Uneasy Rest (Abraxius storyline)

Started by Fangedwolf, June 23, 2006, 10:31:28 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Fangedwolf

Yet another repost of this rp thread.

Fangedwolf « on: 28 May 2006, 13:41:25 »
Quote
A figure lies in his bed, sweat beading on his forehead, his rest uneasy. Sleep came to him rarely these days and there was always some brooding and nightmarish scene awaiting him when he did.

Whispers run through his mind, a voice chuckling sadistically as darkness surrounds him, and in that darkness the monsters wait their turn. In his bed, he turns over, his arm shakes, fingers twitch lightly as in his dream he reaches for something that was never there. ~You are mine now Najaal~ the dread voice whispers in his thoughts ~Do not fight it. Embrace who you truely are.~

Darkness surrounds him and he knows the monsters are there. He will never get away, never be safe. The world will never be the same, and he knows it. Not now, not ever. He has to make the choice, the choice he has made so many times before each night as he sleeps, the choice between life and death. "Yes Lord Abraxius" came the murmured words from the mans lips, slightly incoherant in his sleep.

The dark chuckle invades his dreams still ~Good.. good. You shall know your reward my faithful servant. Power and wealth shall be yours and all those that join you. Go now. Go and do my bidding~

Najaal woke with a start, his body shaking from the encounter. Encounter? no, it was a dream, another nightmare. It was one however he could not shake off, not when the threads of darkness still wove around his heart. He had to get up, he had to train more, get those scrolls done.

Only a couple of hours after he had fallen into that uneasy sleep, he was up once more, pacing in the house that few knew where it was, pacing in the room that even fewer could reach. "Ahn Mi Sah Ko" he called to the spirit world to strengthen his shaking body once more.

Rhatoqtrax « Reply #1 on: 30 May 2006, 01:40:52 »
Quote
Rhatoqtrax sleeps in the Guild House of the Gray Assassins while his usual home at Sam's is being reconstructed.

Hearing the noise from the above chamber of his guildmaster, he instantly jumps on his feet, his sword and bow ready to defend his friends. But noone is near, and he couldn't access the private chambers of his master. He knew about the dark arts his master practices and it was all fine in this group of outmost tolerance.

But this time, the noises were almost scary, he almost felt his master to be in danger. So he stayed awake all night until much later Najaal finally emerges his rooms.

"Master ! I am glad to see you in good shape. I was worried if anything would harm you upstairs ! Pray tell, these sounds last night made me feel uncomfortable, is anything wrong ? I shall glady help you against intruders or whatever it was, if only you tell."

Fangedwolf « Reply #2 on: 30 May 2006, 05:39:40 »
Quote
In the headquarters of the Grey Associates, the exhausted Najaal came down the portal and into the social area where he fully intended on getting something to eat to stir his body into working better, when he was confronted by a rather worried Rhatoqtrax.

He watched him for a moment with those greeny hazel eyes, eyes that showed perhaps a little of the exhaustion that had been eating away at him lately, something that not many others got a glimpse of. "Hmm?" he said, absently running a hand through his hair before tying it back in a tail. "Wrong? no, no nothing is wrong. Just uneasy sleep my friend. Do not worry yourself" he offers a slight smile, the tiredness in his stance obvious to a trained fighter.

Moving over to the kitchen, he searches through the footstuffs that were kept there, but none of them seemed appealing to him, not when his nerves made his stomach roll at the thought of eating. He picked up an apple for it seemed the least offensive of all the foods, and moved over to sit down. He could rest a moment before going back to training, just a moment.

It worried him that he had been calling out in his sleep enough to wake the other man, for what else could it be. Surely he hadnt cast any spells that would make sound, surely he needed to be awake to do that?

"You should get some sleep Rhat." he said, glancing back over to the man "I am fine, as you can see." he sighed and looked at the apple in his hand before pushing it away, unable to eat it yet. "I need to get back to work. Theres just too much to do"

Alaric McCree « Reply #3 on: 01 June 2006, 21:12:28 »
Quote
::Abraxius moves from his private chambers, his thoughts still focused on Najaal, the one whom he has spent the last several nights invading his mind. Probing deeper and deeper into Najaals subconscious. His dry cracked lips crease more as he grins::

This one will do fine....

::moving about his summoning chamber he prepares to call forth the next wave of minions when a soft chuckle escapes his lips::

Besides, if he doesn't, he will be dead.

::laughs evilly::

And serve me anyway!

