Thunder shattered the still summer night. Arane Ganderfald’s dark blue eyes snapped open as night rolled into silence once more. For the first time in years, she was not spending her night under fine pure white linens with her head resting on a down pillow. Instead, she was seated in the corner on the cold stone floor of the officer’s quarters in the remote armory she had chosen as a Baronial manor. Her decision to take this remote locale had confused many and even she herself did not completely understand the choice. However, as she sat motionlessly listening to the rumbling sky, she was thankful for the solitude the armory provided.
Despite the late hour, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. The events of earlier in the evening at the challenge for the mantle dominated her thoughts. Her personal security had always been assured first and foremost by the Nausikaa reputation but the ever present bodyguards and her imposing husband certainly aided in dissuading any would-be attackers. Therefore, before this night the last serious threat to her life had been quite some time ago.
As the head of an international organization which worked both inside and outside the law and as someone used to controlling all those who surrounded her being grabbed by someone working for a Warlord in the Arena was a deeply disturbing event. However, what truly bothered her was not that a stranger had held a knife to her throat but that her life had been threatened merely as a bargaining tool. Her status had been dropped to that of a plain wife to be used by others to manipulate her husband. The thought truly disgusted her.
Her vehement revulsion broke through the quietude that had swallowed up her life as of late. Now fully in her thirtieth year of life, she could clearly see how being a wife and mother had mellowed her both personally and in business dealings over the past several years. A flash of lightening lit up the sky and was followed shortly after by the rattling boom of thunder.
As the thunder faded, the night faded back into eery silence. Even the mournful calls of the bullfrogs and crickets that lived in the surrounding areas were missing this night. A ghostly feminine chant softly rode through the howling wind. Even though her mind was completely preoccupied with another matter, Arane’s body tensed anxiously even before she fully understood what she was hearing. Her mind yanked her from her self-loathing back into the current moment.
While she had been told of the tales of other worldly encounters that were linked to this old armory, as a intrinsic skeptic, she had believed none of these. The sound did not go away. After taking a long moment to assure herself that the chant was not simply her imagination, she rose to her bare feet, her impractical stilettos abandoned on the floor, and strained her ears to catch the soft voice over the fury of the storm.
The ancient words broke through again with the grace of a mother’s lullaby. Hypnotized into a dull state, her feet began to move towards the opened door of the officer’s quarters and in the direction of the voice. She stepped out into the armory’s central courtyard, never noticing the chill of the summer rain or the thorns that struck out at her bare feet as she was assaulted by the angry storm. Spellbound by the chant that only gradually grew in volume as she drew closer, she entered the doorway of the weapons storage building. Her wet feet sloshed on the hard stone floor.
Poorly maintained torches along the walls suddenly sprung to life without a source of fire. The orange glow their flames cast off lit the room and created shadows which danced eerily on the walls. Still in the transfixed state, the magically lit torches did not frighten her nor did the wild casts of light they threw off. Her gaze had come to rest on a pulsating weapon hanging from the far wall. The chant, which seemed to originate from the blade itself, faded as the storm raged on but the light glowing from the violently red rubies strewn in hilt of the sword pulsed with the same primal rhythm as the chant. Arane’s gaze did not falter from this foreboding prize.
Both arms reached up to pull the sheathed weapon down from the brace that held it to the wall. The weapon proved lighter than she had anticipated. Her left hand tightly gripped the hilt as she pulled it free of the sheath. A searing wave of heat surged through the hilt of the blade and coarsed up the bones of her left arm. Quickly it spread through her body, burning her from inside out.
Her pained scream joined a clap of thunder as she blindly stumbled back out into the storm, unable to separate her hand from the blade. Thousands of needles of pain stuck her from inside her body causing every inch of her skin to crawl with the torture. Her petite frame crumpled into the grass, gasping for breath as the heat infiltrated her head and heart.
Her left hand tightened around the hilt of the blade as the pain escaped her. A connection burned dully in her heart – she felt it, the sword. The confidence it created, the outlet it allowed for her anger – it all lay there now in her head and heart. A curiously thin burn now zigzagged from her left hand up her bare arm. Her flesh was now tattooed with the mark of the blade.
Her right hand dropped into the soft mud in which her body had landed in as she pushed herself to her feet gingerly. Her nerve endings still rattled in numb shock from the quick onset and disappearance of the pain. The slender fingers of her left hand only wrapped themselves around the sword tighter. She stood there in the storm with the lightening illuminating the night around her. Her soaked black calf-length dress flapped in the rancorous wind. Her blonde curls whipped around her face as she surveyed her property for the first time in a new light, imagining new possibilities.
The power the sword offered would not be rebuked. While killing had merely been business in her life prior to this night, murder was now quite personal. Hate consumed her heart where no hate had existed prior. Their mission was clear. She would kill the Warlord who had wronged her but the killing would not stop there.
The blade in her fist called for Death and she was only too happy to oblige Him.
A storm brewing in Battlefield Park
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
-
Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
The final brutal rays of the day’s summer sun scorched the land as it fought falling beneath the tree line. The faint sound of hammering and laborers grunting with effort met the ears of the small group as the growing militia that Arane Nausikaa was building attempted to finish their day’s work before light became an issue. The labor force consisted of a number of foot soldiers and was led by seasoned experts. Of course, mercenaries were easy to come by in RhyDin. However, they were not needed. Her own personal security forces of Nausikaa Enterprises, mostly composed of Talsinians, were much more loyal.
The chaotic order of the new camp based in the armory in Battlefield Park reminded her vaguely of the chaotic order of her home in her old life. The thought brought up a rampage of emotions that she quickly decided were better off buried. Instead, she concentrated on the path ahead of them. She squeezed her thighs around the dark bay horse beneath her, pressuring him with her heels lightly behind his ribs and urging him on with a soft clicking of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Not much encouragement was needed as the stallion hated to be follow another horse. He was a leader and he firmly believed that out front is where he belonged.
The stallion came up beside the gelding that her head bodyguard was astride. The massive black gelding was just under seventeen hands tall at the shoulders with a thick, sturdy build yet the gigantic man still appeared to be riding a top a mule. Arane reigned in her stallion who tossed his pitch black mane in frustration. “Not a soul has seen my husband?” she asked quietly so as not to be overheard by the five guards following on horseback.
“Not since the challenge, m’lady,” he replied in a low tone as well, picking up on Arane’s cue without needing to be told.
She pursed her lips into a thin frown. There was a brief worry about the children that flashed through her mind. Three young children. A week without either parent. Although there was plenty of adult supervision in the Ganderfald household between nannies and Nausikaa Enterprise employees, the children would be confused and probably a bit frightened over the disappearance of both parents. However, before the thought even had a chance to settle, her anger boiled inside her so fiercely that it brought a bitterly metallic taste to her mouth. The thought of the children was swept aside by the intense, undirected emotion. “Be sure that they know that his orders are no longer to be followed if he reappears. Do you understand?” Although she had spent much of her life carefully guarding her emotions, she could no longer. Her tone dripped with burning acid.
Arane felt the guard’s eyes briefly shift in her direction but she did not meet it. Instead, she pretended to be quite intent on keeping control of the stallion she rode. After the briefest of hesitations, the man nodded. “Of course, m’lady.”
With that decided and no longer wishing to be subject to her bodyguard’s questioning look, Arane gave her stallion a bit more reign and he took advantage of the compromise by picking his pace up to a trot to round the guard’s gelding. The gates of the armory, which had just recently been restored to working condition, were still flung open as the small militia had little to currently fear. Bandits in the area were scared off by the sheer numbers and the group had done nothing to anger any larger local organization – at least as of yet. However, preparations were being made to change that. The armory was being expanded. More weapons were pouring in. The quiet locale was becoming a booming self-contained village.
A call went out when she was recognized and quickly stable hands appeared to take the tired horses for a well-deserved cool off and rub down before being stabled for the night. After handing the reigns over to an eager scruffy-haired preteen, Arane agilely swung her short leg over the stallion and her dirty boots dropped to the dusty ground.
The rubies in the hilt of the blade strapped to her back caught those last rays of sun and glimmered ominously. Her usual high-end threads had been replaced by tan leather. A pair of relatively loose leather pants sat low on her hips and were held in place by a thick dark leather belt. A matching leather halter top bared much more flesh that she had in her life prior , leaving quite visible the thin burn mark zigzagging up her left arm. She reached up that left hand to give the stallion a pat on the rump as he was led away.
When she turned back to survey the work completed, she found herself zeroed in on by another questioning stare. Edwin Nausikaa’s look was not fleeting, however. His piercing gray eyes were boldly set on his partner as he strode from the officer’s quarters towards his oldest friend. He hesitated momentarily as he caught sight of her disfigured flesh, a horrified look briefly passing over his features. Arane braced herself for the conversation she knew would come.
“What the hell is going on, Arane?” he asked in a mixture of incredulous disbelief and mild frustration.
His tone gained him a sharp look. She reached out to roughly snag his elbow, drawing him in closer and starting for a walk away from the ear shot of the hurried men. Although the grip was stronger than he expected from the petite woman, Edwin followed more out of shock than out of any physical control that Arane had over him. “Do not speak that way in front of the men to me, Edwin.” Her harsh tone was different – regal, frightening. “I thought you were in Talsiny.”
“I heard that you were demanding vast amounts of resources from the Talsiny division of Nausikaa Enterprises. I was curious as to what the purpose was for.”
“Well, now you see what I have been using it for,” Arane replied as she motioned around the humming military base.
Edwin could not help but allow a sweeping look around the garrison before once again settling his focus on Arane. “Darling, please tell me I have walked into some cruel prank. Where is Cletus? What are you wearing? What happened?”
“I had a great epiphany,” Arane stated concisely. Anger burned through her dark blue eyes.
His gaze once again dropped to her marked skin. “What sort of epiphany might I ask?” The question caused Arane to allow a bitter, joyless smile as if she was about to let him in on a great and deadly secret.
“I am going to rule RhyDin.”
The chaotic order of the new camp based in the armory in Battlefield Park reminded her vaguely of the chaotic order of her home in her old life. The thought brought up a rampage of emotions that she quickly decided were better off buried. Instead, she concentrated on the path ahead of them. She squeezed her thighs around the dark bay horse beneath her, pressuring him with her heels lightly behind his ribs and urging him on with a soft clicking of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Not much encouragement was needed as the stallion hated to be follow another horse. He was a leader and he firmly believed that out front is where he belonged.
The stallion came up beside the gelding that her head bodyguard was astride. The massive black gelding was just under seventeen hands tall at the shoulders with a thick, sturdy build yet the gigantic man still appeared to be riding a top a mule. Arane reigned in her stallion who tossed his pitch black mane in frustration. “Not a soul has seen my husband?” she asked quietly so as not to be overheard by the five guards following on horseback.
