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Writings with a Twist
This is a compilation of a ongoing chain story being created in the Bad Boys of Computer Science forums. The thread can be found here. Anyway, So far the contributors have been PackraT80, The Lazarus, KellysCappuccino and Log from Blammo (in order of first contribution). Happy reading! As was his custom, Rizer left his small cottage around midnight, to walk through the forest that surrounded it. With him as usual was Rhone, a gray wolf that had found Rizer one night while walking, and had followed him faithfully ever since. The day had been like any other. Rizer had been working on a new sword design. He was hoping it would turn out like he had planned. This evening was cloudless, and the moon was shining very brightly. He had walked this path so often he needed only glance about once in a while to know where he was going. While walking Rizer was deep in thought about what little tweaks needed to be made to the design for it to work. Several moments had passed before he realized that Rhone was whimpering while walking. Rizer came back to his senses, and hearing a small rustle of leaves several yards off, he realized that they had an unexpected guest in the forest. Being cautious, he let his hand move to the hilt of his sword, not knowing if their guest was friendly or not. There was another small rustle of leaves a little farther away. Rhone let out a low growl before going quiet. The two moved on quietly, trying to locate the unknown visitor. But before they could find anything, their guest left. Still being cautious, Rizer decided they had better get back to the cottage... Once Rizer had returned to his cottage, he felt a small chill wash over him as he closed the door. Rhone gave a low growl, his hair raised on end. Something was wrong, very wrong. He looked around, but nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Even so, he drew out his sword, the ringing sound echoing as the blade cleared its sheath. He walked cautiously towards the hallway, when the light from fireplace suddenly flickered, and something fell upon him.. It shimmered out of nowhere. The thing had on black chain mail that oddly didn't make any sound when it moved. Rizer lifted his sword to block the attack. The ring of their swords meeting filled the air with electricity. This other being was very fast. It's attacks came one after the other, giving Rizer no time to take the offensive. Rhone was pacing in the background hoping for a moment he could join the melee. Suddenly another form appeared, this one wielding a club. Rizer was so taken by surprise he was unable to block the blow aimed at his midsection. Rizer crumbled to the ground as the pain racked his body. Rhone saw an opportunity, and struck at the first figure while it was watching Rizer. The second figure hit Rizer across the head to knock him out. The last thing Rizer heard was Rhone's yelp as he was cut down by the first figure... Rizer dreamed. He saw flashes of blood, light glinting from a blade, sinister eyes boring into his soul. Sounds echoed around him, voices, cries, screams. A particularly sharp pain jabbed his calf, and he realized he wasn't dreaming. Not the sounds at least. Eyes blinked open slowly, taking in his surroundings. It was a dungeon, that much he was certain. The rank smell of sweat, blood, and excretions nearly put him out again. There were others here, prisoners like himself, but they had been there longer. Some were almost skeletons, gaunt, skinny with no flesh. He tried to move and found his hands and feet had been shackled. He also found the source of the pain, as a rather sizeable rat had taken a liking to him and begun chewing on him. "That will be all, if I shalt need thee I wilt call upon thee again. Here is thy pay; relieve thyself of thy duties! Thy shalt not worry longer about this assignment." Setwick rose from his kneeled position "Yes, m'lady." and backed slowly out of the room with his head bowed, careful not to rise higher than the woman on the throne. As the doors closed in front of him, Setwick breathed a sigh of relief and straightened up. Turning around and making his way out of the keep, he wondered what Lady Dana wanted with the blacksmith Rizer. Surely one of her stature could hire him, if not someone of a higher caliber, to do anything she wanted. So why then did she want him to be delivered, bound and imprisoned? As Setwick walked towards the keep's gate, a young form dove at his waist, grabbing him and holding him tightly. A childish giggle brought Setwick back to his senses. "Oh, hello, Lydia! What are you doing out of bed?" he said pleasantly, brushing the stray golden strands of hair away from the young girl's face and sparkling blue eyes. "Heehee, I gotcha this time, didn't I? Heeheee!" Lydia seemed very amused by the capture of her older brother. "Now now, Lydia, you know you shouldn't be running around the keep this late at night, where's Nanna? Don't tell me you tied up the poor Nanna up again! Come on, I'll take you back to your room, you don't want Lady Dana getting mad now, do you?" Setwick gently removes Lydia's little hands from his waist and picks her up in his strong arms. "Come on, off to bed!" as Lydia giggles louder and louder. "Why do you always have to go out so late at night, brother? Why can't you stay with me in the keep?" asks Lydia in an almost-pouting voice. "Now, now, you know that I have to do as Lady Dana tells me to, father told me so before he left us. You should remember that father told you to listen to Nanna too!" Setwick grins at Lydia and opens the door to her room. "Shh! Be very quiet! I snuck out when Nanna fell asleep, don't wake her up, Setty, I don't want her getting all upside again, like she did when I spilled that soup!" Lydia whispered as Setwick let her down. The little girl runs off in a tip-toe fashion to her bed and slides in silently. Setwick goes over and tucks his little sister in. "Good night, Lydia..." Setwick whispers back, as he bends over to kiss his younger sister softly on the forehead. Closing the door silently behind him, Setwick thinks back to the day his father left on the journey he never returned from. "I wonder where he is..." Setwick wondered aloud as he set off to his own quarters. Groaning quietly, Rizer shook his head slowly. He'd managed to chase the rat away, but the pain was still there. In truth, he felt pain everywhere. Shifting slightly in his restraints, he found there was some slack in the chains, albeit too little. Hearing the jangle of keys and the door being unlocked, Rizer quickly feigned unconsciousness. Two burly guards strode in, kicking those unfortunate prisoners caught in their path. "Look at this worthless piece of meat. I wonder what the Lady wishes with him." Lady! That word gave him everything he needed to know about why he was here. But it had been so long, why act now? "Who cares? Orders are orders, we're