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Of Fey and Shadow - A Midnight story hour (Restored 14 May 2006)
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<blockquote data-quote="Emiricol" data-source="post: 2126380" data-attributes="member: 469"><p><strong>Main Scene, Winter 99, Last Age</strong></p><p></p><p>Carith's blade fell from his hand almost as soon as the Fell hit the ground, and his body followed not long after. The rush of the fight gone, the pain in his leg was more than he could handle, leaving him gritting his teeth and trying to stay concious. </p><p></p><p>In his mind, memories began to swirl, mixed in with the pain. Memories of Alyea, the village he had stayed in. Happy memories, his only happy memories. And then the darker memories came; his time spent as a soldier of the shadow, countless raids into the forest in Izrador's service, and then the ambush. </p><p></p><p>Carith had already begun to slip into unconciousness when the hawk, <em>Whisper</em>, landed on a tree near him. As there minds slowly merged Carith drew upon the beast's strength and propped himself up up one one arm, calling <span style="color: yellow">"Thrayn, Thrayn where are you?"</span></p><p></p><p>Carith's voice brought Thrayn back from his odd reverie. Voices calling his name echoed still in his mind as he let the magic cloaking him slip away. Thrayn breathed heavily, his exhaled air blowing on the dead man's back. Absently he wiped his blades on the corpse's coat and slid them into their sheathes. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: yellow">"I am here,"</span> Thrayn said, not yet looking at Carith as he stepped away from the body, letting his weight carry him to a heavy landing. <em>This place reeks of the Shadow's stink. The dead rise not only on this Earth.</em> </p><p></p><p>Thrayn's eyes continued to drift back to the woman's body. Was she pale? White skin, hair? Was that the slender point of an ear poking through bloodied tresses? Her head turned to him, the face of his cousin, broken and blooded. <span style="color: green">"Thrayn, Thrayn where are you?"</span> He clamped his eyes shut and then forced them open when he could take it no more. There she lay, again human and quite dead, the misty and troubling memory fleeing from his vision. He turned away and looked at Carith laying grimacing on the ground. <span style="color: yellow">"You were hurt."</span></p><p></p><p>Their conversation was interrupted by heavy thumping, trampling through the woods, and bursting forth from the brushes and undergrowth came Rongald with Dornhild not far behind, axes at the ready. <span style="color: yellow">"Master Thrayn, Master Carith!"</span> Rongald exclaimed with concern.</p><p></p><p>Dornhild exclaimed, <span style="color: yellow">"Elf, the human is bleeding badly! I wager a Tusk that he can not walk far without long rest and the cutting of a healer, or the execution of Fey talents in the realm magical."</span> Despite his concerned tone, Dornhild's expression showed he might prefer the former than the latter. </p><p></p><p>Rongald glanced to the decapitated man and his dead woman, and without a grunt or word, set to likewise decapitate her body, a grim scowl on his face. <span style="color: yellow">"More Fell. Shadow curse them, but they are everywhere in the border regions between Fey and Orc."</span></p><p></p><p>Dornhild meanwhile kneeled near Carith. <span style="color: yellow">Easy, master Carith. Rest."</span> He glanced then to Thrayn, ready to set about binding the wound should the Fey prove as unreliable as his opinion of the elder race might dictate. His feelings were written like carvings upon his face.</p><p></p><p>Thrayn matched Dornhild's gaze and breathed in deeply as he did so. A cool wind whipped about him in a sudden whirl, tossing leaves up about his legs. He could feel the warm rush of arcane energies flood back into his sytem. As the bizarre wind died down in but a moment, he walked over to Carith and knelt down. What was left of the wind blew several leaves past Thrayn's face as he reached forward and traced a pattern of healing runes in the air, his hand descending to touch Carith's savaged and ruined hip. The dying wind picked up once again, suddenly, and a sharp chill ran through Elf and Man alike, accompanied by a muffled, crunching pop as Carith's femur slid back into its joint. The pain was exquisite, but lasted only moments as the torn flesh sealed under the cooling touch of Thrayn's magic.</p><p></p><p>Thrayn stood and once again locked eyes with Dornhild, this time for only a moment. <span style="color: yellow">"Let's return to the camp. Rongald, take what is of use from the bodies - let at least that part of them continue to aid the fight."</span></p><p></p><p>Rongald nodded and set to patting down the bodies. He hooked the man's axe to his belt and went about his task as Thrayn started to walk back to thier camp.