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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 3477524" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 152VISIONS OF SHADOWThe forest was a corrupt, malevolent place.  He could remember when it had been his home, a place of natural beauty and solace, and even though the memory was faint, of another time long past, it still had the power to cause his guts to twist when he perceived what it had become.The air burned his lungs even through his filter mask.  Above, the sky was a universal gray, occasionally streaked with red lines of smoke rising from the blood forges.  He stayed far away from the trees, an instinct that did not require conscious thought.  They were twisted, ugly things, their branches contorted into unnatural shapes, with cracks in the black bark that oozed a foul smelling red ooze.  The entire forest smelled of rot, and things crunched under his boots that did not bear closer examination. The fact that they had come here at all bespoke their desperation. The party moved silently, wary eyes scanning every direction for the threats that they knew all too well could materialize without warning.  The sword of the fallen paladin barely shone, now, the dull steel echoing the man’s lifeless eyes.  They were far fewer than they had been when they had fled Stronghold.  They had been fortunate, he knew; most of the defenders had died when the walls had been breached, and the undead had come pouring in.  “Wraiths!” came a warning, drawing his attention back into the now.  He lifted his wand, but the others were faster; beams of energy crackled through the air, knifing through the undead that drifted through the trees toward them.  Before he could act, all six wraiths had been destroyed.  They had power; all those he encountered did.  Anyone who had managed to survive this long had it.  Once he’d come upon a group that contained a human child, a commoner girl, barely seven years old.  Somehow, he’d thought that she was special, somehow a symbol of hope for the blasted survivors.  The band had united to protect her, to keep her safe. Like all hopes, that one had been dashed.  He’d destroyed the ghouls that tore her to pieces himself, but that gave no solace; there were always more.  How many had he destroyed?  A hundred?  A thousand?  A million?  Numbers were meaningless.  “They know we’re here, now,” the paladin growled.  “I hope that this is not a fool’s errand, elf.”He did not know if it was or not.  All he knew was that he had to see, to know if what he had feared had come to be.  He knew the devastation of hopes torn asunder, but somehow there was a small part of him that could not help hoping, despite all the pain it caused. They pressed on through the woods.  They destroyed a band of mohrgs, but the creatures did not seem to have been actively hunting them.  If they had, it would have been a thousand of the creatures, rather than a dozen.  Perhaps they would have been taken; there were places where the living were kept alive, mostly in the lands ruled over by vampire lords, or other undead who needed to feed upon the life energies of the mortal.  The forest floor rose ahead, and his heartbeat quickened.  They were here... He felt a cold anticipation clench in his chest as his companions rose to the ridge.  He had to see... had to see...“Gods...” someone breathed.  He surged up the last bit of the slope, ignoring the sharp rocks that cut at his hands and feet as he clambered up.  Aelvanmarr stretched before him.  The once-beautiful ancient trees of the elven city were gone, replaced by a mockery of replacements, a lattice of interlocking towers crafted out of bones.  The gentle stream that had brought a cool breeze through the place was still there, but its waters were red, thick with black slicks that sizzled as they hit the bare stones on the surrounding banks.  There were... things, visible on the barren stretches of blackened grass around the towers, misshapen monstrosities that moved with the jerky animation of the mindless undead.  And within the circle of towers, there stood a ring of cloaked and cowled figures.  There were twelve, just as with the ancient Conclave of the aelfinn, and they were of a size to have been his kin, brother elves, the lords of his people and masters of their magic. As one, the twelve reached up and drew back their hoods.  Bleached white skulls lifted, and malevolent red eyes stared up at the mortals on the ridge, eyes that had the power to invoke fear even this far away.  Liches, all twelve, and he knew that they commanded the full power that had once belonged to his people. A voice sounded in his mind.  Soon, all will share this fate...“Elegion, wake up!”The elf started.  He looked down at the book spread out on the edge of the low table before him; there was a faint imprint on the parchment sheet from where his head had laid against it.  He looked up to see another elf in a gray robe standing on the far side of the table, a look of concern on his face. “The visions have returned?” Elegion Aldaris, the mad elf of Rappan Athuk, nodded.  He repressed a shudder; as was often the case in the immediate aftermath of his dreams, he saw shadows of what he experienced there.  To his eyes, his friend’s skin was pale and gray, his skin sunken and sallow.  It would fade, or at least it had before, but it was unnerving even when he knew it to be unreal. “Worse than before, Sultheros,” he said.  He looked back down at the book.  The sigils and swirling script there held no meaning for him; the spells he’d been studying remained beyond him.  The worst part was that he knew that he had once understood them; the writing was in his own hand.  While the Lyceum had received most of his books, his friend had taken this one into his safekeeping once Aldaris had fled into exile, and had gladly restored it to him on his return. “Were you successful?” he asked, without looking up. The other elf stood there quietly until Aldaris looked up.  “Only partially.  Draelai has most of your former possessions in his personal custody, and I cannot access them without providing a justifiable reason.  However, I did find this, in the shielded vault at the Conclave.”He drew out an item wrapped in white cloth, and laid it on the table.  Aldaris reached out and carefully unwrapped the cover, revealing a dagger.  The weapon appeared to have been formed out of a single solid slab of mithral, and looked to be both heavier and more substantial than necessary for an effective weapon.  The blade was a triangular wedge seven inches long, and there was a gemstone set into the hilt, a bright blue star sapphire a full inch across. “I had not realized that this was yours,” Sultheros said.  “It looks to be somewhat awkward for a weapon, although the spell storing properties of the gem make it a quite useful device otherwise.”Aldaris just stared down at the dagger.  The sight of it had stirred an odd feeling inside him.  “I need this,” he whispered to himself. “It is yours, then, old friend.”The elf shook his head as if to clear it, and looked up.  “This will bring trouble upon you.”Sultheros waved a hand in dismissal.  “What was done to you was an injustice.  I do not pretend to know what is happening to you, my friend, but I know enough to understand that you are part of something important.  I will give you what aid I can, and only hope that it will be enough for you to accomplish what you need to do.”Aldaris nodded in thanks.  “I am fortunate to have you as a friend.”“When do you intend to leave?”Aldaris covered the dagger again with the cloth, and slid it over into his lap.  “In a day or two.  There is still something that I need to do.”  His hands brushed over the words on the page, their meaning just beyond his comprehension.</blockquote>

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