Alastair Q
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From outside the physical realm, his voice now calls.
Through Time's expanse, his call echoes for all to hear, whether they be strong or weak, disciplined or chaotic, cultured or primal.
Even when Lore herself shudders as Chaos' strangehold increases with each passing day, something stirs in the ether. Ever since Swordhaven fell into ruin following the Hero's climactic and tragic battle with the Chaos-bloated Dragon and even the late King Alteon himself, unease and suspicion have filtered into Oaklore, with effects on both the realms of the physical and the realms of the mind.
Oracles present in the area detect a malign presence, carrying hints of non-human origin, yet with psychic power unparalleled by those save for the Blue Mage and the Mad Weaponsmith themselves - those brave enough to attempt to link with the mind find themselves plunged into insanity or desiccated by crimson flames.
The Mages of Arcangrove tell of a shift in the Para-Elemental Plane; large amounts of mana are being directed by some unknown force, and siphoned in great quantities to the coasts of Thunderforge. For what purpose, no-one knows.
In Thunderforge, the situation grows dire - the skies above crackle with the energy of nascent thunder, emboldened by raw, undiluted mana. Waters bubble and hiss, and the inhabitants of Falguard grow brooding and morose, waiting and anticipating the dire events that will surely befall them.
In haste and fear, Empress Gravelyn and the de facto King of Swordhaven, Brendan of the Neverglades, have arranged a private meeting in the Ruins of the Neverglades, to discuss away from prying ears what must be done about this new threat.
Both must know what to do - mustn't they?
Chapter I
The pattering of unseen feet, the whispering wind wailing, all these sounds accompany the long-forgotten Ruins.
Here, neither Man nor Nature rule, it is a place devoid of life, outside interference and outside the petty, trivial wars of all the mortal realms. This place has survived when others have not, and though tarnished with the stains of past crimes, it stood proud when Gilead fell, it stood still when Sepulchure's Fortress fell from the skies, and still stood solemn as Swordhaven burnt to the ground.
Corrupted with the stain of darkness not from this realm, the Ruins had held steadfast through successive attempts to civilize the area; it was only when King Alteon saw his Knights could not purify the detestable place that he withdrew from the area, leaving the darkness to simmer and fester alone. The only things awaiting here are silence and shadows.
"A fine place, then, to speak without spies." thought Empress Gravelyn, leaning quiet and thoughtful upon one of the pillars of the accursed place, clutching a holy dagger to dispel away the darkness of the night.
"Where is that Brentan?" she thought. She had a battlefield to fight on, soldiers to command and a Champion to pull down from his blasphemous throne. She had no time for half-truths and rumors of something from beyond, but just this once, she was willing to investigate.
"If he continues his absence, I will -" Her thoughts were interrupted by a very different sound from behind. This footfall, lacking in the grace and demeanor of the strange animals here, rose and fell, stumbled through loose dirt and cracked twigs beneath, and all in all, it was nor surprising for Gravelyn to turn, sword drawn to find a most ghastly figure, not unlike the King she held an uneasy alliance with.
Brentan, for all his faults and idiosyncrasies, once held great potential as King of Swordhaven, and had King Alteon lasted just a while longer, it is possible that perhaps the kingdom may have fared better. Alas, it did not.
His armor, once proud and gleaming, held pallid and lifeless to world-weary limbs, rusted and dented not by the fires of battle, but from age and misuse, almost falling apart, but just holding together through virtue of its craftsmanship. His (perhaps) charming features now held a certain anemic disposition Gravelyn was unnerved by, with skin stretched taut over bone, hair unruffled and unkempt, and perhaps most disturbing of all, the King (or so he called himself) muttered and whispered to himself as he walked, caring not for any other presence save his own. Eyes darted left and right, clouded with a paranoia quite unlike the Brentan of old, and in sporadic moments, his reverie would be punctuated with little bursts of anger; it is unclear whether it is grief which has driven him into this sordid state.
His stature carried with it an aura of growing malice, and from a distance, Gravelyn may not have even told him apart from any half-sane Oracle sent mad by the revelations this world held for the naive and priggish.
Arriving before her, Brentan acknowledged her with a nod of his head and a hand upon the handle of his sword.
"Must you be so late?" inquired Gravelyn, her tone sharp and biting.
"Of course not." retorted Brentan. "I had... business to attend to."
Even his voice came across as warped, never quite mastering sentences, instead choosing to muddle intonation and pronunciation with a tint of madness.