“Not since the challenge, m’lady,” he replied in a low tone as well, picking up on Arane’s cue without needing to be told.
She pursed her lips into a thin frown. There was a brief worry about the children that flashed through her mind. Three young children. A week without either parent. Although there was plenty of adult supervision in the Ganderfald household between nannies and Nausikaa Enterprise employees, the children would be confused and probably a bit frightened over the disappearance of both parents. However, before the thought even had a chance to settle, her anger boiled inside her so fiercely that it brought a bitterly metallic taste to her mouth. The thought of the children was swept aside by the intense, undirected emotion. “Be sure that they know that his orders are no longer to be followed if he reappears. Do you understand?” Although she had spent much of her life carefully guarding her emotions, she could no longer. Her tone dripped with burning acid.
Arane felt the guard’s eyes briefly shift in her direction but she did not meet it. Instead, she pretended to be quite intent on keeping control of the stallion she rode. After the briefest of hesitations, the man nodded. “Of course, m’lady.”
With that decided and no longer wishing to be subject to her bodyguard’s questioning look, Arane gave her stallion a bit more reign and he took advantage of the compromise by picking his pace up to a trot to round the guard’s gelding. The gates of the armory, which had just recently been restored to working condition, were still flung open as the small militia had little to currently fear. Bandits in the area were scared off by the sheer numbers and the group had done nothing to anger any larger local organization – at least as of yet. However, preparations were being made to change that. The armory was being expanded. More weapons were pouring in. The quiet locale was becoming a booming self-contained village.
A call went out when she was recognized and quickly stable hands appeared to take the tired horses for a well-deserved cool off and rub down before being stabled for the night. After handing the reigns over to an eager scruffy-haired preteen, Arane agilely swung her short leg over the stallion and her dirty boots dropped to the dusty ground.
The rubies in the hilt of the blade strapped to her back caught those last rays of sun and glimmered ominously. Her usual high-end threads had been replaced by tan leather. A pair of relatively loose leather pants sat low on her hips and were held in place by a thick dark leather belt. A matching leather halter top bared much more flesh that she had in her life prior , leaving quite visible the thin burn mark zigzagging up her left arm. She reached up that left hand to give the stallion a pat on the rump as he was led away.
When she turned back to survey the work completed, she found herself zeroed in on by another questioning stare. Edwin Nausikaa’s look was not fleeting, however. His piercing gray eyes were boldly set on his partner as he strode from the officer’s quarters towards his oldest friend. He hesitated momentarily as he caught sight of her disfigured flesh, a horrified look briefly passing over his features. Arane braced herself for the conversation she knew would come.
“What the hell is going on, Arane?” he asked in a mixture of incredulous disbelief and mild frustration.
His tone gained him a sharp look. She reached out to roughly snag his elbow, drawing him in closer and starting for a walk away from the ear shot of the hurried men. Although the grip was stronger than he expected from the petite woman, Edwin followed more out of shock than out of any physical control that Arane had over him. “Do not speak that way in front of the men to me, Edwin.” Her harsh tone was different – regal, frightening. “I thought you were in Talsiny.”
“I heard that you were demanding vast amounts of resources from the Talsiny division of Nausikaa Enterprises. I was curious as to what the purpose was for.”
“Well, now you see what I have been using it for,” Arane replied as she motioned around the humming military base.
Edwin could not help but allow a sweeping look around the garrison before once again settling his focus on Arane. “Darling, please tell me I have walked into some cruel prank. Where is Cletus? What are you wearing? What happened?”
“I had a great epiphany,” Arane stated concisely. Anger burned through her dark blue eyes.
His gaze once again dropped to her marked skin. “What sort of epiphany might I ask?” The question caused Arane to allow a bitter, joyless smile as if she was about to let him in on a great and deadly secret.
“I am going to rule RhyDin.”
-
Cletus Ganderfald
- Adventurer
- Posts: 58
- Joined: Sat Apr 24, 2004 5:38 pm
Cletus slowly made his way up the entrance road that lead to the front gates of the manor. He gave little notice to the increased security around the walls until he closed in on the front gate. There was an air of uncertainty surrounding the guards at the gate, and as Cletus approached them, their posture became more rigid and stiff.
“Open the gate,” Cletus barked, perhaps more caustic then he had intended. A week away from home had left him dirty, scruffy looking, and tired, but otherwise no worse off than the night of the challenge. The week had been spent gathering information on Ace’s new cohort and their movements. They had been quite busy.
Despite his appearance, the guards made no movement to open the gate.
“Open the gate,” he repeated, this time in his usual, calm but forceful manner.
After two of the guards exchanged a pair of uneasy looks, one of them finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re under strict orders not to allow you entrance.”
“On whose authority?” The question was pointless as Cletus already guessed upon the answer. However, he did not anticipate her reaction would near this extent. Before the guard could answer, he asked his next question. “Is she inside?”
Again the guard hesitated. He was instructed not to speak further about this with Cletus, but he still feared the man standing before him. Despite being ordered not to answer to Cletus, Cletus still wore the Nausikaa ring, and that carried a great deal of respect and fear among those lower within the organization. The guard broke. “She hasn’t been seen here since the night of the challenge as well. Orders are coming down from her though.”
“And the children?”
“They are safe inside. She hasn’t called for them.”
Cletus nodded a few times as he took in the little bits of information he was receiving. Her not returning here after the incident wouldn’t necessarily be cause for alarm, but she would not have left the children behind if she had returned to Talsiny. Having the guards refuse to open the gates for him was also strange.
Not wanting to draw the guard any further into this situation, he pulled away and started back down the road. There were other ways inside the manor. At one time he had built an alternate exit that he could use to smuggle the children out should a “hostile” takeover ever be attempted on the company. Of course, there were other secret exits to the manor, but he assumed they would be protected at this point, as they were common knowledge to those on the inside.
His first order of business was to check on the children. Then he’d find where Arane was.
“Open the gate,” Cletus barked, perhaps more caustic then he had intended. A week away from home had left him dirty, scruffy looking, and tired, but otherwise no worse off than the night of the challenge. The week had been spent gathering information on Ace’s new cohort and their movements. They had been quite busy.
Despite his appearance, the guards made no movement to open the gate.
“Open the gate,” he repeated, this time in his usual, calm but forceful manner.
After two of the guards exchanged a pair of uneasy looks, one of them finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re under strict orders not to allow you entrance.”
“On whose authority?” The question was pointless as Cletus already guessed upon the answer. However, he did not anticipate her reaction would near this extent. Before the guard could answer, he asked his next question. “Is she inside?”
Again the guard hesitated. He was instructed not to speak further about this with Cletus, but he still feared the man standing before him. Despite being ordered not to answer to Cletus, Cletus still wore the Nausikaa ring, and that carried a great deal of respect and fear among those lower within the organization. The guard broke. “She hasn’t been seen here since the night of the challenge as well. Orders are coming down from her though.”
“And the children?”
“They are safe inside. She hasn’t called for them.”
Cletus nodded a few times as he took in the little bits of information he was receiving. Her not returning here after the incident wouldn’t necessarily be cause for alarm, but she would not have left the children behind if she had returned to Talsiny. Having the guards refuse to open the gates for him was also strange.
Not wanting to draw the guard any further into this situation, he pulled away and started back down the road. There were other ways inside the manor. At one time he had built an alternate exit that he could use to smuggle the children out should a “hostile” takeover ever be attempted on the company. Of course, there were other secret exits to the manor, but he assumed they would be protected at this point, as they were common knowledge to those on the inside.
His first order of business was to check on the children. Then he’d find where Arane was.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
On that night, RhyDin was lost in darkness. A harsh howling wind blowing in from the East had pushed a thick cloud cover over the moon, blocking its reflective light from reaching the city. Despite the murkiness, the shadows seemed to move in key locations across the city as a number of banners were displayed in important landmarks. Each was very specific in its detail and, prior to this night, had only appeared in one location in the RhyDin greater area -- the Ganderfald Manor. The top half of each banner was a bright blood red that contrasted with the bottom half’s pitch black. In the middle the Nausikaa signet was laid in gold thread.
By morning, the banner hung from the South wall of the Arena in the spot designated for the Baron of Battlefield Park. It also flapped violently high above the Battlefield Park Baronial Manor secured to the watch tower. The Old Temple Baronial Manor was ignored as the Baroness thought the only danger that its’ current resident presented was replacing the Temple’s ancient tapestries with life size portraits of herself. However, the rest of the district was not overlooked. Shortly after midnight, a man reeking of alcohol and dressed in rags stumbled through the Old Temple district, dropping a package containing the banner near the Knights Templar Chapterhouse and the Dojo Darelir. Another Nausikaan soldier used the same ruse to drop a similar package at the nearby Dockside Baronial Manor and on the extreme opposite side of the city near the entrance of the Seaside Baronial Manor. The last two proved to be the greatest challenges as there were many prostitutes to dodge in the Dockside District and the personal security force of the Baron in the Seaside District.
In the witching hour, after the packages were scheduled to be delivered, Arane Nausikaa found herself staring at a building that typically caused her stomach to roll in disgust. Yet tonight, looking upon it only brought her joy. Finally, her dear friend and employee, Charlotte Jericho, would rest in peace. Not only would that goal finally be accomplished but she would have executed her first planned step in gaining control of the city. Two birds, one stone.
Dressed to match the moonless night in dark leather hide pants and a dark tight blouse, she rocked back on the heels of her boots waiting for the plan to unfold. The red rubies strewn through the hilt of the blade strapped to her back glimmered as if catching light that did not exist. Thin dark brown Henna markings of flames now graced the left side of her face as if to suggest that the same fire that had disfigured the flesh of her left arm had lept up and was now consuming her neck and cheek. Her stallion, Change, nudged her shoulder, disappointed that he had to watch this mission from a distance. She could not risk getting caught tonight, however. Later she would risk death for her cause but tonight she must remain behind.
The pounding of horse hooves announced the incoming trio before they could be seen. Their black horses and dark clothing allowed them to blend in with their surroundings. Her stallion tossed its mane, letting out an anxious neigh. Arane quieted him by placing a hand to his muzzle, silently willing the stallion to be still. The front two riders were tall, strong young men who held themselves rigidly even while riding while the third was a middle-aged wizard who was obviously struggling to control the spirited war horse he had been given to ride. When the trio arrived at their position, the front rider nodded respectfully to Arane. "It is done, Baroness."
"When do I get paid?" the wizard cut in sharply, his beady gaze on Arane.
