place. Forgotten, left to die in a place that had, clearly, seen its share of death.

"Where the hell is this?" He muttered under his breath, young legs carrying him swiftly forward. The words were barely free of his lips before a haunting, ghostly whisper drifted on the wind to his ears.

You are.....where you need to be....

Things seemed to shift, the world blurred. And then, once again, he was elsewhere.

---

She lay on the parched earth, and panted heavily. Tremors still shook her limbs, fiery lances of pain licking through her veins like molten iron. Though tears leaked from the corners of her eyes from pain - pain of the transit, and pain from the wounds suffered defending the unworthy, she found she yet had breath to give, and life to live. For a long moment, it was very uncertain fare on that particular point.

Staggering on weak knees, she got to her feet, and looked around. The ruins stretched to the horizons in all directions, washed out and pale. Everything here seemed to lack some measure of...substance. Everything felt solid, looked real, and yet somehow it was not.

"What a fine little trap you have sprung, Sorceress." The words were a growl, low in her throat, and she nearly swallowed her tongue at the immediate reply.

"Oh, I wouldn't call it a trap, you red-eyed bitch."

Elarial looked up sharply, but there was no one else but her and the remnants of greatness. The sorrowful wind played a haunting melody in the abandoned buildings, but aside from herself, all was dead here.

"However," the disembodied voice continued, "it seems I have caught a touch more than I bargained for. What are you doing here? How did you come to be here?"

Elarial snorted, then started walking on unsteady legs. "You brought me here, you daft old bitch. How the hell do you think I got here?"

There was faint laughtered larded through the wind, and then a long period of silence.

"Well. You, at least, I will not have to deal with. The natives grow restive, and I think you are just the type of entertainment they need while I deal with more pressing matters."

Elarial said nothing. Natives. She didn't want to know, but she had a feeling she would find out, and soon. Unable to quicken her stride, lest she deposit herself on the ground in a heap, she started seeking some kind of shelter. For the moment, the fates had tossed her....where ever this was. Once she found herself a place to hole up against the natives, as it was termed, she could consider her options.

For a faint moment, she wondered after the human that had been so touched and twisted by sorcery, the one who had, for her brief time with him, fought some inner struggle. Was he here, too? And where was here, exactly, anyway?

"Why....does it always have to be me?" There was no answer. It was just as well.

---

She moved through the street, though it wasn't strictly speaking necessary for her to do so. The air was alive with the Art, if one knew what to look for and where, but it wasn't the awe-inspiring sorceries of old that throbbed through this world, holding it forever changeless. Stopping the flow of time was a relatively simple matter, for this entire world, small though it was, existed entirely outside the bounds of the world, in a manner of speaking.

The gathered soldiers, most of them still looking about wildly with eyes filled with warring confusion and relief, they did not mark her passage at all. It wasn't those that she was interested in, anyway. Really, the small group of men and woman she did have an interest in was simply a passing one, and only the nebulous friendship with one of them gave it any sense of urgency. And so, she pushed through men who did not glance at her twice, except maybe to edge away from her in case whatever she had was catching.

She was short, perhaps four feet tall, with a faint look of a girl child of fourteen about her. If the look was only because of relative size, and perhaps her voice, that was where it ended. Her narrow face held large eyes the color of polished amethyst, deep and lit from within by a very faint light that was not at all born by the light of the sun shining down on her. A small mouth and nose, and silver hair that framed her face and almost hid the short pointed ears before cascading down her back in dull waves that ended at her waist, tied back with a turquoise ribbon at the nape of her neck. Her body was slight and full breasted, full of curves that would appeal to any mans' taste if A) they didn't mind that she looked a child and B) she had any interest in that sort of entertainment.

More remarkable, perhaps, was her garb. The cut of cloth was strange and distinctly foreign, and perhaps a touch out of date. The skirts were of a pale blue wool, made of overlapping layers that conceleaed even her feet. The bodice was of a darker blue, cut to hug her figure enticingly with a high neck and loose sleeves. A brooch of pale jade glinted at her breast, gleaming on the thick dress in such a way that only the earrings she wore could even match it, complex silver and gold patterns hung from each ear. And she carried a staff, typically cliche of her caste of people. It stood taller than she did by a good foot or more, and was carved in ivy vines and rose blossoms for its entire length.

She pushed through another gathering of men and women who glanced at her uneasily before returning to whatever contemplation held their attention for the moment. She could quite understand - her flesh was deathly pale, and sweat ran in rivulets across her face as she made her way forward. How long had it been? Too long, and yet the lingering effects still gripped her as tightly as before. Dull hair, pale flesh, and fever bright eyes, and if any dared come close enough to her, they would feel the fever heat radiating from her in waves. Some things must be borne because they had to be, and such was the case here.

She made her way at last to the relocated scene of the fighting, and stared. On the hill top was as odd an assortment of people as could ever be found, and her sharp eyes took them all in. She paused a moment on Imrilisam, and then a young man who - and her lips curled in a faint smile - seemed to have his own secrets yet untold. A woman and a boy, clearly horrified by what they were seeing, and at their feet, amid blood and death, a motionless body she recognized immediately. Steeling herself, she made her way haltingly forward towards the trio.

She brushed past the physician and her novice without a word, which was no mean feet since both of them were bigger than she. Without a word, she went to her knees, careless of the dirt grinding into her dress, or the waves of dizziness that assailed her at the motion.

"Hmmm....yes...." She murmured to herself, and then steeled herself once more.

With the ease of one infinitely practiced at it, she opened herself to the Art. It was always there, always within her even - how could it not be, it was her - and the flood of life and strength was only partly spoiled by that seed of darkness, carefully couched in complex wardings and seals. Even as power rushed to fill her, as it lifted her spirit high with something very akin to....well, even so, that seed gorlwed silently, and drew on threads of that power that coursed through her. That seed threatened to tear the bindings apart, and flood her body and soul with its taint. The Lords' little gift.

