The Fountain of Memories (Interlude)

[Carthrat]

[21:25] <@Carthrat> <->
[21:28] <@Carthrat> Two days into leaving Thaeos behind, the dusty caravan trundles along dune after dune, grain of sand after grain of sand, the sun relentlessly beating down on the participants of this trading expedition. Those outfitted for war find it harsher than the others, for metal plates chafe more than silk robes, even in temperate weather. After another few hours of marching in lockstep, it's hard for Thrall not to be happy when the caravan master (a stolid man with a huge moustache, kindly eyes, and greying hair) calls for camp to be set.
[21:29] <@Carthrat>  it's hard for Thrall not to be happy when the caravan master (a stolid man with a huge moustache, kindly eyes, and greying hair) calls for camp to be set.
[21:31] <@Thrall> Well, it's not so bad when all you're doing is sitting on your horse. Although his legs are a bit stiff. As the caravan halts for camp, Thrall dismounts and goes to get some feed for his horse from their own caravan before tending to his own needs.
[21:34] <@Carthrat> Thrall's horse harumphs slightly as he dismounts. Thrall notes that the camp is being erected around 20 metres away from a circular stone contruction of some kind- it looks like it could be a well, or a fountain. As he starts to go about his business, he feels a small tap on his leg.
[21:35] * @Thrall pauses and looks down at his leg to see what is tapping him!
[21:36] <@Carthrat> A young child stands at his leg, one wrapped, almost comically, in a small black, silk robe. Smooth and angular (too angular for a child..) features stare up at him, strangely intense eyes boring straight into Thrall's own.
[21:38] * @Thrall stares right back at the odd looking infant. "What is it, child?" he growls, not making any effort to seem friendly or welcoming.
[21:42] <@Carthrat> "You are like me," replies the child. She's hardly an infant- looks to be around 8 or 9, by human standards, though she's still quite short. "Your axe will shed tears."
[21:45] <@Thrall> "It's shed more than that..." Thrall rumbles, before dismissively shaking his head. "Bah. Leave me be," he tells her gruffly, adding "That's no concern of a child like yourself," before starting onwards to get the feedbag for his horse.
[21:49] <@Carthrat> "But of concern to you, surely," replies the girl, following after you, practically underfoot. "An axe has a handle, but a man should not."
[21:52] <@Thrall> "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to speak with strangers, girl?" the half-orc asks, pausing to glare at her. "I've no time for the riddles of children."
[21:53] <@Carthrat> "It's hard to teach when you're six feet under."
[21:57] <@Thrall> "Aye, maybe it is," Thrall reluctantly concedes, leaning into their caravan to grab a feedbag and starting back towards his horse. "So, then. What's your interest in the comings and goings of me and my axe?" he asks, just a smidgen less gruffly than before.
[22:02] <@Carthrat> "I just see things," replies the child, pushing back her cowl as Thrall walks onwards, revealing pointy ears- an elven child, perhaps? "The axe that cried, until the elf died."
[22:02] <@Carthrat> (More.)
[22:05] <@Carthrat> "And I saw you, and you were like me, and you had the wet-eyed weapon. And I.." she frowns to herself, sandy fast pouting, "-I'm not sure. But I had to tell you. Because you're not supposed to be wielded by anyone, least of all a shield."
[22:07] <@Thrall> "Hmph," Thrall snorts as he attaches the feedbag over his horse's muzzle. The 'child' is probably as old as he is... "There are those who lead, girl, and those who follow. That's the way of the world."
[22:09] <@Carthrat> "You'd know. But a follower shou-" There comes a shout, and hurried footsteps, from behind Thrall. "Elmyra! What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" The caravan master hurries up, worry and anger across his face.
[22:11] <@Thrall> "So someone did warn you the perils of speaking to strangers," Thrall can't help but note, patting his horse's neck as it gets its meal.
[22:12] <@Carthrat> "But he's not my dad," pouts the girl, as the leader approaches. "Apologies, traveller," he says, looking Thrall up and down. He doesn't look intimidated, either. "I hope my charge wasn't bothering you overmuch."
[22:13] <@Thrall> "She talks a bit too much," Thrall glances down at the girl, though it's not so much of a glare, now. "But no harm done."
[22:16] <@Carthrat> The master kneels down, and smacks the girl over the head, though very lightly. "Still a child, I fear. Elmyra! Back to your tent," he says, firmly, the girl giving you one last look as she walks off about the sand. "She's.. well, prone to saying the oddest things, at times. Harmless, but the superstitous find it disconcerting."
[22:18] * @Thrall nods. "Thinks herself the seer, eh?" he rumbles, stroking his chin. "Ah, well. Like I said, no harm done."
[22:19] <@Carthrat> "They do say it comes up at a young age," replies the master, doing likewise. "Even if she's old enough to be my sister."
[22:20] <@Thrall> "Elves," Thrall snorts, all too understanding in his tone.
[22:22] <@Carthrat> "We're going to reach your destination shortly, as well, or at least close enough to it," adds the master, dropping his hands. "Only another day to go before we part ways. Though, I don't suppose I could convince you to stay on? Ferzouf speaks highly of your skills, and, well, you can never have too many extra hands, out here."
[22:24] <@Thrall> "My apologies," Thrall shakes his head slowly. "Our contract with Saradush will take us deeper into the desert... even though one of our number has already left on 'personal' business," he fairly spits the word out, "The rest of us will see the job through."
[22:27] <@Carthrat> "As you'd have it," replies the master, nodding. "Make sure you stock up well before you leave. We can spare enough water and food that it won't be an issue." He's silent for a long moment, after that, taking a swig from his waterskin before going on. "Do you see the fountain, across there?" he says, pointing towards the stone monument, which casts an odd shadow in the dusk.
[22:28] <@Thrall> "Aye?" Thrall turns his gaze to the stone construction.
[22:29] <@Carthrat> "Special visit for our guests," he continues, jauntily. "They call it the 'Fountain of Memories'. Legend has it that those who sleep nearby revisit forgotten things in their dreams, memories lurking in the depths of the soul. And, as someone like you knows, all- well, most of these legends have some truth." (More.)
[22:30] <@Carthrat> "My men won't sleep near it," he adds, considering. "They think it's haunted. But, if you're looking for privacy.. well, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been described as 'grim' more than a few times."
[22:33] <@Thrall> "Hmph," Thrall snorts amusedly. "An apt description as any," he concludes. "Feh, I don't know about my forgotten memories, but some of my companions may have an interest. It's as good a place as any to sleep," he shrugs, unable to help being a little bit curious as to what could be behind those legends.
[22:37] <@Carthrat> "Your companions, eh?" says the master, chuckling. "Those girls, now.. a couple of my men have been daring each other to proposition them. Nobody's had the stones, yet, though."
[22:40] <@Thrall> "Probably wise... Seraphin, the one with red eyes, doesn't respond well to those offers," Thrall notes, wanting to avoid anything unseemly.
[22:42] <@Carthrat> "I better not tell them that," considers the master. "Some might take it as a challenge. Anyhow, good luck! I don't know what you're up to, out here, but you seem a decent sort, all told." He walks off, barking orders to a few people about. It's more like a military caravan than a merchants, now that you think about it...
[22:45] <@Thrall> Giving his horse another few minutes to finish eating, Thrall takes off its feedbag and returns to their caravan, removing his armour and getting some rations and his bedroll before leading the horse over to the fountain, briefly passing on the Caravan Master's tale about to his fellow mercenaries on the way. They can make their own minds as to sleeping arrangements.
[22:47] <@Carthrat> The rest of the evening passes uneventfully. There's some singing going on, the nightly routine of the caravanserai, praying to Auril and Umberlee, of all things, to give them succor through the desert.
[22:50] * @Thrall keeps to himself, slowly eating his trail rations and watching the sun set before he beds down by the fountain, wrapped up against the chill of the desert night.
[22:53] <@Carthrat> The stars wink at Thrall overhead, perfectly clear desert sky somewhat beautiful, even to his jaded eyes. As he drifts off to sleep, he swears he can hear a bubbling behind him, but he is enwrapped by dream shortly after...
[22:53] <@Carthrat> <-80s transition effects!->
[22:54] <@Carthrat> 4Fire.
[22:55] <@Carthrat> The crude wooden fort burns with fire, smoke spilling over the cold snows and plunging the whole area into haze. Battle-cries and screams echo from outside, and young Thrall hears the roars of his brethren as they screech into the night, before being feathered by arrows-
[22:55] <@Carthrat> -blasted by spells-
[22:56] <@Carthrat> -cut down by swords-
[22:57] <@Carthrat> -crushed by no great army, no titanic battle, but an orcish fort laid siege to by a mere five. Or, at least, that's what he can tell from the screams and orcish shouts outside. He lies in a tiny hovel, along with six other children- some full orcs, some half-breeds like himself. Over them all stands.. a mother? A matron? Who knows? She grips a massive maul in both hands, ready to guard the entrance against all comers. Nonetheless, an air of crushed hope and despair fills the room, as outside, the orcs fight a losing battle... against a mere five!
[22:58] <@Carthrat> Nonetheless, an air of crushed hope and despair fills the room, as outside, the orcs fight a losing battle... against a mere five!
[23:00] * @Thrall whimpers quietly, doing everything he can to keep quiet and invisible. Not that any noise he could make would likely be heard over the carnage outside, but if he makes too much noise, the bad things will come inside here, too... so if he's quiet he'll be safe, right?
[23:02] <@Carthrat> One of the other children nudges you, whispering. "Arak- j, just stay down, right? Mother will protect us." An older one, around ten years- he was given his axe, a rite of passage for the orcs of these northen tribes, and had begun his real training.
[23:02] * Thrall is now known as Arak
[23:04] <@Arak> The infant half-orc nods shakily to his clan-brother. Mother will protect them... she has to, right? "Why bad men come?" he whispers, hunkering down against the dirty straw bedding.
[23:06] <@Carthrat> "Because they can kill us without restraint!" bellows the matron, clutching her maul tightly. "Only good orc is a dead orc, to them, huh? Then we'll repay them a hundredfold!" Even though she means what she says, there's an edge of fear to her voice. A huge roar sounds outside- another fireball! Blistering heat sweeps over the hovel, and something is on fire above!
[23:10] * @Arak cries out as flames begin to lick at the ceiling from above, scrabbling back against the drafty timber wall. If only he was older... if only he was a brave orc warrior, able to protect his tribe against these cruel invaders. But he's not and he can't.
