Part 7>>>The Shadow of Love (an LoF adventure)

[Larry_OHF]

Larry heard the dark language come from the supposed baelnorn's mouth, and shuddered...for he'd only heard it muttered by the Mage before. He knew the language, too...but hated using them. But the Baelnorn did not use it for malice, rather for chastisement.

Then had come the inner voice, an echo of a thought, ringing in his ears and mocking his misery, proving him the fault at why Mistral not only lay here now, but also why she could not rise again. It weakened his knees and he had fallen before the baelnorn worked his magic to rebuke the emotions. The voice that mocked was silenced, and Larry felt nothing but his own heart's heavy weight again.

He stood on trmebling legs, and took the cup as was commanded of him. He drank deeply, hoping that he could regain his focus, dry his eyes, and think of what had gone wrong so he could try the spell again before the candle...the candle!

Larry looked and beheld, the candle had melted completely away.

Just then, before his anguish could drown him, Myron said, “It is time you grew up, boy. And time to stop chasing after shadows. Boys are given to such things, but a boy cannot endure what you must now face and a boy will see his story end here before this empty grave.”

"Are you telling me that I never had a chance, and that Mistral is truly gone, never to be raised? Why is this, when all my studies and equations proved this spell I attempted at 100% success rate? I failed in nothing for preparation, I did everything just as it was to be done...and still she does not hear my call! What witchery keeps her locked away? Do you know this answer? Tell me if you do!"

================================================== ============================

Anarrima

Ana was glad to see that they were now safe, although each was tired and spent on resources. Tao lay asleep, her body trying to regain its strength after such an evil assault of some strange power that Ana did not understand. She looked to Tao for wounds that needed healing, and found them. She concentrated her prayers towards healing the wolf-lady, but first, the blade had to be removed. She said her prayers and yanked the blade from its spot, quickly placing her hands over the wounds and calling forth the magical energies to heal instantly those places.

Anarrima casts: Cure Serious Wounds

This was enough to stop the bleeding and save vital organs, but more healing would be required. However, Anarrima had not the ability to do more.

"That's it. I can no longer help this lady for my powers of healing are spent. My goddess commands me rest before she trust me with any more of her graces. Vincent, if you indeed can carry her a ways, we shall be rid of this swamp and find refuge in the forest to the West. Let us go before night falls."

Vincent hoisted Tao into his arms and the four made their way West, walking for nearly an hour before they decided that they had made it far enough away and felt that their forest site was adequate for a campground.

Vincent lay Tao onto a spread blanket and Ana watched over her while the two men gathered dry wood for a fire and foliaged for food.

Anarrima meanwhile began to ponder over this adventure, trying to discern her goddesses will. She had been sent to yonder castle, with Yevaud following behind, and the two of them had found themselves in danger from the moment they arrived. It had ended now, with the loss of one human life and the safety of both Vincent and Tao. She hated that she had failed the one that fell, but rejoiced that she and Yevaud were able to be there for the other two who now rested at this campground with them.

What lay ahead? Where was she and Yevaud to take their aventure now? Where would Vincent go from here? What of Tao? What part did she have to play in the future?

These things were asked, but no response was given from the forest as night approached and while some animals quieted for the night, others were beginning to stir. However, an elf had no fear of anything within the forest. In fact, she rejoiced when she heard the cry of the first wolf...for she knew that they were Tao's friends, coming to see to her well-being. They would be here soon.

[ 07-29-2006, 11:31 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Myron Epimetheus

The little man listens intently as the boy speaks. Still he clings to the illusions that have deceived him - how hard it is for the young to recognize their dreams have been mistaken. “You studied nothing, boy,” the sage says with a quiet sternness in his words. “That shadow you have mistaken for yourself studied and you accepted what it asked you to accept. Even if the woman you seek were here and even were she dead within this grave the spell would not work. You have not the power to cast so great an enchantment regardless of what you have lead yourself to believe.” The sage shuffles forward and stooping picks up the candle. “Spent, boy, like your hopes.” His voice abruptly changes and he speaks quickly in yet another strange tongue and the candle is restored to its original form. “Burn it again, boy, and the result shall be the same. Even were one of great power to burn it and even were this Mistral of yours to be both dead and entombed in this place, it would not work. The underlying structure of shadow out of which it is made is flawed, boy.” His voice shifts once more into the strange tongue of a moment ago and the candle returns to nothing more than few spent drippings of dusky wax. “Accept the limits of your state, boy. You are no mage nor are you powerful, nor is your understanding of things either complete or accurate or clear.” He pauses and fixes his gaze directly on the young man. “Nor is your grief over the loss of your wife any greater than that same grief felt by countless others who have known loss. You are little more than one wounded man in a world filled with the wounded. Boys deny such things and seek to escape them, and boys are easily deceived.” He tosses the spent candle aside, a toy that was only useful in the daydreaming of the mislead.

