--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[222] Nymaya: The Remnant
Wed Oct 28 18:22:06 2009
To: All New_Thalos Crelius Anastormia Naedala ( RP Necrucifer Imm )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sound of the wind coursing through the city was an ominous prelude to
the rise of the sand. It almost mirrored rain, pattering the outside of the
closed shutters and the tiled roof above. A stray breeze caught the flame
of the candles, spun the heated coals in the hearth to a burning glow and
stirred Nymaya's hair about her face.
Her attention was driven from whatever thoughts she had settled upon as she
stared into the hearth. A book held in her right hand dangled down over the
arm of the chair until, with a coiled motion, she arose from the seat she
had been lounging in and carefully set the small tome upon a bedside table.
The desert breeze beckoned her with imperceptible whispers, swirling through
the room, drawing her unerringly toward the window even as the candles
flickered violently. The silhouettes, as the faint shadows danced over the
walls, were strangely reminiscent of her thoughts and yet - there was an
encompassing calm - almost what she would have described as emptiness. She
didn't question it as she stopped before the window and slowly parted one
side of the shutter.
New Thalos was asleep at this black hour but the lights she could see
through the sandy fog winked fitfully, giving the impression that even the
desert's Jewel was not resting well. This was followed by a sense of
waiting, an underlying discernment of held breath that thrummed through her
like a tuning fork. She understood a moment later that it had more to do
with her own awareness of the situation awaiting her than the city itself.
...though she did not delude herself as to what was most certainly coming.
Acutely aware of a stirring in her soul, she held herself still, gaze set
upon the flickers of lightning in the far distance and let her mind enter
unto a silent state. It was a thing that typically happened before she
committed to combat - and into the motionless pit, she felt her fate stir.
She had no way to know what it held in store for her, but she knew what side
of the board she was on - no matter how it had come about. It seemed dark
and certain, though only hinted at by the shadows that moved behind her upon
the walls in a desert's night wind. A wind that might soon howl outside her
window with unbridled wrath, demanding the life it had nearly claimed.
An abrupt chill breath of wind sent her gaze upward and if not for her keen
elven sight, she might have missed the large shadow that swooped over the
sleeping kingdom. It took with it all but one flame within the room and
when she turned back to gaze into what passed for her quarters, she was left
staring at the sinuous motion of deepened shadows writhing along the walls,
ceiling and floor.
Drawn to that single flame, as she always had been, she left the sill to
stand beside it. Watching, mesmerized, she played her bare fingers through
it and considered that in the light of this single candle - the shadows had
grown.
A grim smile curved just a corner of her lips and with a decisive action,
she pinched the wick.
'Wish you were here, Reklah' She breathed into the sudden smothering
darkness and left the room to roam the sand-blasted streets.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks ( III )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[181] Nymaya: Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks III
Wed Aug 12 18:31:10 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was terrible agony for a long time. She might have screamed.
Perhaps she never stopped once it started but it wasn't a memory she was
intended to maintain.
Dreams rarely were.
She came awake slowly, as if from a great distance, drawing back the heavy
layers of gray that had overlain her sight. She never remembered the desert
fever, never knew who her benefactor was or how long she had been
unconscious. She simply understood that she was alive.
It was enough for now.
She was weak, exhausted, as she pushed herself up from a cot to discover
that she was in the back of a moving wagon. The jostling was enough to
prevent her from rising, even to glance out of the flaps but as she sat
there, her head bowed into her hands, she caught snippets of talk from
outside.
"..what was a Wali...so far from..city?"
"...caught in a storm, so..said."
"..miracle she survived.."
It took her some time but with an effort to push past the fog of exhaustion,
she began to remember. The storm that had trapped her in the abandoned
ruins, forced her out after weathering it for days. The mountains in the
distance...Linot's voice..a dream.
Cold suddenly, even in the exceedingly dry heat, she lay back down upon the
cot and covered herself with her white and gold trimmed cloak which had been
tucked around her previously.
She had a lot of questions, though her desire for the answers was yet
lacking.
"We're almost to the Jewel, lads."
[181] Nymaya: Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks III
Wed Aug 12 18:31:10 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was terrible agony for a long time. She might have screamed.
Perhaps she never stopped once it started but it wasn't a memory she was
intended to maintain.
Dreams rarely were.
She came awake slowly, as if from a great distance, drawing back the heavy
layers of gray that had overlain her sight. She never remembered the desert
fever, never knew who her benefactor was or how long she had been
unconscious. She simply understood that she was alive.
It was enough for now.
She was weak, exhausted, as she pushed herself up from a cot to discover
that she was in the back of a moving wagon. The jostling was enough to
prevent her from rising, even to glance out of the flaps but as she sat
there, her head bowed into her hands, she caught snippets of talk from
outside.
"..what was a Wali...so far from..city?"
"...caught in a storm, so..said."
"..miracle she survived.."
It took her some time but with an effort to push past the fog of exhaustion,
she began to remember. The storm that had trapped her in the abandoned
ruins, forced her out after weathering it for days. The mountains in the
distance...Linot's voice..a dream.
Cold suddenly, even in the exceedingly dry heat, she lay back down upon the
cot and covered herself with her white and gold trimmed cloak which had been
tucked around her previously.
She had a lot of questions, though her desire for the answers was yet
lacking.
"We're almost to the Jewel, lads."
Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks ( II )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[180] Nymaya: Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks II
Wed Aug 12 18:12:24 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A great rift split the grove in two with an incomprehensible violence and
from it wafted the sickening scent of damnation. Sulfur burned the senses,
blood threaded through it and the heat of some invisible flame licked
agonizingly along her flesh.
"A part of me believes that I deserve such a fate.."
...No part of you ever deserved this...was their punishment not
enough...
The weight of her decisions returned along with the sorrow of the figure, so
heavy that it would have bowed her shoulders, but the shadow that rose up
from the fracture in the ground surrounded her. She couldn't breathe for
the stranglehold as it grasped her throat, her heart and then, her soul.
"..not...Fatale.."
It was a gasp, little more than a breath that managed to contain partial
words.
...No, not Fatale. You embraced Necrucifer...
There was a kind of horrible resignation to the voice that was now coupled
with an acute anguish. She felt herself drawn closer to the great chasm in
the ground and knew, without a doubt, that the inexorable strength in the
shadow was going to pull her in there.
...You cannot have been meant for this path, Nymaya...
"..on it..now"
The sigh that followed was palpable as it rushed through her, around her,
following her as she willingly fell.
cont.
[180] Nymaya: Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks II
Wed Aug 12 18:12:24 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A great rift split the grove in two with an incomprehensible violence and
from it wafted the sickening scent of damnation. Sulfur burned the senses,
blood threaded through it and the heat of some invisible flame licked
agonizingly along her flesh.
"A part of me believes that I deserve such a fate.."
...No part of you ever deserved this...was their punishment not
enough...
The weight of her decisions returned along with the sorrow of the figure, so
heavy that it would have bowed her shoulders, but the shadow that rose up
from the fracture in the ground surrounded her. She couldn't breathe for
the stranglehold as it grasped her throat, her heart and then, her soul.
"..not...Fatale.."
It was a gasp, little more than a breath that managed to contain partial
words.
...No, not Fatale. You embraced Necrucifer...
There was a kind of horrible resignation to the voice that was now coupled
with an acute anguish. She felt herself drawn closer to the great chasm in
the ground and knew, without a doubt, that the inexorable strength in the
shadow was going to pull her in there.
...You cannot have been meant for this path, Nymaya...
"..on it..now"
The sigh that followed was palpable as it rushed through her, around her,
following her as she willingly fell.
cont.
Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks ( I )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[176] Nymaya: Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks I
Wed Aug 12 03:45:38 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The grove with the little pool was still and as untouched by time as it
always seemed to be. The sun was a shadow of itself, its light made misty
and dappled as it filtered through the still tree that gave its shade to the
occupants who stood below it. A gentle, warm fall of rain accompanied the
serene moment, dripping through the leafy boughs overhead.
