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The Krystal Diminishes

 
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6/26/2008 0:25:45   
Ciaran
Member

"Nnngg..." Krystal woke up slowly, with a slight headache.

Ugh... what in the name of Corathai did I do last night? I don't remember drinking anything.... why do I have a headache?

She shook her head to clear the mental fog she always had in the morning, then tried to clear her eyes with her hand before starting her morning workout. Her arm, however, refused to move. They seemed to be tied behind her back. She tried moving her legs, but they couldn't move either. She strained against the binds, but to no avail. After thinking for a bit, her eyes still closed, she concentrated. Gray fur with splotches of dark red sprouted from all over her body. Her face mutated into what resembled a wolf's snout. Her fingernails lengthened into claws, and her muscles grew significantly larger. Krystal had transformed into a werewolf. However, she could feel her hands getting cold as the binds on her wrists dug into her skin, cutting off the blood flow. She decided to not risk losing her hands and morphed back to her human form, the transformation completely reversing itself. The fur even shrank back into her body, leaving no trace that it had been there to start with.

Okay, no problem. I'll just burn the binds and—Krystal cried out as her attempt to cast was met with an incredibly painful burning sensation at the base of her skull. She reflexively tried to cover the back of her head with her hands, but again, they were tied down. Note to self: burning through rope bindings will result in massive rope burn.

Realizing she couldn't break free, Krystal stopped struggling, opened her eyes, and looked around.

This isn't my bedroom...

She was in a completely dark room, bound to a chair as if she were prisoner. The room felt unnaturally cold, and the air had the barest scent of mildew. The air felt extremely dry to her, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Few places on Damantos were as humid as the rainforest she grew up in. The chair she was bound to was placed in front of a circular table which had two chairs on the other side of it. There were unlit torches on the walls and no windows that she could see. Considering that Krystal could see quite well in the dark, that meant there weren't any. If she had to guess, she would say she was in the war room in the Tower of the Shield. That warmed her up a bit.

Hooray for darkvision, she thought. I told Sam being a bloodwolf wasn't a curse. How did I get here? Last thing I remember, I was ambushed by paladins in Vivios—"Augh!"

All of the torches lit at once. She clenched her eyes shut, but it was too late. The war room had been replaced with an all-encompassing white. Her eyes burned; she had been blinded. The door to the room creaked open, and footsteps approached her. She estimated they stopped about six feet in front of her, right at the far side of the table. "Krystal of Vivios," a voice that she presumed was the new guy said. "I heard the cry. How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," Krystal admitted, her tone shaking just a little. "I have never been bound like this before." She lightly pushed against the binds for emphasis. "The base of my skull is burning from whatever you use to block spells, and I cannot see, thanks to the torches."

"That's normal for first-timers," the voice said. There was the barest hint of sympathy, as if he were trying to hide his feelings. "The restriction creates fear in the subject's unconscious."

Krystal nodded, having a basic knowledge of psychology herself. She asked, "What am I here for?"

"We needed to talk to you."

The bound adventurer found her forehead creasing on its own. "Why the binds?"

"We had to make sure you wouldn't try to escape or fight." Again, there was a slight hint of emotion in the voice, but it wasn't sympathy. More like sadness.

Ow. That hurt. "I see... With whom will I be speaking?"

"Someone else," the voice said. "Here he comes now. Bye." He was getting fainter as he spoke...

"Hello, Krystal," said a slightly different blur of colors walking towards her.

Krystal might not have been able to see who it was, but she recognized the voice. She felt the tension leave her body as her muscles relaxed. Her voice lost its shakiness. "Hello, Luther."

The silver blur sat down at the opposite end of the table. "How's your vision?"

"The torches blinded me when they activated," Krystal answered, "I can see blurs of color but nothing else. I recognized your voice. What am I doing here?"

Luther's voice changed tone. "Last week, we sent some scouts to Felia Island to explore it. When they got there, however, they were attacked by the island's inhabitants. After a few minutes and a couple casualties on both sides, we managed to stop the fight and talk to the Felians. They claimed that they had already been visited by a human female, who helped them rid their island of orcs and Draconi. After she did that, she proceeded to conquer the Felian people and kill their king."

Despite herself, Krystal took a sharp breath. She could make out fuzzy shapes and lines now, and Luther did not look happy. "That is terrible, Luther. But what does any of that have to do with me?"