As she touched the Art, she quickly turned her head from the unconcious woman, and emptied her stomach noisily. Waves of nausea pounded at her, dizziness, a tightening of the chest. Oh yes, bound but not totally so. The price of arrogance, it was. Ignoring all of those distractions, she reached out with her mind, directing flows of power that, of all those present, only she could see. And with them, she looked inside the dying woman, saw her hurts and wounds. It was all she could do not to shudder at the things she saw.

"Well." Her voice was high pitched and childish, but it carried a certain timbre to it that could only be called command. "Perhaps I cut it a touch close," she mused to herself, and waved a hand airily.

One moment, there was only the cold, hard ground and men milling about. The next, a tent with sturdy walls was there. And that was not preciely correct, either. Before, there had been nothing, but now, the tent had always been there. Within the spacious confines, a bed had appeared, and her friend lay atop to covers, blood already soaking into the sheets. The woman and her young aide were inside too - it would have been more work to kick them out, and right now what she needed was concentration.

"By the Father, don't you die on me yet."

She visibly steeled herself, preparing to draw a great deal more of the Art. What must be, must be. That didn't make it any more pleasant.
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Topheh » Sun Sep 16, 2012 4:44 pm

Pain blurred his vision, and for long moments he stared at the ground between his two outstretched hands, waiting patiently for it to come into some semblance of focus. He was dimly aware that several of the stitches the Physician had given him had broken open as he had tumbled to the ground, and the trickle of sticky wetness had returned.

While he waited, his less-addled senses began to register that a change had taken place. His ears heard no sounds of conflict, his nose... something smelled different. He struggled to marshal his brain into order, to make sense of the words he was hearing, but it, too, was taking its time recovering.

A muscle spasm in his left arm dropped his face to the earth, and he breathed in the old dust of the place, leading to a coughing and hacking fit that rocked him up to a sitting position.

Which is when he saw a huge tent just before him, blurry but easily identifiable. Staggering to his feet, he looked around, then stormed forward into the tent.

"In the Name of all the Gods who Were, what is going on? Where are we?" He demanded, momentarially not noticing Aeyliea's wounded body behind the protective screen of the Physician, her assistant and a new person he had never seen before.
User avatar
Topheh
Traveler
 
Posts: 203
Joined: Sun Sep 27, 2009 10:58 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Larit » Tue Sep 18, 2012 6:38 am

Larit felt the absence of the magical sheath keenly on his arm. It had been the first 'gift' the Master had given him. His Brothers had received similar tokens; weapons, jewellery, and one a figurine. They were only allowed to handle them when the Master was about, but still it had been such a warm gesture to the young Larit that he should be given anything at all.

But now, without that sheath, he felt lost. How was he supposed to know his personal truths? That sheath had always been an anchor to reality. Even that flicker of a false memory wouldn't have disturbed him had he been able to pull out a dagger while whispering that it was true. A falsehood that would activate the magic within the sheath.

No matter. Larit still had a task ahead of him, one more important then telling truth from fiction.

Survival.

Chewing on the feverfew, he propped himself up on the wall next to the soldier when something tickled his senses. His instincts weren't giving him any warnings about his surroundings, but something within was bothering him. He ran a bloody hand across his brow and then looked around again.

The soldier and the army had vanished, the pulsing heat in his forehead giving the cause. Fever and too much blood loss had made him hallucinate the entire bloody thing! The herb would help with the fever, but he had to do something about the wound.

Larit pulled the ragged wound as close together as he could, but he knew quickly that he wouldn't just be able to sew it shut like some of the others he had received over the years. It was too wide, the halbard doing too much damage when it went it. Muscles gleamed under the steady flow of blood that created a river of red in the pale dust behind him. No wonder he was seeing things, more blood was on the ground then probably remained in his body. What he wouldn't do for a field of yarrow next to him right now.

Tying another piece of fabric around his waste to hold the first in place, he chuckled softly at himself. A few years ago, he was a mage-killer, then he had become a bandit, and now he was just rat bait. Seems one fell down the ladder then going up.

That chuckle stopped abruptly though as soon as Larit realized he was doing it. He was becoming delirious, he figured. His masks laughed, but not him. Struggling to his feet, he looked again around him. No illusions of safety welcomed him, just the staunch reminder that he was alone.

Again.

Leaving a trail of blood behind him, he staggered down a road in the general direction that they had been going before. One foot in front of the other became his mantra when a rogue thought crossed his mind. Where was Elarial? That deliverer of death that was so like him in many ways but so alien at the same time.
User avatar
Larit
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 30
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2012 8:10 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Sun Sep 23, 2012 10:32 am

Time seemed an irrelevant concept, here. She marveled at how she had traveled for what seemed to surely be hours, and yetthe sun never changed its position, except by perhaps a hairsbreadth. The ruined city seemed to stretch on into eternity, toppled towers and collapsed houses lining the detritus littered streets she walked. What was this place, anyway?

She felt some strange kinship to the world that surrounded her, in a murky, muddy water sort of way. All the buildings contained some faint trace of... she couldn't really put her finger on it. Something akin to her, at least partly. She felt she should know this place, and yet it looked like none she had ever seen. It looked like nothing that had ever been, and if it had, it had to have been so long ago that the racial memories of this world had since forgotten it.

And whatever it was, it was born, in some way, through the arts of that infuriating woman. Elarial had only encountered the sorceress a few times in her long life and compared to the witch she was but a child. And infant, really.

