Many moons had gone by since Jade had arrived in town. She spent most of her early days with The Guiding Light guild, learning about magic from Garrett Greencorn and teaching herself the ways of the spells. Then she had met Merrick, the King of Mythnd…
Hear Ye, Hear Ye,the Arcane Academy has been reopened again, there are still spots open for the teachers, but we are looking for students most of all. The academy welcomes all, no distinction between race, gender or magical inclination, as long as you…
Phaere got out of bed, pondering the same thoughts as the whole night, sleeping maybye for half an hour at most. The book in infernal language haunted her dreams. She still remebered grabbing it from that daemonic knight in the battle at narrowhaven b…
Lillianna always spent a good amount of time brushing out her long red hair and making her signature braid tight and even so it would hang down her back. Her lips were a ruby red accented by her innocent shining blue eyes. Every morning she looked i…
It was still several hours before sunset. Vladimir looked quietly around his poshly furnished inn room; restlessly pushing his long, jet-black, hair from his face. His glinting, golden, eyes danced around the room, finally fixating on the thick, fur, curtains at the foot of his bed. He snorted slightly as he raised forward, pushing the satin sheets out of his way. He slumped his trim frame to the side, extending his long, toned, arm down. He prodded his slinder hand into his leather pack. He fumbled around for a moment, finally pulling out a vial of Daemon blood. He quickly popped the cork and tilted his head back, downing the liquid in one dreadful gulp. He was considered by many a handsome man, but the face he made at the taste of the foul blood was akin to that of an orc.
As bad as the blood was, it was his only option at the moment, as average human blood lacked the strength to sustain him for very long, anymore. As he was an Elder of clan Tremere, and I use that term lightly, as the Tremere are the youngest of all Vampire clans, he faced certain…complications… He looked to the empty vial, and thought back to a time long forgotten by men. A time when clan Tremere were all but human, seeking immortality. Their Alchemy and Magery, known worldwide, could not produce lasting results. Certain members of the clan, and close friends to Vladimir, including lord Tremere himself, began experimenting with Necromancy. This soon escalated to the capture of Vampires. He glaired blankly at the vial as he remembered how he, and the others, would drain all the captured undead’s blood. How they would augment it with Alchemy and magical arts. All but seven of the clan abandoned these wicked persuits, proclaiming them the work of twisted, evil, men. But several years later, their prodding with things better left to the gods was met with success. There was just enough of the one of a kind potion for the seven of them to split.
“We were damn fools…” he whispered to himself. And he was right, as the potion did contain the blood of Caine, all-be-it weak and deluded, it lacked the potentcy of the true curse. After drinking the concoction, and going through the pain-staking process of death and rebirth, Vlad and the others found themselves immortal. But the cost was great, as it had robbed from them all of their Magery abilities. They were left alone in the world, hated by humans, mages, and the Vampires they had hunted to become immortal. It was a long, hard road for Vlad to get where he is now (but those are stories for another day). He and the others becoming great Necromancers and Blood Mages along the way. He thought fond thoughts of his new family, the Camarilla, as he sprung to his feet.
He walked to the table, almost gliding across the floor, without making a sound. Vlad stretched his tall, toned body. Then he straitened his favorite, crimson colored, elvish robe and waited for twilight. He stroked his gottee and mustache, making plans to train for the great war that was soon to come…..
The ground squished and splatted as he positioned himself on the bench, fidgeting as he did, anxious to engage his mind on anything but the lingering scold of his sisters gaze. He shifted his feet over the soggy dirt, made eternally sodden due to its …
My deep blue eyes scanned over the people at the market as I strolled past. Not too fast, so that I would draw attention to myself, yet not so slow that it might look to a shop owner that I was interested in purchasing something either. I watched as strangers kissed hello on the cheek, as toddlers were reined into submission by a parent, and as shop owners boasted of the virtues of the products they had for sale to anyone who would listen. With my hood up, it was easy to hide the smirk on my face as I slipped past them. It was all just a little too familiar and one of the many reasons why I knew getting out of this town would be the best choice I ever made.
Finally at the doc I turned looking once again at the town I was leaving. I lingered to see if I would feel anything besides contempt for these people. I didn’t. So when it came to my turn to board the ship I offered my hand and the coin within it gladly. It had taken me well over a year to save up for this journey, and I don’t regret a single moment of the hard work. I was finally free of this place and off to my new adventure. That was until I heard someone yelling out my name.
