<font color="skyblue">THE MOUNTAIN

~She stares into the gem, and swirling mists of colors can be seen. Soon it clears, and shows a little girl on the side of a mountain........she moves a rock and......~"NOOOOOOOOOOO............"She falls to her knees, still gripping the sword.....She slowly shakes her head back and forth, not believing what she is seeing, but finally with a sigh of resignation, she looks to the sky and whispers, "am FAY'RE a' sgaoileadh! Am nas deireannaiche na h-othaile deon an drasda tachair........Ach cno car airson greis.......Am FAY'RE na h-iomagainean, an siud dochas!!!!"........<font color="yellow">(translation: The Fay're is loose! The last confrontation will now happen....But not now, not for awhile........The Fay're is distracted...There is HOPE!!!!!)</font> She smiles with hope now, where fear would have been but a mere three days ago..........she stands and waits for Cyril.............her eyes glowing softly watching him.........</font>

[ 02-27-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

The urgency in her voice awakens him. Instinctively his hand reaches for the axe and he smiles in spite of himself at his disorientation at not finding it. “Sof’ya,” he says turning in the direction of her movement. His voice still heavy with the speech of the ancient dialect, he stops speaking incapable for the moment of uttering a syllable in the common tongue of these lands. He moves with a calm swiftness to dress and equip himself attentive to the stirrings of the wind as he does so. Certain that the threat she perceives is nowhere close at hand he turns to her in time to see the vestiges of a relieved smile on her face. Her movements and breathing have told him much, and a wind is gathering around him, but he will wait for her to speak .....

[ 02-28-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

Neb gets to his feet and picks up his blade, then sheathes it. He looks around, his body feeling lighter, stronger, his mind filled once more with energy and no sign of the psychic fatigue he'd felt not long ago.

Then he remembers.... Vengeance.... He prepares to leave the Tavern in search of Cyril and KayLisa.

<font color="skyblue"> She releases the sword, and carefully sheaths it, and starts grabbing her clothes. As she dresses, she keeps silent, gathering her thoughts and watching Cyril watch her dress. She can't keep the hint of a smile from her lips, and her eyes start glowing a brilliant purple. ~no time for that now, keep your mind to the task ~ She laughs quietly to herself.

As she pulls on her boots, she looks up at him and grins. "Did you sleep well? " She finishes, and stands up, strapping on her sword, belt, and various weapons that had remained unseen till now. She lifts her staff, and lays it against her as she starts to pull on her gloves. She hesitates, then runs one hand down his cheek. She kisses him lightly, then dons the glove. "I wanted to touch you once more without the feel of these gloves."

Her demeanor changes slightly, and she looks at him. "Shadowhound and Maria are in trouble. And a child has found one of the ley's to the curse. I will explain the rest on the way back, but know this.....Our curses are now tied together, and know of each other. The pattern has changed, and I can't foresee what will become of this, but I now have hope.............". She takes his hand, and smiles at him...................</font>

[ 02-28-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color="lime">"Free.........................."the word
floats along the wind, turning into thousands of whispers.........~The Fay're looks south, towards the town, then East to the forest....
"It is time.................."

~She raises a hand, and a shimmering wall of air forms in front of her. She grins evilly, and steps thru, disappearing to ............. return, soon...very soon now that she is free..................~</font>

Neb steps out of the door, the Valkyrie in his hand and vengeance in his mind, he surrenders himself to the Dead Wind and lets it guide him to KayLisa.

ooc: Neb -- sent you another PM -- the Dead Wind will most likely seek to send you elsewhere ....

I have to dash off to meetings so I probably won't be back online until after you've gone to sleep.

Neb could feel the wind sending him elsewhere than KayLisa's location however, he didn't mind, he would spread death for his new master, and look forward to his vengeance....

He headed away from the Tavern, striding across the land quickly, his own psionic powers warping distances and the Wind which suffused his body granting him great strength and stamina.

