Birth
It was a compulsion to breathe - it wasn't a choice, it was a command from the magic that flooded her bones, her fetid flesh, and ordered her to breathe. It wasn't into her lungs, the long decayed sacs, that the air was pulled into. It wasn't simply air that she pulled in - it was magic from the fabric of the weave itself. The command repeated again and again, cycling the weave, the magic, through her and the thunder of her soul thudded back into her bones, into her skull, and the pain - oh the aching pain like being split asunder, pulled apart - the pain of her past life rushed in to fill the void of her skull like the swirl of the tides. Memories were not held in a brain, memories were now in her bones, magic breath keeping them alive and burning burning burning like a fire pulsing. Every movement burned a memory, every breath burned a memory - brighter, brighter, brighter - until the brutality of her return to the living world forced Arlenia to scream. They were everywhere. The memories were everywhere.
Like... Cool
Leandra put a change of clothes into her bag and grabbed her short swords. She strode out of the house, knowing no one would stop her with as late as it was. No one would be up. No one would care. She slept near the house that night, and the next day, walked deeper into the Haon'Dor. Every swing of her sword cut down the plants in front of her and let her feel just a little bit better about leaving.
She hadn't been keeping track of how far into the woods she was, nor how long she'd been swinging her blade with little grunts of anger. But soon enough, a boy holding an orb of fire caught her attention. "Who are you?" he asked with a scowl.
The idiot. Leandra raised her hand, pointing at him. There was no way this snot was going to do something to her. "You'd better not," she said, and inwardly kicked herself. What a stupid little kid thing to say.
"Oh, you're just a little girl," the boy said, lowering his fire.
"Shut up. You don't look so big yourself," she snapped back.
Though they had never met, Askari (as she learned was his name) knew Orn because Mirin and Orn were a couple. A fact that they both found disgusting. They both found parents to be morons. They both felt they wanted to be left alone. They both seemed to think a lot alike.
Leandra looked at this boy with purplish-reddish-purplish-red skin and black hair and reddish-blackish eyes, his lean face that seemed very manly and very boyish all at once, his smell that seemed like forests and campfires, and found all of a sudden that she really liked him. Like... a lot.
Leandra went so far as to show him she could talk to some of the trees, and watched him look amazed and irritable all at the same time. Then, he offered to help her get really far away from her parents. And Leandra found herself liking him even more as he took her hand and walked with her through a black swirling vortex.
She hadn't been keeping track of how far into the woods she was, nor how long she'd been swinging her blade with little grunts of anger. But soon enough, a boy holding an orb of fire caught her attention. "Who are you?" he asked with a scowl.
The idiot. Leandra raised her hand, pointing at him. There was no way this snot was going to do something to her. "You'd better not," she said, and inwardly kicked herself. What a stupid little kid thing to say.
"Oh, you're just a little girl," the boy said, lowering his fire.
"Shut up. You don't look so big yourself," she snapped back.
Though they had never met, Askari (as she learned was his name) knew Orn because Mirin and Orn were a couple. A fact that they both found disgusting. They both found parents to be morons. They both felt they wanted to be left alone. They both seemed to think a lot alike.
Leandra looked at this boy with purplish-reddish-purplish-red skin and black hair and reddish-blackish eyes, his lean face that seemed very manly and very boyish all at once, his smell that seemed like forests and campfires, and found all of a sudden that she really liked him. Like... a lot.
Leandra went so far as to show him she could talk to some of the trees, and watched him look amazed and irritable all at the same time. Then, he offered to help her get really far away from her parents. And Leandra found herself liking him even more as he took her hand and walked with her through a black swirling vortex.
Alone
Askari sat on a fallen log deep within the forest. Alone. That's all he wanted to be. Alone.
He had a pile of sticks he had collected resting on the log beside him. He took the straightest one and pulled out his dagger, beginning to fashion an arrow. He had plenty of arrows but that wasn't really the point. With every flick of his dagger just a tiny bit of the seemingly endless well of anger and frustration within him was expended. Who knew how many arrows he would have to make, but just maybe with enough cuts of his dagger that well would run dry... maybe.
