Lord Shield's Bar.... I've no idea what number.

[Andrew Mcveigh]

The bar was loud and noisy. Nobody noticed the Shadow Thief walking in. He was quiet, skilled, and deadly. His real name was unknown, but he went by the name "Voleur", which means thief in an ancient language unknown to most in this land.

He took a seat near the wall, hoping to remain invisible. Not a single living being in this bar would know the danger they were in. For Voleur had a horrible plan in his mind, and in a short while he would carry it out...

[Legolas]

OOC: Ooh, I think elfboy's goig to let his bardic friend get away with stealing the map; the bar itself suddenly looks much more interesting (in that I have Mel's written permission to give Linky mild wedgies [img]tongue.gif[/img] )

[ 09-09-2002, 06:39 AM: Message edited by: Legolas ]

[Skydracgrrl]

OOC- points about confusedly. We were doing this, going here, then here, and this, then that, and... *sighs, then goes back to the tavern to sit at her usual corner*
IC- Skye sat down with her elven mead, Lyulfe hidden away in the shadows in order to not attract much attention. Her eyes wandered about dreamily, but her ears listened sharply to the muddle of conversation going on about her.

[Tancred]

OOC: A thingy...

Karnas lets his sword-bound mind wander for a few moments during the sudden confusing lapse in events. He remembers a time, long ago...

***

This rain was not natural. It hammered into the ground, as if determined to reshape the land. The sky was choked by dark clouds, the moon and stars nowhere to be seen. The frantic wind threatened to tear trees up by the roots.
On the wind, noises… voices raised in rhythm, shaping words that were lost in the mad strength of nature.
And, cutting through the night, scraping across the nerves of every man present, a baby’s shrill scream.

Sudden lightning split the darkness in two, and in that sharp light shapes could be seen, standing like giants against the horizon. The flat shapes of stones, raised by men of ancient times. They stood in a rough circle, crowning the hilltop, surrounding a weather-scarred stone table. A young infant squirmed upon that table; a young babe, a girl-child, screaming against the rain… screaming against the dark, ancient malice bent against it, unknowing of the cruel fate that had carried her there. Men stood there too; some brandishing weapons, nervous, wary; others, gesturing, chanting, making a circle of their own.
One man stood in the centre of it all. Robed, his drenched blonde hair whipping around him in the fierce gale, evil in his heart, power at his fingertips, a knife in his hand, exaltation in his face. He stood against the storm, yelling the words he had so long prepared, breathing in the wonderful hate trapped here.
A hate that could be tapped, he thought. A hate that could be bound!
And only royal blood could be the key…
He could feel the bindings slipping with every syllable he cried out into the heavens. He –
An arrow flew out of the blackness of the hill. It thunked against one of the pillars, shattering upon the black stone. Shouts of alarm interrupted his concentration. He looked up in annoyance, one part of his mind forcing his mouth to carry the chant, the other part searching, looking…
He saw them. He felt the shapes of their souls – worried, miserable but determined, angry. They were coming for the child – and him.
Waving his arms frantically, motioning his followers into battle, the robed man began to speed up his chanting, urgency and excitement driving him on. His frustrated hand clutched the dagger, gripping it tightly, waiting for the right moment to strike. Yells of pain came through the rain… a sudden twinge clutched at his heart. Not guilt, no… panic. His followers meant nothing, nothing – but to think that his pursuers were coming so close…
He threw himself into the more important battle; setting his mind and resolve against the ancient wards, seeking out the cracks left by the ages, forcing his way through sheer willpower to the door. This power was as nothing to him. He knew every nuance of the charm placed here, and slowly he began to unravel it, his every syllable tearing it down, brick by spiritual brick…
The last word tumbled breathlessly from his lips. The time was right. He raised the dagger.
“You’re out of luck,” he murmured as he grinned at the child.
A scream lanced out of the darkness. Not from around him, but inside his head; a scream of anger, directed at an old foe. The shock startled the robed man; he clutched his head, gritting his teeth against the sudden pain. His dagger fell to the drenched grass. The prison walls slammed shut. The strength of the chant began to melt away as another power came to challenge him. He glared at the child, still bawling despite the turn of events that rendered her death meaningless. Fighting back a rising rage, he turned.
A woman stood there in the rain. Her hair was drenched, and clung soddenly to her armour. Her violet eyes were hard as gems, her lean face as rigid as stone. With one hand she drew her sword, and at once the night was gone; golden light streamed from what could only be a blessed blade, a sword of legends.
The robed man glared. She stood within the circle – the power of the sword seemed to smother the ancient anger buried within it. They met each other’s eyes, and knew they each faced a foe.
“You again,” spat the man in robes, flexing his fingers.
The woman’s voice was deep, and powerful, and heavy with her judgement.
“Karnas Thoth, prepare to die.”

[ 09-11-2002, 06:18 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

[Link]

The green-robed woman watches the warrior slowly, eyeing him seemingly with great interest. Why? A soft whisper inside the warrior's head asks the question, but it remains unanswered. Still, this woman seems familiar, and somehow he can place her.. place her in his past, his history, in a dark moment, when they met in a time, a place when they both knew this meeting was not to be. Not yet.
"I remember you, warrior. Do you remember me?" The woman speeks slowly, her soft, singing voice is almost unhearable in the noisy bar. Tancred, who at first was watching with great interest, has turned his head. For now, they are unwatched.
"I do." Link speaks slowly as well. As he answers his mind drifts away, to their meeting...

