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Rule of Darkness -Book II Chapter 3 Last Update 19 June 2008- Book I Completed
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<blockquote data-quote="Ghostknight" data-source="post: 3675499" data-attributes="member: 15338"><p><strong>Rule of Darkness- Book II Chapter I- Book 1 complete Updated 2/8/2007</strong></p><p></p><p>The streets of Ger City ran with ichor. Bodies littered the street, each surrounded by its own pool of liquid; some red, some green, some indistinguishable from the black cobbles over which it flowed. Occasional shadows darted across the streets, often cut short by a scream as dark wings dipped down, grabbed a body, only to drop it broken; rent and torn onto the street below. </p><p></p><p>Gerion sat within his fortress, staring deeply into a pool of water. His eyes glowed green as he stared within, their arcane energy suffusing the bowl, turning it into a window on the outside. He saw his city, the bodies littering the street, the once proud houses and spires in ruin, flames dancing in the night as thousands of the dark fiends fluttered overhead, killing everything that moved.</p><p></p><p>His focus shifted, moving across the city, centering on a wide boulevard, once paved with white marble, now coated with the bodily fluids of the piles of corpses that littered its paving stones. Deep red veins suffused the stones, rippling through it, pulsating as they absorbed not just the fluids, but the very essences of the souls that had died upon it, the power flowing through the stones, up the edifice, into a huge crystal that floated in the air.</p><p></p><p>“Beautiful, is it not?” The voice was quiet, cultured; the tone friendly, and all the more menacing for that.</p><p></p><p>‘Did you need to destroy my city to feed your toy?” Gerion turned quickly, uncomfortable with his back to such a powerful being. He grows in power. Once he would not have been able to breach the defences, send his minions within my demesne. His power grows, and if I do not act soon, I will be forever left behind!</p><p></p><p>Jelial laughed, his hand coming to rest on Gerions chest- the neatly manicured nails, arcane symbols etched into them in silver-steel, pressed lightly against the muscles.</p><p></p><p>“Games, Gerion? Surely we are well beyond that. Millennia have passed; millennia in which you have served me well, and loyally. This city was as meaningless to you, as it was to me. The only reason it was of any use to you, was for the corrupted temple and the font.”</p><p></p><p>He turned, his eyes passing over Gerion, resting on the pool. “Ahh, I see that the font was not lost to you. You put it to good use.”</p><p></p><p>Gerion knelt on one knee, bowing his head before rising.</p><p></p><p>“As always, I am at your service, oh liege. I have not known you to jest before; you know, as well as I, that your gem hovers above it, absorbing its power, as it absorbs the souls of those that used to live within this city.”</p><p></p><p>Jelial paced, turning, his walk circling his minion, his dangerous minion, more powerful than any other in his service. What was to come was a gamble, a roll of the dice; even now he questioned his course of action. I must reveal my weakness to him, but how far will he go? Will he continue to bide his time, or do I flirt with disaster?</p><p></p><p>“It was necessary. I need the power.” His eyes came to rest on the pool, on the pool, his will turning it to his desire. The surface flowed, a picture forming, shifting as they watched; different scenes of slaves and others calling his name, working magic and “miracles” thereby. </p><p></p><p>“You know my plan, Gerion. Get them to worship me, fuel my power with the power of their faith. Yet it goes slowly. Till now, their faith does not flow into me, but my power must flow ever outwards. I have extended much power to fuel their prayers, and that power needs to be replenished!” The picture shifted, now concentrating on the immense black gem pulsating with power. “Your city was a necessary sacrifice; its destruction an atonement for your past failures, for the allowing of the escape of your son which cost us victory over Weald Hall, let them escape and establish Harmony Hall, now one of the major points of resistance to my rule! And then your failure at the Fort of Peaks, the one which you blamed on legendary figures from the distant past.” He stopped, his hand coming up, the rune encrusted nails pointed directly at Gerion, “You have yet to show any evidence of the existence of Aspith, beyond blaming your inability to retake the fortress on him. You failed me Gerion, as loyal as you have been, you failed me. So, payment had to be made, and your city was that payment, be glad I did not demand the payment from you!”</p><p></p><p>He smiled at the rage on Gerion’s face, at the heat he could feel rising from his body. Yet Gerion did not strike. </p><p></p><p>“As you say, my liege. But my son will be mine, and the fort will yet fall.’ Gerion turned his back on Jelial, leaving Jelial to wonder; was his lack of fear from not caring, or because he no longer perceived him to be a threat?</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Filio straightened his back. As he did so, sluggish streams of blood broke free from the scabs on his back, a legacy of another bout of disobedience and a session with the lash. The map-work of scars, freshly healed lashes, and the newer, scab encrusted slashes across his back were testimony that he was often in trouble, and thus why he had been sent to work in the fields so close to an area in which war raged, and his death, or loss, would not be considered of any impact.