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Scuro scopo, il Preludio

    • 220 posts
    September 22, 2017 7:33 AM PDT

    This cave smells horrible, my boots are full to the ankle with water, and that was my last hunk of cheese.  Where is this cache Rolan?  You swore it was here on that little finger of yours, and I mean to collect.

    Come and take this digit if you dare ancient one.  We'll find out how many swipes of my dagger it takes to get to your sweat meats.  I predict, three.  And why don't you ask the Gnome, he bought the map?

    Your faith in that vessel amuses me sir Rolan.  I admire your tiny spirit.  But the old master would burn your eyes from your sockets midway through your first stride.  His withered frame carries a vast ocean of power.  Your tiny body would burst into red mist if that old man even farted toward you.  

    What do you know you lumbering beast?  You are here to carry the pack, and absorb arrows.

    I suggest you find your center small one.  Your anger could inspire my lust for metallurgy, and your head would make a fine anvil.

    Idiots all of you.  Old man, light the way ahead.  Enough of this courtship display.  You boys can play when the job is done.  Do not test my willingness to erase your mind and leave you here to rot in this cave.  Any of you.

    As if your will could subdue my power, harlot.  

    HARLOT!?!?! Bare arms old man, you've met your final moment!

    Silence all of you... it seems the Light, or your boasting, have not gone unnoticed.  They are upon us...

    They? What is they?  Master Gnome? Where did you buy that map?

    Fear not children of Terminus, your spirit cannot be destroyed by these creatures.  Your bodies however, may soon litter the cavern floor.  Old Master heed my words, there is a spirit among these creatures, a spirit long passed from this world.  It longs for your power.  You must not submit, even in death.  This evil cannot leave this place without your Will to defy the Light.  You must not submit.

    I will not fall so easily master Gnome.  They will need to stride past my corpse to reach the old man.

    They will have to defeat their own minds before they are even within reach of that great hammer.

    Yeah, and my daggers will find their vitals while they languish in madness...

    Old Master, get behind me.  OLD MASTER!  Can you hear me?  OLD MASTER!  His eyes... I think his mind has failed him.  This is not good.   Our enemies must be spirits.  We need vision woman, quickly.  The rest of you stick close to my lantern light.

    Foolish boys calm yourselves, the spell is nearly completed.

    You do not understand, we must kill the Wizard...  He must not survive.  Attack now while the spirit inhabits his mind, there is still time...  This is the vision we have come to fulfill.  You must not falter, everything depends on it.

    Before anyone could even think to challenge this command a burst of cold swept through the room, chilling their very bones and locking them in place.

    A slow hiss scratched across the cave walls as the Spirit Vision spell was finished, granting the companions a vision that would fill their foreseeable future nights with nightmares.  The spirits surrounding them, now hideously visible, hiss and scowl with disfigured faces that fade in and out of the ether of their form.  Snapping and biting like caged beasts at the edge of the lantern light.

    As the hiss grew louder a cold wind gathered from the darkness beyond.  It pushed between the vents of the lantern cover stifling the source of oxygen with air pressure, and rapidly dimming the flickering source of their only defense.

    The wailing screams of a spirit long tortured by eternal captivity utterly drowned out the feint whisper of the Old Master chanting his evacuation spell, and the party had no sooner braced for death in the fading flame of their very existence, than were deposited with a thud at the spire south of the city.  Covered in various sorts of dampness born both of the humid cave and the accidental release of terror from their bladders.

    All except Old Master.  And the Dark Spirits...

    Whoa, you almost died to evil spirits?  You are the king Rolan.  Nobody would ever mess with you at the pier if they knew that story!  I'll sing it at the tavern every night until the neighborhood kids give you a cool nickname like, Spirit Blade!

    Calm down, we didn't even bring back loot to prove it.  Besides Grok says those spirits are the ones in trouble.  Maybe the old man will show up and ruin the whole con.  We'd have to move again.  Rae'm disappeared and Shae hasn't spoken to me since we arrived back at the city either.  I am pretty sure the old man sacrificed himself for us, but no one would ever believe it happened let alone pay to hear me tell the story.  I have this bad feeling the story isn't over yet too.  What if someone tries to go find him?   I saw the old man looking back at me with what looked like flaming eyes but the flames were blue like ice.  Then we appeared at the spire.  It was almost more terrifying than the spirits...

    Oh I can't wait to tell this story at the show.  I am going to make a killing in tips.

    Glad you have your coins lined up but, I need to find more real work before they send thugs to collect my debt again.  I hate the docks...  Get me the tavern owner's supply order so I can beat the courier to it.  I feel like getting away from here for a while.  A full run should get me enough to pay them off without another swollen face.

    Whatever Rolan, you are always so modest.  You need to live it up.  No one has stories that good.  You're a legend and you don't even care!