Within a few hours he found himself on a hill overlooking a small town, a voice in his head urged him to go down there, he could see children at play and adults working, an evil grin spread across his face as he walked down the hill towards them.

“Sof .... Kay .... Lis .... ya,” his tongue stumbles over her name as the syllables of common reimpose themselves in his speaking. He smiles at her laugh, but his eyes grow quickly serious. “That the patterns have changed is very much in our favor,” he says, “That which stands against us must learn to adapt even as we must ..... and that is not the easiest of things to do for that which is ancient and proud.” He pauses again, his hand turning her face that he might see her eyes. “But, make no mistake,” he says, “it is not our curses that are intertwined, but our lives, and our lives are much more than the sum of our curses.” He kisses her gently beside the rune on her forehead and walks with her to the edge of the rocky point extending from the hilltop. The winds that had been so quietly enfolding them suddenly burst into gusting movement. He steps out into the embrace of the wind. His voice low and gentle he speaks to her again, “Surrender your movements – the wind will not be controlled – learn to feel the movements of the wind.” Still holding her hand, he moves so that she is at arm's length from him, and invites her to step out into the open sky.

<font color=silver>ooc: TAO -- She'll only be able to move a short while like this, but it's a start. The trip will be long enough for KayLisa to fill Cyril in on what she knows, and will provide him a chance to see what information the winds will bear to him. Unless, your post indicates otherwise, the two of them will arrive on the roof of the tavern.</font>

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

Shadowhound stumbles through the woods, "what the hell is going on in there? Help Help" then deciding that it would probably be smarter to be quiet he shuts up.

THE TAVERN

<font color=skyblue>The Dead Wind</font>

<font color=silver>To Neb: Such a willing servant this one! Yes, go. Go and sow fear in your passing. Yes, so new this world with its exotic emotions – we shall teach it new forms of terror, you and I. O yes! And we shall savor them all .....

But, what is this? ..... Ah! Another awakens. Another hunger lives in this place ..... Truly there is no end to its surprises! We must speak this other and I .....</font>

<font color=skyblue>Brushing against the unconscious bodies of the few left alive in the tavern, the shifting currents of the Wind move upward to the second floor of the building and leave through destroyed wall.</font>


<font color=white>Bartleby</font>

<font color=teal>Some time after the Wind leaves, he regains consciousness still trembling. Vague whisperings still speak in the corners of his mind and there is a strange burning in his lungs. He slowly rises to his feet only to fall weeping to his knees as his eyes take in the death and madness left in the Wind’s passing. “‘Tis everywhere I look! ‘Tis everyone! What ..... what kind of a blasphemous, horrible .....?” Words fail. Thought fails. There is only a hoarse and broken sobbing.</font>

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

Neb leans sits on the once green but now blackened grass of the small hill overlooking the town, enjoying the screams of adults and children alike that come up to him from below.

He'd entered the place earlier and had spread the Dead Wind's essence in addition to a bit of random murder, now the inhabitants were busily killing each other, going mad and getting killed by the pair of Abishai he'd gated in from Baator.

He had no control over the two creatures, so he'd decided to leave and let them enjoy themselves while the Wind fed off of the pain and fear.

Something caught his eye, the glint of light on metal, he turned his gaze left and saw a group of people, he sharpened his vision with his Psionics, adventurers it seemed, intent on vanquishing the demons and freeing the town, apparently thinking them the cause of the fear and madness.

Neb smiled evilly as he picked up the Valkyrie and headed for the town, once they entered he'd break down their mental defenses and leave them at the mercy of the Wind, more victims to feed it's hunger for Fear, more victims to feed his bloodlust.

