iNDIANA on 30/5/2005 at 11:30
{Guys, you rule, I'll have to spend next night reading it all :)}
Oneiroscope on 30/5/2005 at 17:06
Thanks! :D Always nice to know someone's reading and enjoying this stuff. :thumb:
Acorn on 25/6/2005 at 01:02
An arrow sprouted from the meat of Molly's shoulder, quivering at the feathered end with the force of a sudden stop, and the sneer cleared like magic from the little girl's face to be replaced by a look of genuine childish shock, then a tearful grimace of pain. The child began to wail and dropped weakly to her knees clutching at the shaft with her unwounded left arm.
With the sudden break in Molly's mind link with the enemy Frob and Lady Acorn's paralysis cleared from them immediately and the vampire relaxed with a sigh. Frobert sat up and sparing a single glance of distain for the bedeviled child shook his neice's shoulder gently, but Acorn remained unconcious, her eyes partly opened and rolled up in their sockets she breathed unevenly and occasionally twitched a bit.
Frob looked back up at the child, "Quite a small bite of trouble aren't you my dear?" he frowned, watching the wounded girl shiver under his dragon's eye gaze. Then the vampire moved quickly, jumping up and clouting Molly on the head, he ripped the arrow from her shoulder and tossed her over his, then came back for Acorn.
"If she still wants you she can have you, sweet, but under my preference of conditions." he trotted off with them to join Kestril and another large man the vampire sensed. They waited for Frob and Acorn near the East road. Then the wind shifted bringing a smile to Frob's face, "Oh ho, the boy is back!" He chortled evilly. The vampire mulled this new information over in his mind, perhaps Frob's troup of companions has cooled toward the thief. Garrett had deserted them once again, after all... deserted Frobert's kin who now hung bonelessly from the vampire's shoulder.
=====================================
Garrett leaned back against a tree nearly rendered invisible in the enshrouding cover of the thickly shrubbed wilderness and sighed with fatigue. He had thought the girl had been one of the damned undead and had struck from the treeline with his liberated bow. His almost missing the child alone was a testament to his weakened state. The surprise had come with the child's scream, suddenly transforming it into a normal child in the thief's eyes. Garrett flexed his right hand and felt it tremble, how much of what he saw was real and how much was illusion? He could not understand what the girl's change in disposition meant and felt that important events were happening all around him out of his sight and knowledge. In the thief's experience, that was a sign that you were about to go down. Jailed or killed by the law, or some... thing. His instincts told him that now was the time to proceed with caution. Garrett slipped deeper into the concealing foliage.
Oneiroscope on 25/6/2005 at 01:51
{OOC: Lookin' good! :thumb:}
The zombies began pulling back from Oneiros, thus telling the wizard that Leaf was near and ready. Within the demon helm the Keeper smiled, a tortured grimace hampered and twisted by the spikes digging into his flesh. He felt the blood pouring from the warping wounds, the spikes in his eyes seemed to dig even deeper.
Oneiros knew that Leaf might well kill him. He had sensed, seemingly eons ago, the massive surge of magical energies that had destroyed Acorn's mansion. He knew that Leaf was responsible. The lich was supremely powerful, and its mind was like a mountain. Impenetrable and cold, forbidding and ancient. Linked as he was with the stone, there would be only one way to destroy Leaf.
Oneiros relaxed, lowered the howling blade, and waited. The rest would be fate. And wile.
When Leaf came, the undead parted before him. The lich floated above the ground. The rotted finery that adorned the withered body trailed tiny silken threads that glistened in the dark light of the hellfire that lit the scene. Its eyes were a devil light that Oneiros knew well. After all, the wizard's name in hell was Oneiros The Damned. Leaf had prepared himself well. Oneiros sensed wards about the Pagan that would resist, by sheer power, any attack even a Master of Five might bring forth. Oneiros could not conceal his admiration.
"You are Leaf. I am honored." Oneiros bowed his head slightly and saluted with the wailing sword. A trail of smoke rose from it and wreathed the demon helm in smoke born of his own blood.
"Oneiros, Son Of The Green, Master Of Five Magics. You will serve the Stone."
Oneiros shook his head. "Never."