The soldiers tensed visibly at the disrespect but remained silent as Arane held up a hand to them. Her gaze shifted to the front rider as she addressed the soldiers first. "Go ahead. I wish to see it through for myself."
"Of course, m'lady." The reply came even as the man spurred his horse onward with the heels of his boots. His co-conspirator followed at the same daredevil speed, disappearing into the night headed towards Battlefield Park.
"And my pay?" the wizard spoke again with increased annoyance after the men had vanished from view.
Arane motioned from him to dismount which he did with some show of his displeasure as soon as it became obvious that she would not address him until he was no longer looming above her on the horse. "You will be paid as soon as there is proof that you overcame the spell that protects this place." Her voice held none of the soft subtleness that it had in her life prior. Her tone rang clear with a regal air. The wizard allowed a bitter frown but leaned back against a thick oak to wait for the proof to become visible.
After several moments agitated orange flames began to lick the outside of one wing of the building. With plenty of fuel to expend and the whipping wind to help carry the sparks, the fire quickly caught hold of the fabled inn and frightened voices could be heard as the scene quickly began to spiral towards chaos. The rubies in the hilt of Arane's blade sparkled ominously as if lit by an inner fire. Change's anxiety only grew as the fire grew. The stallion pawed at the grass and nibbled at Arane's clothing, hoping desperately that his mistress would tire of her entertainment. A red firey glow suddenly ecapsulated the building and a great boom signified that the spell which allowed the building to repair itself magically within twenty-four hours of damage had been effectively destroyed.
A dry, self-satisfied laugh escaped the wizard's throat, clapping his hands together in triumph as he pushed himself from his lean. "Is that proof enough for you?"
In one fluidly swift motion and with undirected anger burning in her eyes, Arane whipped the blade out of the sheath that secured it to her back and plunged it towards the chest of the wizard. The wizard, shocked by the woman's audacity, brought his hands up to stop the blade with magic. However, disarming the building's magic had left him in enough of a weakened state that he was little match for the blade's own magic. His spell failed to even slow the blade and the cold hard steel plunged through him without the least bit of a struggle. After the weapon was viciously yanked free of the body, the man's heavy form dropped to the ground. The horses took little notice. Death they were used to, it was the fire that had them worried.
"Indeed it is," Arane said softly to the dead man as she used his cloak to clean off her blade and slide it back into the sheath on her back. Arane gently removed the reigns and the heavy saddle emblazoned with the Nausikaa signet from the now riderless horse, leaving both in their wooded locale. All it took was a loud yell and a heavy hand against the horse's rump to send it galloping off into the night in the direction of Battlefield Park. After a night full of fire and loud noises, the horse more than likely would head straight for the comfort of his stable.
Arane pulled herself back on top of her own stallion who danced anxiously at the prospect of putting distance between himself and the fire. Instead Arane spurred him forward, eyeing just the thing to put a cap on her night. With a disgruntled whinny, the stallion charged forward directly towards the fire. However, the building is not what had caught her attention but instead it was a beautiful redheaded young woman who had fled the fire but was watching from a safe distance as a group began to organize to begin to put it out.
She jumped at the sound of the pounding hooves of the war horse as Change and Arane bared down upon her. Arane yanked the reigns upward, drawing the horse to a sudden stop near the young woman. Change eyed the fire, stomping his feet in annoyance and prancing precariously close to the young redhead's bare feet. Green eyes stared up at Arane in shock as Arane yanked a package free of Change's saddle. "Do you know the owner of this establishment?"
"O-of course," the young woman stammered.
Arane tossed the brown paper wrapped package down at the young woman who caught it and held it tightly to her chest. "You make sure he gets that then."
Without waiting for a response to the affirmative, Arane let loose her hold on Change and allowed the horse's natural instinct to flee the fire to take over. Change needed no encouragement. Despite the dark surroundings, he plunged in the direction of his stable. Darkness swallowed up the pair as they escaped the damage, leaving the legendary Golden Ivy Tavern burning in their wake.
((Written with the approval of G'nort's player.))
By morning, the banner hung from the South wall of the Arena in the spot designated for the Baron of Battlefield Park. It also flapped violently high above the Battlefield Park Baronial Manor secured to the watch tower. The Old Temple Baronial Manor was ignored as the Baroness thought the only danger that its’ current resident presented was replacing the Temple’s ancient tapestries with life size portraits of herself. However, the rest of the district was not overlooked. Shortly after midnight, a man reeking of alcohol and dressed in rags stumbled through the Old Temple district, dropping a package containing the banner near the Knights Templar Chapterhouse and the Dojo Darelir. Another Nausikaan soldier used the same ruse to drop a similar package at the nearby Dockside Baronial Manor and on the extreme opposite side of the city near the entrance of the Seaside Baronial Manor. The last two proved to be the greatest challenges as there were many prostitutes to dodge in the Dockside District and the personal security force of the Baron in the Seaside District.
In the witching hour, after the packages were scheduled to be delivered, Arane Nausikaa found herself staring at a building that typically caused her stomach to roll in disgust. Yet tonight, looking upon it only brought her joy. Finally, her dear friend and employee, Charlotte Jericho, would rest in peace. Not only would that goal finally be accomplished but she would have executed her first planned step in gaining control of the city. Two birds, one stone.
Dressed to match the moonless night in dark leather hide pants and a dark tight blouse, she rocked back on the heels of her boots waiting for the plan to unfold. The red rubies strewn through the hilt of the blade strapped to her back glimmered as if catching light that did not exist. Thin dark brown Henna markings of flames now graced the left side of her face as if to suggest that the same fire that had disfigured the flesh of her left arm had lept up and was now consuming her neck and cheek. Her stallion, Change, nudged her shoulder, disappointed that he had to watch this mission from a distance. She could not risk getting caught tonight, however. Later she would risk death for her cause but tonight she must remain behind.
The pounding of horse hooves announced the incoming trio before they could be seen. Their black horses and dark clothing allowed them to blend in with their surroundings. Her stallion tossed its mane, letting out an anxious neigh. Arane quieted him by placing a hand to his muzzle, silently willing the stallion to be still. The front two riders were tall, strong young men who held themselves rigidly even while riding while the third was a middle-aged wizard who was obviously struggling to control the spirited war horse he had been given to ride. When the trio arrived at their position, the front rider nodded respectfully to Arane. "It is done, Baroness."
"When do I get paid?" the wizard cut in sharply, his beady gaze on Arane.
The soldiers tensed visibly at the disrespect but remained silent as Arane held up a hand to them. Her gaze shifted to the front rider as she addressed the soldiers first. "Go ahead. I wish to see it through for myself."
"Of course, m'lady." The reply came even as the man spurred his horse onward with the heels of his boots. His co-conspirator followed at the same daredevil speed, disappearing into the night headed towards Battlefield Park.
"And my pay?" the wizard spoke again with increased annoyance after the men had vanished from view.
Arane motioned from him to dismount which he did with some show of his displeasure as soon as it became obvious that she would not address him until he was no longer looming above her on the horse. "You will be paid as soon as there is proof that you overcame the spell that protects this place." Her voice held none of the soft subtleness that it had in her life prior. Her tone rang clear with a regal air. The wizard allowed a bitter frown but leaned back against a thick oak to wait for the proof to become visible.
After several moments agitated orange flames began to lick the outside of one wing of the building. With plenty of fuel to expend and the whipping wind to help carry the sparks, the fire quickly caught hold of the fabled inn and frightened voices could be heard as the scene quickly began to spiral towards chaos. The rubies in the hilt of Arane's blade sparkled ominously as if lit by an inner fire. Change's anxiety only grew as the fire grew. The stallion pawed at the grass and nibbled at Arane's clothing, hoping desperately that his mistress would tire of her entertainment. A red firey glow suddenly ecapsulated the building and a great boom signified that the spell which allowed the building to repair itself magically within twenty-four hours of damage had been effectively destroyed.
A dry, self-satisfied laugh escaped the wizard's throat, clapping his hands together in triumph as he pushed himself from his lean. "Is that proof enough for you?"
In one fluidly swift motion and with undirected anger burning in her eyes, Arane whipped the blade out of the sheath that secured it to her back and plunged it towards the chest of the wizard. The wizard, shocked by the woman's audacity, brought his hands up to stop the blade with magic. However, disarming the building's magic had left him in enough of a weakened state that he was little match for the blade's own magic. His spell failed to even slow the blade and the cold hard steel plunged through him without the least bit of a struggle. After the weapon was viciously yanked free of the body, the man's heavy form dropped to the ground. The horses took little notice. Death they were used to, it was the fire that had them worried.
"Indeed it is," Arane said softly to the dead man as she used his cloak to clean off her blade and slide it back into the sheath on her back. Arane gently removed the reigns and the heavy saddle emblazoned with the Nausikaa signet from the now riderless horse, leaving both in their wooded locale. All it took was a loud yell and a heavy hand against the horse's rump to send it galloping off into the night in the direction of Battlefield Park. After a night full of fire and loud noises, the horse more than likely would head straight for the comfort of his stable.
Arane pulled herself back on top of her own stallion who danced anxiously at the prospect of putting distance between himself and the fire. Instead Arane spurred him forward, eyeing just the thing to put a cap on her night. With a disgruntled whinny, the stallion charged forward directly towards the fire. However, the building is not what had caught her attention but instead it was a beautiful redheaded young woman who had fled the fire but was watching from a safe distance as a group began to organize to begin to put it out.
She jumped at the sound of the pounding hooves of the war horse as Change and Arane bared down upon her. Arane yanked the reigns upward, drawing the horse to a sudden stop near the young woman. Change eyed the fire, stomping his feet in annoyance and prancing precariously close to the young redhead's bare feet. Green eyes stared up at Arane in shock as Arane yanked a package free of Change's saddle. "Do you know the owner of this establishment?"
"O-of course," the young woman stammered.
Arane tossed the brown paper wrapped package down at the young woman who caught it and held it tightly to her chest. "You make sure he gets that then."
Without waiting for a response to the affirmative, Arane let loose her hold on Change and allowed the horse's natural instinct to flee the fire to take over. Change needed no encouragement. Despite the dark surroundings, he plunged in the direction of his stable. Darkness swallowed up the pair as they escaped the damage, leaving the legendary Golden Ivy Tavern burning in their wake.
((Written with the approval of G'nort's player.))