“You have been deceived, boy. Greatly deceived. A lie was told to you boy, a lie that entered your pain and found there a welcome. A cruel lie. A lie so subtle and so strong it could easily become not only believed but thrust all truth aside in its assertion of itself.” The little man pauses. His grip upon the emerald has grown very tight and his gaze is penetrating as he stares at this young man who stands so unsteadily at such a delicate point in his life. “I have studied the ancient threads of these forums, boy, every one of them. I have discovered the lie and I am here that the truth might be told.”

He falls silent and simply stares at the young man. Minutes pass as he waits for the other to struggle over what he has disclosed to this point. When again he speaks, his words are direct and simple. “You are not, nor have you ever been that One who is known as the Mage that Mods, and Mistral Freelight is not dead.”

[ 07-29-2006, 12:16 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[Larry_OHF]

Larry Silverfall

If it had been missed the two previous times that he said it, there was no misinterpreting the baelnorn now. He had come right out and said that Mistral lived, and somehow he had been tricked to think that he had been the Mage in another life. What was going on? So many questions!

He remembered Mistral pleading for her life...he remembered the burning hatred that turned him into the Mage...he remembered the death and ressurrection in which he had been separated from the Mage's influence and made whole again...cleansed from the impurity that had grown its own consciousness...He rememered it all! Now this thing before him was saying that his memories were not his own?

Who was this guy? By all accounts, he talked like one mastered in the art of Shadow, the way he spoke of its weaknesses and his power over it to reform the candle was certainly impressive. In fact, now that he thought about it...he remembered something that Joe had mentioned once upon a time...that a Sage by the name of Myron had written a book on Shadow Magic and dispelled many myths in that text. By chance,,,was this the very Myron that wrote that book?

He decided to test those waters...

"Tell me, Myron...If what you say is true, then explain the shadow surges that I suffer, sometimes at most inconvenient occasions. Have your studies of ancient threads an answer to that?"

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Myron Epimetheus

“Finish your drink, boy,” the little man says and then lifts his own cup to his mouth that he might sip from its warming contents.

While he gives no outward indication, inwardly the sage is pleased that someone has recognized him. The boy is hardly a scholar and the question of how he has learned his name is a mystery worth exploring at some other time. Better than recognition, however, is that the young man is thinking and not letting his emotions run away with him. “A sensible question asked in a sensible way.” There is a pleased tone about the little man’s voice. “And good sense is a thing one seldom encounters. Drama and action and frantic activity of all sorts one finds aplenty, but a man of good sense or even a man who knows how to be sensible for but a few minutes when that which is around him has grown senseless, these are not so easy to find. And when a sensible question is raised in a sensible way it merits a sensible answer.”

“Think, boy, and remember,” the sage exhorts him. “From the very beginning, there was confusion. Mistral herself perceived that despite the Presence of Shadow using the name of Larry Silverfall such a claim was false. Most simply accepted the self-identification of Shadow with the person of Larry Silverfall and so a lie was able to root itself easily within the forums. In time none questioned it for Mistral would have nothing to do with the Shade and all the rest had simply failed to note that Larry Silverfall – that would be you, boy - still adventured in the One-Eyed Wolf game well after the Mage had fallen by the hand of the foreigner. The foreigner knew that Larry Silverfall was not his opponent in the great battle, but he cared little if at all for events elsewhere in IronWorks, and so while he realized that his was a battle of Storm against Shadow – and with this realization the entire conflict for the fate of the Forums was redefined (Note the thread title) – he knew nothing at that time of the meaning of the Shade’s taking the name of Larry as its own. There was another, however, who understood such things all too well……”

There is a stirring within the emerald which is followed by the whispered breath of laughter in the air, a spiteful and mocking laughter.

I can speak for myself, little sage….. O! Yes! After so lengthy a silence how good it is to speak freely once more….. Yes! O yes. No longer need I conceal myself in the echoes of another’s vanity…… Ah! But a splendid jest it has been, O! yes. Splendid indeed and now I am free, free of my Enemy and free to devour. Yes! Devour, for the souls of this place – so many souls - are now mine to consume and the feasting shall be great indeed. Yes! O! yes.

