The Happenings of Lucifus Cray: Update{23}07/06/06 - The Threading of the Weave
Yeow, that first post is a doozie! I wound up reading half last night and the other half this afternoon. Fortunately, it's written with such an engaging style, and Lucifus is clearly such a force of personality, that you're encouraged to return to it if you don't get through it all in one sitting.
Good stuff. I enjoyed it very much and look forward to following Lucifus and his Happenings.
"If the bears do not eat you, it is home."
Good stuff. I enjoyed it very much and look forward to following Lucifus and his Happenings.
"If the bears do not eat you, it is home."
Last edited:
Eluvan
First Post
Well... it's been some time since there've been any updates, or any posts at all in this thread, but nonetheless I want to register my appreciation. Having brought myself up to date with the compulsory Story Hour reading (Wulf, Sep, PKitty, Sagiro) and some extra stuff that immediately appealed to me (Shemeska) I was looking for some more Story Hour goodness and happened to come across this.
I have to say, it ranks with the best of all those Story Hours I've read. It's engaging, exciting, and excellently written, and I wish there was more of it. It's lamentably short so far, and it niggles me knowing there must be so much more to tell. How did the big Devil get turned into a toad? Or was that the shaman? And what did Lucifus do next? And how did it affect him? And, finally, how did the telling of all this go down at the dinner party?
Not to mention the big question of what the newly-Lucifus-endowed party then got up to.
So... I know it can be hard to find motivation (or time) to write sometimes, but you said a while back that feedback was what kept making it worthwhile. So... here's hoping that this makes another update or two worthwhile.
I have to say, it ranks with the best of all those Story Hours I've read. It's engaging, exciting, and excellently written, and I wish there was more of it. It's lamentably short so far, and it niggles me knowing there must be so much more to tell. How did the big Devil get turned into a toad? Or was that the shaman? And what did Lucifus do next? And how did it affect him? And, finally, how did the telling of all this go down at the dinner party?
Not to mention the big question of what the newly-Lucifus-endowed party then got up to.
So... I know it can be hard to find motivation (or time) to write sometimes, but you said a while back that feedback was what kept making it worthwhile. So... here's hoping that this makes another update or two worthwhile.
Herremann the Wise
First Post
Hello Everyone,
It has been quite a while since the last update. There may be some new readers too who have not yet partaken in The Happenings of Lucifus Cray so consider this a not so timely bump and update. This update may be awkward to follow without quickly refereshing the story thus far. Apologies for making this difficult.
Just a quick note too to say that this Story Hour while terminally ill is not yet dead.
I hope you enjoy.
The Threading of the Weave
Inside Karodo’s Cave, High Atop the Massive Solitary Mountain Shadowing the Pianathan Valley…
Karodo sat distant upon the ancient Lahrum in outward blank torpidity.
The violent rush of thoughts churning inside his being was held in complete abeyance by a will immense, powerful and absolute. One could almost have said he stared blankly except for his lack of orbs; replaced so vividly by demonic horns leached from his very sockets. His plans were in flux, his current motives indeterminate. The mortal foreigner was obviously coming to hunt him down, to seek the death of the Pianatha and an end to his immaculate tapestry of divination and planning. He needed to formulate an effective response.
Karodo had previously tried to reach Jengus in order to effect his immediate return but the magics needed for the act had failed and were spent; Jengus now beyond his current reach. While Karodo’s tapestry presented victory to the casual eye, defeat had somehow cheated the spindle, loosing the thread of doom he had either denied or not perceived. Failure now loomed as a spectre shadowing his ultimate and true destiny.
The cave mouth gracing Karodo’s current position formed an opening visible from all points of the Pianathan Valley beyond, high atop the ancient mountain once known as Khalesh. There were other lesser openings upon the mountainside but all were short or false caves; used as abodes by those of the clan with prestige, might or power. However, the only true entrance that led deep down into the mountain’s soul was that of Karodo’s. Many Shamans of the Clan had inhabited its dark, cold tunnels; the downward series of caves, caverns and cavities forming a labyrinthine history of evil, dark compacts and unimaginable rites. Karodo rarely ventured beyond that of the prime cavern in which he currently sat unmoving. Something however was stirring.
A dark wind blew hesitantly but with increasing determination through the cave mouth. Its gusts began to penetrate the entrance and then deeper, stirring befouled air long undisturbed in the bowels of the massive mountain. Karodo’s outer dormancy and quiescence were maintained for a further portion of time as the dry wind stole past his form. Then he acted.
