A Missing Piece ~~Awakenings~~

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DwMcAliley
Posts: 53
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2012 10:02 am

A Missing Piece ~~Awakenings~~

Post by DwMcAliley »

Zeddar watched as the man shuffled down the street, his back bent and his head hanging low. The beggar wore the remnants of a tattered robe that was, in several places, actually tied to his body. Long, greasy locks fell forward, obscurring his face, but the tangled mass of a wild and unkempt beard fanned out over his chest. The man stumbled and caught himself on the old boarding house. His hand left a grimy smudge on the stone, and Zeddar could smell the reek of him across the street.

Then, briefly, the man raised his head, and scanned the dark alleys around him, peering into the shadows with surprisingly keen eyes. When that gaze swept past him, Zeddar felt his blood run cold and his pulse began to pound in his ears. The face was different, but those wretched eyes never would.

Zeddar whispered the words of power, "An Ex Por," and crushed the reagents in his hand, willing the paralysis net into existence and casting the spell at the man. He was careful with his aim, though, and the man toppled forward, his head spinning this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of his attackers.

"GUARDS!!! GUARDS!!!" The man called, but no one came.

Zeddar stepped calmly out of the shadows and crossed the empty street. This corner of Occlo rarely saw any foot traffic, and Zeddar knew there would be no prying eyes at this hour...only the occasional stray dog and the stars to bear witness. Zeddar knelt next to the frozen man, who was now watching him with wide, hate filled eyes. He brushed one greasy, tangled lock of hair out of the man's eyes, and placed a hand calmly on his shoulder.

"The guards won't come, Fiorn," Zeddar whispered softly.

"My name is not Fiorn," The man spat, "I am Wilke, an humble beggar."

Zeddar's grip tightened, and the man winced, "Your face may have changed, but it is you. I name you Fiorn, the Wanderer...Fiorn, the Oathbreaker....Fiorn the Kinslayer. Names have a power...you taught me that, all those lives ago. And now, I know yours."

Veins on either side of Fiorn's neck bulged as he strained against the paralysis net, but nothing below his chin moved. He was held tighter than if he'd been bound with good steel chains. Finally, exhausted, Fiorn slumped against the spell that held his body rigid, and he wept silently.

"Yes, names have power," Zeddar whispered, bending so that his mouth was next to Fiorn's ear, "You were my teacher once...when you wore a different man's face. You took an oath to my family...an oath sealed in blood....your blood and my father's. I've always wondered, did it pain you when you drove the enchanted spike through my mother's eye and killed her and all of the children she birthed? Did you feel that oath then?"

Fiorn sobbed, and Zeddar released his grip on the man's shoulder. He stood, and stared down at the broken, wretched creature at his feet. He pitied Fiorn, though he wished it were not so. The paralysis net waivered, but solidified. The spell would evaporate soon enough, so Zeddar had to move swiftly.

He drew a dagger, and with a series of words whispered in the ancient tongue of the Mystics, Zeddar made a small cut on his left palm. He let the blood sprinkle over Fiorn as he spoke.

"By your blood you are bound to my family, Fiorn," Zeddar said, "And by that blood I call you to service. Your body may have changed, but the words you spoke bound your eternal soul. And by that oath I call you. Go to your master, whatever rock he is hiding beneath, and tell him that Zeddar has awakened. Tell him that Zeddar walks again."

"I won't!" Fiorn shrieked, struggling once more against the spell that barely held him, "I WON"T go back THERE!!!"

Zeddar knelt and put his face so close to Fiorn's that he could smell the beggar's rank breath, "You will go, Fiorn, and you will deliver my message exactly as I gave it to you. I don't know if your oath still holds your soul or not... but if we're going to test a magic that was already ancient when both our souls were young, then I'm glad it's your soul we're testing it with. Who knows what deep and dark powers you might call forth if you refuse a blood summoning, but I'm sure it will be spectacular. What do you say?"

Fiorn stared at him, eyes wide and full of fear before finally nodding. Zeddar smiled and released the paralysis spell, which crumbled as soon as he let it go. Zeddar took a deep breath to steady himself. So much exertion had nearly drained his strength. It would do him good to remember that he was a long way yet from his former power. He stood and pulled Fiorn to his feet.

"Discharge this order, and I will release you from your oath," Zeddar said, "You will be free."

Fiorn grimaced, "Free?" He turned his head and spat, "You know nothing of the prison I've suffered. So long it's been since I was free.... I can't remember what it felt like now. You were supposed to die too. I remember you...sniveling little welp. Can't believe I forgot that you were cut from your mother's belly, not born. The spell couldn't touch you....couldn't take your soul. You were the one who was supposed to die most. And I've paid... paid so much for my failure."

Zeddar took a step toward Fiorn, "What do you mean, 'take my soul?'" Zeddar asked, his eyes suddenly full of rage.

"The spike," Fiorn said, cowering back a step, "It was enchanted. Cursed. It stole your mother's soul and all of her children. Kept them locked in the spike to feed the Dark Lord's power."

Zeddar felt as if someone had stabbed him in the heart. He stumbled, and fell to his knees. His mother, his brothers...his sister.... all trapped and at the mercy of that monster. Fiorn saw his opportunity and took a step forward, attacking the weakness.

"I understand your sister lasted the longest," Fiorn hissed, hatred thick in his voice, "She held out for more than a century before her essence flickered and finally went out. I wonder what that must have been like for her... a hundred years and more of being slowly devoured, one bite at the time."

Zeddar shot to his feet, his fingers closing around Fiorn's throat. He lifted the beggar easily off the street, and the man's feet kicked in the air. Zeddar was a breath away from crushing Fiorn's larynx and watching him die. But, slowly, he brought himself back under control. He set Fiorn back on the ground, and the beggar stumbled, coughing and wheezing.