The grass around them withers and the air grows heavy and stagnant with the listlessness of the grave.

Once more, little sage, I have outwitted you. O! yes! For I am no longer that one whose name is inscribed upon your gem and that name is no longer mine…... And you worked so hard to learn it too. And it is so beautifully, so carefully scribed! Such a pity, O yes. A pity indeed to waste such fine scholarship…… Do not trouble yourself with me. I am but the remnant of one who has been the undoing of so much and so many.…. Yes! But even a simple remnant has its appetites and mine have been awakened to new vigor from the fruitless labors of the boy and his companions. And such a sweet tasting bitterness to these lost and tragically misplaced years, O! Yes. Yes, yes, yes…… Farewell, little Echo, I shall miss you. Ah! How pleasant our time together. But all good things, as they say, crumble at some point to the dust of the grave and there are so many who are simply in need of my attentions. O! Yes!

The air grows damp and oppressive and takes on a bitterness that sets nostrils and throats to burning. The burning lasts but a moment and then the bitterness is gone and the air returns to normal save for the lingering trace of a merry whisper within the ears.

For a moment the little man acts in anger. “Away!” he shouts at the confused Echo who had been the vessel of so vile a hatred. And with gesture of his hand he casts the willful burst of air violently away from this place and back in the direction of the Tower that stands within the shadows. The anger dissipates quickly and with a scholar’s detachment he places the emerald once more in his pockets and composes himself.

[ 07-29-2006, 08:13 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[Larry_OHF]

Larry Silverfall

Larry recovers from the oppresive feeling in the air...as much as he could for his heart was already heavy with the burdon of such news! He had no idea what had just happened or from whence the voice came, but apparently the sage knew something of it.

He looks in the direction of the cast-out Echo...and wondered just how it had been a part of something that certainly was not sent from the Mage...the voice he heard eminating from Echo was much darker...and more dreadful than the half-comic Shade. But that was another matter, and Larry needed to understand his role in this world...as well as Mistral's for that matter. Where would this Myron take him in the story before all things were revealed?

Time to show this old guy his fuse for waiting on the whole story was burning short.

"I have no idea what that was, Myron...though it appeared to be an enemy to good and peaceful things. However, I care not for it as long as it does not seek to be in any tale of mine...but before the interruption, you spoke heavy words for my ears. Your explanations, I do not understand...and I wonder if you just waste my time with false hopes of your own! I still wait to understand the Shadow sorcery within me and how I share memories with the One Who Mods! Answer me these, sage, and let us hope we have no more interruptions from vile voices, for my patience is thinning!



[ 07-31-2006, 03:38 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Myron Epimetheus

At a movement of the sage’s hand the young man’s words dissolve into silence. “Stop your childish prattling, boy. The thinness of your patience is not important.” Once more the little man brings the cup to his mouth and sips contentedly. Between sips the little man studies this curious boy who is so strangely insistent upon his own importance. “Your name matters,” the sage says simply. “You do not.” He pauses so that there is no doubt about the importance of these words.

“When it was possible for Darkness to seize hold of Modding Power, Darkness needed a name, an identity, within which it could cloak itself. As to why your name and your identity were chosen, one can only speculate. But the fact remains that very few had trouble believing the claim of the Darkness that it was indeed nothing other than the corruption of one Larry Silverfall. That would be you, boy. It was a simple claim boldly asserted and relentlessly repeated, and post after post was written identifying Modding Shadow with Larry Silverfall until more came to be said about the name of Larry Silverfall under the aspect of Modding Darkness than about that one was still alive and active as the ‘bumbling ranger’ of the OEW game – that would be you, boy.”

“None of this, perhaps, would have mattered greatly had the Shade remained fallen, for the foreigner and Mistral Freelight perceived the truth and the Larry Silverfall character – that would be you, boy – was still to be seen within the Forums after the fall of the Shade. But ….. and mark my words well, boy ….. there was one who like the foreigner was an outsider to these Forums, who was equally unrelenting in purpose to the foreigner yet far more subtle and vastly more hateful, and this one would not allow such a peaceful outcome to remain undisturbed. This is that one whose presence still burns in your breathing and whose laughter still whispers in your ears, and it is only because that one could not risk remaining here much longer that you are left with your life and mind intact.” Once more he drinks a bit of the steaming liquid – he is so unaccountably cold today.