Grayson sat at the huge oak desk in his study, his gaze lost out at sea as he half-heartedly watched the large cargo ships sail in and out of Rhydin. On the desk in front of him were three items. The first was a large, elaborate banner that seemed to be popping up around the city. It had arrived on the grounds at Seahaven: Dunvegan Rhydin a fortnight ago, curiously being dropped inside the gates under the nose of the Baron's security force. Captain Shaffer, Captain of the Guard, had received an earful about that one. The second item was a letter of challenge from Cletus Ganderfald. Grayson glaced at the calander on the wall and saw that he still had a few days before he needed to respond to this letter. The final item was another letter. The letter would have been curious by itself, but combined with the first two items on his desk, Grayson was a little lost. He sighed, then began writing his own letter.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
As she cut a path through the new recruits training at the Battlefield Park Armory underneath the brutal summer sun, Arane Nausikaa could not help but allow the homesickness to creep into her heart. Even thinking of her children felt like a punch to the gut. Her husband had managed to get the upper hand, sneaking all three young children out of the Ganderfald Manor underneath the noses of their guards. The rubies imbedded in the hilt of the sword strapped to her back sparkled in the light and, immediately, the tender thoughts were pushed downstream by a violent flood of anger.
She felt the stares of her men against her back. They loved her, the passionate love of a soldier for his queen. There had always been a quality that caused men to follow her but that quality had grown tenfold with the sword. She did not question the magic of the sword. It was meant to be in the hands of a ruler and that’s exactly what it would aid her in becoming.
Arane nodded to the pair of soldiers guarding the small nondescript building in the center of the facility which served as her quarters. Closing the door behind her to escape the heat, she paused momentarily to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.
Her one-room sanctuary was not empty as she hoped. Her top general, Riend Wudon, and the head of her personal guard, Olin Brak, snapped out of their chairs as she walked through the doorway but her blue eyes did not linger on them. Instead they caught on a young boy standing in the corner. Disheveled sandy blonde curls were shoved beneath a cap and his grubby hands clutched a letter tightly.
“Who is this?” Arane demanded, directing the question to Olin.
Olin allowed a frown as he, disapprovingly, glanced back at the child. “The page has a letter for you, Baroness. He insists he will not give it to anyone but you.”
A dedicated child. Most grown men would no longer venture into Battlefield Park. While the remote locale had always been a haven for thieves and bandits, it had now become even more dangerous. The Nausikaa troops had made a clear grab for power in the area. Tributes were now demanded of many travelers who attempted to pass through the district and small raids had begun to infiltrate New Haven.
An amused smile formed on Arane’s thin sunburnt lips as her gaze turned back on the boy. “You have angered the head of the Baroness’s personal guard, child. What is your name?”
What seemed a simple question left the child tongue-tied. Arane waited patiently for him to find his voice. “Timothy, ma’am.”
Olin cleared his throat at the disrespect. “That would be m’lady or Baroness, child.”
“Baroness,” Timothy quickly corrected himself as his gaze briefly dashed towards Olin. The towering man glared at the boy with fierce intensity.
“Can I have my letter now, Timothy?” she asked, holding out a hand for the letter. Arane’s gentleness in direct comparison to Olin’s rough nature was a comfort the boy leapt for. His brown eyes studied her regal features as his hand shakily reached out to hand her the letter.
“Thank you, Timothy,” she said as she accepted the letter with a benevolent smile. “Olin will escort you to the door and ensure that you are rewarded handsomely for the seriousness with which you hold for your duties.” Olin roughly guided the boy, who was sporting a proud grin at the praise, to the door as Arane broke the letter’s seal and read the message within.
Baroness,
I have weighed your offer and have come to a decision. I will not become involved in what appears to be a family affair. I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to prevent Cletus from taking Seahaven, but I feel it would be unwise to choose sides at this time. That being the case, I also give you my word that I will not stand in your way should you decide to take action against your enemies, whomever they may be.
I appreciate your offer to stand as my second, but I must decline.
Regards,
Grayson MacLeod
Baron of Sea Haven
“Fool,” she spoke angrily beneath her breath, catching the attention of her silent general and Olin who had quickly rid himself of the child. She balled the letter in her hand, shaking her head. “He is no match for Cletus.”
“The Baron of Sea Haven denied your request?” Olin asked with disbelief in his tone.
“He did indeed,” Arane said thoughtfully as she dropped the crumpled letter carelessly to the floor. “Does he truly believe that he is in the same league as Cletus? The only chance he had was the distraction of me being at his side.”
Riend finally broke his silence. “Do you have an alternative plan, m’lady? We have little chance of retrieving the children if Lord Ganderfald is able to get them into the Sea Haven manor. The fortification is superb and the possibility of a hostile takeover remote.”
Arane’s dark blue gaze fell to the floor and a hand reached up to rub out the tension in the back of her neck. “He has to come out of hiding for this match. He would be expecting an attack before the match and will make preparations but he would not be expecting an attack afterwards.”
“Yes,” Riend said thoughtfully, nodding slowly several times. “We will capture him and bring him back here. We have people that I trust to get the location of the children out of him.”
Arane’s head quickly lifted, her gaze immediately focusing in on the general. “No. Absolutely not. This I will do myself.”
Olin cut a glance towards Riend who looked just as troubled by the prospect. Arane Nausikaa had never been a healthy woman. If she watched her diet and rested often, she could hide it from all but those closest to her. However, the blade and its anger were wearing on her. Olin feared she simply did not have the strength to go head-to-head with Cletus Ganderfald. One glance in Riend’s direction had made it clear that the General shared his fear. “Baroness, I do not believe that is wise,” Olin spoke carefully.
Her lips pursed into a thin frown as she narrowed her cold gaze on the men. “I understand that you are concerned with my security. Therefore, I will concede that I will not be involved in his capture but I will be the one to get the information out of him. Is that understood?”
This compromise was the best Olin could have hoped for. He and Riend nodded respectfully. “Yes, Baroness.”
“Have you found Edwin and the men that are attempting to defect to Cletus?”
“No, m’lady. However, we do not believe they have found Lord Ganderfald yet,” the General replied.
“He is probably wary of them. He might believe it is some sort of ruse,” Olin chimed in.
Arane nodded in agreement but it took her a moment to process their statements. The pounding of her head was nearly too much to stand. The anger was sapping her strength and sleep was all she could concentrate on at the moment. “Let me rest. Inform me if there are any new developments.”
“Yes, Baroness.” The pair both offered deep respectful nods before excusing themselves from the room. Even Olin did not have any parting lectures on resting as he could see that there was nothing else on her mind.
After pulling the sheathed sword off over her head and kicking off her boots, she dropped her light frame onto a rough tiny cot. As the hostile sun sank beneath the tree line, finally giving the people of RhyDin a break from the day’s heat, consciousness left her and her anger sank into the darkness.
She felt the stares of her men against her back. They loved her, the passionate love of a soldier for his queen. There had always been a quality that caused men to follow her but that quality had grown tenfold with the sword. She did not question the magic of the sword. It was meant to be in the hands of a ruler and that’s exactly what it would aid her in becoming.
Arane nodded to the pair of soldiers guarding the small nondescript building in the center of the facility which served as her quarters. Closing the door behind her to escape the heat, she paused momentarily to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.
Her one-room sanctuary was not empty as she hoped. Her top general, Riend Wudon, and the head of her personal guard, Olin Brak, snapped out of their chairs as she walked through the doorway but her blue eyes did not linger on them. Instead they caught on a young boy standing in the corner. Disheveled sandy blonde curls were shoved beneath a cap and his grubby hands clutched a letter tightly.
“Who is this?” Arane demanded, directing the question to Olin.
Olin allowed a frown as he, disapprovingly, glanced back at the child. “The page has a letter for you, Baroness. He insists he will not give it to anyone but you.”
A dedicated child. Most grown men would no longer venture into Battlefield Park. While the remote locale had always been a haven for thieves and bandits, it had now become even more dangerous. The Nausikaa troops had made a clear grab for power in the area. Tributes were now demanded of many travelers who attempted to pass through the district and small raids had begun to infiltrate New Haven.
An amused smile formed on Arane’s thin sunburnt lips as her gaze turned back on the boy. “You have angered the head of the Baroness’s personal guard, child. What is your name?”
What seemed a simple question left the child tongue-tied. Arane waited patiently for him to find his voice. “Timothy, ma’am.”
Olin cleared his throat at the disrespect. “That would be m’lady or Baroness, child.”
“Baroness,” Timothy quickly corrected himself as his gaze briefly dashed towards Olin. The towering man glared at the boy with fierce intensity.
“Can I have my letter now, Timothy?” she asked, holding out a hand for the letter. Arane’s gentleness in direct comparison to Olin’s rough nature was a comfort the boy leapt for. His brown eyes studied her regal features as his hand shakily reached out to hand her the letter.
“Thank you, Timothy,” she said as she accepted the letter with a benevolent smile. “Olin will escort you to the door and ensure that you are rewarded handsomely for the seriousness with which you hold for your duties.” Olin roughly guided the boy, who was sporting a proud grin at the praise, to the door as Arane broke the letter’s seal and read the message within.
Baroness,
I have weighed your offer and have come to a decision. I will not become involved in what appears to be a family affair. I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to prevent Cletus from taking Seahaven, but I feel it would be unwise to choose sides at this time. That being the case, I also give you my word that I will not stand in your way should you decide to take action against your enemies, whomever they may be.
I appreciate your offer to stand as my second, but I must decline.
Regards,
Grayson MacLeod
Baron of Sea Haven
“Fool,” she spoke angrily beneath her breath, catching the attention of her silent general and Olin who had quickly rid himself of the child. She balled the letter in her hand, shaking her head. “He is no match for Cletus.”
“The Baron of Sea Haven denied your request?” Olin asked with disbelief in his tone.
“He did indeed,” Arane said thoughtfully as she dropped the crumpled letter carelessly to the floor. “Does he truly believe that he is in the same league as Cletus? The only chance he had was the distraction of me being at his side.”
Riend finally broke his silence. “Do you have an alternative plan, m’lady? We have little chance of retrieving the children if Lord Ganderfald is able to get them into the Sea Haven manor. The fortification is superb and the possibility of a hostile takeover remote.”
Arane’s dark blue gaze fell to the floor and a hand reached up to rub out the tension in the back of her neck. “He has to come out of hiding for this match. He would be expecting an attack before the match and will make preparations but he would not be expecting an attack afterwards.”
“Yes,” Riend said thoughtfully, nodding slowly several times. “We will capture him and bring him back here. We have people that I trust to get the location of the children out of him.”
Arane’s head quickly lifted, her gaze immediately focusing in on the general. “No. Absolutely not. This I will do myself.”