"The human they described," Luther continued, "was you. Peach skin, long red hair down her back, wearing white armor with red trim and a gold cape. And the name she gave when asked who had bested them... was 'Krystal.'" Luther looked across the table at the woman—girl, not woman, she wasn't even twenty—who had once been one of his top young officers. Like the Gattans had described, Krystal had long dark red hair that went halfway down her back, light-colored skin, and deep red eyes. Her bust was nice, around what Terrans would call a C cup. Today, she was clothed in simple brown and green leather pants and long-sleeved shirt, of the kind usually used for camoflauge in a forest. Luther had never been able to figure out why she always wore such covering clothes when she had such an attractive body.

Krystal hung her head. "I am sorry, Luther..." was the only thing she could say.

Luther remembered Krystal's rise to the power and respect she commanded. She had started as just a green paladin, like everyone else, like himself even. She quickly rose up the ranks to become one of his youngest officers. She had served the Paladin Order flawlessly, carrying out both of its missions. Not just destroying the undead and eradicating evil, but the other one, the one that only the highest ranking paladins knew about. Even after learning the ways of the necromancer, her loyalty had never wavered. And now... she's just a common criminal. "You were one of the best. What happened to you?" She didn't answer. Luther got up and left, putting out the torches.

Krystal was left to herself in the complete darkness of the war room. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. I'm sorry, Luther...
AQ DF  Post #: 1
7/7/2008 23:46:10   
Ciaran
Member

Chapter 2

Krystal was alone in the war room in the Tower of the Shield. She had greatly disappointed Luther, and that was worse than the pain her conscience gave her for taking over Felia Island. She wasn't crying anymore, but the paths the tears had taken were still quite visible.

A voice started talking in Krystal's mind. So what now? The Shielders don't trust you, and probably most of the adventurers have heard of you by now. The paladins trusted you with their most closely guarded secret, and you have betrayed their trust. Whatcha gonna do now?

Whoever you are, Krystal thought, just go away. I'm not in the mood to talk right now.

You sure about that? I can get you out of this situation if you do what I say...

Last time I listened to you, I committed the crime that got me here. I'm done doing what you say.

The voice didn't respond to that statement. Instead, it said, I'm surprised you haven't figured out how to get out of here. It's really simple.

You saw what happened last time. I'm not strong enough to break the binds, and I can't cast without horrendous mana burn. I cannot escape.

Those are conventional methods. Try the unconventional. All you have to do is transform one finger and saw through the rope with a claw...

Krystal slowly morphed of her fingers into a Lycan claw. It grew gray fur, elongated, and her nail lengthened into a sharp claw. After twenty seconds of sawing through the rope binding her right arm, it fell to the floor. Now why didn't I think of that? she thought.

Because you're an idiot?

Shut up. She didn't bother sawing through the other ropes. Instead she just pulled them off with her free hand. Now I can get out of here.

You don't think ahead very much, do you? said the voice.

What do you mean by that?

Where will you go now that you are free? What's your subtle plan to get out of the tower without being noticed?

I got that last one taken care of. Krystal backed up and charged through the wall of the war room, falling out of the tower. She transformed into a bloodwolf and flew up to the top of the Tower of the Shield. One of the bricks she knocked out fell onto a hapless young adventurer, killing him instantly.

Her sense of compassion flared immediately, nearly bringing her to tears. She had more important things to think about, however, and forced the emotion back. She needed to get away and find a place where she could mull over what she had done without distraction, and how best to atone for it.

You call that subtle? the voice interrupted.

Would you prefer I torch the place?

Touché. So where to now?

Quiet, I'm trying to think. I could go to Varsevo... She shook her head. No, that 's the first place they'd look. Maybe to Zanai? I could get help from Solus... No, they'd expect that, too. I need to go somewhere they'd never expect... Suddenly it clicked. Krystal stopped off at Frazhel's shop and ripped out a page from his spellbook, then flew off to the last place on Lore that anyone would think to look for her, the last place most would think she would ever want to go.

Krystal knew there was one that could find her no matter where she went, but she didn't care. She needed that person more than ever now.
AQ DF  Post #: 2
8/24/2008 18:07:13   
Ciaran
Member

Chapter 3

Vivios Forest at nighttime was often described as beautiful. The forest itself was very tall, at least one thousand five hundred feet, and spanned the entire continent. Unlike all other forests on the planet, where the branches started sprouting at an altitude of fifty feet, Vivios's branches started sprouting at five hundred. The canopy filtered the moon and starlight, casting green shadows of all shades on the tree trunks, making a nightly light show as the branches and leaves swayed in the nighttime wind.