to deliver him to the Inquisitor and let him do his work." Rizer tensed slightly, muscles clenching almost imperceptibly. He had to get out of here. The guards neared his prone form to unlock his chains from the wall, though his hands and feet were left shackled. "Careful, I'm told this one is dangerous." "How dangerous can he be? Look at him." One guard moved behind him, lifting him up by his shoulders. The other walked to stand before Rizer, reaching down to grab his feet. Rizer suddenly swung his legs up, a loud crack sounding as his feet connected with the guard's jaw. As the first guard fell, Rizer then threw his head back and up before the other guard could react, catching him right in his throat. Choking, the guard dropped Rizer, who quickly spun about to sweep his legs against the guard's, toppling him. He finished him off with by smashing his shackles against the guard's face. Rizer grabbed the keys from the floor amidst the cries of the other prisoners, and freed himself. He tossed the keys to the poor wretches and massaged his sore wrists as he caught his breath. He made his way to the door, and peered out down the hallway cautiously. Rizer made his way quickly out of the keep. He knew his way around; being a former storm rider for Lord Valinor, the keep was familiar territory. Dodging nimbly from shadow to shadow, Rizer made sure he wasn't spotted by anyone. Nearing the half-lowered porticullis, a sharp pain suddenly stabbed Rizer in the side. Rizer doubled over and groaned. Realizing that he could be spotted, Rizer backed into a shadowy corner and clutched his side. "Come on! There's only a few more steps to go..." Rizer muttered to himself as he slowly turned the corner, still holding his bleeding wound tightly. "Oof! Hey!" said a suprised figure, as Rizer unwittingly bumped into him. Looking up Rizer saw the young warrior that brought him here, still dressed in the same dark armor. Instinctively, Rizer took a defensive stance, but the pain in his side was too much for the old storm rider to bear. Rizer fell towards the floor, barely catching himself on one knee and an outstretched hand. Setwick regained his bearings as he saw Rizer go on the defensive. Setwick drew his sword at a lightning fast speed, but held back as he saw Rizer's debilitated condition. The young warrior looked at Rizer, and held out his hand. "Here, you need help." Rizer, still in extreme pain, did not know what to do. So he accepted the mysterious knight's offer and with some effort, got up. The young knight pressed a cordial into Rizer's hands. "Here, drink this, thy strength will return once imbibed." "Thank thee, honorable one. I shall repay thy kindness some day." With a quick bow, Rizer slipped into the shadows of the night, heading north towards the thick forest. Setwick didn't know why, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Sheathing his sword, he walked slowly back to his room, pondering the latest happenings. Rizer was still dazed from the slight concussion he had received... when? He couldn't remember whether it was the dark warrior or after. It didn't matter, once he found what he was looking for, he wouldn't need to worry. He stumbled through some brush, snapping branches in his wake. It couldn't be helped. If he were at his full strength, not even the owls would notice his passage. He was getting close. He saw the secret signs and the subtle telltales all around. It should be... yes! there! He fell to his knees, reaching around under a large, flat stone, marked by a nigh-invisible glyph. He pulled the treasure from its cradle, holding it up to the moonlight. And it began to glow. Blood pulsed in his ears and cool air filled his lungs, and he listened intently for his companion-mount. His ears strained, his mind reached, and suddenly, he knew. He would have to move quickly; only the transformation could save Rhone now. At first Rizer moved slowly, his wound was bothering him too much to ignore. But after several minutes the drink he was given by the young warrior seemed to start working. His wound had closed and his strength was coming back. He hurried along faster now, knowing that every second counted. Even in the darkness of the forest he knew his way. Before long, Rizer found his cottage again, slowing down since he didn’t know what to expect to see... Lady Dana awoke early the next morning, as her sleep had been troubled by dark dreams. Soon after she had awoken, a servant brought in some tea. As Lady Dana was sitting in her chair sipping her tea, a guard respectfully entered. The guard bowed nervously as he started to speak. "I... I apologize for disturbing you m’lady, but the Blacksmith Rizer escaped last night." The guard stepped back once, still bowing. A stony look came upon her face as the news sunk in. "How did he escape pray tell?" "As two guards were trying to move him, he overpowered them and used the keys to unlock himself. He also seemed to have given the keys to the other prisoners in the cell. They were quickly found and recaptured." The guard explained this with a bit of uneasiness in his voice. "He managed to find his way out of the castle and into the surrounding forest." Lady Dana had a hint of steel in her voice. "first find those two guards that let him escape and throw them into the dungeon. I will decide their punishment later. then, organize search parties and FIND THAT BLACKSMITH!!!" The guard cowered before her, but managed the words, "Yes m’lady." Before making a hasty retreat out of the room... Setwick was relieved to be back in his room. He slowly removed his armor and sword, still thinking about the day’s transpirings. His thoughts wandered to Lady Dana. She wasn’t much older than he. Their ages were only separated by five or six years. For as long as she has ruled, she has been a stern ruler. But recently she had taken on a new advisor. This advisor was an elderly lady that Lady Dana seemed to trust explicitly. For some reason though, Setwick did not share in that trust. As he climbed into his bed, Setwick tried to forget all that had happened, and just try to rest. But his dreams were troubled... Setwick was standing in a moonlit clearing, in his armor, with sword drawn. Dark shapes flitted past his vision. As he turned, faster and faster, trying to keep them in sight, they coalesced into one. A warrior, riding a wolf of colossal stature, and wearing an amulet that glowed like the moon itself, confronted him. "You. It was you that dragged me into her dungeons. It was you that helped me escape. These are not the actions of a man in harmony with his world." "You're... you're the blacksmith, Rizer? But... No, this is only a dream." "A dream sending. I need to know why." "The lady didn't say. But how can a blacksmith do a... a storm rider! I thought they were all dead." "Hmmm... Dana. But who told her?" The figure dissolved back into shadows, and Setwick startled awake, sweating, a wolf's howl still echoing in his