"Go, Fiorn the Betrayer," Zeddar rasped, "Deliver my message to your master, and let his fear become your own. The next time I see you, I will destroy you."

Fiorn opened his mouth, but the summoning held him. He spat a vile curse, and shuffled off down the street, muttering to himself. Zeddar watched until the wretched creature turned down an alleyway out of sight. Zeddar thought of his mother....her face....her smile.... he thought of his three brothers, and their honor.... he though of his baby sister, and her laugh.

Zeddar tried to take a step forward, but he fell to his knees. The pain and the past washed over him, and Zeddar wept.

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Bixby Legbone
Posts: 1219
Joined: Sun Mar 31, 2013 2:42 am

Re: A Missing Piece ~~Awakenings~~

Post by Bixby Legbone »

Intriguing story. Will there be updates? A man finds out that the souls of his family have been consumed, and let's the person who carried out the act free to live? Can the souls of his family be rescued, or freed from their hell? Is the beggar an act, to fool additional souls into trusting him long enough that he can kill them too? How does one face an enemy that eats souls for power?
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DwMcAliley
Posts: 53
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2012 10:02 am

Bitter tears ~~Awakenings~~

Post by DwMcAliley »

Fiorn the Wanderer stumbled, and caught himself on the rotted trunk of what was once a tree. The muck around his bare feet sucked at his toes and stank of rot. Still, even the vile creatures of the swamp knew enough to give him a wide berth. He had no need to fear here. Here, he was the powerful one.

Fiorn spat to the side. That pompous wizard thought he knew power. He knew nothing. Fiorn had watched elder men and wiser twist and weep, and finally break under the Dark Lord's power. He had broken some of them. Fiorn smiled to himself, relishing in his own sense of granduer, a small trail of spittle spilling down his cheek as he slugged through the swamp.

He could feel it now, no matter which way he turned. It was like a lead weight on his soul, draggin him south and west. He could point to where the mountains stood, though he was still hundreds of leagues from being able to see even their shadow on the horizon. Still, he knew they were there. The weight of the summoning had settled on him, and like it or not, he was bound.

Fiorn's feet became tangled in a long dead vine, and he fell full foward, his face smacking the wet, steaming mud. When he finally made it back to his feet, Fiorn tried to wipe the sickening slime from his face, but it clung to the skin of his fingers and hands, smearing more than cleaning. Finally, though, he got his eyes clear of it, and he blinked back tears to open them again.

And there, standing barely twenty feet from him, clad only in the thinnest film of a robe, was the most stunningly beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She had curves that called to him and woke fires he thought had long been smothered. The way she stood, hips slightly thrust to the side, head tilted down just a bit, so that her honey hair flowed over her shoulders and framed her face. She was so beautiful Fiorn almost forgot to breath.

For a moment, Fiorn thought that his Master had decided to reward him for his faithful service. Perhaps he'd sent this woman to give him pleasure... but that was not his Master's way.

"Tears are bitter'st," The woman said in a sweet, sultry voice, "When for..."

"Oneself they're wept," Finished a rough, grating voice, to Fiorn's right.

He turned and found himself face to face with what he at first mistook for a twisted, rotting stump. The hag was hunched almost double, her wrinkled flesh sagging over gnarled bones. Her milky white eyes stared balefully at him, and her teeth were moldy black stumps.

"But sweet'st honey," A new, hollow voice intoned, "When for another kept."

Fiorn turned to his left to find a woman unnaturally tall and thin. Her skin was pale white and her veins stood out as a stark blue beneath it. Her hair was thing, straggly, and brittle. Her eyes were jet black with no whites.

"What tears to stain that face of thine?" The first witch asked, walking slowly forward, her ruby lips parted in a sensual smile. Each step was a dance of seduction.

"Sweet'st honey?" Grated the gnarled hag to his right as she limped and lunged toward him.

"Or sour'd wine?" The black-eyed witch intoned in her hollow voice as she moved forward in a strange, shuffling step that seemed to move her more with each step than the length of her stride should make possible.

In the span of a few confused, terrified heartbeats, Fiorn found himself surrounded, the three witches circleing him slowly. He tried to spin, to catch the ones not speaking as they walked around him, but somehow he never could move fast enough. The mud and rotting vegetation at his feet seemed to hold him fast, refusing to give.

As the beautiful witch passed in front of him, she trailed one long-nailed finger along his jaw line and smiled, "Tears wept on ice may freeze thy soul," She said in a soft whisper.

"Tears wept on stone bear a heavy toll," The gnarled hag grated at him as she stumped past.

"Tears wept on ash tell the dead man's past," The tall, specterly witch said, her voice seeming to echo off the air.

The first witch sauntered past him again, trailing her hand along his chest, "Tears wept in the sea, forever last."

"Your bitter tears shall the demons slate," The bent and hobbled witch grated, her breath reeked of the rank swamp.

"For they bind thy soul," The ghostly witch said in her hollow, echoing voice.

From behind him, so close he could feel her warm breath on his ear, the seductive witch whispered, "And twist thy Fate."

Fiorn spun around, ready to throw his arms around the beautiful woman, no matter what might happen...

But he was alone. Only the twisted gnarled trunks of the swamp nags stood around him, draped with gray hanging moss. Fiorn looked at the ground all around him, but there were no footprints...no tracks of any kind. Alone, in the rancid rot of the swamp, Fiorn slowly trudged one foot in front of the other, and wept bitter tears.

The deep, dark halls of Shame were there, in the south....hundreds of leagues away....and he could have pointed straight at them.

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Bixby Legbone
Posts: 1219
Joined: Sun Mar 31, 2013 2:42 am

Re: A Missing Piece ~~Awakenings~~

Post by Bixby Legbone »

Keep it up!
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