littlek on 28/10/2003 at 17:23
{{I am having trouble keeping up! But I'll give it my best effort.}}
Ferns fight against the presence in her mind was useless. Her strong, sinewy body was more than capable of maintaining the grueling pace that the intruder in her mind forced her body into. Having this new presence in her head was interesting but she was frightened more than she had ever been in her life. She tried once again to fight for control of her body but again she failed. She fell into a rhythmic jog feeling the eye she unwillingly stole bounce in its silk shroud that she slung over her back. She could hear the eye complain loudly.
“Stop this at once.” the eye hissed. “Fight the beast. You will destroy the world. Fight it. Listen to me.”
The presence in her mind spoke to her constantly and told her resistance was pointless and to not listen to the eye’s babble. That the great eye was a trickster and a liar. Her companion told her she was destined to do great things should their journey be successful. That she would be immortal and it knew she was intrigued by immortality. It also told her that they were being pursued by manfools and beasts and that they needed to make haste. Fern’s body picked up the pace.
She tried to speak to her companion through her mind but it would not listen. She could only listen to it as its voice now drowned out the voice of the eye. Her dress was in tattered shreds that now tangled in her legs as she ran. She found her hands grabbing at what remained and tearing off the bottom. It made running easier but her bare legs were now no longer protected from the thorns and bramble that she ran through. Fern ran as if the trickster himself pursued her.
Oneiroscope on 28/10/2003 at 20:41
As Acorn’s servants loaded his sleeping body into a cart for the long trip back to her mother, Levent drifted through a landscape of nightmares. Nebulous shapes, half-heard voices, fragments of memories.
One memory in particular seemed to keep resurfacing in the same way that a book might fall open to a favorite passage. An apt analogy, since the memory was of a book. A book he had read when a young acolyte of the Keepers. Dramatists Of The Precursers, by Keeper Joseph.
He had read it one day out of simple boredom. After hours studying the great works, wading through seas of archaic language to find a tiny kernel of importance, Keeper Joseph’s little book had been a refreshing diversion. The tone had been light. As if somehow Keeper Joseph had sought to humanize the mighty Precurser civilization by reciting the amusing lies they told upon the stage. A particular passage kept appearing before Levent’s dreaming eyes:
“The great poet also penned a tale of horror so universally reviled that it may have resulted in his death. The poems themselves are lost now, but they were called The Cycle Of The Skollus Stone. Much ado resulted from these poems at the time. Many of the more respected critics called for it to be banned from recital, some going so far as to suggest Gondis be punished for its writing.
Gondis is known to have lost his position in society because of these works. Considering that his suicide occurred only a handful of years later, it may be fairly speculated that the spectacular failure and outright vilification of his epic drove an already dangerously unstable genius over the edge.
From what I have been able to piece together, the Skollus Stone was the crystallized remains of some powerful entity that Gondis claimed predated the dawn of the world, some reference was made that Gondis had even implied that the Stone had survived the destruction of a previous incarnation of the universe. Whatever its origin, Gondis attributed his creation with such malice toward the Creator and all creation that critics dubbed the poems blasphemous and demanded all copies be destroyed. “
Somehow, Levent knew this was important. That he must remember it. So to latch on to something in the sickening seas that his thoughts had become, he began to recite the passage to himself over and over. After what seemed like aeons, the whirlwind of sensations and thoughts began to slow just slightly. He was still imprisoned in random dreams and sensations, but at least now he could hold a thought. That thought became: “I must tell Acorn. Somehow, I must find a way.” But in the waking world, all Acorn’s servants saw was that the comatose man’s lips were moving. Someone began dabbing Levent‘s forehead with a rag dipped in cool water.
“Skol…” he uttered weakly. “Critics…”
“The poor dear must have been disturbed when we loaded him up.” Said the maidservant attending him.
“Precur…” He said. But then decended back into the depths. The cart began rolling.
“I do hope the road isn’t too bumpy. I don’t like his color.”
Oneiroscope on 28/10/2003 at 21:24
{OOC: okay, here ya go...}
Guille pushed Fern’s body as hard as it would go, but he knew that unless he found some way to escape the pursuers he would soon be animating a corpse. He needed a horse. Fern knew that a road lay beyond the woods, perhaps five miles from the manor. It would be along any moment now. Perhaps he could waylay a coach or even a farmer’s hay cart! Anything!