Olin cut a glance towards Riend who looked just as troubled by the prospect. Arane Nausikaa had never been a healthy woman. If she watched her diet and rested often, she could hide it from all but those closest to her. However, the blade and its anger were wearing on her. Olin feared she simply did not have the strength to go head-to-head with Cletus Ganderfald. One glance in Riend’s direction had made it clear that the General shared his fear. “Baroness, I do not believe that is wise,” Olin spoke carefully.
Her lips pursed into a thin frown as she narrowed her cold gaze on the men. “I understand that you are concerned with my security. Therefore, I will concede that I will not be involved in his capture but I will be the one to get the information out of him. Is that understood?”
This compromise was the best Olin could have hoped for. He and Riend nodded respectfully. “Yes, Baroness.”
“Have you found Edwin and the men that are attempting to defect to Cletus?”
“No, m’lady. However, we do not believe they have found Lord Ganderfald yet,” the General replied.
“He is probably wary of them. He might believe it is some sort of ruse,” Olin chimed in.
Arane nodded in agreement but it took her a moment to process their statements. The pounding of her head was nearly too much to stand. The anger was sapping her strength and sleep was all she could concentrate on at the moment. “Let me rest. Inform me if there are any new developments.”
“Yes, Baroness.” The pair both offered deep respectful nods before excusing themselves from the room. Even Olin did not have any parting lectures on resting as he could see that there was nothing else on her mind.
After pulling the sheathed sword off over her head and kicking off her boots, she dropped her light frame onto a rough tiny cot. As the hostile sun sank beneath the tree line, finally giving the people of RhyDin a break from the day’s heat, consciousness left her and her anger sank into the darkness.
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Cletus Ganderfald
- Adventurer
- Posts: 58
- Joined: Sat Apr 24, 2004 5:38 pm
Cletus pushed the old wooden door open and stepped into the large open space of one of the many decrepit warehouses in the heart of Badside. This particular warehouse was purchased long ago by Cletus, under the disguise of a fairly common Rhydin name, as a temporary place to house Nausikaa operatives in Badside. Luckily for Cletus, shortly after he made the purchase, Shakira's short uprising in Badside occurred and as Nausikaa looked to secure their other assets in the area, the purchase of this particular warehouse went unreported. Cletus had since used it as a training and staging location for some of his more secretive missions.
The warehouse was a fair size, but the majority was still unused. The wood was brittle and unstable in most places which made entrance from any floor other than the first virtually impossible without causing quite a bit of noise. The few, scattered side rooms were used as living quarters while the main thrust of open area was primarily used as a staging area for whatever job was being operated out of this location.
As Cletus stepped through, there were five men already waiting for him. His arrival was no surprise to them. These five, along with five others, were Nausikaa operatives that Cletus personally picked for advanced training with him. They were part of an elite guard Cletus was tasked early on to create for some of the more delicate assignments. The one condition Cletus insisted was placed on this was that their identity and location be divulged to nobody, including Arane and Edwin. Cletus felt any breech could compromise both the soldiers’ loyalty and security.
It was partly because of this, and their many hours of training together, that Cletus knew these were the only Nausikaa employees he could trust, and they had already proven their worth. Three of them were instrumental in evacuating the children from the manor, and although Cletus never trusted them to the extent of telling them where the children were hidden now, he knew that they trusted him enough not to ask or find out.
Before Cletus could ask, his initial question was answered. "Supply run."
Cletus nodded, with the two missing soldiers now accounted for, he sat down. Cletus had always preferred to keep three or four floating throughout the organization to keep an eye on things that may not be reported back to the top of the chain. It was a crude internal affairs watch that Cletus never imagined would be used to the extent it was now. The three still in the field were now his only ears inside the walls he could no longer enter. One was stationed in Talsiny, one within the manor, and the other had luckily been recruited to Battlefield Park.
He was able to ask his second question. "Anything new?"
"The raids appear to be increasing, and we've noticed some movement inside New Haven."
"And Sea Haven?"
"It's difficult to get close, but we haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary."
"I'm fairly certain it has been compromised already. Pull the other two out the night of the challenge. Make it look like they were killed while out on a raid or something. Leave Belkin in Talsiny. Do I need to go over the rest of the plan again?"
They each shook their head.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, sir. There is rumor of a group that has defected and is attempting to make contact with you. We believe they may be led by one or two high ranking Nausikaa, but we have yet to locate them or confirm this."
"Leave me a signal when you know more. They could prove useful; legitimate or not."
The soldiers nodded and Cletus moved back out onto the moonlit streets of Badside.
The warehouse was a fair size, but the majority was still unused. The wood was brittle and unstable in most places which made entrance from any floor other than the first virtually impossible without causing quite a bit of noise. The few, scattered side rooms were used as living quarters while the main thrust of open area was primarily used as a staging area for whatever job was being operated out of this location.
As Cletus stepped through, there were five men already waiting for him. His arrival was no surprise to them. These five, along with five others, were Nausikaa operatives that Cletus personally picked for advanced training with him. They were part of an elite guard Cletus was tasked early on to create for some of the more delicate assignments. The one condition Cletus insisted was placed on this was that their identity and location be divulged to nobody, including Arane and Edwin. Cletus felt any breech could compromise both the soldiers’ loyalty and security.
It was partly because of this, and their many hours of training together, that Cletus knew these were the only Nausikaa employees he could trust, and they had already proven their worth. Three of them were instrumental in evacuating the children from the manor, and although Cletus never trusted them to the extent of telling them where the children were hidden now, he knew that they trusted him enough not to ask or find out.
Before Cletus could ask, his initial question was answered. "Supply run."
Cletus nodded, with the two missing soldiers now accounted for, he sat down. Cletus had always preferred to keep three or four floating throughout the organization to keep an eye on things that may not be reported back to the top of the chain. It was a crude internal affairs watch that Cletus never imagined would be used to the extent it was now. The three still in the field were now his only ears inside the walls he could no longer enter. One was stationed in Talsiny, one within the manor, and the other had luckily been recruited to Battlefield Park.
He was able to ask his second question. "Anything new?"
"The raids appear to be increasing, and we've noticed some movement inside New Haven."
"And Sea Haven?"
"It's difficult to get close, but we haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary."
"I'm fairly certain it has been compromised already. Pull the other two out the night of the challenge. Make it look like they were killed while out on a raid or something. Leave Belkin in Talsiny. Do I need to go over the rest of the plan again?"
They each shook their head.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, sir. There is rumor of a group that has defected and is attempting to make contact with you. We believe they may be led by one or two high ranking Nausikaa, but we have yet to locate them or confirm this."
"Leave me a signal when you know more. They could prove useful; legitimate or not."
The soldiers nodded and Cletus moved back out onto the moonlit streets of Badside.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
It simply was not Cletus Ganderfald’s night.
The evening had started off with him allowing Grayson an early lead that Cletus just could not fight back from. Unfortunately for him, the loss was only the start to the night’s problems. He and his brother, Magnus, had left the Arena together intent on following up on a lead that suggested that Edwin Nausikaa and his men were camped just East of the city.
They did not get far after exiting the Red Dragon Inn before noting that they were being followed. “Sloppy,” Cletus muttered under his breath, noting from Magnus’s tense jaw that he had already noticed that they had shadows. Magnus acknowledged Cletus’s comment with a grunt and a nod of his head. Without a word, they changed their direction, not wanting to lead Nausikaa troops to the defectors.
Cletus’s mind rapidly went through his options. He had expected this move from her and had prepared himself for it. She would want him herself, no outsiders. The opportunity to speak with her, to try to break through whatever hold that blade had on her, was one he could not pass up.
Therefore, he spoke a casual farewell to Magnus. His younger brother studied Cletus’s face for a moment but after spotting the decision in Cletus’s set features, they parted ways. Just as Cletus expected, the group continued to follow him while Magnus’s trip back to his cabin was uninterrupted.
Not long after Magnus went out of shouting distance, the small brigade fell upon him. He had decided to put up a bit of a fight and his hand was falling to the hilt of his blade as the gray uniformed men began to appear from the shadows. However, his hand never made it there. With surprise, he felt a sting to his right bicep. His gaze quickly dropped there to find an arrow jutting out from the torn flesh. His immediate haze, caused by the poison-laced arrow, suggested that his kidnappers’ superiors did not trust the soldiers’ ability to transport Cletus back to the Battlefield Armory without incident unless he was heavily drugged.
That would be the last clear thought Cletus would have for many hours.
The evening had started off with him allowing Grayson an early lead that Cletus just could not fight back from. Unfortunately for him, the loss was only the start to the night’s problems. He and his brother, Magnus, had left the Arena together intent on following up on a lead that suggested that Edwin Nausikaa and his men were camped just East of the city.
They did not get far after exiting the Red Dragon Inn before noting that they were being followed. “Sloppy,” Cletus muttered under his breath, noting from Magnus’s tense jaw that he had already noticed that they had shadows. Magnus acknowledged Cletus’s comment with a grunt and a nod of his head. Without a word, they changed their direction, not wanting to lead Nausikaa troops to the defectors.
Cletus’s mind rapidly went through his options. He had expected this move from her and had prepared himself for it. She would want him herself, no outsiders. The opportunity to speak with her, to try to break through whatever hold that blade had on her, was one he could not pass up.
Therefore, he spoke a casual farewell to Magnus. His younger brother studied Cletus’s face for a moment but after spotting the decision in Cletus’s set features, they parted ways. Just as Cletus expected, the group continued to follow him while Magnus’s trip back to his cabin was uninterrupted.
Not long after Magnus went out of shouting distance, the small brigade fell upon him. He had decided to put up a bit of a fight and his hand was falling to the hilt of his blade as the gray uniformed men began to appear from the shadows. However, his hand never made it there. With surprise, he felt a sting to his right bicep. His gaze quickly dropped there to find an arrow jutting out from the torn flesh. His immediate haze, caused by the poison-laced arrow, suggested that his kidnappers’ superiors did not trust the soldiers’ ability to transport Cletus back to the Battlefield Armory without incident unless he was heavily drugged.
That would be the last clear thought Cletus would have for many hours.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Several hours later, he found himself tightly strapped to a hard wooden chair deep in the Battlefield Park Armory, fighting the drug which was now slowing his mind. There was no memory of the trip from Dragon’s Gate to Battlefield Park and he only vaguely remembered being dragged into a small stone building within the heavily fortified Armory. Unless his mind was playing tricks on him, one of the two guards stationed outside his room had given him a wink when he had been dragged in. The guard’s face jogged his memory. Cletus struggled to place him.