ears. The cottage seemed untouched, and no evidence of a struggle could be seen. Even the door was closed, and Rizer pushed it open carefully as he entered. A quick look around and he found Rhone muzzled and leashed to the fireplace. Rizer quickly kneeled down, checking the unconscious wolf's condition even as he removed the restraints. The breathing was uneven, though the wound looked clean and the blood had clotted. Grabbing a flask from a shelf, he laid a hand on the wound and carefully poured a thick liquid into the cut. A few words were spoken and the liquid sparkled slightly, darkening and melding with flesh. Rhone gave a low whine, eyes blinking open to regard Rizer. Rizer quickly glanced around after healing his friend. Something was amiss here... but he couldn't figure out what. It was as if nothing was wrong. Then it hit Rizer. NOTHING was wrong. Nothing was disturbed. In the fight with the mysterious knight, he was certain that he broke a chair and spilled blood on to the floor. Obviously, Lady Dana's men would not have cleaned up the place for him; for there would be no point. Even if they had to muzzle Rhone, they would not have healed them or taken the time to clean the blood from the wooden floor, or even mend the chair. Rizer looked around some more, taking very small steps and examining the objects laying around. No, it couldn't be. But it is. Rizer felt certain of it. Someone actually CLEANED the small cottage for him. Everything was neat and tidy, and not a speck of dust was to be found, not even on the mantle about the fireplace, which was lit. It was LIT. But why? Who did it? Why would they light the fireplace, and clean the house? What motivations did they have? Did they expect him to return? Rizer was so absorbed in thought that he did not hear the cottage door open. A young maiden walked through the doorway, her head bowed, a small wicker basket in her left arm and the door in her right. Closing the door, she looked towards Rhone, but stood there shocked to find Rhone out of his muzzle. Rhone stared back at her, emitting a low growl. Snapping her head up, she saw Rizer, just as he spinned around to see her. Rizer looked confused, but was more stunned than anything. The young maiden uttered "H..He.. Hello... I.. I.. My name is Riena, Riena Faire. Are you the owner of this cottage?" with a small elegant curtsey. Riena was quite a pretty girl, and definitely didn't seem to have seen more than 16 winters. Her auburn locks of hair were braided in the traditional manner of the Fenwood village girls, meaning that she was from the village to the East. Rizer furrowed his brow a bit and answered "Yes, that I am, the owner of this small cottage. My name is Trenton, but I am known as Rizer the blacksmith." as Rizer returns the curtsey with a slight bow of his own. "May I ask what you are doing in here? I see you've cleaned up the place far better than it ever has been. My greatest thanks for that." he asks as he takes the Riena's hand and kisses it. "Oh! I was passing by the cottage on my way to the keep of Astoria when I heard a whimper coming from your cottage. I found the lovely beast inside and tried to tend to his wounds. He didn't seem to like me much, but he was seriously wounded and I had to care for his wounds, so I had to muzzle him. Mother taught me how to make a few healing salves, so I made a salve and applied it to his wounds. "It was already dark by the time I finished tending to the wounds, so I decided to stay here for the night and cleaned up the cottage. I was just out picking some more herbs and grasses to make another salve for the wolf. I hope you don't mind." Riena smiled sheepishly as she explained. "Don't fret, m'lady, you can stay here for as long as you wish. The keep gates are lowered this late into the night, so you are better off starting fresh and early tomorrow morning. What business do you have at the keep, may I ask?" asked Rizer as he rubbed Rhone on the neck. Rhone whimpered a little more. "By the way, his name is Rhone." At the mention of name, Rhone looked up at Rizer and licked him outstretched hand. "Oh, that's a very pretty name. Can I pet him?" asked Riena. "Sure," Rizer replied, "but make sure you don't scratch here, because he had a nasty wound that never healed well there." as he pointed out a spot behind Rhone's left front thigh. Riena strokes Rhone's head gently, and Rhone starts licking Riena's hand. "Oh, about my business at the keep, I was sent by mother to collect our ration of grain for this moon. My father is a royal guard and the Lady provides for us." Rhone closed his eyes. "Well then, I'm sure it has been a busy day for you, and tomorrow shall be busier; take my bed, and I shall sleep on my sleeping roll tonight. Good e've, m'lady." Rizer said as he unpacked a sleeping roll from a closet somewhere. "Don't worry, I shall defend you against any invaders." Rizer bows. "But I can't! You are too hospitable; I would have been sleeping under the stars tonight if I did not find this cottage. I insist I be the one sleeping on the floor!" Riena complained as Rizer gently ushered her into his bedroom. "Rhone will stand guard with me, please, take the bed." Rizer said as he closed the door before Riena could get a word in. Rizer knew that if there was trouble, he did not want the girl involved. So he quickly packed whatever essentials he could get, and set them on the table before heading off to sleep next to Rhone, who was already sleeping. "Ah, its been a long time since I used this sleeping roll. It shall be seeing much action in the days to come." Rizer mumbled to himself as he nodded off to sleep, sword beside him. Rizer awakened to himself being dragged across the floor by his shirt. In a reflexive spasm, he very nearly took off Rhone's head with his sword. The wolf released him and flinched away. A sick, sweet scent perfumed his home, and his perception of the interior seemed overlaid by something else. The chair had been broken, and there was still blood on the floor. Satisfied that the blacksmith was back to his senses, at least partially, Rhone reared onto the table, grabbed the supplies Rizer had bundled up there, and went to stand by the door. Catching himself before speaking aloud, Rizer instead lifted the talisman to his forehead. "What's wrong?" "Bitch-pup human not pup. Dead. Hurry." Rhone pawed at the door, whining silently in Rizer's thoughts. Dropping the talisman back to his chest, Rizer fled the cottage, back into the woods, still waiting for the pieces to fall together in his mind. Setwick awoke the next morning, fatigued from not having had much sleep the previous night. The same dream kept nagging at him for much of the night, and the eerie wolf howl somewhat scared him; it just wasn't a natural howl. He sat up in bed and reached for his sword which was propped to the side, in reach for emergencies. Staring at the gleaming blade, he pondered on the happenings of the previous night. It