"Now, we both know why are here. There is something, something, something upon the outskirts of the Thunderforge, and from what I have heard, the presence grows with power each day. If we do not do something soon, its power may, given enough time... eclipsse both our own. And I - I cannot allow such a t-t-thing to happen." Brentan just about said.
"I cannot afford to sacrifice troops for this endeavour - you and I both need as much manpower as we can get so the Hero is able to defeat Drakath and bring the presence of Chaos to the end it must receive." replied Gravelyn.
"Then... why do we not simply send one man?" said Brentan.
"One man?"
"One - one man. One agent of the realm, to be transported into Thunderforge with the express purpose of finding out just who or what this source is, and eventually find a way to terminate this threat to our existence for good."
Now, Brentan appeared to be more alert, striding to the left and to the right, his body thrumming with newborn energy, though whether this is due to the risks of this incursion into Darkblood territory, or simply his growing loss of sanity remains to be discerned. Gravelyn nodded at his proposal, before of course, providing her feedback.
"Now, where would we find this one person? Who could possibly carry the fortitude to penetrate into a realm of evil?
The Hero is away fighting Chaos, as is Victoria -"
"Do NOT mention that traitorous fiend!" interrupted Brentan.
"She is a pretender to a throne that is rightfully mine, all after Brittany, oh, sweet Brittany, was taken from me by His tainted hand. Do not mention her once more."
"If you insist. Who do you suggest we send?" asked Gravelyn.
"I do not know."
"You do not know?"
"I do not know."
"Then why am I - no, why are we both here?
If we cannot even choose one soldier to investigate this threat, why are we not both helping rebuild our kingdoms?"
"Because there is something I did not tell you, Gravelyn. It is I who will be volunteering for this." announced Brentan.
"You?"
"Yes."
"You?"
"Yes. Is this a problem?" said Brentan, matter of fact.
"Of course this is a problem! Swordhaven is bad enough after Drakath's meddling, but with the absence of a ruler, anarchy will most certainly consume the city!"
"And it has not already? I have Tara to rule over; she will be a nice leader until I return."
"You are trusting a child? A child with the ability to summon dragons against those she loathes?!"
"Yes. Is this a problem?"
"You must be foolish to think your city - well, supposedly your city, will fare well without a fair ruler. You are truly mad, to think one like Tara can keep the city together."
"Oh, ye of little faith. Why not take risks?"
Aggravated by Brentan, Gravelyn restrained herself from returning to Shadowfall, and so retained her calm composure.
"Brentan, you must stay in Swordhaven. Keep the place running until Drakath is defeated - then we will sort the matter of who is the rightful ruler of Swordhaven."
"Nonsense. I will go, I must. For the glory of Swordhaven!" shouted Brentan in fervent passion, looking out at nothing which he thought to be everything.
"And to think I arranged this; it is clear I should have spoken to Vi-"
"Do NOT mention her!" roared Brentan, fueled with anger and now lunging towards Gravelyn with sword in hand.
Deflecting the clumsy blow, Gravelyn returned with swift, sharp swifes, managing to inflict benign damage to Brentan's armor and leaving shallow grooves upon the chestplate.
Analyzing and inspecting for signs of weakness, Gravelyn lunged with startling alacrity at Brentan's exposed neck, hoping to bring the battle to a standstill.
Brentan surges backwards, the sword missing his neck by inches, and filled with rage, he ran towards Gravelyn, sword clutched with two hands.
He slashes at her once more, but the Empress is ready and parries his blows successfully and succinctly. Lunging forwards, her sword draws fresh blood; a little scratch, and all she has done is anger Brentan. Not expecting further reprisals, Gravelyn moves for the knockout - only to have a shield impact her face, stunning her momentarily.
Dazed and confused, it was through a mixture of sheer fortitude and luck that she blocked Brentan's sword swings, keeping herself safe from imminent death. Smashing down onto Gravelyn, he swung his sword in wide, haphazard arcs, slamming the weapon down onto her armor and pummeling her into submission - or so he thought.
Unbeknwonst to him, his attack had little effect on Gravelyn's resolve, and though her burgundy armor crumpled under the pressure, it still held steadfast, and so with deft agility, Gravelyn flicked Brentan off his legs and so sent him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
Ready to teleport him back into his ruined palace, Gravelyn moved to apply the proper incantations, but before she could do so, an unknown presence crashed into her side, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground.
Rising unsteadily, Gravelyn was sent back once more, this time clutching her sword and ready to face this new threat. Gazing upon the beast, she took the time to inspect it as Brentan defended himself, gibbering all the way and slashing wildly.