</p><p></p><p>As he stood under the sun, the pain of shoulders and back burnt from no protection in the torturous, near-desert conditions, Filio risked a quick glance around himself, hoping that he would not be noticed by any of the guards, or the overseer. The fields of the cacti which they were harvesting, their fruit considered a delicacy by the many of the fiends, surrounded him on all sides, the path behind him and the other slaves speckled with spots of blood where their feet had been pierced by thin, near invisible thorns. His abandonment of his job, however momentary, had been noticed though, and the sting of a lash across his shoulders, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to raise another welt, bent him back to his task. As he did so, he thought he caught the sight of a dust cloud out in the desert. A puzzle he thought about as he carefully tried to extract the fruit of the cacti without piercing his hands on the thorn: What was making that cloud. The day was windless and nothing lay out in that direction</p><p></p><p>Filio did not wonder long for long, it was but a short time before one of the guards noticed the approaching cloud, his shouts raising the alarm. The dull sound of the massive brass bell tolled across the field, sending herders amongst the slaves, chivying them with lashes of the whip, moving them towards the compound and the protected walls. Filio risked a glance behind, and saw the gigantic lizard-like beasts bearing down on them. Their riders wore red armor, their faces were covered with clothe that kept the dust from their noses, and goggles that protected their eyes. </p><p></p><p>He grinned; the stories of the desert raiders were true! And, if they were true beyond their mere fact of their existence, then the raiders were human! With glee in his eyes, he dived out of the line, running towards the raiders, ignoring the lash that fell across his back. His gamble paid off, the herders were worried about their own safety and the guards about protecting the compound- no one cared about one more disobedient slave! He stopped, out of breathe, as the dust surrounded him. He felt the air being knocked out of him, as he was suddenly swept off his feet by a massively muscled arm and placed across the back of the mount. The raider carrying him swerved out of the mass of the raiders, heading back in the other direction. Filio felt elation, even as the uncomfortable ride took him further into the unknown.</p><p></p><p>Five days into the desert, and Filio had become friends with the raider that had picked him up, freeing him from slavery. Hesdith was not what he had expected, aside from the fact that he was human and untouched by the fiendish taint that marked the allies of those that ruled. Instead of the swarthy, weather hardened skin of the natives of the region, Hasdith was fair, his skin burnt golden by the desert sun. Eyes of bright blue appeared below eyebrows so fine they were almost invisible, and the eyebrows were of the same fine, golden color of the hair cropped short above. </p><p></p><p>Filio sat behind Hesdith, watching as the unchanging desert moved around them. He looked at the riders around them, all bearing their load of raider and freed slave. He remembered their flight, their arrival at the stone outcropping after a whirlwind ride through the sand, to await the return of the other raiders. When they had arrived, more of the lizard-like mounts stood there, burdened with food, water and medical supplies. As they had come in, one of those tending the beasts had come forward, and taken Filio off the mount. Behind him, Hesdith dismounted and removed his goggles.</p><p></p><p>“This one broke away from his captors and ran towards us. I wanted to stop and see to those cuts on his backs, but orders were no stopping until we got back here.”</p><p></p><p>The man that had come forward grunted, and started inspecting the wounds, both new and old.</p><p></p><p>“There is nothing of concern here; most of these are ugly looking, but superficial. Evidently a troublemaker though, surprising that he is still alive. What’s your name and story, boy?”</p><p></p><p>Filio listened to the two, but took no offense at the words or at being spoken about.</p><p></p><p>“Sir, my name is Filio. Originally of the Ger city herd, and then transferred to the plantation herd here.”</p><p></p><p>Hesdith looked at him closely. “Ger city? It’s a long way from there to here, how did they get you here?”</p><p></p><p>Filio turned to look at the raider that had rescued him. “I don’t know. We were loaded into a box, which was sealed and placed onto a wagon. A short while later the wagon stopped and we were let out. Some had died from the heat and the lack of air; those that had survived were here.” He shrugged, “We were there, and then we were here, wherever here is.”</p><p></p><p>The two raiders looked at each other, trading glances that seemed to suggest that what Filio said was of great import, yet he could not understand why. The one that had met them at the meeting point looked towards where the raiders now fought with the fiends and their allies. “We shall have to see how many others are from Ger city or other far flung places; it could be a serious problem if they have established a portal in the area.” Hasdith looked at him grimly, Filio stared back, nut with a complete lack of understanding. </p><p></p><p>“You speak truly, Cynd. This news may be more important than the slaves we rescue this day.” Hasdith looked at Filio, clasping his shoulder, though carefully avoiding the welts, new or old, that adorned his back. “It would seem, Filio that you may have more to offer than you imagined.”