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CERAMIC D.M. (not the current one, a year old)
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<blockquote data-quote="NoOneofConsequence" data-source="post: 860271" data-attributes="member: 5400"><p><strong>A prayer that I'm not too late.</strong></p><p></p><p>“As you can see, the mickelmas bee is naturally quite docile,” said the sage happily. “As long as the queen is not threatened the hive will not treat you as any danger at all.” As he was speaking, the bees in question were crawling all over his wrinkled face, along the steel frame of his spectacles and even up into to his thinning hair [pic 5]. Treffin found the entire thing extremely disconcerting, regardless of the Sage’s breezy manner.</p><p></p><p>It was only two days since their encounter with the river hag and Treffin’s nerves were still raw. He jumped at random noises and hadn’t slept more than an hour straight. Now he found himself wedged into a narrow fissure of rock, with a lamp attached to his helmet, while above him the Sage pottered around a natural chamber filled with stinging insects. In spite of the Sage’s assurance that the bees’ hive would be easy to find, the climb through the deep winding tunnels to the hive’s exact location had worn Treffin’s nerves thin.</p><p></p><p>“And this,” continued the sage, holding up a thin lump of glowing flesh. “Is the queen. She glows like this to light the way for the rest of the hive in these dark caves.”</p><p></p><p>To Treffin the queen looked like an overgrown glowworm and not at all as dangerous as the sage seemed to think. Then, with a gasp of terror, the sage dropped the queen. The droopy little monarch turned end over end downward into the shaft where Treffin was jammed uncomfortably. It flew past his face and on down. Without thinking, the young mercenary thrust out his moccasined foot and caught the queen between the top of his shoe and the rock wall.</p><p></p><p>“Oh good catch,” called the sage. “Just be careful that she doesn’t sting you. The venom is most….”</p><p></p><p>Treffin heard nothing more, as a magmatic wave of pain cascaded up his leg from the top of his foot, the queen’s venom burning through his veins. As the heat in his body rises, his heart slows down, beating in his chest like the clenching and unclenching of a gauntleted fist. His eyesight darkened to black and the tight rock walls fell away. The burning of the venom infected every aspect of his being; he heard burning in his ears and smelt it in his nostrils; he tasted fire and his eyesight was an agonizing cinder black.</p><p></p><p>Then there was nothing; no sight, no feeling, no sound. Treffin wondered if this was death.</p><p></p><p>“You are not dead,” said a voice heavy with weariness.</p><p></p><p>“Who said that?” asked Treffin, surprised to find that he had a voice.</p><p></p><p>“I did; you did; we did.” A figure emerged from the darkness, as though the shadows were mist that had simply dissipated under the warmth of an unseen sun. Dressed in a simple robe of white homespun, the individual was about Treffin’s height and seemed vaguely familiar. But he was frail beyond description, his skin hanging on his frame. His long hair was bleached white by time and his eyes had sunken deep into his skull. In spite of the lightness and simplicity of his clothing, he seemed weighed down, as if by crushing burdens. [pic 1]</p><p></p><p>“What?” asked Treffin. “I don’t understand.”</p><p></p><p>“Because of the supernatural powers of the queen bee’s venom, I have this one moment to meet with you here,” answered the ancient.</p><p></p><p>“Where is here?”</p><p></p><p>“That is not important. What matters is what I have to show you.”</p><p></p><p>Around Treffin the darkness he perceived gave way to light, to images of life, though there was no sound to hear. He and the ancient figure stood in the village square of Treffin’s home. The morning sun was up and they were looking south, towards the small stone shrine. Standing in front of the shrine, Treffin could see himself; or at least an older version of himself. He was dressed in an expensive looking suit of exotic armour. He was standing proud and Treffin was pleased to see himself so well adorned and clearly successful. Mercenary life seemed to agree with him. [pic 3]</p><p></p><p>“Marvelous,” he said admiringly.</p><p></p><p>“Do you think so?” asked the ancient figure. “So did I once.”</p><p></p><p>The viewpoint of Treffin’s vision shifted and he was suddenly looking north from where he had just seen himself standing as an older warrior. Scattered about the square were armed soldiers, equipped as he was. Also amongst them were several bald men with white painted faces and heavy, dark robes. They looked like priests of some kind but there was something frightening about them. As he watched, Treffin saw two of the robed men emerge from the village festhall. Between them they led the headman’s son, Treffin’s life-long friend, his hands tied behind his back with stout cords. </p><p></p><p>They dragged him to the middle of the village square. They forced him to his knees, with his head pressed against a butcher’s chopping block. With a single stroke a third priest sheared the prisoner’s head from his shoulders. Treffin could not believe what he was witnessing. As the man’s lifeblood soaked the dusty ground, the vision faded from sight. [pic 4]</p><p></p><p>“What is this you’re showing me?” he demanded of the ancient. “Why am I overseeing the execution of my friend?”