“Arin!! Arin!! I’m sorry! You don’t have to do this!”
I scowled. He was making a scene. Everyone was looking to see where I was. For a moment my cheeks flushed with anger. I forced it down. I was giving him too much credit, to think that he could make me angry. No that ship, much like the one I was currently on, had sailed. So instead I lowered my hood with a warm smile. I waved as the ship pulled away from the doc my red hair falling in lava like locks, the curls dancing in the wind, framing my face.
I saw him drop to his knees and burry his head in his hands. It would have almost been dramatic if not for the 50 or so other people all around him. In fact once he dropped to his knee, he all but disappeared into the crowd. Once I could no longer see him I stopped waving and found a quiet place on the deck of the ship to sit and collect myself.
I did not have much coin left, and so I knew I would have to be frugal with it. However I was accustomed to that. So, I thought to myself why not splurge a little and get myself a nice tall glass of ale. The more I considered this, the happier I felt about it so I stood – not much of a grand statement in my small 5 foot 4 frame – but somehow I felt taller than my small frame conveyed. I half expected the floor boards of the ship to creek as I walked from my spot at the front of the ship’s bow to a few decks below. Being a bar maid, I knew where to find the flow of the ale. Assuredly, it was in the underbelly of the ship.
My assumption was confirmed when only a floor below decks I could hear the pouring of the corked ale keg into the glasses of thirsty consumers. I approached the bar and slapped down my coin with confidence.
“As big of a glass as you got” I told the lady behind the makeshift counter. Actually all it was were a few emptied crates that had been turned upside down and then propped up by a few additional crates turned on their sides. I shook my head a little watching the large men play chicken with the hazardous looking counter top as they leaned against it, as though it were a solid oak bar.
Tearing my gaze from the disaster waiting to happen to the counter top, my eyes found the bar maid again. Apparently, my statement amused her; I could see her looking at my thin yet athletic frame with skepticism as she sized me up.
“Are you sure there doll? This stuff aint piss water, ya know.”
I smiled. Two good things have come from being a bar maid. One was, I’ve learned how to hold my ale (and liquor for that matter) and the second is I have seen the disasters of what happens when you don’t say “when” soon enough.
“I’m good.” I reassured her.
She shook her head a little and smiled at me handing me a rather large glass – admittedly larger than I thought I would receive for my small amount of coin – and then returned to her other patrons. I took a few drinks – she was right, this stuff really had a kick to it – and headed back to my spot on the deck of the ship.
I leaned back in the chair resting my large glass of ale on my thigh as I scanned the calm waters taking me from my past to my future. Someday, I surmised, I might miss my brother but right now I was just glad to be rid of him and his horrid opinions of me.
I come by being a bar maid honestly; it was a family business. I was the bar maid, by brother was the one who made the wines, liquor’s and ales and my father was the one who ran the bar. That was until last year when our pub “The Irishman’s Daughter” (named after me) was involved in a horrible incident.
This was one of those times where I could see the righting on the wall, but was powerless to do anything but watch it unfold. Had I known then the exact nature of the disastrous outcome I was dreading – awe hell, even if I had — I don’t think there would have been anything I could do to stop it. Anyway, I was serving a table full of hunters, who were celebrating a decent kill and who were all looking very much like a pack of Vikings. Already Leary of the group, I brought the two large picture of ale that was requested with a wary eye on them. I have encountered men like this countless times before. I know the type. Obnoxious, ballsy, abrasive, and rude all rolled up into one. I had set the two large pictures down without event, grateful as I turned on my heel – or started to – when a large burly hand closed over mine.
“Hey little lady, not so fast, I think there is something else I need to order” He laughed, looking to his pack of nincompoops for support. They all cheered and one or two slammed down empty mugs of ale in encouragement. That move, more than anything caught the attention of my father. To this day, I wish he had not have turned his eye to me. Things would be so different.
Wrenching my hand from him I said;
“Oh I’m sorry I think you have our menu confused with the one the whore house down street has to offer.” I looked at him pointedly as I finished my sentiments saying “NO ONE here offers those services.”
