Rotting Rogue: Archival

[jadewik]

Tordek:
"Something is afoot tonight, I can feel it. The night is cold, and menacing, the shadows dance for someone else...

Murder it may be, but not my blood. Not now, not by these hands. Assassins you may be, but your target is no fool. Strike and we will see who it is with the bloody finish..."

..::The lamp light radiating from the trim just above the back door of the Tavern was glowing faintly. It had begun to weaken as he emerged. Tordek stood facing south, behind to his left was the door, and directly behind him was a narrow alley. Before him though was open space for twenty or so feet. His trained eyes, surveyed the grounds to the roof tops, in a fluid fashion rotating in search of who he knew was out there::..

..::It would take a true master to surprise him, and for that the young elf was confident. His blood was bold, but he kept his wit sharp. Turning with keen awareness he shot his looks down the dark alley at the sound of light feet. It turned out to be nothing more than a cat scrounging for a few scraps of tossed food::..

..::The night was windy, but still it was dry. He could feel himself begin to sweat. Instinctively he knew that a being was there, but for once he was incapable of spotting it or even hearing it. This being he dubbed a Lord of Shadow, a threat to the bard and rogue. In his mind he cursed, but his visage showed no emotions::..

..::Then it came, just as he began to pivot about to search the open space, he felt a sharp blow. There was no pain as it had come much to quick. An instantaneous blackness followed. He had barely time to give a hough before his eyes closed as he dropped to the ground::..

"Callous fool...What hubris."

..::His attacker, wreathed in black, as if he commanded the night and shadows for the way they enveloped him, opened his cloak to take in the elf. Without a trace, they were gone::..

[jadewik]

Ebon-Ashe:
Refraining from telling Curulan she's already sitting, Ebon-Ashe resisted the urge to give dedman the verbal lashing of his life. She listened to her husband intently, wincing when he called her "the afflicted". She winced again when Curulan explained the full ramifications of the curse-- becoming a lesser vampire.

The impending change into lesser vampire didn't seem so bad, she already lusted for blood; however, her current lust was more a bloodlust for killing. This carnal lust would be more of a desire to consume. Her current excitement over a pint of blood gushing from a wound she'd made might in essence be exaggerated beyond her control putting her at great risk in battle or worse yet, putting those closest to her at risk.

She rubbed the skin on her arm to relieve it of some of the tingling running through it. The whole arm was nearly black now. It felt devoid of blood-- empty and soulless-- though a part of her.

In a moment of anger, she slammed her fist on the table.

"That bastard, Hoth'ar," she snarled, "I'd like to stab him with his own precious little dagger shard and see how he likes not knowing who he is. If he had a heart, I'd rip it out."

Ebon would have proceeded with the whole sordid affair of the plans for killing Hoth'ar she'd already formulated in her mind, but an idea struck her. She turned quickly to Dedman.

"The dagger you brought over here, it did come from the area where I met Hoth'ar, correct?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "If that's made out of what I think it's made out of, I know why it's a fake and I know where to find the bastard Hoth'ar."

Turning to her husband, she looked him straight in the eyes, "I'll need you, my sweetling, to take this dagger to your friend and have him appraise it." She spoke vaguely, hoping not to reveal too much about what she'd seen when linked to her husband. "I need to know everything about this dagger-- especially the material it is constructed from. If my guess is correct, that dagger is made of a volcanic rock called obsidian and not Onyx."

"Obsidian, is significantly more fragile than Onyx. It is my belief that a spell woven into Obsidian would not be as potent or work near as well as it does Onyx. Hoth'ar is obviously trying to duplicate the dagger that stabbed me. He may or may not have noticed the difference in the materials."

"Well," she said standing, "now that you two have things to do, I should be getting back to my prison. I know my way."

She stood and pushed her chair in, hoping there would be no objections to her leave taking. However, she didn't intend to go straight to her room. Ebon-Ashe had some business she wanted to take care of first.

[jadewik]

Tordek:
Now for either two reasons, the fact that Tordek was not a fool, or that somewhere in his mind's subconscious he had a hope that Ebon Ashe or at least someone from Titan that he was friendly with would come and search for him. In actuality though, it was probably the root that was sticking out from the ground that his finger was arched over that pulled off his silver wedding ring when he was picked up off the ground. Either way, that was the only piece of evidence that was left behind in that alley way.

