Oneiroscope on 22/12/2004 at 08:30
{OOC: Great stuff, Acorn! :thumb: }
"Sir Oliver" Undu said as he watched the fat knight eat. "Sir, may I ask a question?" When Oliver nodded, Undu scanned the room at a slow pace. The dark warrior peered into every shadow, as if expecting to find the assassin there.
"When Gode told you of our plan to erase your memories, I sensed something odd in your thoughts." Oliver looked up from his meal and arched an eyebrow.
"Forgive me, Sir Oliver." Undu shrugged. "But a Keeper has much cause for caution that may seem... excessive. And you will understand, I hope, that the privacy even of a most esteemed ally such as yourself may seem secondary when weighed against the gravity of our present circumstances."
Oliver drank and then cleared his throat. "I understand, though I cannot say I approve. Please continue. What struck you as odd?"
"To be blunt, your lack of apprehension. Not a shimmer of concern did I detect. In fact, there seemed some slight amusement."
Oliver's lips parted briefly in what might have been a sly grin. "You are the Minder, Undu. Can you not divine the cause?"
Undu began pacing the room. "No, Sir Oliver. It does not work like that. Reading thoughts is not the clear and easy thing you make it out to be. The mind is a forest, a constellation, a sea. I can pick out what shines brightest, grows tallest, or swims into the shallows, but what lies within is lost in a maze of mirrors." Undu stopped his agitated movements and sighed. "Forgive me, Sir Oliver. If you would rather not speak of it, then I will forget my questions."
"That would perhaps be best." Oliver wiped his lips with the napkin and laid it again on his knee.
"It is only that I feel the pain this causes you, milord." Undu was now across the table from Oliver, his earnest eyes on the knight's. "It is a deep and old pain, is it not?"
"Yes, Undu. It is an old pain. And none of your concern. I do not wish to discuss this further." The knight kept his hands under the table and his thoughts on his words.
"A pity." Undu said. For an endless moment the two regarded each other. Undu's hand casually resting on the pommel of his sheathed scimitar, Oliver's on the hilt of the great flamberge under the table.
Suddenly Undu relaxed and smiled. "It is only curiosity, of course." He chuckled. "Sir Oliver, for a moment I thought you might kill me."
Oliver's answering laugh did not reach his eyes. "So did I."
----------------------------
Levent hurled himself out of the Portal and shrieked as daylight seared him. He was a comet of smoke and flame, careening into trees and howling. The pain was unbearable. He was blind. His skin was caking off of him in charred flakes. His tongue was swelling rapidy, filling his mouth and choking off his agonized bellows.
He slammed again into a tree, this time so forcefully that he fell backwards into bracken. His disintegrating hands flailed about him, heedless of the long thorns amid the all consuming fire of the light. Wait. There, just there. It was cool in this little patch. What was it? Was it water? He couldn't tell. His nerves were destroyed. He only felt that here the merciless furnace of the sun was less.
With a choked, mewling cry he crawled on his belly toward the dark. Blessed, blessed, cool, beautiful dark. For a moment he could only shudder in relief as the burning of the light gave way to the delicious cool of this shadowed place, then his injuries and his delayed day torpor took him almost instantly and he slept deeply.
Oneiroscope on 4/1/2005 at 05:01
As Garrett charged, a flashbomb flew from his off hand and landed at Acorn's feet. Acorn threw up her arm to shield her eyes and dropped prone just before the thief's longsword howled through the air where her neck had been only a heartbeat before.
Her heart in her throat, Acorn rolled over and then sprang up and began to run. Her mind was blank with shock.
She hazarded a look back, but Garrett was gone. She knew the thief well enough to guess he was merely using his greatest weapon, his stealth. The look on his pale face in the moment before he had tried for her life had been enough to tell her that he would not have simply fled. He wanted her dead.
Acorn stopped her mad rush, lest she run headlong into Garrett. The thief was incredibly fast. Even without a speed potion she had seen him cover ground in a heartbeat. He could easily have gotten ahead of her and be waiting even now in some convenient shadow.
Kestril must know what was happening. Acorn imagined the two maneuvering in the shadows of the forest around her. She might not see either of them until Garrett's arrow found her throat. He brought her doom, the lich had said. Did that mean she was destined to die?
Perhaps it would be best to find a place to hide. Yes, that seemed wisest. She would find a hole somewhere and prepare a spell. She would wait, and if she saw Garrett she would trap him in bonds of ice and try to make him see reason. At least, if she saw him first. If she didn't, well, she would be dead.
Acorn found a small depression behind the roots of a great ash that had toppled over long ago. The warm smell of the earth and decaying wood was comforting at least.
