The Holy Warrior looked at his box in Jetamio's hand, still emanating it's melody for all.
"Hold on to it for now Jetamio. Let it ease your soul. M'Lady's insights are usually quite accurate and if she felt that you needed the music then it most likely is so. I will tell you more about it another time but suffice it to say that it gives you what you need most at the time." The Knight followed Jetamio outside. Gilliadson did not like the idea of Sineliniel being alone out here with the Sanguine loose and possibly still in the area but he put his trust in their higher powers to protect her. Very strange that she would leave Fluffy behind. Somehow in his spirit he felt that she was well and that was enough for him. Right now his immediate concern was their druidess friend. She had revealed something wonderous about herself. Gilliadson sensed her mental turmoil as she revealed her secret and was quite proud of her courage in doing so. Gilliadson wanted to take her hands and pray for her and reassure her that all would be well but the music of the box was probably already doing that. As they walked toward the pond, Gilliadson's thoughts drifted to Sineliniel. "Leofa." The Paladin whispered into the wind.
Teenage Infatuations
Moderator: Candlelights
-
Gilliadson
- Posts: 517
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2007 11:52 pm
- Location: A cottage in Kelethin
- Contact:
She stopped at the pools edge, and lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross legged as she leaned over slightly to peer into the dark depths. She kept her hands in her lap, the music box nestled safely within them.
"The Sun shows the present, that which is, the light of today. Luclin reveals the past, that which has been, the light of yesterday." She looks up at the moon shining from the dark velvet sky. "Do you understand?" she asks of those who followed.
"The Sun shows the present, that which is, the light of today. Luclin reveals the past, that which has been, the light of yesterday." She looks up at the moon shining from the dark velvet sky. "Do you understand?" she asks of those who followed.
-
Stormfollower
- Posts: 488
- Joined: Fri Oct 27, 2006 11:05 pm
- Location: Unknown
Stormfollower sat very near Jetamios side but looked down into the pools smooth surface as she gazed up. He had the distinct impression that they had all done this before... in a dream though now lost to him in times dream dimming span.
"A reflection of the past... Yet Veiled, hidden and mimicked by her fauning visible sister. And even still misunderstood as only the image set down apon this easily rippled surface between two realms. "
He pointed to the moons refection in the pool and tossed a pebble into it.
"The future is far more clear in that it unfolds before us."
"A reflection of the past... Yet Veiled, hidden and mimicked by her fauning visible sister. And even still misunderstood as only the image set down apon this easily rippled surface between two realms. "
He pointed to the moons refection in the pool and tossed a pebble into it.
"The future is far more clear in that it unfolds before us."
"Well said, life is lived forwards but is understood backwards. The present dogged constantly by the spectre of the past, whom it immediately joins upon arrival. Life stalked always by the shadow of death, without knowledge of which, it slips quickly into the meaningless. Light and dark dancing always towards a conclusion unforeseen. A heavy weight to ask any man to carry, let alone comprehend."
Wet grass whispered as the bare-footed drakkin joined the company, now feeling some regret at having left the fire's warmth. The arcane eye hovered over his shoulder like an attentive crow, internalizing even the most insignificant details.
"What cryptic charge do you present us with?" The mage somehow managed to sound genuine in spite of himself. "Before we all dissolve into a pride of sphinxes."
Wet grass whispered as the bare-footed drakkin joined the company, now feeling some regret at having left the fire's warmth. The arcane eye hovered over his shoulder like an attentive crow, internalizing even the most insignificant details.
"What cryptic charge do you present us with?" The mage somehow managed to sound genuine in spite of himself. "Before we all dissolve into a pride of sphinxes."
Alsurin Sunveil, summoner of Keikolin
Let me forsake all to reach towards the heavens, straining desperatly to hear but a chord of those songs sung among the stars.
Let me forsake all to reach towards the heavens, straining desperatly to hear but a chord of those songs sung among the stars.
-
Sineliniel
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Sun Sep 30, 2007 11:31 pm
- Location: Felwithe
The golden-haired maiden approached Lady Verlaine’s home.
“Come in Lady Sineliniel.” Came the voice of the Elder Ban`Dal Druidess. “Come join me by the fire and tell me what troubles you so to bring you to my door in the middle of the night.”
Sineliniel sat beside the elder Shadowbane and told her of the nightmares.
“I am afraid, M’Lady.” Said the Koada`Dal. “He is my rock. You know that I walk a very narrow thread. The path of balance is not an easy one.”
“I know my dear. However, as my grandson told you, you have not seen what lies beyond the dream. The Queen of Nightmares only shows you what she wants you to see of these visions. You must have faith that Tunare and Mithaniel Marr have more for you beyond that which you have seen thus far.”
“Thank you M’Lady. Gilliadson has told me these same things but I guess I needed to hear it from another as well. I do feel more at ease.”
“That is good. Now that I have some time alone with you, I need you to perform a task.”
“What task M’Lady?”
“I do know that some of your people have strong feelings about chastity before bonding but I am not sure how you feel about it.”
“The subject has never been broached between Gilliadson and I however, if he had asked me, I would not have refused.”
“That is good but I need you to tempt him before your bonding. I know that there are strong feelings between you two. If he turns you down, do not be disappointed but give him this token and tell him to come see me.” Verlaine handed Sineliniel a small gold coin. “Ask me no questions concerning this right now. All will be made clear soon enough.”
“I will do as you request M’Lady. I must now return to my Leofa. Fluffy has informed me that he is awake. I do not want him to worry about me too much. Thank you so much M’Lady.” Sineliniel kissed the elder Ban`Dal on the cheek as the two ladies embraced.
“Farewell child.” Said Verlaine as the Koada`Dal left the house.
Sineliniel made her way back to the house to find that all that were awake were outside at the pond. Sineliniel arrived at the pond just in time to hear Jetamio’s question. The elementalist moved beside her betrothed, took his hand and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Vi khess dos.” Sineliniel whispered into the knight’s ear.
“Dro Vi dos, mia Khess.” Gilliadson whispered back.
“I do understand, Lady Jetamio.” Sineliniel almost sang the words.
“Come in Lady Sineliniel.” Came the voice of the Elder Ban`Dal Druidess. “Come join me by the fire and tell me what troubles you so to bring you to my door in the middle of the night.”
Sineliniel sat beside the elder Shadowbane and told her of the nightmares.
“I am afraid, M’Lady.” Said the Koada`Dal. “He is my rock. You know that I walk a very narrow thread. The path of balance is not an easy one.”
“I know my dear. However, as my grandson told you, you have not seen what lies beyond the dream. The Queen of Nightmares only shows you what she wants you to see of these visions. You must have faith that Tunare and Mithaniel Marr have more for you beyond that which you have seen thus far.”
“Thank you M’Lady. Gilliadson has told me these same things but I guess I needed to hear it from another as well. I do feel more at ease.”
“That is good. Now that I have some time alone with you, I need you to perform a task.”
“What task M’Lady?”
“I do know that some of your people have strong feelings about chastity before bonding but I am not sure how you feel about it.”
“The subject has never been broached between Gilliadson and I however, if he had asked me, I would not have refused.”
“That is good but I need you to tempt him before your bonding. I know that there are strong feelings between you two. If he turns you down, do not be disappointed but give him this token and tell him to come see me.” Verlaine handed Sineliniel a small gold coin. “Ask me no questions concerning this right now. All will be made clear soon enough.”
“I will do as you request M’Lady. I must now return to my Leofa. Fluffy has informed me that he is awake. I do not want him to worry about me too much. Thank you so much M’Lady.” Sineliniel kissed the elder Ban`Dal on the cheek as the two ladies embraced.
“Farewell child.” Said Verlaine as the Koada`Dal left the house.
Sineliniel made her way back to the house to find that all that were awake were outside at the pond. Sineliniel arrived at the pond just in time to hear Jetamio’s question. The elementalist moved beside her betrothed, took his hand and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Vi khess dos.” Sineliniel whispered into the knight’s ear.
“Dro Vi dos, mia Khess.” Gilliadson whispered back.
“I do understand, Lady Jetamio.” Sineliniel almost sang the words.
-
Gilliadson
- Posts: 517
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2007 11:52 pm
- Location: A cottage in Kelethin
- Contact:
The Paladin watched as Jetamio contemplated. He felt the warmth of his Leofa’s body against his as she returned to his side and took his hand. The two exchanged whispered words of love as Jetamio asked her question. Gilliadson was still tossing around questions in his mind. Gilliadson was not quite sure of her meaning so he stood there silently as he awaited answers to the questions that he already had. The only thing the music of the box could not provide to him was answers.
She nodded at their replies, her eyes still on the water as she waited for it to still again.
“You seek answers.” She stated simply to all of them and no one. Then she leaned forwards a little and touched the water with the very tip of her finger, the slight ripple making the glassy surface give way to a different place, in a different time. The forest of the Faydark is recognisable although definitely younger, the great giants of today barely even saplings, and the giants of then reaching the end of their time before they would fall back to the ground from whence they came and nourish their children…
She was soaked to the skin and obviously lost. She stumbled blindly in the dark, the only light to show her the way forwards coming from the lightning that flickered overhead, though even that was dimmed a little by the dense canopy overhead. She shivered, and shook her black hair out of her eyes and the water off her nose, before carrying on. She blinked in the darkness in between flashes. Was that light up ahead?