"Blind does you be. Angry boy with eyeses closed. Nows will you see the truth. The Stone be's all things and nothing. Hidden is it, but close and bigger than all things. Whisper to you it will, and then you be's lost. Remember."
Oneiros was quiet. He considered the Pagan's words. Understanding tugged at his thoughts. A nagging touch on his consciousness.
"But first," Leaf said in a deathly whisper, "first you die."
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Levent wandered, lost. Shapes moved around him constantly, but he had given up on the dry things. They had nothing more to give, not even the poison, anymore. He had drained them. In frustration the vampire howled. But then he heard something, a tiny sound as of pain. He launched himself at it. The struggle was brief. First Levent fed on yet more dead blood, then remembered the hate boiling within.
-------------
Orson floated in nothingness. Then a voice came.
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Oliver watched the beginning of the duel, but wisely stayed back. He did not entirely understand what was happening. But only a fool involved himself in a private fight between mages. Especially of this calibre. Fearing nothing was all well and good, but Oliver was not stupid. So he waited and watched, sitting comfortably on a mossy boulder, Sunshield tucked away beneath a heavy cloth to hide his position.
The knight looked to either side. He wondered where Acorn and the others had gone. If they had any sense they were well away, he thought. But then here HE was, watching the display like a child at a fireworks show. A rueful grin crossed his face. But then the show began, and took his breath away.
The first stroke of green lightning lasted nearly ten beats of his heart. Then many, many more followed in ever quickening succession. The thunder was a deafening and constant roar that shook everything, even the stone on which Oliver sat. Each bolt fell upon the form of Oneiros like the judgement of the Trickster Himself. And yet still, Oneiros stood.
Acorn on 25/6/2005 at 06:31
Er, heheh, I had written that Kestrel was waiting with a "large man" that was supposed to be Oliver... :p There's nobody new there.
Of course, Kestrel can just now walk up on Oliver I suppose.
Oneiroscope on 25/6/2005 at 06:54
{OOC: Yeah, that sounds good. For some stupid reason I guess I didn't pick up that Kestril and Oliver were together. So maybe just have Kestril and Frob turn up and join him in watching the battle/ deciding what to do next. I dunno, I'm outta gas tonight. Feel free to add on. Maybe write more about Acorn. Get her back in the mix there somewhere. Gngngngzz. Sleeep. Sleeee... :bored: }
Oneiroscope on 7/7/2005 at 01:11
After the last bolt of green lightning struck, Oneiros staggered slightly.
"Oh, very good." The wizard chuckled, slightly breathlessly. He leaned on the demon blade for a moment, it's white-hot tip first drying, then scorching the drenched soil and raising clouds of vaporized moisture. "I must commend you, Leaf. Truly an impressive display." Oneiros gathered himself, then abruptly sat in a lotus position, the howling blade across his armored knees.
"But not enough, I fear. You must try harder. A suggestion, if I may be so bold? Do not use Fire. I won't even feel it. Demonic armor, you see."
Leaf's face became a monstrous, hateful grimace. The lich raised a hand and black bolt slammed into Oneiros's chest. The wizard grunted, then as the black bolt became a constant ray, began to weep audibly within the devil helm.
"So sure you be, manfool? So brave?" The unholy light in Leaf's eyes multiplied a thousand fold. "Soon the Stone havsies you. Remember that, manflesh, and trembles you." The midnight beam thickened, the light of Death itself, revealer of All, lit the demonic armor from within.
But finally even Leaf could not sustain the ray any longer. Bits of the lich's flesh were now powder at its feet.
Oneiros sagged in relief. "Impressive. Most impressive." The wizard chuckled obscenely. "But a one sided battle is just a bit boring. What say I liven things up a tad?"
Oneiros gripped the sword in both hands, one at the hilt, one on the burning blade itself. He bent his head. He uttered a single word, but five words all at once.
Streams of light issued forth in all directions from the blade, souls Oneiros had trapped within its unholy frame in the seemingly mindless frenzy of the previous battle. Each of them once enslaved to the Skollus Stone, but now in Oneiros's power.