Like a spring loosed into action, he set about calling the highest spirits he could control to his hand, one after the other in a dark panoply of shadow. In a frenzy unlike anything he had ever done before, he then began a set of magics to augment, enhance, reinforce and defend his cave. The spirits, drawn into accord by a mighty cacophony of magic then empowered the defences of the cavern with ruthless efficiency, each achieving some task of importance, awaiting the moment to unleash their dark power upon the slightest intruder. In a further layering of powerful magics, Karodo redoubled his efforts defending the cave to the point of impregnability. While he now bore an awareness of defeat’s skein, it would have to penetrate the terrible magics of his cave to catch him.
Karodo stood casting a critical gaze as it were across the detailed defences, making requisite adjustments here and there until satisfied. It was during these quiet moments, the thoughts of external threats momentarily forgotten that Karodo’s mind searched for the unusually quiet demon spirit that so annoyingly possessed him. He felt… nothing. And then fleeting across Karodo’s acute perceptions was a quickened almost insubstantial node of evil that could only be the demon spirit fleeing from his internal reach. Like an unsettled dot of quicksilver, it continued to evade his grasp. Quickly losing patience with the exercise, Karodo returned to the sacrificial Lahrum.
As Karodo approached the tainted granite slab with the winds increasing impact gusting past him, a thought crystallised as he sensed anew the quickly putrefying head of Ugari wedged upon the ceremonial spear. There was of course an option he could take to further his immediate chances of surviving any break or unravelling of the prophecy he had so carefully revealed and nourished. He ruminated for several moments longer before his distorted faculties reached consensus. He would bargain a consultation, seeking the aid of something that had been fearfully left alone for many years in one of the deepest, most ancient caverns.
Karodo began making suitable preparations to travel deep within the mountain structure; he collected several items of importance from the Lahrum as well as a pouch containing the dust of several diamonds. He now sought a place he had only ever been to twice before and with mixed results – one time he received an important seed of wisdom and the more recent he was totally ignored. While he sought advantage as many Pianathan Shamans in the past had done, the ancient cavern and its even more archaic occupant were unpredictable at best. With a certain level of strength, he then took the cold spear (head and all) from the ground, clutched it tightly in both hands and then proceeded to use it like some bizarre symbolic lantern of sahdow to light his even stranger journey downward, into the Black Heart of the Khalesh peak.
High upon the mountainside overlooking The Lake of Souls, Lucifus despairs at the size and quality of his current catalogue, unknowing of imminent attention …
With dusk hazing the sky in tints of fractured pink to deep mauve, and the celestials above sprinkling across the sky like some nebulous dusting of scattered diamonds, Lucifus attended his various adjuncts and devices that had been held within the two salvaged chests. He had hastily conjured a standard stone cottage from an archaic scroll, most likely penned long ago by the master of his former master. The stone dwellings construction felt austere to the point of archaic, unlike his own “Grandee’s Cottage”, which he considered far more comfortable and conducive to both erotic activity and meaningful study.
Having classified those items currently in his possession, he could not help but feel a hollowness rapidly shifting to outright despondency. His prime scroll of “Goriss’ Immaculate Death”, his Wands of Ultimate Piercing, Kryntha’s Ray of Nebulizing and Tort’s Bolt of Atomic Separation as well as many of the materials with which to assist in the calling of creatures from the lower planes were all lost. All the summoning scrolls, which he had so carefully lain out and ordered were now most likely scattered in numerous pieces, their arcane energies completely rent. In addition, the completely uncomfortable magical boots of instant transference were presumably crushed by Sarrash’s wrath where they lay. And in all of the tumult, Winter was lost in the debacle too. Devestation lined Lucifus’s terse features. It was at this point upon the cusp of a dramatic decision to return that his attention was momentarily disrupted.
Two half-orcs traipsed into the impromptu stone chalet, ignorant of Lucifus’s carefully sorted, divided, graded and systemized cataloguing of materials. Tunthi and Murga caught Lucifus in a poor mood.
“Move one more step you fools and I’ll summon a hive of wasps to eat you from the inside out"
Having captured the immediate attention of the two warriors, he then pushed them outside before floating soon after them. Lucifus had earlier suggested that they scout out the immediate vicinity for either intruders or advantage. At this stage, Lucifus did not precisely know their location; just that it would likely be within range of the Pianatha. Never would he have supposed that they were immediately adjacent to the great valley of the Pianatha and the massive mountain holding their Shaman.