A man stood alone in a clearing near the forest's exact center. It was a hundred-foot-diameter gap where no trees grew, quite rare in Vivios. The lack of trees created a blindingly bright area which faded into the normal dimness thirty or so feet into the foliage. His light blue skin and black hair were easily visible, even to one with the weak night-vision of a human. He wore an odd choice of clothing for the area: ebon leather. Such marked him as a vampire hunter; those who killed as easily and wantonly as most hunters were considered scum by the Vivios elves. His dark brown eyes glowed an eerie color that cannot be accurately described.


The man held a gold-colored axe in his hands, covered in dark but viscous blood. He took a small sample of the blood with his tongue, and then his eyes lost focus. After a moment, he spat the blood back out.


Ugh, he thought. What a horrible taste. Human, vampire, and werewolf in one. After a few seconds, a magic-infused aftertaste began to set in. Well, I'd know that taste anywhere. The man sighed. What did she get herself into this time? The scent still fresh in his system, he began to track his quarry.


After about half an hour of following the girl's scent, dawn began to break. The man hissed at the sunlight, despite its weakness from the forest canopy, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. By the scant light of the new dawn, he could see relatively fresh tracks in the ground. However, there were two sets of tracks instead of the one set he was expecting. The blue man knelt down and put his palm to one of the footprints in the dirt. He then dug down a little to test how compacted it was. Heavy armor, probably male based on weight. Also most likely carrying something or someone. He moved his palm to the other set of tracks and did the same. Slightly less compacted. Female, same type of armor. Not carrying anything beyond normal equipment. He scooped up some of the dirt and sniffed it. His face immediately screwed up and he dropped the sample. Ugh, smells like paladin. He was of the belief that paladin magic was so overused that it smelled foul to anyone attuned to magic.


The man heard a rustling sound from the bushes nearby. Fearing that more paladins were around, he literally vanished from sight.


A young man in golden armor stepped forth from the bushes. The engravings on his shoulder plates indicated that he was a second lieutenant, probably fresh out of the academy. The paladin looked around for a bit, then muttered to himself and went back into the bushes.


The man in black cautiously phased back in, then walked another three hundred yards or so before stopping. He whistled out a call that varied in pitch from high to low and back, warbling much like that of a canary's song. A beautiful hawk flew down from the trees and perched itself on his left shoulder.


"Drevan... I need you to take a message to our friend." The man impressed the recipient, message, and probable location of the recipient onto the mind of the bird. The glorious bird of prey screeched softly, then flew off to deliver its message.


The man then continued tracking his quarry by the scent of her captors. They could at least try to cover their tracks. The stench of their magic is just too obvious.

< Message edited by Ciaran -- 8/30/2008 15:43:55 >
AQ DF  Post #: 3
8/27/2008 13:12:08   
Ciaran
Member

Chapter 4

Luther, commander of the Order of Paladins, looked up from his desk and glanced around his office again. It wasn't much. Like the rest of the Tower of the Shield, the walls, floor, and ceiling were made of prison-grey stone. Unlike the rest of the Tower, he had requested planks of balsa wood to cover the walls, floor, and ceiling to create a more comfortable work environment. The wood itself had been enchanted to prevent mold, mildew, and rot.

To the right of the entrance was a wooden bookcase stuffed to the brim with dust-covered legal, magical, tactical, cultural, and historical references, including the true nature of and reason for the undead. Hanging on the wall opposite the bookcase was a portrait he had painted of his dream girl, the vampire queen Lamia. It even had her signature, written in an eye-catching blue. None of his men believed it was real, but he didn't care. He knew it was real, and that's all that mattered. Sometimes he would take a break from work to just gaze at the picture for a couple minutes. He found it quite relaxing.

Two finely but plainly crafted chairs sat in front of his desk, but he preferred to make his men stand. The desk itself was covered in neatly stacked papers of different sorts; a few reports here, some promotion recommendations there, personnel records in that stack over there... Most would lose track of everything in a jumble, but he kept it meticulously clean. Doing paperwork just to lose it was a waste of time, after all.

By the goddess Lucia, Luther thought, I hate paperwork. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking over the papers in his hands. A personnel record that needed to be filled out for one of the new recruits. None of his officers or non-commissioned officers had time for it, and most of the enlisted men didn't know what a file cabinet was. He didn't have time, either, but it needed to be done. For all the efficiency of his paladins, they still had to keep records. He hated it. I wish there were some sort of adventure or quest I could go on. Too bad they don't just walk in and say "hi."

"Hello, sir."

Luther quickly returned all four feet to the floor when he heard the sound. "Oh, hello Corporal," Luther said, looking at the man's rank insignia. He was actually a Lance Corporal. What do full corporals think of being addressed the same way as a Lance? "I didn't hear you come in. What is it?"