Fangedwolf « Reply #4 on: 02 June 2006, 17:47:37 »
Quote
Sometime later, Najaal is down by the docks. His ragged worn appearance is hidden by the shroud Lord Abraxius had given him some time ago.

"I used to be a loonie" came the voice behind him from the fisherwoman that seemed to continually talk no matter what time of day or night. He grit his teeth, wishing he could silence that voice, but knowing the guards in the area were sure to find out and take his own life as forfeit.

He holds scrolls in his hand and a pouch by his side contains yet more necromancy books he has finally completed. And yet, instead of feeling a satisfaction with the work, there is just an emptiness that is filled with worry. He knows not what to do with himself now, for the Lord is extracting in his expectancies, and he is now without a task.

Restless, he shifts on his horse and glances behind him. A hopeful face looks up at him "Will you take me to Trinsic?". Najaal smiles. What better way to alleviate his bordom than by sending these irritants that disturbed his thoughts into the hands of Lord Abraxius' minions. The fools were even paying him to do it. "Vas Rel Por" he summons the gate and steps through, the traveller following.

Pocketing the cash she gave him, he slips back through the gate the fading sound of her horrified screams perfect counterpart fo his grin of satisfaction.

Trystan « Reply #5 on: 03 June 2006, 16:47:04 »
Quote
When Ephraim was going tp sleep in his new house, me smirked into the darkness of the night.

Today was a good day for him, he finally found first fellows in this world. With a smile on his lips, his mind faded into dreaming.

Fangedwolf « Reply #6 on: 05 June 2006, 19:31:14 »
Quote
Najaal stood at the top of his tower looking out over the land and the sea around him. Things had been going well lately, and he had even managed to get some undisturbed sleep.

More people had joined his guild, and he was pleased at this, though there were other things that bothered him. Hints of treachery, hints of things that he didnt speak about openly that he kept in mind. He would have to speak to ShadowStone of them, or perhaps even Lord Abraxius himself.

His thoughts turned to the being he had given his allegience to and he suppressed a light shudder. Yes, he feared the lich, but more than that it was the power he had, the power and knowlege the lich possessed that he craved. Oh but to learn just some of what Lord Abraxius knew, to tap into that wealth of information. He yearned to learn more, perhaps to earn a place as a Dark Mage where his safety and position would be assured. But would it ever be assured? When even other supporters vied for position by taking each other out, would his place ever be safe.. would his life?

Enough. He diverted his attention back to the people whose allegience he had got for the cause. Strong people that would aid the fight to at least set the balance streight so that good no longer lorded over them. Yes, he must talk to Lord Abraxius soon, he could only hope that his Master contacted him soon.

Other things to were coming to ahead. So many drow around the land lately. Things were changing, and from his point of view, for the better. But how long would he be able to keep up the illusions? Too many had already commented. How long before he slipped up around them?

Fangedwolf « Reply #7 on: Today at 01:20:07 »
Quote
What trickery is this?

He stood staring down into the contents of his pack, stunned and agast at the fate that had befallen him. So long he had worked and this was his reward?! The world was mocking him, he decided, either that or something very close to it.

He remembered that auful wrenching feeling deep in the pit of his stomach the moment it had happened, not once now, but several times.. and then time seemed to fold back on itself. Skills learned had been wiped from his memory, items worked for were gone. He stared at the place the most prized piece of jewellery had once sat and a heaviness came over him. Three times now it had happened this very eve, and he was exhausted with having to work for longer to regain what he had lost, only to lose it again.

Someone was playing with time.

He sat down on the bench and closed the pack over, disgusted at his misfortune. Why did it have to choose that particular moment to do it? Why when that one ring had been the best thing he had yet come accross?

He closed his eyes a moment, exhausted. Perhaps he could get some sleep now, perhaps he could get some sleep, though the words of Kevetsa still murmured in his mind from his visit earler. Did he believe he would get undisturbed rest? No, not now. In some ways it was a comfort, knowing his Lord was taking an interest in him, testing him because he was worthy of this task at hand.

He rested his head down on his arms on the table. Just a moments sleep perhaps. He would get up soon, and start training once more.

Alaric McCree « Reply #8 on: Today at 06:29:49 »
Quote
::Abraxius shakes off his trance, his mind's eye rapidly refocusing from watching his faithful follower to that of the tower he sits in. A smile crosses his lips as he again feels the effects of the evil he has wrought overtaking the land yet again, shifting time again. He knows the wretched leader of those claiming to be "good" will find a way to stop it soon, but he revels in it now while it lasts.::

:: with a renewed vigor he rises and moves to his summoning tower::

"What foul creature can I bring next into this land....."