</p><p></p><p>“Because they paid you,” was the reply. “And you’re always on the lookout for more money. That’s why you took the contract with the cult in the first place, and why you persisted with them, even after their orders began to destroy you within; your lust for money crushed your conscience, your soul, all that is good about you.”</p><p></p><p>“How can you say this?”</p><p></p><p>“Because I am you, you fool,” said the ancient. Treffin could not respond to this, as the darkness crowded in again. The weary figure explained himself. “Service to the cult, and others like them, will make you the most successful mercenary leader that history has ever known. But in being so, you will do evil things, unfathomable things, and the people of the lands will come to loathe you. Eventually your career of violence will be ended and you will be accursed, with immortality.”</p><p></p><p>“Immortality doesn’t sound like a curse,” said Treffin, trying to make sense of the story he was being told.</p><p></p><p>“Does it not? I dwell every day in a stone cell cut into the rock of this very mountain, with walls of adamantine. I pray for death daily yet I know it will not come. I am over seven hundred years old and it is over six centuries since I have laid eyes upon sunlight.”</p><p></p><p>“You are me?” asked Treffin, the horrible realization of all he was witnessing making itself unavoidable. The ancient had one further statement to make before he vanished.</p><p></p><p>“Do not waste this chance,” it urged. “Listen to the sage and live to one day die.”</p><p></p><p>The blackness gripped him again and his eyes burned beneath clenched lids. A wave of something cool passed through him and the fire began to abate. The soft sound of bird calls wormed its way into his head and he realized that he was lying on the cool, shaded grass outside the entrance to the caves of the mickelmas bee hive. Daring to peer through squinted eyes for just a moment. He caught sight of the sage leaning over him for just a moment before the pain of the afternoon sunlight caused him to shut his eyes again.</p><p></p><p>“Oh well done lad,” said the sage. “You’re going to live, I think.”</p><p></p><p>“I am?” Treffin asked weakly.</p><p></p><p>“Oh yes. Very clever of you, by the way, to go limp like that; most people fit under the influence of mickelmas queen venom. If you’d done that the threat to the queen would probably have gotten us stung to death. Very clever; I guess I’ll have to pay you extra for this.”</p><p></p><p>At the mention of payment, Treffin’s vision flooded back in all it’s horror. He forced himself into a half sitting position, in spite of the pain, and he gripped the sage with vice like fingers.</p><p></p><p>“That’s alright,” he said tersely through gritted teeth, his bloodshot eyes blazing ferociously. “No need for more money; it’s all part of the service.” Then he collapsed backwards onto the grass, unconscious.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="NoOneofConsequence, post: 860271, member: 5400"] [b]A prayer that I'm not too late.[/b] “As you can see, the mickelmas bee is naturally quite docile,” said the sage happily. “As long as the queen is not threatened the hive will not treat you as any danger at all.” As he was speaking, the bees in question were crawling all over his wrinkled face, along the steel frame of his spectacles and even up into to his thinning hair [pic 5]. Treffin found the entire thing extremely disconcerting, regardless of the Sage’s breezy manner. It was only two days since their encounter with the river hag and Treffin’s nerves were still raw. He jumped at random noises and hadn’t slept more than an hour straight. Now he found himself wedged into a narrow fissure of rock, with a lamp attached to his helmet, while above him the Sage pottered around a natural chamber filled with stinging insects. In spite of the Sage’s assurance that the bees’ hive would be easy to find, the climb through the deep winding tunnels to the hive’s exact location had worn Treffin’s nerves thin. “And this,” continued the sage, holding up a thin lump of glowing flesh. “Is the queen. She glows like this to light the way for the rest of the hive in these dark caves.” To Treffin the queen looked like an overgrown glowworm and not at all as dangerous as the sage seemed to think. Then, with a gasp of terror, the sage dropped the queen. The droopy little monarch turned end over end downward into the shaft where Treffin was jammed uncomfortably. It flew past his face and on down. Without thinking, the young mercenary thrust out his moccasined foot and caught the queen between the top of his shoe and the rock wall. “Oh good catch,” called the sage. “Just be careful that she doesn’t sting you. The venom is most….” Treffin heard nothing more, as a magmatic wave of pain cascaded up his leg from the top of his foot, the queen’s venom burning through his veins. As the heat in his body rises, his heart slows down, beating in his chest like the clenching and unclenching of a gauntleted fist. His eyesight darkened to black and the tight rock walls fell away. The burning of the venom infected every aspect of his being; he heard burning in his ears and smelt it in his nostrils; he tasted fire and his eyesight was an agonizing cinder black. Then there was nothing; no sight, no feeling, no sound. Treffin wondered if this was death. “You are not