Outside the cottage, it was Murga (perhaps having greater wisdom than Tunthi and Lucifus put together) who reported the most relevant fact of their proximity to the Pianathan valley and mountain. “Pianatha over hill. Many many warriors with big sticks.”
Murga’s rough voice grated in the last of the early evening light. Lucifus looked around surprised as Murga pointed the direction. Lucifus floated upwards for greater vantage seeing over the peaks of the range to the valley and mountain beyond. The many flames of light dotting the valley spoke of a large population and daunting proximity. Returning to the two barbarians, he shared his thoughts.
“I need you two to wait here and guard my…tent”, said Lucifus struggling for the appropriate translation. “I intend a short journey but I shall return before the sky completely darkens. If anyone goes near it, kill them.”
Tunthi hefted his axe with a grinning grunt of joyful understanding. Murga nodded but also asked, “Where do you go? Perhaps we should come too?”
“No. I need you both here in case there’s someone stupid enough to stumble upon our camp. Tonight, I will need you both sharp and alert.” Lucifus looked at each of them carefully before adding, “Tonight we will hunt down someone who needs to make our collective acquaintance. Tonight... the Pianathan Shaman dies.”
And with this, Lucifus spoke a word and disappeared upon the instant, traversing back to the site of his old grandee’s cottage, ridiculously hoping that Sarrash was currently entertaining himself elsewhere. And as such with a complete lack of providence Lucifus would appear at his destination. Meanwhile several minutes later outside the stone cottage, as if their fortune could not get any poorer, Tunthi and Murga were ambushed; beset upon all sides by a large force of Pianatha led by the half-giant: Jengus.
However, while this difficult episode ensued, all was not held in abeyance awaiting Lucifus’s return. Elsewhere there were several other forces at play seeking the vicinity of the Pianatha for their own motives and purpose.
Somewhere beyond Dannikin’s current perception…
Dannikin sensed his dark surroundings with hazy and distorted perception. The spirit of the witch had stolen his body from him forcing what was left of his mind into darkness. Occasionally, he would attempt to use his body’s senses but upon each occasion, the witch spirit forced him back into oblivion. All he could sense was the horror of darkness pervading his being. In an effort to extract himself, Dannikin attempted once more to use his senses and to his surprise, he was not rebuffed; the witch’s attention currently distracted elsewhere. Dannikin’s body had stopped.
The cold was absolute and bitter, as if the dark place they currently stood in had never felt the warmth of the living. While he could not see in the darkness, he felt the enclosed strictures of a natural cave or tunnel. He presumed they were deep under the earth. His body then started moving once more down the tunnel – the soft staccato sound of rapidly beaten air somewhere nearby. Behind him he could also hear the laboured breathing of something but he dared not try and command his head to turn around. He was fearful of the witch’s wrath and so he waited; closeted in the prison of his own body. The spirit witch – the new warden of his being – then sibilantly spoke.
“I feel you there. Understand I will blast your soul into tiny shards of insanity if you try to resist my will. I allow you some measure of your senses only because it taxes me to keep holding you in abeyance. Rile me and I will destroy your soul for eternity, no matter the detriment to my plans.”
And with these words spoken, she once again persisted her dominion over his body. As Dannikin attuned himself somewhat to this less restricted set of circumstances, certain elements of her thought and will seeped into his own. Malice and hatred, death and revenge spoke loudly, rippling through the live blood of his being. He then caught a momentary glimpse of the man he once knew as Isaac. A welling of pity swelled, slowly intensifying as the glow of some small creature flapping above the man provided scant illumination to the surroundings. Isaac was hunched over, completely afflicted by some manner of deviltry. His shoulder blades had been splayed and his back bent to support the hideous growth that issued from the back of his spine. The occasional accompanying groans spasmodically emphasised the horror of this awful burden.
Dannikin was allowed no respite, as he looked ahead, the darkness terrible. From the witch’s mood, he could tell that they were near their destination as the tunnel plunged deeply once more. When they had reached what seemed the bottom, she felt the witch bastardise his being once more, casting a foul magic that darkened his soul. Ahead was an opening, the soft glow of something massive beyond. He could now sense the sheer exultation of the spirit witch as his bloated, fat body moved to the boundary. Beyond was a cavern of ancient horror.