Now awoken, all he could feel was a constant bobbing and the flow of air, as if he was being thrown through the skies like a small toy. He could see nothing nor hear anything. Again, darkness covered him as the sensations became to much for him and he simply fell back into a black void.

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Hothar:
Hoth'ar sweats in the fissure, ordering his crew to keep mining the volcanic glass that has built up on the outside since the last eruption. He glances back down the shaft at the translucent, robed figure whom the glow from the lava below somehow failed to illuminate.

How can they stand this heat?, he wondered to himself? He had always thought these unknown emissaries had been something other than human, but now he was sure of it. Hoth'ar walked nervously down to rejoin him, where a makeshift office was set up to accompany the forge they had put there to process the collected obsidian. After what seemed like an eternity, the robed figure speaks.

"Six times you have failed us."

Hoth'ar, clearly losing his patience, picks up a chair and throws it at the figure. The chair passes through the figure and falls into the magma below, burning to ash faster than it can sink through the viscous liquid. The figure repeats himself.

"Six times. Do I need to review your failures and your punishments?"

No, you don't, Hoth'ar thinks to himself, but I know you're going to anyway. The half-there, half-not one continued on as if to answer Hoth'ar's thoughts.

"Your first failure was killing the one you call Thaer. His power was far beyond yours, and would have proved useful in resurrecting Our Master, should the curse have taken him. Your life of servitude was your punishment for that."

Hoth'ar had always felt a personal stab with that one. The arrogant old man was always delaying his ascension. Thaer couldn't have led the that clutch Shadow Mages forever, as old as he was. It was all in due time.

"Your second failure was naming Our Master before his resurrection. For that, we killed all those in your clutch. Your third failure trying to turn that elf. She has little of the power we seek. For that failure, you will die when your service is no longer needed. Your fourth failure was damaging the dagger. For that, you will spend the rest of your days in this volcano."

Hoth'ar sighs. He didn't have to hear this. He was strong enough to challenge these creatures... wasn't he?

"Your fifth failure was using Light to enchant the first replacement dagger. You were instructed fully on what magic to use. Your sixth failure was letting it fall into the Mediator's hands."

Hoth'ar is rather irritated at this point, and snaps. "How dare you speak to me that way! You are but a servant of Our Master!"

Suddenly, the shadowed shape moves, an unseen arm stretching out from under the robes. Hoth'ar is thrown back against the way as raw Shadow mana courses through his body. After a few moments, when the pain subsides, the Shadow Mage stands. The robed figure speaks again.

"If I am a servant, than you are a servant of a servant. Do not forget your place. We gave you what you wanted, and in return you have failed us in everything we asked of you."

Hoth'ar mutters to himself under his breath, but the shadow is not yet finished.

"We have captured one whose turning may provide us with the power we need. Although his power comes from Air, his potential is greater than yours. One of us will return to check on your work here. Do not fail us again."

With that, the shadow dissolves into the air, leaving Hoth'ar alone with his wounds and his workers.

[jadewik]

Tordek:
Groggy and disoriented, Tordek could not see but only hear. He knew not where he was. Things were strange, he could hear the sounds of distant beings and what sounded like their work but could not identify either. He felt somewhat warm, but perhaps that was his heart's racing causing him to sweat. He was not sure if his eyes were open or whether they were closed for he could only see black.

He did not feel as if he was bound, but either he was completely listless or tethered for he could not move. His body felt frozen.

From nowhere the ground beneath him began to sink. He was powerless to stop it and knew not where he was falling to. In a far distance he could hear the voices of elves. Their language he understood, though it sounded hollow and without life.

Again there was black.

[jadewik]

Ebon-Ashe:
While she had been sitting at the table in the tavern, a thought had occured to her. There was something odd about the seal and label on the wine bottle that Tordek had brought to her in husband's quarters. Not wanting to make it appear as though her intentions were to return directly to Curulan's room and thereby draw attention to the note and item the elf had gone through such care to conceal, she would take her time returning. Yet, she had to think of some convincing business to take care of to detract any attention from her real intentions.