seemed normal enough; a simple task of subdueing the blacksmith and bringing him to the keep. "I shouldn't be worrying about this... but somehow..." Setwick mumbled under his breath. A knock on the door snapped him out of thought. "Sir Setwick, Lady Dana is asking for you." said a voice behind the door. "Are you up, Sir Setwick?" "Yes, I'll be right there." replied Setwick, as he hastily donned some court-suitable clothing and made his way to the throne room. Lydia suddenly wakes up with a short cry, startling and inevitably waking Nanna up as well. "Lydia, go to sleep! Little girls shouldn't be up so late!" said Nanna, frustrated that her slumber got broken yet again by the overenergetic little girl. "Yes, Nanna... but can you check under my bed? I thought I heard something go bump again..." said Lydia, still a bit frightened by her dream. "Go to sleep Lydia, there's nothing under your bed." replied Nanna, as she got up to check Lydia's bed superfically, just to settle the young girl's heart. Setwick entered the main hall with caution, noting the cloudy look upon the Lady’s face. She was talking to her advisor as Setwick bowed before them. The Lady quickly righted herself on her throne. "Good morn’ to you Sir Setwick, I have grievous news. The prisoner Rizer escaped last night. I have need of you to find him again. There have been search parties sent out on the orders to seek out and watch him, until you are able to arrive and bring him back." Setwick feigned a look of surprise, not wanting the Lady to suspect that he knew more than she thought. He knew he must find out why Lady Dana wanted this Blacksmith, this Storm Rider, so badly. "M’Lady, may I ask why do you want this man captured?" Lady Dana’s advisor was quick to respond. "That my good knight is none of your concern." He was somewhat surprised as the Lady’s advisor had never spoken directly to him before. Setwick was quickly dismissed from the hall. He was to make hast to the east and find the main camp for the search parties. The candle flared, then burned with a green flame. Its thick grey smoke coiled up into the air, but rather than dissipating, it gathered into a tight mass. Hereth jumped up and snapped the bolt home on the door, lest Dana discover his true loyalties. Coal black eyes opened in the smoky mass, and Riena's voice, filtered through years in a dusty crypt, issued forth from a dark, mouthlike opening just beneath: "He has escaped again. You must redouble your efforts in the castle." "Yes, Mistress. I shall dispatch Sir Setw-" "No. His heart lacks the steel. Use the Grelch." "Grelch? But he's defective. I had him dungeoned for good reason--namely the fact that he kills people without consulting his betters." "Give him this to provide the means and the motivation. The rider cannot be permitted to realize the game we play before his piece is captured." The ball of smoke flexed, tightened, and clattered to the tabletop. Normal yellow candlelight glinted from the shiny black surface of a polished stone hand. Hereth pulled a fine copper cable from his pocket and threaded it through the hole formed by thumb and fingers. A grim smile crossed his lips as he hurried off to the lower levels, eager to see its sinister effects. The path leading to Grelch's cell was dark and musty. This was done on purpose, as the captives of the "eternal dungeon" were considered to be menaces of the darkest and evilest kind. Elsewhere, these monsters would have been slain, but the kingdom of Astoria didn't believe that capital punishment was the answer; they felt that being locked up in a dungeon with no light at all was worse. Some might agree with this form of punishment, but one must remember that the kind of people who are put in this dungeon were monsters to begin with and question the effectiveness. It was a defensive measure too. No guards were allowed down in the depths of the dungeon, in fear that the captives might find a way to disable one and use the tools found on him to escape. The one defense the dungeon had was light. The captives were so accustomed to the darkness that when exposed to the bright light the passageways on the level above it had, they would be momentarily stunned and the guards there would have an advantage. Of course, the captives learned how to navigate and sense things without sight, so if someone really wanted to escape, they could just gouge their eyes out. Gory, but the captives would be fully capable of doing such a thing. There are, of course, other defenses and safeguards including chains and magical wards. Hereth casts his infravision spell before delving into the "eternal dungeon". Clutching the black obsidian amulet in his hands, Hereth can already feel the power of it seeping into his veins. Hereth cracks a knowing smile and procceeded futher into the darkness, carefully reading off the cell numbers. Several prisoners scream, howl and bang loudly as they realize that someone is walking down the corridors. Others just remain quiet and try to figure out who would "intrude" in their prison. Hereth heads towards the last cell, the cell where the one known as "Grelch the Hellhound" is held in the highest security. As Hereth nears the end of the corridor, a low booming voice snarls "What do you want with me, Hereth? I can smell the stench of cowardice reeking from your sickly form." Somewhat suprised at Grelch's recognition of him, Hereth peers into the cell window at the recognizably disfigured form of Grelch. "I need you to do something, you manical menace to all things lawful. A job, so to speak." "Ah, the cowardly fool wishes me to do something for him. What makes you think I won't just eat your shriveled, blackened heart after I maul your pathetic body? Your sniveling face would make a fine addition to my collection. Would you care to see the others?" Grelch snarls, finishing with a slight laugh. "Perhaps this might entice you." Hereth holds the hand-shaped amulet up to the window. Its form is clearly visible even in the lack of any light. It seems to be even *darker* in the darkness, as if it absorbed light and even the lesser darkness both. "The Hand of Darkness! Where did you get it, you cowardly bastard! You do not know if its true powers, or else you wouldn't be here begging me to help you!" Grelch snarled in a suprised tone. After a few seconds of thinking, Grelch snarls in a untypically calm voice "Is that my reward? What is it you want me to do?" Hereth, fully suprised at the calmness that Grelch is exhibiting, stutters a little and says "B..Bring in the Blacksmith Rizer, alive. We need him functional but not necessarily unharmed. You also have to make sure he stays until we have finished with him. Then you will receive your coveted prize." "You mean Rizer, the fabled Blacksmith of the Storm Riders, eh?" Grelch gives off a short laugh "You are a greater fool than I thought, you pathetic coward! Do you really think you can revive Dragon King by yourself? What