What strange sights had she seen in her long life? Moreover, what wonders could be accomplished by someone so powerful, with an eternity of time ahead of them to craft their empire? A whole people, like her, to back it?

But the Sidhe were few, now. Once they had numbered in the millions, perhaps, but now just a handful remained. The destruction of Mo'pri, an event none save a few could still remember - that had shattered the race. And in the following years, they had nearly been eradicated. She knew nothing of Mo'pri, not for herself to know. The Matriarch, however, did. The Sidhe were not the only ones who were granted near immortality.

She mused as she trudged along, ignoring the searing pain that came from the plethora of wounds she had taken. Blood dribbled and dripped on the dusty, broken stones of the street and went completely unheeded by her.

Her people. Immortal, or very nearly so. But with such a violent tribal society - when they were not actively working in favor of their Goddess - though time did not touch them, death still could. And often did, messily. Hers was a people that could never take the stage in the greater world. They were very few, thousands in total, and never likely to expand beyond such.

The trouble, or at least part of it, was that they were mostly all women. Males were rare, very rare, and precious. She had seen fighting between various tribes over them, even though they tended to be slightly slow of wit. At least that was the generally held view. Though she didnh't like admitting it herself, she had the sneaking suspicion that they were far more clever than she was.

Bloodletting and violence between tribes kept their numbers down. Though it had been tried before, there was simply too much chaos in their hearts for the Mah'riel to work peacefully together for very long, except in service ofthe Goddess she had refused. And so they stayed small, and woefully ignored in the greater scheme of the world. Every now and again some interloper would venture into the desert homeland. They usually never returned from whence they came, left for the vultures and the sun.

She stopped. She stared, thoughts drifting away to silence.

The ground in front of her was splattered with blood that somehow still gleamed wetly on the stones. The trail vanished into the dust-hazed distance. She looked behind her, and saw the same trail stretching into infinity.

"What the...."

Had she been walking in a big circle? But no, her course was straight as an arrow, for the street she had been walking had been straight and unobstructed the entire time. There must be some other out in this forsaken city, and she just hadn't seen them.

If that is so, then why can't you see them?

She frowned in confusion, trying to puzzle out the how of it.

"There it is! Get that blood-eyed wench!"

She started, and looked back the way she had come. One man, in shining steel armor, stood atop a collapsed home, pointing at her. And behind him, from a side street, a hundred men in similar garb burst into the street at a run. They looked extremely angry, and she found it funny that she should even notice.

Her wounds still bled, if slowly, and her limbs ached. She hurt all over, and there was little surprise to that, considering the events that had already come to pass.

She didn't want to fight a hundred armed men, not again.

She could hear that lone man scream in frustration behind her, fading into the distance. "She's getting away you milk-skinned sons of goats. CATCH HER!"

Bugger that.
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Larit » Wed Sep 26, 2012 12:47 am

How odd was it that when you are approaching death, that you think of the most ridiculous things? Larit, holding his arm tight against the wound in his side, wondered. For a moment he hadn't worried about the blood loss nor the fact that he was beginning to drag his feet more. No, he had worried about the fact that he had was quickly running out of wearable clothing. His cloak was nothing more then a tattered rag at the moment and his shirt had so many tears and rips in it that he was surprised it was still on. If only he had the foresight to have been wearing his thick leather vest at the time of this attack, he might not be suffering so much.

His free hand sought out the pouch holding the objects he had taken from the Master. Would one of these be able to hold back death's hand? More then likely they would just speed up the process. The Master didn't have time for weakness and of all the objects that Larit had been sent to 'reclaim', none had any hint that they could be used for healing.

A finger ran across a gem the size of his palm. It had been on the Master when he had been killed and Larit held no qualms of looting the man's corpse. When the time came, he might just have to see what it did.

Time seemed to elude him in this place. He couldn't tell whether or not it he had been walking for minutes or hours. His vision began to swim and every so often he was forced to stop and empty his stomach. All the while he fingered the gem, wondering when would be the last chance he had to use it before he didn't have the energy left to do anything more then sleep.

Time was slowly beginning to run out and he knew it. His instincts had been dulled. He didn't even notice the fact he had been turned around. Blood from his wound was in front of him now as well as behind.

"CATCH HER!"

The cry brought his head whipping up, his instincts flaring. His nerves felt afire again and his fingers itched to draw steel. Unfortunately all he had was his daggers and he was bleeding to death. He was in no condition to fight and while his mind wanted him to, his instincts drew him back.

Sliding into the shadows of a crumbled wall, he could hear footfall. Too many. Had the army that attacked the city somehow found its way here? Or were they brought here just like he was? If so, he was in for a lot of trouble. Larit slowly placed together the sound approaching. One in the lead, many more following. A large amount of them.

As the sound grew closer, he felt a tingle of familiarity.

A flash of movement and his hand reached out to try to pull Elarial into the shadows with him.
User avatar
Larit
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 30
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2012 8:10 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Therese » Wed Sep 26, 2012 7:09 am

The Physician looked down at the woman's broken form sadly, it was such a waste to see such a soul hurt. Why did people feel the need to injure one another so? There were more than enough sicknesses and accidents in the world without adding to them by deliberately hurting one another. With all the illnesses and viruses and just plain bad luck that existed there was enough work to keep all the Physicians, apprentices and novices of the University busy for many lifetimes. But still people of all races and creeds insisted on inflicting more pain and suffering on one another, and all for what? Some political ideal or dispute over who owned what blade of grass? Sometimes Therese felt that there was just no hope for the peoples of the world, they didn't seem to have the sense of a gnat.

At least though they didn't seem to bother with all the nonsense over Gods anymore. She'd read about the so-called divinities of the past, beings with unimaginable power who whole realms had pledged themselves to only to die by fire, sword and poison. She had always thought that surely beings with that kind of power wouldn't need to see others die needlessly in such ways but history spoke otherwise. The sense of it was beyond her and she was glad that she had not lived in such unenlightened times.

Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a small child, no, woman appearing next to her before her novice had even had a chance to look for water. The woman did not look well, and there was the understatement of Therese's year. Some sickness seemed to burn through her, a person didn't need to be a Physician of Lissileum to be able to make that diagnosis. But where had she come from? Therese didn't remember seeing her amongst the refugees and she most certainly wasn't one of the soldiers. Was she instead a native of this new set of ruins that they found themselves in?

Before she had a chance to question what the woman was doing, much less where she came from, everything changed. Suddenly the Physician and her novice, along with the new arrival and the injured Aeyliea, were no longer outside. Had they moved again? Or had this tent appeared around them? The young shaven haired novice gaped at its appearance, all thoughts of gathering water gone, now he just wanted to stay close to the one certainity in his world: Therese.

The small woman steeled herself for something, though Therese could not guess what. Asking the injured Aeyliea not to die on her? Well that didn't seem like something that could be stopped. Aeyliea's wounds were terrible and the Physician didn't want to think on what other internal injuries she might be suffering from. She might not want to die but the flesh could only stand so much, mortal man - or rather woman - could only take so much punishment before the body failed. And all of Therese's experience told her that the injured woman was far beyond any help that she knew of.

Perhaps this newcomer, thought that the Gods of old would return suddenly and mend all the damage that had been done. It seemed as likely as Aeyliea not dying at that point.

Imrilisam's sudden appearance in the tent tore the Physician away from what the newcomer was doing. "What do you think you're shouting about young man?", she said, drawing herself up imperiously to her full height. Though there was probably not much difference in age between the warrior and the Physician, Therese had spent far too much time on her travels away from the University pretending to be older. Sometimes the only way to maintain control over a situation was to present to be older and therefore wiser. "Can you not see this woman is dying? Give her a little peace to depart this world in".
It's frightening. Unexpected. Frankly, a total utter splattering mess on the carpet.
But I am certain — one hundred percent certain — that we can work this out. Trust me. I'm the Doctor.
User avatar
Therese
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 10
Joined: Sat Aug 04, 2012 7:52 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Fri Sep 28, 2012 9:18 pm

"Highest, I bring news. Forgive me for disturbing your repast."

Tandric Delgado, Highest Lord of the Empire of the Dawn and Commander of the 14th Army Division, looked up from his simple meal. Meals were always simple here, and the fare of the morniong was fresh fruit and oatmeal. There was no game to be found here, but ultimately it seemed a needless concern. As they had sat here for and undeterminable number of years, time did not touch this place. They didn't need to eat, which was well because there was very loittle food to be found in this place.

Tandric sighed. "What news can there possibly be that could not wait?"

"Newcomers, Highest. Quite a few this time." The man - Tandric didn't bother with learning their names as low born as many of them were - kept his eyes properly averted when he spoke in that humble tone. Some of the practices of the Empire were harsh, but the benefit their betters gave them warranted the adulation and adoration of her people. They may grumble about what the high nobility did, but they had kept it to only that. So it had been for nigh unto three hundred and seventy some years, since the Founding. He motioned curtly for the man to continue.

"Three seperate groups Lord. A large force of swordsmen and pikes, mostly battered and bloodied. A couple other stray groups. We wish to know your will in this matter, since such a large force could pose a possible threat."

Tandric grunted. There were well over three thousand of the Elite Guard of the Imperial Garrison amongst the numbers stranded here, and he had little doubt they could deal with anything the wretched interlopers could come up with.

And yet... Time was meaningless here, but memory served after a fashion. There were days and nights, but trying to count them was a pointless endeavor, as the days and nights themselves were inconsistent in length. But Tandric was a smart man. No one who was weak or foolish managed to make it into the Highest of the noble families. At least not for long. The blood spilled between Houses, while a fairly clandestine affair for the most part, rivaled all the blood spilled in the wars the Empire had fought over its existence.

"The Highest wishes them to be rounded up. Strangers come infrequently, and I would know why such a large group, and especially why they have all come at once." He did not add that their prison was quite full as it was without adding extra inmates. "Send a platoon to gather up each group."

"Lord, it should be cfalled to your attention that one of the Blood-Eyes are among the number to arrive."

He said nothing for a long moment, frozen in the act of standing. "Them? Here? Capture it. Perhaps it can tell us something of this place and why we are here. Capture the others, too, and be more careful about it. They might be with that creature."

"As my Lord Highest wishes, so shall it be." The man bowed out of his presence, closing the door behind him quietly.

If it hadn't been for the war that had led to this place, the seed of ambition burning within him would have been enough, perhaps, for him to ascend the throne in the end as Emperor himself. He was nobly born, of course,l and well aquainted with the internal struggle of the Imperial Houses as they sought to secure their right to the throne. No Emperor lived forever, and while succession within the Imperial Family was the accepted method of ascension, with no royal heirs to contend with the line was open to a new house.

However long time had burned along with him left outside the tangled weave, Tandric still sought that throne, though it had been, unknown to him, shattered for thousands of years already.

And so he rose, with the fervent intent of joining one of the police forces to their destined encounter.

---

Somewhere, subconciously, a voice tinkled in laughter. The world could be controlled, but the more subtle manipulation was ever more satisfying.

---

"I swear in Olander's name that if you say that one more time, you and I will have words, Healer." The strange woman walked slowly around the table. The woman - her patient- lay quietly unconcious, barely alive, barely breathing. The extent of her injuries had been painted as bright as the sun in her brief carress with the Art, but there was much more that she had to do.