</p><p></p><p>With Dornhild's aid Carith slowly stood up from the ground and, repalcing his blade in its sheath, walked slowly back to the camp. His wound was healed but the memory of the pain was all to fresh in his mind, and the chill left from the healing magics made the joint stiff for some time after. </p><p></p><p>Once the small group arrived back at their camp Carith approached Thrayn as he sat next to the fire. <span style="color: yellow">"Thank you. If not for your presence that Fell would have killed me without much trouble, and if not for your healing ability the wound to my leg would not have healed in time to be of any use to the village we travel to, if ever. I know I am all ready greatly in your debt, but I would ask one more thing of you; if you are willing to teach, I would learn the art of sorcery. As you have seen, I have the power within me well beyond most Humans, but I lack any sort of training, and with out that I fear I may prove this gift more of a curse than a blessing, out beyond these trees. I know this is a great gift I ask of you, and many who start down this path never finish, but I am not one of those. I will do whatever I can to oppose the Shadow, no matter the costs to me."</span></p><p></p><p>Paying no heed to the conversation at hand, Rongald unceremoneously dumped what little gear the man and woman had in a pile before the fire, then retreated to the safety of the far side - away from Carith and Thrayn, discreetly giving them their privacy. In the pile gleamed a large dagger and an axe, as well as the woman's silver armband, and a leather beltpouch. The rest was unsalvageable out here, under thier circumstances.</p><p></p><p>Rongald sat slowly next to Dornhild and nodded at the fire. <span style="color: ORANGE">"You never fought the Fell before, my friend?"</span> There was no sound of recrimination to his voice, and the other Norther merely shook his head slowly, staring into the glow of the fire. Rongald continued, <span style="color: ORANGE">"They always unnerve me as well. Master Thrayn is not troubled by them for his own reasons, but I never walk away without fighting the urge to unleash my last meal - just raw nerves."</span></p><p></p><p>Dornhild nodded slowly, and after too many seconds, replied softly, <span style="color: ORANGE">"I have burned many a fallen friend and more enemies, and done more preparations than I can count,"</span> referring to the ritual decapitation of the dead that prevented the dead from Rising. <span style="color: ORANGE">"But never have I fought one. That... man. He was destroyed. His body, I mean. Carith and the Elf had cut that... thing... up enough to drop any three Men. And yet he kept coming, and nearly killed Carith by the looks of it. I should like it very much if I never had to witness one of the Fell again. Much more so if I never have to fight one in this lifetime."</span></p><p></p><p>It was Rongald's turn to nod thoughtfully. <span style="color: ORANGE">"By my Grandfather's spirit I hope you get your wish. That we all get your wish."</span> It was some minutes of comfortable silence before Dornhild arose once more, grabbing up his spear and shield and then settling down under his cloak to try to rest.</p><p></p><p>Carith and Thrayn continued to talk quietly amongst themselves, lost in a conversation of their own. Thrayn sat and stared into the fire as Carith spoke, barely nodding in recognition of his thanks. Another sorcerer and in his debt no less. Admittedly the idea was intriguing, and the human had shown abilities that even he could learn from. But there were the hours, the impatience of a mortal, and also the fact that in any circumstance the man would take the secrets to his eventual grave, being mortal after all. But that too, was a benefit of sorts. More than any other thing, the fact that he would need help to do what was needed to travel in human lands pressed his answer. He looked up at Carith and after a long silence, spoke.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: yellow">"I will teach you. I will spare what time I have and you in return will spare yours when asked. There is work to be done and you cannot help me as you are."</span> He stood and started to walk over toward the piled goods that Rongald had brought back. He called over his shoulder as he crossed the camp, <span style="color: yellow">"Rest, for tomorrow we start. This camp shall be our home for a short time to come."</span></p><p></p><p>When he reached the pile of things brought from the dead, he squatted down and sifted through the pile. The silver armband was a good fit for his own arm and he slid it on over the sleeve of his shirt and nestled it against the higher, golden band on his right arm. He tossed the axe and knife aside, the two Dornmen could put them to use. The last he took was the pouch. He opened it and leaned toward the fire to better see what lay inside.</p><p></p><p>Within the pouch lay three things. A braided bit of horse hair in the form of a ring, of the type sometimes used by the Dorn to show an intention to marry - they were exchanged with one another at some family ceremony.