good would it do for a coward like YOU anyway? Ah, but your cowardly behavior wouldn't allow you to do such a thing. Someone else must be behind this!" Grelch thinks aloud, "Very well, I shall do this on two conditions; one, I get the Hand of Darkness, and two, I am exempt from whatever evil plans you have in store after the revival, free to do whatever I wish. Discuss it with your master, you dog!" Slightly enraged at the last comment, Hereth angrily yells "Fine! I promise you that you are exempt from whatever plans I have in store, AND you will get the hand! I will have someone release you tomorrow, you manical scumbag!" with an emphasis on the word "I". Pocketing the Hand, Hereth makes his way out of the dungeon. Before exiting, he spits in disgust at the floor and wipes his hands on a handkerchief, as if he was trying to get an imaginary stain off of his hands. "Grelch has risen to the bait, mistress." "Excellent. Bring in the sacrifice." Hereth yanked a thick chain, pulling an unfortunate drunk from the lesser dungeons off his feet. Already senseless from booze and beatings, the prisoner was fortunate not to feel what was to happen next. As Riena chanted softly, his features melted down, then bubbled back, taking on the likeness of the henchman Hereth. "Give him the replica and send him to release the Grelch. Hopefully the beast will not require further manipulation." The candles winked out, and Hereth slipped the cable of his amulet around the simulacrum's neck. The double leaped to life. "Go to the Grelch. Unlock his cell with this key. Show off the amulet. If he does not kill you immediately, provoke him into doing so." Hereth spoke again, this time directly to the amulet: "Grelch, find Rizer and bring him to the Cave of Stinking Puddles. Fall paralyzed and wait there until my mistress comes to you." The clone plodded off to his death. Grelch looked up in excitement as the clone opened the door. Grelch rustled his chains and yelled out "Quickly, you dog, before I decide to eat you alive!" as he 'saw' Hereth's familiar face. Hereth's clone give Grelch a sneer and spits in Grelch's face at the comment. "I will do as I please, you filthy demon!" Before the clone could do anything else, his head flew across the room, being hit by Grelch's immensely powerful swipe from his left arm. "Ha ha! You fool! I shall see you in the depths of hell! Good riddance!" Grelch laughs at his victory and quickly rummages the corpse for a key to unlock his manacles. With inhuman speed, Grelch frees himself from the chains and proceeds to search the clone's body for the Hand. Suddenly, he stops. Sniffing the air, Grelch realizes that the stench of cowardice wasn't present; only that of a drunkard. The Hereth he had just killed was a simulcrum, probably a trap laid by the real coward and his master. "Interesting..." snarls Grelch as he backs away from the body, realizing that the "Hand" that he almost took wasn't absorbing light as it should, but rather giving *off* an evil dark purple aura. "My my, your master is quite clever, you dog! I'm impressed!" Grelch muses with a slight grin as he slips into the light above... Rizer ran alongside Rhone through the woods, his mind focused more on trying to connect the recent events than on seing where Rhone was leading him. A low moan quickly brought him back to the present and then something suddenly pulled as his ankle. He fell forward, but managed to tuck himself into a roll to spring back to his feet. Rhone stopped and growled, circling as a gray hands clawed from the ground. Shapes raised themselves beneath the dirt, groaning in hunger, clutching and grasping. Empty sockets stared blankly as nearly a dozen zombies emerged, surrounding Rizer and Rhone. His blade slid out swiftly, decapitating the nearest corpse. He spun about, and the arm of another fell to the ground. The sword sang as it sliced through decaying flesh, arcing about to imbed itself into an undead's skull. Rhone sprang atop one, growling as he bit deep, tearing a bone out and severing the body's spine. Rizer kept a small circle around him, his blade slicing any grasping hands from their arms if they reached too far in. He danced about, sword flashing as it traced graceful curves in the air, decimating the undead. He spun, the tip of his blade darting about to cut flesh and bone. In under two minutes, decayed body parts littered the ground. A twirl of his blade, and Rizer looked around warily for more while Rhone stalked behind to cover his back. It had been too easy, and experience told him this was merely the opening gambit. Not a second later, he was proved right. A loud roar preceded the explosion of a tree beside him. Rizer dove away to avoid the splinters, spotting a massive arm the size of a oak trunk in place of the tree. The arm drew back, and the beast stomped into view slowly, its eyes burning red. The golem charged forward, withering the foliage left in its wake. The rotting beast swiped at Rizer with its overly-long, misshapen arms. Rhone dashed in to hamstring the beast. Struck with a sudden realization, Rizer sent, "Rhone, no! Don't touch it!" And not a moment too soon, as the wolf veered off an instant before the construct whipped around and smashed the ground where Rhone would have been, leaving a steaming, rotting hole. Rizer's warrior mind leapt into high gear, keeping his body out of reach while his sorcerer mind worked out how to destroy the thing without touching it. He thought back to all the tricks and spells that he once practiced in service to the duchy. After many minutes of ducking and dodging, he had the answer. As the fleshrot golem swiped at his head yet again, Rizer rolled, grabbing at the earth, and brought up a few acorns. With the moments he had left before the giant re-engaged, he squeezed and threw the seeds at the monster. The spell apparently had no effect; the acorns rotted to dust on contact. Rizer prepared to flee, when suddenly the beast slowed. Green buds sprouted on its arms and head, rotting instantly. But they kept sprouting, and soon insects and mushrooms began cropping up as well. The surface of the golem was literally swarming with activity, like a forest speeded up ten-thousandfold. The thing was immobilized. The more it rotted, the more there was to grow. The blacksmith knew that life would win, because it always does. There was only one place Rizer could go now, in light of recent events. They set off for Ballagh's Cairn. Riena's lips formed a grimace, which could be considered a smile were she alive. Such as it was however, it merely served to make her features even more grotesque. A thin finger dragged over the dark waters idly, having watched the entire fight through the golem's eyes. Rizer was going to the Cairn, as expected. He certainly was predictable, and she could hardly wait to see his reaction to what was left of Ballagh and his sacred haven. Another grin and she directed a few more...obstacles to bar the