The answer came after a moment. Branwell was his name. Or at least it was his last name. Cletus could not be sure about his first. He was a personal guard to Edwin and, therefore, ended up at the Ganderfald Manor often. Cletus vaguely remembered how taken he had been with Cletus and Arane’s three year old daughter, Lauren. Once while waiting for Edwin, Branwell had even sat through a tea party that Lauren had hosted which had been attended by a number of dolls and Lauren’s pet kitten, Ralphie. Cletus’s drugged mind did not leap at the oddity of Branwell being here at Battlefield Park, instead of with Edwin, but latched onto the thought of his youngest child.
His entire body felt sluggish; his entire body that is expect for a sharp pain coming from the back of his head where one of his kidnappers had forcefully placed the blunt end of his sword. Suddenly the soft humming of a familiar Talsinian lullaby broke through his fog of confusion. If it had not been for the rough rope which was holding his arms behind him cutting through the flesh of his wrists, he would have easily been able to let his lethargic mind imagine that he was back in the Ganderfald Manor, listening to his wife sing one of their children to sleep after a nightmare.
Cletus jerked to as Arane dragged a finger lightly down his cheek bone. His brown eyes found her cold blue gaze and recognition that his window of opportunity had just opened sent him into a frantic attempt at sobering himself.
Arane smiled almost intimately as she brushed back a lock of his dark hair from his face. He was painfully handsome. Even now she could not deny that. Her pull to the man enraged her further, allowing the blade to fuel the fire of her hate.
“You thought I would let you miss one of our traditional post-challenge dates?” she asked, tilting her head at him. Without warning, she brought the back of her gloved hand across Cletus’s cheek. He grunted through the pain but refused to give her any further satisfaction. He concentrated on ensuring all his teeth were still in place with his tongue to ignore the pain.
Cletus did not trust himself to speak just yet. He needed some time to form a plan. He simply watched each move she took. “It’s just you and I. Nobody to bust in on us.” Her voice was laced with arsenic.
Only then did he notice the iron cudgel that was clutched tightly in her hand. After nearly seven years of marriage, she knew every inch of his body. She had witnessed every blow he took in every challenge match he had been in. She had tended to every wound he had. Duelists did not reach Cletus’s age without their bodies beginning to give in to some of the damage those old wounds had caused. Arane knew the location of each weak point on his body
Slowly she began to take advantage of each.
The drug numbed the pain that followed but made it difficult to keep his mind in the moment. He floated in and out of memories – some good, some bad – as his mind tried desperately to escape the nightmarish night he had fallen into.
With his lucidity coming and going, he could not tell how long the pain last but suddenly it stopped. He fought through the drug, the pain, and the exhaustion to surface, hoping that now he might have a chance.
As he forced his heavy eyelids open, he found her staring down at him. “I want my children,” she said softly when she was assured he was fully conscious. His gaze lingered on her face.
Sweat glistened on her forehead in the torch light and strands of blonde hair had matted themselves to her face. Her features were drawn tightly and exhaustion weighed heavily. He had seen her ill more times in their marriage than he cared to think about. He knew the blade’s anger was quickly pushing her into a vulnerable state.
“You should rest,” he said softly. His voice sounded detached, a million miles away. He continued to fight through, knowing this was his chance.
Arane narrowed her hard blue eyes at him. “I want my children,” she repeated.
“Come with me. We will go see them together.”
“You are not going anywhere. I will be a widow by the end of the night,” Arane stated, her anger growing once more. “The only question left to be answered is how much pain you will be in when you die.”
The comment caused him to pause. He could feel the hollow ring to those words. Deep down, he could tell that even now she knew she would be unable to kill him. He waited until her angry blue eyes found him once more before delivering his plea. “No matter what you do tonight, I will still love you.”
Those ten words came as a blow, having the exact desire intended. She took a sudden step back from him, her gaze widening in something undefinable but certainly not anger. The wave of emotion that overcame her was unstoppable. The battle between the sword-fueled anger and her love for the man began. The only sound that broke the silence was the fire that whipped in the torches that surrounded them.
The rubies in the hilt of the blade strapped to Arane’s back were ablaze in angry color. Her face softened slowly as the anger of the blade seemed to ever so slowly give in to the fight. Cletus remained silent, his hazy mind so concentrated on her features that even he failed to notice the room’s newest occupants.
A crushing blow delivered from the shadows to the nape of Arane’s neck broke the silence. The battle raging within came to a sudden bitter end as her body dropped unconscious to the hard stone. His stomach sank as understanding fell on him. He wanted to scream at the loss but his voice failed him. Cletus felt someone slice through the ropes holding his arms behind him and a man dressed as one of his captives did the same for his feet. Strong hands slid under his arms and he was brought to his feet and held there in place. He noted that while in a great deal of pain, each of his joints seemed to be functioning. Even in the middle of her anger, she was unable to do lasting damage to him.
The guard from outside – Branwell – was there along with Edwin Nausikaa and a handful of his closest operatives all dressed as Nausikaan soldiers.“She was about to break,” Cletus said sharply to Edwin finally finding his voice.
Edwin’s stern gaze jumped up from Arane’s crumpled form to Cletus, horror registering in his eyes as realization dawned. “We have got to go,” Branwell broke in.
“I am staying,” Cletus said firmly. “She will not hurt me.”
Branwell looked momentarily panicked at the thought. “I did not buy us much time. She left strict orders that if anything should happen to her, you were to be immediately killed.”
“She will be out at least an hour or two. Olin will have checked in by that time,” Edwin replied. “We will be lucky enough to get out of here alive. We cannot risk taking her as well.”
As Edwin’s men slipped the extra Nausikaan uniform jacket they had procured over his broad shoulders, Cletus attempted to force his mind to find other options. They had to be there. This had been his chance to end this before it got much worse. Exhaustion, pain, and the drug wore on him. It was all he could do to fight off the looming threat of falling unconscious. Without further argument but with a final glance back at his fallen wife, he was helped out of the room and into the night.
The answer came after a moment. Branwell was his name. Or at least it was his last name. Cletus could not be sure about his first. He was a personal guard to Edwin and, therefore, ended up at the Ganderfald Manor often. Cletus vaguely remembered how taken he had been with Cletus and Arane’s three year old daughter, Lauren. Once while waiting for Edwin, Branwell had even sat through a tea party that Lauren had hosted which had been attended by a number of dolls and Lauren’s pet kitten, Ralphie. Cletus’s drugged mind did not leap at the oddity of Branwell being here at Battlefield Park, instead of with Edwin, but latched onto the thought of his youngest child.
His entire body felt sluggish; his entire body that is expect for a sharp pain coming from the back of his head where one of his kidnappers had forcefully placed the blunt end of his sword. Suddenly the soft humming of a familiar Talsinian lullaby broke through his fog of confusion. If it had not been for the rough rope which was holding his arms behind him cutting through the flesh of his wrists, he would have easily been able to let his lethargic mind imagine that he was back in the Ganderfald Manor, listening to his wife sing one of their children to sleep after a nightmare.
Cletus jerked to as Arane dragged a finger lightly down his cheek bone. His brown eyes found her cold blue gaze and recognition that his window of opportunity had just opened sent him into a frantic attempt at sobering himself.
Arane smiled almost intimately as she brushed back a lock of his dark hair from his face. He was painfully handsome. Even now she could not deny that. Her pull to the man enraged her further, allowing the blade to fuel the fire of her hate.
“You thought I would let you miss one of our traditional post-challenge dates?” she asked, tilting her head at him. Without warning, she brought the back of her gloved hand across Cletus’s cheek. He grunted through the pain but refused to give her any further satisfaction. He concentrated on ensuring all his teeth were still in place with his tongue to ignore the pain.
Cletus did not trust himself to speak just yet. He needed some time to form a plan. He simply watched each move she took. “It’s just you and I. Nobody to bust in on us.” Her voice was laced with arsenic.
Only then did he notice the iron cudgel that was clutched tightly in her hand. After nearly seven years of marriage, she knew every inch of his body. She had witnessed every blow he took in every challenge match he had been in. She had tended to every wound he had. Duelists did not reach Cletus’s age without their bodies beginning to give in to some of the damage those old wounds had caused. Arane knew the location of each weak point on his body
Slowly she began to take advantage of each.
The drug numbed the pain that followed but made it difficult to keep his mind in the moment. He floated in and out of memories – some good, some bad – as his mind tried desperately to escape the nightmarish night he had fallen into.
With his lucidity coming and going, he could not tell how long the pain last but suddenly it stopped. He fought through the drug, the pain, and the exhaustion to surface, hoping that now he might have a chance.
As he forced his heavy eyelids open, he found her staring down at him. “I want my children,” she said softly when she was assured he was fully conscious. His gaze lingered on her face.
Sweat glistened on her forehead in the torch light and strands of blonde hair had matted themselves to her face. Her features were drawn tightly and exhaustion weighed heavily. He had seen her ill more times in their marriage than he cared to think about. He knew the blade’s anger was quickly pushing her into a vulnerable state.
“You should rest,” he said softly. His voice sounded detached, a million miles away. He continued to fight through, knowing this was his chance.
Arane narrowed her hard blue eyes at him. “I want my children,” she repeated.
“Come with me. We will go see them together.”
“You are not going anywhere. I will be a widow by the end of the night,” Arane stated, her anger growing once more. “The only question left to be answered is how much pain you will be in when you die.”
The comment caused him to pause. He could feel the hollow ring to those words. Deep down, he could tell that even now she knew she would be unable to kill him. He waited until her angry blue eyes found him once more before delivering his plea. “No matter what you do tonight, I will still love you.”
Those ten words came as a blow, having the exact desire intended. She took a sudden step back from him, her gaze widening in something undefinable but certainly not anger. The wave of emotion that overcame her was unstoppable. The battle between the sword-fueled anger and her love for the man began. The only sound that broke the silence was the fire that whipped in the torches that surrounded them.
The rubies in the hilt of the blade strapped to Arane’s back were ablaze in angry color. Her face softened slowly as the anger of the blade seemed to ever so slowly give in to the fight. Cletus remained silent, his hazy mind so concentrated on her features that even he failed to notice the room’s newest occupants.
A crushing blow delivered from the shadows to the nape of Arane’s neck broke the silence. The battle raging within came to a sudden bitter end as her body dropped unconscious to the hard stone. His stomach sank as understanding fell on him. He wanted to scream at the loss but his voice failed him. Cletus felt someone slice through the ropes holding his arms behind him and a man dressed as one of his captives did the same for his feet. Strong hands slid under his arms and he was brought to his feet and held there in place. He noted that while in a great deal of pain, each of his joints seemed to be functioning. Even in the middle of her anger, she was unable to do lasting damage to him.
The guard from outside – Branwell – was there along with Edwin Nausikaa and a handful of his closest operatives all dressed as Nausikaan soldiers.“She was about to break,” Cletus said sharply to Edwin finally finding his voice.