There was no peace for her in this place. At least...not at first.
...Nymaya...
She wanted to turn away. So very badly did she want to turn away from this
but she knew it wouldn't do any good.
...You are mortal. We make mistakes...
The voice was so distant, the image of her conscience so faint and shadowy.
It drew sorrow up from the depth of her soul - for all that had passed and
all that never would.
...Accept this...and find peace...
It was the answer to her question. It seemed common sense but in the voice
of Linot - her murdered friend - it was merely a gentle revelation. Spoken
with a rueful smile, as if they were bantering at each other as usual.
She saw herself again; the lost, embittered Songkeeper...seeking the only
soul in the grove who she trusted to speak without judgment. Who would care
unconditionally even as she lectured you in wise, poetic tones about mortal
nature.
Then, a piece of one of the last memories she had had with Linot, returned
all at once.
"I am..bound by an oath."
And it began again...
"I understand this oath. It has been written upon my heart and soul."
The ghostly figure was closer now, her faded green eyes visible as they
stared beyond the feeble walls that had tried to contain these remembered
moments.
"..I have failed to teach the King the full importance of the Kyorl, this
oath and what they should mean to him and this kingdom."
How she wished the words hadn't ever been true. She had failed. Oh yes, but
not as anyone had accused her. She swallowed hard and in a small voice,
asked the apparition to stop. The ghostly form of Linot just smiled sadly.
...You were free...
"I did not want this..did not foresee...how it would tear me apart."
...Hind sight, my friend...
The tone was gently amused.
...But all is not lost. You have always had the answers...
And with that, a sweeping sense of peace finally stole through her. She had
time to close her eyes, to lift her face into the warm rain and glory in the
feel of the sun before the ground shuddered beneath her feet. She opened
her eyes to find that Linot was gone. The sense of warmth and peace
evaporated as darkness converged over the sky.
...Embrace Fatale's whispers, and the gods may grant you pain
everlasting...
Those last words whispered, haunted and empty, through the thickening
darkness and the meaning in them was not lost on her.
cont.
[176] Nymaya: Desert Trek - The Missing Weeks I
Wed Aug 12 03:45:38 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The grove with the little pool was still and as untouched by time as it
always seemed to be. The sun was a shadow of itself, its light made misty
and dappled as it filtered through the still tree that gave its shade to the
occupants who stood below it. A gentle, warm fall of rain accompanied the
serene moment, dripping through the leafy boughs overhead.
There was no peace for her in this place. At least...not at first.
...Nymaya...
She wanted to turn away. So very badly did she want to turn away from this
but she knew it wouldn't do any good.
...You are mortal. We make mistakes...
The voice was so distant, the image of her conscience so faint and shadowy.
It drew sorrow up from the depth of her soul - for all that had passed and
all that never would.
...Accept this...and find peace...
It was the answer to her question. It seemed common sense but in the voice
of Linot - her murdered friend - it was merely a gentle revelation. Spoken
with a rueful smile, as if they were bantering at each other as usual.
She saw herself again; the lost, embittered Songkeeper...seeking the only
soul in the grove who she trusted to speak without judgment. Who would care
unconditionally even as she lectured you in wise, poetic tones about mortal
nature.
Then, a piece of one of the last memories she had had with Linot, returned
all at once.
"I am..bound by an oath."
And it began again...
"I understand this oath. It has been written upon my heart and soul."
The ghostly figure was closer now, her faded green eyes visible as they
stared beyond the feeble walls that had tried to contain these remembered
moments.
"..I have failed to teach the King the full importance of the Kyorl, this
oath and what they should mean to him and this kingdom."
How she wished the words hadn't ever been true. She had failed. Oh yes, but
not as anyone had accused her. She swallowed hard and in a small voice,
asked the apparition to stop. The ghostly form of Linot just smiled sadly.
...You were free...
"I did not want this..did not foresee...how it would tear me apart."
...Hind sight, my friend...
The tone was gently amused.
...But all is not lost. You have always had the answers...
And with that, a sweeping sense of peace finally stole through her. She had
time to close her eyes, to lift her face into the warm rain and glory in the
feel of the sun before the ground shuddered beneath her feet. She opened
her eyes to find that Linot was gone. The sense of warmth and peace
evaporated as darkness converged over the sky.
...Embrace Fatale's whispers, and the gods may grant you pain
everlasting...
Those last words whispered, haunted and empty, through the thickening
darkness and the meaning in them was not lost on her.
cont.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Desert Trek - III
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[152] Nymaya: Desert Trek - III
Sat Aug 8 01:34:00 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time lost any meaning to her; the seconds, minutes and hours blending
into each other until they were indistinguishable.
She was no longer fleeing the storm that raged unchecked throughout too vast
a stretch of desert. She was running from things she had never been able to
escape. It didn't matter that she had silently vowed to change this about
herself, to face these things that caused her such torment. This wasn't the
way she wanted to meet her unspoken pain.
...They are not indefinite. Even the best of shelters become worn by the
storms...
The whispered words couldn't be ignored, though by all rights the enraged
howl of the wind should have rendered them beyond hearing. She was weaving
and stumbling dangerously now, her eyes sightless. She never noticed the
flattening of the land, nor the hardening of the ground beneath her feet.
She simply moved because to stop was to die and she had not yet found an
answer that would allow her to give up so easily.
To lie down in the desert and die when she still had the ability to live was
just as ignominious as it would have been to walk meekly to the Shalonosts to
give up her life, even though it had been forfeited by others with little
attempt to discover the truth or lie of her innocence. Liluye had been
right about her...
...Watch for those things which bring you peace, and return to them when
needed...
But what was it that would bring her peace? What was she supposed to watch
for? She realized she had asked the question aloud even as her knees struck
a hard surface. The immediate pain brought her back briefly, made her
realize that she had been foolishly talking with the deceased; the only
elven woman who put the true lie to Nymaya's existence.
...But you do need rest, even if sleep is but a temporary escape...
She couldn't afford even a temporary escape right now and sleep had
certainly never been it anyway. Some primal need drew her painstakingly up
from the ground, to stumble forward a bit farther, but it was with a
suddenness that caught her completely off guard that blackness stole through
her consciousness and she fell back to the ground - unaware of the mountains
or the shadow that loomed over her.
...Rest, Songkeeper...
cont.
[152] Nymaya: Desert Trek - III
Sat Aug 8 01:34:00 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time lost any meaning to her; the seconds, minutes and hours blending
into each other until they were indistinguishable.
She was no longer fleeing the storm that raged unchecked throughout too vast
a stretch of desert. She was running from things she had never been able to
escape. It didn't matter that she had silently vowed to change this about
herself, to face these things that caused her such torment. This wasn't the
way she wanted to meet her unspoken pain.
...They are not indefinite. Even the best of shelters become worn by the
storms...
The whispered words couldn't be ignored, though by all rights the enraged
howl of the wind should have rendered them beyond hearing. She was weaving
and stumbling dangerously now, her eyes sightless. She never noticed the
flattening of the land, nor the hardening of the ground beneath her feet.
She simply moved because to stop was to die and she had not yet found an
answer that would allow her to give up so easily.
To lie down in the desert and die when she still had the ability to live was
just as ignominious as it would have been to walk meekly to the Shalonosts to
give up her life, even though it had been forfeited by others with little
attempt to discover the truth or lie of her innocence. Liluye had been
right about her...
...Watch for those things which bring you peace, and return to them when
needed...
But what was it that would bring her peace? What was she supposed to watch
for? She realized she had asked the question aloud even as her knees struck
a hard surface. The immediate pain brought her back briefly, made her
realize that she had been foolishly talking with the deceased; the only
elven woman who put the true lie to Nymaya's existence.
...But you do need rest, even if sleep is but a temporary escape...