way. It wouldn't do to make the trip too easy for the Storm Rider... Setwick rode into the main camp dressed in his jet black armor and his black stallion in dark plate barding. He liked black; that's why he chose the path of a Shadow Knight instead of the path of an Angelsword Master like his father. Setwick mentally shrugged. He never liked all the glory and exposure related to being an Angelsword Master anyway; he much preferred the dark behind-the-scenes work of the Shadow Knight, even though there were times it challenged his moral integrity and honor. As Setwick rode through the camp towards the Inquisitor's tent, many foot soldiers and knights whispered among themselves. "There goes Sir Setwick! He's among the best that Lady Dana has at her command! Surely someone of his importance isn't needed *here*?!" "I heard that his father, the Angelsword Master Sir Magnus Tiere achieved the rank of Sentina before he mysteriously vanished on a mission! Their lineage must be rich with the sacred divinus poeir blood!" whispered another. Of course, Setwick could hear all these comments, but he rode on, choosing not to pay attention to them. Besides, he was getting used to them; he didn't like that people were talking about him, but he realized early on that there wasn't much he could do about it. Reaching the Inquisitor's tent, Setwick dismounted and tied his reins to a hitching post outside. "Stay, Nhore, this shouldn't take long." as he patted his horse and went on into the tent. "Ah Sir Setwick, we have been expecting you. Come quickly, we are just discussing our strategy." a figure robed in green and red welcomes Setwick. Setwick bows and quickly scans the room before walking up to the table. There were 5 others in the room; two of which are guards standing vigil at the entrance. Lady Dana's best tactician, Horace, stands next to the green-and-red robed Inquisitor in his shining silver and gold armor his large zweihander resting on the floor, balanced by his left hand. On the other side of the Inquisitor is someone who Setwick has never seen before. He is wearing a hooded robe of a night blue that is normally identified with the highest ranking mages of the Mages of Seloria, an institution far to the east of Astoria. Setwick slightly raised his eyebrows in interest for an instant before taking his place next to Lionel, an Angelus Merces of the Angelsword Masters and Setwick's childhood friend. Lionel turns to nod at Setwick, who returns the nod before assuming his position at the table. "Now that we are all here, let us examine our mission, which is to capture the Blacksmith Rizer and return him to Lady Dana at Astoria, alive. We are only a day away from Astoria, but we may have to move camp to another location if we take too long in finding the Blacksmith. This will only give him more time to recover and plan an escape once we capture him, so finding and capturing him soon is of the utmost importance." says the Inquisitor, making eye contact with each and every person at the table. "We have determined that he is heading in an eastward direction towards Ballagh's Cairn. We do not know why he would do such a thing; since Ballagh's Cairn is a moderately sized mining town located on the mountainous slopes of Truenia Peak. Presumably, he will head towards Oclern's Pass and head towards the kingdom of Bellandia, where Lady Dana has less influence. We originally thought that he would head towards Hidel's Cliff and head towards the merchant town of Velor, where we would not be able to persecute him." says Horace in his gruff voice while outlining the paths and cities as he spoke. "Judging from his path and speed, I'd say that we have 3 days before he reaches Ballagh's Cairn, and we probably want to capture him before then." adds the mysterious robed mage, in a female voice. Lionel, Horace and Setwick are suprised, but regain their composure before their shock were visible. "Now that we have that settled, Sir Setwick, you are in charge of capturing Rizer, since you were the one who captured him last time. Sir Lionel, you will be in charge of moving the troops of this camp. You will provide any assistance that Sir Setwick needs and will be in charge of escorting the prisoner back once we have him in our custody. Is there anything else anyone would like to add? No? Good. I have some work to do, so you will have to excuse me," says the Inquisitor as he concludes the meeting and ushers the group out of his tent. Outside, Lionel looks at Horace and Setwick and bows, "it is an honor to work with you two again. Please, if I can be of any assistance, ask one of my attendants at the camp and we will do our best here to assist you." Setwick lightly punches Lionel in the arm, "I have something to ask of you, an attendance at your tent. We haven't seen each other in a while, Lionel, there is much catching up to do." Setwick says with a wry grin. "Of course, Setwick. It is good seeing an old friend. Sir Horace, would you care to join us in our little festivities?" asks Lionel after returning the light punch. "Nay, I'll be resting in my tent. I don't think I can keep up with you young ones." jests Horace as he walks off to his tent. "Come then, Setwick, a night of drinking awaits us." Lionel says as both knights mount their horses and head off towards Lionel's tent. Horace glanced over his shoulder, making sure he was alone as he made his way to his tent. "No one is to be let in." He ordered his guards before slipping within. He moved to the dresser and there slipped to his knees. A candle was drawn out from a hidden compartment beneath a drawer and set atop the dresser. Horace lit a match and the candle flared with a green flame. The smoke coiled up into the air, gathering into a grey mass. Horace glanced around before whispering to the dark eyes within the smoke. "All goes according to plan Mistress. The pieces are in place and we will soon have the key." "Good. Remember what your task once you have him. Take care not to fail me." The smoke hissed, then dissipated into the air. Horace stood back up, shoving the candle back into its hiding place before taking a shuddering breath. The dispatch officer arrived at dawn with the postbox. Contrary to custom, rather than immediately riding back to the castle, she guided her mount up to Setwick's side. "You'd better be quick about this, cousin. Dana isn't as forgiving as Valinor was (may he rest in peace)." "And Nanna is worse. Lydia is missing again." "And? She's probably off on another one of her 'adventures'." "That's not all. The Grelch is loose." Setwick hid his sudden discomfort by making a show of picking imaginary burrs and adjusting Leann's saddle. "What can I do?" "Whatever you can. Nanna's thinking about that coven nonsense, and if Lydia isn't back soon we'll have senile grannies riding their washtubs across the full moon again, like last Ciderfest. I have to go." Setwick slapped the horse, and Leann trotted back towards the