[23:12] <@Carthrat> The other children do likewise, crying and screaming at the pain. 12"Time to die"2 comes a whisper, echoing through the room. The matron in front suddenly lets out a roar, and lashes out with a massive hammer! A nimble humanoid fences with her, rapier glistening in the fires of the fort! The woman's massive hammer is too slow to catch her opponent- and then, with a terrible wet sound, she freezes. Arak can dimly make out the point of a blade, puncturing right through her back- before it vanishes, and the matron crumples to the ground.
[23:13] <@Carthrat> Arak can dimly make out the point of a blade, puncturing right through her back- before it vanishes, and the matron crumples to the ground.
[23:16] <@Arak> Emitting a small and terrified whimper, Arak forces himself to be quiet, pressing his tiny form against the wall and wishing for nothing more than to make himself invisible. He's not a brave warrior, he can't fight someone who killed Matron just like that... all he can do is hope he doesn't get killed himself.
[23:17] <@Carthrat> The older orc shrieks as the matron plummets, holding up an axe and clumsily rushing towards the swordsman, only to be shortly impaled himself. Kicked off the point of an elven rapier, Arak can make out the assaliant- an elf, blonde locks falling about it's face as it surveys the rest of the room. Not an ounce of pity is across it's face, silver-green armour obscuring most of it's bodily features. (More)
[23:18] <@Carthrat> The cries die down, not a single orc still doing battle. In comparision, a group of humanoids gather around the room, glancing in- the elf, clad is chain and with a rapier- a human, wielding a broadsword and shield, and three others- Arak can't see, holding staves, maces, instruments of war and death- stained in blood and ash, but satisfied faces through and through.
[23:20] <@Arak> 'They can't see me, they can't see me, they can't see me...' Arak wishes fervently as the violence seems to die down, keeping himself pressed against the rickety wall even as flames continue to spread across the ceiling above, doorway blocked by the murderers of his clan.
[23:20] <@Carthrat> "What're we going to do with these ones?" says the elf, a too-charming, too-beautiful voice asking the others, almost the sound of innocence. "Kill 'em," replies the human warrior, holding up his broadsword and glancing grimly at the lot. "They'll die anyway, and a scalp's a scalp."
[23:21] <@Carthrat> He steps foward and thrusts his sword through one child, who dies with nary a sound. The rest start screaming, piling even further to the rear of the room.
[23:23] <@Arak> His command of common even worse than his command of orcish, Arak doesn't understand the content of the conversation, but the human's actions speak loudly enough for him. Quiet! He has to be quiet! If he makes any noise he'll only get their attention and die, but if he keeps quiet, and very still, maybe they'll overlook him?
[23:25] <@Carthrat> The human advances on the group, his face grim. He raises his sword to plunge through Thrall... and is halted by a sudden scream, from behind! "Durvanian!" comes a shout that turns into a muffled yelp, and Arak can see two bodies collapse to the ground outside, followed by the clang of steel! A brief melee ensues between two unknown parties out the door.. but ends quickly, another human expiring with a muffled sigh.
[23:26] <@Carthrat> "What the- what the bloody hell are you doing?" roars the sword-and shield wielding human, rushing out with his elven companion to fight this unseen assaliant! A muffled chuckle is the only reponse Arak hears, before a dazzling example of swordplay and violence takes place before his eyes, human and elf fighting against a black-clad man!
[23:28] * Ami-chan (elaine@cpe-70-116-156-7.houston.res.rr.com) has joined #dunes
[23:28] * ChanServ sets mode: +ao Ami-chan Ami-chan
[23:28] <@Arak> Closing his eyes tightly as the sword is raised, Arak squints them open at that shout, daring to hope that he's been rescued. A hunting party returning just in time? No... that's no orc. Watching, Arak finds himself rooting for the black-clad stranger to kill these murderers who destroyed his home.
[23:30] <@Carthrat> The battle is fast and furious. Both sides deal numerous wounds to each other, but the black swordsman is more skilled than both these ones together! Finally, with one blow, he pierces the man's neck, withdrawing his blade to advance on the elfmaiden! She stares back at the man, whispered words of elvish escaping her lips, words that fling themselves on your memory like nothing else. "Tyan.. tyan, shissuren?" The black-clad elf stares back, and you can make out his features more clearly... (more)
[23:31] <@Carthrat> "Tyan.. tyan, shissuren?" The black-clad elf stares back, and you can make out his features more clearly... (more)
[23:31] <@Carthrat> ...sharp features and a smile on his lips, a hawkish nose.. a face you dimly recall that you know well. "Shisu syacari mizumi nen niayan," he replies. Both are still at these words for a moment, before launching into one more furious flurry.
[23:31] <@Carthrat> (More.)
[23:31] <@Carthrat> It ends quickly, and another corpse drops at the black elfs feet. He glances at it, almost looking apologetic, before staring over all of the orcish children.
[23:32] * @Arak looks up at the man uncertainly. He's an elf... same as the bad ones that killed everyone. But he killed the bad elves... so is he good?
[23:34] <@Carthrat> The elf slowly produces a piece of paper, wiping blood and tissue from his well-used, shining silver blade. He speaks, in fluent orcish- "Everything you know is dead."
[23:36] * @Arak whimpers at that, eyes straying to the corpses of his brethren, and knowing that everyone outside is equally dead. There's no escaping that horrible truth.
[23:38] <@Carthrat> "But, we all end up that way," he adds. "The lot of us." He marches over, surveying you all close-up. Inquisitive, slanty eyes look over all the orcs, and he gives a snort. "Now, which of you are worthy of survival?"
[23:41] * @Arak doesn't dare say anything, too terrified to speak and risk incurring the stranger's wrath.
[23:43] <@Carthrat> The other orcish children follow Arak's lead, huddling against the corner of the wall. The elf glances across the lot of you for a moment, before snorting. "That's it? And here I thought the orcs were fierce from birth," he says, snorting as he stands up. He gives the body of the matron on the floor a quick kick, irritation across his face. "Then again, they were beaten by five idiots. I guess you were fated to die miserably anyway."
[23:47] <@Arak> "Why?" it's a tiny whisper, in his oddly guttural yet high pitched childish voice. It doesn't look like he can hide, and with no other way out of it, Arak at least wants an answer to that. Why did it all have to end like this?
[23:52] <@Carthrat> The elf pauses, glancing back, and kneeling down to your level. There's not a hint of true kindness on his serious face, but he seems almost parental as he looks on you. "Now. Isn't that something we all want to know," he says, sounding tired. He reaches out with one hand, lifting up your chin. "Why am I here? Why did this happen to me? Why don't things work out?" He pauses, closing his eyes for a long moment. "One word. So many meanings. But I found out that it's the wrong question." (More)
[23:53] <@Carthrat> "The word isn't 'why'," he murmurs. "The word is 'how'. How do I continue living? What 'how' do you want answered?"
[23:54] * Retrieving #dunes modes...
[23:55] * @Arak pauses a moment, even his childish mind feeling the weight on this question. Glancing towards the dead Matron, and then the other humanoid corpses by the door... "How do I become strong?" he asks finally.
[23:57] <@Carthrat> The elf chuckles to himself, smiling a little. "You need a reason," he replies. "Something, or someone, to follow. Men, by themselves- weak, egotistical fools all. But when you have.. someone to follow, you can grow strong."
Session Time: Mon Apr 24 00:00:00 2006
[00:00] <@Arak> "If I follow you... will I be strong?" the young half-orc asks, struggling to follow the conversation in hopes that somehow this will let him live and grow to be a strong warrior who won't ever have to cower while his brethren are slain about him again.
[00:02] <@Carthrat> "You'll be strong," whispers the elf. "In an eyeblink, you'll be the greatest fighter alive." He holds out a slender hand to Arak, a creased, calloused hand, worn from many hours spent gripping a hilt.
[00:04] <@Arak> Hesitantly, Arak reaches up, his own hybrid hand tiny compared even to an elf's.
[00:05] <@Carthrat> The elf clasps your hand in a firm grip, dragging you away from the rest of the orcs, who don't make a sound. He starts walking slowly out of the hovel, leather boots alongside orcish feet, tramping over blood and corpses.
[00:06] * @Arak works his own small feet rapidly to keep up, leaving his clan behind and going towards his destiny...
[00:07] <@Carthrat> <->
[00:07] <@Carthrat> The heat of fire and the feeling of dirt transforms into the beating sun and a length of sand, Thrall's eyes blearily opening to the desert dawn, unforgiving heat pouring down.
[00:08] * Arak is now known as Thrall
[00:10] * @Thrall sits up, rubbing his eyes slowly and turning to look at the fountain. An illusion... or a true memory? It certainly felt real... Going through it with the knowledge of an adult, he repeats those elven phrases, deciphering their meaning with his current command of the language. "Tyan, shissuren? Shisu syacari mizumi nen niayan..." he repeats softly.
[00:12] <@Carthrat> "Why, father?" and "And yet, you oppose me to the last..."
[00:14] <@Carthrat> It's spoken in the poetical elven dialect, rather than the (relatively) common tounge.
[00:15] * @Thrall slowly shakes his head as he rises, going to spash some water from the fountain to wake himself up. His 'father' had a daughter... a daughter he killed mere moments before taking Thrall in. Not an abandoned half-breed found in the city, but taken from his clan after the rest had all been slain... The poetic speech fits Elric, at least.
[00:16] <@Carthrat> There's no water in the fountain, but Thrall does find one thing as he peers inside... a silvered rapier.
[00:18] <@Thrall> "Hell's teeth..." Thrall shakes his head slowly, taking out the rapier and testing its weight with a few practice swings - far from his preferred weapon, but he was trained in its use along with many others. He and Elric will definitely exchange words when they next meet...
[00:20] <@Carthrat> The rapier is finely made, as most are- it settles comfortably in the palm of your hand, though unfamiliar nonetheless.
[00:22] * Anastasia (~dunefar@ip24-253-133-211.hr.hr.cox.net) has joined #dunes
[00:22] * ChanServ sets mode: +qo Anastasia Anastasia
[00:24] <@Thrall> Sighing a little as he wonders just what this means for his life, Thrall goes to unwrap the cloth covered bundle behind his horse's saddle containing the falchion he looted a few days ago, putting the rapier in with that other blade and wrapping them both up. He can ask Elric about it when they return...
[00:24] <@Thrall> That done, he just sits on the edge of the fountain, pondering with an odd melancholy feeling as he waits for the others to rouse and camp to be broken.