::His voice trails off as his evil laugh sounds out, echoeing off the walls of his tower::

Fangedwolf « Reply #9 on: Today at 21:15:11 »
Quote
He jerks awake with a start, sure he can still hear the sound of that laughter in his mind. He shivers slightly, drawing his robe closer around him though it would do nothing for this particular chill.

Getting up, he moved from the kitchen, glancing at the newly installed oven with a slight sense of satisfaction. It had taken a long time to install, and costly to, but i was done now, and he was glad. Shaking his head to dismiss such trivialities, he took the teleporter up to the roof, then deep down into his own room, the room that most of the guild never saw.

He smiles, the pattern before him reminding him of others he has seen in the past, remenants from his dreams to. The feeling of power was still there, lingering, waiting for him to tap into. How wonderful the feeling was when he had been out hunting and had called that beast to rights. Took its life, then created another one for it, raising it from the dead into something dark and glorious, if only for a little while.

He closed his eyes and grinned, chuckling as he remembered a time when he would have hesitated to call forth such things. He had been foolish thinking that light and goodness might have something to offer. They were just as deceitful and manipulative as everyone else, but it was the faulse pretense of goodness they hid behind that got to him. Of course there were some that were just empty headed with thoughts of what was right, or those that were so blinded by their own sense of righteousness that they lived to smite everything else down. Was that really so different from them?

He shook his head and crouched down, letting his fingers trail along one of the lines of power that had been drawn. When his Master got back he could set the plans into motion. He would wipe the lies away from those shining faces and show them for what they truely were.

"Soon Master you shall rule this land and they will once more know their place."

Alaric McCree

::the creatures that live near the dark tower have enjoyed this unexpected lapse in activity, to the point of even venturing closer to forage for food. It has been some time since they sensed any activity at all. Suddenly without warning, a brow bear lets out a low growl before falling over dead, the life blood simply vanishing from his body before he hits the ground. The other animals let out various sounds of alarm. Of course it was not needed, all the animals have already begun to flee. The great evil was stirring again, and there was nothing alive in area that failed to sense the revival of the evil within the tower::
Sometimes the dragon wins, that's why there is such a shortage of white knights.

Fangedwolf

It had been a long time now.  A long time of watching and waiting for the Dark Lord to return once more.  What could he do but wait, and train, and recruit? So that was what he had been doing.

But days had turned into weeks, and people were beginning to question whether they needed to bother about the war, whether it would happen at all soon?  What could he tell them, when he had felt the power of his Master start to fade from the places they had once been strong.  Uncertain of what was happening, he had tried to rally more support, gain more alliances to bolster that power until He returned.  But Najaal had told them little.  He would not show the worry he felt that perhaps his Lord had gone back into a mediative slumber and had left them alone again. 

Day after day, night after night he worried, and worried deeply.  Even the dreams that tormented him had faded and not returned, and far from being pleased, he was concerned.  Did this mean Lord Abraxius was displeased with them? no.. no they would be dead if that were the case, surely.  That could only mean that his attention was not upon them, not upon this land.  That was the worrying thing.

Now he stood in the circle of power, as he had done each night reciently, using its power to boost his own as he sought out any sign of his Master, any hint of his presence in the land..  and then he felt it. 

The first death, followed by the sweeping sense of malevolence that slipped accross the land. 

He rose to meet it, embrasing that dark evil and adding his own power to it.  He revelled in the feeling of that power, the sense of utter dread that coiled about his spirit.  He didnt fight it, as he once would.  He knew his path now, he had known it for a long time.  He felt that dark power and knew it could crush and destroy him just as easilly as it could destroy the entire forest, entire cities even. 
He knew it and accepted it. 

"What is your bidding Master?"

Alaric McCree

::As he moves about his tower the events of the night bring a smile to his dry, cracked lips. He even lets out his evil laugh as he remembers parts of the nights events. He makes his way down deep into his tower, intending to record his thoughts onto parchment. His laugh echoes up the stairwell as he sits to write. Then abruptly the laughter stops..........::

Where is it?!   

::quickly he glances around but can see no evidence of anyone other than himself being there::

How did they get in here?! How did they get past my guardian!

::as he glares over to see the bone giant that guarded his most prized possession has not even moved, every animal within three miles of his tower suddenly drops dead, the very life blood simply vanishing from their rapidly decaying bodies::

::his mind races with whom he can send to retrieve the item::

Shadow....no. I need him to continue to lead my army........