She couldn't afford even a temporary escape right now and sleep had
certainly never been it anyway. Some primal need drew her painstakingly up
from the ground, to stumble forward a bit farther, but it was with a
suddenness that caught her completely off guard that blackness stole through
her consciousness and she fell back to the ground - unaware of the mountains
or the shadow that loomed over her.
...Rest, Songkeeper...
cont.
Desert Trek - II
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[150] Nymaya: Desert Trek - II
Fri Aug 7 05:03:50 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was back there again, the accusations leaving her stunned. She
hadn't known what to respond with, had let herself be bullied even as she
desperately tried to understand why.
Why her pleas had gone unheard.
She shook her head suddenly, frantic to escape the past. It didn't matter
anymore! The roar of the wind returned along with the stinging sand,
scraping raw any part of her flesh that was not covered. She welcomed the
pain even as she forced her aching muscles to press against the terrible
weight of the storm again. The dune seemed to come apart beneath her though
and she was tumbled back down into the fast filling crevace between the
towering dunes.
Weary and sick of the battle, she resolved to travel as best she could along
the sides of the dunes until she could find a lowering. At least down here,
she was a little more protected from the wind.
Her eyes were watering, her vision already blurry and indistinct with a
combination of severe exhaustion and fine sand grains. The voice stopped
her in her tracks though and left her grasping for reality again. Linot.
...mine lessen by the day...
She did not want this memory. By the Gods, she did not want it! Grabing at
her head, she pushed harder against the wind, driving herself with careless
abandon. It succeeded in distracting her but she knew she was suffering
from dehydration. She was also clearly suffering from sleep deprivation and
was quite aware that it might lead to hallucinations. Sadly, the simple
knowing was not enough to escape what was coming.
-cont-
[150] Nymaya: Desert Trek - II
Fri Aug 7 05:03:50 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was back there again, the accusations leaving her stunned. She
hadn't known what to respond with, had let herself be bullied even as she
desperately tried to understand why.
Why her pleas had gone unheard.
She shook her head suddenly, frantic to escape the past. It didn't matter
anymore! The roar of the wind returned along with the stinging sand,
scraping raw any part of her flesh that was not covered. She welcomed the
pain even as she forced her aching muscles to press against the terrible
weight of the storm again. The dune seemed to come apart beneath her though
and she was tumbled back down into the fast filling crevace between the
towering dunes.
Weary and sick of the battle, she resolved to travel as best she could along
the sides of the dunes until she could find a lowering. At least down here,
she was a little more protected from the wind.
...everyone should have a refuge...
Her eyes were watering, her vision already blurry and indistinct with a
combination of severe exhaustion and fine sand grains. The voice stopped
her in her tracks though and left her grasping for reality again. Linot.
...mine lessen by the day...
She did not want this memory. By the Gods, she did not want it! Grabing at
her head, she pushed harder against the wind, driving herself with careless
abandon. It succeeded in distracting her but she knew she was suffering
from dehydration. She was also clearly suffering from sleep deprivation and
was quite aware that it might lead to hallucinations. Sadly, the simple
knowing was not enough to escape what was coming.
-cont-
Desert Trek - I
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[149] Nymaya: Desert Trek - I
Fri Aug 7 04:54:33 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( Rp )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her trek into the desert hadn't been intended to last more than a week
but the factors that often decided the course of her life had never been
easy to navigate or chart. And in this instance, she hadn't been entirely
prepared to handle the storm that had arisen upon her.
She'd clearly traveled too far from her intended destination and so, when
the giant wall of sand had descended upon her, she had barely managed to
work her exhausted way to the ruins spied in the distance. Most of the
buildings had been decimated but one had managed to withstand the awesome
force of the desert and offered four walls and a roof. It was in this place
that she weathered the blasting sands and the unending howl of the wind, so
loud that it aided her in the repression of the memories she had come out
here to work her way through.
Many days passed in this way. She hadn't thought a desert storm capable of
such extended violence but there was never any lax in the wind or the
driving sand that kept her prisoner. The drifts built up dangerously around
the window and the arched doorway before they began to pour into her
shelter, driving her back further into the dark room. It soon became
apparent that if she did not brave the dangerous weather, she might find
herself buried.
Trapped on either side with the threat of death, she resolutely wrapped
herself in her desert garb and decided to take her chances with the storm.
It was better to face death head on rather than hide in the dark, waiting
for it. The thought struck her as ironic, being that she had been accused
of doing such a thing when she'd taken the proffered sanctuary of Verminasia
over the death that had waited out in the wilds - where she had been
expected to remain in the wake of her banishment.
Old anger managed to burn alongside the drive to survive as she forced
herself into the very teeth of the wind and sand. All sense of direction
had been erased. There was no sun and little visibility during the day and
even less during the night while the storm raged, leaving her blinded and
wandering. Thirty-six hours or more had passed without a change in the
weather since she'd left shelter, leaving her on the ragged edge of
exhaustion as she forced herself past endurance. She'd begun to notice a
growing darkness on the horizon that she felt fairly certain was a low range
of mountains. It meant she was severely off course but if she could make
the mountains, her chances of survival would increase.
It was strange to be faced with death in this way, though it had previously
never failed to cross her mind. It brought forth unique and pertinent
questions that any mortal being might ask themselves. It made her wonder at
the reasons that were driving her even then to grasp at survival.
She stopped abruptly then, almost knee deep in the lee of a dune that she
had been scaling. Her lungs were burning, her muscles and limbs drawn
almost to their limit, her mind a strangely calm fog in the midst of the
roaring wind and unmerciful sands. A memory of survival triggered by her
inner question.
So long ago, she had taken the King of Shalonesti's offer of life because
death at the hands of Shalonesti for a crime she had never committed would
have been ignominious. She had given up the Song in the hopes that her
sincerity and pleas of innocence would be heeded. And in the end, she had
been lured to Verminasia when all hope had been dashed by the Matriarch and
the Queen.
It happened to be but one instance during which, she had managed to survive
against the odds.
-cont-
[149] Nymaya: Desert Trek - I
Fri Aug 7 04:54:33 2009
To: New_Thalos All ( Rp )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her trek into the desert hadn't been intended to last more than a week
but the factors that often decided the course of her life had never been
easy to navigate or chart. And in this instance, she hadn't been entirely
prepared to handle the storm that had arisen upon her.
She'd clearly traveled too far from her intended destination and so, when
the giant wall of sand had descended upon her, she had barely managed to
work her exhausted way to the ruins spied in the distance. Most of the
buildings had been decimated but one had managed to withstand the awesome
force of the desert and offered four walls and a roof. It was in this place
that she weathered the blasting sands and the unending howl of the wind, so
loud that it aided her in the repression of the memories she had come out
here to work her way through.
Many days passed in this way. She hadn't thought a desert storm capable of
such extended violence but there was never any lax in the wind or the
driving sand that kept her prisoner. The drifts built up dangerously around
the window and the arched doorway before they began to pour into her
shelter, driving her back further into the dark room. It soon became
apparent that if she did not brave the dangerous weather, she might find
herself buried.
Trapped on either side with the threat of death, she resolutely wrapped
herself in her desert garb and decided to take her chances with the storm.
It was better to face death head on rather than hide in the dark, waiting
for it. The thought struck her as ironic, being that she had been accused
of doing such a thing when she'd taken the proffered sanctuary of Verminasia
over the death that had waited out in the wilds - where she had been
expected to remain in the wake of her banishment.
Old anger managed to burn alongside the drive to survive as she forced
herself into the very teeth of the wind and sand. All sense of direction
had been erased. There was no sun and little visibility during the day and
even less during the night while the storm raged, leaving her blinded and
wandering. Thirty-six hours or more had passed without a change in the
weather since she'd left shelter, leaving her on the ragged edge of
exhaustion as she forced herself past endurance. She'd begun to notice a
growing darkness on the horizon that she felt fairly certain was a low range
of mountains. It meant she was severely off course but if she could make
the mountains, her chances of survival would increase.