[Carthrat]

[13:05] <@Carthrat> <--->
[13:07] <@Carthrat> A study, a library, a place of work and scholarship. The smell of parchment and ink is strong in here- as is the smell of dust. Before her, Seraphin's father looms, not particularly large on his own, but certainly taller than a 13-year-old girl. He draws back his hand as he stares at her...
[13:07] <@Carthrat> 4Slap!1 A resounding sting across the cheek; a familiar sensation, known far too well to teenage Seraphin. Her pretty dress, manicured nails, well-tended hair- all these elements of social grace are useless before her father, who now seems to find only fault in his daughter.
[13:09] * @Seraphin tenses her jaw, not even a tremble of fear or cry of pain escaping the small girl and paled complexion. This isn't new, just how life is, how it's been for the last year. It's all normal now, the pain and hatred that he leaves to her.
[13:12] <@Carthrat> "They're going to be coming soon," he says, and you can hear the edge in his voice. "It's all your fault, Seraphin. Everything was fine until you started to change." He puts his hands on your shoulders, desperation taut in his voice. "Why? Why can't you be normal? Why are you such a dissapointment? Seraphin, Seraphin!"
[13:14] <@Seraphin> "I don't know!" Seraphin lashes out, shivering once, only once before she snaps her will back around herself. He's going to pick me up, he's going throw me, it's going to hurt, her mind whispers to her, waiting.
[13:17] <@Carthrat> His grip tightens on your shoulder, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing! "Look at you," he whispers, marching you towards a tall mirror, forcing you to look once again on your failure of a body.
[13:19] * @Seraphin just stares back at thsoe red eyes, the silvery-white hair, both that used to be raven black, and her skin...now pale, not pallid, but fiar, like someone from much farther north. Not the southern merchant family her mother came from, and that she inherited, oh no, six months of adolescence had torn all of THAT away from her. That's all Seraphin does though, is stare at herself, stare back at a faceshe can't understand or comprehend, o
[13:19] <@Seraphin> 06one that's only a mask of emotionlessness.01
[13:24] <@Carthrat> "Those eyes, those horrible eyes, a precursor of the demon womb, and a prelude to hate eternal!" rants your father, releasing you and whirling around. "Where? Where did I go wrong? Why does the heritage come now?"
[13:26] <@Seraphin> Seraphin herself hardly knows what her father speaks of, but just keeps staring. She can't do anything else, he'll just hit her again. Not until he's left the room can she do anything but whatever he's decided as a punishment.
[13:27] <@Carthrat> He's silent for a long time, and for a moment you notice how.. pathetic he looks. His once-fine clothes are frayed on the edges, but he wears them anyway; all the trappings of a well-off man, but worn as shell to protect to hollow man inside. "Go to your room," he whispers. "And wait there."
[13:29] <@Seraphin> "Yessir," Seraphin whispers, not touching the book she left on the table. Maybe it'll survive if she doesn't notice it. But so she goes, off and up the stairs to her bedroom, a stark place as time has slowly taken away all of the personal things she might fill it with, and she simply hasn't bothered to replace them.
[13:34] <@Carthrat> Some personal effects remain; a table and chair, an open book lying on the table. A discarded harp lies in one corner, heavy and brass- you never took well to the lessons, and only dischordant notes would flow whenever you attempted to play.
[13:38] * Carthrat is now known as Carthrat-Away
[13:39] * @Seraphin (E-Team@71-34-21-16.mpls.qwest.net) Quit (Seraphin)
[14:12] * Ko-dinner is now known as Kotono
[14:28] * Carthrat-Away is now known as Carthrat
[14:29] <@Carthrat> *light and porcelain, go me
[14:30] * Seraphin (E-Team@71-34-21-16.mpls.qwest.net) has joined #evildunes
[14:30] * ChanServ sets mode: +ao Seraphin Seraphin
[14:34] * @Seraphin sighs softly as her eyes fall on the harp. Mother's things shouldn't be placed like that...they really  just shouldn't. Seraphin picks the harp up, gently dusting it with a hankerchief. At least it's survived this long...
[14:36] <@Carthrat> It's quite dusty. How long has it just been lying there? Even if you can't play it, it makes a fine momento on its own. Your room seems quite cold and bare despite it, and you can't help but shiver slightly. There's a portrait hanging on one side, of you- before you... changed.
[14:40] * @Seraphin bites her lip, staring at that girl. They weren't really the same person. They shared blood, maybe, and parentage...little else. Some things about the bones of her cheeks and nose, if one looked hard enough, but everything else stood out. Caramel skin next to pale alabaster, black hair and and eyes against shining white and red. Her father liked that girl, or at least seemed to. Her autn and cousins...they weren't mean now, they didn'
[14:40] <@Carthrat> OOC: Her autn and cousins...they weren't mean now, they didn'-
[14:41] <@Seraphin> they weren't mean now, they didn't hurt her, they just whispered some times, but her aunt still let her be Seraphin. She hadn't seen ehr aunt in four months, though. Sometimes she wondered if she was still alive.
[14:42] <@Carthrat> Sharply, breaking your internal thoughts, there's a pounding on your upstairs window, a heavy object thrown against the shutters. You are reminded indeed that you are very much alive, and that there are people out there who wouldn't mind changing that fact.
[14:46] * @Seraphin doesn't even go to look. It wouldn't matter, she might get hurt, dad would hurt her for showing her face. She just needs to stay here, in her room, where she won't be noticed. Everyone would be happier.
[14:48] <@Carthrat> Something white-hot rushes through your mind, a burst of pure anger! Why do they throw stones at you? It is your destiny to be feared, yes- but with that fear must come respect! It is not their place to slight yo, in anyway! ...the unfamiliar line of thinking dies out, somehow, accompanied by another thud against your window.
[14:52] <@Seraphin> That's just stupid. She's only a little girl. Thirteen years old, who would fear her? Nobody. WHich is exactly who she should be...nobody, nothing. Seraphin curls up on her bed with the harp. Momma would've understood...right? They never met, but somehow, Seraphin wants to cling to her long dead mother, to just ignroe everything but her until the bad things go away.
[14:56] <@Carthrat> You can hear shouting coming from downstairs, angry yells of the other people who live nearby. Your father shouts back, harsh words exchanged on both sides. The voices slowly leave your house, and the rocks against your window... stop.
[14:58] <@Seraphin> Seraphin just stays on her bed. Who knows what might happen next? Not that it matters. She just lives day to day now, nothing but books to fill her time or mind, or avoiding her father.
[14:59] <@Carthrat> A long moment of silence passes, before footsteps begin slowly moving up the stairs, the wood creaking beneath somebodies feet.
[15:01] <@Seraphin> Well, it's not soemthing she can really do anything about, is it? Seraphin jsut hugs the harp a little tighter. He knows where she is, and if she wasn't here...well, that'd only hurt more.
[15:02] <@Carthrat> Your door creaks open, revealing your father, once again. He's holding something behind his back, and has a sickly, crazed expression on his face as he glances at you. "Seraphin..." he murmurs, staring hard.
[15:06] <@Seraphin> "Yes?" Seraphin asks, the mask coming back over her face, formality as she sits up with the harp in her lap. "Father?"
[15:09] <@Carthrat> "You used to look so much like your mother," he whispers, staring at you, advancing, slowly. "Even when she died thanks to you, it was alright, because you were so much like her..."
[15:10] * @Seraphin stares at her father, wondering where this is going. Probably just going to hit her again. And again, and again.
[15:11] <@Carthrat> There's a strange flash through your mind, again, a brief note that comes unwilling- "Parents have the right to do with their children as they please."(More)
[15:12] <@Carthrat> Your father, meanwhile, slowly brings out his right hand, revealing a long knife, glinting slightly in the low light. "But you're not like her anymore," he whispers, unsteadily continuing on. "Now you're someone else."
[15:14] <@Seraphin> Seraphin swallows, not entirely believing what's happening. He just wants to scare her, he won't do anything with the knife...maybe cut her hair, he hates her hair, he'll just cut her hair, right?
