Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.
Rocket your D&D 5E and Level Up: Advanced 5E games into space! Alpha Star Magazine Is Launching... Right Now!

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="barsoomcore" data-source="post: 4209608" data-attributes="member: 812">What A Woman's Got To Do: 6Nevid was dancing. With the handsomest man he'd ever seen.Tall and dark-haired with glittering green eyes. Stern but how he warmed when he smiled. Nevid's heart pounded as strong arms came around him and they stepped across the dance floor, all the court clapping and beaming with delight.Kaley. This was Kaley.Nevid tried to keep it all straight. But everything got mixed up in his head.He lay, bound in tight ropes, listening to the screams outside. The walls shook with a sudden explosion. The door slid open. The most beautiful face in history smiled at him."Hello, darling. I'm so sorry about this."Nevid shook, struggling to keep his mind clear.The handsome man leered and antlers sprang from his forehead and the court all around turned into gibbering, capering creatures and he screamed and screamed and screamed."Somebody pick up Nevid. This is going to be a problem, I think."Elena leaned on her walking-stick and watched as Etienne and Isaac bent to lift their unconscious companion and began dragging him along the path.The highlands of Shaer had little to recommend them. Isaac scowled and chewed more ferociously on his cigar as he leant into the wind. Just up ahead a moss-covered outcropping of grey stone promised some relief from the howling gale, and he led his friends that way, stepping carefully over the loose shale that covered the hillside.The castle they sought lay upon a hilltop just ahead, a winding path still visible through the shale up to its dark gate. Much less impressive a pile than Dannockshire, this castle looked considerably more weather-beaten. The walls lay half-covered in creepers and tufted shrubs clung to the battlements, betraying the place's abandonment."Let's go. It'll be nicer in there than anywhere else.""Except for the being haunted bit. Does anyone hear singing?""That's just the wind, Elena.""I don't think that's the wind."As they crossed the last valley and began heading up the path, Etienne nodded."I can hear it, too."Arrafin scowled impatiently."I don't hear a thing. What are you-- Oh. Singing."They stopped for a second and listened."Fame has its fosterlings, free of the limitsBoxing all others, and Barselid was one of them."The words grew clearer as they continued to scramble up the path; a bloody tale of vengeance and slaughter. The voice sounded distinctly Shearic and carried the same self-amused smirk that Elena had always heard in the Shaeric men they'd been drinking with last night. They arrived at the gate and the wind seemed to fade away, the voice growing ever-stronger."Ten lives for one was the tariff for entry;And no man got credit. Crushed and split skulls,Blasted off limbs and lathers of bloodWere the money they soughted and minted themselves --Worth every ounce of the weregild they asked."The friends looked at each other and shrugged. Isaac began to call out, but stopped at Arrafin's hand on his arm."Wait. That's Barselid Hyvar, right? Singing to keep the Sleeping King asleep, right?""Right.""How's he going to talk to us? If he stops singing then the Sleeping King awakes. Isn't that bad?""Maybe he can, you know, sing his side of the conversation. He's been going for four thousand years, you gotta imagine he's looking for some material.""Right."Arrafin shrugged and released Isaac's arm. The burly Saijadani called out, "Barselid Hyvar! We have come to find Magreb and bring her to her father!"The singing stopped in mid-sentence. The wind stopped at the same moment. The sudden silence shocked them all, and lent a sinister air to the crumbling walls all around them."Barselid Hyvar! We mean no harm; we just want to take Magreb to her father. The Sleeping King."At first Elena thought it was the wind starting up again but she realised the thin whispering was a voice, speaking with a Shaeric accent."Yon lass' no so able to make such a trip, I tell ye."They all spun around, but there was no sign of anyone to speak the words they all heard, faintly but with perfect clarity."Mr. Hyvar? May we enter your home? Sir?""Aye, and be welcome."Shuffling, pressing close together, the five friends made their way across the dirt-packed courtyard and into the keep's great hall, where a pair of long tables and overturned chairs lay under a thick pelt of dust. Cobwebs rose up like tents around the candelabra on the tables. As the five walked, their footsteps lifted clouds of dust into the still air."Isn't he supposed to be singing? What happens if he stops singing? I told you not to talk to him, Isaac.""I am singing, lass. Fear not. That ye can no hear it, dinna mean there's no singing to be heard now."He sat in a throne at the far end of the hall, covered in just as much dust as everything else. His lips did not move as he spoke, but somehow they all knew that this shrouded figure, lifeless and still, was their host. They drew nearer, staring.He sat in a casual pose, hands on the armrests of his chair, head erect, eyes still open and still gleaming with life. As they approached, Elena saw the eyes flick from one side to the other."What are you? Are you a spirit?""Aye. As ye call me, mortal lass. So I am.""Are you one of the Tuthean Tarn?""I was, I was. But they no remember as they should. The Oath weakens with time, ye see. And as it weakens, so do they.""Will they be set free when it breaks?""Set free?"Strange psychic laughter danced in their brains."No lass, there is no freedom for such as we. Our bindings are our definition, ye see. Wi'out ta binding, we've no rock to cling to. We slip away. But those of the Tuthean Tarn don't think about such matters. They rush towards a fate they no can imagine."But ye've no come to talk to me about them. Ye speak of dear Magreb. Me love. Me true lassie. What do you offer in exchange for her?"The friends looked from one to the other."What do we have that you might want?""I've no idea, lass. I know not what ye are."Nevid shook his head."You can speak inside my head. Can you see my memories, too? If I let you?""Aye.""Look."Nevid concentrated on the memories he carried within him of the Blood Mother. Her memories of facing Yuek Man Chong."Oh, aye. Isn't she something."To the others, it seemed that Nevid shook again, and nearly collapsed, and then the figure on the throne did likewise. Dust flew from its ancient body. The head bowed, thick slabs of congealed detrius sliding from its black hair."Ne'er ha I seen such a beauty. Aye, for her I'd grant ye more than ye ask for. But ye'll find Magreb where she lies, at the top of yon tower. Seek her and bring her to her father, if ye be so lucky."He pointed, raising his head. An intensely handsome face looked up at them, craggy and weathered but with a calm assurance that immediately soothed them."Perhaps and she can convince t'old man to go back where he come from. Perhaps me days o' singing are coming to an end.""Thank you. Sir."*****The tower steps wound up and up. As they climbed, the wind rose up again and magnified within the confines of the tower, seemed strong enough to rip the castle down around them. At last they emerged on what was left of the roof."I don't see anyone. I think maybe the Singing Fairy has led us astray."Isaac turned as Etienne pointed."Is that a sword over there?"The big Saijadani stepped over to the rusted blade and inspected it."Yeah, that's a sword. Well-made, too."He hefted it and blinked, startled at the weapon's uncommonly good balance and light weight. It was a nimble and deft weapon, but seemed to carry the same sort of heft that his father's sword did. Certainly it wasn't a modern smallsword.He held it up and then swept it down, clanging it against the stones of the tower battlements. Rust flew from the blade, revealing gleaming steel beneath. He noticed some engraving and peered closer.Magreb"Hm. This may not be as simple as we thought."</blockquote>

Verification