It was strange to be faced with death in this way, though it had previously
never failed to cross her mind. It brought forth unique and pertinent
questions that any mortal being might ask themselves. It made her wonder at
the reasons that were driving her even then to grasp at survival.
She stopped abruptly then, almost knee deep in the lee of a dune that she
had been scaling. Her lungs were burning, her muscles and limbs drawn
almost to their limit, her mind a strangely calm fog in the midst of the
roaring wind and unmerciful sands. A memory of survival triggered by her
inner question.
So long ago, she had taken the King of Shalonesti's offer of life because
death at the hands of Shalonesti for a crime she had never committed would
have been ignominious. She had given up the Song in the hopes that her
sincerity and pleas of innocence would be heeded. And in the end, she had
been lured to Verminasia when all hope had been dashed by the Matriarch and
the Queen.
It happened to be but one instance during which, she had managed to survive
against the odds.
-cont-
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Aftermath (Kwars)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[259] Nymaya: Aftermath ( Kwars )
Tue Apr 7 11:04:47 2009
To: New_Thalos ( Imm Cayenna RP Kwars ) Fastia Baruch all
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She reflected that wars seemed to rise and fall with a surreal sensation.
The waiting, be it a day or month, feels unending and upon the fall of the
first strike all the time that passed no longer matters for what the moment
brings.
Even cloistered in the palace, the rumble of the war reached her. The
shudder of the wall, the yells beyond it as the New Thalosian forces met
with Bakali steel - it was a frustrating position she found herself within,
though its importance was not lessened in the least.
She found herself matching gazes with the archers as she walked amongst
their numbers, trying to memorize what she saw in their eyes, what their
names were and what their faces looked like. It was important that she
remember..
She was remembering, those moments and much more, as she stood to the side of the Temple's entrance. The Bakali had taken far more casualties than New Thalos but even now, days after it had all passed, the wounded were still being tended to. There were still blood stains in the sand though she knew the desert would care for itself and the ground was still littered outside the southern gate.
The very literal rumblings of what delved there still would probably be a
constant reminder for quite some time before they figured out how to
dislodge the giant worm.
She glanced into the darkened entrance of the Temple where the soft murmur
of the Masjid could be heard alongside the quiet, pained moans of wounded
soldiers. She was no healer, so she remained outside, and though the worst
had not come to pass she had made a point of viewing the horrors that had
befallen the troops, unwilling to stand back unscathed while others had
sacrificed for the kingdom she now called home.
She was not ungrateful and she gave aid where ever she was useful. There
were plenty of things that needed doing now. The work served to keep her
more busy then usual and each night she returned to her quarters, she fell
to an exhausted and blessedly dreamless sleep.
[259] Nymaya: Aftermath ( Kwars )
Tue Apr 7 11:04:47 2009
To: New_Thalos ( Imm Cayenna RP Kwars ) Fastia Baruch all
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She reflected that wars seemed to rise and fall with a surreal sensation.
The waiting, be it a day or month, feels unending and upon the fall of the
first strike all the time that passed no longer matters for what the moment
brings.
Even cloistered in the palace, the rumble of the war reached her. The
shudder of the wall, the yells beyond it as the New Thalosian forces met
with Bakali steel - it was a frustrating position she found herself within,
though its importance was not lessened in the least.
She found herself matching gazes with the archers as she walked amongst
their numbers, trying to memorize what she saw in their eyes, what their
names were and what their faces looked like. It was important that she
remember..
She was remembering, those moments and much more, as she stood to the side of the Temple's entrance. The Bakali had taken far more casualties than New Thalos but even now, days after it had all passed, the wounded were still being tended to. There were still blood stains in the sand though she knew the desert would care for itself and the ground was still littered outside the southern gate.
The very literal rumblings of what delved there still would probably be a
constant reminder for quite some time before they figured out how to
dislodge the giant worm.
She glanced into the darkened entrance of the Temple where the soft murmur
of the Masjid could be heard alongside the quiet, pained moans of wounded
soldiers. She was no healer, so she remained outside, and though the worst
had not come to pass she had made a point of viewing the horrors that had
befallen the troops, unwilling to stand back unscathed while others had
sacrificed for the kingdom she now called home.
She was not ungrateful and she gave aid where ever she was useful. There
were plenty of things that needed doing now. The work served to keep her
more busy then usual and each night she returned to her quarters, she fell
to an exhausted and blessedly dreamless sleep.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Change (II)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[377] Nymaya: Change (II)
Thu Mar 12 20:11:48 2009
To: New_Thalos Imm Fastia Baruch Tikhondrius Zsiera ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The child was beautiful.
But from the moment she saw Maerala, she could not help but feel an
uncomfortable stirring. The white hair, the big curious eyes - so much
innocence..
It had been a very, very long time since Nymaya had stood in the presence of a child and a part of her recoiled. She tried hard not to think of her own two, lost now to whatever fates they had decided for themselves, but the subject inevitably arose.
Change was dictating that she face these things, that in order to fix what
had been broken, she step back upon the path - set herself directly before
her greatest fears again. In a way, she likened herself to the toddler,
taking her first careful steps in life, only there was no great excitement.
The experience did not hold the same sort of wonders. In its place there
reigned a sluggish river of uncertainty, fear and anger, with a smattering
of hope.
She briefly reflected on the irony of this. She had never been afraid to
place herself in the path of aggression. She had faced off against
countless threats in life without hesitation but she could not seem to
confront the questions of legacy and future with solid answers.
It felt terribly frustrating and left her irritated. What she could not
seem to do for herself, she could in the name of duty, but that felt like a
cop out at best.
Bitter cold winds whipped about, snapping her cloak at her booted ankles,
bringing her back to the moment at hand. She had not been able to resist
the draw back to the icy plains, back to the barren chill of Icewall.
The spire rose in the distance, cloaked now and then by whirlwinds of snow.
She had never known this place to be calm, having had more then enough
reason to traverse its plain numerous times in the past, and it had not
changed.
Not since her first foray here - in the taloned grasp of the ancient white,
Zsiera.
Shying away from that memory, she drew her sword, the metal hissing softly
as it came out of the baldric and narrowed her gaze at the horizon even as
she put her back to the spire and continued on. She hadn't intended to
linger for longer then it took to arrange her thoughts, but night was coming
on fast and she knew that the wolves would be out in force.
[377] Nymaya: Change (II)
Thu Mar 12 20:11:48 2009
To: New_Thalos Imm Fastia Baruch Tikhondrius Zsiera ( RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The child was beautiful.
But from the moment she saw Maerala, she could not help but feel an
uncomfortable stirring. The white hair, the big curious eyes - so much
innocence..
It had been a very, very long time since Nymaya had stood in the presence of a child and a part of her recoiled. She tried hard not to think of her own two, lost now to whatever fates they had decided for themselves, but the subject inevitably arose.
Change was dictating that she face these things, that in order to fix what
had been broken, she step back upon the path - set herself directly before
her greatest fears again. In a way, she likened herself to the toddler,
taking her first careful steps in life, only there was no great excitement.
The experience did not hold the same sort of wonders. In its place there
reigned a sluggish river of uncertainty, fear and anger, with a smattering
of hope.
She briefly reflected on the irony of this. She had never been afraid to
place herself in the path of aggression. She had faced off against
countless threats in life without hesitation but she could not seem to
confront the questions of legacy and future with solid answers.
It felt terribly frustrating and left her irritated. What she could not
seem to do for herself, she could in the name of duty, but that felt like a
cop out at best.
Bitter cold winds whipped about, snapping her cloak at her booted ankles,
bringing her back to the moment at hand. She had not been able to resist
the draw back to the icy plains, back to the barren chill of Icewall.
The spire rose in the distance, cloaked now and then by whirlwinds of snow.
She had never known this place to be calm, having had more then enough
reason to traverse its plain numerous times in the past, and it had not
changed.
Not since her first foray here - in the taloned grasp of the ancient white,
Zsiera.