[15:15] <@Carthrat> He reaches out towards you with one hand, grasping one of your white locks and pulling it up, hard. "This isn't yours!" he shrieks, sawing it off, tugging painfully at your scalp! Another thought flashes through your mind, unbidden- "He is going to do away with his child.. for good."
[15:18] * @Seraphin cries softly, a pain she hasn't known before, stumbling back. He wouldn't...he coucldn't, would he? He jsut...no, he can't! "You gave it to me!" she shriueks, suddenly, breaking just a little.
[15:19] <@Carthrat> "I can't stand it any more, Seraphin," he stares, tears slowly running down his face. He roughly throws you on your bed, brandishing his knife and advancing towards you.
[15:21] <@Seraphin> "Momma!" Seraphin pushes the harp up between her self and her father, almost like a shield, a ward, or something. Momma will protect her, right? Momma would never want this!
[15:22] <@Carthrat> "As long as you're his child," whispers a tiny voice in your mind, again- "You can't do anything against him." He casually pushes the harp away, shaving both your hands against the bed, leaning over your prone form, knife cutting slightly across your wrist!
[15:27] <@Seraphin> Seraphin whimpers, beginning to struggle, to finally twist and kick and push, however futile it mjgiht be. "NO!" she screams back at him, crying and stuggling. "You CAN'T, I'm not yours! I'm Momma's!" she shrieks, the blood burning in her mind, the cut an entirely different slice through her.
[15:31] <@Carthrat> Your father stumbles back, as if he never contemplated the idea that you might resist. "You're not hers," he shouts, standing up tall. "You killed her! You're my mistake, not hers!" But there's an edge of doubt through his voice, as a strange whisper goes through your mind, again- "In renouncing a mortal parent, you truly seal your fate," it murmurs, sounding stronger. Forceful. Powerful- full of confident and true potency, not the sham of bullying and escapist you see in front of you.
[15:33] <@Seraphin> "I don't wan this!"" Seraphin screams, seathing, breathing in gasps and shudders. "Any of this! Anything you gave to me!" she snarls, trembling. "I'm not yours! I'm momma's! You were momma's mistake!" she challenges back, red eyes burning with anger.
[15:34] <@Carthrat> "You don't want what I gave you?" snarls your father, only hearing the words he wants to hear.. those that will justify his actions. "Then I'll take it away! Your life isn't worth keeping, ungrateful girl!" He rears back his knife to strike. You can see what will happen- in an instant, it will brush aside your weak defence, and plunge deep into your heart.
[15:38] <@Seraphin> He can't! He's not her parent! She's not his! She's no one's but momma's! Seraphin's mind rebels, trying to move out of the way, no matter how futile. She's momma's! She can't accept him! He's just a monster that hurts her!
[15:39] <@Carthrat> Given your position, there's virtually no way you can get out the way in time. The knife hovers in the air, ready the slash down into your stomach, ripping apart your vitals and spilling your blood all over the bed... yet, it does not.
[15:45] <@Seraphin> Seraphin doesn't even look, she stopped paying attention to the knife a moment ago. Instead she dives, the harp brought up in her hands. "Momma tells you to stop!" she yells, smashing the item against the back of her father's head!
[15:47] <@Carthrat> Your father topples back, dropping the knife, his face locked into a rigid expression of desperation.. but his body doesn't flail, merely fall. The harp splinters to pieces in our hands, and you find yourself holding two seperate pieces of wood, dangling from each other by loose strings...
[15:53] <@Seraphin> Seraphin's hands tremble a little, red eyes slowly clouding over amongst it all. He...he...he killed momma! This all happened because of him! Murderer! Anbd then he hurt her! Hurt her again and again!  Seraphin's mind burns with it all, shivering and demanding as she falls to her knees. The stories...all the books, you've read it, you know how! People die! People that hrut people need to die! Her mind snarls, and she reaches out, the wirestwi
[15:54] <@Seraphin> wirestwisting together, around his neck, bacdk, feeble arms pulling them as tight as they can, desperate for blood.
[15:56] <@Carthrat> Your father's mouth opens, but no sound comes out, save a slight gagging. His face flares with horror as the harp-wires slowly seep into his neck, as a strength you didn't know you had flows through your arms, pulling through skin and flesh to draw blood, blood that seeps down from his neck, slowly, so slowly... with a sickening, slick sound, you fill the wires harshly cut *something*, your father's head suddenly lolling to one side.
[15:57] <@Carthrat> side.
[15:59] <@Seraphin> Seraphin stays there a long moment, staring in shock down at her father. She can't let anyone get that close again...no, definitely not...they have to follow him to Hell if they do. They'd all be like him...so she ahs to go away, where no one will tyr...but it's daylight. She can wait for night...no one comes here. What's she need to...that man had... Seraphin begins to move around the house, searching. Coins, jewelry...she needs to disappear
[16:00] <@Seraphin> disappear, but she isnt' dumb, no, momma gave her a great mind!
[16:01] <@Carthrat> Valuables, gold, things of use- your father was well off, and had stored much away. There's a box, he had, in which he stored all of your mother's jewlery, a momento of a time long past.
[16:06] <@Seraphin> Seraphin takes that box, sticking it away in the sack she has to use. She'll have to wear her riding clothes...momma's jewelry isn't to be sold. No, definitely not, but she can wear it, when she's older... She takes what she thinks she can cary, pausing to use a bread knife and saw the harp frame into three pieces. It was too bulky and wide making HIM stop...
[16:07] <@Carthrat> Draining memories continue to flow through your mind, and Seraphin feels an odd detachment from the scene before her. Whereas just a moment ago, it was like she was doing everything herself, now it's more like she's just watching her younger persona go through the motions...
[16:14] <@Seraphin> Seraphin blinks sharply at  the sudden jarring, feeling weird. Hm? she thinks to herself, watching the little girl Why...?
[16:16] <@Carthrat> The past nine years go past her dreamlike eyes in a flash, memories and thoughts of old assailing her present mind. Before she knows it, however, they all fade into nothing, replaced by a towering beast of fire and flame, looming up and over you, demonic features clear as he stares- "Remember, 'Princess!'' it bellows, staring down at you. "Since your renounced your mortal parent, your fate is sealed!" An echo of earlier words, once spoken benign and in whisper, now expressed in shout and command.
[16:16] <@Carthrat> An echo of earlier words, once spoken benign and in whisper, now expressed in shout and command.
[16:18] * @Seraphin laughs in the demon's face easily, mirth at the creature's bellowing. "I renounced the mortal coil...but you have made something curiously obvious to me," she laughs, smiling. "A mother's love is just as strong as a granddfather's," she murmurs, her smile twisting. "I should've seen it sooner...yes, I sealed my fate, or fates, but what happens is what happens, and where I go, when, and how, are not yet to come or decided."
[16:20] * Kotono (dunefar@ip24-253-133-211.hr.hr.cox.net) Quit (-=SysReset 2.53=-)
[16:20] <@Carthrat> The demon is still, a moment, before the flames die down, the terrible form vanishes, and a broad sky is left beyond the flames. Stars glisten in the night air, as the endless horizon stands forth. Awake, once again, in the middle of the night, Seraphin hears a strain of music, from somewhere.. the beautiful notes of a well-played harp, a tune of encouragement and wonder, echoing from behind her, in front, everywhere.
[16:25] * @Seraphin smiles, warmth and sadness mingling on her face, two emotions that she hasn't let reach the surface in a decade or longer. She sits up, looking around. She can hope at least, what must be her mother's music, that it might come with a sight to be had...but ghosts may be ghosts, or spirits, or what have you. So it is only hope.
[16:27] <@Carthrat> The music fades softly, but you know that the music that was played will remain ever in your heart, even in your fingers. Around you, your companions are still sleeping... in the quiet desert night, everything slowly becomes silent, leaving you completely alone with your thoughts, once more.
[16:27] <@Carthrat> OOC: Finish here?
[16:27] * @Seraphin smiles more. "I love you, mother," she breathes, letting go and falling back to sleep.