THE TAVERN

<font color=skyblue>Bartleby

Hearing movement he looks up in time to see two of the patrons struggling to their feet. They are barely able to stand and meet his look with vacant stares. They stumble through the door wander into the rain. The tavern is silent except for his own movements and the labored breathing of the others – there are, it seems, only two others left alive here besides himself and Maria. She is lying very still and for a moment he feared her dead. Her breathing is shallow and her skin cold but she is alive. Slowly and with great care he lifts her into his arms and carries her through the kitchen to his own small room in the back. “Ach! She’s the strongest person I know, but I can’t be lettin’ her be seein’ all of this .... not with her havin’ those little ones to be raisin’. T’ain’t right this happenin’ to her, it just ain’t right.” He gently places her on his own bed, and returns to the bar.</font>

<font color="skyblue">She smiles, and steps out, grabbing his other hand, more out of comfort, then balance and slips her arms around his waist......"I will tell you what I can of my curse, and how I came to be at the tavern........." Her eyes glow, this new purple color now tinged with the amber and silver glow of ages before, and she looks off into the distance, her mind taking her back as she starts to speak, her voice sounding as though it is coming from a great distance, and reliving every moment in time as she tells it...........~</font>

OOC: later this evening, i will post her story, it will probably be in two or three segments, *L* :D i'm still writing and editing it, and btw ya'll, if you pay attention to my posts, you will learn R/L information about runes, herbs, and some ancient Scottish/Irish Gaelic. That is part of my ancestry, and my character is alot like me in some ways. [img]graemlins/wink10.gif[/img] Although I have yet to cast fire or anything *LMAO* [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img] .....j/k but seriously, I do have alot of R/L knowledge about runes and herbs, so if your interested......keep reading

Cyril - I will be sending you via a pm the WHOLE story, but it will be after I post, probably Sunday. I will hint at the similarities between the Fay're and the Wind, but in the pm I will tell you more.... :D btw Cyril, you are only 6 posts from becoming the big veined dude *LMFAO*

(because she is having a blonde day, see below *LOL*)

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">As they ride the wind, she begins her tale....

"It begins on the day it was found that I am more than just a shapeshifting Druid. The wolf is not only my familiar, but also a part of me, going back in my family for centuries. When this was recognized, it was also found that I could wield weapons of metal, and use my powers together. This is very rare among Druids. I was not recognized as human any longer, but something else, something.."

She hesitates here, for good reason, because she cannot tell him the name they bestowed upon her. If only they had known what this naming
would cause and the curse it would invoke. "Do you remember a few days ago when you first handed me the locket? When I raised it above my palm, and I was struck with the vision of a silver wolf dying? That wolf was like a mother to me. She had been near me for 150 years, not a normal wolf. The smoke and fire I saw in that vision sent to me I now know was my home. It has been destroyed. One of the visions I had during the trance I now know was my home. Now destroyed.
Something has set the Dragons loose again. The curse. The bloody curse...."

She shakes her head, and sighs. "But I take you off track. I....I..." She takes strength from his hands and continues..."I told you my true name..GreyWolf (liath madadh-allaidh), but that is not what they named me that day. I was out with my wolf-pack, Siruis, doing some Ranger work on the outskirts of a village near the Capital of Ariandor. There in the forest I came upon a group of "people", around a fire. I stood silently, waving the wolves down, watching
carefully. They were trying to raise the Goddess Fay're. What I did not realize at that time, was they had a child, a girl-child, who could channel. Channel the evil side of the "ONE". I thought they were to sacrifice the child. So I waited until they slept, and snuck in, wrapping the child in a blanket, and hurrying back to the Citadel quarters of the Druid Foundation.

The wolves tried to warn me, I know that now, but I refused to believe a child would be so evil. I took her into the garden, (one of many) and called to my brothers and sisters to come................. thats when everything went wrong, and my life changed forever........"....Here she stops for a moment, the tears brimming her eyes, intensifying the purple/silver glow there.

She reaches up with a gloved hand, but stops...instead letting the tears flow, letting the hurt out, and ridding herself of the last vestige of fear and madness. Letting the tears carry it away into the wind, leaving behind the strong resolve of her spirit and hope, and.. him.......She continues slowly..............</font>

<font color="skyblue">As they ride the wind, she continues her tale....

