Roughly piled atop each other, the stones formed a simple pyramid. Eyeing it, the man found a spot to insert the stone, and strengthen the pile. He placed it close to the base, with great care. To the drow, it seemed as though he were loathe to see the pile fall apart. "Why do you do this?"
"For luck." he replied. "Not many make the trip. Not today. But I'm cautious - I'd like his help if I'm lost." She nodded, and looked up into the tree. She had planted it some four centuries ago.
At it's base she had buried the curled, grey-haired body of a half-orc who didn't know her. Some miles off, the dim lights of a logging camp could be seen. The young strider explained that this same tree would soon be logged, as had the rest of the forest. "They have new machines now, that take the trees down quickly."
The young strider looked up into the branches reverently, searching. But he saw nothing. After a brief prayer, he left, whistling, with the wind at his back - bound for parts unknown.
When he was safely gone, she pulled down a nearby branch, and examined the stems. Each terminated in a small green leaf, all but one. Replacing her leaf at the end of one stem, it fused there, and the silver lining its edge faded.
A wind pushed at the limbs then, and a rustling shurring surrounded her. Climbing up onto a branch, she rested against the trunk of the great tree, and rested her old bones. Before long the branches shook again with the wind, and a rustling worked its way down from the upper-most branches.
"How goes it, Laish?"
Leaning sideways against the trunk of the tree, the voice of her old friend echoed in her soul. She could see him, crouched down as was his way, his head cocked, eyes searching her.
"I'm tired Krog." She felt a sympathetic nod.
"Then rest for a while here, with me."
Her friend surveyed the land, and lingered in the direction of the camp.
"I can't stay here much longer, I don't think. It's time I go." Her heart sank.
Alone, without even the ghost of an old friend for comfort.. She nodded, and grinned, remembering her half-orc friend's vision of his afterlife, his eternal reward.
"I'll wander through every land unknown to men, places that no longer exist, and places that never will."
It made her glad to imagine her old friend cresting peaks, and looking down at some new discovery, his eyes young.
"Maybe you'd like to come with me?" She nodded sleepily, and a smile appeared on her thinning lips. "Let me rest first, Krog, then we'll go." He was always in a rush to get moving!
The trunk of the tree supported her, until her breathing stopped. A rush of wind crept through the tall grass, crouched up against the tree, sprang up into the branches, and then out into the cool night air.
Final Far Wandering [1]
NOTE: This appeared in August of 2002, as my vision of how Krog's story might end, and as a general musing of what happens to old adventurers who outlive their enemies, and their friends. This never 'happened' but it was fun to write.
.....
A doglike creature reared its head in the darkness, four tentacles dangling from just above its mouth. Lowering its head again, the tentacles dug back into the brain of the duergar dwarf's body. They writhed and slithered, trying to get further into the braincase. With a moist crunch, the small corpse's head shattered, and the brain slid out into the creature's waiting mouth.
Gobbling madly at the pale white flesh, it was soon joined by the rest of the pack, drawn psionically to the feast. All but one. The leader of the pack paced, its primitive but sensitive mind scanning for a hidden presence. Sensing a sentient being, it bounded off into the eternal darkness.
It followed the stray thought as a shark would follow a drop of blood.
The pack followed, splitting off through the honeycomb passageways, mentally linked to each other. Working in perfect unison, as one mind, they closed in on their prey. Broadcasting confusion, entrapment and hopelessness, their pack-mind spread out to encircle the newcomer.
A tall, thin figure raised a hand as the leader lept, feeder tentacles reaching.
Thick webbing enfolded the creature, and it fell to the floor.
The others paced at a distance. More webs sprang from an outstretched hand, filling the cavern. The figure walked off, leaving the pack trapped. Waving a hand non-chalantly at them, the ceiling of the cavern began descending.
Pulling her hood back, the drow wizardress watched the creatures race into the webs to escape. The ceiling continued to fall, until only their heads snapped at her from the narrow space left.