[Corwin]

The second-to-last night of the time spent with this caravan has given Maz plenty of time to reflect on the preceding events- if, of course, the journey hasn't so far already. Making camp a little earlier than usual, the caravan has stopped and made camp a short distance away from an odd stone well of some kind. You can see Thrall setting up his camp there as you go about your business. But the locals stay well away.

Maz offers a quick prayer to Auril, severely tempted to start with this desert instead of her home if she ever becomes strong enough to help her goddess realize her dreams.

Even so, the desert gets much colder at night (not that the freezing tempereture really bothers Maz- or Seraphin, come to think of it. ) Still, it's a while on to go.. and, while you're doing basic camp stuff- "You know, books aren't fun. Why don't you just throw it out?"

Maz blinks, and looks in the direction of the voice.

There's an elven girl, there, with sand on her face- she's wearing a short black robe, like a miniature mage might.

"Books let me turn people I don't like into popsicles," Maz says with a touch of pride in her voice. "Isn't that fun?"

"Well, maybe, but you don't really need the book," replies the girl, frowning. "You could just do it, if you really wanted."

"I kinda like the smell of books," Maz admits, holding hers protectively to her chest.

"Hmph. There's one book, though, that'll decide if you use what's inside you or not," smirks the child, sounding inordinately satisfied. "You, the red-eyed one, or... the archer."

"A book with a mind of its own?" Maz asks, her eyebrows raising. "I would very much like to meet it."

"It's not like the book decides," replies the girl, rolling her eyes. "It's a figure of speech. It's who reads the book is the one who.. um.. I'm not sure. I think they grow wings, but one of you wouldn't, and.." she frowns in consternation.

"There's nothing like a touch of confusion to take my mind off this dusty place," Maz comments, settling down more comfortably. "But if you're bored, I could just let you read one of my books. It'll be fun!"

"I don't need to read your books," replies the girl. "Anyway, it doesn't matter if you won't listen to me, because the veiled archer will find you soon enough. Then you'll be sorry!"

"So you weren't talking about our archer friend?" Maz asks, confused. "You know, when you say 'archer', he's pretty much the only one I know."

"I think you know another," replies the girl, coyly.

"I try very hard to forget that," Maz says with a grimace. "Must be some engraved reaction. Probably from all that fun, fun archery practice together."

"I guess you're used to forgetting things. It must be such a total bore, having to relearn everything daily," she goes on, smirking again. "But I saw that book, and the three fiendresses reaching for it. I guess it's powerful or something, you all wanted it pretty badly."

"I'll want it extra hard if it means that nasty bitch won't get it," Maz says spitefully, forgetting that she's talking to a child for a moment.

"Hmph. I thought you'd want it for yourself, but if jealousy is all that's there, I guess you're just like her," snorts the girl.

Maz's eyes widen marginally, and she calms down. "I would be interested in it beyond mere 'jealousy', as you call it, if I actually knew more about this book," she tells the girl with a shrug. "I suppose the mystery of it has some effect, but it would not cause an overwhelming urge to forego everything in pursuit of this as-yet unnamed book."

"It's not like I know much about the specifics," replies the girl, looking sideways. "I don't really see any details. Just that whichever one of you reads it will.. ugh, I don't know. But it's for your type."

"Fine, it's caught my interest, if nothing else." Maz leans slightly closer. "If that will make you happier, I'll go for it because I'm interested, not because I don't want the Spawn of Evil to get it."

"I don't know anything about you two," comments the girl, idly. "Or that other one. I guess if she's the spawn of evil, and you're her sister, that makes you the spawn of evil too, huh?"

"Hey, she's the evil twin!" Maz protests. "This would make me a spawn of evil only in the most technical of senses."

"It's funny how twins have the same views," considers the girl. "Or something."

"Yes. Hilarious," Maz deadpans. "I'd very much like to know what I ever did to her that was mean for the sake of meanness."

"If you can't remember, sleep by your friend," considers the girl, pointing a finger at Thrall, who is making camp near that odd well.

"Umm. Okay." She considers the offer for a moment. "It might lift my spirits, if nothing else."

"Hmph. They don't call it the 'weight of memory' for nothing," replies the girl, and you can see elvish ears poking out from her hair. She starts walking off, tossing her hair back.

Maz watches the girl go, before shrugging, and packing her book away as she moves herself and her pack towards the well, nodding at Thrall in passing.

Thrall's asleep by the time you go past, but his face is twitching, strangely. For a moment, you think he actually looks afraid of something- that's not a look you've seen before.

Maz notes the look for future reference, and settles down to continue reading her book.

<-80s transition effects!->

"Hey, Maz," says your 6-year-old sister, glancing across at you. Little fangs poke out from just behind her lip, but she manages a friendly smile, anyway. A scourge of anger briefly passes through young Maz's mind, but it floats away as a distant memory- why would you hate Re'laizary, anyway?

You're both sitting together in your shared bedchamber, a pair of lavish matresses mounted on extravagant golden frames across the room from each other. Everything about the residence screams wealth- but you're quite accustomed to it.

"Hey," Maz absent-mindedly returns, confused. What was she doing just now?

Dimly, memory shifts back. It's your birthday- and Re'laizary's too. A great feast is being planned for later in the day, one to celebrate your coming-of-age- and Re'laizary's, too. For the most part, however, you've both been left alone to do as you please, anyhow, and so far, today has been no exception. Experience has taught you, though, that it can be... dangerous... to attract the eye of your more capricious family members.

"Know what's going to happen tonight? Father's planning something big.. well, for you." There's a hint of a sigh, there.

"I hope it's a book," Maz tells her, lying back on the bed, her eyes studying the ceiling idly. "If it is, I might let you read it," she adds, the tips of her lips quirking.

"I can't even read, yet," sulks Relly, staring at the wall. "They always teach you everything, first."

"Well, the pictures might be pretty?" Maz tries, shrugging.

"I guess. At least you're nice enough to care," she continues, mumbling slightly. "Father never even looks at me, unless he's yelling at me."

"He may call you a Spawn of Evil, but I think it might be a nickname," Maz tells her, a bit of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"I'd believe it, at this point," whispers Re'Laizary. "They never let us outside anymore, and they never tell us what's going on. They just.. point and yell. To me. I wish I could get out of here..."

"We will, some day," Maz says with conviction. "Once we're old... er."

"Then we'll go out like they do in those books you read," replies Re'Laizary, with equal conviction.

"Yeah, that would be fun. I'll show the world that ice is way cooler than fire! They'll all see it... yes, they will...." While Maz speaks, a smile appears on her face, growing larger as she imagines her adventuring days.

"Wouldn't they already know?" relpies Re'Laizary, sounding confused. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Apparently not," Maz says with no small amount of anger in her voice. "The books are always fire this, fire that, fire gift from gods. Feh!"

"What's so great about ice, anyway?" replies Re'Laizary, shivering a little. "It's, like, cold."

"Well." Maz blinks, not having been challenged on this subject by her sister before. "I think it's overlooked. If I make you a sculpture from ice, you can hold and play with it, right? But fire would just burn through your gloves. So that's bad."

"But fire cooks meat for you," replies Re'Laizary, blinking. "And it keeps you warm during winter. Ice just melts, unless it's so cold that you didn't need it anyway."

"And that's where magic comes in!" Maz exclaims, catapulting herself off the bed and bouncing around the room excitedly. "It's so easy to use fire, it's like fire has the home advantage. It's everywhere, every loser with a spellbook can use it! But ice, ice takes work. And when it does work, it's got a whole lot more uses! You could use it to attack people, but you can use it to help yourself and your friends, too!"

Relly goes silent a moment at this, just staring at the wall a moment, gloomily. "I can't think of any," she says, sadly.

"That's what the adventuring is for, silly!" Maz chastises her. "It's very obvious from all the books that the people you travel with are your bestest friends for life! And there would be plenty of time to think of useful extra-icy spells." Her voice drops to a near whisper as she moves closer to her sister. "I saw one I don't think I was supposed to the other day. It mentioned a wall of ice to protect yourself or another with. That sounded really neat!"

"Would you protect me, Al'Maz?" asks Relly, sounding slightly cheerful, again. "Even if nobody told you to?"

"Sure!" Maz agrees readily. "You're going to be the first one in my adventuring party, after all!"

"I'll be an expert archer," says Relly, pulling back an imaginary bowstring. "I won't let anything get close enough for that wall!"

"And if anyone does, they'll be a popsicle," Maz says, dissolving into giggles. "Hmm," she says suddenly. "A spell to make popsicles. I can see a demand for that one. Maybe if I sold it to some desert country...."

The two of you giggle away momentarily, but your humour is short-lived as your bedroom door slams open, your father stalking inside. Wearing a regal cloak, red-skinned, and fearsome horns atop his head, he's an aloof but cold-hearted figure- one who frequently checks up on Al'Maz's studies, but seems to care not a whit for anything else about her.

"Hello, Father," Maz says shyly, her laughter forgotten.

He glances at you momentarily, before his gaze sweeps away to Re'Laizary, who pointedly looks away. "Re'Lai," he says, and you detect an unusual hint of affection in his voice. "It's time to go." Your sibling glances at you for a second, gaze suddenly intense. "We'll protect each other, right?" she says, softly, taking a step towards your parent.

Maz nods at her, not taking her eyes off their father.

