 Posted:
Wed Oct 06, 2010 9:29 am |
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Darkness...
The flutter of thousands of wings, the sound of claws echoing across the abyss, the smell of blood and fire...
An unnatural scream piercing a completely empty abyss, filled with terror and horrible pain.
The Kinslayer awoke startled, something had shaken him violently, the sheets on his bed soaked with cold sweat. Already the dream was fading from his memory, he grasped at it like a man holding water.
"A vision?" he asked himself, and images of burning gardens darted across his consciousness. Enormous dark wings spread across the flamelit horizon consuming the garden, and the smell of smoke and that terrible scream persisted in his mind. The dim light of dawn faintly illuminated the wall north of his bed, revealing splattered crimson markings dripping to the floor.
"The hell..." Zyghart muttered and hesitantly lumbered to the wall for a closer look.
THE TIME OF BLOODLETTING DRAWS NEAR
Zyghart quickly investigated the room for signs of intrusion, finding the bolt on his door still closed and his coin purse sitting undisturbed upon his dresser. "Rogues..." he snorted in discontent. "They warning me of something?" he thought and began dressing.
Zyghart...
A sultry voice whispered into his ear, vaguely familiar, and the elf quickly turned. "What?" he asked in disbelief at the empty room. "What is going on!" he exclaimed and quickly reached for his blades. Rapping at his window caught his attention, and Zyghart hugged the wall just outside of any potential foe's field of sight. He cautiously lifted the window halfway with the tip of his dagger and held an unholy blade of pure darkness close to his chin, waiting for some unlucky trickster to meet their demise. A faint hint of blood and smoke poured through the room with a gust of wind, and the elf barely managed to catch a glimpse of the shadow speeding across his peripheral vision.
Zyghart...
The Kinslayer stood motionless at the window, dumbfounded, and barely managed a whisper to the raven resting on his bed. "Ahandora?"
Yes, my child.
There are things I must show you.
Come...
The embodiment of the Goddess spread her wings and motioned for the elf to come closer.
Lay with me.
Spellbound, Zyghart fell upon his bed and disappeared in a shower of obsidian feathers glistening faintly blue as the dawn's light hit them. The sensation of freefall persisted for a brief moment, and soon the elf felt his feet come to a gentle thud in complete darkness. "Where am I?" he asked, contemplating if he had even awoke.
Enormous red eyes, glowing with a velvet crimson aura appeared far overhead and bathed the area in an eerily dim red light.
Behold, Kinslayer, do you recognize this place?
The Holy City stretched out before him inhabited by ghostly forms of its inhabitants going about their daily activities, oblivious to Zyghart's presence. Impossibly large black wings surrounded its borders, encircling the entire area. A shade hurried past Zyghart on some important matter, and the elf stepped aside. "The Holy City?" Zyghart asked. "What would you have me do?"
Yes child. Seek out Cutthroat Lane, find my acolyte in its underbelly.
"And what will I do when I find him?" the elf said puzzled.
Be cunning Kinslayer, you will soon face many trials. Persevere and the reward will be great.
Zyghart pondered briefly over the Goddess' words before darkness consumed the area once again as the great red eyes vanished. Whispers echoed across the emptiness, and the elf felt a hand grab his shoulder softly. He turned to see a divinely beautiful woman's porcelain face illuminated faintly by calculating and sinister crimson eyes. The Goddess embraced him passionately, the elf hesitated for but the briefest of moments in complete disbelief, and the couple fell through the abyss in a shower of raven's feathers.
Time seemed to stop, minutes turned to days, days fell into years, and the decades became millenia. A feeling of utter content washed over Zyghart, he wished to never leave this place... to never leave her side. Ahandora whispered once more into Zyghart's ear.
Be cunning, Kinslayer...
He felt the cold steel of a dagger at his throat, his scream muffled by the horrific pain of it slashing across, and Zyghart clutched fruitlessly at the wound trying to close it. The Raveness' eyes stared down at him with a macabre grin across her face as the sound of claws striking pavement echoed across the darkness. He tried, but could not muster the feeling of betrayal this surely demanded and the sound of claws grew louder. Whispers became the caw of thousands of ravens, and the Goddess vanished into the Icarri as they swarmed upon Zyghart. Unspeakable pain ravaged the elf's body as the Icarri tore through his flesh with razor sharp talons, their beaks severing his limbs. He wished for sleep, he begged to pass out.... and soon he did.
"AAAAHHHHHH!" the elf awoke with a scream. He convulsed violently, temporarily immobilized by seizure. As it faded, a sharp pain in his leg brought him to his feet. His unholy blade stuck out from his thigh at an awkward angle, and Zyghart stared up at a confident looking man wearing a large fur coat and a pair of fur trousers.
"Hello there laddy, thought we lost you there for a moment." he looked at Zyghart bewildered. "I've seen people have some strange reactions to flight, but this is by FAR the weirdest spectacle I've yet to set these old eyes upon."
"Wha... where am I?" Zyghart asked the man. "What happened?"
"You're aboard my airship, finest in all the land mind you!" the Captain chuckled and continued, "A blackbird of some sort came out of nowhere and smacked you right in the head." He shook his head, "Damnedest thing I ever did see." The Captain helped the elf to his feet as an enormous city perched atop a mountain emerged through the clouds. "Ahh... there she is, a beautiful city, never seen the like in all my years."
Zyghart gritted his teeth and yanked the blade from his leg, stifling a scream. "The Holy City..." he muttered and trailed off in thought. |
Last edited by Anonymous on Sun Oct 10, 2010 10:32 am; edited 1 time in total |
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Anonymous
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