Cessarids," she muttered under her breath, as she watched the last of them perish. The illithid were becoming increasingly lax in their control of their hunting beasts. Her face was deeply lined. Once thick, luxurious white hair was now so thin that it floated about her in a frayed nimbus. The weight of six hundred winters weighed heavily upon her, but she was not hunch-backed, as some old women become. As the years had progressed, she had descended lower and lower into the warm earth, so that the heat could ease the growing pain in her joints.
Now, she ascended to the sunlit world again. To visit family.
.....
Under the stars she traveled. When her aging body failed her, her Art did not. Entering into The Weave, she felt the sensation of flower petals being drawn over her closed eyelids. It was impractical to travel so boldly in The Underdark, where it was all too possible to emerge into a wall of solid rock.
Instead she emerged into a green, moonlit field, hundreds of leagues away, and let out a great sigh. Reaching into her cloak, her sharp fingernail sliced at the hem of a hidden pocket.
Her hand withdrew a tiny green leaf, silvered at the edges, overladen with lost memories. Leaning heavily on her staff, she let the leaf guide her.
After a time, she became aware of another walking in the tall grass. A tall, lanky man, emerged from the dark greenery, his dagger held aloft in plain sight. "No harm to you, old mother." Scowling slightly, she returned, "And none to _you_, greenleaf." They walked together, but he eyed her suspiciously.
"Are you here for a blessing of good travel?" he asked. She shook her head. "Where are you headed?" she asked. The young man grinned, and it was a familiar grin. But not quite the same. He shrugged, and maintained his roguish smile.
"I've no idea. That's why I'm here. I'll follow the wind, most likely." A great bloom of leaves rose before them, like a dark-green dawn. The main trunk of the tree rose up like a column, and then branches exploded in every direction. As they approached, the young man reached down to the grass and pulled a stone from the ground.
Necessary
I have torn through countless villages. I have single-handed brought down militias. I have defeated armies. I have killed a king. All of this, terrible. I had never before stayed behind after a battle. I like home. It is easy, it is simple. I do not know why this time I remained camped with the army. I beared witness The One Who Endures, Lord on the Rack, the Crying God Ilmater manifested in a bleeding body. His wounds never closed. They simply drained the blood from his hairy body wearing only
a breechcloth. The Suffering -- the clergy of his faith -- took notice of this man. No matter their efforts, they could not stop his bleeding.
A few chanted spells of healing, others mixing herbs together to clot the blood. They started to amass. A man appeared on the hill. Those gathered started to speak of the Exalted Sufferer. This was the leader of their religion. Truly it was a sight to behold. The Exalted Sufferer descended to the bleeding man, and held out his hand. Though it obviously bore the bleeding man great pain, he stood and walked with the Exalted Sufferer. Horses were brought. The man was mounted, and had begun to wail in pain. They started to strike out at our army in camp. The bleeding man used his hands like shortswords. I took notice and secured my chainmail to the boiled leather underbody. The bleeding man was an efficient machine. No one noticed me while the bleeding man obliterated. I motioned for my squire to mount my fullplate mail. I grabbed my great helm, fastened it, and made for my horse. I rode away quickly. I knew this bleeding man would endure anything I could sustain against him.
As I left camp, a Sufferer waved for me to halt. I reached to my side and readied my greatsword. I meant to cut him down, but something stopped me. I slowed my horse. "Haven't you heard?" he asked. "Ilmater has blessed us with his presence. His avatar defeats those who caused this suffering!" I had to ride on. This was Ilmater incarnated. He was there for me. My long time of service, of rape, of murder, of shame. I know now I must repent for what I have done, so the Crying God may once again manifest himself.
a breechcloth. The Suffering -- the clergy of his faith -- took notice of this man. No matter their efforts, they could not stop his bleeding.