She walks out the door, not even glancing at daddy as she leaves. He looks at you, though, sternly. "You're to be on your best behaviour tonight," he says, archly. "I won't tolerate any foolishness. Dress appropriately."

Maz stands straighter, and manages a nod, not trusting herself to talk without squeaking. He may be her father, but he always seems to intimidating and larger than life....

He walks towards you, cupping your face in his hand, pulling it up and forcing you to look him straight in the eye- even if you were already, the close-up view is disconcerting.

"I-I will, Father!" she swears.

"You will," he replies, deep voice echoing through the room. "No foolishness." He lets you go, and abruptly turns away to walk after Re'Laizary, the marble corridor looming beyond...


<--------->

Maz is left alone in her room with her father departing, a whirl of emotions whizzing through her head, perhaps. Tonight, there is a great dinner, followed by her coming-of-age ceremony- one that she knows none of the details of, the chaotic tanar'ri nature inherent to her tiefling family showing through, here.

Trying to put the memory of her father, so close and menacing next to her, Maz goes through her wardrobe, trying to find something suitably formal, but which would let her move easily if she wears it.

Exotic clothing from across the world stands in Maz's wardrobe, most of which she knows how to put on; dresses, suits, elaborate noble wear, ridiculously low-cut drow clothing, strange kimonos from the far east, rashemi witch clothing.. all of it shares a common theme; to make the wearer seem bigger, and more intimidating, at least as far as a 6-year-old girl can be.

Maz's eyes linger on the drow clothing, before she continues towards the dresses.

A million different styles to choose from, again, all meant to make Maz seem larger-than-life.

Frowning, she ends up picking one of the newer formal dresses, colors matching the outfit her father was wearing earlier.

It comes with a large cloak, and a nasty curved dagger that's attached to the outside of the clothes; a ceremonial thing, more than anything.

Maz pats the dagger, happy that she won't need to spend any time accessorizing, and retreats to sit back on her bed, feet dangling in the air. She drops back, keeping her eyes on the ceiling, and wonders what the coming of age ceremony would be. It wouldn't be very fun to wrestle a troll, especially in these clothes, she muses to herself.

Maybe not. Time seems to drift by, seconds drifting into minutes drifting into hours. The room is unusually silent without Relly. With nobody to talk to, and little to do, it's just.. boring.

After a while, though, there's a knock on your door. "Mistress, it is time," comes a submissive voice- one of the human slaves, no doubt.

Ready, as she had been for hours, Maz takes a moment to check her hair and smoothen out any wrinkles in her dress and cloak, before stepping outside.

The human slave- a faceless woman, you've seen her and many like her every day since you were born- leads you through the marble corridors of your families mansion. The walls are decorated with images of demons and undead; to someone else, it would be a hellish fort, a place of foul evil- but to you, it is home.

Maz simply follows the slave, keeping her gait steady despite her nervousness.

You are eventually taken to the grand dining hall, a vast room filled with a huge table; a giant square, covered with food and surrounded by... what some might call people. Tieflings and half-fiends surround the place, each of the horrific creatures giving you a curious glance as you are lead to the head of the table. Giant wings, horns, the stench of brimstone, fangs, odd-coloured skin, scaled- all of this combines into a tangible feeling of evil as you walk through... but, really, what else is new? You're taken to the front of the table next to your father, who reclines in a high-backed chair, his mighty sword on his belt, as he tucks into a meal of... something. "Welcome, my daughter," he growls at you.

"I am here as requested, Father," she replies formally, and keeps her head facing forward.

"It's good to be serious," he says, suddenly- a compliment, from him? "Today is the most important day of your life.. so, take your seat-" he gestures- "And partake. It could be the last day, as well."

Maz isn't sure she likes the sound of that, and she barely stops herself from displaying any outwards signs of the shiver that goes all the way through her spine. She bows before her father, if a bit stiffly, and takes a seat next to him, her hands gathered in her lap.

You're sitting between your father and.. something. Best not to dwell on it too much. Re'Laizary, however, is nowhere to be seen. A plate of meat is put before you, along with a glass of blood-red wine.

Maz can't help throwing a quick glance at her father. Then, she takes a deep breath and eats some of the meat, sipping the wine next to help wash it down.

The wine is very strong and cloying- you feel it dulling your senses, dulling your mind. The dinner becomes a sort of twisted nightmare, blurring before your eyes, a morass of talking and smells and sights and sounds. Are those ones eating humanoid meat? Was that a cry, a yell, or a scream? You can't tell...

Maz blinks suddenly blurry eyes, trying to fight off the effects of what has to be the wine she drank.

It's hard. You need to focus on something to steady your mind, but what?

Maz fishes for something... ice! Ice is cold, and cold has to beat back the fire spreading through her....

A tinge in your body, perhaps, your blood literally running cold in your skin as you try to fight back the wine. As your senses regain stability, you realise that the entire room has stopped talking. Total silence is the norm, every face looking at you.

Maz puts on an expression she had seen her father wear many times in the past. A mask of cold indifference and casualness, with a touch of superiority and arrogance, and a dash of cruelty shining in her eyes.

Your father glances at you, a slight smirk in his face as he stands up, flourishing his cape. "Behold!" he announces to the room. "Al'Maz Nebes, my daughter!" You're definately special, today. "You peons will pay your respect!" Grudgingly, most of the people about the table start to bow, slowly. Frowns and grimaces abound.. but they *are* bowing.

Maz kinda likes having peons, even creepy ones like those, but she keeps those thoughts to herself as she observes them with her casual indifference. Meanwhile, she waits for some sort of explanation, certain that her father is bound to tell her what just happened if she played along for now.

"Today, she reaches the age of 6," he goes on, as if this is some great achievement. "As anyone in our.. group.. who reaches such an age is clearly blessed-" there's an ironic chuckle about the room, at those words- "-it is, as you know, seen as a time fitting for the coming-of-age, and the embrace of our true nature!" He turns and points at you. "As of right now, you are an adult!"

She nods at him. "Yes, Father."

"So, now, you must burn off the remnants of your childhood," he whispers. The sound of great doors opening lurches out behind you...

Maz stands up, pushing her chair back slowly, and turns around. She tries not to rush things and keep her expression neutral, her father's earlier warning to be on her best behavior everpresent in her mind.

A temple, so it seems, looms in front, rows of pews leading up to an altar, covered with a sheet. "Go," he says, gesturing towards it.

"Yes, Father," Maz repeats, opting to stick to the basics until she can find out more about the situation she found herself in, and walks up to the altar.

As you walk through the temple, you can't help but feel an unnatural chill (not one of the nicer ones) as you step through, black shadows seeming to gather around you and cloak your movement as you approach the profane, yet holy altar. A dim light of magical torches more accentuates the darkness than really clears your vision, as you reach the alter.. wait, it's a closed coffin, a sheet draped over it. Not an altar at all...

Maz turns her head back to look at her father, barely stopping herself from exclaiming something out loud.

A cruel smile plays across his face. "Open it. And cast off what remains of your youth.. and your weakness."

Maz turns back towards the coffin, and tugs on the sheet, letting it pool on the floor at the coffin's side. Then, taking a deep breath, she latches both hands to its top, trying to open it.

The coffin opens easily, wooden frame creaking open easily, to reveal... a 6-year-old girl, slightly red-tinged skin, dressed in funerary garb- red robes and a red veil. Your sister lies there, still as death, eyes closed. The knife on your dress starts to hum, slightly...

Maz's eyes widen, and she's glad she isn't facing her father and his guests as there is no way she would have concealed the expression of shock on her face. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, she thinks with a sense of unnatural detachment.

What if it's a test? Could she afford to fail it and her father?

One lone voice somewhere in the rear starts chanting a word, repeatedly, so softly that you almost don't hear it. "Akasha"... the Abyssal word, for "Sacrifice." Others begin to join in, the chant building in volume, urging you on...

Maz reaches out and pokes Relly's cheek, her hand shaking.

Re'Laizary doesn't move at all. Is she already dead? Her skin is cold and pale.

"Akasha! Akasha! Akasha!" Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice! It grows to a cacophony, sound blocking out everything else, becoming a loud element of background noise!

Maz retreats her hand as if she was burned, running it through her hair. Her cloak's hood drops, letting her hair out. Her other hand finds the humming dagger at her side, and draws it in a quick motion.

The chant builds into a frenzy, accompanied by feet-stomping, a repetitive rhythm, urging and forward! Your fathers voice echoes out above it all, a powerful impetus- "Do it!" he yells, a voice of command that has never previously been ignored!

She's still alive if she's to be a _sacrifice_, Maz realizes. Hoping she's not making the wrong decision, she turns around swiftly, pointing the dagger at her father and his guests. Her body shakes like a leaf, but she glares defiantly at them, yelling, "No!" as she recalls the promise she made to Relly just hours earlier, the memory giving her strength.

Silence looms ahead, a thousand faces staring at Relly. Your father's grinning face drops, instantly, a flare of indefinable anger raging across his face. He raises a finger, pointing at you- black energy crackles on the tip, energy that you have seen flay a man alive- "I have only one daughter," he whispers, yet you can hear it from the coffin. "You're the one who chooses who, Al'Maz."

"I-I'm an adult now," she stammers, supporting the dagger's hilt with her other hand. "I don't have to do what you tell me anymore. I'm making all the choices, now! And you can't have her!" Maz's voice picks up towards the end.