</p><p></p><p>Also within lay a small feather wrapped in twine. Although crudely done, it was probably a human charm. These were virtually mass produced by the Fey, but were relatively rare among the humans. This one bound the essence of a raptor. A talon might improve one's swordplay, but the feather would be used to gift the one who removed the string with the sight of a hawk - to see great distances with clarity, but only for a couple seconds. A minor charm at best.</p><p></p><p>Finally, there lay a single Oruk tusk, probably all the wealth the couple had possessed aside from the armbands.</p><p></p><p>Carith nodded as Thrayn went to work and then moved over to his blanket and lay down before the fire. <em>The training will be difficult to say the least, but in the end what I gain will be more than worth it; perhaps at last I will have enough power to truely oppose the shadow.</em></p><p></p><p>=======================</p><p></p><p>The following days were hard ones. Long hours were spent describing the rudimentaries of moving arcane energies with thought and word. Teased hints were given and frustrated words exchanged between the two sorcerors as Thrayn pushed Carith to discover answers on his own rather than giving them away without work. The two Dornlanders watched at times, but mostly kept to the camp away from the frightening goings on being held just out of earshot in the thicker woods.</p><p></p><p>Many days passed this way, even unto the end of Winter, until finally some hint that the hard-tought lessons had borne fruit came to light.</p><p></p><p>Carith stood in the middle of a grove of trees. His eyes where closed and his hands were extended out before him. Slowly his hands moved back and forth, tracing cryptic patterns in the air attempting to unlock arcane energy. As his hands traced the patterns, Carith spoke, keeping his voice clear and even as he began to cast his spell, "<span style="color: yellow">Re....go.....Her...." </span>. </p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: yellow">No, no, no! I said "clear" - that doesn't have to mean slowly! And remember the accents. How you say each word is almost more important than the word its self. Now try it again,"</span> called Thrayn from one end of the clearing.</p><p></p><p>Carith shook his head, muttered a few curses under his breath and then extended his hands once again. Tracing the symbols he begins to speak again. <span style="color: yellow">"Rego Herbam!"</span> he shouted, breaking the silence of the clearing and releasing a small stream of magic energy. Opening his eyes, Carith glanced around the clearing looking for the effect of his spell, but he felt it first. The grass around his feet had reached up to grab him by the ankles, and he saw a pair of branches from the nearest arch down to wrap around his arms, holding him fast. As Carith struggled agains the poorly aimed spell, Thrayn simply nodded and said, <span style="color: yellow">"Better," </span>before he walked back to their small camp, leaving Carith alone in the woods.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emiricol, post: 2126380, member: 469"] [b]Main Scene, Winter 99, Last Age[/b] Carith's blade fell from his hand almost as soon as the Fell hit the ground, and his body followed not long after. The rush of the fight gone, the pain in his leg was more than he could handle, leaving him gritting his teeth and trying to stay concious. In his mind, memories began to swirl, mixed in with the pain. Memories of Alyea, the village he had stayed in. Happy memories, his only happy memories. And then the darker memories came; his time spent as a soldier of the shadow, countless raids into the forest in Izrador's service, and then the ambush. Carith had already begun to slip into unconciousness when the hawk, [i]Whisper[/i], landed on a tree near him. As there minds slowly merged Carith drew upon the beast's strength and propped himself up up one one arm, calling [color=yellow]"Thrayn, Thrayn where are you?"[/color] Carith's voice brought Thrayn back from his odd reverie. Voices calling his name echoed still in his mind as he let the magic cloaking him slip away. Thrayn breathed heavily, his exhaled air blowing on the dead man's back. Absently he wiped his blades on the corpse's coat and slid them into their sheathes. [color=yellow]"I am here,"[/color] Thrayn said, not yet looking at Carith as he stepped away from the body, letting his weight carry him to a heavy landing. [i]This place reeks of the Shadow's stink. The dead rise not only on this Earth.[/i] Thrayn's eyes continued to drift back to the woman's body. Was she pale? White skin, hair? Was that the slender point of an ear poking through bloodied tresses? Her head turned to him, the face of his cousin, broken and blooded. [color=green]"Thrayn, Thrayn where are you?"[/color] He clamped his eyes shut and then forced them open when he could take it no more. There she lay, again human and quite dead, the misty and troubling memory fleeing from his vision. He turned away and looked at Carith laying grimacing on the ground. [color=yellow]"You were hurt."