Journal Posts

Tag: vignette

The Skull Card
"What does that mean?" Pelias asked, staring at the skull-faced tarot card. At once a thousand souls shrieked in anger. "You chose...poorly", Valindra chuckled, as she drew up a circle of protection. Shadows along the walls elongated and had begun to move freely from their corporeal counterparts. Ebaark readied his morningstar. Still more shadows stirred. William looked at his shadowblades, uncertain of their effectiveness. The shadows took form...

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Eventually, Every Job Becomes Work
Once alone, Jubal continued speaking with William, "I must admit, William, I did not think you would fall in with them so eagerly. You were always a bit of a loner. I think it is good you have found like-minded individuals. Without friends, well, one becomes too focused, I think." Jubal chuckled as he finished his wine, "Ahh, nevermind, that's just the drink talking."

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, the job... I have two orders, actually. The first regards Dagult Theronall. Certain...agreements have been made. The hawkmasks will no longer interfere with the Lord of Sanctuary. Rather, for the time, we will support him in his endeavors." Jubal studied William's face for a reaction, then continued, "Second. A hit is required to secure our agreement. A Sanctuary watchman, Nygel Tunfel. He continues to voice his opinions against Theronall and regularly raises support amongst other citizens. I believe you have knowledge of this man? His death should be quick and public, though not as a hawkmask. Our support of Theronall must remain silent." Jubal stood and turned toward the door, "You have your orders, William."
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A Personal Apology
Toram was not finished with apologies. Once wounds were healed, the leader of the eastwatch took Helge aside for a more personal request of forgiveness.

"Helge, I owe you more than words. Not only have you restored the Son's leader and began healing the rift between them and the Eastwatch, but you also returned Cymril to me. I have sinned against everything we believe in, for I doubted a brother's words. That will not happen again. There is no apology I can give that would be worth your time to listen, and even less that you should consider forgiving. But know this... I swear on my dead relatives - and even on the ones who are not feeling too good - I am your man forever!"

With that said, Toram turns to a ranger and nods. The ranger produces a carpet with something rolled inside. Toram unwrapped the carpet and produced what appeared to be a bow, though it had been severely burned at one point. "Legend tells of one of our greatest rangers and the story of this bow. It felled a mighty Wyvern in one shot. The blood of the vile Rathamon was spilled with arrows fired from this bow. Dragonsbane is who we aspire to be. When word of his death reached the rangers, many were dispatched to find and recover his bow. It was found on an isle just west of Azuria, blackened and burned." Toram handed the bow to Helge before continuing, "It still carries the fire of Dragonsbane's resolve. I give this bow to you and so name you Fyre, for you have within you the fiery resolve of Dragonsbane."



The heat of the bow scars and burns the arms of Helge-now called Fyre. Yet no pain is felt, as he is master of this mighty weapon.
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Locus
...Consciousness comes to you in an instant. What was nothing is now something again. That something is pure psychic energy given no physical form. It screams as the tower crumbles around it, but it feels no pain from the crushing rocks.

It has no physical body to feel pain.

As the chasm falls, its friends make their escape. It cries out for help, but no voice is heard in a vacuum. It has been forever that since it was denied physical form...

...What seems like an eternity passes while it wanders throughout limbo. It is strange to have no senses, and yet have them all. Smell, taste, touch, sight, hearing all around its being. As euphoric as the sensation is, it longs for a physical body...

...As it becomes more comfortable in the void, it finds it is possible to move from place to place... for a time. Something keeps it drawn to the chasm, however. On one particular venture, it came across a meditating Pelias. Screams were heard during his focused state, but it took too much effort and it was pulled back to the chasm before it could communicate any further...

...It then realized the futility of existence. Trapped between life and death, much like that of its dark mistress. It existed but could not be. The painful truth of limbo sent a shock through its very essence as it howled into the abyss. All at once it was calmed. The truth.

That is not dead which can eternal lie
And with strange aeons even death may die

The Raven Queen was not dead, and she was not alive. Her existence mirrored its own. A being both dead and alive. And if Clariburnus attempted to resurrect the dark mistress, the balance would be destroyed, once again...

...Only it could stop the Night Lord. By focusing intently on a broken shard of smokey quartz, it were able to draw out other pieces of the crystal from within the chasm. The crystals liquified and melded together, becoming larger,
until you could form a hand.

You continued this process until a body was formed. It looked in all ways as Locus before his first death. No longer was there a scarred and broken face. Rather, in its place was a flawless smokey quartz sculpture. In the forehead was the Raven Queen's symbol, made out of that piece of tiger's eye you once held.

As you entered the body, thought became physical motion. It was not your body, yet you could experience things as if it was. Your joy broke your concentration and the body shattered into a million pieces of crystal... This was going to take some time.

After numerous trials and failures, you were able to sustain the body for an extended period of time. Movement became easier, and you found that because your scythe had been joined with the ice and quartz crystals, you could sense it beneath the rubble. It was not impossible to draw it forth.

Finally, it was time to attempt a climb out of the chasm. As you slowly made your way upward, however, your new senses picked up on something...something dormant. The music. The symphony of madness was not yet destroyed. Deeper than the chasm was something ancient...something primal. The sovereignty was down there. Your crystalline face smiled. They were not aware of your presence, and could not know that you were aware of theirs.

All you need now are some clothes.

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Flashback: Locus
He awoke in a strange room. A room without windows or light. Wincing in pain as he tried to get up from the bed, he found he was not alone. "That will do you no good, Locus. You suffered grave wounds. Please lay back down, for I am not finished with you." Locus? That name meant nothing to him, but he found he could not speak. His jaw was broken and his face heavily scarred. The soft voice spoke again, "They have lost their way, you know. In ignorance, they believed she abandoned them. But that was folly." The young woman stepped into view. Her features were soft; that of a young girl, maybe fifteen years of age. Raven hair dropped slightly over her eyes...strange eyes he thought, cloudy and lacking pupils. She continued, "In her years since the silence, she has sought a champion; someone who could be her locus. That person is you." The young woman finished nursing his wounds and left him to sleep.

And in that sleep, he was reminded of how he came to be in the strange room without windows or light. Clariburnus. The shade lord stood between him and freedom. If you wish to leave, the door is that way. Were it only that simple. He turned, and felt the cold sting of Soulless enter his back. His reaction was too slow. Clariburnus' strikes were too fast...too precise. The final blow was a strike to his jaw, tearing through muscle and bone. All was going dark. His ears rung with the sound of... of...

Ravens.
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Tags: Locus , Vignette