"I do not understand why you have done nothing, Healer. Are your arts untrained? I understand with your limitations that it might be difficult - none can help the way they are born. But surely human arts are sufficient to pull this off?" She glanced sideways at Therese and her young boy-child. Her first impression was of an educated woman, confident in her abilities. And yet, for some reason, something was missing in the woman. Something she had come to expect. She didn't dig on the matter, though, as there were more pressing matters.

She stopped when she stood at the womans' head, and then took a deep breath. Once, this had been an experience that was as close to bliss as could be had. But the touch of some foreign deity, larded thickly through the touch of a man, had changed everything. The world, or at least what she had been aware of at the time.

She closed her eyes, and opened a part of herself to the swirling force that lay all around. In an undescribable way, she reach out and touched that force, and felt it thunder through the connection she had forged. Thin streamers added to the flood, snaking from her own flesh, but those threads were dark and vile, putrid and full of death.

From the moment she had seized the Art, searing pain flayed her. Her veins burned as if they were filled with acid, and her stomach clenched violently. It was an effort of supreme willpower not to vomit right then and there, as her legs turned to water beneath her and she swayed slightly, face paling to and ashen white. "I would curse you with my last breath for forcing me to endure this when you should be more than capable of it, Healer." She swallowed hard, opening eyes that now glowed a little more than normal with a faint light.

She looked at Aeyliea in silence, forming threads of power, chosen from the general anarchy she had tapped. She probed forward, and encountered an unseen barrier. "Perhaps I can teach something while I work. Can you see the warding? The Imperial Warding is an absolute bitch to work through, but it still serves a valid purpose." She pointed absently at a couple places over Aeyliea body. "Of necessity, this is not a perfect warding. It wouldn't do to make high imperial officials impervious to the Art, as this doesn't differentiate between good or ill sorcery. But its enough to make an assassin have a very bad day." She paused for a moment in her wedging threads between the gap in the Imperial Ward. "Especially trying it with this woman."

The ward was, of course, a fragile affair, as humans so often made. Or elves, for that matter - that prideful lot were idiots in the highest. Within the safe confines of that sorcerous warding, she had made a hole that she could reach through.

"I am afraid that my methods of Healing are far more crude and perhaps a touch brutal to the affair you Healers sport. My talents lie elsewhere. She will not thank me for this, at least not immediately." She raised her unnaturally colored eyes and met Therese gaze for gaze. "Force-healing is not a pleasant affair. I suppose you aren't going to come out of the closet now and do your job? No? Shame."

She had steeled herself before, for the initial touching, but as she drew much more deeply on that unseen power, she paled further.

This time, she did throw up.

---

Every jolting step was a lesson in agony, but she ignored it as best as she could. Whatever hurt she may feel now, there were more than enough men behind her to make it hurt much worse. She'd had her fill of steel for the day.

For a flickering moment, the hand that reach out to haul her into the shadows just about found itself separated from its owner. Recognition crossed her face in the brief moment, and she let go of his arm, releasing pressure just shy of what was needed to break it to flinders. "You," she hissed between panting breaths, and then grabbed the offending arm and hauled him unkindly along into a shattered building.

"I do not know where we are or why, but I do know that there are a lot of men who want to get better aquainted with me, at the very least, and I have no desire to meet them. Those are Imperials, I'll lay opath on it." But how? The Empire had been ashes and dust for longer than she had been alive.

The sound of armored footfalls from behind spurred her on to greater speed.

---

It was not, perhaps, as spectacular as it should have been. There were no flashing lights or sounds to accompany the feat of magic. It was almost painfully mundane. And it was certainly painful.

From the first moment the Sidhe laid her hands on the soman, sendign threads of power questing through her broken body, she stirred. A soft mewlinmg escaped her lips after a few moments, and as the flood of power rose, her hands clawed, digging at the bed. Muscles strained beneath her sweat-soaked fglesh, and the first cries arose.

She had little love for this kind of work. Still, the ability came in handy from time to time, and if the recipients weren't especially thrilled immediately afterwards, eventual they gave their grudging thanks.

As Aeyliea's whimpers and moans turned to shouts, and eventually full-throated shrieks of howling agony, the womans performing the minor miracle swayed drunkenly, the euphoria of the Art battling with the filth burned into her flesh. That filth fed on the power she drew, too, and attacked her mind, body, and soul with a fervor only rivaled by the most fanatic of the Gods' followers.

It felt like an eternity, and seemed like a bare instant, but the small woman released the flows as suddenly as she had taken them up, and the woman on the bed relaxed finally. The visible flesh of her once broken arm was an angry mottled blue and red and black, and her other hurts were likely equally as traumatized, but her breathing was stronger, more even. The pale cast to her face could have simply been the result of exhaustion, which it certainly was now.

She stepped back from the sleeping woman, and fell on her rump soundly, watching as the world spinned slowly to her eyes. "It is done," she said thickly, wiping a hand across her mouth. She didn't even seem to see the smear of red left on her arm, or note the blood that trickled from a corner of her mouth and on nostril of her nose. "I need a moment, I think, to recover."
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Larit » Wed Oct 03, 2012 1:18 pm

They raced through the city, ducking in and out of ruined buildings, running along empty alleys, but still the solid fall of feet was behind them and drawing slowly closer. It became apparent to Larit that those that chased them knew this city a lot better then they did and it wasn't helpful that both he and Elarial were both injured. His wound still bled, but not as much as it should be, and it appeared her wounds weren't healing as they once did back in their previous battles. Whatever was happening here seemed to be a boon to him and a curse to her.

But those thoughts were pushed aside with the knowledge that they were slowing down while their pursuers closed in on them. The trail of blood he was leaving was making it too easy for anyone to find him.