Acorn concentrated and prepared the spell. At a moment's notice she could cast it. Was she hidden well enough? Acorn wished she had thought to wear darker garments. A nice dark brown, perhaps. Too late to worry now.
She heard a twig snap somewhere nearby. Then silence dragged on for an age. Acorn swallowed painfully, her mouth dry.
Suddenly she heard rapid footsteps in the leaf litter. The ring of steel on steel. A grunt of pain. More running footsteps.
"Garrett!" Kestril's voice called out, his voice tight with pain. "Damn you, Garrett!"
A bird flew up, startled by the commotion. A creature somewhere chittered in consternation.
Acorn watched, sweat beading on her brow. Kestril was hurt. She was sure of it. He might be bleeding to death. She gritted her teeth. Why? Why was Garrett doing this? Had he been seduced by the Stone? As Fern had?
What of the girls? If Garrett HAD gone over, might he harm the girls?
Lost in her worried ruminations, Acorn almost failed to notice that a shadow near her hand had moved. By the direction of the sunlight, she inferred that whatever cast it was above and behind her hiding place. Someone or something was moving slowly over the log behind her.
Acorn watched the shadow and listened. She heard an intake of breath. The almost silent crackle of sinew and the slightest moan of wood under stress. He eyes shot wide and she vaulted out of her hiding place.
There was a TWANG! and a broadhead scraped along her ribs and sank into the soft black earth. Acorn rolled, crashing through a bramble. She heard Garrett curse, then the unmistakable sound of unsheathed steel.
Acorn stood and faced him. He was a crouching silhouette atop the log, the longsword a long and deadly shadow. Garrett jumped, disappearing into the corona of the sun, and meaning to cleave her skull in twain as he landed. Acorn screamed and cast blindly, hoping to catch him in the air.
Acorn on 6/1/2005 at 05:14
She missed.
Lady Acorn heard the thud of the blow of her casting land solidly against the bulky shape of a tree somewhere ahead in the prizmatic solar glare, then the sound of ice beginning to spread and harden into the bark. The woman shrank back in defeat, her arm raised up in belated defense awaiting the fall of Garrett's arcing blade, but the chime of steel against steel and a grunt in Kestrel's voice above her broke through her momentary panic. Acting quickly, Acorn rolled clear, came to her feet and whirled about breathlessly.
The two dark warriors battled in the dim confines of the forest, their skirmish moving this way and that, but mostly turning in her direction through Garrett's crafty sword work and manipulations, then turning aside at the last minute by some artful move from Kestril. Acorn had to keep moving back over and over again just to keep from being speared by a stray thrust from the thief. In the confines of the forest they used trees as blocks and shields, dancing over the terrain as if the roots and stones were no impediment to their light stealthy feet. Acorn was captivated by the sight of this battle between two who were obviously at or very near the top of their special craft. Kestril's blade whirled artfully dipping in at key points to strike, only to be countered with equal adept by Garrett's expert savy and innovative moves.
The thief danced back and melted suddenly into the deeper shadow with a slight rustle where the leaf heavy trees closed in, followed by the Keeper in quick order. Steel rang again through the deep woods.
Acorn stood breathless wondering how to add support to Kestril when leaves crunched like firecrackers in rapid succession behind her. She spun about with alarm arm raised, her hand suffused with the pre-glow of a casting. And the two children barreled into her, grabbing onto her leg and waste.
"Wha!?" she cried out nearly loosing the bolt of power she had prepaired.
"Lady Acorn, make them stop!" the youngest cried out, tightening her vise like grip upon the woman's leg.
"Get back children!" Acorn hissed trying to pry the child's arms from her leg and push the other one away from her so she could move, "Go back to the horses!"
"Acorn!" Kestril suddenly called out from the trees some distance away,
and the pagan sorceress heard the sharp crackle of dead grounded leaves again coming from her left.
Oneiroscope on 8/1/2005 at 05:30
Acorn turned, expecting to see Kestril. Instead her skin crawled as she saw bushes part, pushed roughly aside by nothing. An growl of mad ferocity wakened her from her shock induced stupor.
"Hounds!" Kestril's voice called out again. "Acorn! Hounds!"
Acorn loosed her ice bolt, praying to the Lady of the Green that it would hold the monster long enough to get the children away. The bolt struck home and a clear statue of the creature appeared between the frozen bushes.
A shriek from little Molly announced the arrival of another Hound, but too late for Acorn. She was knocked down again by a terrific impact just as she turned. She felt the coarse cloth of the thing's black robes on her throat. Sudden agony twisted her mouth into a grimace as a barbed blade slashed into her arm.