“Hello? Wait!” she shouted in Elvish, though with a Qeynosian accent. She sprang forwards with renewed vigour, desperate not to let the light out of her sight. But she was not all that familiar with the woods of her fathers people, and lacked his night vision. She didn’t see the gnarled root of one of the ancients poking out of the ground and tripped over it with a sickening crack as her foot got caught and she fell forwards to land flat on her face.
She need not have shouted. The little orb of golden light had been waiting for her, dancing just out of sight until the last moment. It had not planned for her to fall, though it felt no guilt either. It was not capable of such emotions, or any emotion really, for such a concept was unfamiliar to it. It danced slowly along towards the fallen Half Elf, being joined on the way by more tiny golden orbs. The danced among each other as they went, converging into a bigger form, a roughly humanoid form of golden light, no bigger than a young Elven child. It hovered near her, touching her, brushing the hair from her face. The woman stirred slightly, awakening briefly to reveal eyes of vivid green. She must have thought she was dreaming though for she groaned softly and closed her eyes again. The spirit cocked its head as though listening to something far off before nodding to itself and then leaping into the air, dispersing again into the tiny little golden orbs that then fell gently on the woman like snow, each landing softly on her torso and disappearing. Then all was dark again.
The storm had been nourishing, replenishing the forest after the heat of the summer so far. Many were out gathering food and other things for the Solstice. The old seer watched the rangers come home from his platform, intrigued by the burden they carried between them. He turned from the scene and started his slow walk to the healers hall where he knew they would take the Half Elf woman with the broken leg.
He knew who she was, and the part she played, for he had Seen this. Even last night he had dreamt again of her and knew that she would come today. His only regret was that her coming signified his end, his only wish that he be allowed to live long enough to see the Child born.
The cry of a newborn pierced the cool early spring air, though soon stopped when laid in its mother’s warm arms. Neja looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms, her first child, a girl. The baby stared up at her with eyes that were already gold instead of the normal bluish-brown of most newborns, and she had the distinct impression the child could see her clearly. A soft down of fiery red hair covered her head and Neja felt a tiny stab of fear. The child looked nothing like her, and if it weren’t for the fact that she had just birthed her moments before, she would not have believed it was hers. Again she wondered at the whole situation, for while she was far from celibate, she knew she had not been seeing anyone around that time. At first she had wondered if one of those who found her had perhaps taken advantage, but she knew these people were not like that. The only thing she could think of was the strange gold light she had seen, but how silly did that sound? She could have dreamt it after all, though at a deeper level she knew better.
“Who are you?” she whispered softly.
“She is Altáriël.” A voice answered from the doorway. She looked up to find the old Seer watching her. Despite the fact the women were still cleaning her up, she did not feel offended by his presence.
“I had chosen the name Jetamio for a girl.” She answered.
He shrugged slightly. “Call her what you will, you asked who she was. I have told you.”
She frowned in confusion, and looked down at the baby again. When she looked up again, he was gone.
“I’m telling you, it is Her.” The Seer sat calmly as the Elder paced.
“How can you be so sure? The mother is not even Fier’Dal.”
“She is half Fie-“
The Elder waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever then, half Fier’Dal, but still! How do you know her child is Altáriël?”
“I just do…why do you doubt me now, when you never have before? Are you afraid to believe?”
The Elder gave him a sharp look. He met his gaze unflinching as he continued. “It is her, I know it.”
“I hope you are right, for if not, what you suggest is blasphemy. And we must leave her unguided, to learn her own path?”
The Seer nodded.
The Elder sighed and went to the window, looking over the treetop city. He didn’t move for a long time, not even noticing the old man leave the room.
Various other visions flickered across the water, images of a wild unruly child, growing into a woman identical to the woman sitting before them at the poolside. Images of the deeds she had done, both good and bad as she followed the inexplicable urge to learn all she could of the world, all the while oblivious to her own true nature.
She pulled her hand back a moment, letting the water return to normal as what she had shown them sunk in enough to show them the rest. She said nothing, nor did she look up.
“You seek answers.” She stated simply to all of them and no one. Then she leaned forwards a little and touched the water with the very tip of her finger, the slight ripple making the glassy surface give way to a different place, in a different time. The forest of the Faydark is recognisable although definitely younger, the great giants of today barely even saplings, and the giants of then reaching the end of their time before they would fall back to the ground from whence they came and nourish their children…
She was soaked to the skin and obviously lost. She stumbled blindly in the dark, the only light to show her the way forwards coming from the lightning that flickered overhead, though even that was dimmed a little by the dense canopy overhead. She shivered, and shook her black hair out of her eyes and the water off her nose, before carrying on. She blinked in the darkness in between flashes. Was that light up ahead?
“Hello? Wait!” she shouted in Elvish, though with a Qeynosian accent. She sprang forwards with renewed vigour, desperate not to let the light out of her sight. But she was not all that familiar with the woods of her fathers people, and lacked his night vision. She didn’t see the gnarled root of one of the ancients poking out of the ground and tripped over it with a sickening crack as her foot got caught and she fell forwards to land flat on her face.
She need not have shouted. The little orb of golden light had been waiting for her, dancing just out of sight until the last moment. It had not planned for her to fall, though it felt no guilt either. It was not capable of such emotions, or any emotion really, for such a concept was unfamiliar to it. It danced slowly along towards the fallen Half Elf, being joined on the way by more tiny golden orbs. The danced among each other as they went, converging into a bigger form, a roughly humanoid form of golden light, no bigger than a young Elven child. It hovered near her, touching her, brushing the hair from her face. The woman stirred slightly, awakening briefly to reveal eyes of vivid green. She must have thought she was dreaming though for she groaned softly and closed her eyes again. The spirit cocked its head as though listening to something far off before nodding to itself and then leaping into the air, dispersing again into the tiny little golden orbs that then fell gently on the woman like snow, each landing softly on her torso and disappearing. Then all was dark again.
The storm had been nourishing, replenishing the forest after the heat of the summer so far. Many were out gathering food and other things for the Solstice. The old seer watched the rangers come home from his platform, intrigued by the burden they carried between them. He turned from the scene and started his slow walk to the healers hall where he knew they would take the Half Elf woman with the broken leg.
He knew who she was, and the part she played, for he had Seen this. Even last night he had dreamt again of her and knew that she would come today. His only regret was that her coming signified his end, his only wish that he be allowed to live long enough to see the Child born.
The cry of a newborn pierced the cool early spring air, though soon stopped when laid in its mother’s warm arms. Neja looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms, her first child, a girl. The baby stared up at her with eyes that were already gold instead of the normal bluish-brown of most newborns, and she had the distinct impression the child could see her clearly. A soft down of fiery red hair covered her head and Neja felt a tiny stab of fear. The child looked nothing like her, and if it weren’t for the fact that she had just birthed her moments before, she would not have believed it was hers. Again she wondered at the whole situation, for while she was far from celibate, she knew she had not been seeing anyone around that time. At first she had wondered if one of those who found her had perhaps taken advantage, but she knew these people were not like that. The only thing she could think of was the strange gold light she had seen, but how silly did that sound? She could have dreamt it after all, though at a deeper level she knew better.
“Who are you?” she whispered softly.
“She is Altáriël.” A voice answered from the doorway. She looked up to find the old Seer watching her. Despite the fact the women were still cleaning her up, she did not feel offended by his presence.
“I had chosen the name Jetamio for a girl.” She answered.
He shrugged slightly. “Call her what you will, you asked who she was. I have told you.”
She frowned in confusion, and looked down at the baby again. When she looked up again, he was gone.
“I’m telling you, it is Her.” The Seer sat calmly as the Elder paced.
“How can you be so sure? The mother is not even Fier’Dal.”
“She is half Fie-“
The Elder waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever then, half Fier’Dal, but still! How do you know her child is Altáriël?”
“I just do…why do you doubt me now, when you never have before? Are you afraid to believe?”
The Elder gave him a sharp look. He met his gaze unflinching as he continued. “It is her, I know it.”
“I hope you are right, for if not, what you suggest is blasphemy. And we must leave her unguided, to learn her own path?”
The Seer nodded.
The Elder sighed and went to the window, looking over the treetop city. He didn’t move for a long time, not even noticing the old man leave the room.
Various other visions flickered across the water, images of a wild unruly child, growing into a woman identical to the woman sitting before them at the poolside. Images of the deeds she had done, both good and bad as she followed the inexplicable urge to learn all she could of the world, all the while oblivious to her own true nature.
She pulled her hand back a moment, letting the water return to normal as what she had shown them sunk in enough to show them the rest. She said nothing, nor did she look up.