Shying away from that memory, she drew her sword, the metal hissing softly
as it came out of the baldric and narrowed her gaze at the horizon even as
she put her back to the spire and continued on. She hadn't intended to
linger for longer then it took to arrange her thoughts, but night was coming
on fast and she knew that the wolves would be out in force.
Arduous Progress ( Kwars )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[363] Nymaya: Arduous Progress ( Kwars )
Thu Mar 5 10:57:19 2009
To: New_Thalos ( Imm Cayenna Scorn Necrucifer RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The blessed day was murky.
The wind had lifted, driving enough tiny sand particles into the air to
cloak the day's stinging light, even if it did manage to get sand
everywhere.
Pain throbbed sharply in her temples but she ignored it with single-minded
determination as her blade met and rebounded off another, twice, in such
rapid succession that the metal sang. It was her own bloody fault she was
miserable today.
Another blade came at her from the left, aiming without fail at her side,
but she stepped forward, dodging it with a difficult twist of her body and
caught the incoming weapon with her secondary sword on the inside of the
blade. Before it could reverse and potentially slash a line up her side she
spun her blade around it with a smooth sound of metal scraping metal, and
with a quick jerk up toward herself, disarmed the sword.
The metal resounded as it flew, to lodge itself in the sand, and then she
had one opponent left. The half elven female, Araeya as she named herself,
was quick and agile, showing more human heritage though the way she moved was enough to suggest that she bore elven blood.
Nymaya fell into an easily remembered defensive stance and met the violent
rush of the frustrated half elf seconds later while grasping to her own
restrained frustration in the process. She knew that her anger, her stress,
tended to escape through this medium and even though her head was pounding, she was determined to maintain her control.
Wielding a slender serpentine dagger and a curved scimitar, the shorter
woman came in low. The sound of their blades meeting in a flurry of parries
and strikes reverberated even in the hushed space of the archery range.
Nymaya let her get close, very close, the dagger passing only inches from
vital places, before she began to force her back.
Memories of sparring with others came back to her through the pain that was
not lessening in the slightest and with a sudden burst of focused anger, she
gritted her teeth and finished the spar with a flourish that disarmed Araeya
in a series of successive, vicious strikes.
They stood motionless for a time, the tip of her sword a mere breath away
from the hollow of the half elven woman's throat, before Nymaya finally
pulled back the small elusive tendril of anger and smothered it.
"I'm sorry." She amended as she lowered her blade. "Well fought."
A round of applause ensued as Nymaya sheathed her swords and she watched with a smattering of relief as the half elf let go her own frustration and finally smiled at her comrades who were even then returning her disarmed blades. They were a good lot, these archers, even if she was harsh with them.
Biting back a sigh of chagrin at herself, she resolutely returned the salutes
her troops aimed at her and gave them a day's leave to rest, relax and visit
their families.
[363] Nymaya: Arduous Progress ( Kwars )
Thu Mar 5 10:57:19 2009
To: New_Thalos ( Imm Cayenna Scorn Necrucifer RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The blessed day was murky.
The wind had lifted, driving enough tiny sand particles into the air to
cloak the day's stinging light, even if it did manage to get sand
everywhere.
Pain throbbed sharply in her temples but she ignored it with single-minded
determination as her blade met and rebounded off another, twice, in such
rapid succession that the metal sang. It was her own bloody fault she was
miserable today.
Another blade came at her from the left, aiming without fail at her side,
but she stepped forward, dodging it with a difficult twist of her body and
caught the incoming weapon with her secondary sword on the inside of the
blade. Before it could reverse and potentially slash a line up her side she
spun her blade around it with a smooth sound of metal scraping metal, and
with a quick jerk up toward herself, disarmed the sword.
The metal resounded as it flew, to lodge itself in the sand, and then she
had one opponent left. The half elven female, Araeya as she named herself,
was quick and agile, showing more human heritage though the way she moved was enough to suggest that she bore elven blood.
Nymaya fell into an easily remembered defensive stance and met the violent
rush of the frustrated half elf seconds later while grasping to her own
restrained frustration in the process. She knew that her anger, her stress,
tended to escape through this medium and even though her head was pounding, she was determined to maintain her control.
Wielding a slender serpentine dagger and a curved scimitar, the shorter
woman came in low. The sound of their blades meeting in a flurry of parries
and strikes reverberated even in the hushed space of the archery range.
Nymaya let her get close, very close, the dagger passing only inches from
vital places, before she began to force her back.
Memories of sparring with others came back to her through the pain that was
not lessening in the slightest and with a sudden burst of focused anger, she
gritted her teeth and finished the spar with a flourish that disarmed Araeya
in a series of successive, vicious strikes.
They stood motionless for a time, the tip of her sword a mere breath away
from the hollow of the half elven woman's throat, before Nymaya finally
pulled back the small elusive tendril of anger and smothered it.
"I'm sorry." She amended as she lowered her blade. "Well fought."
A round of applause ensued as Nymaya sheathed her swords and she watched with a smattering of relief as the half elf let go her own frustration and finally smiled at her comrades who were even then returning her disarmed blades. They were a good lot, these archers, even if she was harsh with them.
Biting back a sigh of chagrin at herself, she resolutely returned the salutes
her troops aimed at her and gave them a day's leave to rest, relax and visit
their families.
Tedious Progress ( Kwars )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[335] Nymaya: Tedious Progress ( Kwars )
Fri Feb 27 03:26:33 2009
To: New_Thalos Fastia Baruch ( Imm Cayenna Scorn Kwars Necrucifer ) all Irisi
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dry heat of the day had long set into the palace and with little to
no breeze stirring the air, it had grown somewhat stagnant. She could tell
that she was dehydrating though not a bead of sweat adorned her pale brow.
It was too easily overlooked and she found herself glancing at the pitchers
that a slew of servants had delivered some time ago.
"...but if they cut us off here, we can reroute this way.."
The table before her was thick with maps, primarily of the city and the
palace in general, and surrounding the table were three of the most veteran
archers she had been able to single out.
They were each dressed in the light tunics displaying the unique crest of
New Thalos over light leather armor that would aid them with speed and
maneuverability. If it came to a battle in the palace itself, the only ones
remaining would be corpses. The rest would be on the move.
She clenched her jaw on a sigh and with a touch of annoyance, had to stop
herself from flexing her left hand. Pain spiked through her arm with each
motion and it served only to increase her agitation.
The Deacon had done her job a little too well.
"..we have to assume they will have this area before we can get to it..."
Forcing her attention back to the moment, she drew her hair back behind her
shoulder and finally reached for the goblet of water that had been drawn for
her some time ago.
"...the confines of the hallways are our greatest advantage at this point
though.."
"...they will still push us back..."
The man and wild elf continued to argue with the single half elven female
she had pulled from the ranks, but she let them each have their bit as she
sipped at the cool water. They were progressing, no matter how tedious it
happened to become when the height of day settled, and that was the point.
They had to know and prepare for every possibility, no matter how strange or far-fetched it might seem.
The Bakali had gotten this far and their abilities were not documented well
enough for her peace of mind. So, they would go over the maps and the
probabilities as often as time allowed before it ultimately ran out.
"...it will still give us time to regroup and slip through this courtyard.."
Nymaya followed the motion of the half elven woman's finger as she traced
the path she was focusing on and nodded once.
"How would you three handle that giant worm if it managed to make it to the
palace?"
The silence that greeted her told her exactly what she had suspected.
Thinning her lips, she brought the goblet up and took another sip. The
water was helping to stem her aggravation level, but she kept the leash
purposefully short with these men and women.
"I suggest you shift your focus then." She clipped out in a tone that brooked
no argument.
[335] Nymaya: Tedious Progress ( Kwars )
Fri Feb 27 03:26:33 2009
To: New_Thalos Fastia Baruch ( Imm Cayenna Scorn Kwars Necrucifer ) all Irisi
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dry heat of the day had long set into the palace and with little to
no breeze stirring the air, it had grown somewhat stagnant. She could tell
that she was dehydrating though not a bead of sweat adorned her pale brow.