[/color] Their conversation was interrupted by heavy thumping, trampling through the woods, and bursting forth from the brushes and undergrowth came Rongald with Dornhild not far behind, axes at the ready. [color=yellow]"Master Thrayn, Master Carith!"[/color] Rongald exclaimed with concern. Dornhild exclaimed, [color=yellow]"Elf, the human is bleeding badly! I wager a Tusk that he can not walk far without long rest and the cutting of a healer, or the execution of Fey talents in the realm magical."[/color] Despite his concerned tone, Dornhild's expression showed he might prefer the former than the latter. Rongald glanced to the decapitated man and his dead woman, and without a grunt or word, set to likewise decapitate her body, a grim scowl on his face. [color=yellow]"More Fell. Shadow curse them, but they are everywhere in the border regions between Fey and Orc."[/color] Dornhild meanwhile kneeled near Carith. [color=yellow]Easy, master Carith. Rest."[/color] He glanced then to Thrayn, ready to set about binding the wound should the Fey prove as unreliable as his opinion of the elder race might dictate. His feelings were written like carvings upon his face. Thrayn matched Dornhild's gaze and breathed in deeply as he did so. A cool wind whipped about him in a sudden whirl, tossing leaves up about his legs. He could feel the warm rush of arcane energies flood back into his sytem. As the bizarre wind died down in but a moment, he walked over to Carith and knelt down. What was left of the wind blew several leaves past Thrayn's face as he reached forward and traced a pattern of healing runes in the air, his hand descending to touch Carith's savaged and ruined hip. The dying wind picked up once again, suddenly, and a sharp chill ran through Elf and Man alike, accompanied by a muffled, crunching pop as Carith's femur slid back into its joint. The pain was exquisite, but lasted only moments as the torn flesh sealed under the cooling touch of Thrayn's magic. Thrayn stood and once again locked eyes with Dornhild, this time for only a moment. [color=yellow]"Let's return to the camp. Rongald, take what is of use from the bodies - let at least that part of them continue to aid the fight."[/color] Rongald nodded and set to patting down the bodies. He hooked the man's axe to his belt and went about his task as Thrayn started to walk back to thier camp. With Dornhild's aid Carith slowly stood up from the ground and, repalcing his blade in its sheath, walked slowly back to the camp. His wound was healed but the memory of the pain was all to fresh in his mind, and the chill left from the healing magics made the joint stiff for some time after. Once the small group arrived back at their camp Carith approached Thrayn as he sat next to the fire. [color=yellow]"Thank you. If not for your presence that Fell would have killed me without much trouble, and if not for your healing ability the wound to my leg would not have healed in time to be of any use to the village we travel to, if ever. I know I am all ready greatly in your debt, but I would ask one more thing of you; if you are willing to teach, I would learn the art of sorcery. As you have seen, I have the power within me well beyond most Humans, but I lack any sort of training, and with out that I fear I may prove this gift more of a curse than a blessing, out beyond these trees. I know this is a great gift I ask of you, and many who start down this path never finish, but I am not one of those. I will do whatever I can to oppose the Shadow, no matter the costs to me."[/color] Paying no heed to the conversation at hand, Rongald unceremoneously dumped what little gear the man and woman had in a pile before the fire, then retreated to the safety of the far side - away from Carith and Thrayn, discreetly giving them their privacy. In the pile gleamed a large dagger and an axe, as well as the woman's silver armband, and a leather beltpouch. The rest was unsalvageable out here, under thier circumstances. Rongald sat slowly next to Dornhild and nodded at the fire. [color=ORANGE]"You never fought the Fell before, my friend?"[/color] There was no sound of recrimination to his voice, and the other Norther merely shook his head slowly, staring into the glow of the fire. Rongald continued, [color=ORANGE]"They always unnerve me as well. Master Thrayn is not troubled by them for his own reasons, but I never walk away without fighting the urge to unleash my last meal - just raw nerves."[/color] Dornhild nodded slowly, and after too many seconds, replied softly, [color=ORANGE]"I have burned many a fallen friend and more enemies, and done more preparations than I can count,"[/color] referring to the ritual decapitation of the dead that prevented the dead from Rising. [color=ORANGE]"But never have I fought one. That... man. He was destroyed. His body, I mean. Carith and the Elf had cut that... thing... up enough to drop any three Men. And yet he kept coming, and nearly killed Carith by the looks of it. I should like it very much if I never had to witness one of the Fell again. Much more so if I never have to fight one in this lifetime."