"My first clue something was wrong was the child. She sat up from where I had laid her, and reached back without looking. She gave me a smile so evil, the wolves who were sending me messages at the time, howled in pain, fleeing my mind quickly. Reaching back she touched the "nan tursachan" behind her.

The sign carved into it glowed, and one of the "a' treigsinn" started to appear slowly directly behind her, and merged with her, the only sign it had happened was her eyes..........oh her eyes, blood-red as the rest of her face disappeared, becoming smooth. She stood, now 7 feet tall, truly one of the "a' treigsinn". I knew I had no weapons upon myself to fight such an evil being, and fled to the next garden, where the "nan tursachan" for
the mighty wizard "Glandish" stood.

Among my people this stone was NEVER to be touched, it was a symbol of what can happen if you try to control the power instead of letting it flow thru you, and allowing it to help you. Of what would happen, if you got greedy, and tried to draw too much, for the wrong reasons.

So I did the one thing that would set me on my path and what would get myself cursed, not realizing that at the time, only concerned with the fact I had invited "a' treigsinn" into a haven, a safe place, and if it ever left the garden, such destruction to all the innocents would be my fault...."

She pauses again, looking at him from the corner of her eye, trying to judge his reaction to this.......She sighs, and continues once
again........</font>

**a' treigsinn - (one of the forsaken)
**nan tursachan - (one of the sacred standing stones)

<font color="skyblue">and the Conclusion of her tale..........


"I reached up, and touched the sign for the wizard, the one cursed to become this stone, the one who had gotten too greedy, thinking himself mightier than the gods.........." "As I touched the sign, the rock began to vibrate, the ground shaking, knocking me to my knees as if in obeyance to the stone. I looked up and the rock slowly fell apart, revealing the wizard, frozen, holding an ancient sword. One of the soul-reavers, the "aignean a' chlaidheimh" of
legend, the "SpiritSword".

Without thinking of myself, only the others inside the walls of the Foundation, I reached up and took hold of the sword. Immediately
the ground quit shaking, and for one brief second, the wizards eyes flared, and a message burned into my brain, knocking me to my knees, the sword clutched in both hands, my hands on fire. The Wizard stated the following to me...................

"This omen I give you, this sword is now yours to use, and cure.. The marks now put on your hands are weapons, 22 more marks will you gain thru time. Your eyes will now betray you to freinds and enemy alike. They will glow and change color." This is when I felt something snap around my neck. "This bracer you shall wear forever. Forever immortal to walk the earth, to gather souls for this sword. But beware, beware the Fey're who would free these souls, and bring about the last battle, the end of the Age...... you are now cursed to this task. Omens you will find along the way....and this
prophecy........

"Where two were born of wind,
so shall two be born of fire.
Where two are scarred and sorrowed,
so shall two unite in fire....fire....
fire and wind, storm and lightning,
so the prophecies say, and tell.
So shall it be, so shall it come forward.
Two shall be united, two shall love,
where heartbreak and curses roam...
so shall two break free...."

Until you fulfill this prophecy, you are doomed. Doomed to walk the earth."

And so..............I will not tell you what has happened since then, other than I slew the "a' tregsinn", who instantly turned back to the child. My brethern appeared only at the moment after the forsaken fled the child, leaving me standing there, SpiritSword in hand, runes burned into her hands, a platinum amulet bracer around her neck, the Wizard's stone broken, and an innocent looking child, lying murdered on the ground...............I was cursed to walk the land, fighting for Chaotic Neutral, but with a cruel twist...."