A few chanted spells of healing, others mixing herbs together to clot the blood. They started to amass. A man appeared on the hill. Those gathered started to speak of the Exalted Sufferer. This was the leader of their religion. Truly it was a sight to behold. The Exalted Sufferer descended to the bleeding man, and held out his hand. Though it obviously bore the bleeding man great pain, he stood and walked with the Exalted Sufferer. Horses were brought. The man was mounted, and had begun to wail in pain. They started to strike out at our army in camp. The bleeding man used his hands like shortswords. I took notice and secured my chainmail to the boiled leather underbody. The bleeding man was an efficient machine. No one noticed me while the bleeding man obliterated. I motioned for my squire to mount my fullplate mail. I grabbed my great helm, fastened it, and made for my horse. I rode away quickly. I knew this bleeding man would endure anything I could sustain against him.
As I left camp, a Sufferer waved for me to halt. I reached to my side and readied my greatsword. I meant to cut him down, but something stopped me. I slowed my horse. "Haven't you heard?" he asked. "Ilmater has blessed us with his presence. His avatar defeats those who caused this suffering!" I had to ride on. This was Ilmater incarnated. He was there for me. My long time of service, of rape, of murder, of shame. I know now I must repent for what I have done, so the Crying God may once again manifest himself.
Diary of a mad man
Entering the room Rosso knew what this meeting was about, his life and death in the clan Long Death. In the room there was Rahvin, pheniox,Darxal and Mortis the head masters of the clan. Only Pheniox spoke, with such a loud tone it couldn't be forgotten you must surrender your soul to death. Show us you have what it takes to be one of us. Rosso begin to speak about his clan symbol then stopped. He nodded in approval and with that he was off to Market square.
Day 1
There sat Devout, Stephy,Dimitri and another person I didn't recognize. I knew I must get their attention somehow so I asked the paperboy for a quest, hoping that they would follow. But I was too fast for them. I had to come back and fight my way to death. So It happened the first kill, so powerful it crashed his heart and soul to remove his clan symbol. When I came back into reality my life force was down and devout of the hoard had healed me to my death, so his friend hit me once again I was faced with another trial do I go back and fulfill my destiny or do I sit idly by and watch it go to waste.
Day 2
I arrived back at market square some hours later the dust had settled no one was there, and then came a halforc gladiator by the name of Zekai a few pokes of him to me got him furious to hit me. This trial was to watch my life before my eyes. To not attack just to watch. Zekai fell flat at least a dozen times but in the end I lay flat from his blade.
day 3
I awoke quickly with a start the next trial being friendship, I found Xeptimus sitting on the bench questioning what I was doing there why I was hitting him. He gave into temptation and attacked and once again I fell to a blade.
day 4
The next trial was a gang bang. Die to as many people as possible: I ran to market square as fast as I could gassed the room and five of them pop out of the smoke and are all on me. I try to fight back it's to much I fall to Dimitri.
day 5
The next trial, die to a priest to come back wealthy in the afterlife. I didn't heal for this one. I know priests are the worse. I found the target. It was Devout the devoted hoard member, I sent a rock his way and one hit of his weapon I fell once again
day 6
Trial 6 die to your own kind: looking for another spell caster like myself I found the lonely vonrak sitting there sipping on a Lipton ice tea I attacked him first but his friends sipping on juice boxes hit me too but in the end I fell to a rock.
day 7
Day of reckoning get help to fight a known enemy, then die by him: I found 3 buddies and attempted to kill variable the invariable but the weapon was to strong it was my weakness. In seconds I died.
day 8
The day of rebirth: Die to be a born again clansmen. I rushed to market square so fast knowing this was the end of the trial. Found my target then died to Variable the invariable.
Signed, Rosso deh Aposso
Day 1
There sat Devout, Stephy,Dimitri and another person I didn't recognize. I knew I must get their attention somehow so I asked the paperboy for a quest, hoping that they would follow. But I was too fast for them. I had to come back and fight my way to death. So It happened the first kill, so powerful it crashed his heart and soul to remove his clan symbol. When I came back into reality my life force was down and devout of the hoard had healed me to my death, so his friend hit me once again I was faced with another trial do I go back and fulfill my destiny or do I sit idly by and watch it go to waste.