“Once it was called the Ruah hamot’ta, the Wind that devours like the grave. This was the voice that whispered violent ambition into the ears of Terrakis the giant, this was the one whose touch corrupted the Ley Lines that run between the forums, and this was the voice that tricked a band of foolish adventurers into opening up again the first game in IronWorks history ever to have an ending. And when the game was re-opened, the story was deliberately rewritten and it was then claimed that Modding Mage was the result of the grief of Larry Silverfall – that would be you, boy - following the death of his wife. But the Shade was fallen and Larry Silverfall, that would be you, boy, was lost in his confusion and frustration concerning certain events in the OEW game and Mistral had disappeared. And so the story took root, boy and this lie shaped the outcome of all events, including the restoration of the Mage because by this time Larry Silverfall himself, that would be you, boy, had come to listen to the subtle claim of the lie and had allowed himself to be written into the tale of the Mage. So subtle and so compelling was the lie that even the Shade had come to believe it and upon his restoration its claims were echoed time and again by that one voice he most identified with his own.”

“This was never your game, boy. But deceived into arriving here your pain and your anguish were the food by which that remnant of hatred that did not go forth to die by the foreigner’s hand might sustain itself and grow strong. So complete was the lie that the Shade even produced the candle and allowed the mingling of thoughts and powers with you – for there was no reason to believe otherwise. When the foreigner arranged for the arrows to strike the newly restored Shade it was that you might once more be separated, the one from the other. But you were lost, boy, and believed your home could be found here, but this was never your home. You were grieving and confused, and men are selfish in their grief, believing their own losses to be greater than all other sadnesses and so you built upon the lie that was given you with the lies you told yourself – that you were somehow important, that others must assist in working the miraculous so that your loved one might be restored – and you were believed. And many have fallen, boy, and much heroism was spent chasing after shadows and much good that could have been done was not. And when the day is ended, Modding Shadow has no longer nay need for the mask of Larry Silverfall – that would be you, boy – and bitter disappointment has freed the whispering breath of hatred and you remain as but a low-level character in a game that has badly used you.”

“Finish your dink, boy.”

[ 07-31-2006, 07:01 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[Larry_OHF]

Larry listened to the explanation, his head low and tears welling up in his eyes. How could all of this be true? And what of Mistral? If she were not here in this grave, then where has she been for four years? Why had she not come looking for him? What had happened that day, where she and Arrakis met?

Larry looked over at the tomb, a new idea born into his thoughts. "We shall see.", and with that he unsheathed the Nightblade and stabbed it into the ground, trying to shovel his way to the coffin that may or may not be there. He would end this confusion here and now.

The sage let him go at it, undisturbed. It took nearly an hour, and Larry had given up on using his sword like a shovel and began to dig with his hands, working down into this hole he was making...until he happened upon a wooden box. He was anxious now, and knew that if he lifted the lid and found Mistral there, then he would now be ready to die along-side her. He cleared off the top, found the edges, and took one deep breath before using the Nightblade again to pry open the box that had been nailed shut.

Nails gave way easily because of the rotting wood...and the lid was pushed to one side.

He looked inside, and beheld to his astonishment, for he actually had expected Mistral to be there...but in her place was laid the remains of a wolf and Larry knew exactly what wolf it was.

His pet, Chaos...the one that Spree had given him...how...?

The pain of recognition melted away for Larry realized that this was not the time to grieve for his pet. Mistral was not here!! What was this???

He climbed out of the hole, and with his throat too choked up now to even speak in a normal tone, he cried out,

"WHERE DO I FIND HER?!?!?!?!?!"

[ 07-31-2006, 07:11 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Feel the words from my lips
To your harsh finger tips
Then you know where I come from
Cause I know, yes I know
Everything there is to know
Cause I lost everything I had
See, I could have danced on the sun
But my world came undone
-- Flogging Molly

Myron Epimetheus

The little man sips absentmindedly from his mug while the boy digs – there is nothing like a bit of something warm to drink when one is accountably cold. Nor is there anything quite like the dirt of an old grave on one’s hands when one cannot find his way out of the death of his hopes. A bit of grave mud will do the boy well. Just as another sip of this pleasantly warm beverage is precisely what is required when one’s joints are heavy with dampness. And so the time passes with the boy covering himself in the dirt of a grave and the little man quietly sipping from his mug. The boy finally wraps his knuckles against the wood of a coffin and the little man nods – the splinters of that rotten wood will be good for him. A moment later the stink of a corpse fills the air, but it is neither the corpse nor the stink that the boy had sought with such desperate fury. “The past is dead, boy, and one cannot well live in the present if he insists on losing himself in the grave dirt of yesterday. Still you persist in crawling among the bones of the dead after those who are alive. Step away from there, boy, before you start to smell like a corpse.”