The beast towered both her and the gaunt King, skin black as the darkest twilight. The only semblance of color upon the beast was the blood-red of its claws and the white glint of unnatural eyes, and the body of the beast was rippled with cords of unnatural muscle, absorbing the little light which shone upon the ruins.
Rows of teeth about the mouth clinked and rattled together as the creature inhaled and exhaled, parting to reveal the mouth as the daemon roared with a cry capable of curdling even the most stalwart warrior's blood.
Atop its head, two curved horns gleamed with wicked purpose, the midnight skin writhing and twisting with unnatural movement as i something was waiting to burst out at her and Brentan. With not a moment to spare, Gravelyn prepared her hex.
Hurling arcane magics, Gravelyn ignited the epidermis of the beast with blinding fire, sending it into temporary convulsions as Brentan hacked at the daemon's back. Rising back up to its feet, the beast shook off the worst of its wounds as it reconstituted before her eyes, and lifted Brentan up with one hand clutching his throat.
"R-release me!" choked Brentan, struggling to breathe.
Inspecting him in return, the dark monster looked at his countenance, visibly disappointed with the so-called King; muttering in an indecipherable tongue, the beast threw him slightly to the side, knocking him to the ground with ease and cackling at its inferior opponents.
Howling with pride, the daemon strode towards Gravelyn, equally battered, but not out of the fight just yet.
Preparing to harness her powers, Gravelyn once more muttered the proper spells and let out a blinding volley of pristine light, the rays encapsulating the beast fully and utterly. Focusing the might of her arcane powers, the Empress honed the rays into the center of the daemon's chest, dark flesh burning faster than it could remain whole.
Roaring with pain, the beast sent a dark volley of projectiles towards her, ceasing Gravelyn's attacks, and now it was charging towards her - only for it to stop dead in its tracks.
Gravelyn paused, only to notice that where the creature's chest was, there now remained a sword stuck through it - Brentan's sword.
Looking down at a wound which by all rights, should have killed the foul entity, the daemon laughed. It laughed as it pulled the sword from its crevice and shattered it into pieces, this time turning at incalculable speed and attacking Brentan.
Brentan had no hope; the beast was faster, stronger, and by all means smarter than him, but Gravelyn came prepared.
Clutching her holy dagger, she knew she had one chance only - and so it was she leapt atop the creature's back, stabbing and plunging her knife deeper into muscle and sinew.
Screaming with pain, the beast attempted to shake her off its back to no avail, wailing as the weapon seared and caused irreparable damage, weakening the monster until at last, it was no more, and so slumped onto weary knees, sighing with the weight of defeat.
Wasting no time, Gravelyn drove her sword through the weakened daemon's head, sending it scattering in a cloud of darkness which dissipated into the air.
Sighing as her body groaned with dull pain, she turned to find Brentan on his knees, pleading to some outside force she could not detect.
"Bring her back! Please - bring her to me." he cried, tears running down his face.
All at once, she felt a twinge of pity for this fallen warrior - such an aspiring ruler should not be reduced to moments of weakness like this. Placing one hand atop his head, Gravelyn applied the proper incantations and sent him back into Swordhaven.
"Oh, he'll be angry - now the question remains, who will investigate the presence?" thought Gravelyn.
Before she left, she noticed a glowing red rune on one on the ancient pillars - presumably the source of this creature's presence, and so it was she educed the pillar and its foul hex into dust with a flick of her fingers.
Satisfied with her work, she transported herself back into her fallen fortress, contemplating alone who must return to Thunderforge and do what must be done.
Many miles away, Thunderforge has reached a booming crescendo.
The thunder and lightning above roar and spit with incalculable levels of energy, coalescing and amalgamating as more and more mana pours from the Plane of Magic.
Inside Falguard, Commander Madra's Seer observes the phenomenon happening before his eyes, feeling powerless to stop events unfolding in front of him.
Suddenly, the collection of energy above the skies and within the clouds wavers slightly, growing erratic and unstable in movement. Moving to alert his superiors, it was to the Darkblood Seer's surprise that the Presence now spoke to him.
"The walls betwixt reality and my prison are beginning to weaken, at long last."
The Order thought they could keep me imprisoned - but no mortal, not even those adept in that hallowed Light will stand proud against my might!
Now, my time grows near. If there is a message I must give, it is this.
In the past, I fell and they rose; now I rise and they fall, as decay spreads over the tottering cities of Men.
Collapsing into convulsions, the Seer now trembles, muttering half-truths and half-lies, but to the Darkblood, their scryer has all but become unhinged.
< Message edited by Alastair Q -- 5/26/2014 5:30:40 >
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