Fern leapt over a fallen log and tumbled down a sharp incline. She came to rest on flat earth. The road! But it was night, no travelers were in sight. Guille swore with the girl’s lips, then forced her increasingly damaged body back into a run. South, we must go south! Before dawn Guille was sure there would be someone traveling. Farmers, he remembered, had to leave early to take their wares into towns.
Fern’s body was one large wound. Every inch of her was on fire. Bruises, scrapes, cuts, she was sure one of her ribs had been cracked in the fall. But despite this agony, she could do nothing to slow her body. In her mind she screamed with pain and fear. Then suddenly she came to a stop. She found herself standing in the middle of the road with a malicious grin on her face.
“I know your there, highwayman.” The words slithered out of her mouth without her accord. Her tongue, under the control of whatever it was that possessed her, felt like a serpent in her mouth. “Come out, thief, and claim your prize.”
From the bushes to the right came a large man, dressed in dark rags and bits of dented armor. His grizzled face was a mass of pimples, scars and warts. He teeth, bared by a leering grin, had many gaps and were the color of tea.
“One question first, my beautiful prince. Do you have a horse?”
The highwayman nodded, his eyes glittering.
“Excellent.” Fern flung the Eye at the man, who caught it with a look of supreme surprise.
“Run!” Said the Eye. But it was too late. Fern felt the world spin. The highwayman suddenly stiffened, then turned and disappeared into the bushes. As Fern’s injuries and her forced exertions caught up with her all at once, she crumpled. From the ground she watched a huge red stallion spring from the bushes. The highwayman held the Eye aloft as he galloped away. Fern heard him cackling madly as he disappeared into the night.
Kestril on 28/10/2003 at 23:20
{OOC/ Wow, I know I said run with it, but my goodness. Right, now time to save some face. I probably should have mentioned at the begining, but Kestril isn't a thief. He's a Keeper. That's okay though, I've come up with a good cover.}
The troop moved quickly through the woods. The apemen stopping every so often to sniff the air and re-catch the scent. Kestril stirred impatiently on his horse.
"This is taking too long," he thought.
Kestril knew he should stay with them. Every Keeper knew who Garrett was and what he was capable of, and Kestril was no exception. Kestril was a bit aggravated Garrett seemed to forget who he was. They did trash a manor house fighting eachother. Acorn seemed to be powerful enough, and quite resourceful. Kestril couldn't help wishing Levent was with them. He felt bad leaving his breathren behind and in such a condition.
Kestril wondered if he should let the troop know his little secret. The play acting was getting annoying. He decided against it for the time being. He knew he could speed up the trip for them. He whispered to his horse. Something unintelligble to most people, a language of woodland people, taught to him by the immortal sorcerer Tagradh. He told his horse to stay with the troop as he couldn't drive while meditating.
Long ago Kestril could Focus without meditation, but he gave that up for the love of a woman. Kestril could help wishing she were here too. Kestril slumped in his saddle. Steadying himself he gazed into the metal meditation ring in his hand. He slowly entered a Focused state. His mind dropped into a plain of conciousness. Here he could feel living things, sense their emotions and even gather life force to himself. Porbably the only reason he had survived his mission to gather the ancient Trickster artifacts. He wondered if the Keeper Elders knew the Skollus Stone and sent him to find the weapons to stop it's agenda. He raced across his ethereal plain through the landscape towards the girl. He found her. Her life draining from her. Kestril went to leave his meditation, but noticed something else. A taint on the girl's mind. It was faint alomst as if residual, but it was familiar. Kestril caught the flash of a dream he had back in the church. A presence leaping in and out of his mind. Seemingly disinterested.
Kestril awoke to the same scene waiting for the apebeasts to anme a direction.
"That way!" Kestril called out pointing in the direction of Fern.
Oneiroscope on 29/10/2003 at 00:03
{OOC: Kestril! Where you been? Glad you're back! Nice post, but for two things: How does Kestril know the name 'Skollus Stone'? Wouldn't he just call it 'the Enemy'? Or did he read the same book that Levent had, and put two and two together? And, I only meant Fern to be in bad shape, not dying. I'm sure the good guys will get there in time to save her, though. Kestril being a Keeper is cool, makes things a little more interesting for his character. Sorry we didn't know about his familiarity with Garrett, is that from another RPG?}
Acorn and Garrett both stared at Kestril.
"Are you sure? Bananas and Chimchim seem to think the trail leads due East." Acorn's eyes betrayed her suspicion. More interference from the enemy? Was Kestril about to clasp his head in pain, as had Levent and Fern before him?