Standing at the door to the stables, the smell of straw, oats and horses permiated the air. Closing her eyes, Ebon-Ashe drank in the smells. For some reason, they'd never seemed so potent as they did now. The smell awakened old memories long forgotten. Her mind tantalized with the feelings that accompanied those thoughts, began to give her ideas.

Arglie snorted from his stall and Ebon's trip down memory lane came to a halt.

"So you did miss me afterall."

Argile pawed the ground and nuzzled Ebon as she approached him, hand extended, and rubbed his muzzle. Argile's coat was matted and dirty. She gave him a wirely look and scolded him, "Been giving the stable hands a hard time, I see."

Looking around her, she found the brushes and began to untangle his mass of a mane. He really had missed her, she could tell because he was thriving on the attention he was getting now.

When he was sufficiently cleaned and brushed, Ebon gave him a quick once over, cooing softly to him and making certain he was alright. Satisfied, she slipped him a couple carrots and some oats, gave him a quick pat, and turned to leave.

[jadewik]

Tordek:
When he had awoken Tordek could hear the sounds of chains. Things were still dark but no longer could he feel the canvas wrapped about him tangling his body. Rather now he was cold, icy cold. Looking up all he could see was dark ominous shadows and a chilling blue. He felt himself being raised but he knew not where he was.

Before him now he believed he saw demons. Their faces were indescribable but filled with cruelty, hatred and disgust. With wretched hands and ghoulish teeth they clawed and bit. He was terrified yet he did not let forth a scream. He was limp and listless, incapable of doing anything. Things began to turn and images blurred. His head began to spin and blackness soon was the only thing Tordek could distinguish.

Now faintly below him it seemed there were eerie and evil voices. When they spoke it was as if bone was being crushed and blood spewing forth.

Turning his body, attempting to flee, his efforts were futile as he was bound by massive chains around his wrists and ankles. Then suddenly a wrench of pain flooded his entire body. He jerked and the chains rattled. It was as if he was being set on fire, but from the inside.

This all being too great, the poor pathetic elf lost consciousness and tumbled into a world of chaos.

[jadewik]

Curulan:
Curulan departs through the portal at the Dragon Tower once again, this time in less of a hurry than he had before. When he reaches the Portal Room, the Keeper of Portals addresses him. "Going to see the Lost One again?"

Curulan shakes his head in negation. "No. I need to speak with the Circle, this time."

The Keeper frown pensively at this, and folds his hands in front of himself formally. "Every time you meet with the Circle, clerann, it's because of bad news. Hopefully you have good news for us this time, eh?"

Curulan shrugs. "I have no idea. I only know that I must speak with them. My wife's life is at stake, and I have a feeling that the Empire of Ghalek is on the verge of resurrection, if it hasn't already."

The Keeper doesn't know whether to spit in disgust or to sigh in exasperation. "Those bloody necromancers. Not only did they almost destroy the Balance five thousand years ago, but they almost conquered their whole damned sector." He presses a switch on his console, and one of the portals in the room opens. "They're expecting you. Let's hope this war ends in less bloodshed than the last."

Curulan's voice holds little emotion as he approaches the portal. "It won't."

He steps through, and the portal closes behind him.

[jadewik]

Ebon-Ashe:
The walk to Curu's quarters was uneventful. She fumbled a bit for her key before opening the door. Upon entering the room, she quickly made for the bottle the rogue had left her.

She quickly removed the Brooch. Peeling back the label revealed the message he'd left:

"Should you be needing anything, simply use the brooch. A dream spell will be cast, and your wish will be brought to me while I sleep..."

She had a mission for the rogue now. He would be resourceful enough to scrounge for and find information on Obsidian or Onyx mining in the realm. The rogue had never failed her yet.

She took the Brooch in her hand, not knowing exactly how it worked. Closing her eyes, she spoke aloud her desire to know information on Obsidian or Onyx mining in the realm and any other information on the material he could come up with.

Feeling rather foolish as she finished, she pocketed the brooch. Ebon was not a fan of magic and had no idea how to tell if this spell worked or not or if it could be used multiple times.