-
Gilliadson
- Posts: 517
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2007 11:52 pm
- Location: A cottage in Kelethin
- Contact:
-
Sineliniel
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Sun Sep 30, 2007 11:31 pm
- Location: Felwithe
Altáriël... Daja a Ulilin... The Elementalist had been told a few stories when she was a child but they had faded into the darkest recesses of her memories other than the name. She was a child of legend born long before Sineliniel's mother and aunt. Supposedly an Immortal. Well if this woman who barely appeared Sineliniel's age was this legend then it would explain much. These thoughts ran through the Koada`Dal's mind as she barely noticed her beloved covering her shoulder with his cloak. Absent-mindedly Sineliniel reached up and gently stroked her Leofa's cheek.
Daja a vell Kirelna Damman
Daja a vell Kirelna Damman
Alsurin shivered, suddenly feeling the air's chill. Yet, what was this ice deep below his skin, fear? For a second he was daunted, confronted with powers beyond his control. It was a feeling to which the scholar was decidedly unfamiliar , something that should only expeirenced within a dream. What under the sky was he doing here? The acclaimed archmagus began to wonder if he hadn't underestimated the nobility of rice farming.
Alsurin Sunveil, summoner of Keikolin
Let me forsake all to reach towards the heavens, straining desperatly to hear but a chord of those songs sung among the stars.
Let me forsake all to reach towards the heavens, straining desperatly to hear but a chord of those songs sung among the stars.
Will edit this post with it later/tomorrow (its not a small one hehe) ))-
Stormfollower
- Posts: 488
- Joined: Fri Oct 27, 2006 11:05 pm
- Location: Unknown
Stormfolower sat quietly, watching the memories unfold within the reflective surface of the pool. He leaned forward and studied the scenes intently, taking in each detail with great facination. Breathing deeply of the cool wind the big shaman grew visibly refreshed. His mind harkened back fondly to the short time when he had lived amoungst those self same saplings. They had grown much larger by the time he had climbed thier knoble branches. He marveled at the distance Jetamios images had flung them into the past.
Her hand tightened slightly on the little music box though nowhere near tight enough to damage it. She took a deep breath and gave an involuntary shudder. To understand, they would have to see what she had become, what grief had driven her to, the Dark path she had walked for a time when she believed all to be lost and all hope dead. She focused her thoughts on a time not so long ago, skipping a good few centuries. She centred on the time when she left her self imposed exile of three hundred years, during which she had been known as Kalsari Deoradhan. She left it out for two reasons, one being that she had done little of significance during that time, and the other being that she didn’t think it a good idea that they realise the young sanguine had been named after her.
She leaned forwards and touched the water again, focusing on the first time she had come close to Tajer…
From her rooftop perch beside the chimney, a woman who was Tier'Dal and yet not, watched them leave, her golden eyes never leaving the priestess. She stood perfectly still, only a few strands of her long pale hair moving in the almost non existent breeze. She knew that the priestess would not see her, despite her sense of uneasiness, but the Knight was another matter. She only hoped that the knight would be looking for the un-natural rather than the shroud of camouflage she hid herself in.
She breathed a sigh of relief as they rode out of sight and slumped down against the chimney, tears running down her cheeks. How she wanted to talk with Tajer, hold her, but could not. To reveal herself could endanger Tajer. While she watched over the young ones activities in Norrath, she could not enter the place the priestess had made her home. And while her own tormented soul had twisted her, turning her away from the light, she sensed the hatred in that dark castle, and knew instinctively that the Lord her granddaughter had sworn allegiance to would never let her past the gates.
She tucked up her knees to her chin and folded her arms over them. With a muffled sob she let her illusion drop. For so long she had taken the form of a Tier'Dal, and could do it at will. But now twilight skin faded to pale skin tinted with oaken hues. Buried in her arms, a face remarkably like Tajer's, only instead of the dark eyes of the priestess, hers were liquid gold. Pale hair darkened to fiery red, and hung long and untamed around her shoulders. Her camouflage dropped too, and she sat there on the roof, where any who passed could see her for what she was. She picked up a great spiked staff, glowing with the vibrancy of life, and jumped, uttering a spell on her descent. A shaggy black wolf landed nimbly and bolted into the surrounding hills without missing a stride. When she began to tire she stopped and howled.
A wolf howled. Shetan snorted and flicked his ears in the direction of the sound. Tajer frowned. There were no wolves this close to the citadel. But although it sounded like a wolf, there was such anguish laced through it that it made her wonder. When there was no second howl, she dismissed it, and carried on towards a warm room and a meal.
As darkness fell, Jetamio lay curled in her wolf form, asleep, but in fitful dreams of what could have been...
~*~
Tajer blinks and shields her eyes from the light as someone enters, and once her eyes adjust she sees Laisy. She tries to sit up, but at best only manages to rest on an elbow and look around, a little confused as to why she is in this cave. Her eyes fall on the twitching druid, and suddenly as though a penny dropped, she remembers.
She had travelled alone in the infinite black void, where there is nothing, not even time itself. Just nothing. Then a strong presence had come to her, fighting its way through to her, and she had sensed and wondered at the desperation of this presence to reach her. Then suddenly she had "felt" this presence grab her hand. For an instant she could see everything. Her mind was linked with this presence, see all its memories, its knowledge and its fears, and she knew too that it could feel her. She felt it brace itself then pull violently, and how it hurt more than anything she had ever known, but she knew it was hurting the other far more. Then she screamed as she was pulled back into her own realm.
"She came for me" she says weakly and struggles across to the druid. Jetamio still lay curled up and shaking, but her eyes followed Tajer. The priestess knelt beside her, and summoning what little power she could summon in her state, she healed the druids physical pain and she lay still at last. But to look into her eyes it was known she was lost. Tajer looked over her and felt pity, a feeling she was not familiar with.
"Her mind is broken." she say half to herself and half to Laisy. "So much power, locked away in a broken mind...." she stopped suddenly remembering something. She laid a hand on Jetamio, forcing the druid to look at her. "You must let the wild take you, become the wolf. Only that way can you began to recover...if at all."
The elf stared at Tajer for a few seconds then began to laugh, a mad hysterical laugh, which after a few moments infuriated the cleric. She shouted at her. The druid stopped laughing and glared at Tajer.
"Become the wolf. Now!"
Jetamio snarled and rose to her feet, but by the time she was standing she was in the form of a huge shaggy black wolf. She bolted from the cave, dodging nimbly around Laisy as she left.
Drained of her little energy the cleric slumped against the cave wall and looked up at Laisy.
"I want to go home"
~*~
The lift shuddered to a stop. The Tier'Dal Priestess stepped off onto the treetop platform, a shaggy black wolf just behind her, attached by a silken lead. She feels a little uncomfortable, it seems too much like the treetop elf city, but she is also nervous of the task she is about to undertake. From this platform are six pathways to other platforms, each ending in the dwelling of a Dragon, the Circle of Crystalwing. Her gaze fall on the red dragon, Atathus the Red Lord. Her stomach lurched, but when she looked back at the wolf chasing her own tail oblivious to the giggling Drakkin children watching, she knew she had to do it. She tugged on the silken rope, and led her towards the red dragon.
As she drew near, she noticed a change in the wolf. She became more alert, her hackles rising. Tajer frowned, realising that Jetamio must have been a killer of dragons. In wolf form, she was living mostly by instincts, and she viewed the dragons as her foes. This could create problems with her plan.
"Hush, Jeta" she said softly. The wolf calmed slightly, but Tajer could still feel the low rumbling growl.
Atathus turned his crimson eyes upon the strange pair. It lingered a moment more on the wolf. He chuckled softly at the wolf's growl and bared teeth, before addressing the Priestess. "Unbind the Stormcaller. In this form, she is too wild."
Tajer uttered a word, dispelling the wolf. In its place, a red haired wood elf stood, golden eyes wild, flitting around the room as she saw things through her own eyes for the first time in months. Her eyes narrowed upon the dragon, but she made no move to harm him. While Tajer knew that she was a very powerful druid, she was pretty sure the dragon could end her life without batting an eyelid. She was glad Jetamio had enough sense left to realise it too.
Atathus looked over the druid closely, as though evaluating her. He then turned his attention back to the Tier'Dal. "I hope you know of what you ask. It will strip her of her power, power she has spent centuries accumulating. She will be but a child compared to what she is now. She will lose it all."
"Look at her. She talks to things that are not there, sets fire to my property without even realising it. Yes she is powerful, but she has no control over it. She is a danger to herself and others this way. Its why I bound her in wolf form." she glanced back at Jetamio, who was muttering away to unseen things. "This way is her only chance of freedom from her cage. I cant hold her forever."
The dragon snorted. "Very well. There is one more thing. The one who controls the Scale of Veeshan is half elf, half dragon. After seeing what he has done, we will not touch the Elves with our blood. Luckily the Stormcaller has some human heritage, through her mothers line. We will work with that to disguise her."
The dragon became quiet and before long Tajer could feel a tension growing in the room. She saw the dragon clench his clawed fist, drawing blood, which he seemed very careful not to drip.