"Hide," he said calmly to her as they stumbled around another corner and faced a split in the road. "Imperials, you said. You have knowledge that may keep you alive, but right now, I'm useless. I'll lead them away. I was dead before I even came here." He held up his cloth-covered arm, already wet with the blood. How much longer would that take to kill him? Larit wasn't sure and he didn't want to go out on its terms, only his own.

Without waiting to see if she had followed his suggestion, he dug a finger into his wound, spilling more of his own blood on the ground. He fought the dizziness and pain away and then was moving again, taking the western road, leaving a fresh trail of blood that any child would have been able to follow. He just wondered if they would be so focused on that that they would miss any sign Elarial had left his side.
User avatar
Larit
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 30
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2012 8:10 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Wed Oct 03, 2012 9:05 pm

She shook her head at her companion. laughing inside her own mind at the stupidity of his chivalry. If it was chivalry, and not a desire to save his own skin without having to worry about his conscience should she die, somehow, which in of itself was laughable.

"I don't even know why we are running! They will catch us soon or late." Her words echoed after him, and he did not turn or slow as he ran, laying a useless false trail that would indeed lead the others on after him. It was a shame there would be others ahead of him, and to his sides, all converging to trap him. Which was why she was not at all surprised to see men appear down the other fork, calmly walking towards her with steel drawn and arrows knocked. She sighed, and held her hands up.

"I am not armed," she said as they drew closer, but if nothing they grew more uneasy, eyeing her like a coiled viper. "Either kill me or take me captive, I care not which. But stop pointing those damned things at me unless you mean to use them."

A laugh sounded from the back of the advancing men, as even more arrived from behind. There numbers were not so great as it had first seemed - perhaps twenty or thirty from in front, fifty from behind. It was clear they were either taking no chances. Regardless, from those men and women in brightly polished armor, many with the cast helms that resembled dragons' heads, a lone figure emerged.

Elarial grimaced. She knew the man, and well - if he was not as brilliant as Aeyliea on the field of battle, it was only by a hair. "Fist Galan. A surprise and a pleasure."

T%he man merely scowled at her as he came to stand in front of her, unconcerned with the threat she posed. Fist of the Empire, the man was like a mailed fist shaken in her face. Though not of high nobility, the man carried - had carried - much duty during the War. He was of common birth, like many of the nobles within the Empire, and a soldier to his soul. He was tall and graying where his hair wasn't thinning, with a bristly beard and mustache that were more gray than red.

"I had not thought to see one of your ilk again, but I suppose I should not be surprised." he gestured to a couple of men behind him, and they came forward with chains. "A formality, you must understand. I am sure you could break them if yopu wish, but not even you can survive being turned into a pincushion. For long." His smile was feral, and held little warmth.

"It is unecessary, but as you wish. I am not here to fight you; your Empire is as dust on the wind."

"Be that as it may." He turned from, her, and spoke as he walk, his voice acompanied by the sound of shackles and chains being put in place. "The Highest wishes to know a great many things about you and the others that have just arrived. You in particular, as your kind have been banished from the realm in any case. Once we get what we need from you, you will be executed for the war crimes you and yours have committed against the Empire."

She said nothing. There was little else she could expect, really. Pushed forward, she followed at the heels of the Fist, curious, and perhaps a touch ill at ease. What in the name of all the damnable Gods have I gotten myself into?

----

There were no horses here.

It was an irritating detail of this place, one among thousands, and right at the moment Tandric regretted the lack. Their little pocket of a world was small, but still not so small as to be walked across quickly. There had been no messages from the general of the capture of that blood-eyed woman or her accomplice. And so far, they had not made contact with the interlopers.

He traveled amongst at least three hundred armed men - a hundred pike and two hundred bowmen. They held their stiff formation with the ease of long practice as they marched along the ravaged street, steel gleaming in the odd sunlight. Among the pikemen were perhaps twenty of the Dragon Guard, one of the elite units of the Empire. He only wished he had more, but here it did him little good to even have one. Still, if these strangers posed any threat, they could mete out a swift blow that would cripple or destroy them and be done with the whole affair.

He traveled alone and in silence. It was only proper that the commoners amongst the soldiers not speak to him, and as none of the officers were noble either, he was forced to walk alone. Sometimes the lofty places of the world could grow lonely, but he had learned to deal with that long ago. Alone, but with power. And he had power, and craved more.

"Highest?" Tandric looked down, at the downcast face of a young soldier, or at least young in appearance.

"Speak," he commanded, and the boy continued on without looking up. "Highest, the enemy has been sighted. They are three streets away now, Lord."

"Tell the sergeants to split the unit in half, and envelope them as best we can. No one is to attack unless they attack us first."

"Lord."

He watched the departing back of the young man with a thoughtful expression on his face. What would this lead to? And what, if anything, could he gain out of the situation?

He walked on.
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Larit » Thu Oct 04, 2012 11:54 pm

Rounding a corner, he was almost as startled as the soldiers he ran into. Almost. His hand lashed out, fingers extended and rigid, and jabbed at the nearest soldier's throat before he could cry out. Feet moving in the dust, he spun around and grabbed the man underneath his chin, his forearm against the man's back, and twisted. A satisfying crunch of bone greeted him and then he was moving towards the next. This soldier was more prepared, having already drawn his blade.

Grabbing the man's wrist and snapping his free arm against the man's elbow, he pushed with all his strength and took a small amount of pleasure in the cry of pain. The sword fell from the man's broken arm and Larit was quick to grab it, spinning around on his heel to face the nearest threat. Only then did he truly understand the danger that he was in.

The street was crowded with soldiers, all fully armored and armed. Heavily armed. The only reason he had been able to fell one of them and injure another was simply because of the surprise.