Sleep was tugging at her wits. Climbing onto Curulan's bed, she closed her eyes to catch a few winks.

[jadewik]

Tordek:
Falling deeply into a tormenting darkness Tordek's eyes were seemingly opened and before him was a stone. It was shiny, yet hard and ever so cold. It was onyx he made it out to be. There flickering in a reflection off of the stone was Lady EA's face. It was then that he realized that it was the dream spell that he had given her.

With the last bit of his energy, he focused on what he believed to be his image from outside of his body. The stone vanished in a haze and now there was a blue cavern. Inside were shouts and cries of pain and terror, where maniacal laughter and the sounds of torture could be heard echoing in the walls. Faces danced in the shadows, while bodies wrenched and contorted in jolts of pain.

There lay Tordek drawn by chain and quartered. Elves and humans could be distinguished by their facial shapes, despite the cloaks that were wrapped around them. Tordek's hanging body, clinging for life in this cavern of death would feed back into EA's mind the moment her body fell asleep.

With that last bit of energy, Tordek's eyes hung heavy and his head low. All went black once more.

[jadewik]

Ebon-Ashe:
The shadows in Curulan's room began to list and grow into great arms of darkness. Stretching out across the room, they ensconsed the sleeping rogue and permeated her dreams.

She was dreaming of battle. Her wild heart lived for those moments in her youth when she'd been a mercenary, but her older self had learned temperance... still, in dreams, she'd entertain those wild thoughts of youth.

In this dream, she was fighting the shadows. Ill equiped for such a feat, she wasn't doing so well. Long arms of shadows reached out of the red and grey mist surrounding her. Grabbing her by the arms. She futilely hacked at them with her broad sword. When enough of the arms had grasped her, she couldn't even swing and was drug deeper into the swirling mists.

Then, the arms released their grip on her. There was a light that permiated the darkness and broke apart the mists and shadows. Ebon, now freed and still wielding her sword, strode towards the light while shadowing her eyes with an uplifted hand. When she reached the light, there was a blinding pulse and then normal light in the form of several lit torches pervaded the chamber.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the new lighting. When they finally did, she scanned the room.

The room appeared to be chisled into the rock, as the walls weren't brick and were uneven in portions. In the center of the room was the body of a man. She gasped as she recognized him as Tordek, composed herself, and cautiously stepped forward, reaching out to touch him...

[jadewik]

Tordek:
Down and down he tumbled, both literally and metaphorically. His body was falling down a shaft yet he had no sensation of moving. His eyes could barely transform the images for his brain, and all of his sensory perception was slowed down dramatically. His mind had become his own prison as he was drenched with a feeling of self-reproach and shame that were bundling themselves into self-hatred and scorn.

Images of his childhood flashed by him: his mother's beauty and graceful talent with her magic and devotion to learning, his fathers jovial smile and mischievous grins as he watched his young son open his presents holding a unique surprise within waiting to be found. He then saw himself and his music tutor. If he had a weapon in his hand he would have slain him right there, he knew not why he had such hatred for himself but he could not stand looking at the images. They were bright and colorful, while his present surroundings were dark and ominous.

To the onlooker, Tordek's body was limp and weak, but sweat could be seen glistening in the faint light that pierced through the orifices of the cavern. His limbs shook periodically, jolting as if his body was in a convulsion brought on by some sickness.


Meanwhile inside his head he could see a birds eye view of himself. He was standing, but his figure was not proud but brooding and dominated. His head hung low and his eyes were heavy. Shadows and dust swirled around him, encircling him, as if to taunt his powerlessness and triumph over their success of his capture.

In this dark moment Tordek was fighting a war against himself, to keep his spirit and soul. He was loosing.

[jadewik]

Ebon-Ashe:
The body in front of Ebon-Ashe was slick with sweat, which glistened in the flicker of the surrounding torches. She pulled her outstretched hand back quickly as wonder was replaced by anger.

If you're going to torture someone properly, you do it yourself!

Still wielding her blade, she took a mighty swing at the chains holding the body up. The blow was deflected. Ebon grabbed the sword with both hands and took another swing. Again, the blow was deflected. Infuriated, she hacked at the chains several more times-- each time, the result was the same.