***

The marsh is silent, too silent. Link trudges through the sludge, gripping to trees so he doesn't sink away. His mind is elsewhere, trying to recall the meaning to this trip. He was sent here, by someone, but by whom? It was not a quest, but then again.. it was? Then suddenly he remembers. It was Atuan, the wizard inside of him who had sent him to this place.
The stench of death reaches the warrior, and as he takes another step the fog clears, and the rotting corpse of a horse comes to his sight. It's owner, a knight for sure, lies next to it, it's throat sliced. Link sighs. These so-called heroes should know that this place should not be travelled alone. The swamp is dangerous, treacherous and above all filled with all kinds of foul beasts. Gnolls, lizardmen, even some rumours about hydra's have found their way to him.
A soft cough suddenly gets his attention. He had been standing in front of the knight's body for some time, unaware that someone had approached him. A woman, as it seems, wearing green clothes. She looks at him with interest, and suddenly speaks.
"This is not a place for the likes of you, warrior."
"Oh but it is," Link replies,"you underestamate my abilities, young woman. It is I that question your presence here, for this is not a place for ladies like yourself to be wondering around."
She laughs. The sound of her laughing reliefs him from his sadness, for a moment. The pressing silence, and the misty swamp soon give him back the feeling of loneliness.
"Maybe so," the woman says,"but maybe not. Something has driven me here, and I can assure you, warrior, that I can take care of myself perfectly."
"No doubt, fair lady, my mind cannot think otherwise than that you can take care of yourself. But even I remain cautious when I walk this godforsaken land."
"Me too, warrior. Link, isn't it? I have heard a great deal about you."
Astonished as he his, thoughts run through his mind. How does she know his name? Does she have certain psychic gifts?
"My name.. how?" The warrior stumbles.
The woman laughs again. "If you're thinking that I'm gifted, you're wrong, Link. It's very simple that I guessed right. I told you that I have heard a lot about you, your quests, things you've done. I can think of no other man that would enter these swamps and still lives. That knight-" the woman points at the dead figure "- is one of many examples."
"True enough. Don't you think it'se fair then, that you tell me your name?"
"My name is of no importance yet, warrior, just remember who I am. We will meet again, someday, I'm sure of that. I'll tell you all about me when the time is right." With these words the woman walks away, slowly, and then, with a sudden blow of the wind, the fog hides her green robes, making her disappear from his sight.
The silence returns, in the swamp. In Link's head, the words of the woman echo on. "We will meet again, someday, I'm sure of that. I'll tell you all about me when the time is right." He feels empty, unsure what to do next. Somehow he feels that this was why he was sent here, that Atuan knew that he should go here, and meet this mysterious lady. And on the other hand, it seems as if their meeting was not meant to be, as if they were to meet in another time, in another place...

***

Another time, another place. And the woman has appeared again. The thought spook inside his mind, as he stares at her, wondering who she really is.
"Come, Link. I'll tell you all about me," she whispers, and she tells him a tale of times long ago...

[ 09-12-2002, 10:31 AM: Message edited by: Link ]

[Tancred]

OOC: What happens next? Tellmetellmetellme! Lioness? Link? Anyone?

[Link]

OOC: Well.. I made Lioness important now, so i guess it's her turn to tell us who she really is [img]smile.gif[/img] Go ahead gal! Show us your moves

[ 09-14-2002, 09:50 AM: Message edited by: Link ]

[Skydracgrrl]

everyone continues to hold their breaths in suspense and turn blue. (jk) [img]tongue.gif[/img] it would seem that lioness is either a- busy, b- didnt see this or c- wishes to remain anon.

[Tancred]

"At any rate," mused the rusty knight, "I'd better drink up..."
Tancred gives Karnas an expectant look.
"Well?"
Mumbles and grumbles from the golden sword.
"Oh, come on. You're no fun all of a sudden, Karnas."
"Hmph." The sword sounds mightily moody. "I remember the LAST joust we went to."
"Oh now, come on, that wasn't my fault as you well know. They found it in the end, although how unfortunate for that poor woman... and it was all cleaned off the wall in a week, so no-one was really hurt."
"Let's not forget the thing with the..."
"OH! God, yes! The thing with the... ahem, yes. Well, they found all the bits... nothing a bit of elven glue wouldn't fix. Although again, that poor damsel..."
"Not to mention what happened to poor old Rupert de Courcy?"
"Gad, old Rupert. Terrible shame, that. Still, if a man takes to the field wearing one of THOSE, well, you can't be blamed for the outcome."
"So the courts decided... in the end. How much did it cost to hire that team of lawyers?"
The jovial tone drains from Tancred's voice. "Let's not drag up the past again, alright?"
"I hope you still have their phone numbers."
"Look, are you with me, or not?"
Karnas sighs.
"Oh... alright."
There is a sudden, golden flash... and the Sword Karnas somehow stretches; its' golden form growing longer and longer until, with a sudden flourish, the irascible sword has become a sarcastic lance.
"Right! On to the joust!" Tancred cries.
"And perhaps keeping an eye out for that bard!"
"Yes, possibly."

[Skydracgrrl]

Skye grinned, then approached Tancred and Karnas the golden, er, lance. ^^ "Mind if I come along and sing of your wonderful deeds?" she asked with a wink, hitting a few chords on her harp. "I promise that Lyulfe won't insult Karnas." "Promise my tail," Lyulfe grumbled.