::his anger clouds his vision as he decides who to send, enough so that he has not seen the small crack in the south wall, opened up by a root or some other unknown and as of yet unseen presence. The crack in the wall having caused a rent in his magics which defends this most sacred of places to him::

::slowly his mind settles as he comes to a conclusion that sets his mind at ease:::

Ah, I know which of my faithful to send.....

::his mind reaches out to the one he has watched over the most, the one who he knew would be of more use off the battlefield than on it::

I have a task for you, one of immense importance. Come to me my servant.
Sometimes the dragon wins, that's why there is such a shortage of white knights.

Fangedwolf

The nights events had been a trial for him.  So much bloodshed, and much of it his own it had to be said.  Having heard his Masters presence he had gone immediately to his side only to find himself soon in the thick of battle without the much needed presence of people he deemed to call friends who had not been in the realm at the time.  Three of them had stood there, with little skill in fighting but had done so anyway, knowing that death awaited, but knowing also that true death could not find them, not while they served the Dark Lord.

The enemy had come, powerful and fast, cutting them down with dealy precision only to be cut down themselves with little effort with a wave of his Lord's hand, a deft gesture of the staff He held.  And they had risen again to take up the fight, exhausted yet determined and slowly the enemy had been driven off, was forced to conceed battle and leave the city of Zento.

His dagger bloody, he had taken the heads of many from the other side and handed them over to his Lord, all but one that he had been allowed to keep.  For his service he had been rewarded greatly, not only in coin, but in the knowlege that he had done his Master's bidding and done it well.

He relaxed back into his chair the day after, considering these events.  He would spread the word to the faithful.  The Dark Lord wished more heads, and no doubt the promise of handsome rewards for these would be sufficient to get more in the coming days. 

The scent of the candles was rich around him, and he let his mind drift.  He could not stay in this guild much longer.  He was a target now, for those that had been foolish enough not to recognise his allegiences before would not make such a mistake again.  His gift to the guild would be to leave it, and seek pastures more fitting to his temperment.  Should he join the Cult of Malas?  His fingers tapped on the arm of the chair.  He was unsure that would best for the shift in leadership and rankings left him hesitant. 

His thoughts however were drawn sharply from such reminicings however as that powerful mind spoke to his own, the feeling of dread and fear that always accompanied it only making his blood race all the more.  His human guise slipped for a moment, hints of his true heritage showing as his mind was caught by that voice. 

This did not last for long however and soon the mind let his own thoughts go and he stood immediatly, picking up a couple of items from the bookcase behind him along with his bow.  He had been caught unawares last time he had gone to his Lord, unprepared for the battle that had raged.  He would do better in future. 

Drawing the hood up over his head and slipping his cloak about his shoulders he moved through his house, the momentary cloud of vapour clearing near instantly as he teleported to the stable below.  Grabbing a horse he made ready for the journey, quickly turning the animal only to call out the words of power Kal Ort Por his body and that of the horse cast through space to another location.

He was soon racing through the woods, ignoring beasts he would otherwise have stayed to slaughter, the command for his presence far more important.  Many miles he travelled and travelled quickly, until the rotting corpses of the animals in the forest signaled his nearing the tower once more.  He had been very sure to cover his tracks as he went, making certain he was not followed by all means his abilities allowed.

The horse he was on was not happy about proceeding, of course, but he ignored it until it became difficult, the feeling of dread too much for it.  With a twist of his mind he rendered the poor beast as thoughtless as a garden vegetable, his own mind controlling its actions as he went until he reached the tower.  Dismounting, he let his control of the beast slip away and its dying maddened cries filling his ears as he mounted the steps to the tower door.

Others would have been rendered just as mad with fear as the horse now was with the feeling that permiated these tower walls, suffused the air, but he stepped, seemingly unnafected into its midst, the door closing behind him as he moved up to the alter.  There he knelt, his head bowed, no weapon in his hand.

"I am here Lord, what would you have of me?" His words were but a murmur, but he knew the ancient Lich would hear him.

Alaric McCree

::dead eyes stare down upon his faithful servant::   We have much to discuss.... ::seeing others arive a slight grin crosses his lips:: First we will sit and discuss my plans.   

::his gaze moves over those who have arrived::: Sit and let us begin........


::after the completion of the meeting he motions to Shadowstone and Najaal::    You will both remain, I must speak with you alone......


::after imparting his tail he motions towards Shadowstone:::    Lead my army well and bring me victory!

::his expression changes ever so slightly as he looks upon Najaal::    Your mission will keep you from the battle field, but it is of the utmost importance you complete you mission, and as quickly as possible.