Day 2
I arrived back at market square some hours later the dust had settled no one was there, and then came a halforc gladiator by the name of Zekai a few pokes of him to me got him furious to hit me. This trial was to watch my life before my eyes. To not attack just to watch. Zekai fell flat at least a dozen times but in the end I lay flat from his blade.
day 3
I awoke quickly with a start the next trial being friendship, I found Xeptimus sitting on the bench questioning what I was doing there why I was hitting him. He gave into temptation and attacked and once again I fell to a blade.
day 4
The next trial was a gang bang. Die to as many people as possible: I ran to market square as fast as I could gassed the room and five of them pop out of the smoke and are all on me. I try to fight back it's to much I fall to Dimitri.
day 5
The next trial, die to a priest to come back wealthy in the afterlife. I didn't heal for this one. I know priests are the worse. I found the target. It was Devout the devoted hoard member, I sent a rock his way and one hit of his weapon I fell once again
day 6
Trial 6 die to your own kind: looking for another spell caster like myself I found the lonely vonrak sitting there sipping on a Lipton ice tea I attacked him first but his friends sipping on juice boxes hit me too but in the end I fell to a rock.
day 7
Day of reckoning get help to fight a known enemy, then die by him: I found 3 buddies and attempted to kill variable the invariable but the weapon was to strong it was my weakness. In seconds I died.
day 8
The day of rebirth: Die to be a born again clansmen. I rushed to market square so fast knowing this was the end of the trial. Found my target then died to Variable the invariable.
Signed, Rosso deh Aposso
The Exiled Soul -I-
What dreams I've had of late, and yet not a single nightmare. There wasn't any reason tonight would be different than the hundreds previous. The God I once knew had abandoned me. Tossed aside like a plaything that was no longer amusing. The night sky in the hills this time of year was actually very pretty, but there was no solace in it. I had once drew power from the God of Nightmares, but the haze of such a time was fading as it it were only a Nightmare.
Often I'd think about how easily we'd been swept aside in the end. The armies of Vector were strong enough to force a foothold and scare the Tripower into submission for years. Even with Kefka dead, they were perhaps now even more dangerous. Might is right. There's no denying it. The events of the last 10 years had hardened my heart. Not that I was weak before, I'd delighted in being the Nightmare of Magic, the Exile, the bringer of death. But there was nothing left to persue along those lives. The person who had championed the night may as well be dead. Even my own magical aura seemed to pulse with energy that was not of the Gods.
There was no more sleep left for tonight and I stood up from my small camp and began packing my things. I thought how strange it was that I should wait all this time before making this journey. It seemed unbelieveable that the old "hell hath no fury" line didn't quite apply. There were reasons far beyond the obvious for finding her place again. Perhaps, there were those who would take her in. It could just be that she would wind up the Exile once more. Searching for meaning in life.
But then again...
Perhaps, It was time to find some old "friends"...
Often I'd think about how easily we'd been swept aside in the end. The armies of Vector were strong enough to force a foothold and scare the Tripower into submission for years. Even with Kefka dead, they were perhaps now even more dangerous. Might is right. There's no denying it. The events of the last 10 years had hardened my heart. Not that I was weak before, I'd delighted in being the Nightmare of Magic, the Exile, the bringer of death. But there was nothing left to persue along those lives. The person who had championed the night may as well be dead. Even my own magical aura seemed to pulse with energy that was not of the Gods.
There was no more sleep left for tonight and I stood up from my small camp and began packing my things. I thought how strange it was that I should wait all this time before making this journey. It seemed unbelieveable that the old "hell hath no fury" line didn't quite apply. There were reasons far beyond the obvious for finding her place again. Perhaps, there were those who would take her in. It could just be that she would wind up the Exile once more. Searching for meaning in life.