"Well, who's next?" he asked calmly, the sword weaving in front of him as he tried to get the feel of the blade. It felt unusual to him and Larit couldn't quite place the the feel. He had wielded countless blades from nearly every city, every weaponsmith, and this one was not even close to any of them.

One of the soldiers moved to lunge at him and Larit moved to parry. He was halfway through the parry when he realized his error. He was too close to the buildings, too bunched together with the soldiers. As his sword flickered to parry the soldier's, two rushed two his sides. He knew he could avoid one, but not both, so he took the one to his left. The sword snaked up again, too slowly, and was easily batted away by the soldier. And then the world was darkening again, pain racing from his skull.

A soldier stood above him, hilt raised to give the man another blow to the head.

I stood, smiling, as my father handed me a shining gold coin. I was going to be allowed to make my first purchase! But what did I want? I knew mother had been eying a certain pendant from the jeweler. Maybe I could get her that.

Flicker.

The Master held a gold coin to my father and he cupped it close to his chest. My heart sank but I knew what the future held for me. I was raised for this, I know, but it doesn't make the action any easier. I was being sold. That gold coin, I knew, would feed my family for a month.

No, not my family. Not any more.
User avatar
Larit
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 30
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2012 8:10 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Topheh » Sat Oct 13, 2012 7:54 pm

But the Physician hadn't needed to say anything at all. As soon as she had moved to rebuke him, Imrilsam had seen the prone and broken form of the commander behind her, and had fallen silent. He bore the shouting stoically, and merely nodded his understanding once the woman finished, knowing that all his questions could be answered later... after the Death.

And so it was certainly unexpected when suddenly they were joined by a newcomer, a Sidhe, who although new to their company, didn't seem fazed by their surroundings. Imrilsam had only seen a few Sidhe ever, and typically from afar. Although there were more of them in the world than a few decades ago, or at least so his parents and grandparents had told him when he was younger, they were rare enough to still make children point and exclaim whenever one did appear. The mage approached Aeyliea and Imrilsam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as, presumably, she began to work. Imrilsam put a hand to his forehead, feeling a dull ache spreading from somewhere deep inside his brain. Moments later, it faded as the Sidhe rocked backwards. Imrilsam looked over his temporary commander. She would live, now. Moving forward to the unsteady Sidhe, he offered an arm for support.
User avatar
Topheh
Traveler
 
Posts: 203
Joined: Sun Sep 27, 2009 10:58 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Therese » Mon Oct 22, 2012 9:28 am

The Physician was struck dumb by what she saw, nothing in all her training could ever have prepared her for watching the Sidhe woman work. Her time at the University had taught her the value of mundane methods, of surgery and chemistry, of observation and acceptance of the fact that sometimes wounds and sicknesses where beyond the skill of mortal man or woman to heal. But this...this was something altogether different. How many patients had she had to stand by and watch die who might yet live if only this kind of power had been brought to bear upon them? The sudden realisation left her feeling weak and sick to the pit of her stomach, the wasted lives crowding upon her thoughts.

The library had hinted that magical healing had once existed but for generations the elder council had insisted that such stories where just that: stories fit for a child's bedtime and nothing more. Stories or not, such tales had always drawn Therese to them, she had read and re-read them endlessly, hoping always for some clue that might lead her to the truth that she was sure lay at their heart. She had always told herself that there had to be some kernel of truth to the stories, that they couldn't have just been made up out of nothingness. Time and again she had convinced herself that even if true magical healing didn't exist that perhaps there was some more mundane medicine responsible for the stories, something that she could harness for the good of all her patients. But the stories in the library had led her no where.

When the time had come for her to make her journey though - to step outside the walls of Lissileum - it had been those same stories that had ignited a fire within her. Perhaps the truth at the heart of those stories was further away, perhaps all she needed was to get away from the influence of the elder council. The old Physicians were hiding something, she had been sure of it and now the truth of it really was before her. The thought of the council's deception left her mind reeling, how many had they condemned to death all because they refused to acknowledge the existance of magical healing?

She put her hand out to her novice and steadied herself against him. She had much to think about. Should she try to leave this place now and return to Lissileum, force the council to explain themselves? No, the elder council was far too powerful and influencial to be brought down by a single Physician. She would need proof, evidence that could not be ignored or made to disappear, she would need to learn the secret of harnessing magical energies for herself. And even then she was just a single woman, it would not be enough, no she would need to draw other Physicians to her, she would need the support and voices of others to speak out against the council even if they tried to silence her.

The magnitude of what needed to be done shocked her. But it did need to be done; how could she keep silent about this and still call herself a Physician? She had sworn an oath to protect those under her care, to heal them and bring no harm to them. If she ignored the reality of magical healing then every single one that she let die would be a stain against her, an unforgiveable crime that she could not bear.

"This...", she gestured weakly at Aeyliea, at the Sidhe, at what she had seen in general. "This is not known at the University of Lissileum. They told us it didn't exist, that it was just a child's fairy tale". She turned away, unable to bear the sorrow that threatened to overwhelem her, there had been so much pain, so much death, so much suffering - anger flared within her suddenly - and all of it preventable if only the Physicians had been made aware of this other mode of healing.

Therese pulled herself together, straightening up to her full height. "Come along Boy", she gestured to her shaven-haired novice, "We may not be able to help here but there are others amongst the refugees that our meagre skills can aid". She took one last look back at Aeyliea, "And we need time to think on what we have seen here".
It's frightening. Unexpected. Frankly, a total utter splattering mess on the carpet.
But I am certain — one hundred percent certain — that we can work this out. Trust me. I'm the Doctor.
User avatar
Therese
Lost Soul
 
Posts: 10
Joined: Sat Aug 04, 2012 7:52 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Topheh » Sun Jan 13, 2013 1:14 pm

Imrilsam eyed the Sidhe and Aeyliea, but both had gone silent and still, clearly recovering from their shared experience. For not the first time, Imrilsam wondered what it would be like to have magic... to be capable of doing great acts merely by thinking it.