::as the two make thier way off to complete their tasks he turns and in a puff of smoke vanishes as well::
Sometimes the dragon wins, that's why there is such a shortage of white knights.

Fangedwolf

It had been a few days now since the meeting with his Lord in that tower.  His minds eye still traced the place, his thoughts still lingered on the tasks given to him.  

He frowned a little, letting his fingers trail into the bloodpool that now sat atop his tower, the rich thick liquid coating his fingertips, barely a ripple from the surface.  Candles flickered all around him like little golden stars compared to silver ones in the night sky overhead.  He sighed softly, breathing in the night air.

There was so much to be done.  So much to consider and plan, and yet, for once it seemed that they had the time to do so.  The campaign in Zhento was so far a success in so much as they had driven the warriors of the light back from it, fought them off a second time.  A smile curved his lips as he thought of the skirmish outside Zhento only reciently.

The Druid Eowerina had requested a parlay with the head of the Cult of Malas, the cult whose support was directly towards Lord Abraxius.  However, any hope of a peaceful conclusion had soon broken down.  They had known it would, for Najaal had had dealings with her in the past and found her to be proud and pig-headed.  

Many had died until only the strongest warriors remained, battling it out.

Although he had been taken down, the power of his recient meeting with his Lord was still with him.  He had struggled against death to complete the plan that had brought them here in the first place should things go wrong.  Death clung to him and tried to keep him there, but his force of will backed by his Masters power was great, great enough even to bring him back from death itself.

He had moved, a spectre and with each step he became more solid as he approached the fallen figure of the druid Eowerina.  Unconscious she lay there and finally he stood over her, whole and alive once more, exhausted but filled with determination.  So caught up with the battle, none of the other side saw him in time calling the gate between realms, nor when he had grabbed her with a strength borrowed from the spirit world itself, as he dragged the unconscious woman through the gate before closing it behind him.

He let her lay there as he called in his horse and got up into the saddle, having, with the help of one of the cult's members, disarmed and tied her, she was dragged behind the horse on her cloak to the cults headquarters.  The sound had been given, whispers of victory over the ethor and soon they all had met.  

There they had done it.  They had broken her spirit in the ritual and used her strength to house the demon.  It had all gone according to plan and she now stood among them, strong and single minded in her purpose to further Lord Abraxius' ambitions.

His gaze settled on the night around him as he remembered with pride that night previous when ShadowStone had become the Commander of Lord Abraxius' army.  There was none better suited to it than he.  Even if he didnt fight, the words and knowlege of Shadow would lead the army to victory, especially with all the new recruits.  

He grinned as he thought of this.  And why would they not come, when they were getting everything they needed here; training, gold, a place to belong, titles to aspire to, and power.  Oh yes, the power.  A grin slipped over his lips, a flash of white teeth in the glimpse of moonlight.  His power and control over it were better than it ever had been, more than he had ever hoped it might be, and this was only the beginning.  He had done well in serving Lord Abraxius.  He had no regrets.

Standing, he wiped his fingertips on a small cloth before discarding it as he moved, the cloth igniting in the air to nothing but a couple of wisps of smoke before that was gone to.  Moving down to the basement he looked around, his gaze falling on the new layout.  Yes, yes this would do nicely.  Everything was in readiness.

A smile touched his lips once more, as he moved away to retire for the evening and get some well needed sleep.
Yes, things were moving according to plan.

Alaric McCree

::time has passed and there have been small gains towards his plans of retaking the land as his own. More have joined his forces and there have even been some converts from those being led by the followers of light. His laughter is frequently heard from his keep. It is however, often short lived as his mind is constantly returning to his one major dilemma::

::trees burn and die, the grass whithers and blows away as his anger reaches out beyond the walls of stone::   

AAaaahhhhhh!   I can find no trace of magical entry, no evidence of a powerful being breaking through my barriers. How can this be?!  There is none as powerful as I am in the dark arts........

::his anger boiling over he sends his mind out searching again. Slowly, his anger fades as he picks up a familiar presence far off in the distance. He knows that his envoy would only return if they had actually found something for him. His anger is replaced with anticipation and he feels the urgency building::

She must get here quickly and safely.....     A large force would attract attention.....  I know who will do it.....