Suddenly Jetamio's head snapped towards the dragon. There was no trace of the madness in her eyes, she was completely aware of her surroundings. But she had no time to react, for she met the dragons gaze, and froze in shock, a cry on her lips that wouldn’t escape. Atathus the Red Lord raised his bleeding claw and slashed the druid across her chest. She screamed in agony now, but was cut short when he placed his own bloody claw upon her wound. She stood with a transfixed look upon her face as the magic in the dragons blood began to take effect. Her whole body began to glow, brighter and brighter, until so bright that Tajer had to shield her eyes.
Then it stopped. Tajer dropped her hands and looked. Jetamio was kneeling on the floor, breathing heavily. Atathus was standing a little back, a smug expression on his face.
"I normally let the process manifest itself over a few weeks, even months. But I sense you do not intend to leave her among her new kin, so I accelerated it, making her full Drakkin now. I also bent another rule of the Six. I used her power against her, using it to keep her memories intact, but stripping her of any ability to use magic." he smirked, "I hope she is adept with a blade."
Tajer approached Jetamio cautiously, unsure of her state of mind. The Drakkin seemed to sense her and looked up at her. The priestesses breath caught in her throat. Her eyes were clear of their madness, the guilt, and torment that had haunted them before. They were still golden, but she had no white of her eyes, and her pupils were slitted, like a cats. Her long red hair was stiffer, and in a strange style, hanging long at the sides and short at the back. Small sparkling red scales covered her body in intricate tattoos, and tiny red horns protruded her skin in a regular pattern across her otherwise human looking face.
Tajer reached out her hand, offering support. Jetamio rose shakily to her feet and met the dragons gaze again. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but no sound seemed to come out. She frowned, glancing at Tajer who in turn looked to Atathus.
"Her speech will come back. I have never created a child so fast, I am unsure of the time scale of her recovery." He turned to retreat to his private chambers, but then stopped. "She will keep her own name, to give her a Dragon name is pointless, because she remembers who she is. But remember she is not what she was, she is no longer a druid. Her thoughts are already changing as we speak, she no longer looks upon my kind as enemy for a start. She is adjusting, becoming familiar with her new form, and her lack of magic. But she is not powerless Tajer. Her power is her knowledge, her memories. One day it may save you. Good bye Tier'Dal, and be discreet when you leave. This ritual was not exactly by the books..." And with that he turned his back on them.
The air still tingled with the magic that had taken place. Jetamio was looking around her, adjusting to new vision again. She jumped slightly, startled when Tajer untied the silken collar that she still wore. Carefully, the Priestess also removed the torn and bloody clothes, but the skin was unscathed, as if she had never been touched. Jetamio watched her every move, as Tajer got out some simple clothes she had brought along in a bag and helped to dress her. She left the old clothes in a corner, they were too small now anyway with the Drakkin being much taller then the wood elf that once wore them.
"Why?"
Tajer looked up at the echoey but otherwise rich voice. By the look on her face, it had taken much effort to say this one word.
"Because I owe you it. You brought me back from the Void. Even if indirectly you sent me there in the first place, you came back for me. Now we are even."
The Drakkin nodded after a moment, then stood patiently. Tajer cast one last look towards the dragons chambers, but he was not to be seen.
"Let's go"
~*~
It had been Jetamio's idea to come here, but Tajer was not so sure now. The creatures here regarded them both with dark looks, although none made a move towards them. Jetamio moved among them indifferent to their looks, looking for familiar faces from when she had last been here years before. Tajer walked behind her, but wishing they could go home. These strange looking things that Jetamio told her were Shiliskin unnerved her.
Jetamio glanced back at her, catching the look on her face and grinned. They passed through the small hamlet, and Tajer went to mount Shetan again.
"We will have a swim in a minute, no point dragging him too." the Drakkin said. Tajer sighed, and ordered him to stand. The stallion snorted in disgust but didn’t move.
Jetamio entered the water and swam swiftly across to the opposite bank. Tajer was not so strong a swimmer, but made it across without difficulty. Jetamio was already picking shrooms from the cavern floor, talking away about the properties of each as though Tajer was listening. When she realised Tajer wasn’t listening she looked over to find Tajer gazing up the embankment into the strange treelike plants above.
"What’s up there?"
The rogue shrugged. "The werewolves live in a den deep in there. I wouldn't go up there if I were you."
It's so silent. Tajer whispered, and felt herself drawn to the eerie place. She started scrabbling up the embankment. Wait! Jetamio called, but Tajer was already half way up. Cursing, the rogue started up after her. When she came over the lip of the embankment, her blood ran cold.
Tajer was standing face to face with a huge werewolf and seemed frozen to the spot in fear.
RUN! she screamed.
But the werewolf had already struck, and Jetamio heard the sickening crack of Tajer's neck snapping. Before the stricken Priestess had even hit the ground, the rogue had launched herself through the air, dagger in hand, relying on instinct and rage alone. She landed on the stunned werewolf’s back and stabbed her dagger deep into its neck. It convulsed violently, dislodging her and she fell to the ground winded, but her aim had been true and it too slumped to the ground.
Catching her breath, she got back to her feet and went to Tajer. She knew it was no use though, and simply gazed at her, lying as though asleep but with her slender neck at a grotesque angle. Gold caught the rogues eye, and she reached down and pulled the necklace from Tajer. It was the one from the jewellery box back home, the dragon engraved into a strange black material, and encircled in gold. She wondered if Tajer had ever known its origins. The black was a scale taken from Vishimtar the Fallen and she had given it to her son, Tajer's father, many years ago. She clenched it tight in her fist, still feeling traces of the dragons power calling to her own dragon infused blood.
She shook her head, realising she was crying, and slipped the gold chain over her head. She wrenched her dagger from the werewolves throat, wiped the blade on the ground and resheathed it. She then picked up Tajer's lifeless body and headed back to Shetan.
She pushed him faster and faster, spurring him on til he was at a flat out gallop towards the Castle. At a subconscious level she knew she could kill the stallion, but now only rage and grief possessed her. Once again she had lost what she loved most, and her anger was at fate, which seemed determined to make her live a lonely life. As she came in sight of the castle gates, the guards went to bar her way. But they must have seen the look on her face, and recognised the body of the dark elf lying across her knees in the saddle, and they moved aside, letting her storm into the courtyard and skid to a halt. Shetan could barely stand, his sides heaving and lathered in white sweat. Jetamio threw back her head and yelled, oblivious to the torrential rain that sluiced over her now.
~*~
The Drakkin lead the way, riding atop the strangely calm Shetan. She looked straight ahead, her face a frozen mask, devoid of apparent emotion. Behind her, a horse drawn cart, upon which was a simple carved boat, filled with firewood and incense. Upon this obvious pyre, a Teir'Dal woman lay as though asleep, dressed in her grey silk dress and her arms folded across her belly. Behind this, a priest from Neriak. Jetamio had left a note on a notice board within the Castle, invited the House to come if they so wished.
The tiny procession wound its way down to the Ocean of Tears. The rogue had picked a secluded spot, away from prying eyes. She helped drag the pyre to the waters edge. As the Tier'Dal priest said a small sermon, the Drakkin poured some pitch over the wood in the boat, careful not to spill it over Tajer's dress. Then she stood as the priest continued, simply staring at Tajer. She would kill any werewolf in her path for this.
When he finished, Jetamio lit a torch and touched it to the wood in a few places, ensuring the fire was burning all over. She looked once more through the flames at Tajer's peaceful face, before giving the boat a good shove. The flames didn’t bother her, her scaled skin more resistant than others. The little boat slipped into the water and started to drift off.
Their work done, the priest and the man who had driven the cart headed out, leaving the Drakkin staring out to sea as the pyre drifted further and further out, the flames burning brightly in the twilight. She knew it was a rather unorthodox funeral for the Tier'Dal, but nothing could reach her there, no one to dig her up again, abuse her corpse. There was also the fact that she hadn't known where the Ebudae family tomb was, and as the Priestess' next of kin, and heir, it had been up to her to decide what to do.
The stallion came up behind her, blowing down the back of her neck, but she ignored him, only sighed and watched the sea, a single tear running down her cheek.
~*~
She held her arm out straight in front of her, a handful of hair clenched in her fist. Dangling from the hair was a head, the head of a centaur. With a sour look, she let go, dropping the head at the feet of the Red Dragon Atathus.
“Nestor's head, as requested.”
The Dragon looked down at the mutilated head, then on Jetamio.
"I am satisfied", Then with a hint of reluctance, "prepare yourself as I awaken some of the power within you." The Drakkin closed her eyes as the fires leapt through her blood, not in pain, but in relief. She had been late in delivering it and the fire often tore at her inside as though trying to claw it's way out. The Dragons touch alleviated the burning for a while as the fires found new places within her, opened by his magic. She opened her eyes again to find Atathus shaking his head at her. "Why do you leave it so long? Have you not realised it gets worse the longer you leave it?"
“Of course I have. I've just had better things to do than run around doing your tasks.”
Atathus snorted. "Why do you resist? You cannot change what you are."