When he did not release his grip my free hand flew into the top of my thigh boot pulling out my blade. On my last birthday my father had a sheath sewn into my favorite pair of boots. I wore them with pride knowing that it was an extravagance he rarely afforded.
Before I could blink however, his affore mentioned nincompoop-ed friend was at my back, he grabbed my wrist and bent it back – (slender as it was it was not hard for him to do), and then bent me over the side of the table, holding my cheek against wood grain.
My father who was now at the table himself; took a swing at the man who was the instigator, that was when his friend –(who was holding the knife he had taken from my hand) – stabbed him in the chest. I watched in horror as the light slowly left my father’s eyes.
I ignored everyone else in the bar at that moment and sank to my knees holding my father’s head delicately in my lap. My brother rushed to my side; yelling at me about how idiotic I was to have pulled my weapon, but I did not hear him. All my focus was on my father. I did not even notice as the Vikings stormed out for fear of the local law enforcement that was already alerted and headed our way.
I hardly recall his funeral. It was a blur of “I’m so sorry for your loss”, and “If you need anything let me know” mixed in was a few whispers of “Well I guess Arthur will be taking over the bar.” I had stepped aside when I could not take it anymore stopping near a set of tall bushes when I heard it. The worst sentence ever uttered from anyone’s mouth ever, aimed at me.
“You think Arthur will change the name of the bar now? Seams wrong to keep it named after the person who got him killed, don’t you think?”
I opened my mouth several times to yell, to cry, to scream….but nothing came out. All the words that would not come from my mouth seemed to spill down my face as my eyes blurred with a thousand unshed tears since the incident only days before.
I thought I left for the bar right away but I must have been frozen where I stood for longer than I thought because by the time I reached “The Irishman’s Daughter” it was dark, my brother Arthur was there. I rushed over to him attempting to put my arms around him and tell him of the horrible things that were said, when he cut me off not allowing me to touch him. He glared into my face his own an unrecognizable contortment of grief, anger and even a bit of rage as he said to me;
“Why the hell did you pull that damned knife? What were you thinking Arin?!”
I froze. New tears formed and fell in a hurry from my already swollen eyes. So…not only did the town consider me responsible for my father’s death, but my brother did as well.
Sleep did not come that night or not for many nights later. I felt awkward and out of place as I schlepped drinks night after night in “The Irishman’s Daughter’s Pub” Eyes followed me everywhere I went for weeks. Finally I could not stand it anymore. I started counting the small amount of saved tips over the last year and a half and headed for the doc’s.
To my brother I had become almost just as much of a ghost as our father had. He never spoke to me except when necessary, he never said thank you for the meals I served him before opening and after closing. The spare few times he did look at me, his eyes were dead, as though he was seeing right though me.
It did surprise me to see him at the doc’s as the ship left. But he had his chance. I needed a change. I could no longer remain the girl who got her father killed in the very pub he named after her. My heart could not bear the weight of that responsibility.
I lifted the ale to my lips taking a long drink sighing gratefully as it dulled my senses a little. Yes, boarding this ship was the right choice. I no longer had to live in the nightmare that had become my life. Before I could stop myself I whispered into the glass “I love you father” and took another large drink looking to the horizon. My deep blue eyes matched that of the water before me.
( This is a joint piece between Edward and myself as a way of introduction for our characters into the world. Hope you enjoy!)
The Mist
The Caravan had left the manor early that morning well before the sun had risen. Its Guards were all supposed to be of a quality that money could not approach the proper amount. The horses snuffled in the cool morning air, as a light mist seemed to cover everything in its perpetual grey sheen.
The charge had been swaddled and rushed into the coach. The doors affixed soundly, the coach men rising to their seats upon its top. Each movement caused the coach to sway and groan lightly on its wood and leather struts.
With the snap of leather reins the horses snapped their heads up and pushed into their harness, the coach gliding smoothly over the iron shod wheels across the bumpy cobblestone. It swayed with each bump but was truly a very smooth ride due to being one of the finer coaches that money could purchase. The charge did not truly notice the movement till the gentle sway caused her to slowly drift in and from sleep.
The Vanguards had ridden early pushing through the mist and fog to check the road as clear. The Charge must be protected. That was the orders, simple and exact. They’d never failed a task before. Nor would they now. The Captain had planned the route exact. Times of travel, stopping points.. down to the last minute detail. There had been some grumbling amongst the men that the Captain fancied the Charge.. but most knew that was not true, they’d seen him fornicating in the stables with one of the maids.