He didn't know why he was always so frustrated. Perhaps it was the circumstances of his conception, or his birth, or the fact that he was a product of a forced bond between his parents. His real parents, not Gilean who wanted to be not only his dad but also his buddy, his pal. Gods, he wished Gilean would just leave him alone. His real dad was an esper, hike himself. His dad was red too, like him. Askari didn't know why every time he saw Gilean the frustration and anger seemed to swell a bit higher within him. He didn't know that he was a product of a bond that ran deeper and more complex than he could ever understand and he carried part of that bond within him, along with all of the turbulence that came with it.
All he knew was that Gilean and his mom were stupid. They didn't understand anything. They didn't understand that his mom and real dad should be the ones together. They didn't understand that he just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to be alone and make his arrows. After all, that's the reason why we came way out here into these woods where nobody would find him.
Suddenly there was a rustling in the brush, and it was getting closer. It startled Askari at first and he frowned. It was probably some stupid animal that he would have to scare off. But then he heard the distinct swish of a blade and small grunts of effort with each swing. It was no animal. Damnit, he thought, why is it so hard to be left alone. With a disgruntled huff his frown turned into a scowl. He put down his stick and dagger and silently conjured a ball of fire into his hand. He would scare off whoever it was so he could finally be in peace. Alone.
He had a pile of sticks he had collected resting on the log beside him. He took the straightest one and pulled out his dagger, beginning to fashion an arrow. He had plenty of arrows but that wasn't really the point. With every flick of his dagger just a tiny bit of the seemingly endless well of anger and frustration within him was expended. Who knew how many arrows he would have to make, but just maybe with enough cuts of his dagger that well would run dry... maybe.
He didn't know why he was always so frustrated. Perhaps it was the circumstances of his conception, or his birth, or the fact that he was a product of a forced bond between his parents. His real parents, not Gilean who wanted to be not only his dad but also his buddy, his pal. Gods, he wished Gilean would just leave him alone. His real dad was an esper, hike himself. His dad was red too, like him. Askari didn't know why every time he saw Gilean the frustration and anger seemed to swell a bit higher within him. He didn't know that he was a product of a bond that ran deeper and more complex than he could ever understand and he carried part of that bond within him, along with all of the turbulence that came with it.
All he knew was that Gilean and his mom were stupid. They didn't understand anything. They didn't understand that his mom and real dad should be the ones together. They didn't understand that he just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to be alone and make his arrows. After all, that's the reason why we came way out here into these woods where nobody would find him.
Suddenly there was a rustling in the brush, and it was getting closer. It startled Askari at first and he frowned. It was probably some stupid animal that he would have to scare off. But then he heard the distinct swish of a blade and small grunts of effort with each swing. It was no animal. Damnit, he thought, why is it so hard to be left alone. With a disgruntled huff his frown turned into a scowl. He put down his stick and dagger and silently conjured a ball of fire into his hand. He would scare off whoever it was so he could finally be in peace. Alone.
Reports Made
Head bent in thought, Lynk hurried from the corridor of her clan's keep. What a mess. What a mess, and what a shame. She'd seen and done some things in her time, but wow.. what a mess and what a shame. Those poor people... Tortured like that. For seemingly nothing! Rounding the corner to the lounge she took a moment to stuffed her precious chatkcha in her boot and covered it thoughtfully. The new recruits always got nervous when she played with it. Some of them knew what that little weapon was capable of. A small shrug at the thought of that and her thoughts returned to the present. And the mess! She spied her target sitting by the fire and approached him. "Sir,the reports are true. I saw with my own eyes." Lynk suppressed the urge to flinch at the thought of what she had indeed seen with her own eyes. Or the aftermath of it at least. "The entire family sir, nailed to the floor. My sources say they thought he was one of ours. This was meant for us, Sir." The man waited patiently as Lynk paused for a second in consideration. "The fountain, there is less information about but the list. The name was on it, Sir..." Frustration flickered in the man's eyes as he gave a heavy sigh and nodded. "Alright then," he murmured. Lynk produced a piece of parchment and watched as the man put his signature on it a bit slowly. "Sssir..." Lynk said softly, her concern for the matters at hand letting her strange lisp show through. A small tick and a quick blink of her odd eyes and she regained control of herself again. He looked up and the two shared a moment of concerned silence. Lynk nodded to the man and took the signed request. "I'll make sure he gets it, Sir. Is there anything else I can do?" Lynk asked lightly. The man was already shaking his head before she finished her sentance. Lynk turned on her heels walked briskly out of the lounge. Where would he be at this time of the day? Where was he ever? Always here, but always gone... By the gods he was a strange one... But it was important she find him quickly for their next step.