“Exactly! I cannot change who I am either! You will always look upon me with disdain.” Her eyes still glowing slightly from the awakening as she thinks a moment. “Why did you do it anyway? What pact did you make with my granddaughter that would make you go against your instincts and touch me with your blood?”
The Dragons eyes burned bright, obviously irritated at being questioned by her. He shot a glance in the direction of the other dragons before glaring back down at her. "Keep your voice down rogue, this is not a private place. The pact I made with the Priestess is none of your concern! We both swore an oath of silence and I will not break it."
Jetamio glowered at him. He regained his composure, studying her. “Disdain you say? What would make you think I had reason to look upon you such?”
Jetamio looked away, looking out over the meadow that the treetop platform was in. New Drakkin milled around, a look of wonder on many a face. “I have reason.”
Atathus watched her, comprehension dawning on him. "Aaah, you have read the Lore of your new people. Curiosity did get the better of you after all."
The rogue refused to look at him but her face was a mixture of irritation and guilt. Eventually she nodded. “I did.”
She turned back to look at him, the irritation gone, only a weariness left. “I just followed orders, I didn’t know this would happen.”
“You were no friend of Veeshans brood anyway.
“Well they always wanted to pick a fight, did you think I would just stand there and let them?”
“They were defending their nests.”
“Well I didn’t know that, I’m not a psychic.”
The Dragon continued to glare at here as he spoke. “Had you known, would you still have killed the Storm Dragon, and the Guardian?”
“No…but I would not have been able to stop the others anyway. I was not of high rank at the time. Even if I had not gone, they would still have killed Yar’Lir and Vishimtar. Venrils curse would still have been triggered. The Nest would still have been destroyed”. She looked away again, out over the meadow as Atathus mulled it over. He sighed, a deep throaty sound that if it had been any louder would have been more a growl.
“I can not blame you alone for what happened.” She turned back to look at him. “But you are the first and only one of those involved to come here, albeit that you brought here by another. I have placed the entire blame on you for the actions of your House. This was perhaps, a little unfair.”
“A little?” A hint of sarcasm in her voice.
His gaze hardened again. “But you were still involved, and you will not be forgiven that.” He paused a moment. “But I will try not to look upon you with such disdain…”
The Drakkin shook her head, still confused. “So why did you touch me? I don’t understand, if you felt such a way about me, why would you do it? Why make your enemy, one of your blood? Whether I ever call you Father or not is irrelevant, your blood still burns through my veins! Why Dragon, why did you touch me?”
Atathus looked at her, obviously amused at her frustration. “I will not tell you rogue. As I have already said, I swore an oath of silence to the one who brought you to me, just as she swore to me.”
“Ach!” She turns away in disgust, then is quiet a moment. She turns back around. “She is dead. And they think I killed her.” She sighs and slides down the wall til she is sitting, and tucks her knees up under her chin, her face in her hands.
“Who does?”
She drops her hands. “The Dynasty. I took her to them, it was her home. They could not save her either. They took me in. But last night, one of them accused me of her murder.”
“You still live, you must have proved otherwise?”
She shakes her head. “The jury is simply out on the matter I feel. But it doesn’t look good, all the evidence goes against me at the moment.”
“And did you kill her?”
She glares up at him a mixture of anger and disbelief. “No, I did not! Why would you think that?! Why does anyone think it? “
“I didn’t say I thought you did, I only asked if you did. I am not a mind reader either."
Jetamio glowered. After a moment she said quietly. “There is only one who knew me before Tajer was killed. A few others had seen me around, but she knew me in my previous form. She was there when I first spoke to Tajer. But I do not know if she will help. She cared for Tajer, a lot. I think she knows I would not have harmed her, but for all I know she will blame me for the loss.”
“You could stay here you know. This is your home too, you are Drakkin whether you accept it or not. And I know you feel the call, or you would not come here at all.”
She stood up. “I can’t stay here. To run away would only give them more reason to accuse me. She looked him dead in the eye. I will not run from my troubles again. I will face them, even if it means I must die.”
Atathus nodded. “As you wish rogue. I was only offering.”
She looked at him a moment more then nodded, before she turned and left.
~*~
The Drakkin watched in silence a respectable distance from the Necromancer as he worked his magic. Dark mists whirled and eddied on the table before her, slowly rebuilding the body from the tiny chip of bone she had spent days searching for. There had once been a time she had frowned upon necromancy, but now she did not care. The hurt was too strong, the loneliness ran too deep. She had learned of their ability to raise the dead, even months later, and had employed one of the House Necromancers.
He had warned her that she would likely not come back whole, though he too had missed the Priestess and would do his best to return her as best he could. He had offered to use a soul of those he had killed before but she had refused, insisting on only using her own essence to power the spell.
The familiar body now took solid form and lay still as death upon the stone table. But a whispered incantation over the glowing green stone containing Jetamio’s essence breathed life into the body as the stone waned rapidly. She felt a tug at something deep inside her as he did so, but nothing like the relief and joy that leapt up inside her as Tajer suddenly took a deep shuddering breath.
~*~
Two Tier’Dal sat close together at the bar in the Hall, speaking in hushed tones. The one in pink tinted armour was an emotional wreck, remembering things she thought she had forgotten but also coming to terms with her newly acquired mortality. With the younger priestess seeming to be the only one who had any idea what was going on, Tensirea had cornered Tajer and demanded answers. Tajer had tried to evade the answers at first but now leaned in closer to the other so no one else would over hear her.
“Her blood gave you life, because she is Life.” She pauses a moment before continuing. “No one knows who Jetamio's real father is...her mother was not a whore, but the calculations didn’t work out...Atathus believes she is born of Tunare's essence”
Tensirea’s eyes widened in surprise and also a touch of fear for her Drakkin friend. To be such a being in a Dark House…Haavok would surely kill her if he found out. Tajer simply nodded grimly.
~*~
She closed the door behind her and leant against it for support. A few sobs wracked her body as she tried to come to terms with it all. Ankari showing up out of nowhere, Tensirea's idea to taste a drop of their blood to see if Ankari really was who she claimed. That alone had been shock enough. But to find the vampire the next day, admiring her reflection in the mirror as the sun streamed in the window, her heart beating once more, un-nerved the rogue more than she let on. All from one tiny drop of her blood, Tajer reinforcing this with almost grim certainty, but refusing to elaborate as to why.
Then they called her the Drakkin of Destiny, bringing laughter and mockery from the Priestess whom Jetamio did not care much for of late. And she knew the feeling was mutual. It all added to her frustration.
But through it all, she had dreamed vivid dreams, since the night she slept in Plane of Growth four nights before. She did not know what had led her there that night. But Tunare had come to her in her dreams, saying nothing, but Jetamio understood.
She stepped away from the door, heading down the hall in silence. She paused outside one room. She stood perfectly still for a moment pondering. Then she slipped into shadows, gingerly picking the lock and opening the door quietly. Upon a huge pile of various treasures he slept. In any other circumstance this would have bemused her, but for now she paid no heed. Silently she made her way across to him, stopping beside him, looking down on his sleeping face. Her fingers itched to trace the flaming markings across his face and head, but instead she did something else. She slowly leant over and kissed his forehead ever so softly so as not to wake him. Slowly she backed off, drinking in the sight of him, then left the room, carefully locking the door again. Then she left.
She was just beyond sight of the gates when she heard someone call her name. Turning she saw Tajer running towards her and frowned. The Priestess stopped near her, her face slightly flushed from the run.
“Where are you going?” she asked in a slightly strained voice, her heart already knowing the answer.
Jetamio looked at her for a moment, then turned and carried on. Tajer caught her up and grabbed her shoulder, forcing the rogue to face her. She looked into the eyes of a woman she suddenly realized she didn’t truly know. Yes, they were kin, but it seemed little more than that now.
“You're going back aren't you?”
Jetamio nodded slightly. “Go home Tajer. Your path is not with me.”
Tajer looked back at the castle she had called home since she was a mere 12 seasons, then back to Jetamio. “If you go, I must too. I cannot stay.” Her eyes plead with the Drakkin, but she knows it's lost. Jetamio shakes her head slightly and continues to walk, Tajer letting go of her arm and watching in despair. She hung back watching her.
“If you want to know....and I mean really want to know why...why things are as they are....ask Tensirea. I told her.”
Jetamio pauses a moment, taking the words in but she doesn't turn back. Then she starts walking again.
Tajer watches her go out of sight then sighs. With one look back at the Castle, she heads towards Nektulos and her empty mansion there.
The last images seem to jump another few years ahead, though not the centuries wide gap between the others. A vision of the divine realm she had watched them all from, a place of such perfection that it could be no place on Norrath. She showed them the moment she willed herself back into existence, appearing in the Faydark only a matter of feet away from where it had all started nine centuries before, returned to her true form and armed this time with the knowledge of who she was.
She removed her hand again, looking up at the rapidly approaching dawn as she did so. She glanced back at the Hall, to the sleeper within. He should awake soon.
She stood up carefully, a little stiff from sitting so long and looked between them all, her eyes landing on Gilliadson. She offered the music box back.
"Thank you."