</p><p></p><p>They had waited as the sun had wheeled across the sky, at least a quarter of the day, as other raiders returned: singularly, in pairs or in small groups. Throughout that time, the raiders had shared water and food with the ex-slaves, and stories of the good life ahead of them. Amongst the ex-slaves, were some that had heard of the House of Souls, the group the raiders represented. They, to the obvious amusement of their liberators, shared their stories with the others, gleefully telling them of the Houses’ dedication to freeing slaves. As time passed, the stories were embellished, tales of their mighty armies confronting the slave caravans of the fiends being elaborated on in great detail. </p><p></p><p>As they told their stories, Cynd listened in, eventually stepping into their circle. “You labor under some misinformation. The House of Souls does not possess armies, or the means to directly confront and oppose the fiends. Raids such as this one are the limits of our capabilities. For the true resistance against the devils, we have the Alliance to thank., They are the ones the fiends of this area fear; we just use their fear of the Alliance to aid us in our work.”</p><p></p><p>He sighed at the confused looks on their faces.</p><p></p><p>“The news of the Alliance is not yet known to those who toil in slavery? Ah well, in brief it is an alliance between many races that have lived in fear, renegade fiends that have no desire to see Jelial rule…” He broke off as he saw the automatic gesture of subservience many of the recently freed slaves made when the name of the fiendish ruler was used.</p><p></p><p>“None of that! The name of Jelial is hated and cursed by us; those gestures merely serve to increase his power! Now, let me see, where was I? Ah yes, those who make up the alliance: the renegade fiends that oppose Jelial, plus fiends from the planes of Hell that wish to stop Jelial before he can demand a seat amongst the rulers of Hell, with yet more fiends coming in to fight against Jelial- these serving under one known as Aspith, who claims to be a descendant of both fiend and angel. Which brings us to a very bizarre addition to these groups a group of angels from the Celestial sphere, whom are allied with the Mages of the Tower Arcane, Harmony Hall, Fort Livian and Ginder’s Hall. There are rumours that even the Dark Paeons of Hooded Vale have joined. Now, come, we must mount and be gone, the fiends will be coming after us as soon as they have brought their forces to bear.”</p><p></p><p>In the five days since, Filio had thought often on those revelations; fiends that opposed Jelial, agents of the Celestial spheres fighting with them to defeat the invaders from Hell. He had spoken to Hesdith at length as they had ridden, but still could not grasp the concept of devil and angel working, and fighting, together towards a common goal. He looked forward to the future, as confusing as it might be.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Ghostknight, post: 3675499, member: 15338"] [b]Rule of Darkness- Book II Chapter I- Book 1 complete Updated 2/8/2007[/b] The streets of Ger City ran with ichor. Bodies littered the street, each surrounded by its own pool of liquid; some red, some green, some indistinguishable from the black cobbles over which it flowed. Occasional shadows darted across the streets, often cut short by a scream as dark wings dipped down, grabbed a body, only to drop it broken; rent and torn onto the street below. Gerion sat within his fortress, staring deeply into a pool of water. His eyes glowed green as he stared within, their arcane energy suffusing the bowl, turning it into a window on the outside. He saw his city, the bodies littering the street, the once proud houses and spires in ruin, flames dancing in the night as thousands of the dark fiends fluttered overhead, killing everything that moved. His focus shifted, moving across the city, centering on a wide boulevard, once paved with white marble, now coated with the bodily fluids of the piles of corpses that littered its paving stones. Deep red veins suffused the stones, rippling through it, pulsating as they absorbed not just the fluids, but the very essences of the souls that had died upon it, the power flowing through the stones, up the edifice, into a huge crystal that floated in the air. “Beautiful, is it not?” The voice was quiet, cultured; the tone friendly, and all the more menacing for that. ‘Did you need to destroy my city to feed your toy?” Gerion turned quickly, uncomfortable with his back to such a powerful being. He grows in power. Once he would not have been able to breach the defences, send his minions within my demesne. His power grows, and if I do not act soon, I will be forever left behind! Jelial laughed, his hand coming to rest on Gerions chest- the neatly manicured nails, arcane symbols etched into them in silver-steel, pressed lightly against the muscles. “Games, Gerion? Surely we are well beyond that. Millennia have passed; millennia in which you have served me well, and loyally. This city was as meaningless to you, as it was to me. The only reason it was of any use to you, was for the corrupted temple and the font.” He turned, his eyes passing over Gerion, resting on the pool. “Ahh, I see that the font was not lost to you. You put it to good use.” Gerion knelt on one knee, bowing his head before rising. “As always, I am at your