::his eyes close as he focuses his thoughts and attention on one being, one of his most faithful servants and his newly named High Priest. As Najaal sleeps and enjoys this time he was granted for his good works so far his mind is suddenly flooded with images...A hooded rider... a stormy night.....a Strong sense of urgency....the city gates looming....the forces of the dark lord making way....the rider enters the city......Trinsic, his mind recognizes Trinsic.........suddenly his mind registers his master's harsh voice.....as he sleeps, his body feels the full force of his master's will once again......"Go and meet her, bring her safely back to me. Do not fail me in this!"........the pressure and pain suddenly and abruptly vanishes leaving Najaal panting and covered in sweat with one word softly echoing from his lips as he sits bolt upright, awakened by the thought of who he must go and find:::

::barely even whispered the word escapes his lips unbidden:: .....Azzoloth.....
Sometimes the dragon wins, that's why there is such a shortage of white knights.

Eldarace

#8
(most of this is from HIS side point so heres a neutral / against point of view)
The young Elven Prince wakes from his bed, the bright light of his sleeping wife wakens him, it is not often that this happens yet he knows the cause. Walking form the bed in his night robes he tands on the balcany looking into the trees not far from his newly built home. A bird, dispite his night vision he can not tell what, moves, keeping it from his vision, he can sense it presence.
' know you can hear me' he says in a whisper 'you call yourself the lord of the undead and i can feel your presence, I will tell you that you and i will not meet in pleasent cirumstance if we do.'
The bird crows and flys awayleaving Urian in more unease.
'yes' he says to himself ' the last vestiege of the elf you have trapped within a deamons body, it may seve you now yet i hope in time she finds herself again'
as he walks back towards his bed and the glowing Pixie he shares it with he smiles.
'if i met you on my world' he thinks to himself 'we would have such fun against one annother. Here you are the stronger, yet you are but a liche, and i have found many of kinds weakness'
The Elven prince drifts back to sleep yet it is in small supply - The laughter of the liche the Dark Lord Abraxius echoing in his mind

Fangedwolf

#9
Najaal lay on the bed, asleep and undisturbed by the world around him.  Despite being given this leave to recouperate, he had been busy in this time, as he always was, pushing his limits and boundaries, never satisfied, never able to rest completely.  There was always more he felt he should be doing, always more that might be accomplished.

Circumstances had fallen their way, and they had added another to their number, Gorn, one of great ferocity in fighting.  He had seen the man fight in the past, and circumstances had brought the man to be captured by Morden, drugged and held captive, until he had escaped, no real memory of his captivity.  It was this that prompted them to take action to reclaim the man, and it was a good oppertunity to gain another follower, and so it was done.

It had been a good move, for it also weakened the other side, weakened it enough that he managed to get access to Damira's dreams, along with those she had made allies of.  He had tried to get them to step down from the war, but only time would tell.  He had offered much to the man in MarketVale, perhaps more than he should have in terms of the future, but it was done now and they would make their decision.

He turned over, his usually so hard and emotionless face relaxed in sleep, dark grey strands of hair trailing over pale skin.  Recient times had not been easy on him, the strain of upkeeping his position and that of his Master's was no easy task.

Soon though the restful sleep is disturbed, strong images, a vision was pressed into his mind, gripped by that same force that had taken him in the past.  The pain was near unbearable, even for someone like himself whose mind was so powerful.  He might have cried out in agony but for the grip his Master had upon him, that dark voice making the wishes known to him, one last thrust of the others power brought Najaal awake, gasping for breath, the visions still haunting his thoughts. He must go.. he must go now!

Hastilly he got up, drawing on his clothing and armour and grabbing his bag from beside the bed, he hastened to the stable, quickly mounting his horse before setting out for Trinsic, pausing only long enough to call the few of the Lord Abraxius' followers that were around to the cause.

Power cast him accross the lands until he stood in Trinsic, the book of spots in the city grasped in his hand.  He had taken the time in the past to mark out different spots in the city that might be of stretegic value and it was coming in handy now.  Where was she? Where?

It was then he heard the call over the ethor, the call of the woman that was his Masters servant come back.  He realised then it had been a vision, a premonition of things to come.  He hastened to the gate only to see her rush past him, seeming so determined on getting into the city that she failed to notice him, seemed not to hear his hasty cries for her to stop, but by then it was too later. 

She had galloped deep into the enemies midst and they had spotted her, seemed to understand she was someone important for they took chase.  He kept up as best he could, following Azzoloth where she went, losing her several times only to refind her once more.  Her pace never seemed to slacken, her task driving her to keep going, not to stop. 

The Paladin queen had taken it as her own task to follow him wherever he went, tailing him knowing in their small numbers that he was the more likely to find her and be doing something important.  Dodging her several times to different recall spots he once more managed to find his charge, trying to get her to understand they had to leave here, that her Master was waiting. 