She leaned forwards and touched the water again, focusing on the first time she had come close to Tajer…
From her rooftop perch beside the chimney, a woman who was Tier'Dal and yet not, watched them leave, her golden eyes never leaving the priestess. She stood perfectly still, only a few strands of her long pale hair moving in the almost non existent breeze. She knew that the priestess would not see her, despite her sense of uneasiness, but the Knight was another matter. She only hoped that the knight would be looking for the un-natural rather than the shroud of camouflage she hid herself in.
She breathed a sigh of relief as they rode out of sight and slumped down against the chimney, tears running down her cheeks. How she wanted to talk with Tajer, hold her, but could not. To reveal herself could endanger Tajer. While she watched over the young ones activities in Norrath, she could not enter the place the priestess had made her home. And while her own tormented soul had twisted her, turning her away from the light, she sensed the hatred in that dark castle, and knew instinctively that the Lord her granddaughter had sworn allegiance to would never let her past the gates.
She tucked up her knees to her chin and folded her arms over them. With a muffled sob she let her illusion drop. For so long she had taken the form of a Tier'Dal, and could do it at will. But now twilight skin faded to pale skin tinted with oaken hues. Buried in her arms, a face remarkably like Tajer's, only instead of the dark eyes of the priestess, hers were liquid gold. Pale hair darkened to fiery red, and hung long and untamed around her shoulders. Her camouflage dropped too, and she sat there on the roof, where any who passed could see her for what she was. She picked up a great spiked staff, glowing with the vibrancy of life, and jumped, uttering a spell on her descent. A shaggy black wolf landed nimbly and bolted into the surrounding hills without missing a stride. When she began to tire she stopped and howled.
A wolf howled. Shetan snorted and flicked his ears in the direction of the sound. Tajer frowned. There were no wolves this close to the citadel. But although it sounded like a wolf, there was such anguish laced through it that it made her wonder. When there was no second howl, she dismissed it, and carried on towards a warm room and a meal.
As darkness fell, Jetamio lay curled in her wolf form, asleep, but in fitful dreams of what could have been...
~*~
Tajer blinks and shields her eyes from the light as someone enters, and once her eyes adjust she sees Laisy. She tries to sit up, but at best only manages to rest on an elbow and look around, a little confused as to why she is in this cave. Her eyes fall on the twitching druid, and suddenly as though a penny dropped, she remembers.
She had travelled alone in the infinite black void, where there is nothing, not even time itself. Just nothing. Then a strong presence had come to her, fighting its way through to her, and she had sensed and wondered at the desperation of this presence to reach her. Then suddenly she had "felt" this presence grab her hand. For an instant she could see everything. Her mind was linked with this presence, see all its memories, its knowledge and its fears, and she knew too that it could feel her. She felt it brace itself then pull violently, and how it hurt more than anything she had ever known, but she knew it was hurting the other far more. Then she screamed as she was pulled back into her own realm.
"She came for me" she says weakly and struggles across to the druid. Jetamio still lay curled up and shaking, but her eyes followed Tajer. The priestess knelt beside her, and summoning what little power she could summon in her state, she healed the druids physical pain and she lay still at last. But to look into her eyes it was known she was lost. Tajer looked over her and felt pity, a feeling she was not familiar with.
"Her mind is broken." she say half to herself and half to Laisy. "So much power, locked away in a broken mind...." she stopped suddenly remembering something. She laid a hand on Jetamio, forcing the druid to look at her. "You must let the wild take you, become the wolf. Only that way can you began to recover...if at all."
The elf stared at Tajer for a few seconds then began to laugh, a mad hysterical laugh, which after a few moments infuriated the cleric. She shouted at her. The druid stopped laughing and glared at Tajer.
"Become the wolf. Now!"
Jetamio snarled and rose to her feet, but by the time she was standing she was in the form of a huge shaggy black wolf. She bolted from the cave, dodging nimbly around Laisy as she left.
Drained of her little energy the cleric slumped against the cave wall and looked up at Laisy.
"I want to go home"
~*~
The lift shuddered to a stop. The Tier'Dal Priestess stepped off onto the treetop platform, a shaggy black wolf just behind her, attached by a silken lead. She feels a little uncomfortable, it seems too much like the treetop elf city, but she is also nervous of the task she is about to undertake. From this platform are six pathways to other platforms, each ending in the dwelling of a Dragon, the Circle of Crystalwing. Her gaze fall on the red dragon, Atathus the Red Lord. Her stomach lurched, but when she looked back at the wolf chasing her own tail oblivious to the giggling Drakkin children watching, she knew she had to do it. She tugged on the silken rope, and led her towards the red dragon.
As she drew near, she noticed a change in the wolf. She became more alert, her hackles rising. Tajer frowned, realising that Jetamio must have been a killer of dragons. In wolf form, she was living mostly by instincts, and she viewed the dragons as her foes. This could create problems with her plan.
"Hush, Jeta" she said softly. The wolf calmed slightly, but Tajer could still feel the low rumbling growl.
Atathus turned his crimson eyes upon the strange pair. It lingered a moment more on the wolf. He chuckled softly at the wolf's growl and bared teeth, before addressing the Priestess. "Unbind the Stormcaller. In this form, she is too wild."
Tajer uttered a word, dispelling the wolf. In its place, a red haired wood elf stood, golden eyes wild, flitting around the room as she saw things through her own eyes for the first time in months. Her eyes narrowed upon the dragon, but she made no move to harm him. While Tajer knew that she was a very powerful druid, she was pretty sure the dragon could end her life without batting an eyelid. She was glad Jetamio had enough sense left to realise it too.
Atathus looked over the druid closely, as though evaluating her. He then turned his attention back to the Tier'Dal. "I hope you know of what you ask. It will strip her of her power, power she has spent centuries accumulating. She will be but a child compared to what she is now. She will lose it all."
"Look at her. She talks to things that are not there, sets fire to my property without even realising it. Yes she is powerful, but she has no control over it. She is a danger to herself and others this way. Its why I bound her in wolf form." she glanced back at Jetamio, who was muttering away to unseen things. "This way is her only chance of freedom from her cage. I cant hold her forever."
The dragon snorted. "Very well. There is one more thing. The one who controls the Scale of Veeshan is half elf, half dragon. After seeing what he has done, we will not touch the Elves with our blood. Luckily the Stormcaller has some human heritage, through her mothers line. We will work with that to disguise her."
The dragon became quiet and before long Tajer could feel a tension growing in the room. She saw the dragon clench his clawed fist, drawing blood, which he seemed very careful not to drip.
Suddenly Jetamio's head snapped towards the dragon. There was no trace of the madness in her eyes, she was completely aware of her surroundings. But she had no time to react, for she met the dragons gaze, and froze in shock, a cry on her lips that wouldn’t escape. Atathus the Red Lord raised his bleeding claw and slashed the druid across her chest. She screamed in agony now, but was cut short when he placed his own bloody claw upon her wound. She stood with a transfixed look upon her face as the magic in the dragons blood began to take effect. Her whole body began to glow, brighter and brighter, until so bright that Tajer had to shield her eyes.
Then it stopped. Tajer dropped her hands and looked. Jetamio was kneeling on the floor, breathing heavily. Atathus was standing a little back, a smug expression on his face.
"I normally let the process manifest itself over a few weeks, even months. But I sense you do not intend to leave her among her new kin, so I accelerated it, making her full Drakkin now. I also bent another rule of the Six. I used her power against her, using it to keep her memories intact, but stripping her of any ability to use magic." he smirked, "I hope she is adept with a blade."
Tajer approached Jetamio cautiously, unsure of her state of mind. The Drakkin seemed to sense her and looked up at her. The priestesses breath caught in her throat. Her eyes were clear of their madness, the guilt, and torment that had haunted them before. They were still golden, but she had no white of her eyes, and her pupils were slitted, like a cats. Her long red hair was stiffer, and in a strange style, hanging long at the sides and short at the back. Small sparkling red scales covered her body in intricate tattoos, and tiny red horns protruded her skin in a regular pattern across her otherwise human looking face.
Tajer reached out her hand, offering support. Jetamio rose shakily to her feet and met the dragons gaze again. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but no sound seemed to come out. She frowned, glancing at Tajer who in turn looked to Atathus.
"Her speech will come back. I have never created a child so fast, I am unsure of the time scale of her recovery." He turned to retreat to his private chambers, but then stopped. "She will keep her own name, to give her a Dragon name is pointless, because she remembers who she is. But remember she is not what she was, she is no longer a druid. Her thoughts are already changing as we speak, she no longer looks upon my kind as enemy for a start. She is adjusting, becoming familiar with her new form, and her lack of magic. But she is not powerless Tajer. Her power is her knowledge, her memories. One day it may save you. Good bye Tier'Dal, and be discreet when you leave. This ritual was not exactly by the books..." And with that he turned his back on them.
The air still tingled with the magic that had taken place. Jetamio was looking around her, adjusting to new vision again. She jumped slightly, startled when Tajer untied the silken collar that she still wore. Carefully, the Priestess also removed the torn and bloody clothes, but the skin was unscathed, as if she had never been touched. Jetamio watched her every move, as Tajer got out some simple clothes she had brought along in a bag and helped to dress her. She left the old clothes in a corner, they were too small now anyway with the Drakkin being much taller then the wood elf that once wore them.