Kestril hesitated. How much to reveal? How could he explain? He realized he couldn't without breaking his oath. Just because Levent had did not release him from his duty.
"Look, nevermind how I know. She's to the southeast and she's hurt. We don't have time for this!" With that he galloped off through the trees. Garrett shrugged and followed him. Frob peeled off as well, with an apologetic glance at his niece.
"Well!" Acorn grumped. I'm certainly not taking the word of a thief over Bananas and Chimchim's tracking, she thought. She quickened her pace, and urged the two apebeasts to hurry.
----------
Fern looked up as Kestril, Garrett, and Frob emerged from the trees. In a heartbeat Kestril was off his horse and approaching her cautiously. Garrett’s horse stood patiently, but the man had diappeared from the saddle. Frob carefully dismounted, his horse whickering and nipping at him. The vampire stepped quickly away from the beast and circled Fern.
“It’s gone?” Asked Kestril, his brow furrowed.
Fern nodded. She had not much energy for talking. “South.” She croaked. Garrett emerged from the shadows, sword drawn, but quickly sheathed it and produced a healing potion.
“You’d better have a swig of this. You don’t look too well.” Fern gratefully accepted the potion and drained it.
“It took the Eye of course. How is it traveling?” Kestril demanded.
“Horse.” She gasped, as the potion began its work. “I…it found a bandit. It’s moving fast now. It wants to take the Eye south. It’s desperate to get as far as it can quickly, I think it is very tired.”
“Hmm. It will probably find some place to hide. If the thing is located at Bagmoor, as I suspect, it won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. The strain must be enormous! I don’t think any human wizard could have done this. Control another’s mind from a distance of hundreds of miles? No. Impossible. We are definitely facing something beyond the ken of mortal man here.”
Garrett smirked. “All in a day’s work. For some, anyway.” He looked meaningfully at Kestril.
Frob was at a loss. “How are we going to catch it? It could be anywhere by now!”
“Like I told Acorn, “ Garrett began. “We’d better pay a visit to the Keepers. They will almost certainly have a portal that will take us somewhere near Bagmoor Keep. Besides, we have to learn about those artifacts. If we don’t know how to use them, what’s the point of having them? We’ll have to go to the City, but that’s less than half the distance our friend must cover.”
“I’m going with you.” Fern’s voice was hard as steel. “I have a score to settle with that… thief.”
Celtic_Thief on 29/10/2003 at 01:50
Celtic crouched in the tree as the large man on a horse galloped by. Someone's in a hurry, he thought to himself. The Keeper Council had sent him, since Celtic had worked with him before, after Kestril; who should have been back days ago. The man, a bandit by his clothing, didn't appear to be carrying a humanoid shape so he was of no concern. Celtic climbed down the tree and continued north. If the old hermit ,who lived south was right, Kestril would have gone this way to an old Hammerite church.
After another 30 minutes of walking, Celtic heard the sound of apebeasts. He scaled a tree and knocked back an arrow. Hiding was bound to be almost impossible, they'd pick up his scent. And then he heard two familiar voices. Kestril... And Garret? Celtic thought to himself. He then whistled in a way the Keepers had trained them to use to identify other Keepers when they couldn't be seen. A few seconds went by and the whistle was returned.
Oneiroscope on 29/10/2003 at 20:09
{OOC: Yay! A new contributer! Welcome to the thread, Celtic!:thumb: }
The bandit’s real name was Burk Dinsdale, but he had adopted the more dramatic moniker the Red Rider, insisting that the boys down the tavern call him by it or suffer the loss of several teeth. Burk was not an astute man. He was lazy. He was violent. He had delusions of grandeur that had earned many a snicker in the tavern, but woe to any man stupid enough to let Burk hear him laugh. Burke lived out on the ramshackle remains of his father’s farm. He knew nothing about farming. He had made sure as a lad that he had studiously failed to learn the trade.
Unfortunately that very talent (or lack of it) had reduced him to little more than a masked thug. He had started out beating up farmers for a little flour and a few eggs, and had liked it a great deal. He had quickly moved on to rape, murder, and extortion. Then, a year ago, he had stolen the great red stallion from the town stable. Some visiting nobleman had found himself in the middle of nowhere, and had bunked in the village for the night. Ever since then, Burke had considered himself a Highwayman.