The opening they now stood in formed a cleft high above the cavern’s expanse. Below was a dark lake and lying in this lake was the strangest of structures. The cavern’s dark orange glow emanated from the colossal bulk of an obsidian skeleton almost half the size of the subterrane. The skull of the horned creature was attached to a hideous spine spawning a series of ribs the size of a small hillock. What it once had been was pure conjecture. In his mind though unbidden from the witch, Dannikin sensed a word from oldest myth. A Dragon. Here lied the bones of one of the first wyrms of the realms of Urth – one of the high ancients laid here, the subterranean cavern its final resting place and gravesite.
Dannikin could sense the awe of the witch who commanded his body; and then unexpected came an ancient voice to his mind. The bones of the creature must still have held some semblance of being as it intoned in an ancient language completely foreign but with decided menace, “The twilight of death surrounding my bones hath arrived. The witnesses hath begun to assemble; to behold the final annihilation.”
Best Regards
Herremann the Wise
It has been quite a while since the last update. There may be some new readers too who have not yet partaken in The Happenings of Lucifus Cray so consider this a not so timely bump and update. This update may be awkward to follow without quickly refereshing the story thus far. Apologies for making this difficult.
Just a quick note too to say that this Story Hour while terminally ill is not yet dead.
I hope you enjoy.
The Threading of the Weave
Inside Karodo’s Cave, High Atop the Massive Solitary Mountain Shadowing the Pianathan Valley…
Karodo sat distant upon the ancient Lahrum in outward blank torpidity.
The violent rush of thoughts churning inside his being was held in complete abeyance by a will immense, powerful and absolute. One could almost have said he stared blankly except for his lack of orbs; replaced so vividly by demonic horns leached from his very sockets. His plans were in flux, his current motives indeterminate. The mortal foreigner was obviously coming to hunt him down, to seek the death of the Pianatha and an end to his immaculate tapestry of divination and planning. He needed to formulate an effective response.
Karodo had previously tried to reach Jengus in order to effect his immediate return but the magics needed for the act had failed and were spent; Jengus now beyond his current reach. While Karodo’s tapestry presented victory to the casual eye, defeat had somehow cheated the spindle, loosing the thread of doom he had either denied or not perceived. Failure now loomed as a spectre shadowing his ultimate and true destiny.
The cave mouth gracing Karodo’s current position formed an opening visible from all points of the Pianathan Valley beyond, high atop the ancient mountain once known as Khalesh. There were other lesser openings upon the mountainside but all were short or false caves; used as abodes by those of the clan with prestige, might or power. However, the only true entrance that led deep down into the mountain’s soul was that of Karodo’s. Many Shamans of the Clan had inhabited its dark, cold tunnels; the downward series of caves, caverns and cavities forming a labyrinthine history of evil, dark compacts and unimaginable rites. Karodo rarely ventured beyond that of the prime cavern in which he currently sat unmoving. Something however was stirring.
A dark wind blew hesitantly but with increasing determination through the cave mouth. Its gusts began to penetrate the entrance and then deeper, stirring befouled air long undisturbed in the bowels of the massive mountain. Karodo’s outer dormancy and quiescence were maintained for a further portion of time as the dry wind stole past his form. Then he acted.
Like a spring loosed into action, he set about calling the highest spirits he could control to his hand, one after the other in a dark panoply of shadow. In a frenzy unlike anything he had ever done before, he then began a set of magics to augment, enhance, reinforce and defend his cave. The spirits, drawn into accord by a mighty cacophony of magic then empowered the defences of the cavern with ruthless efficiency, each achieving some task of importance, awaiting the moment to unleash their dark power upon the slightest intruder. In a further layering of powerful magics, Karodo redoubled his efforts defending the cave to the point of impregnability. While he now bore an awareness of defeat’s skein, it would have to penetrate the terrible magics of his cave to catch him.
Karodo stood casting a critical gaze as it were across the detailed defences, making requisite adjustments here and there until satisfied. It was during these quiet moments, the thoughts of external threats momentarily forgotten that Karodo’s mind searched for the unusually quiet demon spirit that so annoyingly possessed him. He felt… nothing. And then fleeting across Karodo’s acute perceptions was a quickened almost insubstantial node of evil that could only be the demon spirit fleeing from his internal reach. Like an unsettled dot of quicksilver, it continued to evade his grasp. Quickly losing patience with the exercise, Karodo returned to the sacrificial Lahrum.
As Karodo approached the tainted granite slab with the winds increasing impact gusting past him, a thought crystallised as he sensed anew the quickly putrefying head of Ugari wedged upon the ceremonial spear. There was of course an option he could take to further his immediate chances of surviving any break or unravelling of the prophecy he had so carefully revealed and nourished. He ruminated for several moments longer before his distorted faculties reached consensus. He would bargain a consultation, seeking the aid of something that had been fearfully left alone for many years in one of the deepest, most ancient caverns.