The coach itself had a four man compliment which included the driver. a crossbowman on the coach as well as two rear guards men. The vanguard having four, so in all 12 men. each skilled and capable in their own right. The best money could buy.
The road was a simple one once you cleared the cobblestone, dirt and a few pot holes. they traveled swiftly, time was important in this matter.. rarely was she moved.. and even then decoy upon decoy was used in her transport only a select few having knowledge of her exact location, the path they used, and never the same guards.. well expect this time.. This was their second trip.
The clear fields soon twisted into winding lowlands, part of the reason this path had been chosen was no heavy woods.. no place for them to .. hide.. ambush.
The Vanguard had ridden for about two hours then halted waiting for the coach to catch them. As the coach cornered slowly they could see the Vanguard sitting upon their horses idly looking into the low hills around them.
“There they are.. as scheduled” The Driver spoke to his crossbowman. “Call out to them see if they can hear us. “
“OYE! YOU LOT!” The crossbowman stood and called waving the heavy implement of war he was so fond to carry. Most all of the men had their focus on the Vanguard.. because honestly.. they’d done this before.. and no one was crazy enough to..
The sudden sound of heavy wood.. compressing.. like a spring taunt in the chill morning air filled all of their ears. The slap of something heavy then sound of wet.. and horses screaming.
The Men on horseback literally could not believe their eyes as a scorpion bolt slammed into the two lead horses of the coach lifted them off their feet and twisted the whole harness and tongue of the coach to the side.
The Coach lifted with the shift of weight and crashed on its side, a scream erupting from within and without as men dove from it.
Then.. nothing. The air was still silent.. but for the cry and thrashing of wounded horses.. the men able to stand did so panic on their face. The four upon horseback turned slowly forming around the overturned coach. Blades scrapped from their scabbards the crossbowman wound the heavy torsion bar setting a bolt home.
“what.. steady.. then lads.. steady.. where is that damn vanguard!”
The driver drug his sword free from his own scabbard as he favored his right arm. Their first priority was protection of the coach.. and its passenger.. then check if she still yet lived.. though the soft sound of whimpering from within was a good sign to that.
That’s when the Vanguards horses came running past.. all flanks covered in blood their nostrils flaring eyes panicked foaming as if rode hard.
“not.. good.. this ain’t right.. “
“shut up you idiot.. watch your section..”
“Something’s.. out there.. something’s moving!”
A scream erupts from the fog as one of the horsemen is pulled from the saddle, the sound of steel against flesh and a wet slap as a body slams into the ground.
“this.. how.. they didn’t know.. they couldn’t!”
“SHUT UP!”
TWANG! The crossbow explodes with the heavy sound of its string snapping its torsion bar. a Low guttural howl of pain erupts from the fog. The crossbowman doesn’t even blink but turns to working his weapon.
A low whistling sound fills the air then a hand axe buries itself deep into the mans chest.. he blinks and looks up.. eyes wide then down..
“Well.. damn..”
He collapsed over his crossbow his blood flowing over the weapon he loved.
The others start to feel the fear.. the panic is ripe in the air. The wounded horses still screaming into the morning as they thrash in their harnesses.. and thats.. when they come out of the fog. Their armor grey, lacquered to match that which they hide in.. hoods pulled over their features. They carry a variety of weapons.. spear, bastard sword.. long sword.. a pitchfork.. a pitchfork?
The Guards form and prepare to respond when the men in front of them scatter slipping back into the fog.
“Devils..”
“Ghosts..”
“shut it and fight them!”
A hand reaches out and snatches another rider from his saddle. The mans face contorted in fear as he screams the flash of white in the fog suddenly met with crimson as it splashes the horses hoofs.. it prances and screams in panic, primal fear in the morning fog.. and bolts.
The three remaining form slowly back to back. Shapes flit in and out of the fog weapons striking weapon..
“Hold.. just hold.. they aren’t far behind us!”
The sound of a heavy thump on the side of the coach, wood splintering and ripping the door comes whipping out of the morning air and slams into the three..
A dark layered voice calls.
“Get her..”
A voice responds smooth dark.. clipped in such a manner to denote proper breeding and education.