"Why?"
Tajer looked up at the echoey but otherwise rich voice. By the look on her face, it had taken much effort to say this one word.
"Because I owe you it. You brought me back from the Void. Even if indirectly you sent me there in the first place, you came back for me. Now we are even."
The Drakkin nodded after a moment, then stood patiently. Tajer cast one last look towards the dragons chambers, but he was not to be seen.
"Let's go"
~*~
It had been Jetamio's idea to come here, but Tajer was not so sure now. The creatures here regarded them both with dark looks, although none made a move towards them. Jetamio moved among them indifferent to their looks, looking for familiar faces from when she had last been here years before. Tajer walked behind her, but wishing they could go home. These strange looking things that Jetamio told her were Shiliskin unnerved her.
Jetamio glanced back at her, catching the look on her face and grinned. They passed through the small hamlet, and Tajer went to mount Shetan again.
"We will have a swim in a minute, no point dragging him too." the Drakkin said. Tajer sighed, and ordered him to stand. The stallion snorted in disgust but didn’t move.
Jetamio entered the water and swam swiftly across to the opposite bank. Tajer was not so strong a swimmer, but made it across without difficulty. Jetamio was already picking shrooms from the cavern floor, talking away about the properties of each as though Tajer was listening. When she realised Tajer wasn’t listening she looked over to find Tajer gazing up the embankment into the strange treelike plants above.
"What’s up there?"
The rogue shrugged. "The werewolves live in a den deep in there. I wouldn't go up there if I were you."
It's so silent. Tajer whispered, and felt herself drawn to the eerie place. She started scrabbling up the embankment. Wait! Jetamio called, but Tajer was already half way up. Cursing, the rogue started up after her. When she came over the lip of the embankment, her blood ran cold.
Tajer was standing face to face with a huge werewolf and seemed frozen to the spot in fear.
RUN! she screamed.
But the werewolf had already struck, and Jetamio heard the sickening crack of Tajer's neck snapping. Before the stricken Priestess had even hit the ground, the rogue had launched herself through the air, dagger in hand, relying on instinct and rage alone. She landed on the stunned werewolf’s back and stabbed her dagger deep into its neck. It convulsed violently, dislodging her and she fell to the ground winded, but her aim had been true and it too slumped to the ground.
Catching her breath, she got back to her feet and went to Tajer. She knew it was no use though, and simply gazed at her, lying as though asleep but with her slender neck at a grotesque angle. Gold caught the rogues eye, and she reached down and pulled the necklace from Tajer. It was the one from the jewellery box back home, the dragon engraved into a strange black material, and encircled in gold. She wondered if Tajer had ever known its origins. The black was a scale taken from Vishimtar the Fallen and she had given it to her son, Tajer's father, many years ago. She clenched it tight in her fist, still feeling traces of the dragons power calling to her own dragon infused blood.
She shook her head, realising she was crying, and slipped the gold chain over her head. She wrenched her dagger from the werewolves throat, wiped the blade on the ground and resheathed it. She then picked up Tajer's lifeless body and headed back to Shetan.
She pushed him faster and faster, spurring him on til he was at a flat out gallop towards the Castle. At a subconscious level she knew she could kill the stallion, but now only rage and grief possessed her. Once again she had lost what she loved most, and her anger was at fate, which seemed determined to make her live a lonely life. As she came in sight of the castle gates, the guards went to bar her way. But they must have seen the look on her face, and recognised the body of the dark elf lying across her knees in the saddle, and they moved aside, letting her storm into the courtyard and skid to a halt. Shetan could barely stand, his sides heaving and lathered in white sweat. Jetamio threw back her head and yelled, oblivious to the torrential rain that sluiced over her now.
~*~
The Drakkin lead the way, riding atop the strangely calm Shetan. She looked straight ahead, her face a frozen mask, devoid of apparent emotion. Behind her, a horse drawn cart, upon which was a simple carved boat, filled with firewood and incense. Upon this obvious pyre, a Teir'Dal woman lay as though asleep, dressed in her grey silk dress and her arms folded across her belly. Behind this, a priest from Neriak. Jetamio had left a note on a notice board within the Castle, invited the House to come if they so wished.
The tiny procession wound its way down to the Ocean of Tears. The rogue had picked a secluded spot, away from prying eyes. She helped drag the pyre to the waters edge. As the Tier'Dal priest said a small sermon, the Drakkin poured some pitch over the wood in the boat, careful not to spill it over Tajer's dress. Then she stood as the priest continued, simply staring at Tajer. She would kill any werewolf in her path for this.
When he finished, Jetamio lit a torch and touched it to the wood in a few places, ensuring the fire was burning all over. She looked once more through the flames at Tajer's peaceful face, before giving the boat a good shove. The flames didn’t bother her, her scaled skin more resistant than others. The little boat slipped into the water and started to drift off.
Their work done, the priest and the man who had driven the cart headed out, leaving the Drakkin staring out to sea as the pyre drifted further and further out, the flames burning brightly in the twilight. She knew it was a rather unorthodox funeral for the Tier'Dal, but nothing could reach her there, no one to dig her up again, abuse her corpse. There was also the fact that she hadn't known where the Ebudae family tomb was, and as the Priestess' next of kin, and heir, it had been up to her to decide what to do.
The stallion came up behind her, blowing down the back of her neck, but she ignored him, only sighed and watched the sea, a single tear running down her cheek.
~*~
She held her arm out straight in front of her, a handful of hair clenched in her fist. Dangling from the hair was a head, the head of a centaur. With a sour look, she let go, dropping the head at the feet of the Red Dragon Atathus.
“Nestor's head, as requested.”
The Dragon looked down at the mutilated head, then on Jetamio.
"I am satisfied", Then with a hint of reluctance, "prepare yourself as I awaken some of the power within you." The Drakkin closed her eyes as the fires leapt through her blood, not in pain, but in relief. She had been late in delivering it and the fire often tore at her inside as though trying to claw it's way out. The Dragons touch alleviated the burning for a while as the fires found new places within her, opened by his magic. She opened her eyes again to find Atathus shaking his head at her. "Why do you leave it so long? Have you not realised it gets worse the longer you leave it?"
“Of course I have. I've just had better things to do than run around doing your tasks.”
Atathus snorted. "Why do you resist? You cannot change what you are."
“Exactly! I cannot change who I am either! You will always look upon me with disdain.” Her eyes still glowing slightly from the awakening as she thinks a moment. “Why did you do it anyway? What pact did you make with my granddaughter that would make you go against your instincts and touch me with your blood?”
The Dragons eyes burned bright, obviously irritated at being questioned by her. He shot a glance in the direction of the other dragons before glaring back down at her. "Keep your voice down rogue, this is not a private place. The pact I made with the Priestess is none of your concern! We both swore an oath of silence and I will not break it."
Jetamio glowered at him. He regained his composure, studying her. “Disdain you say? What would make you think I had reason to look upon you such?”
Jetamio looked away, looking out over the meadow that the treetop platform was in. New Drakkin milled around, a look of wonder on many a face. “I have reason.”
Atathus watched her, comprehension dawning on him. "Aaah, you have read the Lore of your new people. Curiosity did get the better of you after all."
The rogue refused to look at him but her face was a mixture of irritation and guilt. Eventually she nodded. “I did.”
She turned back to look at him, the irritation gone, only a weariness left. “I just followed orders, I didn’t know this would happen.”
“You were no friend of Veeshans brood anyway.
“Well they always wanted to pick a fight, did you think I would just stand there and let them?”
“They were defending their nests.”
“Well I didn’t know that, I’m not a psychic.”
The Dragon continued to glare at here as he spoke. “Had you known, would you still have killed the Storm Dragon, and the Guardian?”
“No…but I would not have been able to stop the others anyway. I was not of high rank at the time. Even if I had not gone, they would still have killed Yar’Lir and Vishimtar. Venrils curse would still have been triggered. The Nest would still have been destroyed”. She looked away again, out over the meadow as Atathus mulled it over. He sighed, a deep throaty sound that if it had been any louder would have been more a growl.
“I can not blame you alone for what happened.” She turned back to look at him. “But you are the first and only one of those involved to come here, albeit that you brought here by another. I have placed the entire blame on you for the actions of your House. This was perhaps, a little unfair.”
“A little?” A hint of sarcasm in her voice.
His gaze hardened again. “But you were still involved, and you will not be forgiven that.” He paused a moment. “But I will try not to look upon you with such disdain…”
The Drakkin shook her head, still confused. “So why did you touch me? I don’t understand, if you felt such a way about me, why would you do it? Why make your enemy, one of your blood? Whether I ever call you Father or not is irrelevant, your blood still burns through my veins! Why Dragon, why did you touch me?”
Atathus looked at her, obviously amused at her frustration. “I will not tell you rogue. As I have already said, I swore an oath of silence to the one who brought you to me, just as she swore to me.”