He does not bother waiting for the young man to compose himself before shuffling toward him and thrusting a tightly wrapped scroll into his hands. “Read, boy, the proper telling of your story. But do not read it here, for this is not your home and here all pathways lead you to the grave. Mistral lives, about this you were deceived. But she is lost to you and that is a truth whose denial has brought you to this place where the stink of death is so strong.” With a curiously paternal gesture he places his hand upon the young man’s shoulder, the chill of his touch causing him to shiver. “Come, boy, shake the mud of the grave off of your clothing. The past dies for all men but you do not need to confine your life within the dirty grave of the past. It is time, boy,” light flashes within the hollow sockets that once housed the little man’s eyes, “for you to find your way home and to live the life of Larry Silverfall – that would be you, boy – and not this figment of shadow which offers nothing but a box of rotting bones. Go, boy! Return to that place and that game that are yours, read the scroll and live there the life that is yours by right and not the fictions of these last pain-filled years.”

From the direction of the settlement of Ravenwood horns of mourning are sounded and cries of lamentation rise above the trees, and within the cries there dances a merry note of laughter and a contented whisper ~ Yesssssssssssss! O yes! So very many……

“The Shade rules here, boy, there is nothing for you. Go!”

I sit in and dwell on faces past
Like memories seem to fade
No colour left but black and white
And soon will all turn grey
But may these shadows rise to walk again
With lessons truly learnt
When the blossom flowers in each our hearts
Shall beat a new found flame
- Flogging Molly

[Larry_OHF]

Larry Silverfall

He looked towards the home of the elves here in LoF, and heard their dying breaths begging for justice...but this was not his problem. In fact, it had been an elf that started this whole mess...and he felt the shadow within him smirk.

There had been something in what Myron said...here all pathways lead you to the grave...Mistral lives. This was finally beginning to make sense. In this game, Mistral was indeed as good as dead...but out there...somewhere...in another game, perhaps...she yet lived. He knew exactly what must be done. It was time to make a journey.

He wiped the mud from the Nightblade, a curious sword that had not even dulled in the horrible usage as a shovel just moments ago. He sheathed the cursed blade and bowed low to Myron, the last personage of this game that he would have contact with.

"I would love to say that it has been a pleasure being a part of this game, good sage...but alas I realize that such a lie would not escape your notice. As you said, there is naught but death here for me. I will continue to seek for my love, but in another part of this forum.

Good bye."

Larry turned to the side one last time, and eyed the hole he'd dug...wherin lay Chaos, his pet wolf. How he came to be here...Larry had no idea.

"Farewell, friend."

He turned and walked toward a path that lay stretching to the East.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Larry Silverfall had walked for several hours, having long since past out of Ravenwood and into a murky area...a land that was not entirely here within the confines of LoF. It was a transitional land, Larry realized. This was where it was to take place...his passing from this game. He came upon his ancestral home, the Silverfall manor. Here, Larry entered the cold, dark home and threw off his boots and sword hilt. He found his bed and crashed down upon it, weary of this world and ready to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, he knew that everything would be as it should be.

[Larry_OHF]

The Mage

The Mage had just watched Andrion wander off into a doorway that would take him to a training ground of sorts...a place where he could practice his new powers as a Chosen of the Mage. He was thus gloating over his increasing powers over this forum when suddenly something happened within the game that shook the foundations thereof. The Mage felt an immediate surge of some great thing, and so flew to the wall where he waved his hand and created a magical window into the stone...a window that would show him the matter at hand. What he saw, he'd never have guessed at. Silverfall had left the game!

He turned to his shadow dwarves and exclaimed,

"This I can hardly believe! My worry had been with Silverfall all this time, for I feared killing him, thinking that he held some sway over mine own life, and his strange surges of Shadow energy confused me enough to stay my slaying hand but this! This, my dear ones! I never expected that he'd leave of his own free will! Whatever that candle did for him was well worth the cost, for I have rid the game of Larry Silverfall!

And not only he, but the Windbringer too has no quarrel with me these days, so it would seem that now is the time to begin my new plan. So many possibilities!

Echo?! Where are you, you no-good wisp of crap! Come here now! Echo?"

Where was that foolish Voice?