But then again...
Perhaps, It was time to find some old "friends"...
prayers for a dying monk
The Order had clashed with the warriors of Shar protecting Belldandy's escape. Their defensive position had entrenched them within the body of the confrontation. The warriors of Shar were fierce creatures with the head of a dragon the body of a lizard and the temperament of a caged weasel. The Order fought them back but Belldandy's action must have triggered their anger; after her escape the warrior engraved. We had been on the Fields of Shar previously and the dragomen where never like this before. The fight had drained a lot of effort; yet The Order had successfully withstood the attack and had suppressed the warriors aggression. What ever she had done she was keen to have hidden the body of the unbinding ritual from the Order.
Since the battle The order had been trying to play catchup, a game they were not used to playing. The group had gathered at the temple every night in numbers for the past week. They had become stuck with something that seemed so simple. Restore the dying monk.
The dying monk would likely help them with the unbinding ritual. The Nexus Monk himself had proven less than helpful. But the dying monk fought for the words to speak to the group. The group felt the task of freeing the gods slipping from their gasp. Psycho sensed the growing tension within the group and so he ventured to Material Plane and within The Temple of Mask and knelt before Mask's statue and began to pray.
'Oh Mask, Lord of the Shadows savior of The Nexus Temple and the City of Shade please hear my prayers. When we last spoke I asked about the unbinding ritual. I have had significant difficulties preforming the ritual and my men are growing weary. I implore you to again speak with us and help us to reach the Nexus Library. We have fallen behind and without guidance I fear that our resources may not hold, and we will be forced to remove our camp within the Shadow Temple. We still maintain our pledge to free the god and restore Magic and Order to the realms again.'
Since the battle The order had been trying to play catchup, a game they were not used to playing. The group had gathered at the temple every night in numbers for the past week. They had become stuck with something that seemed so simple. Restore the dying monk.
The dying monk would likely help them with the unbinding ritual. The Nexus Monk himself had proven less than helpful. But the dying monk fought for the words to speak to the group. The group felt the task of freeing the gods slipping from their gasp. Psycho sensed the growing tension within the group and so he ventured to Material Plane and within The Temple of Mask and knelt before Mask's statue and began to pray.
'Oh Mask, Lord of the Shadows savior of The Nexus Temple and the City of Shade please hear my prayers. When we last spoke I asked about the unbinding ritual. I have had significant difficulties preforming the ritual and my men are growing weary. I implore you to again speak with us and help us to reach the Nexus Library. We have fallen behind and without guidance I fear that our resources may not hold, and we will be forced to remove our camp within the Shadow Temple. We still maintain our pledge to free the god and restore Magic and Order to the realms again.'
An Intriguing Study (Part 2)
As Azeroth continues watching the line of Hordies entering the tent where moans and mumbles can be heard, one of the Horde members stood out because of the uncanny size of his asshole, that can be seen from a distance.
"Let's call this one Ass..." said Azeroth to himself.
Ass was naked, body glistening in sweat under the hot summer sun. It was his turn as he enter the Leader of the Horde's tent. Sounds of groans can be heard, follow by loud screams and moans of pleasure.
Exits Ass from the tent, suddenly decked out in gear...his lips sore, driping with white fluid and saliva.
"What the fuck?" thought Azeroth to himself as he packs his shit and heads back to MagiTek Fortress to report his findings...
"Let's call this one Ass..." said Azeroth to himself.
Ass was naked, body glistening in sweat under the hot summer sun. It was his turn as he enter the Leader of the Horde's tent. Sounds of groans can be heard, follow by loud screams and moans of pleasure.
Exits Ass from the tent, suddenly decked out in gear...his lips sore, driping with white fluid and saliva.
"What the fuck?" thought Azeroth to himself as he packs his shit and heads back to MagiTek Fortress to report his findings...
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