"An adult who makes the wrong choice is a dead adult," replies your father, staring at you, any semblance of familil pride forgotten. "And even adults remain subordinates. Have you truly made your choice?"

"Relly's _my_ subordinate," Maz returns, repeating, "You can't have her!"

A roar of laughter escapes his throat, collapsing into a mad, insane giggle. "Your subordinate? That which was once a corpse? You know, I'll grant your wish!" he yells, anger crossed with mirth! He points a finger at you, and instead of black energy, white energy pours forth, controlling your body like a marionette! Your body turns around, forced by unseen strings, drawing the dagger, raising it over Relly's chest!

Maz fights off her father's control, throwing all of her willpower at it. The idea of her sister dead is unacceptable, and she uses that certainty to fuel her struggles.

You're staring at Relly again, but.. her eyes are open, she is breathing! She's not moving, though, merely staring up at you! A tiny plead echoes across her lips, frightened but hopeful. "Sister, please?" she whispers, and you realise that she cannot know your father is exercising control over your body. "We promised..."

Tears come to Maz's eyes, and she redoubles her struggles against her father.

But your will is for naught, despite your brave words. Your dagger slowly plunges towards your sisters chest, drawing a slight amount of blood... like a dream, you see your own hands, controlled by another, push it all the way in, your sisters face choking between surprise and agony, her mouth forming a slight O as she looks up at you, plaintively... painfully...

...hatefully.

You feel your father's control even extending over your face, your lips drawn back into a smile that you know is cruel- a sneer, the only hint to your true feelings perhaps the tears starting to fall. The coffin lid slams shut of it's own accord, and you hear the snap of locks on it- suddenly, you feel your father's control released, your body returning to you.

Snarling, her fangs unveiled fully, Maz charges her father, drawing the dagger back and finally lunging with it aimed at his neck.

He casually backhands you across the room, and you collapse in a pile on the floor nearby, dagger trailing down your dress and leaving a red trail across it. All around you hear the sound of laughter, cruel mockery echoing through the vast chamber. Unconciousness is a blessed relief from this torture, when it finally comes...

<-80sspecialeffects!->

...and your eyes blink open with a start, returned from the horror of the room to the oddly comforting heat of the hot desert sun. Despite it, though, your body is cold all over, and you feels your hands shaking and sweating, even now.

Hatred comes to Maz like a second nature, driving all else from her mind while she struggles to regain control of her faculties.

Your body is all yours, again.. and you think the same for your mind, at any rate.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, and rakes her memory for the event. Had it really happened the same way as in her dream? Hadn't Relly died in her dream, when she was clearly alive in the real world?

Death isn't always the end, in this world... and your family was certainly well off, and well connected enough to have access to powerful clerics. You find that your mind is actually incredibly hazy from the years before your 7th.. only dim memories of moving out of home come to mind, from your father to a branch house of your family. As far as your natural memories state, you and Relly were always at each others throats...

She would have to proceed carefully, Maz muses. It could be just a mirage, an image of what 'could have been', perhaps trying to get her to lower her guard when she faces Relly next. Or it could be true, which would mean....

She does puzzle at something she recalls her father saying. Relly 'was once a corpse'? Whatever could he mean, she wonders.

As Maz tries to puzzle out what's true, and what's false, she sees something glint in the sand beneath her feet.

Blinking, she reaches out and carefully brushes the sand off the glinting object, trying to get a clear look at it.

It's a curved dagger, just resting in the sand.. but when your hand brushes over it, you feel it hum, slightly.

Her first instinct is to recoil, but Maz overrides it, taking it in her hand and observing its blade.

It's pretty familiar, and though you don't know much about blades, it looks to be finely made.

Clenching her hand firmly around the hilt, Maz stands up, and places it at a sheathe. Leaving the chore of packing her things for later, she heads to search for the small elven girl she talked to the other evening.

She's awake, digging into a hard breakfast of rations and water.

Maz sits down next to her, observing the girl silently for several long moments. "Does that taste good?" she asks at last.

"No. Want some?" she asks, taking a long swig from her waterskin, and grimacing.

"I've had my share of badness already," Maz retorts with a matching grimace. "So," she continues without further preamble, "was the dream I saw true?"

"I look into the future, and that fountain gazes towards the past," replies the girl. "But only towards painful memories."

"Do you see a way for me to find out for certain, then?" Maz tries, cocking her head.

"I already said what I saw of you," replies the girl, irritably. "You could ask your sister, I guess."

"I guess," Maz echoes her. "Don't suppose you saw her nearby, some time in the not-so-distant future?"

"I never know how far into the future things are," whispers the girl. "I wish I could."

"Ah," Maz says dejectedly. "Maybe you will, with time."

"It's not something I saw, at any time," replies the girl. "Hey. What's your name?"

"Al'Maz Nebes," she responds, not seeing a need to hide it from the kid. "But we should probably keep it beween us. Just call me Maz."

"Maz, is it?" she replies, nodding. "I'll remember that name."

Maz nods, and with a wave makes her way back to her things, preparing for her daily ritual of meditation.

<-End->

[Corwin]