“Yes My Lord.”
The Grey shadow stands over the door he’d just ripped off and slowly leans into the coach extending a hand.
Silence
There wasn’t much of anything, anymore.
I was sitting there, alone, in a mansion much too large for the only monster living inside. It was beautiful enough though, with all those blood red colored flowers running all over the stone cold walls. An environment representative of myself, ironically. The rooms were so empty that one could hear its own voice echo at even the slightest of whispers. Unfortunately, there wasn’t even anyone to whisper, or breathe at all.
Watching my own reflection in the mirror of the luxurious vanity, I decided to break this heavy silence, otherwise my mind would never be able to take all of this nonsense.
“I remember, back in Vahnatia, when I used to tell my lost brother about the fate that was awaiting me. As a tiefling, there aren’t many paths to choose from, once you have lived for too long; Two, only two. But I know that you also know that, don’t you?
Quinn, you’ll take the path of the beast, and I’ll take the leap to madness”
The sound of my laughter bounced against the walls while I was brushing the same strand of my hair, for the 10 000th time. All those memories were a burden to carry, overtime… and time seemed to stretch forever in front of me, and I barely had even lived the tenth of my existence. Where was the Family? Where was Michael…? Were was “Mister-Lord-Quinn”, even?
Vanished.
—————————————-
I had always wondered why so many peasants were gathering around the bank of Narrowhaven. I managed to squeeze my way into the building, while noticing a group of very loud ones, insulting Merrick. Saperlipopette, was I happy not to be part of such chaos. Perhaps, solitude was better, after all.
; “Scarlet?”
Oh my… of course peace couldn’t follow me for very long, hm? I barely looked over my shoulder, the voice not ringing any particular bell to me. I was positive that I didn’t knew this woman addressing to me rudely. I didn’t attach much importance on what she said afterwards while she was pretending I could be some sort of messenger between her and someone of my past. Rudeness attracting rudeness, I finally left the bank, annoyed by the low vocabulary she employed. I had to wonder why people were telling me about my brother, when I had never even met them before. They should try harder to trap me.
When I thought that day was to be a complete and boring failure, anew, an old face appeared in between the unknown ones. Despite that I didn’t knew that man very well, even not at all, I felt some kind of comfort. It was proof that I didn’t invent all of these tragedies, and that this universe wasn’t all made up in my mind while my body could have been tied down in a basement with the deranged population, somewhere.
Reality seeming to be caught in think fog all the time, I followed him to a place I thought I had heard of in the past. Oh, I’ll admit it right away; I did indeed try to spy a particular group of people around this castle, but never actually was able to. Lucky day? As we arrived, jumping out from a portal, my instincts of suspicion kicked in and I scanned the area, as if I was memorising it to commit a future crime.
Flowers
Pond
Gates
Lots of shadowy corners
Magical tiles…?
Where was everyone…?
Lost in my thoughts of planification, I was rather quiet while I followed the drow upstairs. Yes, a drow. Crazy, dangerous? I didn’t even had a clue. I certainly remembered him to be among my enemies, back then. What did I have to lose, though? Nothing, the sad truth. I had nothing to lose. We say, often, that those can be the most dangerous ones, the craziest ones. I don’t know if he was aware that he had invited a Monster like me in his castle? Should my end was to come, I would accept it and leave this world forever.
“You always said that I never was able to defend myself properly…” I whispered to myself, hearing a heavy door close behind me.
Oh, at least I was talented at keeping a smiling face, while my mind was racing in the background:
” I bet he will opt for poison, what do you think?”
” Poison seems too obvious, it’s a drow, it’s too typical”
” You’re frail, I say he will just stab your back and leave you to drown in your own puddle of blood”
” He might chop you in bits too, and feed it to his next visitors.”
I survived.
I wasn’t killed, nothing had been poisonous, but -one- idea started to intoxicate my mind. One little idea that made all the difference. Oh yes, wasn’t I an opportunistic woman? It was dangerous, it could also be some kind of trap, a vengeance?
As I said before, I had nothing to lose. Should it lead to the perfect crime, it will. Should it lead to my death, I’ll die.
I am normally a fairly strict adherent to the rule that one should keep their goals to themselves. Psychological studies have found a correlation between announcing ones goals and failing to achieve them, in that by frequently speaking about your ambi…