In fury, she sheathed her sword and propped her feet against the wall, pulling. All to no avail.

It wasn't until she took out her silver dagger and began hacking at the wall that she noticed that she was doing good. Her silver dagger, which was immune to magic, had more power over these enchanted bindings than brute force. It took some time, but she was finally able to lower the man gently to the ground.

Kneeling there, staring at him propped against the wall, she caught a glimpse of something familiar.

No, It couldn't be!

Moving beside Tordek, she cradled him in her arms and ran her fingers through his hair.

Her beloved Tordek... the best rogue of all the Titans (including Ebon-Ashe herself as well, but she'd never admit to it aloud) captured?

She sat there caressing Tordek's cheek as she stared at the wall, her anger festering and growing within, and plotted her revenge.

[jadewik]

Tordek:
Tordek's childhood had been a wonderful experience. But now when he saw it all playing out before his eyes, he was filled with an unspeakable rage, a desire to destroy that young boy that he knew would grow up into the man he had become. He watched his fondest memories of his father, his mentor, and his mother flow before him hand in hand with the blackness of self-reproach. The images were self-mutilation to his mind, his eyes filled with derisive perception. It was as if crystal and pure water had been contemptuously made vile by sewage and muck of the foulest kind.

The images began to blend and the bright greens of his forest home changed. The sky was now crimson with a streak of orange. He recognized the day immediately. He was in Artrisia, fighting alongside Azrael at the time. He saw the battle ensue before him. The Order's charge. What fools he thought now. All of them. Didn't they know that in this world, hope neither existed, nor could it ever? What did they see in a caped wizard who was driven foolishly by the loss of his father. It gave him power at least, the power to fight. He saw Curulan atop a horse. Oh how he wished he could draw his longsword and make a clean strike at his head now, oh how he wished it! It was Curulan he felt that had him here now, watching these damn visions, the reason his body and soul were not connected. He knew it, he knew not how, but that is what he believed true.

Laughter then filled his head, the laughter of a woman. The battle seemed to fade and the faint glow of the Golden Griffon appeared as if it had evolved from the drop that Artrisia had become in his mind. He could see himself with a sly smile. The kind of smile that he had felt his lips pull in years. It was the smile of a sly fox, a snake, who fed off what was given, what he could obtain from his wits and hands, what he could steal. She could change it all. She could help him. She could bring him out of this. Suddenly he realized that she was all he wanted now. He would have her, as the true prize, as the true theft, the theft that would be his life time's accomplishment. He watched her lines, her demeanor. One could see that she was a woman, but with that spirit and attitude she became something that was completely untamable, and far more than any woman. She was Ebon Ashe.


It was as if his desire was linked to his physical pain. His head began to swell with pressure as if it was about to burst. He gripped his temples. He could feel them throbbing, but harder than he thought was even possible. He was on his knees and then quickly on the floor of the tavern. Blood began to flow from his ears and nose. Nobody around seemed to notice or care. He was twitching, his muscles contracting and his body contorting. His back arched and his eyes went pitch black. A faint smoke like wisp crawled out of his mouth.

His mind went blank.

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Ebon-Ashe:
Her anger was like a corked bottle being given a shake. Hatred burned within her and fury showed itself in her eyes. The dark iris of Ebon-Ashe's eyes began to look a little amber in the light. The black stain on her arm seemed to come alive as it spread at an alarming rate up the length of her arm. Ebon's soft caresses against Tordek's cheek slowed to a crawl before stopping. Eyes, narrowed to slits, Ebon-Ashe continued to stare at the wall.

Softly and subtly at first, she heard it-- a soft pounding noise. Thump-Thump. The noise seemed to call out to her... "Don't fear. All will be well."

She heard it again and again-- Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump-- Each subsequent time she heard the noise her own heart raced with excitement and black stain seemed to pulse as it began to travel up her shoulder. Fury was replaced by loving lust... and then, just as quickly as the stain had begun to move up her arm, it stopped.

This whole time, Tordek's body still resting against her, Ebon-Ashe noticed nothing except the calming beat she'd heard that both soothed and beckoned her soul.