She now looks him straight in the eyes, hers showing no fear, no sorrow anymore, only fate, hope, and a strange kind of vengence. She waits for him to speak....</font>

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color=white> <blockquote>quote:</font><hr>She now looks him straight in the eyes, hers showing no fear, no sorrow anymore, only fate, hope, and a strange kind of vengence. She waits for him to speak.... <hr></blockquote></font>

ooc: Yeah, sure, I'll just follow that up with something spontaneous, eloquent and appropriate ..... *LMFAO*

This is the first of two posts: [feeling no pressure, feeling no pressure, feeling no pressure]

<font color=teal>It is simply a single tear that leaves his eye, but it is the first he has shed since those bitter days of mourning the loss of his wife. He had held her loosely while she spoke that she might be completely free to move with her words. Now, however, he draws her close into an embrace whose acceptance is unyielding. They have paused in their forward movement and stand together suspended in the sky. Silently, he her touches a hand to her cheek collecting her tears and brushing them against the solitary stream beneath his left eye. “Sof’ya ..... Liath Madadh-allaidh [he has memorized these syllables] .....,” he begins to speak but stops short glancing at the storm clouds that surround them. “No,” he whispers, “not here.”

Again the winds that support them begin to gust into movement carrying them upward and through the clouds to a place above the storm where the sunlight is strong and breathing is difficult. “Liath Madadh-allaidh,” he names her as best he can in the tongue of her home, allowing the wind to softly echo her name as he looks at her. “I have breathed within the words of your story. I have breathed into myself the tale of your life. My life will move along the winds of your tale.” Again, his eyes find hers, his voice wraps itself around her as he speaks:

• “My life breathing into your life.
  Your life breathing into mine.
  The storms of your heart,
  the storms of my heart
  move now together
  in the wind of our breathing
  and the wind that we breathe.”

He kisses her then, in this place where the sun is strong and breathing is difficult.</font>

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

Neb entered the town which was now coated by a blanket of fog, the screams and wails had died down as most of the townspeople were now dead or cowering somewhere, whimpering in fear.

The adventurers had managed to vanquish the two Abishai, they were now lost in the fog however, imagining shapes in it, hearing sounds....

The three that had survived the battle stood back to back, watching in all directions when suddenly a dark shape approached them, the immediately turned to face it, it then dissapeared(Neb had teleported behind them) he stabbed one of them in the back and the adventurer died, then he teleported away, now only a warrior and a mage remained, both horribly unnerved and nervous about the smallest noise or movement glimpsed out of the corner of their eye.

Neb decided to put off their death and hid on a nearby rooftop while they started going insane with fear.

Shadowhound stumbles through the woods and sees a village. As he walks in he sees a bunch of dead bodies and hears screaming "how the hell do i manage to find these damn places?" He looks down and sees a gold coin, as he picks it up a knife flies over his head. A ruff looking man wearing scratched and bloody clothing screams and runs forward.

<font color=teal>The winds have borne them again into the storm clouds and again his eyes find hers. He is listening now to distant echoes within the wind and his face darkens. “There is much we must face,” he says, a grim resoluteness in his voice. “Yes, it is difficult to see what lies ahead," a smile breaks through his hardened features as he looks at her, "But, for now at least, hope is all the foresight we need.” He falls silent then, holding her hand and setting his face toward the storm. The wind builds in intensity around them, feeding upon the strength of the storm itself and they ride swiftly along its currents to the tavern.</font>

[ 03-01-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">She agrees silently, and kisses him quickly on the cheek. She turns her face towards the wind.....</font>

OOC: AHHHH! the finger cramps....too much typing....*LMAO*
btw, *swoon, swoon over Cyril* *L*

OOC: I am mostly on here during the weekend, so Cyril if you see the need to take control of my cjaracter please do. I do enjoy coming back to find my character still alive.

ooc: Fair enough, Shadowhound. Cyril and KayLisa will be arriving back at the tavern sometime within the next couple of posts -- you're more than welcome to join them or to continue along after Neb. Feel free to PM me with any instructions for handling your character when your not around.

THE TAVERN

<font color=skyblue>Bartleby

It has been terribly grim work, this wrapping of bodies in bedsheets from the rooms and wiping of blood from the tables and floor. He did not know a man’s eyes could allow so much water to stream from them, but the tears have not stopped their movement along his cheeks since he re-entered the bar area. The two remaining patrons, one of them an adventurer of some sort, have helped him – desperate, it seems to do anything, even this grisly work, to avoid listening to whatever whispered terrors still lingered within their minds. “Horrible ..... just ..... horrible,” he mutters to himself, repeating over and over again the only word that seems to make sense.