“Ach!” She turns away in disgust, then is quiet a moment. She turns back around. “She is dead. And they think I killed her.” She sighs and slides down the wall til she is sitting, and tucks her knees up under her chin, her face in her hands.
“Who does?”
She drops her hands. “The Dynasty. I took her to them, it was her home. They could not save her either. They took me in. But last night, one of them accused me of her murder.”
“You still live, you must have proved otherwise?”
She shakes her head. “The jury is simply out on the matter I feel. But it doesn’t look good, all the evidence goes against me at the moment.”
“And did you kill her?”
She glares up at him a mixture of anger and disbelief. “No, I did not! Why would you think that?! Why does anyone think it? “
“I didn’t say I thought you did, I only asked if you did. I am not a mind reader either."
Jetamio glowered. After a moment she said quietly. “There is only one who knew me before Tajer was killed. A few others had seen me around, but she knew me in my previous form. She was there when I first spoke to Tajer. But I do not know if she will help. She cared for Tajer, a lot. I think she knows I would not have harmed her, but for all I know she will blame me for the loss.”
“You could stay here you know. This is your home too, you are Drakkin whether you accept it or not. And I know you feel the call, or you would not come here at all.”
She stood up. “I can’t stay here. To run away would only give them more reason to accuse me. She looked him dead in the eye. I will not run from my troubles again. I will face them, even if it means I must die.”
Atathus nodded. “As you wish rogue. I was only offering.”
She looked at him a moment more then nodded, before she turned and left.
~*~
The Drakkin watched in silence a respectable distance from the Necromancer as he worked his magic. Dark mists whirled and eddied on the table before her, slowly rebuilding the body from the tiny chip of bone she had spent days searching for. There had once been a time she had frowned upon necromancy, but now she did not care. The hurt was too strong, the loneliness ran too deep. She had learned of their ability to raise the dead, even months later, and had employed one of the House Necromancers.
He had warned her that she would likely not come back whole, though he too had missed the Priestess and would do his best to return her as best he could. He had offered to use a soul of those he had killed before but she had refused, insisting on only using her own essence to power the spell.
The familiar body now took solid form and lay still as death upon the stone table. But a whispered incantation over the glowing green stone containing Jetamio’s essence breathed life into the body as the stone waned rapidly. She felt a tug at something deep inside her as he did so, but nothing like the relief and joy that leapt up inside her as Tajer suddenly took a deep shuddering breath.
~*~
Two Tier’Dal sat close together at the bar in the Hall, speaking in hushed tones. The one in pink tinted armour was an emotional wreck, remembering things she thought she had forgotten but also coming to terms with her newly acquired mortality. With the younger priestess seeming to be the only one who had any idea what was going on, Tensirea had cornered Tajer and demanded answers. Tajer had tried to evade the answers at first but now leaned in closer to the other so no one else would over hear her.
“Her blood gave you life, because she is Life.” She pauses a moment before continuing. “No one knows who Jetamio's real father is...her mother was not a whore, but the calculations didn’t work out...Atathus believes she is born of Tunare's essence”
Tensirea’s eyes widened in surprise and also a touch of fear for her Drakkin friend. To be such a being in a Dark House…Haavok would surely kill her if he found out. Tajer simply nodded grimly.
~*~
She closed the door behind her and leant against it for support. A few sobs wracked her body as she tried to come to terms with it all. Ankari showing up out of nowhere, Tensirea's idea to taste a drop of their blood to see if Ankari really was who she claimed. That alone had been shock enough. But to find the vampire the next day, admiring her reflection in the mirror as the sun streamed in the window, her heart beating once more, un-nerved the rogue more than she let on. All from one tiny drop of her blood, Tajer reinforcing this with almost grim certainty, but refusing to elaborate as to why.
Then they called her the Drakkin of Destiny, bringing laughter and mockery from the Priestess whom Jetamio did not care much for of late. And she knew the feeling was mutual. It all added to her frustration.
But through it all, she had dreamed vivid dreams, since the night she slept in Plane of Growth four nights before. She did not know what had led her there that night. But Tunare had come to her in her dreams, saying nothing, but Jetamio understood.
She stepped away from the door, heading down the hall in silence. She paused outside one room. She stood perfectly still for a moment pondering. Then she slipped into shadows, gingerly picking the lock and opening the door quietly. Upon a huge pile of various treasures he slept. In any other circumstance this would have bemused her, but for now she paid no heed. Silently she made her way across to him, stopping beside him, looking down on his sleeping face. Her fingers itched to trace the flaming markings across his face and head, but instead she did something else. She slowly leant over and kissed his forehead ever so softly so as not to wake him. Slowly she backed off, drinking in the sight of him, then left the room, carefully locking the door again. Then she left.
She was just beyond sight of the gates when she heard someone call her name. Turning she saw Tajer running towards her and frowned. The Priestess stopped near her, her face slightly flushed from the run.
“Where are you going?” she asked in a slightly strained voice, her heart already knowing the answer.
Jetamio looked at her for a moment, then turned and carried on. Tajer caught her up and grabbed her shoulder, forcing the rogue to face her. She looked into the eyes of a woman she suddenly realized she didn’t truly know. Yes, they were kin, but it seemed little more than that now.
“You're going back aren't you?”
Jetamio nodded slightly. “Go home Tajer. Your path is not with me.”
Tajer looked back at the castle she had called home since she was a mere 12 seasons, then back to Jetamio. “If you go, I must too. I cannot stay.” Her eyes plead with the Drakkin, but she knows it's lost. Jetamio shakes her head slightly and continues to walk, Tajer letting go of her arm and watching in despair. She hung back watching her.
“If you want to know....and I mean really want to know why...why things are as they are....ask Tensirea. I told her.”
Jetamio pauses a moment, taking the words in but she doesn't turn back. Then she starts walking again.
Tajer watches her go out of sight then sighs. With one look back at the Castle, she heads towards Nektulos and her empty mansion there.
The last images seem to jump another few years ahead, though not the centuries wide gap between the others. A vision of the divine realm she had watched them all from, a place of such perfection that it could be no place on Norrath. She showed them the moment she willed herself back into existence, appearing in the Faydark only a matter of feet away from where it had all started nine centuries before, returned to her true form and armed this time with the knowledge of who she was.
She removed her hand again, looking up at the rapidly approaching dawn as she did so. She glanced back at the Hall, to the sleeper within. He should awake soon.
She stood up carefully, a little stiff from sitting so long and looked between them all, her eyes landing on Gilliadson. She offered the music box back.
"Thank you."
-
Gilliadson
- Posts: 517
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2007 11:52 pm
- Location: A cottage in Kelethin
- Contact:
Gilliadson accepted the music box back from the Druidess.
"Any time you need some comfort, I will be more than happy to activate it and lend it to you. The music of my mother was never really meant for one alone but to be shared with all who need. I have some thinking to do... You have given much information and I need some time alone to take it all in." Gilliadson turned to his Beloved and kissed her gently. "I shall return in a few hours, my love." The paladin retrieved his steed from the stable and rode out to Qeynos Hills...
"Any time you need some comfort, I will be more than happy to activate it and lend it to you. The music of my mother was never really meant for one alone but to be shared with all who need. I have some thinking to do... You have given much information and I need some time alone to take it all in." Gilliadson turned to his Beloved and kissed her gently. "I shall return in a few hours, my love." The paladin retrieved his steed from the stable and rode out to Qeynos Hills...
Alsurin stood in silence, wind stirring hair of a pale yellow unachievable by nature. A hand absently traced the intricate golden tattoos running down his neck, Jetamio's sorcerous delving had reminded him of those wonder stricken days after his own draconic baptism, memories of abandoned humanity unraveling like ephemeral dreams.
Fear still filled him, a biting chill within the marrow. Yet, it was tempered by an excitement that embraced his spirit, almost threatening to strangle it. It would work! Yes, there was no doubt. These visions had spoken, and within them the magus beheld his victory.
...It shall be our victory...
"Oh yes but of course," the drakkin replied, seemingly to the empty air. "A joint triumph, naturally.."
He yawned, giving the scene a satisfied smile. "Well, I'll go see to Tortha." Without further hesitation, the conjurer strode back towards the hall, the mystic eye trailing behind its master like an otherwoldly hound.
Fear still filled him, a biting chill within the marrow. Yet, it was tempered by an excitement that embraced his spirit, almost threatening to strangle it. It would work! Yes, there was no doubt. These visions had spoken, and within them the magus beheld his victory.
...It shall be our victory...
"Oh yes but of course," the drakkin replied, seemingly to the empty air. "A joint triumph, naturally.."
He yawned, giving the scene a satisfied smile. "Well, I'll go see to Tortha." Without further hesitation, the conjurer strode back towards the hall, the mystic eye trailing behind its master like an otherwoldly hound.
Alsurin Sunveil, summoner of Keikolin
Let me forsake all to reach towards the heavens, straining desperatly to hear but a chord of those songs sung among the stars.
Let me forsake all to reach towards the heavens, straining desperatly to hear but a chord of those songs sung among the stars.