What would happen? Who, or what... was doing this? To Lynk that had an obvious answer, and to many other in the Order of the Radiant Heart as well. Long Death. The only group capable of that particular kind of torture, to be sure. "They'll pay," Lynk vowed softly to the innocent family who died a needless death. "And I'll find the one who thought it was so funny to give a list like that!" Angirly Lynk snatched the chatkcha from her boot to stroke it's length as she stalked down the hallways looking for Psycho. The tanks would need preparation and he would the one to start it.
What would happen? Who, or what... was doing this? To Lynk that had an obvious answer, and to many other in the Order of the Radiant Heart as well. Long Death. The only group capable of that particular kind of torture, to be sure. "They'll pay," Lynk vowed softly to the innocent family who died a needless death. "And I'll find the one who thought it was so funny to give a list like that!" Angirly Lynk snatched the chatkcha from her boot to stroke it's length as she stalked down the hallways looking for Psycho. The tanks would need preparation and he would the one to start it.
Returning a Life
The hours had passed, the sun had finally relinquished its hold on the island, leaving it in the shadows cast by the dark ring of rocky mountains. With steps soft and silent, Banion passed through the quiet paths of the village, sticking to the shadows.
The sounds of goblins from the nearby tower carried on the wind, but it did not unnerve Banion in the least. He reached the graveyard and picked his way by the newly cresting moon's light to Arlenia's resting place. "Child, you will have your revenge. I can't live knowing you didn't. Then, you can rest."
It took a full two hours for Banion to move the earth over Arlenia's body. Sinking into the dark hole, he hoisted the decaying, skeletal remains over his shoulder, then onto the ground beside the grave. He hefted himself from the hole, sweat beading on his aging pate. He laid out the contents of his pack, and opened the tome. It had been many a long year since he had practiced his necromancy. He knew it would also be a risk, a ripple in the fabric of magic that would alert the dark wizards that he was, in fact, still alive. But Banion was driven, and by a calm madness, he started weaving his spell.
"By tenebris lux nocturna,
in utero mortis,
puero hoc tenebrarum nativitate,
eius obligaverit vita ad meam,
porta illam anima pennis doloris,
illi mentem profundissimum solitudo."
Banion cut deep into his forearm, spilling his blood onto Arlenia's putrid remains. He watched a red and sinister light form around her body and staggered back onto his rear as she took in a breath and screamed into the night a screech of abject terror that silenced even the goblin's usual raucous hoots. Banion breathed heavily, and slowly began to smile.
The sounds of goblins from the nearby tower carried on the wind, but it did not unnerve Banion in the least. He reached the graveyard and picked his way by the newly cresting moon's light to Arlenia's resting place. "Child, you will have your revenge. I can't live knowing you didn't. Then, you can rest."
It took a full two hours for Banion to move the earth over Arlenia's body. Sinking into the dark hole, he hoisted the decaying, skeletal remains over his shoulder, then onto the ground beside the grave. He hefted himself from the hole, sweat beading on his aging pate. He laid out the contents of his pack, and opened the tome. It had been many a long year since he had practiced his necromancy. He knew it would also be a risk, a ripple in the fabric of magic that would alert the dark wizards that he was, in fact, still alive. But Banion was driven, and by a calm madness, he started weaving his spell.