"Hahaaaaa! MORE prey. More red, red, red blooooood," the thing hissed. Acorn struggled, but it had her pinned and knew it. "Yessss. Too late, pretty."
The Hound bayed and the swamp shook with the horror of a damned and forsaken soul. It became visible, wanting her to see it while it feasted on her living flesh. Its enormous jaws lunged for Acorn's belly.
"NOOOOOOO!" a high-pitched voice squealed. Suddenly the Hound disappeared in a holocaust of flame! It's foul robe erupted into a noxious trail of foul smelling black smoke as it was blasted away and into the depths of the forest.
Acorn did not question her inexplicable deliverance. She rose and saw little Molly weeping hysterically and curled into a ball. Amelie was standing with her mouth open, staring after the destroyed Hound.
"Come!" We must keep moving! We must find Kestril!" Acorn told them sharply. She pulled Molly up sharply. "To the horses!"
Finally Amelie shook herself and helped get Molly up and moving. "The horses are dead. Those... monsters killed them in front of us and told us to run. That's why we came to you. They wanted us to run for sport." She shuddered.
Acorn cursed as they began hurrying through the swamp towards where she had last heard Kestril. "What happened? What hit the Hound?"
Amelie looked at Molly, biting her lip, then at Acorn. "I don't know." The lie was pathetically obvious. Amelie had no real reason to trust Acorn yet. Acorn could not really blame the girl. It had been Molly. Amelie had heard Kestril's misgivings, if Guille somehow lived on in the little girl... Acorn didn't want to believe it. Yet sometimes when sh looked into little Molly's eyes, she saw something... familiar. Something old and hateful.
Perhaps it was only because of Kestril's fears. Perhaps she only saw what she herself dreaded. The same mania and evil she had seen in Fern on hellish night not so long ago. Guille COULD have transferred something of himself into the girl. Part of him COULD be there still. Hiding behind her childish terror and tears. Waiting.
A figure emerged from the shadows before them. A blade was in its hand. Acorn's heart nearly stopped. She raised her hands to cast, then saw it was Kestril.
"Thank heavens!" He cried. "I thought..."
"Where is Garrett?" She demanded, fear still pumping through her like icewater.
Kestril jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I left him back there while I dealt with two more Hounds." Kestril looked distant for a moment, and Acorn realized he was extending his senses. "We'll have to kill the one you froze, but there are no more. It was a small pack. They were 'off the leash', so to speak. Picked up our trail yesterday and decided to have a little fun."
Acorn shuddered. Something in Kestril's voice unnerved her. As if the more he was exposed to Hounds, the less horrified he became at their idea of "fun".
Kestril led them back to Garrett. He was unconscious and lying inside a hollow log, where Kestril had stashed him. Acorn didn't care how Kestril had done it. All she wanted was to rest and eat. A glance upward told her that this little "misunderstanding" had devoured the entire day. Night would be coming soon. And, unless she missed her guess, the dead would come with it. They were close to Bagmoor, now. The Stone's children would be searching for them.
Acorn looked at Molly, who had buried her face in Amelie's shredded dress and was giving forth great sobs and hiccups. Acorn listened. Was she really crying? Or was she laughing? Could Guille be in that tangled mess of hair? Acorn gritted her teeth. They would know soon enough.
Acorn on 8/1/2005 at 21:06
(Er sorry, minor plot glitch here, but they're in the forest.. they've never been in a swamp... Acorn and Kestrel and then Garrett after them were journeying through the forest toward Bagmore. :erm: The swamp is around the tower and Acorn never went there.)
Acorn on 8/1/2005 at 22:48
The last remaining Hound of the pack stamped back over the trail they had used to follow after the Keeper and his dangerous female, it growled sharply when its hevily armord arm was jerked back stubbournly by the animal attached to the lead rope clutched in the Hound's unnaturally strong grip, and the Hound jerked the rope even harder wrenching the animal's head forward so that it would continue to walk. The white horse, still clothed in empty saddle, snorted its irritation aristocraticly but followed--though reluctantly--after its foul smelling captor. It was used to Hardens strange warders and did not spook at the fact that its lead rope appeared to be floating along through the air ahead of its nose clutched by an invisible hand. Its ears pricked up at a sudden close whistling sound and the horse watched a blur of metal arc out of forest shadow and its lead go slack with a disembodied groan as something foul begin to pool outward from an invisible source in the middle of the trail. The animal's nostrils crinkled and it shied from the liquid's stench, trotting off the path farther under the shadow of the forest canopy toward a patch of green grass it noticed with hungry interest was poking its long shoots up through the tangle of a bramble patch. Its nose dropped down and the white horse munched contentedly on the new greens, barely flicking its ears when a cold hand touched its shoulder and a pale, thin yet finely dressed figure of a man bent to gather the dragging rope and secure it to a tree.