highway. Frustration boiled within him as he was torn between blood and duty. He leapt into the saddle. Picking carefully through the trees around the third patrol sent out for his benefit, Grelch sneered in contempt, disappointed that Dana had only seen fit to send regular troops after the most infamous brute ever to grace the deep dungeons with his presence. In a spark of cunning, it finally dawned on him that the bastard Hereth didn't want him to be caught, believing all the while that stupid old Grelch fell for such a lame trap. Once again, he unwrapped the strip of skin that kept the false amulet from touching him and had a good long look. "Well Grelch me lad, seems to us that if he's got a copy nice-like, someones he knows has the true." "Obviously, dimwit. But he wouldn't let us out just to wreak general havoc. He wants us to do his dirty work, and since he didn't tell us what he wants..." "It's in the hand-mulet! It's got a wossname onnit. Geese." "Geas. To get the hand, we get to Hereth. To get to Hereth, we need to know the geas. Are we in harmony, Grelch?" "Damn right." Interrupting his trains of thought, a youthful face dropped down from the trees, just in front of his own. "Hello. You're big. Are you an ogre? Who were you talking to? Do you have an invisible friend too? My friend's name is Joffee; I don't know if he's an ogre because he's invisible, but I think he's not since he's too smart. By the way, I'm Lydia." Her head craned to get a look at the grisly bundle in Grelch's hand. "What's that? Joffee says it's a collar but it looks like a hand to me." Grelch muttered to himself: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Damn right, heh heh." "Lydia! No!" screams a breathless Nanna, who just happened to arrive on the scene. She had noticed the missing Lydia and was the one to notify the guards about it. Of course, not feeling content with the search efforts, Nanna went out in search of the cheery little girl herself, and of course, knowing Lydia the best, Nanna was the first to find her. Nanna ran as quickly as her old legs could take her and swatted the Hand away from Lydia's outstretched hands. Her intuition told her something was evilly amiss with it, and she did not want Lydia to have anything to do with it. Upon contact with her skin, Nanna suddenly felt a surge of dark compelling energy go through her as she heard the words "Grelch, find Rizer and bring him to the Cave of Stinking Puddles. Fall paralyzed and wait there until my mistress comes to you.", before the energy blasted away from her body. Nanna fell to the floor, exhausted and feeling another 20 years older. Fortunately for her, Hereth was too incompetent to forumlate a proper Geas spell. "Nanna!" yelled Lydia as she ran quickly to the old woman's side. "Nanna! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please be ok!" she sobbed as she knelt next to Nanna, shaking her a bit. The phrases "Confound it! Grr..." and "Damnit! The rat-bastard!" seem to come from the Grelch at the same time. Grelch took off as he heard a patrol rushing into the clearing, presumably to investigate all the loud yelling. "Bah! Wasted on an old sod!" "Well, all isn't lost, dear fellow; the old hag *did* mutter something about Rizer and the Cave of Stinking Puddles." "We go then?" "Yes, we will go, but not without preparation. Let us make haste." Nanna woke up in her bed the next morning with quite the headache. Lydia was by her side, holding her old hand. Lifting her head slightly to see Lydia, Nanna realized she was asleep. Laying her head back down, Nanna thought about the amulet. The last thing she remembered about it was seeing it shatter against a tree after she sent it flying. No, that wasn't the important thing... it was that voice she heard. It seemed familiar somehow, like as if she had heard it somewhere before. Perhaps in the town market? No, she hadn't been out of the keep since Lydia was born, and it was a recent voice... someone new to the keep. "It might have been one of the new younger knights," Nanna thought to herself, "no, I haven't been to the barracks for over 3 harvests already. Perhaps one of the new advisors? Maybe..." that was when a painful explosion hit her head. Instinctively lifting her hand to her forehead, she forgot that Lydia was still clutching at it. The young girl shot up, "Nanna! Are you okay? I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she cried out, her eyes still red from tears. Nanna managed to smile and nod slightly before saying "Yes, I'm fine. My head is hurting right now, but I'm fine. Will you please call for the high priest for me?" Lydia nods and rushes off to the temple to find the high priest. Two extremely old women shuffled into Nanna's bedchamber. "Ohhhh, Gemma, we heard you found Lydia just in the nick of time. Heard she was playing with that Gerald boy what got thrown out of the Porters' Guild after that draft horse kicked 'im in the head. Brought you some tea." "Ethy's son told us all about it, him being the officer in the patrol. We came right over just as soon as he got back. They lost three men chasing after!" Nanna sat up, bravely ignoring the throbbing in her temples, and did her best to play hostess. Ethelynn and Reveka fished out the tea set and started serving, giving her a chance to gossip. "She's her father's daughter, true enough. Talking with Gerald, bold as brass, and he was about to give her a magic amulet. Well we all know he's no wizard, and if that dent in his noggin didn't make him the meanest thing on two legs, I don't want to see what's worse. I smacked it out of his hand, I did." "Ohhh, you're so brave, Gemma!" "And then it said find Rizer and take him to the sulfur spring. Called it the Cave of Stinking Puddles or some other such nonsense. Then your boy came in, Ethy, and a good thing, as he was like to tear my head off over that amulet." "Rizer? What's a Rizer?" "Who. That Valinor's knight that took up smithing after he died. After Valinor died, that is, rest his soul. But ain't hardly anyone that knows about him being a rider anymore. Most people think that wolf he's got is just a big dog." The women, their curiosity piqued, talked well into the evening. The Astoria Coven was assembled yet again, and this time it had a purpose. Outside the window, having suddenly forgotten that she was supposed to be in trouble for running off again, Lydia stopped eavesdropping and made a beeline for the woods. "Lydia! Nanna made Joffee promise! Lydia, come back! Oh, bugger." Riena paced her crypt after hearing the latest news from Horace. Things were going along as planned, and the winds prevailing, she would beat Tisa to Rizer. Oh how she hated Tisa, even though they were both servants of the Dragon King... Of course, Tisa is different. For one, she's actually... alive. For another, she *willingly* serves the Dragon King, unlike Riena, a bound lich. Besides, Tisa interjected in her plans; after all, Riena was the one