It was too easily overlooked and she found herself glancing at the pitchers
that a slew of servants had delivered some time ago.
"...but if they cut us off here, we can reroute this way.."
The table before her was thick with maps, primarily of the city and the
palace in general, and surrounding the table were three of the most veteran
archers she had been able to single out.
They were each dressed in the light tunics displaying the unique crest of
New Thalos over light leather armor that would aid them with speed and
maneuverability. If it came to a battle in the palace itself, the only ones
remaining would be corpses. The rest would be on the move.
She clenched her jaw on a sigh and with a touch of annoyance, had to stop
herself from flexing her left hand. Pain spiked through her arm with each
motion and it served only to increase her agitation.
The Deacon had done her job a little too well.
"..we have to assume they will have this area before we can get to it..."
Forcing her attention back to the moment, she drew her hair back behind her
shoulder and finally reached for the goblet of water that had been drawn for
her some time ago.
"...the confines of the hallways are our greatest advantage at this point
though.."
"...they will still push us back..."
The man and wild elf continued to argue with the single half elven female
she had pulled from the ranks, but she let them each have their bit as she
sipped at the cool water. They were progressing, no matter how tedious it
happened to become when the height of day settled, and that was the point.
They had to know and prepare for every possibility, no matter how strange or far-fetched it might seem.
The Bakali had gotten this far and their abilities were not documented well
enough for her peace of mind. So, they would go over the maps and the
probabilities as often as time allowed before it ultimately ran out.
"...it will still give us time to regroup and slip through this courtyard.."
Nymaya followed the motion of the half elven woman's finger as she traced
the path she was focusing on and nodded once.
"How would you three handle that giant worm if it managed to make it to the
palace?"
The silence that greeted her told her exactly what she had suspected.
Thinning her lips, she brought the goblet up and took another sip. The
water was helping to stem her aggravation level, but she kept the leash
purposefully short with these men and women.
"I suggest you shift your focus then." She clipped out in a tone that brooked
no argument.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
What Makes Us Mortal
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nymaya: What Makes Us Mortal
To: New_Thalos Fastia Baruch Mladen Anastormia ( RP Necrucifer Imm )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'We are born to feel, Nymaya. It is what makes us mortal, and not Gods.'
The context of the words, the time in which they had been spoken by Fastia,
had leant some comfort, and even now they stood as a reminder, long after
the fact.
But the pain lingered.
She sat in the dust-swept shrine all night, staring at her left hand as she
flexed it open and closed, again and again. Her ring, the band of onyx that
had bound his vow to hers, glimmered in whatever faint light the moons and
stars shed, displaying its faint silver etching of the Kayen sigil.
Mladen had given her too much to consider, but she had asked the hard
questions - the ones that had kept her up in the night - and then she had
turned her anger on him. Perhaps it had been petty of her but she could
find no forgiveness, no gentled understanding in herself to give to the man.
Not for his deceased daughter, not for any pain or regret that might still
linger in him.
He had had a choice, even as Reklah had had a choice, even as she had had a choice.
Perhaps they had all chosen wrong.
She closed her eyes against the words, what they seemed to mean, and for
perhaps the first time since she had come to love the man, she felt a
tendril of wavering anger ignite at what Reklah Kayen had done.
"Lord, forgive me."
Nymaya: What Makes Us Mortal
To: New_Thalos Fastia Baruch Mladen Anastormia ( RP Necrucifer Imm )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'We are born to feel, Nymaya. It is what makes us mortal, and not Gods.'
The context of the words, the time in which they had been spoken by Fastia,
had leant some comfort, and even now they stood as a reminder, long after
the fact.
But the pain lingered.
She sat in the dust-swept shrine all night, staring at her left hand as she
flexed it open and closed, again and again. Her ring, the band of onyx that
had bound his vow to hers, glimmered in whatever faint light the moons and
stars shed, displaying its faint silver etching of the Kayen sigil.
Mladen had given her too much to consider, but she had asked the hard
questions - the ones that had kept her up in the night - and then she had
turned her anger on him. Perhaps it had been petty of her but she could
find no forgiveness, no gentled understanding in herself to give to the man.
Not for his deceased daughter, not for any pain or regret that might still
linger in him.
He had had a choice, even as Reklah had had a choice, even as she had had a choice.
Perhaps they had all chosen wrong.
..did he go into the arena knowing he was outmatched..
...many told him so...
She closed her eyes against the words, what they seemed to mean, and for
perhaps the first time since she had come to love the man, she felt a
tendril of wavering anger ignite at what Reklah Kayen had done.
"Lord, forgive me."
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sparring
Just a brief side track; Shadow Knight, Reklah Kayen, sparring with his wife, Nymaya Kayen, a ranger (long before his death).
Their eyes met and held; dark blue and luminous brown. From inches away
they stared at each other while bared steel held them at bay.
They had never sparred quite like this before but it brought back to her a
sense of driving youth, the energy in her soul that had taken her so far
among the elves of Shalonesti.
He was stronger but she was agile and no stranger to battle so, when he
forced her back she moved with graceful speed. He followed of course and a
series of metallic strikes rang out and echoed through the chamber as she
parried and struck back skillfully.
The training came back to her, as it always did. It wasn't something she
could entirely forget and she used as much of it as she could to advantage.
She was certain that he surpassed her, she could see it and feel it in
the speed and strength of his sword strokes, but she had been successful so
far in keeping up with him.
Too much thinking. She growled softly to herself and abruptly took the
offensive, battling him back a few steps. There was a clear look of
concentration upon his features that only deepened as their spar slowly
became more violent. He put into it as much, if not more, then she did and
there came a point when she briefly wondered if either of them would stop
before a sword pierced something vital.
At some point, the spar had become less an exercise and more like an
explosion of built up aggression. She could feel impotent frustration and
anger like a weight on her shoulders and clearly noted the shift in his
appearance as his brow creased and his gaze intensified.
There simply came a point when there was no real grace to their movements,
just an outward passion that saw them exerting brutal force against each
other with each clash of their weapons. It didn't last though. His strength,
his skill, was simply greater then hers and with efficient mastery he sent one
of her blades clattering to the ground, let fall his own blade and abruptly
grabbed her upper arms to press her none too gently against the wall.
Holding her there, gazes inches apart again, she became aware that each
labored breath she took sounded more like a feral growl. Heat rolled off
his body, only adding to her own as she shook with exertion and abruptly their lips met in a torrid kiss that lasted only seconds before he drew back and said in a winded tone. "Calm down."
He then released her just as abruptly and turned to pace away. She let her
second blade clatter to the ground along with the first and brushed her
hands over her face and back through her hair.
"I have to work on that." She whispered apologetically, to which he
answered, "We will."
Their eyes met and held; dark blue and luminous brown. From inches away
they stared at each other while bared steel held them at bay.
They had never sparred quite like this before but it brought back to her a
sense of driving youth, the energy in her soul that had taken her so far
among the elves of Shalonesti.
He was stronger but she was agile and no stranger to battle so, when he
forced her back she moved with graceful speed. He followed of course and a
series of metallic strikes rang out and echoed through the chamber as she
parried and struck back skillfully.
The training came back to her, as it always did. It wasn't something she
could entirely forget and she used as much of it as she could to advantage.
She was certain that he surpassed her, she could see it and feel it in
the speed and strength of his sword strokes, but she had been successful so
far in keeping up with him.
Too much thinking. She growled softly to herself and abruptly took the
offensive, battling him back a few steps. There was a clear look of
concentration upon his features that only deepened as their spar slowly
became more violent. He put into it as much, if not more, then she did and
there came a point when she briefly wondered if either of them would stop
before a sword pierced something vital.
At some point, the spar had become less an exercise and more like an
explosion of built up aggression. She could feel impotent frustration and
anger like a weight on her shoulders and clearly noted the shift in his
appearance as his brow creased and his gaze intensified.