Edwin’s stern gaze jumped up from Arane’s crumpled form to Cletus, horror registering in his eyes as realization dawned. “We have got to go,” Branwell broke in.
“I am staying,” Cletus said firmly. “She will not hurt me.”
Branwell looked momentarily panicked at the thought. “I did not buy us much time. She left strict orders that if anything should happen to her, you were to be immediately killed.”
“She will be out at least an hour or two. Olin will have checked in by that time,” Edwin replied. “We will be lucky enough to get out of here alive. We cannot risk taking her as well.”
As Edwin’s men slipped the extra Nausikaan uniform jacket they had procured over his broad shoulders, Cletus attempted to force his mind to find other options. They had to be there. This had been his chance to end this before it got much worse. Exhaustion, pain, and the drug wore on him. It was all he could do to fight off the looming threat of falling unconscious. Without further argument but with a final glance back at his fallen wife, he was helped out of the room and into the night.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
A sharp rapping on the door tore her from a deep sleep. She immediately sat up in bed and her blue eyes snapped open, struggling through momentary confusion as to her whereabouts. The events of the previous night slowly flooded back in displacing the muddle as her mind blinked awake.
Her gaze fell to the empty place in bed beside her. He was gone. There was not even an ounce of evidence that last night had not been a figment of her imagination. Although, it was probably best not to acknowledge the night had happened.
She had run into Cletus in the Arena. Perhaps “run into” was not the correct phrase. She would have refused to admit to him but she had to admit to herself that she had indeed sought him out. The blade’s anger had been no match for the warmth, comfort, and familiarity that Cletus offered.
In their shared exhaustion, husband and wife had given into the temptation to the solace that being together provided. They had rented a room upstairs from the Arena in the Red Dragon Inn and spent the night together while keeping their weakness a secret from both factions.
Another sharp rap on the door yanked her from the pleasant memory. “Who is it?” she called as she leaned over the bed to rummage for her shirt amongst the tangled bed covers.
“Are you well, Baroness?” the concerned, but slightly agitated, voice of Olin Brak greeted her.
That Olin had found her was of no surprise. The head of her personal guard was quite good at his job and his job was to keep tabs on her. From the tone of his voice she was at least reassured that he had not uncovered that she had shared a bed the night before with her husband.
“Give me a moment,” she said, yanking on her pants and scanning the room a final time to ensure that Cletus had left nothing behind.
Her blue eyes paused briefly as she caught sight of the sparkling stones inlaid in the hilt of her blade which still rested in the worn chair where she had left it. A part of her had hoped he would steal it, ridding her of the burden. He had made it clear, however, that this sword was something she had to defeat for herself. The doubt lingered whether she would be strong enough to disconnect herself with it. The harder she fought the blade’s pull, the deeper her exhaustion became and the quicker her health faded.
She slid to her bare feet and padded over to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open before immediately moving towards the sitting area where her dusty hide boots had been dumped. Wordlessly, Olin stepped inside and closed the door behind him, flipping the lock back down. He leaned his back against the door, arms folding in front of his chest as he watched Arane flop down onto a chair and pull on her boots.
“It was unwise of me to leave the armory without a proper guard. I know this. It was also unwise of me to not send word as to where I was spending the night,” Arane said as she rose to her feet, reaching for her blade. “I needed a good night’s sleep without men looming outside my door.”
“I understand, Baroness.” Olin stood from his lean, his features remaining grim. “Perhaps in the future we can work out an option that is safer.”
His statement ended any hope that she might be able to repeat the night with Cletus. She offered a solemn nod.
"The Red Orc Brewery is burning," Olin stated in what passed for him as a conversational tone.
"I wonder if we will be blamed for that considering our last dapple in the art of arson." She slid the strap of the sheath over her head so that the sheathed blade rested against her back. “I am ready to return now.”
“I have a small contingent of men and an extra horse waiting outside but I wanted to show you this first,” Olin said, sliding a note from her pocket to hand it to Arane.
She flashed him a puzzled look while reaching out to take it. Her gaze dropped to the paper, flipping it open and reading the brief statement. Magnus was challenging. Drachen had confirmed her fears several nights ago. Magnus was going to kill her for what she had done to Cletus, for being Cletus’ Achilles heel, for the influence she had over Cletus and Magnus’s heir – Zen. The challenge removed any lingering doubt. Her death sentence had been moved up.
The sword raged on her fear, immediately spinning it into anger. She was not going down without a fight. Magnus would not gain control of her son – even if she must make a deal with the devil to ensure that. Her hardened gaze moved back up to Olin’s grim features.
“Find me Drachen.”
Her gaze fell to the empty place in bed beside her. He was gone. There was not even an ounce of evidence that last night had not been a figment of her imagination. Although, it was probably best not to acknowledge the night had happened.
She had run into Cletus in the Arena. Perhaps “run into” was not the correct phrase. She would have refused to admit to him but she had to admit to herself that she had indeed sought him out. The blade’s anger had been no match for the warmth, comfort, and familiarity that Cletus offered.
In their shared exhaustion, husband and wife had given into the temptation to the solace that being together provided. They had rented a room upstairs from the Arena in the Red Dragon Inn and spent the night together while keeping their weakness a secret from both factions.
Another sharp rap on the door yanked her from the pleasant memory. “Who is it?” she called as she leaned over the bed to rummage for her shirt amongst the tangled bed covers.
“Are you well, Baroness?” the concerned, but slightly agitated, voice of Olin Brak greeted her.
That Olin had found her was of no surprise. The head of her personal guard was quite good at his job and his job was to keep tabs on her. From the tone of his voice she was at least reassured that he had not uncovered that she had shared a bed the night before with her husband.
“Give me a moment,” she said, yanking on her pants and scanning the room a final time to ensure that Cletus had left nothing behind.
Her blue eyes paused briefly as she caught sight of the sparkling stones inlaid in the hilt of her blade which still rested in the worn chair where she had left it. A part of her had hoped he would steal it, ridding her of the burden. He had made it clear, however, that this sword was something she had to defeat for herself. The doubt lingered whether she would be strong enough to disconnect herself with it. The harder she fought the blade’s pull, the deeper her exhaustion became and the quicker her health faded.
She slid to her bare feet and padded over to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open before immediately moving towards the sitting area where her dusty hide boots had been dumped. Wordlessly, Olin stepped inside and closed the door behind him, flipping the lock back down. He leaned his back against the door, arms folding in front of his chest as he watched Arane flop down onto a chair and pull on her boots.
“It was unwise of me to leave the armory without a proper guard. I know this. It was also unwise of me to not send word as to where I was spending the night,” Arane said as she rose to her feet, reaching for her blade. “I needed a good night’s sleep without men looming outside my door.”
“I understand, Baroness.” Olin stood from his lean, his features remaining grim. “Perhaps in the future we can work out an option that is safer.”
His statement ended any hope that she might be able to repeat the night with Cletus. She offered a solemn nod.
"The Red Orc Brewery is burning," Olin stated in what passed for him as a conversational tone.
"I wonder if we will be blamed for that considering our last dapple in the art of arson." She slid the strap of the sheath over her head so that the sheathed blade rested against her back. “I am ready to return now.”
“I have a small contingent of men and an extra horse waiting outside but I wanted to show you this first,” Olin said, sliding a note from her pocket to hand it to Arane.
She flashed him a puzzled look while reaching out to take it. Her gaze dropped to the paper, flipping it open and reading the brief statement. Magnus was challenging. Drachen had confirmed her fears several nights ago. Magnus was going to kill her for what she had done to Cletus, for being Cletus’ Achilles heel, for the influence she had over Cletus and Magnus’s heir – Zen. The challenge removed any lingering doubt. Her death sentence had been moved up.
The sword raged on her fear, immediately spinning it into anger. She was not going down without a fight. Magnus would not gain control of her son – even if she must make a deal with the devil to ensure that. Her hardened gaze moved back up to Olin’s grim features.
“Find me Drachen.”
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TheAce0fSpades
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 4
- Joined: Mon Apr 05, 2004 4:56 pm
- Location: Blindfold Establishment
He remembered what it felt like….he had done it all before…
Ace felt the blood trickling down his left arm as he blinked himself awake. There was no telling how long he was unconscious. He had fallen into a deep, dark cavern pit, and was greeted violently by the rock awaiting him at the bottom. Even now he could not tell if his eyes were open, for all he was staring into was blackness. He struggled to push himself up as he felt around blindly; unwilling to risk crashing into some unseen obstruction. Calling out did him little good, as he had separated from his party several hours ago. He was lost, alone, completely helpless, and surrounded by total darkness.
As if someone heard his unspoken wish, a pair of torches suddenly sprang to life. They burned Ace’s eyes with the sudden brightness they brought. Once his eyes had focused, Ace saw a polished marble altar a few yards before him. As he took a step towards it, he stumbled over a rock and fell face first into the jagged cave floor. He struggled to see as blood flowed from his forehead over his eyes, but he knew he had to reach that altar. Voices were whispering in his ear. They were guiding him towards it. He struggled to get up, to move forward, and the voices gave him the strength and determination he needed. His hand soon found the marble slab and the prize it held.
The twin, silver daggers looked like nothing he had ever seen before. The flickering of the torches danced against them and reflected the beauty into his bloodshot eyes. Immediately his mind was cleared of any other thought or emotion, and he reached out for the weapons. No sooner had he grabbed them than he felt something tearing at his insides. It caused a pain in he had never felt before. A blind hand was reaching out for him, taking his soul and choking it. Ace still heard the voice and he felt the pain, but they were no longer his concern. He let go; he let go of everything he knew. The will of the daggers became his will. He lived to serve the creator.
However, the creator had made one terrible mistake. The daggers were not made for one so ready and willing to give in to them. Over time, Ace and the daggers became a single entity. Together they grew more dominant than the creator, and they overpowered him. In this way, Ace had silenced the mysterious voice that drew him to the magical weapons, but not without first ascertaining the daggers’ secrets and origins. After several years of harnessing this knowledge, Ace was finally able to craft his own weapon of corruption, but used the structure of the sword in which to amass its power. Ace also fashioned the blade with an intended wielder in mind; the wife of his sworn enemy’s brother, Arane Ganderfald.
And now she was going through it just as he had. Though Ace had given in willingly, Arane was struggling to accept her fate. She refused to let go of the life she had. But Ace had expected this, and was depending on it. She would need help, and he would be the one to provide it. As a result, Arane would help him carry out his revenge on the man who took his eye and his original life. Furthermore, she would help him realize the single aspiration that filled his mind when he first touched those lovely silver daggers.