    Sure I care, I just care about coins more.  I don't much feel like celebrating the old man's death either.  I don't know much about him other than we are alive because of him.   You let that magic Lute of yours tell whatever story you want.  Just as long as I get that supply order I'll agree whatever story you told is the truth.  Deal?

    Yeah deal! I already stole it for you earlier.  Here.  Go make coins while your only friend in the world is reduced to begging for handouts at the tavern.  Since I can't go on raids or come with on trade runs.

    Next time we need a Bard, you're the first lute playing layabout I'll look for.  I promise.

    Very funny Rolan, this lute does more than tell stories you know.

    Yeah, yeah.  Keep training with Grok until you can break that practice armor.  Then we'll talk.

     

    No time was wasted in his departure.  Supply order in hand, his funding problem solved and travel arrangements established.  His only impulse to travel far and south.  The cold in his bones had still not settled.  And his eager young friend was more than one could bare under the circumstances.  The old man was dead, or something else...  trapped in the darkness with that thing.  Might as well be in hell.  And the worst part, he would never even consider going back there to find the old man.  None of them would.  Whatever is left, wouldn't be worth saving.  Even Grok swore to never return or share the location, and they were friends.  One more quick stop at the market, and he was gone.

     

    I'm off at first light so I won't catch tonight's show, break your face, or whatever.

    It's break a leg, you ass.   And you better bring me back some Pie this time!  You owe me!

    Yeah, yeah.

     

    Yeah, yeah.  Hardly befitting last words to the only person who ever called themself his friend.  At least the Darkness would overlook their bond and spare the young bard as it slaughtered Grok and Shae in the night, before it continued hungrily southward in its child-like pursuit of the only thing it knew how to want.  The Darkness would come to learn just how deadly Rolan's blades could be on this night however, as his blades were treated prior to his departure with salve a traveling Shaman claimed could "pierce the Ether and return even spirits to their resting place."  An odd poison for one to have on their blades in this age.  But one he was compelled to apply.

    When the battle was done, Rolan's corpse settled with a final breath to the earth, looking up at the night sky, just as he'd always imagined.  There was no coming back from a battle like this.  Not for either of them.  The Dark Creature that had come for him had been mortally wounded.  If it was the old man, nothing recognizable remained.  The twisted black vapor that defined its form lashed out like the hidden spirits from before, only with thousands of gaping maws biting and chewing to free themselves from every inch of their new master's very body.  Its agonized screams radiated into the night as the spirit salve went to work burning away the remaining Darkness.

    As death approached itself in maddening irony, a spark of awareness returned to the cool flickering eyes bouncing loosely in barely formed ghostly sockets.  The only way to kill the special one it hungered for most was to become something the Light can never burn.  It used the last of its stolen Will, to carve a Grimoire from the skin of its fallen foe.  One born of new purpose.  To spread the Darkness to any with the Will to seek true power even if it means taking it from death itself.  This Grimoire will find its way into the hands of bandits, who will then sell the book to a passing collector of rarities.

    The Darkness that Rae'm sacrificed so many to stop, was free to harvest the Will of those bathed in Light.  It will find its way to the Gnome, and then spread to all of Terminus.  Dark Purpose will once again march toward the Light.  The forces of Balance will become its strongest ally during this vulnerable time, allowing it to mature and develop, behind the scenes.  Just beyond the edge of every shadow.  Biting and clawing for a taste of the Light.

    Rumor has it that Aradune himself might have stumbled upon the Dark Grimoire, and sought to seal it away from Terminus, only to fail once again, as the forces of Balance seek to protect the very Darkness that will eventually consume them, and with their power stolen from death, the Light itself. 

    True Power will come to all those with the Will to seek it...  Dark Power.  The pathetic Light has lost this War even before the first trumpet sounds.  The Darkness has found its Purpose.


    This post was edited by ZennExile at September 22, 2017 10:17 PM PDT
    • 624 posts
    September 22, 2017 1:58 PM PDT

    Marvelous!  Though I may personally find necromancers a bit too creepy, not to mention Jabober's odor and constant rattling - this is a terrifically crafty origin story for the force behind them.  I felt I was there with the party at the discovery, and was chilled at the ending... Bonus points for the Italian title!  Thanks ZenE, well done.  

    • 294 posts
    September 22, 2017 5:50 PM PDT

    Great read. I am thoroughly enjoying all the writing talent we have here on these boards. 

    A pleasure indeed.

    • 220 posts
    September 22, 2017 6:48 PM PDT

    Thanks for reading.  I get bored easy.

    • 220 posts
    September 30, 2017 9:12 PM PDT

    Nicely done ZennExile! 

    Anche il sole passa sopra il fango, e non s'imbratta