There simply came a point when there was no real grace to their movements,
just an outward passion that saw them exerting brutal force against each
other with each clash of their weapons. It didn't last though. His strength,
his skill, was simply greater then hers and with efficient mastery he sent one
of her blades clattering to the ground, let fall his own blade and abruptly
grabbed her upper arms to press her none too gently against the wall.
Holding her there, gazes inches apart again, she became aware that each
labored breath she took sounded more like a feral growl. Heat rolled off
his body, only adding to her own as she shook with exertion and abruptly their lips met in a torrid kiss that lasted only seconds before he drew back and said in a winded tone. "Calm down."
He then released her just as abruptly and turned to pace away. She let her
second blade clatter to the ground along with the first and brushed her
hands over her face and back through her hair.
"I have to work on that." She whispered apologetically, to which he
answered, "We will."
No Rest on the Brink ( Kwars )
She stood to the right of the large iron gate, leaning idly against the
tower itself. The late day shadows had stretched across the sandy ground,
lending a much needed break from the dry heat that wafted up from the
ground.
The Bakali were out there in the distance, but it was beyond them that she
found her gaze settled. She had walked the paths out there time and again
to reach Storm Keep and had watched, time and again, as Reklah disappeared
into the blistering heat and sands as he returned.
An abrupt ache began to throb through her left hand at the thought,
following the line of the scar that had torn a ragged path from the palm to
mid-wrist. She had sustained the wound for Arinas Schwartz, in Necrucifer's
name. It struck her as appropriate. She had shed blood willingly for
Shalonesti to prove herself, it stood to reason that, for the duty she oft
found herself employed in, it be the same elsewhere.
She had also been an exiled elf of Shalonesti about to walk into a world
ruled by humans of the dark pantheon then. She hadn't been prepared for
that, no matter how many of them she had come to know throughout her
lifetime.
Setting the memories aside as best she could, she tore her eyes from the
dunes to gaze down at her left hand. The pain was increasing with each
throb, a thing it had never done before. It creased her brow and with
growing concern, she uncoiled her arms from across her chest and slowly
peeled her leather glove off.
...to find that the white gash of the scar had reopened.
Blood spilled down her arm and her hand, dripping from her fingers to pool
on the sand below, and pain coursed up through the rest of her arm as if the
blade were ripping its ragged path into her flesh again.
She awoke with the nails of her left hand dug painfully deep into her palm
and a dull ache coursing through each of her scars. Confusion held her in
thrall for a handful of moments before she managed to push herself up from
the bed. She hadn't bothered to dress for sleep, not with war so close on
the horizon, and she was paying the price for that now.
Sore through and through, she rubbed her right hand back along her neck and looked to the window. A gentle, cool breeze was ruffling the curtains and the faint light without told her that she'd only gotten two, maybe three hours of rest at most.
Sighing heavily, she arose, grimacing at the shallow crack along her spine
when she straightened and grabbed up her weapons and baldric.
If she wasn't going to be allowed much rest, the least she could do was make
herself useful by walking the escape routes again. She knew them
blindfolded now - but her archers could always use the refresher.
tower itself. The late day shadows had stretched across the sandy ground,
lending a much needed break from the dry heat that wafted up from the
ground.
The Bakali were out there in the distance, but it was beyond them that she
found her gaze settled. She had walked the paths out there time and again
to reach Storm Keep and had watched, time and again, as Reklah disappeared
into the blistering heat and sands as he returned.
An abrupt ache began to throb through her left hand at the thought,
following the line of the scar that had torn a ragged path from the palm to
mid-wrist. She had sustained the wound for Arinas Schwartz, in Necrucifer's
name. It struck her as appropriate. She had shed blood willingly for
Shalonesti to prove herself, it stood to reason that, for the duty she oft
found herself employed in, it be the same elsewhere.
She had also been an exiled elf of Shalonesti about to walk into a world
ruled by humans of the dark pantheon then. She hadn't been prepared for
that, no matter how many of them she had come to know throughout her
lifetime.
Setting the memories aside as best she could, she tore her eyes from the
dunes to gaze down at her left hand. The pain was increasing with each
throb, a thing it had never done before. It creased her brow and with
growing concern, she uncoiled her arms from across her chest and slowly
peeled her leather glove off.
...to find that the white gash of the scar had reopened.
Blood spilled down her arm and her hand, dripping from her fingers to pool
on the sand below, and pain coursed up through the rest of her arm as if the
blade were ripping its ragged path into her flesh again.
* * *
She awoke with the nails of her left hand dug painfully deep into her palm
and a dull ache coursing through each of her scars. Confusion held her in
thrall for a handful of moments before she managed to push herself up from
the bed. She hadn't bothered to dress for sleep, not with war so close on
the horizon, and she was paying the price for that now.
Sore through and through, she rubbed her right hand back along her neck and looked to the window. A gentle, cool breeze was ruffling the curtains and the faint light without told her that she'd only gotten two, maybe three hours of rest at most.
Sighing heavily, she arose, grimacing at the shallow crack along her spine
when she straightened and grabbed up her weapons and baldric.
If she wasn't going to be allowed much rest, the least she could do was make
herself useful by walking the escape routes again. She knew them
blindfolded now - but her archers could always use the refresher.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
One Duty ( Kwars )
Perhaps they knew her name.
Perhaps they knew some reputation she may have gleaned during her tenure in Shalonesti, in Verminasia.
Or perhaps someone had told them who she had been and what she had become, for when she stepped up to the line of archers, all dressed and arrayed in armor befitting New Thalosian troops, not one held her gaze. Not one moved beyond what it took to breathe air into their lungs and expel it.
There was a time when she might have been chastened by such behavior, set
aback even, but the storm was coming and fear was her ally. Leniency had
proven a tactic to be used sparingly and in her case, had led to the most
profound betrayal she couldn't have conceived of.
There would be no mercy for any of these men and women if they failed. She
had one duty; to protect the royal family. Their failure would be her
failure - and that was unacceptable.
She did little more then walk through their tight formation, taking in their
armor, their expressions. She spoke no words, she told them at a glance
what her intentions were, what they were there to do until she deemed
otherwise.
And when she was certain that the tension had strung itself tight enough to
break, she stopped at the head of the columns to face the men and women of
the Fourth Thalosian Archers.
"You have one duty." She said in a quiet tone, devoid of any warmth,
gazing hard over the archers before her. "One. Duty. Tell me what it is."
"To protect the royal family."
The cacophony of their voices rising together to proclaim the only thing she
had asked to hear, was pleasing.
"Good." She whispered softly, falling silent in the wake of remembered
words she had already spoken to the Sultana.
..I won't fail you..
Tilting her head back to gaze up at the night's canopy and the myriad stars
that dotted the sky like tiny diamonds, she could only pray that she was
truly up to the task. That these men and women could take their task as
seriously as they needed to, should the worst befall the Desert Jewel.
'Lord...let it be so.'
Perhaps they knew some reputation she may have gleaned during her tenure in Shalonesti, in Verminasia.
Or perhaps someone had told them who she had been and what she had become, for when she stepped up to the line of archers, all dressed and arrayed in armor befitting New Thalosian troops, not one held her gaze. Not one moved beyond what it took to breathe air into their lungs and expel it.
There was a time when she might have been chastened by such behavior, set
aback even, but the storm was coming and fear was her ally. Leniency had
proven a tactic to be used sparingly and in her case, had led to the most
profound betrayal she couldn't have conceived of.
There would be no mercy for any of these men and women if they failed. She
had one duty; to protect the royal family. Their failure would be her
failure - and that was unacceptable.
She did little more then walk through their tight formation, taking in their
armor, their expressions. She spoke no words, she told them at a glance
what her intentions were, what they were there to do until she deemed
otherwise.
And when she was certain that the tension had strung itself tight enough to
break, she stopped at the head of the columns to face the men and women of
the Fourth Thalosian Archers.