The Red Rider had terrorized the roads of the countryside for many months now. He had been about to give up and go back to extorting chickens from frightened milkmaids (it was more difficult to waylay a speeding and heavily guarded coach than he had anticipated) when the strange girl had walked right into his ambush without batting an eye. To say he was sorely disappointed at the way things had transpired was an understatement. Now he found himself pushing Red to the breaking point riding… where? Burke was saddle sore. His stomach was empty. He was as angry as… well, a rabid Burrick or something. But he could not pull up on the reins! He was strong enough to lift the axle of a beer wagon, but no matter how he tried he could not move two slack strips of leather even an inch!
Abruptly he found himself turning off the main road and onto the game track that led to one of his hidey holes. Well, at least that was something. He had half a dozen spots picked out where he could elude any pursuit. Of course, he hadn’t actually BEEN pursued yet, but that was just a matter of time. He was still learning the trade after all. In the hide out was jerked beef, some water, a bedroll. All the comforts of home. He tried to remember if this was the one with the spiders. Well, so what if it was? He was a big lad. He wasn’t afraid of bugs.
After tying, or rather, watching his hands tie Red’s reins to a low tree bough, Burke made for the small cave hidden behind the thorn bushes. Wait! He thought angrily. You didn’t rub Red down! He’ll get all achy and sick! Dammit! You didn’t tie his feed bag on, water him, or even pat him on the head! And you left the pack and saddle on! What do you think you’ll be riding tomorrow? A Burrick? To Burke’s surprise, his body froze, then turned back to the horse.
After tending to the horse (at more furious concentration from Burke, he had moved Red to the little stable he had built in a hollow not far away) Burke’s body returned to the cave. He mechanically ate a few strips of jerky and bolted down a few cups of water. Then the lights went out, but good.
-----
In the Bagmoor crypt, Guille sagged from exhaustion. He work was not yet complete. The bandit was not safe. “Leaf” he whispered. At least his tongue, no matter how dried and ravaged it was, still was capable of speech. Unlike Leaf, who’s tongue had been pulled out by Hammers as a child. The body of Leaf struggled back to its feet, swaying drunkenly and still suffering from its exertion. There was considerably more skull and less flesh now.
“Spiders, Leaf. Protect..” With that, Guille finally dropped where he stood. Leaf hesitated for a moment, then raised his now skeletal hands. The end of his right index finger dropped off as the lich began to cast.
{OOC: I think maybe some of the characters should set off on the trail of the bandit, while perhaps the others go to the City. Just a suggestion. :) }
Acorn on 30/10/2003 at 01:59
{OOC: Red Rider *Laugh laugh laugh*}
The two ape beasts rolled about on the ground fighting over the pile of plums that Acorn had unloaded from her saddle bags and a few added from the pack horses. Though they had found the girl AFTER Garrett and his ... rather amazing friend... the point was moot to the simple creatures who had, after all, completed their appointed task. They were exhausted anyway, and Acorn didn't think she could push them to travel any further.
The party would have to rest the horses now as well. Not to mention themselves. It was nearly Three O'Clock in the morning, by the stars. This wasn't a normal hour to be up and about for Acorn and Fern. She didn't know about Garrett and company, but the night's exertions were beginning to wear on her, even the heads of the horses appeared to be drooping.
A whistle sounded from the trees to the south and though Acorn, Frob, Fern and the apes startled at the unexpected noise, Kestril and Garrett merely raised their heads from their private conversation with interest, glancing at each other knowingly. Garrett then put two fingers to his mouth and answered the call with a similar noise, and the two thieves disappeared into the shadowy wood.
"More thieves" Acorn thought, sighing. Well at least the bulk of her family funds had been smartly kept in the city bank, safely collecting interest and fully insured incase of a robbery there. Garrett had no doubt lifted her walking around cash from the vault, but she was willing to overlook the theft--this time--since he was helping to recover the Eye and fight the evil that had stolen it.
Also there would be a sizable chunk of cash coming to her as soon as the Bernard Daily Insurance Society heard about the fire at her ancestral manse and sent a few disaster investigators over to confirm the damage. So, she was still pretty well fixed. No need to take up the, apparently popular, line of work of these parts. Goddess, so many thieves... :nono:
Frob cleared his throat from behind her. "Dear niece, ah, I must take my leave...."
"You're leaving us Frobert?" Acorn asked, shock and dismay quavering in her voice. Would he desert her in her time of greatest need?
"--I'd never break mine oath to the family." He pronounced, as much an affirmation as a statement to mollify his niece. "but I am... what I am, and I must. Ah, satisfy one of my special needs.... I must go NOW!" His eyes shone redly in the darkness and Acorn felt herself falling into them. "Now.." she echoed dimly, wondering why she couldn't remember what 'now' meant.