[00:41] <@Carthrat> <->
[00:42] <@Carthrat> The caravan plods along, Kethean alone on his horse a moment to contemplate. Another horse rides up next to him shortly, a hooded young child mounted on a pony, glancing at Kethean with a raised eyebrow. "Hello," comes a childish voice, and you can make out an elven face under that hood.
[00:48] * @Kethean looks down at the greeting, and smiles. "Hello," he replies in kind.
[00:49] <@Carthrat> "You shouldn't play with things you don't understand," says the child, staring at a pair of nunchuku on Kethean's belt. "It's bad for you, especially when it doesn't belong to you."
[00:51] * @Kethean blinks, and looks at the child seriously when realizing he's looking at the nunchukus liberated from that shadow monastary. "What do you mean?"
[00:53] <@Carthrat> "I *mean* that it's not good for the hand that twists the skein of fate to hold the weapon of darkness," replies the child, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "Honestly."
[00:55] <@Kethean> "This weapon has helped save my life and those of my companions, however. How is it a weapon of darkness?" the monk asks. If it truly is a weapon of darkness though...
[00:56] <@Carthrat> The child blinks at this. "Well... I thought it was one," she replies, glancing at it. "Can I have a look?"
[00:57] * @Kethean thinks it over, and nods slowly. If she merely wished to steal it, it should be a simple matter to catch up to a child. Handing it over, he says, "Feel free."
[00:58] <@Carthrat> The child takes the nunchuku from Kethean, the wooden blocks still glowing brightly in her hands. Looking over them, she pauses a moment. "That's not right," she says, before closing her eyes... and, suddenly, the nunchuku erupt with a dark, but heatless flame! The child opens her eyes, and nods with satisfaction.
[01:00] * @Kethean stares with wide eyes. "What the..."
[01:01] <@Carthrat> She hands it back to you, nodding. "That's right. That's how they're fated to be, in the end. I saw it, and I'm never wrong."
[01:02] <@Kethean> "Who are you?" Kethean asks slowly as he takes back the nunchukus. The weapon might require a bit more looking into given this event.
[01:03] <@Carthrat> The nunchuku don't hurt as Kethean takes them back, but they feel... off.. somehow. "I'm Elmyra," replies the girl, staring at Kethean. "And you're the fate-spinner."
[01:06] * Thrall is now known as Usagi
[01:07] * Usagi is now known as Thrall
[01:09] <@Kethean> "I see. Then Elmyra, could you explain how I might be this fate-spinner? While I am a servant to Savras' will, I cannot say that the fates are mine to spin," the monk asks. This is not an ordinary child.
[01:10] <@Carthrat> "Well, do you control your own fate?" asks Elymra, staring at you. "At all? The tiniest bit?"
[01:11] * @Kethean laughs. "Well, that's true enough. All men control their own fates at least."
[01:11] <@Carthrat> "That's a lie, though," replies Elmyra, nodding. "Otherwise, who needs a god of fate? Since you worship him, though, you're the one who sees where things go, ultimately."
[01:17] * Serith (~iron_drag@c-67-163-114-219.hsd1.tx.comcast.net) Quit (Ping timeout)
[01:23] * Anastasia is now known as Kotono
[01:26] * Thrall is now known as Usagi
[01:38] * Serith (~iron_drag@c-67-163-114-219.hsd1.tx.comcast.net) has joined #dunes
[01:38] * ChanServ sets mode: +v Serith
[01:54] <@Kethean> "I suppose that's a valid opinion. Another, however, is that we merely seek all truths, including the fate that men make for themselves," Kethean answers. "As to seeing where things ultimately go, that is only by Savras' will. I'm not all seeing, I'm afraid."
[01:56] <@Carthrat> "You should be," replies Elmyra. "Your power comes from the womb of time itself, and to not know where your actions take you is the path of folly. Until you enter the doors of bone, your choices are wrought in misery. That is what I saw for you, fatespinner."
[02:00] <@Kethean> "How would I find these doors of bone then?" he asks, looking curious.
[02:00] <@Carthrat> "You'll wind up there eventually," replies Elmyra. "You're the servant of fate, you tell *me*. I just see things. And that's what I saw."
[02:05] * @Kethean sighs. "I see. Well, thank you for the information regardless..."
[02:07] <@Carthrat> "You don't see. I see," replies the girl, clarifying that important point. "You'll see if you sleep by the fountain, tonight, though."
[02:10] * @Kethean frowns at the blunt statement, but nods.
[12:14] <@Carthrat> "I think, anyway," she goes on, musing. "The past determines the future, right? So it's important, right?"
[12:15] * Kotono is now known as Ko-dinner
[12:15] <@Kethean> "To some degree," Kethean agrees.
[12:16] <@Carthrat> "Not that I can really tell you more than you already know," muses the girl, starting to walk away.
[12:24] <@Carthrat> The night rapidly closes in. Where will Kethean make camp tonight?
[12:25] <@Kethean> "Crazy cheeky kids," Kethean mutters with a shake of his head as he looks around for a good spot to set up his things.
[12:25] <@Carthrat> Thrall and Maz were setting up near that stone well. At any rate, most of the caravan stays well away from it. There's not much in the way of shade or the like about here, so one place is as good as any other.
[12:26] <@Kethean> Figuring he might as well stay near his companions, Kethean goes set up his tent close by them.
[12:27] <@Carthrat> By the time you get there, they're already sleeping. Odd, that. They don't look well, either... both of them squirm in their sleep, and their faces look positively sickly.
[12:31] * @Kethean frowns, and leaves his things in a pile for a moment, as he moves quietly towards them, hoping to give them a brief look over to see if they've gotten sick, given their appearance.
[12:32] <@Carthrat> Maybe a light fever? It doesn't look too serious.. after all, these are the same sort of things you see when people have particularly awful dreams.
[12:33] * @Kethean decides to leave them be if it is only a matter of nightmares, and goes back to setting up, though trying to make as little noise as humanly possible so as not to disrupt their sleep.
[12:35] <@Carthrat> Their sleep is almost surreal, completely uninterupted by anything you do. The well is strange, though- as you set up around it, you notice that it's completely empty, but it's like you can hear a slight trickle of water coming from it, anyhow.
[12:41] * Seraphin (E-Team@71-34-21-16.mpls.qwest.net) has joined #dunes
[12:41] * ChanServ sets mode: +ao Seraphin Seraphin
[12:43] * @Kethean might have considered detecting for magic, but unfortunately, he had not had a chance to prepare the spell, so he might as well deal with the mystery tomorrow.
[12:46] <@Carthrat> As Seraphin considers getting ready to go and camp, she notes that her companions have already gathered around a stony well, that juts straight out of the sand like a stubby finger. You can see Thrall and Maz already sleeping by it, but Kethean is still awake, and walking around it, curiously.
[12:47] * @Seraphin wanders over that way, pausing near Kethean. "Something up?" she asks the monk she hardly speaks to. Well, he's also a cleric, and even if he's been nice so far...she and clerics don't have the best history.
[12:50] <@Kethean> "Hrm? Oh not much. Just a bit of a mystery since I seem to hear water trickling from the well despite the lack of water there. Our friends seem to be having some bad dreams too, though I didn't think I should wake them," Kethean replies as he looks towards Seraphin.
[12:54] <@Seraphin> "Oh," Seraphin blinks, shrugging. "Maybe the water's farther underground and echoing up this way?" she suggests, not really paying it mind as she begins to set up camp against the well wall. It'll keep her back covered at least.
[13:01] * @Kethean gives his own shrug as he finishes setting up his camp. "Quite possible. Do you need a hand with anything, or shall I go ahead and turn in?"
[13:02] <@Seraphin> "Go ahead, I've done this plenty," Seraphin assures absnetly, continuing to go about her work.
[13:03] * @Kethean nods and heads into his tent to sleep. "Sleep well then," he offers.
[13:03] <@Seraphin> "You too," Seraphin returns, reflexively polite as she settles in to sleep herself.
[13:04] <@Carthrat> It doesn't take long to go to sleep, Kethean finds, the sandman practically drifting over him as soon as he closes his eyes...
[13:04] <@Carthrat> <-Starburst transition! #evil, Ser.)
[13:06] <@Carthrat> Dimly, in Kethean's vision, he feels his faculties return in a dreamlike state. Dimly, before him, he can see his families old farmstead, a solid stone and wooden building that has stood for god-knows-how-long, his once-home but never again, a place where none recognized him after his training.
[13:09] * @Kethean walks around curiously, looking for anybody, and wondering if this is some sort of vision after the elven child's reference to Savras.
[13:10] * @Seraphin (E-Team@71-34-21-16.mpls.qwest.net) has left #dunes
[13:11] <@Carthrat> The vision seems to shake slightly as Kethean walks forward, emphasising just how unreal this situation is. There's nobody about the farm, nobody working- there's no sound, no movement, no anything. He reaches the house itself, and sees something wrong, instantly- the door lies askew, hanging off it's hinges.
[13:12] * @Kethean frowns and rushes in, looking around, searching for anything important to point at what's happened.
[13:14] <@Carthrat> The tableware is broken, and stains of blood cover the hardwood floor. You can see one of your older sisters lying across the floor, her throat slit.
[13:30] <@Kethean> '...What has happened here?' he thinks as he kneels by his sister's body with a bit of regret. 'Anastasia...who did this?' he wonders.
[13:31] <@Carthrat> Your sister is completely still, but you see a trail of blood leading from her body to another room. The bedrooms, where your older sister, your baby brother, and your parents would stay. Times were hard and there were few bedrooms.. but, you recall, you all did well enough.
[13:36] * @Kethean follows the trail, almost dreading what he'll find.
[22:15] <@Carthrat> You walk across the room, the trail of blood leading into a plain bedroom. Amongst the static grey and brown of thr furniture and walls, you make out four bodies lying on a bed, covered with a woolen blanket.
[22:17] <@Kethean> Given Anastasia's body earlier, it's likely whose bodies he'll find, but he still moves towards the bodies, pulling gingerly the blanket.
[22:17] <@Carthrat> "Don't," comes a voice from behind you.
[22:25] * @Kethean turns around rapidly, easily sliding into a ready stance. "Who's there?"
[22:27] <@Carthrat> A green-skinned angel stands there, beautiful beyond mortality. Wearing naught but a simple robe, she leans against the wall, glancing at the covers. "A messenger, from the lord of fate," she replies, lilting voice beautiful, even in the horror of this scene. "You sleep near the fountain of memory, yet the past is not what you must study. The future, and possible futures- like this- are where your mind will go from now."
[22:33] * @Kethean nods slowly, searching his memory for the name of any green-skinned angels in the service of Savras. "So I shall be having nightly visions of things that might come to pass then?"
[22:35] <@Carthrat> "Not quite," replies the angel. As far as you can recall, there were very few celestials in Savras' service.. very few anything in Savras' service. You'd think that would make this one special, but nothing comes to mind. "As this fountain is a juncture to other places in time, it was a simple matter to twist it towards this future for the Lord." She glances at you. "This is the future that will come to pass if you are reunited peacefully with your brother."
[22:36] <@Carthrat> peacefully with your brother."
[22:38] * @Kethean frowns. "Please explain," he requests.
[22:40] <@Carthrat> "The path you follow now takes you to that which holds Mystra's strength intact," states the angel, and the vision arounds you shifts... into a giant room, a single, giant crystal set in the middle, surrounded by magical circles and runes that orbit it softly, glowing greenly. "The Sharrans travel here, to sunder the weave and release magical power throughout this continent.. magical energy that will lead to further strife and chaos in this world."
[22:40] <@Carthrat> strife and chaos in this world." (More)
[22:41] <@Carthrat> "The fates grow murky shortly beyond, but your family's destruction is a surity amongst them."
[22:45] <@Kethean> "Because I try to stop these Sharrans with my companions? Or because I hunt for my brother? I...I do not understand," the monk admits.
[22:47] <@Carthrat> "Hunting your brother, hunting these Sharrans.. one and the same," replies the angel. "One and the same."
[22:51] * @Kethean frowns and eyes the angel warily. "...My brother with the Sharrans?" he asks, not being able to wrap his mind around that concept. His brother had always gone on and on about what he'd do with his future. Being a cultist didn't quite fit with any of those plans.
[22:52] <@Carthrat> "Reality changes all men," states the angel, reading your mind. "Some bend. Some buckle. Others break."
[23:00] <@Kethean> "I see...though if as you said, the Sharrans are messing with the weave, I cannot stand idly...even if it puts my family at risk," Kethean replies after a while.
[23:01] <@Carthrat> "As you say. I make no judgement on your morals," states the angel, staring at you hardly. "I only set forth the truth. Be true to thineself, young monk."
[23:07] <@Kethean> "I will," is Kethean's reply, as he looks grimly. "I only hope that this vision of the future is not as much a surety as you say, however."
[23:08] <@Carthrat> "The future is never certain," replies the angel, as the area about you begins to fade away. "Only so likely that it may as well be."
[23:09] <@Carthrat> Shortly, the dream fades away, leaving Kethean in an empty slumber... until he awakes, the bright desert morning before him. Thrall, Seraphin, and Maz have already awoken, this morning, gathered around the well themselves.
[23:10] <@Kethean> "Thank you," Kethean says as the angel and the area begins to fade. At the very least, he won't be shocked if he sees his brother fighting now. Dissapointed maybe, but not surprised. Important if they should meet in a fight.