But it was too late.  Damira had once more found him, and with her came the numerous  followers, having quit fighitng against the minions of the city to stand in force against them, only he and Kilrain by Azzoloth's side that he knew, and the standoff began.  However it was the Paladin Queen's words that struck something in him.  She spoke of an item that Azzoloth held, one they were planning to take from her.  How.. how had they known?!  Even he, High Priest of Lord Abraxius himself did not know what it was the woman had for Lord Abraxius, he had assumed it was information or perhaps she had found what it was his Master had lost.  How had the enemy known?  How had they known enough to speak those words?

The thought troubled him  "Come, we must go" he tried again, but it was no good for the woman was headstrong, and his words of caution were lost upon her as she goaded the other side into battle, something they seemed unwilling to start with them he noted. 

He could do little but watch as Azzoloth then took on the many strong number of the Sosarian Empire herself.  He had feared she would fall fast, but this was not so, and it soon became apparent why she had been chosen as his Master's envoy for she seemed taken in bloody rage, slaughtering all around her.  He stood back and watched as death after death took Damira's forces until she to fell, leaving the ghosts of many standing, without hope of a quick ressurection.

However Azzoloth was no ordinary fighter, her rage was such that it did not cool, and like a berserker on the taste of blood she couldnt distinguish between friend and foe.  He was left with no other option but to try and lure her away from the city while the enemy wollowed in death.  Mobs waited all around, but he stepped boldy into their midst, knowing this task was more important than even his own life, for it belonged to his Master.  His bow in hand he stayed out of her reach as she followed him, dodging around Hill giants, ettins, orcs.  He tried to call out to his Master, but he fell.

His Master however heard his call, even in death, for he was Lord of that domain, and he felt his spirit given the strength to take form once more, gathering his belongings quickly he lured her further away from the city, the rocky terrain making it difficult going, but the moongate was a beacon to him, a chance for her to escape the land and its city, and go where she needed to go.  Once more did he fall, only to have his spirit reform once more to finish the task his Master set before him until he finally got the glowing moongate, quickly casting it to the destination before luring her through its midst.

There was that tingling through his body, the heat and the coolness before the light faded around him and he staggered a step forward away from the moongate, glancing around to see if she was preparing another attack, but her gaze had cleared, and she looked at him with a clearer intelligence that took in his slightly worn figure as he streightened up and grasped his bow more firmly in one hand.  "Come, Ill take you to him"

And so, accross land they went, Najaal on foot, for his mount had long since been killed and left laying, and she riding on the death steed whose hollow gaze stared into the distance, vacant as they went. 

Soon the his Lords Keep walls loomed over them and he led her inside, the creatures letting them pass unimpeded.  As they entered, his gaze set on his Master who stood there, anticipation in the air.  Najaal said nothing, for what was there to say except something obvious or pointless.  His sharp eyes watched however, caught a glimpse of the scroll that she handed to the Dark Lord, only the words 'The Black Heart' able to be glimpsed before that to was out of sight as his Master turned away to read the contents of the scroll as he walked towards the teleporter, the words murmured "Yes... I can find it's location now for sure" before the puff of vapour and he was gone.

Najaal's gaze turned to the woman as she stood there, clutching at her chest almost as if in pain, her gaze lingering on where their Master had left.  She had said nothing, her long hard journey, and one she had risked her very life for had gone unthanked as of yet.  He watched her turn to stand outside to guard the place until her Master had further need of her.

Left alone once more, the silence of the keep was left undistrubed.  He was bone weary and exhausted not only from the journey, but also from having to help gather the strength to ressurect himself with his Master's aid.  He sat down on one of the seats before the alter, his eyes closing for long moments before he roused himself, gathering his strength to murmur the recall spell and casting himself through the ethor to the place he called home. 

He passed no one on his entry into the house, letting the teleporter take him down into the security of his dungeon and the bed that lay there.  He could feel the power he had carefully built in the place around him, giving him strength if he should require it, feeling the wards and traps all around like a security blanket.  Unconstiousness pulled at him and he barely had time to pull off his robe and armour before collapsing onto the waiting bed, one he had been drawn from only hours before, hours that seemed like lifetimes ago, and in some respects was.

Let the fools celebrate the retake of Trinsic as they will, for they had lost the most important battle today, one that could have made the difference in the war.  A smile touched his lips as unconsciousness finally took him.