dead,” said a voice heavy with weariness. “Who said that?” asked Treffin, surprised to find that he had a voice. “I did; you did; we did.” A figure emerged from the darkness, as though the shadows were mist that had simply dissipated under the warmth of an unseen sun. Dressed in a simple robe of white homespun, the individual was about Treffin’s height and seemed vaguely familiar. But he was frail beyond description, his skin hanging on his frame. His long hair was bleached white by time and his eyes had sunken deep into his skull. In spite of the lightness and simplicity of his clothing, he seemed weighed down, as if by crushing burdens. [pic 1] “What?” asked Treffin. “I don’t understand.” “Because of the supernatural powers of the queen bee’s venom, I have this one moment to meet with you here,” answered the ancient. “Where is here?” “That is not important. What matters is what I have to show you.” Around Treffin the darkness he perceived gave way to light, to images of life, though there was no sound to hear. He and the ancient figure stood in the village square of Treffin’s home. The morning sun was up and they were looking south, towards the small stone shrine. Standing in front of the shrine, Treffin could see himself; or at least an older version of himself. He was dressed in an expensive looking suit of exotic armour. He was standing proud and Treffin was pleased to see himself so well adorned and clearly successful. Mercenary life seemed to agree with him. [pic 3] “Marvelous,” he said admiringly. “Do you think so?” asked the ancient figure. “So did I once.” The viewpoint of Treffin’s vision shifted and he was suddenly looking north from where he had just seen himself standing as an older warrior. Scattered about the square were armed soldiers, equipped as he was. Also amongst them were several bald men with white painted faces and heavy, dark robes. They looked like priests of some kind but there was something frightening about them. As he watched, Treffin saw two of the robed men emerge from the village festhall. Between them they led the headman’s son, Treffin’s life-long friend, his hands tied behind his back with stout cords. They dragged him to the middle of the village square. They forced him to his knees, with his head pressed against a butcher’s chopping block. With a single stroke a third priest sheared the prisoner’s head from his shoulders. Treffin could not believe what he was witnessing. As the man’s lifeblood soaked the dusty ground, the vision faded from sight. [pic 4] “What is this you’re showing me?” he demanded of the ancient. “Why am I overseeing the execution of my friend?” “Because they paid you,” was the reply. “And you’re always on the lookout for more money. That’s why you took the contract with the cult in the first place, and why you persisted with them, even after their orders began to destroy you within; your lust for money crushed your conscience, your soul, all that is good about you.” “How can you say this?” “Because I am you, you fool,” said the ancient. Treffin could not respond to this, as the darkness crowded in again. The weary figure explained himself. “Service to the cult, and others like them, will make you the most successful mercenary leader that history has ever known. But in being so, you will do evil things, unfathomable things, and the people of the lands will come to loathe you. Eventually your career of violence will be ended and you will be accursed, with immortality.” “Immortality doesn’t sound like a curse,” said Treffin, trying to make sense of the story he was being told. “Does it not? I dwell every day in a stone cell cut into the rock of this very mountain, with walls of adamantine. I pray for death daily yet I know it will not come. I am over seven hundred years old and it is over six centuries since I have laid eyes upon sunlight.” “You are me?” asked Treffin, the horrible realization of all he was witnessing making itself unavoidable. The ancient had one further statement to make before he vanished. “Do not waste this chance,” it urged. “Listen to the sage and live to one day die.” The blackness gripped him again and his eyes burned beneath clenched lids. A wave of something cool passed through him and the fire began to abate. The soft sound of bird calls wormed its way into his head and he realized that he was lying on the cool, shaded grass outside the entrance to the caves of the mickelmas bee hive. Daring to peer through squinted eyes for just a moment. He caught sight of the sage leaning over him for just a moment before the pain of the afternoon sunlight caused him to shut his eyes again. “Oh well done lad,” said the sage. “You’re going to live, I think.” “I am?” Treffin asked weakly. “Oh yes. Very clever of you, by the way, to go limp like that; most people fit under the influence of mickelmas queen venom. If you’d done that the threat to the queen would probably have gotten us stung to death. Very clever; I guess I’ll have to pay you extra for this.” At the mention of payment, Treffin’s vision flooded back in all it’s horror. He forced himself into a half sitting position, in spite of the pain, and he gripped the sage with vice like fingers. “That’s alright,” he said tersely through gritted teeth, his bloodshot eyes blazing ferociously. “No need for more money; it’s all part of the service.” Then he collapsed backwards onto the grass, unconscious. [/QUOTE]
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