Karodo began making suitable preparations to travel deep within the mountain structure; he collected several items of importance from the Lahrum as well as a pouch containing the dust of several diamonds. He now sought a place he had only ever been to twice before and with mixed results – one time he received an important seed of wisdom and the more recent he was totally ignored. While he sought advantage as many Pianathan Shamans in the past had done, the ancient cavern and its even more archaic occupant were unpredictable at best. With a certain level of strength, he then took the cold spear (head and all) from the ground, clutched it tightly in both hands and then proceeded to use it like some bizarre symbolic lantern of sahdow to light his even stranger journey downward, into the Black Heart of the Khalesh peak.
***
High upon the mountainside overlooking The Lake of Souls, Lucifus despairs at the size and quality of his current catalogue, unknowing of imminent attention …
With dusk hazing the sky in tints of fractured pink to deep mauve, and the celestials above sprinkling across the sky like some nebulous dusting of scattered diamonds, Lucifus attended his various adjuncts and devices that had been held within the two salvaged chests. He had hastily conjured a standard stone cottage from an archaic scroll, most likely penned long ago by the master of his former master. The stone dwellings construction felt austere to the point of archaic, unlike his own “Grandee’s Cottage”, which he considered far more comfortable and conducive to both erotic activity and meaningful study.
Having classified those items currently in his possession, he could not help but feel a hollowness rapidly shifting to outright despondency. His prime scroll of “Goriss’ Immaculate Death”, his Wands of Ultimate Piercing, Kryntha’s Ray of Nebulizing and Tort’s Bolt of Atomic Separation as well as many of the materials with which to assist in the calling of creatures from the lower planes were all lost. All the summoning scrolls, which he had so carefully lain out and ordered were now most likely scattered in numerous pieces, their arcane energies completely rent. In addition, the completely uncomfortable magical boots of instant transference were presumably crushed by Sarrash’s wrath where they lay. And in all of the tumult, Winter was lost in the debacle too. Devestation lined Lucifus’s terse features. It was at this point upon the cusp of a dramatic decision to return that his attention was momentarily disrupted.
Two half-orcs traipsed into the impromptu stone chalet, ignorant of Lucifus’s carefully sorted, divided, graded and systemized cataloguing of materials. Tunthi and Murga caught Lucifus in a poor mood.
“Move one more step you fools and I’ll summon a hive of wasps to eat you from the inside out"
Having captured the immediate attention of the two warriors, he then pushed them outside before floating soon after them. Lucifus had earlier suggested that they scout out the immediate vicinity for either intruders or advantage. At this stage, Lucifus did not precisely know their location; just that it would likely be within range of the Pianatha. Never would he have supposed that they were immediately adjacent to the great valley of the Pianatha and the massive mountain holding their Shaman.
Outside the cottage, it was Murga (perhaps having greater wisdom than Tunthi and Lucifus put together) who reported the most relevant fact of their proximity to the Pianathan valley and mountain. “Pianatha over hill. Many many warriors with big sticks.”
Murga’s rough voice grated in the last of the early evening light. Lucifus looked around surprised as Murga pointed the direction. Lucifus floated upwards for greater vantage seeing over the peaks of the range to the valley and mountain beyond. The many flames of light dotting the valley spoke of a large population and daunting proximity. Returning to the two barbarians, he shared his thoughts.
“I need you two to wait here and guard my…tent”, said Lucifus struggling for the appropriate translation. “I intend a short journey but I shall return before the sky completely darkens. If anyone goes near it, kill them.”
Tunthi hefted his axe with a grinning grunt of joyful understanding. Murga nodded but also asked, “Where do you go? Perhaps we should come too?”
“No. I need you both here in case there’s someone stupid enough to stumble upon our camp. Tonight, I will need you both sharp and alert.” Lucifus looked at each of them carefully before adding, “Tonight we will hunt down someone who needs to make our collective acquaintance. Tonight... the Pianathan Shaman dies.”
And with this, Lucifus spoke a word and disappeared upon the instant, traversing back to the site of his old grandee’s cottage, ridiculously hoping that Sarrash was currently entertaining himself elsewhere. And as such with a complete lack of providence Lucifus would appear at his destination. Meanwhile several minutes later outside the stone cottage, as if their fortune could not get any poorer, Tunthi and Murga were ambushed; beset upon all sides by a large force of Pianatha led by the half-giant: Jengus.