"A fine animal, wouldn't you say Fern?" Frobert commented, patting the horse again. "I saw it from the grounds at the Tower and was considering claiming it as compensation for this hellish journey myself before it disapeared from the corral. Who do you suppose took it?" He eyed his charge. The vampire was obviously speaking rhetorically.
"Ga- ..rett." Fern stammered, saying the name though not wanting to say it in his presence, knowing what her master thought of the city bred rogue.
"Ah." Frobert replied slitting his eyes and leaning his shoulder against the horse, one hand slipping to the pommel of his sword, the elder vampire seemed to be focusing on deep inward thoughts and her suspicions brought a shiver to Fern's still heart.
Tromping hoofsteps and snapping twigs sounded in the thicket behind them and Keeper Orson emerged, leading a rather substandard sorrel, wading through the brush across the track and into the cover of the trees where the two vampires stood. His horse, no doubt one of the blunt nosed nags from the Tower's ramshackle corral, was caked with foam across its whithers and haunches soaking in wetly about its sackcloth saddle blanket. Its neck fur pasted down with sweat, the poor animal had earned its feed that day in miles quickly traveled. Orson dropped the reins, knowing his tired animal was unlikely to attempt escape back to the distant structure. It instantly lowered its head and munched complacently at the weedy grass growing amidst the tree shed leaves.
"Frob-- Lord Frobert." at the vampire's haughtily raised eyebrow, "I must leave you now." the Keeper puffed seating himself with a weary thump under a thick trunked tree, "something is wrong, huff, at the Monestary. Gasp, something amiss." Orson un-corked his water flask and drank deeply then put it away, knowing the vampires did not imbibe. "My ...brothers, do not call to me now; not for the last two days. It doesn't bode well. I shall have to return to the Hammerite compound and find what the trouble has been. My path Northward to them is straitest from here."
Frobert cocked his head with a faint smile, eyeing the Keeper, a porcelain hand still resting delicately over the pommel of the ancient and finely crafted weapon at the vampire's hip. "That is all well and good but what of my niece?"
The Keeper frowned.
"I care little for the tribulations and drama of humanity." Frob explained tiredly as if he were a teacher instructing an unusually slow student. "They replay so often, its like watching the same boring old opera recast a thousand times."
Orson simply stared back at him, the elderly creases in his face seeming to deepen with his frown.
Frob sighed in exaspiration and walked toward the Keeper a few steps, then squatted to look him in the eye, "Any allegence I have to this little quest of ours, I owe to Acorn. Blood alone sets me to this task." He raised a bloodless finger, "Would you have my family line die out completely? She is, after all, the last Orwell... living." his smile increased, it would have been warm, but his nature and dental peculiarities made it a cats grin. "As long as my niece has this scroll you mentioned, they will hound her. The gem is for the scroll. Or vise verse. And if it lets that madman back out to bedevel her enemies or anyone else, so be it." he paused at the master Keeper's continued silence. "She WILL have the gem." The vampire said forcefully and stared back at the seated man.
The Keeper drew in a steadying breath, glancing with shifty eyes at the two vampires, "Keeper Oneiros is not only a member of my order, but a deadly weapon. WE," the keeper indicated himself and his fellow warders far away though they were, "... are needed to bind him if--"
"The Gem." Frobert interrupted extending a hand, sparks glinting in his eyes like drawn steel.
Oneiroscope on 9/1/2005 at 03:30
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ACORN AND LITTLEK!!
A year ago I baked you two a magical cake that turned into whatever flavor you liked best in the world, and some spiked punch. This year I will modify the punch to become whatever booze you like best in the world.
So blow out your set of candles (only as many appear as you want to appear), and dig in!
Acorn on 9/1/2005 at 16:06
:mad: I refuse to have anymore birthdays! :mad:
Oneiroscope on 9/1/2005 at 18:23
Quote:
I refuse to have anymore birthdays!
Okay. :idea: Happy Anniversary... of your 18th birthday! :cool:
Oneiroscope on 10/1/2005 at 06:08
{OOC: ARRRRGH!! :mad: I was almost done with a nice long story post when BAM! my browser closes for no reason and I'm kicked offline. WTF!! *several minutes of profanity ensue Anyway, I will try again later. Probably tomorrow. I have a good idea for the next bit with Orson and Frob and Fern, just so you know. }