service, oh liege. I have not known you to jest before; you know, as well as I, that your gem hovers above it, absorbing its power, as it absorbs the souls of those that used to live within this city.” Jelial paced, turning, his walk circling his minion, his dangerous minion, more powerful than any other in his service. What was to come was a gamble, a roll of the dice; even now he questioned his course of action. I must reveal my weakness to him, but how far will he go? Will he continue to bide his time, or do I flirt with disaster? “It was necessary. I need the power.” His eyes came to rest on the pool, on the pool, his will turning it to his desire. The surface flowed, a picture forming, shifting as they watched; different scenes of slaves and others calling his name, working magic and “miracles” thereby. “You know my plan, Gerion. Get them to worship me, fuel my power with the power of their faith. Yet it goes slowly. Till now, their faith does not flow into me, but my power must flow ever outwards. I have extended much power to fuel their prayers, and that power needs to be replenished!” The picture shifted, now concentrating on the immense black gem pulsating with power. “Your city was a necessary sacrifice; its destruction an atonement for your past failures, for the allowing of the escape of your son which cost us victory over Weald Hall, let them escape and establish Harmony Hall, now one of the major points of resistance to my rule! And then your failure at the Fort of Peaks, the one which you blamed on legendary figures from the distant past.” He stopped, his hand coming up, the rune encrusted nails pointed directly at Gerion, “You have yet to show any evidence of the existence of Aspith, beyond blaming your inability to retake the fortress on him. You failed me Gerion, as loyal as you have been, you failed me. So, payment had to be made, and your city was that payment, be glad I did not demand the payment from you!” He smiled at the rage on Gerion’s face, at the heat he could feel rising from his body. Yet Gerion did not strike. “As you say, my liege. But my son will be mine, and the fort will yet fall.’ Gerion turned his back on Jelial, leaving Jelial to wonder; was his lack of fear from not caring, or because he no longer perceived him to be a threat? *** Filio straightened his back. As he did so, sluggish streams of blood broke free from the scabs on his back, a legacy of another bout of disobedience and a session with the lash. The map-work of scars, freshly healed lashes, and the newer, scab encrusted slashes across his back were testimony that he was often in trouble, and thus why he had been sent to work in the fields so close to an area in which war raged, and his death, or loss, would not be considered of any impact. As he stood under the sun, the pain of shoulders and back burnt from no protection in the torturous, near-desert conditions, Filio risked a quick glance around himself, hoping that he would not be noticed by any of the guards, or the overseer. The fields of the cacti which they were harvesting, their fruit considered a delicacy by the many of the fiends, surrounded him on all sides, the path behind him and the other slaves speckled with spots of blood where their feet had been pierced by thin, near invisible thorns. His abandonment of his job, however momentary, had been noticed though, and the sting of a lash across his shoulders, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to raise another welt, bent him back to his task. As he did so, he thought he caught the sight of a dust cloud out in the desert. A puzzle he thought about as he carefully tried to extract the fruit of the cacti without piercing his hands on the thorn: What was making that cloud. The day was windless and nothing lay out in that direction Filio did not wonder long for long, it was but a short time before one of the guards noticed the approaching cloud, his shouts raising the alarm. The dull sound of the massive brass bell tolled across the field, sending herders amongst the slaves, chivying them with lashes of the whip, moving them towards the compound and the protected walls. Filio risked a glance behind, and saw the gigantic lizard-like beasts bearing down on them. Their riders wore red armor, their faces were covered with clothe that kept the dust from their noses, and goggles that protected their eyes. He grinned; the stories of the desert raiders were true! And, if they were true beyond their mere fact of their existence, then the raiders were human! With glee in his eyes, he dived out of the line, running towards the raiders, ignoring the lash that fell across his back. His gamble paid off, the herders were worried about their own safety and the guards about protecting the compound- no one cared about one more disobedient slave! He stopped, out of breathe, as the dust surrounded him. He felt the air being knocked out of him, as he was suddenly swept off his feet by a massively muscled arm and placed across the back of the mount. The raider carrying him swerved out of the mass of the raiders, heading back in the other direction. Filio felt elation, even as the uncomfortable ride took him further into the unknown. Five days into the desert, and Filio had become friends with the raider that had picked him up, freeing him from slavery. Hesdith was not what he had expected, aside from the fact that he was human and untouched by the fiendish taint that marked the allies of those that ruled. Instead of the swarthy, weather hardened skin of the natives of the region, Hasdith was fair, his skin burnt golden by