Frob snapped his eyes shut and swiftly turned his head away releasing his niece from the involuntarily placed trance. It was his own fault that he had let himself go hungry this long... The freshly drying blood from that servant girl's injuries was nearly driving him mad. Best to get away from all these warm bodies, their heart beats echoing in his ears... Frob shook his head and slapped his face a couple of times, hard.
Acorn stared, dumbstruck and then made a decision.
"Frob... Uncle." She said getting his attention from a much safer distance, "You might jeopardize the group, not to mention yourself, if you go into town with us. Even after you've fed I'm thinking." Frob looked away frowning but not arguing, "I think your best course might be to follow the highwayman on your own." Acorn continued, "We can leave behind your horse..."
"I don't really need it. In fact, I could travel much faster without it to tell the truth." He replied, "I only rode with the rest of you as a protective measure for my dear sweet niece." Frob grinned toothily and then caught himself, closing his mouth, and continued smiling more humanly.
"Thank you Uncle." Acorn bowed lightly to her ancient ancestor. "We shall meet you on the other side of the city. Keep well."
"And you dear Acorn." Frob bowed as well, backing politely into the darkness and disappearing without a sound.
"Good hunting.." She added, before stepping back to the roadside to see how Fern was doing.
{OOC: Ok guys, don't kill Frob.}:devil::p
Oneiroscope on 30/10/2003 at 03:01
{OOC: Thanks, I must admit I chuckled a little as I wrote that. Also over his real name. Too many britcoms as a youngster, I think.:cheeky: Your names have been pretyy funny too. 'Frobert" had me laughing!:laff: }
Selena Sarcens was young for a Priestess. Barely an adult, in truth. But her grasp of engineering and encylopedic knowledge of the scriptures, combined with a streak of righteous ruthlessness that awed even some of the former Hammers, had ensured her quick ascent. That, and the fact that since Karras's death, the Mechanists had been forced to replace a good many defecting priests.
She was incensed however, that the same desperation that had quickened her career in the Order now required her to abase herself for that swine Lord Lucious Bagmoor. But now, she held in her hands the reward for all her swallowed pride.
"Mother Sarcens, It is my sad duty to inform you that the venerable Hammer High Priest at Bagmoor Keep, Father Darius Vraden, is gravely ill. He is not expected to last the night." Here the handwriting became looser, as if the writer had been unable to conceal his joy.
"He is in great pain. The Hammerite healer, Brother Simon, is unable to determine the cause of the illness! I have decided, therefore, to use this very sad and troubling occasion to change our family's religious affiliation. Father Vraden was understandably upset by the news! The old b------ bastions of my family's faith were very precious to him.
I believe it is time to enter the modern era! A new world awaits! I look forward to welcoming you, your Mechanists, and your wonderful machines at Bagmoor as soon as possible. I assure you that the Hammers will not be here to interfere with a smooth transition, since as soon as Vraden is buried I shall evict them.
Yours,
Lord Lucious H. Bagmoor."
True, Bagmoor Keep was hardly a prestigious placing, but Selena was flushed with victory. She had secured another Lord's support, and weakened the Hammers in the same blow! Bagmoor was only the beginning.
From the Keep she would be able to recruit thousands of disaffected peasants to the Mechanist cause. She intended to build an army. Already her blueprints for a new type of Combat Bot were complete. She had also designed new types of Masked Servants and even new weapons.
Within two years, she would amass a force that would enable the Mechanists to assume rightful control of the City! Soon she would easily displace Vilnia as The Voice Of Karras. Let her cry about seniority when Selena presented ten thousand armed Servants that obeyed only one person! High Priestess Selena Sarcens!
Celtic_Thief on 30/10/2003 at 03:38
Celtic heard two people approaching, and saw Kestril and Garret walk to the tree he was in. Celtic jumed down. "Garret." He said, then nodded his head. "Celtic." Garret replied in the same fashion. Celtic said to Kestril, "The Council has grown worried in your abscence, they sent me after you. Since Garret and several other people are travelling with you, I assume that something important has happened." Garret and Kestril said in unison. "The Eye." Garret continued, "Has been stolen by some malign force. It had control of a girl a few minutes ago and lastly took control of a highwayman." A look of annoyance passed over Celtic's face. The road bandit. Celtic thought; he said, "Figures... Where's Keeper Levant? This area is under his observation."