[/color] It was Rongald's turn to nod thoughtfully. [color=ORANGE]"By my Grandfather's spirit I hope you get your wish. That we all get your wish."[/color] It was some minutes of comfortable silence before Dornhild arose once more, grabbing up his spear and shield and then settling down under his cloak to try to rest. Carith and Thrayn continued to talk quietly amongst themselves, lost in a conversation of their own. Thrayn sat and stared into the fire as Carith spoke, barely nodding in recognition of his thanks. Another sorcerer and in his debt no less. Admittedly the idea was intriguing, and the human had shown abilities that even he could learn from. But there were the hours, the impatience of a mortal, and also the fact that in any circumstance the man would take the secrets to his eventual grave, being mortal after all. But that too, was a benefit of sorts. More than any other thing, the fact that he would need help to do what was needed to travel in human lands pressed his answer. He looked up at Carith and after a long silence, spoke. [color=yellow]"I will teach you. I will spare what time I have and you in return will spare yours when asked. There is work to be done and you cannot help me as you are."[/color] He stood and started to walk over toward the piled goods that Rongald had brought back. He called over his shoulder as he crossed the camp, [color=yellow]"Rest, for tomorrow we start. This camp shall be our home for a short time to come."[/color] When he reached the pile of things brought from the dead, he squatted down and sifted through the pile. The silver armband was a good fit for his own arm and he slid it on over the sleeve of his shirt and nestled it against the higher, golden band on his right arm. He tossed the axe and knife aside, the two Dornmen could put them to use. The last he took was the pouch. He opened it and leaned toward the fire to better see what lay inside. Within the pouch lay three things. A braided bit of horse hair in the form of a ring, of the type sometimes used by the Dorn to show an intention to marry - they were exchanged with one another at some family ceremony. Also within lay a small feather wrapped in twine. Although crudely done, it was probably a human charm. These were virtually mass produced by the Fey, but were relatively rare among the humans. This one bound the essence of a raptor. A talon might improve one's swordplay, but the feather would be used to gift the one who removed the string with the sight of a hawk - to see great distances with clarity, but only for a couple seconds. A minor charm at best. Finally, there lay a single Oruk tusk, probably all the wealth the couple had possessed aside from the armbands. Carith nodded as Thrayn went to work and then moved over to his blanket and lay down before the fire. [i]The training will be difficult to say the least, but in the end what I gain will be more than worth it; perhaps at last I will have enough power to truely oppose the shadow.[/i] ======================= The following days were hard ones. Long hours were spent describing the rudimentaries of moving arcane energies with thought and word. Teased hints were given and frustrated words exchanged between the two sorcerors as Thrayn pushed Carith to discover answers on his own rather than giving them away without work. The two Dornlanders watched at times, but mostly kept to the camp away from the frightening goings on being held just out of earshot in the thicker woods. Many days passed this way, even unto the end of Winter, until finally some hint that the hard-tought lessons had borne fruit came to light. Carith stood in the middle of a grove of trees. His eyes where closed and his hands were extended out before him. Slowly his hands moved back and forth, tracing cryptic patterns in the air attempting to unlock arcane energy. As his hands traced the patterns, Carith spoke, keeping his voice clear and even as he began to cast his spell, "[color=yellow]Re....go.....Her...." [/color]. "[color=yellow]No, no, no! I said "clear" - that doesn't have to mean slowly! And remember the accents. How you say each word is almost more important than the word its self. Now try it again,"[/color] called Thrayn from one end of the clearing. Carith shook his head, muttered a few curses under his breath and then extended his hands once again. Tracing the symbols he begins to speak again. [color=yellow]"Rego Herbam!"[/color] he shouted, breaking the silence of the clearing and releasing a small stream of magic energy. Opening his eyes, Carith glanced around the clearing looking for the effect of his spell, but he felt it first. The grass around his feet had reached up to grab him by the ankles, and he saw a pair of branches from the nearest arch down to wrap around his arms, holding him fast. As Carith struggled agains the poorly aimed spell, Thrayn simply nodded and said, [color=yellow]"Better," [/color]before he walked back to their small camp, leaving Carith alone in the woods. [/QUOTE]
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