the desert sun. Eyes of bright blue appeared below eyebrows so fine they were almost invisible, and the eyebrows were of the same fine, golden color of the hair cropped short above. Filio sat behind Hesdith, watching as the unchanging desert moved around them. He looked at the riders around them, all bearing their load of raider and freed slave. He remembered their flight, their arrival at the stone outcropping after a whirlwind ride through the sand, to await the return of the other raiders. When they had arrived, more of the lizard-like mounts stood there, burdened with food, water and medical supplies. As they had come in, one of those tending the beasts had come forward, and taken Filio off the mount. Behind him, Hesdith dismounted and removed his goggles. “This one broke away from his captors and ran towards us. I wanted to stop and see to those cuts on his backs, but orders were no stopping until we got back here.” The man that had come forward grunted, and started inspecting the wounds, both new and old. “There is nothing of concern here; most of these are ugly looking, but superficial. Evidently a troublemaker though, surprising that he is still alive. What’s your name and story, boy?” Filio listened to the two, but took no offense at the words or at being spoken about. “Sir, my name is Filio. Originally of the Ger city herd, and then transferred to the plantation herd here.” Hesdith looked at him closely. “Ger city? It’s a long way from there to here, how did they get you here?” Filio turned to look at the raider that had rescued him. “I don’t know. We were loaded into a box, which was sealed and placed onto a wagon. A short while later the wagon stopped and we were let out. Some had died from the heat and the lack of air; those that had survived were here.” He shrugged, “We were there, and then we were here, wherever here is.” The two raiders looked at each other, trading glances that seemed to suggest that what Filio said was of great import, yet he could not understand why. The one that had met them at the meeting point looked towards where the raiders now fought with the fiends and their allies. “We shall have to see how many others are from Ger city or other far flung places; it could be a serious problem if they have established a portal in the area.” Hasdith looked at him grimly, Filio stared back, nut with a complete lack of understanding. “You speak truly, Cynd. This news may be more important than the slaves we rescue this day.” Hasdith looked at Filio, clasping his shoulder, though carefully avoiding the welts, new or old, that adorned his back. “It would seem, Filio that you may have more to offer than you imagined.” They had waited as the sun had wheeled across the sky, at least a quarter of the day, as other raiders returned: singularly, in pairs or in small groups. Throughout that time, the raiders had shared water and food with the ex-slaves, and stories of the good life ahead of them. Amongst the ex-slaves, were some that had heard of the House of Souls, the group the raiders represented. They, to the obvious amusement of their liberators, shared their stories with the others, gleefully telling them of the Houses’ dedication to freeing slaves. As time passed, the stories were embellished, tales of their mighty armies confronting the slave caravans of the fiends being elaborated on in great detail. As they told their stories, Cynd listened in, eventually stepping into their circle. “You labor under some misinformation. The House of Souls does not possess armies, or the means to directly confront and oppose the fiends. Raids such as this one are the limits of our capabilities. For the true resistance against the devils, we have the Alliance to thank., They are the ones the fiends of this area fear; we just use their fear of the Alliance to aid us in our work.” He sighed at the confused looks on their faces. “The news of the Alliance is not yet known to those who toil in slavery? Ah well, in brief it is an alliance between many races that have lived in fear, renegade fiends that have no desire to see Jelial rule…” He broke off as he saw the automatic gesture of subservience many of the recently freed slaves made when the name of the fiendish ruler was used. “None of that! The name of Jelial is hated and cursed by us; those gestures merely serve to increase his power! Now, let me see, where was I? Ah yes, those who make up the alliance: the renegade fiends that oppose Jelial, plus fiends from the planes of Hell that wish to stop Jelial before he can demand a seat amongst the rulers of Hell, with yet more fiends coming in to fight against Jelial- these serving under one known as Aspith, who claims to be a descendant of both fiend and angel. Which brings us to a very bizarre addition to these groups a group of angels from the Celestial sphere, whom are allied with the Mages of the Tower Arcane, Harmony Hall, Fort Livian and Ginder’s Hall. There are rumours that even the Dark Paeons of Hooded Vale have joined. Now, come, we must mount and be gone, the fiends will be coming after us as soon as they have brought their forces to bear.” In the five days since, Filio had thought often on those revelations; fiends that opposed Jelial, agents of the Celestial spheres fighting with them to defeat the invaders from Hell. He had spoken to Hesdith at length as they had ridden, but still could not grasp the concept of devil and angel working, and fighting, together towards a common goal. He looked forward to the future, as confusing as it might be. [/QUOTE]
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