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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Wraithdrit" data-source="post: 954498" data-attributes="member: 10820">TethyamarMarpenoth 1, 1372_Early EveningMytrym strode down the one of the halls of the Fortress of Tethyamar. His mind wandered again to the battle with the dragon. It had all happened so fast. Falling in combat did not really bother him, especially not against such a massive opponent. What was bothering him was the fact that he had returned, and the group’s friend had not. He knew that it had nothing to do with him, that it was Durgaden’s soul that had a choice on returning or staying in the afterlife. Why should it bother him if Durgaden was enjoying the celestial ale that his afterlife had to offer?Still, he could not help feeling like maybe he should have been the one to have not returned. He was an outsider to the group, and now he had replaced Durgaden’s role in the group. He was not the King, but the dwarves looked him at as the most experienced warrior in Tethyamar. Already, Gregor had consulted him about several matters in the reconstruction of the city. Mytrym had seen Will taking an active roll in the city’s rebuilding plans as well. He knew the group would miss the mage’s powerful spells, but it was obvious that the mage currently had his fill of fighting. Seeing a couple of companions die will do that to even the stoutest of warriors. Mytrym stopped outside the gates and leapt up into the air. His wings lashed out and caught the air currents, flapping slowly to bring him up to the top of the cliff overlooking the vast ruins of the old city.He shook his head mournfully, remembering the city as it had been before the horde smashed it into rubble. He closed his eyes and could see the bustling little surface area. Humans and elves shared the upper levels, while the dwarves dominated the underground portions around the city. Market places flowed with activity even while dwarven workmen raised new structures ever higher into the air.So much had changed in so little time. Well, he knew time had long passed him by, but to him he had been fighting for Tethyamar only days before. Funny, even though two hundred years had passed her he was, once again fighting for Tethyamar. Although the enemy was different, this time he had no intention of fighting a defensive battle, this time they were going to take the fight to the enemy. Mytrym sat down on the edge of the cliff and looked down at his shoulder. Pulling the neck of his shirt back he examined the scar. He had healed plenty of wounds in his days, but the wounds from the arrows had scarred worse than any others he had ever received. It was a constant reminder of what had happened. As if missing two hundreds was not bad enough.  He closed his eyes, remembering the sounds, smells, and sights of that fight two hundred years prior.The dwarves had held the stairs for hours, but they knew the Aerie was going to fall. Mytrym told them to go, he would hold off the invaders long enough for the griffon riders to escape back to the city. The traps had been set higher in the Aerie, and it was just a matter of getting the city’s high mages out before the horde overran the position. The trapped stairwell had sent a huge swath of the horde into a watery grave below, but it had not taken them long to get ladders in place and begin scaling up toward his position. He toppled a few, but they soon had plenty of crossbow wielding goblins pinning him down. Quickly, he retreated into the control chamber and let them come to him. At first he slaughtered them in the doorway. When the bodies started piling up he started to make for the stairs. That was when she appeared. The heroes of Tethyamar had said her name was Tursa. Her purple cloak had fluttered back behind black wings as she rocketed up to land ahead of him. He rushed her, but she flung a bolt of some sort of dark energy into him. He stumbled back, fought of a pair of orogs, tossing one over the stair railing. Before he knew it, he was pushed back into the control room. The horde was on him now. He just hoped he could die standing. Screaming out his goddesses’ name he flung himself at the mass of orcs and goblins surging through the door. His enchanted blade cut swathes through the beasts but there were just too many of them for him to gain any ground. He was pressed back to the back wall. When his heel slid against the wall he knew it was time to die.Then Tursa, and a pair of archers, had appeared on the far side of the horde. Her voice called a halt to the fight, and the attackers fell back slightly, surrounding the weakened defender. Mytrym slumped forward a little bit, panting to catch his breath.He called to the fey’ri, “Well demoness? It’s time. End it!” She shook her head and chuckled coldly. “No, Mytrym.”The paladin blinked in surprise. How did she know his name?“Your time is not now. Your future is foreseen.” She glanced at the archers, “Do it.”Mytrym lifted his weapon and cried out, throwing himself at the horde in front of him. He never made it. The first arrow, with surprising accuracy and strength, pierced into his shoulder. It threw him back with such force that he was slammed into the wall behind him. The arrow had impaled his shoulder, pinning it to rock wall behind him.The paladin cried out in pain and tried to pull away from the wall. The second arrow bit into his sword arm, just below the elbow. He screamed in pain as the arm was also pinned to the wall. His eyes focused on the archers, and saw that both had reloaded and were drawing back to fire again. He knew his death was at hand.“For Eilistraee!” The arrows both hit him simultaneously. One pinned his shield arm back to the wall, the other ripped into his stomach. The paladin gasped in pain and waited for the end. He could not move. He tried looking around, but could only barely move his eyes. He saw a goblin dance into his vision. The little beast reached for his hand, but its head exploded before it ever touched him. Behind the falling corpse of the goblin, Tursa lowered her hand. Her spell had stopped the goblin from touching him and had gotten the rest of the horde’s attention. “Do not touch him, unless you wish to share the fate of your goblin companion.”  The horde moved from the control room quickly, only stopping to loot their dead. Then time started to speed up. Mytrym watched the bodies of those he had slain decay away in front of him. He knew a couple of hundred years had passed, but it only felt like a few hours. In some ways it had felt like an eternity. He was just thankful that whatever enchantment had held him there had also sustained him. He was cramped, thirsty, and hungry when the heroes had released him, but otherwise in fairly decent shape.Standing back up, Mytrym shook his head to clear the memories and leapt from the cliff. His wings popped out in place and he glided down to the ground. He had spent enough time wandering in memories. It was time to get ready. He and his companions left for the Aerie in the morning.</blockquote>

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