Alaric McCree

::after he appears in his work room his mind focuses completely on the task at hand. He had given no thought at all to the woman the instant he had the scroll she was carrying he knew she would not falter nor care. Walking to his desk he lays the scroll down and picks up the crystallized heart, taken from the very woman who brought him the scroll, and places it on the top of the scroll to weight it down. His dead gaze takes in every word before slowly looking over the partial piece of a map hastily scribbled on the lower portion of the scroll:: 

"It is nearly within my grasp once again..........but which one....."

::His focus on this matter is such that he gives no reaction at all to the news that Trinsic was retaken, but then why would he care. It was of minor importance to him and the real reason he wanted the city has already arrived at his keep. A simple thought sent out to a few of his lesser minions and the defenses of Zhento City are already being upgraded. His influence over the local populace becoming apparent as some of the more important figures have joined him in the world of the undead. A grin crosses his lips as he envisions them, dead yet still doing his bidding.::

After all, isn't that the fate of all in this land?......::a dry laugh is softly heard before he returns his complete attentions to what he is studying for he knows that even though his envoy slipped past those who would wish to stop him, there are other ways to find out what he is up to but of course in his centuries long undead life, his arrogance blinds him to the fact that they may actually discover one of those ways::
Sometimes the dragon wins, that's why there is such a shortage of white knights.

Fangedwolf

So much to do, so much.  It never seemed to stop or lessen to any degree, too many things to think of, places to be, people to speak to.  Such were his days, and evenings spent, and though it was always on the go, those that saw him would only witness the cool exterior he showed to them, unruffled and seemingly unhurried.

However things were happening he had not counted on, like the meddling of Gorn's lover and her mother.  Perhaps he should have looked into Gorn's close relatives more, but so much was happening and he was only one man.  What was worse though was the weakness in the demon spirit he had used to infuse Gorn with.  A demon that had once been strong had been beaten back by the magic of the pixie queen into creating a pact with the spirit of Gorn that had somehow re-fused in the same body.

It was a mess, all of it was a mess and he was highly discontent with the entire situation.  He had been considering whether to have the man slaughtered when the decision was taken from his hands.

The call had come late at night when he had been pouring over maps, his attention so deeply involved it was only his Master's voice that called him out of it.  Ever attentive to his Master, he proceeded at once to follow the thread of that call back to its source, letting his spirit be drawn to his location through the ethor, his own voice calling Siere from his slumber to follow.  Together they appeared in Magincia, their gazes watching the face-off between his Master and the opposing forces.

Both he and Siere stood by his Masters side, little they could do but watch and wait.  He could tell his Master's anger, for it filled his senses and shivered along his skin.  The target of his displeasure was standing before them, Gorn and a selection of the opposition gathered yet helpless to do anything against his Master.  They seemed to be unwilling to attack, fearing their anger would trigger strength in the demon inside Gorn.

However it seemed the other side seemed incapable of the tranquility and peace they should hold, for they did attack, Rease casting a conflaguration potion into their midst, though it did no harm to Lord Abraxius.  He himself had dodged out the way, no outward sign he had been harmed.  However the true harm was done for the demon fed off their anger and rose to the surface in Gorn to speak with his Master.  The foolish spirit however did not know its place and its words and weakness, (for it had allowed itself to make a pact with Gorn), only angered the Dark Lord more.

In a fit of rage he watched his Lord reach into Gorns body to rip out the loathesome demon, the body of Gorn dying as Lord Abraxius' hand rent through his flesh in the process.  Feeding on the foolish demons spirit he payed little mind to the juvinille attempts on his life by the surrounding members, casting them back as easilly as one might swat a bumbling fly.

And so it was done, the demon was no more and Gorn was dead, released in death as he had not been in life.  Abraxius only laughed at the other sides foolish posturing and anger, for they had been warned that their anger would be Gorn's downfall and they had lost that battle to. 

Back at his home Najaal had spoken with Siere before his Master made an appearance, the sacred circle of power graced by his Lord's presence.  So many things to impart to his dark Master, knowlege gleaned and information collected, puzzles solved. 

Pleased with what he had managed to gather, his Master did not punish him for finding such an unworthy spirit for Gorn, but gave him a new task to complete, one which might be the most difficult yet.  Sitting alone some time after both his Master and Siere had left, he contemplated what to do.  How would he manage to do this.. he could not let his Master down.  He could Not!

With such thoughts in mind, the intelligent, but slightly haggered man sat and started to devise a plan, absently reapplying healing bandages to his burned hand.  A day or so and it would be gone, but for now the bite of Rease's potion stayed with him.