However, while this difficult episode ensued, all was not held in abeyance awaiting Lucifus’s return. Elsewhere there were several other forces at play seeking the vicinity of the Pianatha for their own motives and purpose.
***
Somewhere beyond Dannikin’s current perception…
Dannikin sensed his dark surroundings with hazy and distorted perception. The spirit of the witch had stolen his body from him forcing what was left of his mind into darkness. Occasionally, he would attempt to use his body’s senses but upon each occasion, the witch spirit forced him back into oblivion. All he could sense was the horror of darkness pervading his being. In an effort to extract himself, Dannikin attempted once more to use his senses and to his surprise, he was not rebuffed; the witch’s attention currently distracted elsewhere. Dannikin’s body had stopped.
The cold was absolute and bitter, as if the dark place they currently stood in had never felt the warmth of the living. While he could not see in the darkness, he felt the enclosed strictures of a natural cave or tunnel. He presumed they were deep under the earth. His body then started moving once more down the tunnel – the soft staccato sound of rapidly beaten air somewhere nearby. Behind him he could also hear the laboured breathing of something but he dared not try and command his head to turn around. He was fearful of the witch’s wrath and so he waited; closeted in the prison of his own body. The spirit witch – the new warden of his being – then sibilantly spoke.
“I feel you there. Understand I will blast your soul into tiny shards of insanity if you try to resist my will. I allow you some measure of your senses only because it taxes me to keep holding you in abeyance. Rile me and I will destroy your soul for eternity, no matter the detriment to my plans.”
And with these words spoken, she once again persisted her dominion over his body. As Dannikin attuned himself somewhat to this less restricted set of circumstances, certain elements of her thought and will seeped into his own. Malice and hatred, death and revenge spoke loudly, rippling through the live blood of his being. He then caught a momentary glimpse of the man he once knew as Isaac. A welling of pity swelled, slowly intensifying as the glow of some small creature flapping above the man provided scant illumination to the surroundings. Isaac was hunched over, completely afflicted by some manner of deviltry. His shoulder blades had been splayed and his back bent to support the hideous growth that issued from the back of his spine. The occasional accompanying groans spasmodically emphasised the horror of this awful burden.
Dannikin was allowed no respite, as he looked ahead, the darkness terrible. From the witch’s mood, he could tell that they were near their destination as the tunnel plunged deeply once more. When they had reached what seemed the bottom, she felt the witch bastardise his being once more, casting a foul magic that darkened his soul. Ahead was an opening, the soft glow of something massive beyond. He could now sense the sheer exultation of the spirit witch as his bloated, fat body moved to the boundary. Beyond was a cavern of ancient horror.
The opening they now stood in formed a cleft high above the cavern’s expanse. Below was a dark lake and lying in this lake was the strangest of structures. The cavern’s dark orange glow emanated from the colossal bulk of an obsidian skeleton almost half the size of the subterrane. The skull of the horned creature was attached to a hideous spine spawning a series of ribs the size of a small hillock. What it once had been was pure conjecture. In his mind though unbidden from the witch, Dannikin sensed a word from oldest myth. A Dragon. Here lied the bones of one of the first wyrms of the realms of Urth – one of the high ancients laid here, the subterranean cavern its final resting place and gravesite.
Dannikin could sense the awe of the witch who commanded his body; and then unexpected came an ancient voice to his mind. The bones of the creature must still have held some semblance of being as it intoned in an ancient language completely foreign but with decided menace, “The twilight of death surrounding my bones hath arrived. The witnesses hath begun to assemble; to behold the final annihilation.”
***
Best Regards
Herremann the Wise
Richard Rawen
First Post
AND !?
You are really getting a penchant for the Cliffhanger device...
I wandered in at the recommendation of one of the "big guys" sig's...
I am well and truly grateful for that link, this story has been marvelous, a build up of epic proportions. Let me close by simply saying, hands cupped in supplication, "please sir, may I have some more?"
You are really getting a penchant for the Cliffhanger device...
I wandered in at the recommendation of one of the "big guys" sig's...
I am well and truly grateful for that link, this story has been marvelous, a build up of epic proportions. Let me close by simply saying, hands cupped in supplication, "please sir, may I have some more?"
Elder-Basilisk
First Post
With a backstory like this, you have to wonder: how do Lucifus' current activities not seem mundane?