"You have one duty." She said in a quiet tone, devoid of any warmth,
gazing hard over the archers before her. "One. Duty. Tell me what it is."
"To protect the royal family."
The cacophony of their voices rising together to proclaim the only thing she
had asked to hear, was pleasing.
"Good." She whispered softly, falling silent in the wake of remembered
words she had already spoken to the Sultana.
..I won't fail you..
Tilting her head back to gaze up at the night's canopy and the myriad stars
that dotted the sky like tiny diamonds, she could only pray that she was
truly up to the task. That these men and women could take their task as
seriously as they needed to, should the worst befall the Desert Jewel.
'Lord...let it be so.'
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Dissonance
The chessboard was crystal and set on either side with clear and white frosted pieces. The board itself mirrored the crystal of its pieces and sat upon a pedestal of black and white, stark and clearly out of place in the middle of the sands that stretched for countless miles in either direction.
So bright was the sun that she could barely see beyond the chess board. It became the focal point of her world and she approached it with all the uncertainty that had long ago taken over who she was, that had smothered who she had been.
She looked to the frosted pieces, but she knew that that was not her side of the board. Not anymore.
She looked to the clear pieces and found the direction she desired, but her gaze inevitably turned to the center of the board. No move had yet been made, the pawns lined up pristine and waiting upon their individual squares. It seemed right that it be thus, though she could remember the last time she had seen this chessboard.
The pieces had been lying upon the ground, scattered in an apparent rage.
She blinked, her eyes stinging in the light, and beheld again the chessboard as it sat before her, its pieces arrayed and prepared for battle. She reached forward, impulsively, for the clear Knight nearest her but when her fingers closed on nothing she drew her hand back.
There was no clear Knight.
...though the opposing white Knight had drawn forward, to sit alone in the middle of the board.
She awoke with a start, though it did not hold the same sort of violence that accompanied her typical nightmares. She had long gotten used to them, used to waking in such a manner, though it never became any easier to find herself alone at such times.
The difference, this time, seemed to lie in the air.
The desert was there, dry and warm, instead of the empty hallways. There was no rain pattering upon her window, no forest scent, and though the chill that had long ago set its claws in her remained an ever present sensation, she dared to hope that the desert might help banish it. That it might return color and life to her world.
She slid from the bed and padded across the room, grabbing up a light robe to drape around herself as she did so, and listened at the window without surprise to the sounds of a kingdom at war - even in the dead of night.
It was one thing to witness it in Verminasia, the dark city never seemed to sleep even when war was not on the horizon, but in New Thalos, it struck her as out of place.
A dissonance in paradise.
It was no wonder she was dreaming of chessboards, though the connotations of her dream left her feeling restless.
So bright was the sun that she could barely see beyond the chess board. It became the focal point of her world and she approached it with all the uncertainty that had long ago taken over who she was, that had smothered who she had been.
She looked to the frosted pieces, but she knew that that was not her side of the board. Not anymore.
She looked to the clear pieces and found the direction she desired, but her gaze inevitably turned to the center of the board. No move had yet been made, the pawns lined up pristine and waiting upon their individual squares. It seemed right that it be thus, though she could remember the last time she had seen this chessboard.
The pieces had been lying upon the ground, scattered in an apparent rage.
She blinked, her eyes stinging in the light, and beheld again the chessboard as it sat before her, its pieces arrayed and prepared for battle. She reached forward, impulsively, for the clear Knight nearest her but when her fingers closed on nothing she drew her hand back.
There was no clear Knight.
...though the opposing white Knight had drawn forward, to sit alone in the middle of the board.
* * *
She awoke with a start, though it did not hold the same sort of violence that accompanied her typical nightmares. She had long gotten used to them, used to waking in such a manner, though it never became any easier to find herself alone at such times.
The difference, this time, seemed to lie in the air.
The desert was there, dry and warm, instead of the empty hallways. There was no rain pattering upon her window, no forest scent, and though the chill that had long ago set its claws in her remained an ever present sensation, she dared to hope that the desert might help banish it. That it might return color and life to her world.
She slid from the bed and padded across the room, grabbing up a light robe to drape around herself as she did so, and listened at the window without surprise to the sounds of a kingdom at war - even in the dead of night.
It was one thing to witness it in Verminasia, the dark city never seemed to sleep even when war was not on the horizon, but in New Thalos, it struck her as out of place.
A dissonance in paradise.
It was no wonder she was dreaming of chessboards, though the connotations of her dream left her feeling restless.
Change
The creak of rough leather being crushed and stretched was a soft counterpart to the low crackle of a fire and the patter of rain against a window pane.
Nymaya sat hunched upon the edge of her window seat, the soggy lands of Iagothal stretching out in a mist-shrouded view from beyond the clear glass, slowly flexing her hand around the frayed remnants of her glove. The leather had lasted a good long while but, like to everything in her life of late, it needed to change. She needed new gloves, she needed new armor. New weapons, new everything.
She closed her blue gaze to the sight before slowly peeling the gloves off and casually tossing them into the hearth that blazed off to her right. Her hair was a curtain of silver that veiled her face as she lowered her head to run her hand back through the straight strands, so many questions racing through her mind.
There were only three people in all the world who had answers for her, and two of them were dead. The third, and she gave this one great consideration, would have what she was seeking but she could admit to herself that she feared the answer. There were not many people left who understood her so well...
"Countess."
The voice was soft, just this side of timid, and she lifted her head to affix the servant with a questioning gaze. A delicate hand held a fluted glass of deep red wine out to her. It was not a normal occurrence and red wine had never been her drink of choice. Against all this, she found herself reaching out to take the thin crystal stem.
The servant took hold of her black skirts and, after a practiced curtsy, departed the room. Nymaya watched her long black hair disappear around the door to the parlor and upon her first sip of the dry-tasting liquid, the soft notes of a piano drifted to her from down the hall.
She had never touched the expensive, beautiful instrument - and should have been angry that one of her staff would so boldly do so without permission - but she couldn't be angry at the grace she heard in the melody. At the depth of heartache and power that rose and fell with the flow of the music.
Turning away from the door, she set her faraway gaze on the sodden land outside the window while balancing the wine glass on her knee, and touched her fingers to the cooled glass, feeling the weight of her wedding band. Shewould find the burial site of her husband first, all else could wait.
Nymaya sat hunched upon the edge of her window seat, the soggy lands of Iagothal stretching out in a mist-shrouded view from beyond the clear glass, slowly flexing her hand around the frayed remnants of her glove. The leather had lasted a good long while but, like to everything in her life of late, it needed to change. She needed new gloves, she needed new armor. New weapons, new everything.
She closed her blue gaze to the sight before slowly peeling the gloves off and casually tossing them into the hearth that blazed off to her right. Her hair was a curtain of silver that veiled her face as she lowered her head to run her hand back through the straight strands, so many questions racing through her mind.
There were only three people in all the world who had answers for her, and two of them were dead. The third, and she gave this one great consideration, would have what she was seeking but she could admit to herself that she feared the answer. There were not many people left who understood her so well...
"Countess."
The voice was soft, just this side of timid, and she lifted her head to affix the servant with a questioning gaze. A delicate hand held a fluted glass of deep red wine out to her. It was not a normal occurrence and red wine had never been her drink of choice. Against all this, she found herself reaching out to take the thin crystal stem.
The servant took hold of her black skirts and, after a practiced curtsy, departed the room. Nymaya watched her long black hair disappear around the door to the parlor and upon her first sip of the dry-tasting liquid, the soft notes of a piano drifted to her from down the hall.
She had never touched the expensive, beautiful instrument - and should have been angry that one of her staff would so boldly do so without permission - but she couldn't be angry at the grace she heard in the melody. At the depth of heartache and power that rose and fell with the flow of the music.
Turning away from the door, she set her faraway gaze on the sodden land outside the window while balancing the wine glass on her knee, and touched her fingers to the cooled glass, feeling the weight of her wedding band. Shewould find the burial site of her husband first, all else could wait.
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