Ace felt the blood trickling down his left arm as he blinked himself awake. There was no telling how long he was unconscious. He had fallen into a deep, dark cavern pit, and was greeted violently by the rock awaiting him at the bottom. Even now he could not tell if his eyes were open, for all he was staring into was blackness. He struggled to push himself up as he felt around blindly; unwilling to risk crashing into some unseen obstruction. Calling out did him little good, as he had separated from his party several hours ago. He was lost, alone, completely helpless, and surrounded by total darkness.
As if someone heard his unspoken wish, a pair of torches suddenly sprang to life. They burned Ace’s eyes with the sudden brightness they brought. Once his eyes had focused, Ace saw a polished marble altar a few yards before him. As he took a step towards it, he stumbled over a rock and fell face first into the jagged cave floor. He struggled to see as blood flowed from his forehead over his eyes, but he knew he had to reach that altar. Voices were whispering in his ear. They were guiding him towards it. He struggled to get up, to move forward, and the voices gave him the strength and determination he needed. His hand soon found the marble slab and the prize it held.
The twin, silver daggers looked like nothing he had ever seen before. The flickering of the torches danced against them and reflected the beauty into his bloodshot eyes. Immediately his mind was cleared of any other thought or emotion, and he reached out for the weapons. No sooner had he grabbed them than he felt something tearing at his insides. It caused a pain in he had never felt before. A blind hand was reaching out for him, taking his soul and choking it. Ace still heard the voice and he felt the pain, but they were no longer his concern. He let go; he let go of everything he knew. The will of the daggers became his will. He lived to serve the creator.
However, the creator had made one terrible mistake. The daggers were not made for one so ready and willing to give in to them. Over time, Ace and the daggers became a single entity. Together they grew more dominant than the creator, and they overpowered him. In this way, Ace had silenced the mysterious voice that drew him to the magical weapons, but not without first ascertaining the daggers’ secrets and origins. After several years of harnessing this knowledge, Ace was finally able to craft his own weapon of corruption, but used the structure of the sword in which to amass its power. Ace also fashioned the blade with an intended wielder in mind; the wife of his sworn enemy’s brother, Arane Ganderfald.
And now she was going through it just as he had. Though Ace had given in willingly, Arane was struggling to accept her fate. She refused to let go of the life she had. But Ace had expected this, and was depending on it. She would need help, and he would be the one to provide it. As a result, Arane would help him carry out his revenge on the man who took his eye and his original life. Furthermore, she would help him realize the single aspiration that filled his mind when he first touched those lovely silver daggers.
It was finally over…
Magnus stood over the dead body that was his former enemy and his former friend. The sword that was both Ace’s creation and demise still remained lodged in the back of his corpse. Magnus stared emotionlessly into Ace’s lifeless eye for hours before he finally came to his decision.
“Forgive me for the desecration I do to your body, but I must make sure you do not rise once again.”
Magnus then unfolded the cloth package Cletus had made some nights ago and revealed the polished silver daggers which began this 18 year nightmare. With gloved hands, Magnus grabbed them both so that each tip was pointing to the ground. After muttering a few final words, the dagger in his right was plunged into the heart of Ace’s corpse. Not long after, the additional polished silver was buried through Ace’s neck. Magnus then moved to the back of the body and pulled free the cursed sword, leaving Ace’s body to fall limp on its side.
Cletus had stressed the importance of destroying all three weapons to ensure that this terrible saga ended, but Magnus recognized the silvery metal now that he held the dreadful blade in front of him. His former master Xan’tar had a weapon fashioned from the same rare substance and told him of its history. The silver had an extremely high melting point, one that only the breath of the now extinct Grexland Black Dragon could reach. These weapons had therefore been crafted nearly 1,000 years ago, before the dragons were all killed by greedy poachers, and were now indestructible. Magnus was unsure whether the dagger’s maker had this intension, but surely Ace had.
Magnus laid Ace’s desecrated body into the concrete coffin. After a simple salute, he pushed the lid to hide the corpse in darkness. Feeling that Ace did not deserve to be buried in Polaris after the horrible crimes he committed there, Magnus chose that Battlefield Park would be a fitting resting place for him. It was here he positioned his sword to be found by Arane, and it would be here where Magnus left his body.
“You….lose…”
Ace’s final words ran through his mind over and over again. Had Ace intended the blade to fall into his hands all along? Was it really over? Whether it was or not, Magnus had come to another decision. The sword was to stay with him so that he could discover just what Ace had done to it. Magnus also hoped to learn who crafted the daggers as well. And if Ace were to somehow rise again, he would still have the weapon needed to silence him.
Perhaps it was over. Or maybe it was just now beginning…
Magnus stood over the dead body that was his former enemy and his former friend. The sword that was both Ace’s creation and demise still remained lodged in the back of his corpse. Magnus stared emotionlessly into Ace’s lifeless eye for hours before he finally came to his decision.
“Forgive me for the desecration I do to your body, but I must make sure you do not rise once again.”
Magnus then unfolded the cloth package Cletus had made some nights ago and revealed the polished silver daggers which began this 18 year nightmare. With gloved hands, Magnus grabbed them both so that each tip was pointing to the ground. After muttering a few final words, the dagger in his right was plunged into the heart of Ace’s corpse. Not long after, the additional polished silver was buried through Ace’s neck. Magnus then moved to the back of the body and pulled free the cursed sword, leaving Ace’s body to fall limp on its side.
Cletus had stressed the importance of destroying all three weapons to ensure that this terrible saga ended, but Magnus recognized the silvery metal now that he held the dreadful blade in front of him. His former master Xan’tar had a weapon fashioned from the same rare substance and told him of its history. The silver had an extremely high melting point, one that only the breath of the now extinct Grexland Black Dragon could reach. These weapons had therefore been crafted nearly 1,000 years ago, before the dragons were all killed by greedy poachers, and were now indestructible. Magnus was unsure whether the dagger’s maker had this intension, but surely Ace had.
Magnus laid Ace’s desecrated body into the concrete coffin. After a simple salute, he pushed the lid to hide the corpse in darkness. Feeling that Ace did not deserve to be buried in Polaris after the horrible crimes he committed there, Magnus chose that Battlefield Park would be a fitting resting place for him. It was here he positioned his sword to be found by Arane, and it would be here where Magnus left his body.
“You….lose…”
Ace’s final words ran through his mind over and over again. Had Ace intended the blade to fall into his hands all along? Was it really over? Whether it was or not, Magnus had come to another decision. The sword was to stay with him so that he could discover just what Ace had done to it. Magnus also hoped to learn who crafted the daggers as well. And if Ace were to somehow rise again, he would still have the weapon needed to silence him.
Perhaps it was over. Or maybe it was just now beginning…
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Two day’s travel south of the metropolis of RhyDin and just behind the sandy dunes along the Talsinian coast, sat the heavy stone walls of the infamous Atalaya Manor. Three sides of the square structure were home to the family while the fourth side housed the Manor’s staff. The home was not particularly large as the center was a immense tropical courtyard, allowing nearly every room of the house an uninterrupted view. The protective structure had withstood many storms – both of the natural and manmade variety – over the past century since it’s creation.
The remote locale and architecture seemed to have been designed with the desire of privacy in mind. Therefore, it was of no surprise to the permanent staff that shortly after word came that their employer had rebuked the blade that had tainted her mind, a messenger arrived on a tired horse to inform the staff that preparations must be made for the family’s arrival.
When the carriage had entered the arched gate, Cletus Ganderfald had ushered his frail wife straight to their room. While those close to Arane had seen her ill many times over the years, especially during her pregnancies which seemed to weigh the most on her weak health, they had never feared her death as they did now. None were allowed into her room save her husband. Doctors were something that the strong-willed woman never tolerated.
Their worries were not limited to Mrs. Ganderfald but extended to Cletus. He was known for his cool, impenetrable demeanor. The exhausted, hagrid-appearing man who had arrived from RhyDin seemed almost a stranger. However, as the days progressed and Arane became stronger, Cletus allowed himself some sleep. Under the loyal staff’s careful watch, both slowly began to show signs of the indomitable force they had once been.
As soon as they were healthy enough, the manor was suddenly invigorated when Cletus sent for the couple’s children to join them. The three children always brought such life and a dimension of chaos to the house.
With the family back, the once silent empty house returned to the state that seemed natural for it. Children’s laughter filled the long elegant hallways and was joined with the sounds of the staff going about their daily chores to ensure the smooth running of the household.
As Arane and Cletus grew stronger, they began to put back together their broken company. Thanks to the actions of the Hennessee family of Fermoy that blocked any other organization from gaining power in Talsiny and the surrounding areas, it was much easier than expected. Their young leader would have to be thanked appropriately.
In the private cusp of Atalaya Manor, the ugly chapter of their lives that had closed on the night of the challenge began to seem like ancient history. And for at least a short while, safety and some semblance of normalcy had overtaken the lives of the Ganderfald family.
The remote locale and architecture seemed to have been designed with the desire of privacy in mind. Therefore, it was of no surprise to the permanent staff that shortly after word came that their employer had rebuked the blade that had tainted her mind, a messenger arrived on a tired horse to inform the staff that preparations must be made for the family’s arrival.
When the carriage had entered the arched gate, Cletus Ganderfald had ushered his frail wife straight to their room. While those close to Arane had seen her ill many times over the years, especially during her pregnancies which seemed to weigh the most on her weak health, they had never feared her death as they did now. None were allowed into her room save her husband. Doctors were something that the strong-willed woman never tolerated.
Their worries were not limited to Mrs. Ganderfald but extended to Cletus. He was known for his cool, impenetrable demeanor. The exhausted, hagrid-appearing man who had arrived from RhyDin seemed almost a stranger. However, as the days progressed and Arane became stronger, Cletus allowed himself some sleep. Under the loyal staff’s careful watch, both slowly began to show signs of the indomitable force they had once been.
As soon as they were healthy enough, the manor was suddenly invigorated when Cletus sent for the couple’s children to join them. The three children always brought such life and a dimension of chaos to the house.
With the family back, the once silent empty house returned to the state that seemed natural for it. Children’s laughter filled the long elegant hallways and was joined with the sounds of the staff going about their daily chores to ensure the smooth running of the household.
As Arane and Cletus grew stronger, they began to put back together their broken company. Thanks to the actions of the Hennessee family of Fermoy that blocked any other organization from gaining power in Talsiny and the surrounding areas, it was much easier than expected. Their young leader would have to be thanked appropriately.
In the private cusp of Atalaya Manor, the ugly chapter of their lives that had closed on the night of the challenge began to seem like ancient history. And for at least a short while, safety and some semblance of normalcy had overtaken the lives of the Ganderfald family.
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