He shrugged his shoulders and carefully let go of the Sidhe, who remained standing on her own, thankfully.

Turning, he left the silent tent and caught up with the Physician and her apprentice.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. That was a Sidhe back there. Who knows how long she's been alive and what tricks she's picked up along the way. Plus, just look around. The rules here might be different... I'm pretty certain we're not anywhere in Tonan anymore."
User avatar
Topheh
Traveler
 
Posts: 203
Joined: Sun Sep 27, 2009 10:58 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Wed Jan 30, 2013 9:51 am

The Sidhe sat on her backside, eye vacant as the world swam before her. Such feats were impressive, to be sure, but a far cry from the grandiose abilities she had once held. Before the accursed curse, of course, and before the world itself had descended into madness and ruin.

She stared at the sleeping for, and contemplated. How many hundreds of years, nay, thousands had she lay in wait, holding this world by force of sheer will? Even now, it threatened to fold and become the nothing it once had been before Seska herself had imposed a stronger will upon it. This whole world had form and shape because she said so. Even so, it wasa thin world. Only partly real, removed from time as it was.

With glacial slowness, she got back to her feet, levering herself up on her intricately carved staff. The tent had emptied out while she sat in repose, and a faint grin quirked her lips as she wiped the last of the drying, flaking blood from her face. A moment, and the tent became smaller, the sleeping woman laying upon a cot, decked in blankets. It did not become smaller, and she did not suddenly appear on a cot. The cot didn't suddenly appear either. It was as if these features had always been here.

Satisfied with the work, she shifted - a trick, in this world, that required no talent at all. She was in the tent, and then she was standing before Imrilisam, staff firmly in hand.

"Not in Tonan, he says," she nearly grinned. Nearly. "There is an odd saying that comes from a world mirroring ours, or perhaps simply another world altogether. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." She paused, and then she did laugh. "As if I have any clue ass to what Kansas or a Toto are."

That mirthful expression vanished in a trice, replaced by one every bit as penetrating as the former was joyous. "And now, sir, if you would kindly explain what you are doing in this realm?"
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Topheh » Fri Feb 01, 2013 1:19 am

Imrilsam took in the Sidhe sorceress, and simply replied.

"Honestly, I have absolutely no idea. We were fighting a losing battle, some sort of monster appeared and fought our Captain, and then... we were here. I'm sorry, I'm still not entirely clear. Where is here again?"
User avatar
Topheh
Traveler
 
Posts: 203
Joined: Sun Sep 27, 2009 10:58 pm

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Aeyliea » Sun Feb 03, 2013 10:02 pm

"If you ask me, sir, here is where ever it is. And we have problems enough to contend with without trying to tackle that problem yet."

The young officer strode up, dark circles beneath his tired eyes. His armor was dented and spattered with blood and gore, and gaping rents in the armor leaked blood, hinting at injuries within. Tired though they were, those eyes were sharp. He glanced at Imrilisam momentarily, then cast a searching look at Seska. She stood, imperious and in command even though her features bore the pallor of long sickness. That aura of command was further enhanced by an unnatural sense of realness, something that everything else in this world lacked. He shook his head, slowly.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" The Sidhe's head swiveled towards him, tired looking yet startlingly clear eyes of pale and lustrous purple. She blinked slowly. "But it would appear with the Commander dead, that you hold the most authority here. It pleases me to inform you that an unknown force of men has neatly surrounded us in this square." His tone of voice was far from pleased.

The Sidhe just smirked tiredly, casting an unreadable glance around the square. Each avenue that led away was walled thickly with pikemen and swordsmen. Archers filed up onto rooftops, arrows knocked and often accompanied by men or women in clothing only slightly different from that of the regular soldiers, sans steel armor. They wore leather, and many appeared to bear staffs or wands and other odd accoutrements. The smirk took on a condescending quirk as she looked upon the lesser wizards and sorcerors of this world.

"I wouldn't worry about them." She turned back to Imrilisam. "It is another world and yet it is not. A small pocket of reality outside of time. Think of reality as a kind of cloth, and we'd be a coket sewn onto it, yet not truly a part of it." Whether the man understood it or not, she showed little interest in. The boss of this little world is displeased by all of the sudden changes. Alas, he is not the mistress of this realm, even if he thinks it so."

She turned and went at a somewhat halting gait, headed for one of those broad avenues that had sprouted a hedgehogs' worth of spines and pointy bits. Now to look closer, heavily armed and armored men were gathering their, bearing helmets crafted in the likeness of dragons' heads.
Now nimble fingers, that dance on numbers / Will eat your children and steal your thunder;
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl / will crunch like nuts in the mouth of squirrels.

Yeah, its Seska. Start running now, bitch.
User avatar
Aeyliea
Explorer
 
Posts: 402
Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:57 pm
Location: Kansas

Re: An Echo of the Past (Ch.2) {OPEN}

Postby Topheh » Tue Feb 05, 2013 11:41 am

Imrilsam's head swam. A pocket of reality? What was that supposed to even mean? How did one create one? How would one... leave? And wait, did the Sidhe just say that there were people here?

The Sidhe set off, and Imrilsam followed her, taking long strides to catch up.

"Wait. Are we stuck here? If we leave, won't the other army just attack us again? And..." Imrilsam trailed off as he saw the gathered soldiers waiting ahead. It looked as if he might not have to worry about the other army after all...
User avatar
Topheh
Traveler
 
Posts: 203
Joined: Sun Sep 27, 2009 10:58 pm

Next

Return to Within the Empire [RP]

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest

cron