He is worried about Maria. He has checked upon her twice and she has grown so very cold – Even her breath is cold.

He forces himself to be strong. “Ye’re doin’ fine, boyo,” he says, walking over to the adventurer and placing a reassuring hand upon the man’s shoulder. “Don’t know what I’d be doin’ without your help.” Turning to the other, he says, “Why you’re the blacksmith’s son – Tim, is it? Lucky I am he raised such a fine lad as yourself ..... Aye .... a comfort ye are, the two of ye.”</font>

<font color="lime">The Fay're rides the ley lines of the forest, stopping now and then to listen to the wind, and smiling...if such an evil thing can smile. waiting..............watching...........sooon..... ......oh so soon..................</font>

<font color=teal>“Ru’ah hamot’tah,” he spits the words, “The Devourer, has been here – the very air is still thick with the poison of its passing .....” A deep anger coils just below his speaking. He stands very still upon the roof, listening and feeling. “And there has been another ..... another as terrible in its own way .....” Noting the flash of recognition in her eyes, he asks, “This Fay’re?”

“If the poison of the Devourer still taints the air out here, inside it must be ......” He turns to her, “Those inside will need healing and .... comfort .... but we can do nothing for them until the air itself is cleansed.” He opens the door to the upper floor and stands before the entrance, an axe clutched tightly in each hand, surrounding himself with the anger of the storm and chanting softly in time with its movement.</font>

<font color="skyblue"> She steps off the side of Cyril, and removes her gloves, holding in one hand her dagger and the other nettle and cowslip dipped in Belladonna..........her eyes glow a fierce purple as she softly starts chanting.....

beannaich sibh, spiorad de am teine agus am deas! Mise thir sibh am falt seo do mo aigne!</font>

ooc: I promise the tavern won't be destroyed ..... Honest!

<font color=skyblue>Bartleby

At first he did not notice the mounting noise of the winds, now, finding himself suddenly surrounded by their swift and violent gusting, a worried expression stretches itself across his face. The two men working with him stand stiffly, exchanging worried looks with one another as the building itself begins to shake with the noise and movement of the winds. The fresh and living air surging past their faces seems to pull the caustic stinging from their throats and lungs. Still the intensity of the wind mounts, upsetting chairs and scattering small objects and violently intruding into the narrowest corners of the building. “Wait!” he cries, “I be knowin’ this wind! ‘Twas just the other night I felt it .... right before .....” His eyes widen in recognition and he turns to the others, “Lads, if ye be knowin’ what’s best for yourselves, ye’d best be duckin’.” He hits the floor himself as the tavern door begins to tear free from its hinges.

The dead and stale air left behind by the Devourer is gathered up and expelled by the winds -- hurled out into the storm on the heels of the tavern door.</font>

[ 03-02-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

<font color=teal>He stands chanting, head turned skyward and his black hair dancing wildly in the winds that surround him. The storm swirling around him builds in intensity and pours violently into the building as his face takes on an ecstatic cast. The purging is relentless – the living air displaces all settled air from the building to the point of snatching half finished breaths from those still alive within. He must be careful now, he must not allow himself to finish the song – to allow this to become a killing storm .....

..... There is also another with him who trusts that what he does will not harm her ..... I have never sung the storms with an outsider present – she is no longer outsider – still she is unschooled in winds like these ...... I must not forget that I no longer walk alone ...... The intensity of the winds builds as he thinks. He can encourage the violence of the storm no more. With an abrupt choking off of his own breath he ceases the chant and brings his outstretched arms suddenly inward, the collision of the axe heads sending a small thunder clap echoing outward from the roof.