"By tenebris lux nocturna,
in utero mortis,
puero hoc tenebrarum nativitate,
eius obligaverit vita ad meam,
porta illam anima pennis doloris,
illi mentem profundissimum solitudo."
Banion cut deep into his forearm, spilling his blood onto Arlenia's putrid remains. He watched a red and sinister light form around her body and staggered back onto his rear as she took in a breath and screamed into the night a screech of abject terror that silenced even the goblin's usual raucous hoots. Banion breathed heavily, and slowly began to smile.
Readying the Ritual
Banion stared out of his small window, watching the children filled with dirt run about with wild and free abandon. He stared, his arms folded, as the parents spoke jovially with their fellow villagers. He felt the bile rise in his throat. He pulled the small flap down, sending the hut into darkness.
It had been... Banion didn't know how long it had been since the big gladiator had walked in with Arlenia's body in his arms, accompanied by the man in robes, her head resting on her stomach. He had nothing to say and there was nothing he could do but stare. What had occurred was only what Banion could consider an injustice in the worst degree. The big gladiator was a murderer, as was his friend. They had taken from the island a troubled woman, but an islander. And it burned a hole in Banion's heart.
Banion crossed to the table and lit a candle. He glanced about the hut, ensuring all windows were closed, his wood paneled door latched. He slowly moved the table out, its legs scraping on the floor with a hollow sound. Banion moved the candle down, his fingers caressing a long board, lifting it up. Beneath it lay a tome, wrapped in leather. With practiced ease, the man lifted the book and laid it with a thunk on the table. He tossed back the flaps of leather and laid bare the tome, "Raising the Dead and Ensuring Control."
Banion sighed as he hefted the book into his bag. He went to his small cabinet and pulled down various herbs, vials, as well as a few nefarious ingredients hidden away. He grabbed a ritual dagger from the rear of his cabinet and placed it all in his bag. He knew that Arlenia had been pained in life, he knew she would suffer even more in death - but he also knew once he placed the shambles of her spirit back into her carcass, she could go forth and gain her vindication. Then, if she chose, he could release her back into eternal slumber.
For now, he would have to wait. Banion blew out the candle, and in the dark of his hut, he whispered on a faint breath the spells that would bring Arlenia back into being. Tonight was the full moon. It would be done this evening, the right amount of time had passed, and Banion would be ready.
It had been... Banion didn't know how long it had been since the big gladiator had walked in with Arlenia's body in his arms, accompanied by the man in robes, her head resting on her stomach. He had nothing to say and there was nothing he could do but stare. What had occurred was only what Banion could consider an injustice in the worst degree. The big gladiator was a murderer, as was his friend. They had taken from the island a troubled woman, but an islander. And it burned a hole in Banion's heart.
Banion crossed to the table and lit a candle. He glanced about the hut, ensuring all windows were closed, his wood paneled door latched. He slowly moved the table out, its legs scraping on the floor with a hollow sound. Banion moved the candle down, his fingers caressing a long board, lifting it up. Beneath it lay a tome, wrapped in leather. With practiced ease, the man lifted the book and laid it with a thunk on the table. He tossed back the flaps of leather and laid bare the tome, "Raising the Dead and Ensuring Control."
Banion sighed as he hefted the book into his bag. He went to his small cabinet and pulled down various herbs, vials, as well as a few nefarious ingredients hidden away. He grabbed a ritual dagger from the rear of his cabinet and placed it all in his bag. He knew that Arlenia had been pained in life, he knew she would suffer even more in death - but he also knew once he placed the shambles of her spirit back into her carcass, she could go forth and gain her vindication. Then, if she chose, he could release her back into eternal slumber.
For now, he would have to wait. Banion blew out the candle, and in the dark of his hut, he whispered on a faint breath the spells that would bring Arlenia back into being. Tonight was the full moon. It would be done this evening, the right amount of time had passed, and Banion would be ready.
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