Leaf seemed almost to cringe before the first white star hit him. Other stars struck other zombies, many of which mewed in dreadful recognition of fallen comrades and one-time family. Within the helmet Oneiros smiled, savoring and dreading the pain of the spikes in his flesh and the tingle of regeneration. "Not quite showy enough, you say?" He giggled, then sobbed. "How about THIS?" The trailing wisps of the souls solidified, becoming barbed tentacles that reached back to the blade. The undead, all around Oneiros in macabre ranks, screamed.
"Don't worry. More's to come. More's to come. Yes. Much more fun to be had before we're done."
------------------------
A tremendous surge of Death washed over Acorn like a river of sewage. She fought for breath, struggled against the endless tide that threatened to drag her under. It stopped. Then came again. Her eyes shot open.
Acorn awoke to see what could only be Sir Oliver crouching behind a large fallen tree, flanked by Frobert and Kestril. Her head was filled with dry cotton. Her hands and feet tingled uncomfortably. What had wakened her? Wait. Where WAS she? The others seemed to be ignoring her. That would not do.
"Sir Oliver, you seem to be in a most undignified position for one of your size." She quipped.
Frob turned calmly with a feral grin and a chuckle.
Oliver gave a start, then looked back at Acorn shamefacedly. "My apologies, milady..."
"Nevermind, Oliver. I was being flippant." The knight could be so dreadfully proper at times. Almost belied his terrible strength and skill with that horrible wavy sword. Somehow she could never reconcile that enormous, fat, bearlike body with the genteel and sophisticated knight within. He looked much more like some degenerate barkeep or whoremaster than he did a warrior.
"What is happening? Why are you three hiding behind that tree? Has anyone found Garrett?"
"Nobody finds me unless I want them to, MILADY." Garrett's sneering voice came from a deep shadow next to Kestril. Acorn swallowed when she realized she had looked directly at the master thief half a dozen times and not seen him.
Oliver cleared his throat, recovering his composure. "We are in concealment" he said, his distaste of her use of the word 'hiding' plainly evident, " and we await the outcome of a wizard's duel. I fear Oneiros may be overconfident. He is certainly powerful enough to deal with the lich, but he has been holding back. I fear hubris may undo him."
Acorn blinked. "What?"
"He says Oneiros is playing around. Not taking this seriously, and he's going to get killed. Again." Kestril seethed. He turned back to the battle. "Damned fool. What is he waiting for?"
"Well, he is crazy. Said so himself about a hundred times." Garrett said philosophically. "Maybe he just hasn't... I dunno, realized what's happening yet."
"Whatever the cause- if he does not act to end this soon, I will." Oliver's voice was sharpened steel. "We shall see whether that devilish armor may long endure the Sun Shield. I would lay odds on 'not as long as he thinks'."
Acorn's eyes went wide. "But he's on OUR side!"
"Perhaps. For the moment." Then Oliver explained to them his fears. That through the dead Keeper Horn, or even newly dead Orson, the Stone would gain dominion over Oneiros.
With every word, Acorn's face grew grimmer. And she had given him over to them. Brought the wizard back just as the Stone had wanted. As it had planned. The lich's warning echoed once again in her thoughts. Her doom had come. It was down there toying with the Stone's army like a child with tin soldiers, knocking them over and propping them up with abandon. What would Oneiros do when he turned?
A fragment of a fever dream returned to her. That terrible visage, the clawed hand digging into her wrist. "Aaaacorn." The one voice that was five sang, every note dripping with madness and malice. "Ready for your lesson?"
Acorn on 24/7/2005 at 22:03
I'm still here just can't think what to write
:sweat:
Oneiroscope on 26/7/2005 at 02:04
{OOC: Yeah, I'm kind of coming up dry myself. I had a bit for Amelie and Fern which I might post later, I might also try to come up with something about the battle at the monastary. But the fight itself... not much. I have an idea about how to end it, but I'm not ready to do that yet.
Hmm. Here's an idea for you: Acorn and company see Orson rise, realize Oneiros is in grave peril when Orson starts attacking and immobilizes Oneiros while Leaf pounds on him. Acorn and maybe Ollie decide to intervene, risking the crossfire of a wizard's duel and whatever cataclysmic thingamajig O has planned to do so. Whaddaya think? Wanna run wif it?}
Oneiroscope on 27/7/2005 at 04:59
{OOC: Here's the bit about Amelie and Fern. And 500th reply! Holy Cow! Well, I'm sure once we go back and delete a few of the unnecessary posts it'll be less than that but for the mo': Holy Cow! :eek: }
Amelie awoke in the woods. Nearby was the huddled body of Molly. Another girl, pale as death, sat on her haunches nearby and stared into nothingness. Except for a single, flat look at Amelie. And then a nervous glance north.