The air of the building has been purged of all taint of the Devourer. He stands unsteadily for a few long moments, gasping for breath in an ocean of wind. “It is not often a stormwalker uses his songs for something other than combat,” he says softly.</font>

<font color="skyblue">She is aware of the winds, but does not feel them, although she hears Cyril's chanting in her head. She changes the rythm of her chant to match his, and slowly spread her hands, sending an invisible wall of fire outward, slowly sweeping down the tavern. Where it touches it cleanses, where it touches it does not burn. As it works it way downstairs, it sweeps over the poor innocents killed by their own hands by the Wind. Unfortunately, she can do nothing about their souls, as the Devouring Wind has them now.

She feels the sudden release of the winds, and keeps chanting, slowly moving towards Cyril, and comes within a hair's breadth of touching him, letting the fire course over him..........</font>

[edited for having a blonde day]

[ 03-02-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">She hesitates, afraid he will turn down her offer to help heal him again.............She lowers her hands slowly, the fire slowly flickering between her hands, and she turns to the hole in the wall, looking out at the forest. She will wait until he asks her to do so, although the sight of his hands.........the burns do not disgust her in any way, she just can't help but want to try to ease his pain of it...........As she waits for him to say something, anything.........She listens to the forest, listening for familiar whispers...............</font>

[ 03-03-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color=teal>He stiffens for a moment feeling the touch of something from outside, a strangely friendly touch, that simply offers itself and withdraws. Turning he sees her hands, and the uncertainty in her face. His breathing has returned to normal and the free motion of his fingers tells him that he was able to end the song at only small physical cost to himself. “KayLisa,” he says, “I am sorry .... I was not expecting .....” He brushes a hand against the cloud shaped clasp of his cloak and the stormy mantle over his mind draws aside. How can he express this? “In focusing upon the storm, we are taught to close ourselves to all other forms of embrace ..... whether friendly or not. And, in all truth, no friendly touch has ever reached for me while I sang the storm song .... It is ..... a song of battle.”

Hoping she understands, he continues, “Can you maintain these flames that burn between your hands? Maria is in danger and ..... I can drive the vile breath from her but I can do nothing to heal or comfort her.” He pauses then and glancing first at his hands and then to her eyes. Surprised at how easily the words are spoken, he says, “And I would imagine your touch would be a great comfort to me as well once this is finished.”</font>

<font color="skyblue">She smiles, nodding her head as the flames dance between her hands. ~One day I will tell him about this fire~ She almost laughs ~yes, he is one with the winds and storms, but has yet to realize I am one with the fire and the lightning~ The prophecy flashes thru her mind.

She walks towards him, the flames dancing merrily between her hands and up her arms. "Lead the way, my bold wind dancer. Let us heal Maria together. Then I will turn my attentions to you." She winks at him, and waits for him to take her to Maria, the flames reflecting in her eyes. She has yet to know that the purple has become a permanent feature to the silver..................</font>

<font color=teal>The others are only just recovering their feet and their wits as the two of them move through the building to Maria. There is a coldness about her that is perceptible even without touching her, and her breathing is now little more than a shallow rasping in her throat. “This is how it was with my wife,” he says simply. “But this one I can help.” He kneels beside the bed and withdraws a small flask from the pouch on his belt. He speaks into her ear as he unstoppers the flask. “Do not worry, woman, your children shall not be orphaned this day.” A small gust of wind leaves the container and swirls over her nose and mouth. He clutches the storm reaver tightly in his right hand, his other hand upon her forehead, and intones a soft chant. The small wind grows in both size and intensity until it enfolds her body. With a gasp of his own breath, life again moves through his hand and into the wind. “Breathe,” he says to her as his own breathing slows to match hers. Slowly the new and living air fills her lungs displacing the poisoned breath of the Devouring Wind. He smiles, feeling warmth return to her body and stands – the burns on his hand are very deep.</font>