"Message from the third floor prison, sir." The corporal handed Luther a note.

"Thank you. Dismissed." The corporal came to attention before performing a slightly wavering about face and leaving. Luther didn't care about the imperfection; parade ground moves were good for show, but nothing else.

I wonder what this is... he thought. A notice that they need more cleaning supplies? More food? A fight between prisoners? Why would it need to be sent to me? It was written in the Order of the Shield's communication code. He stepped over to the bookcase and searched with his eyes for a moment, then pulled out a book titled "Secret Paladin Code Manual. Authorized Personnel Only". He brushed away the dust and started to decode the message in his head.


BIRDY BID BAI-BAI BREACHING BULKHEAD
Prisoner Got Away Breaking Wall

BRICK BONKED BYSTANDER BROKE
Stone hit innocent, killed

Luther sighed when he finished decoding it. Why did they encode this? It's not secret. It's not even deserving of a written message. Still shaking his head, he walked out of his office towards the war room. At least it's a break from the paperwork!

When Luther arrived, he found a Shielder in front of the chair Krystal had been tied to. The young woman's rank insignia indicated that she was a private first class, equivalent to a paladin lance corporal. She looked up when she heard Luther's footsteps.

"Ah, Mr. Luther. Good to see you. I'm Celia."

"Can we skip the introductions?" Luther asked. "I want to know what happened here." I can already see what happened here, I want to see if you know what happened here.

"Of course, General," Celia answered. "Krystal sawed through the ropes that were binding her using a dagger. How she got it out, I'm not quite sure. Then—"

"No dagger," Luther interrupted. Celia looked at him, confused. "Lycan claw." Luther held up a strand of rope and pointed at the end. "This is too frayed for a weapon," he explained, "and too clean to be broken. She used a claw."

Celia blushed a little. "She simply pulled the other ropes off of herself instead of sawing them off. She's pretty strong," the Shielder observed.

Luther nodded. "And where did she go from here?"

Celia turned to the big hole in the wall. "You can't guess, sir?" She blushed a deep red after realizing what she said. "Oops... Uh, she broke a hole in the wall and flew off," she continued nervously. "There aren't enough footholds for her to have climbed down. One of the stones that was knocked lose hit a young boy on the head and killed him instantly."

All this so far has been obvious. Let's see how well she can think. "Where did she go from here?" Luther asked.

Celia thought for a moment. "She's a bloodwolf, a creature of darkness..." she thought out loud. "I would guess Varsevo or Phasmurbis. She also sides with the light realm, so the Lucian castle is a possibility, too."

Luther clapped Celia on the shoulder. "Good textbook answer," he commented. "I know her, though. She won't be in the obvious places."

The young Shielder looked up into Luther's face. "Where would she be, then?"

Luther smiled. "Think about it," he called back as he walked off.

Celia watched as Luther turned at a junction down the hall and left her line of sight. She promptly heard a loud clanking (was that a swear?) as he almost slipped on the recently-mopped floor. A smirk tried to show itself but was quickly repressed. That went almost too perfectly. If only Luther had let slip where she went... Eh, that's easily figured out. An insignificant setback. She gazed out the hole in the wall and noticed a hawk circling above the town. Well well, what have we here? Birds of prey do not circle...

< Message edited by Ciaran -- 8/30/2008 15:53:18 >
AQ DF  Post #: 4
9/1/2008 16:13:10   
Ciaran
Member

Chapter 5

I'm such an idiot, Krystal thought. What on Damantos made me think I could fly from Akhan to Felia? I should have just teleported.

You didn't for a reason, the voice reminded her. Teleporting can be tracked. You even know how to do it.

Doesn't mean they know how. She mentally sighed. Still... Frazhel is an archmage, and he lives near the tower. It's a safe bet he'd know.

Why don't you just teleport now?

I'd fall into the ocean before the spell was finished. I'm good at many things, but multitasking isn't one of them.

Her eyes closed for a few seconds, and she dipped toward the water a few feet. The abrupt change in velocity woke her up, and she leveled out again. She scanned the water for anything she could land on but found nothing. I need to rest...

Levitation spell?

Wouldn't last long enough to get there.

But would it be long enough to rest?

The voice never got a response. Krystal's eyes closed again, and she plummeted toward the water. This time, however, she didn't wake up.

This might hurt a bit, the voice commented despite having no listeners. Surface tension is murder from this height. I hope her wings don't break off.
AQ DF  Post #: 5
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