"Who are you? What is wrong with Molly?" Amelie demanded. She couldn't remember much. She had a vague impression of a nightmare in which a gigantic iron statue had tried to strangle her. And... father was there. She shied away from it in her thoughts, tried to focus on the here and now. But she felt... soiled somehow. As if the inside of her skin was coated in a patina of the old black grease that used to collect behind the stove in the Dead Burrick.
The girl did not answer. She merely looked at Amelie for a moment, then made the sign of the mute by touching her throat.
"I see. You can't talk?"
The pale girl nodded.
Amelie struggled to her feet and went to Molly. There was a bandaged wound in the child's shoulder that smelled of herbs. But Molly seemed stable. Her chest rose and fell evenly, in a deep sleep. Amelie sat next to her, and stroked her bedraggled hair.
"Someone shot her?"
The girl nodded again. Amelie felt tears fighting to come, she choked them back. Tears helped no one and nothing. She had learned that lesson well by now.
"Who?" Her voice was steady, but thick.
The girl stared.
Amelie cleared her throat. "Sorry. I guess you couldn't tell me even if you knew."
The girl smiled, lips carefully closed. The smile did not reach her eyes. There, Amelie saw something strange. Almost hunger? Almost pity? It was hard to say, but it was slightly unnerving.
"Are we in trouble? Molly and me? Are you going to hurt us?"
The girl hesitated, then shook her head. But that hesitation weighed heavy on Amelie. It could mean anything. Just because the girl was mute didn't mean she couldn't lie.
Thunder rolled, sudden and terrifyingly loud. As if lightning had struck mere yards away. Amelie and the pale girl both started and looked wildly around. Molly slept on, oblivious.
"There was no flash, was there?" Amelie said when she had regained her breath.
The girl shook her head.
"Not lightning then? What was it?"
The girl hunched her shoulders in confusion, but then Amelie saw comprehension dawn. She made mystical signs with her hands, miming a spellcaster, then pointed west.
"Wizards?" Amelie said, then the dream returned to her. She saw her father promising protection for a wizard called Oneiros. She saw herself touching Acorn's shoulder and letting filth pass between them. Saw a young man floating naked before her, fear in his eyes, and yet he winked and smiled.
She saw that man encased in writhing tendrils of smoke that drew blood. Heard him scream. Watched as the smoke became hot metal and as his blood began to drip from the awful shapes it formed. Amelie saw Acorn turn and look at her in horror.
Amelie gagged. "What have I done?"
The pale girl's head hung low. She shook her head. She made circles around her wrists, as if trying to convey something through sign. Circles around the wrists. Bracelets? The girl held the wrists together, as if bound. Chains. She pointed at Amelie, then made the sign again. Amelie in chains. Then she pointed to herself. And Molly. And all around. Then the bound hands again.
Amelie did not understand what the girl was trying to say. It didn't matter, anyway.
"To the west?"
The pale girl's brows went up in confusion.
"The wizards are to the west?" The girl nodded, eyes flat and hard.
Amelie rose again. Her legs were weak. Every breath an effort. Her throat was bruised and cut. She began to totter off to the west. She didn't know what she would do, but she had to go to him. Those eyes flashed before her again. Dark blue, almost black. Wide with terror. As if he had known what would happen. She had to understand. She had to do something. The need pulled her forward.
Fern did nothing to stop Amelie. When she was gone, Fern grinned, showing her fangs. Then tears fell from her eyes and lined her face in crimson. Her face fell and she grasped her head in both hands. She shook her head again. Then she looked north. Levent was coming again. Levent, or whatever he had become.
Fern made the sign of bound wrists again and rocked back and forth, staring at them. Gory tears fell on her wrists.
"Levent," she gasped, the first words she had spoken since Frob had put her under thrall and commanded her silence. The first since the Stone had broken that thrall.
A scent came to her. A familiar one, but twisted and charred. Nat. Without thought she rose and went to him.
Molly slept on, alone.