who first discovered the locale of Rizer, and the one who planted Hereth in the court, and the one who "recruited" Horace. Tisa just *had* to butt in and become Lady Dana's advisor, the dastardly succubus. Just because she's alive and not bounded to a crypt, just because she can walk the lands freely and not only at night, only along that fateful path she walked that night... Riena sighed, or what can be percieved as a sigh, if she were alive. Oh how she wished she was still alive, living past her adulthood, marrying a young knight and living a full life of happiness. That is but a hope lost eons past, something that cannot happen anymore. Well, maybe, just maybe, if Riena pleased the Dragon King, he might revert her... Riena's thoughts trailed as she looked at herself; a body that was barely beginning to develop, withered and tattered, a result of over 400 years of being stuck in a dank crypt. Riena can't even remember *how* she got here, only what happened on that fateful day, travelling from her hometown to Astoria, to get their share of grain from the keep... Rizer finally made camp beneath the overhang of a large boulder. Wood was gathered and he had a small fire going, though he did make sure to conceal the light from any scouts, should there be any. Rhone had gone off hunting for their dinner, so Rizer took this time to meditate on the recent events. Too much had been happening, and he needed to take a moment to order his thoughts. Lady Dana, and now even the undead were seeking him. He'd left that life behind him years ago, and his actions had returned with a vengeance. Deep down, he knew they would. He let out a small sigh and closed his eyes. Focusing on the amulet about his neck, his breathing evened out, his mind cleared itself, and his thoughts grew quiet. The blackness lightened and became white, and he stepped within a dream... ----- Voices echoed around/inside him, and he was disoriented, they were so loud/quiet. They boomed/whispered in his ears, and he had to strain to hear them. Visions flashed before him, of a great hall. He stood there, golden light streamed through massive windows/openings, with great marble columns reaching to an unseen ceiling/sky. Figures stood about a fountain/waterfall. Another flash, and he was beside them, and could heard them talking. He could make out their words/thoughts now, and tried to look at them, but he couldn't focus, they were blurry, indistinct...and so bright. As if they were the light/sun itself. They were hooded/helmeted, yet there was no darkness, yet he could not see their faces. "It is too soon." "Agreed." "We must not yet act." "Let this play out." "We will watch, for a while longer." "Only when it is time may we intercede." "It is our duty." "The time will come." "We have a visitor." All the figures seemed to turn to at once to regard him, but he felt no dread, no fear. "It is he." "As expected." "Go. You are not ready." One figure raised/lowered its arm, pointing at him, and Rizer felt himself falling/flying away. The vision blurred even more, and the light withdrew/engulfed itself. ----- Rizer's eyes snapped opened suddenly, and he took a slow, shaky breath. Lydia picked her way through the woods, then stumbled a bit as she stepped on a loose stone. She hated to admit it, but she was lost. Not just lost, but really lost, lots in a great, big, gigantic way. She sat down on a oak tree's root, and started to pout. Her lower lip began to tremble slightly as well. It was cold here, and dark. Her eyes started to water. Ohh, if only Joffee was here... "Now Lydia, you know ladies aren't supposed to cry." Lydia jumped up, startled. "Joffee! You came!" She squealed in delight, looking around as if she could see him if she tried really, really hard. "Of course Lydia, you know I wouldn't leave you to run off all alone. Now come, we have to get back before Nanna finds out we're missing." "Ohh, but, but...All right..." She signed in resignation, stnading up. "But please pro-" Her request was suddenly cut off as a muscular, if rather smelly, arm wrapped about her shoulders, yanking her off her feet. A voice hissed into her ear, and she scrunched her nose at the stinky breath. "Looks like we were right, someone was following us." "Tasty meal you'll make for Grelch, yesss..." "No, we need her alive. She might be useful." "But we're hungry...so long since we tasted fresh meat..." "Shut up, we're keeping her alive." And with that, she was swung atop his shoulder, and Grelch ran deeper into the forest. "Joffee! Help!" Lydia cried out, reaching toward where she had last heard his voice. "Your granddaughter sent for me, Gemma?" "That she did. There's trouble about in the land, and it's using strong magics. Eth and Becky came over as soon as they heard. Lydia was out playing in the woods, and Gerald Porter-- the Grelch, he calls himself now-- tried to give her this." Nanna revealed the broken pieces of the cursed amulet, and brought High Priest Loren up to speed on what the women had been discussing. "Well, ordinarily I'd take it back to the cathedral and have a team of monks chant over it for a while before telling you what you wanted to hear, but this actually looks serious." Loren took the cloth and spread it on the table. Then, closing his eyes, he picked up the pieces and pressed them together. His head cocked to one side, as if listening to distant voices. "A candle, if you please, Gemma." Before Nanna could react, Reveka snatched a nearby candlestick and set it aflame with a pinch of her fingers. Loren nodded in appreciation, then dropped the amulet onto the wick. A bright green flash heralded a puff of thick black smoke. And suddenly, Hereth's face was speaking to them. "Grelch, find Rizer and bring him to the Cave of Stinking Puddles. Fall paralyzed and wait there until my mistress comes to you." Then there was another flash, and Riena's gaunt, sallow face spoke: "Give him this to provide the means and the motivation. The rider cannot be permitted to realize the game we play before his piece is captured." Then the smoke dissipated, nothing more than the wisps of a snuffed candle. "The shield of Ossoth protect us! That was a lich! But who is the rider that it spoke of?" "That's Rizer, the blacksmith. He was one of Valinor's knights. Rode a wolf, he did." "I spoke too soon. Ossoth protect him! Krobat says he is the pick that opens all locks, and treasure beyond the grasp of nimble fingers. We must help him. I must return to the cathedral immediately. Anything you ladies can do with Onatah's blessings...." Loren bolted out the door with haste unbecoming a septagenarian. "We will try. Lydia! Come here, girl! .... Lydia?" After a tense silence, the door blew open violently, and a breathless voice piped up. "Joffee tried to stop her, but she went to find Rizer, and the Grelch came and grabbed her, and they went off towards Beggar's Bowl Pass, and I know Joffee promised, but Joffee can't sit on her, you know!" |