<font color="skyblue">She moves to the bedside, smiling down at Maria......it is good she had the fetish I gave her, or she would not have survived at all, for Cyril to help her.......She kneels down by the bed, and spreads her hands apart, slowly letting the flames course over Maria..........the flames turn soft blue, in match with Maria's kind aura, and centers over her forehead. She raises her hands slowly, allowing the fire to withdraw. As the fire leaves Maria falls into a normal deep sleep. Still keeping the fire between her hands, her eyes now glowing a bright purple-silver, she turns to Cyril. "Now is your turn, please lay down somewhere............"</font>

<font color=teal>Even though he has decided to receive the touch of her healing, the instinct to refuse is still strong – This movement of life must never become too easy for me. Life can never be given cheaply ..... I must feel the cost ..... – But there is something else here that gives him pause. The memory of those last painful moments with his wife has been awakened here. He does not move for some time as he looks into KayLisa’s face.

“Only the hands,” he says quietly, “only the hands.” He sees the questions in her face and smiles. “There is a painful memory within me in which past and present love have met, and I will not lose the feel of it .....” He stops speaking then and stretches his body out along the floor.</font>

[ooc: He is still too keyed up by the storms to easily fall into slumber.]

[ 03-03-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">She smiles gently at him, waiting until he is still on the floor. She raises an eyebrow when he tells her to just heal his hands, but understands.</font>

<font color="brightblue">She kneels down beside him, and gently kisses him on the cheek. "Relax, I promise this won't bite you." She takes his right hand carefully between hers, hearing him gasp with the sudden touch. She lets the fire play slowly over his hand, the light turning to a dark purple, matching her eyes. She softly chants to herself as the flames course up and down from his fingertips to his elbow.

As the fire slowly moves, the burns start to fade, the burnt skin slowly healing until only faint scars show. She releases that hand, and takes the other, performing the same ritual.

When that hand is done, she sways slightly, and blinks, regaining her balance. She takes her hands, and lightly lays them on each side of his face, and the flames die down, slowly fading away, leaving her hands with barely noticable scarring, that if looked at closely, looks as if they are burned. Before the runes on her palms can contact him and put him to sleep, she pulls her hands away, looking at them, as she falls back against the wall.</font>

<font color="skyblue">"In my pack, there is a small blue bag, with a silver rope tying it together. Would you please make some tea for me out of that? Only two pinches per cup." She sways again, and the light in her eyes dies out, leaving her pale. She dons her gloves as she slowly slides down the wall. She smiles faintly at him, and passes out............</font>

ooc: I will assume that from this point onward KayLisa will be at least basically aware of the first reason for Cyril’s reluctance to be healed.

<font color=teal>He retrieves the bag from her pack and then turns to her. On one knee beside her, he touches her cheek and listens to her breathing. – It was a good thing she stopped at the hands. – He kisses her lightly on the forehead and rises, laughing to himself – Such a long history of sudden collapses in so short a relationship ..... – He picks her up and settles her gently into the soft chair across form the bed. Moving into the kitchen he meets a worried Bartleby with the words, “Maria will be fine. KayLisa has healed her.” He returns in a few minutes with her tea.</font>

<blockquote>quote:</font><hr>Originally posted by Cyril Darkcloud:
<font color="teal">Such a long history of sudden collapses in so short a relationship .....</font><hr></blockquote>

<font color="skyblue">*LMAO* :D you have that effect on her....

IC: She opens one eye, knowing she was only out for a few minutes. She looks around slowly seeing Cyril with her tea. She starts to sit up, and groans, lifting a hand to her head. She chuckles softly, then quickly looks up, looking at Maria and then his hands. She shakes her head, to clear the fuzziness, and curls up in the chair, watching Cyril. She needs the tea desparately, to renew herself and the power, but she does not ask for the tea. Instead, she asks "Is Maria okay? How are your hands? Is the Barkeep, okay, does he need healing, too?" She clears her throat, her voice hoarse.....</font>

[edit for wrong color typed in, ('nother blonde day)]

[ 03-03-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>