Tavern by the Creek (The Curses) Part III - Page 5

Cyril Darkcloud · 03-11-2002, 11:58 PM

THE MOUNTAIN

The Devouring Wind

The lingering traces of power and presence left by the rituals have all been gathered into the desecrating embrace of the Devouring Wind. A whisper begins to form among the roiling currents of stale air, a slight and subtle sound of mockery and laughter that seeks release to ride along the winds and carry the tainted ritual touch to another.

O yes! Such a wonderful name he has given you .... Sof’ya ..... Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im ..... Such a delight to speak ..... Sof’ya ...... I shall whisper it to you even as he does ..... O yes! .....

THE CLEARING

As the woman sits before the fire, a whispered breath rides along the undertow of the breeze. It approaches her slowly clinging to the recently purified air, a presence too slight to be noticed if one does not know how to perceive it. “Sof’ya .... Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im,” the syllables of the name Cyril has given her speak mockingly from within her ears, and as she gasps in surprise the remainder of the breath joins with the intake of air into her lungs and within her a horrible laughter sounds its first notes .....

Ahh! Sof’ya! How good it is to finally meet you ..... O yes! How delightful an opportunity for us to come to know each other ..... we do have so much, so very much, in common ......

There is a slight burning within her throat that makes it strangely difficult to concentrate and the whispered mockery of the voice begins to echo within her thoughts .....

Off to the side Cyril sleeps unaware of the silent arrival of the Devourer’s voice.

[ 03-12-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

TAOWolf · 03-12-2002, 11:42 AM

She fights against this intrusion into her mind, her throat on fire, as if she had swallowed the coals from the fire in front of her........The mocking whisper goes on and on, and she violently shakes her head, trying to rid herself of it. Finally, she thrusts both hands into the fire, trying to scream Cyril's name, but no voice comes out, only a long anguished howling, that goes on and on and on...................

[ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

TAOWolf · 03-13-2002, 08:51 PM

The wolves around the tavern suddenly start howling, feeling their sister's pain, but will not enter her mind, knowing that whatever is attacking her cannot know of the link, so they howl for her, trying to help take the pain away, and trying to wake Protector, to help her..........

Cyril Darkcloud · 03-13-2002, 08:53 PM

The Devouring Wind

How delightfully responsive you are! ..... O yes! This shall indeed be a rare friendship – yours and mine, Sof’ya. So strong and yet with so much, O so very much, insecurity. I am so very glad that we have had this chance for private conversation .....

Never more than a whisper, but with the dulling force of muted thunder, the voice speaks – each syllable probing, each word implying a dozen potential fears, each echo an invitation to doubt. There is no silence, there is only the mocking whisper and its echoes and they allow no other speech except the songs of doubt that they awaken.

So you are the one who would walk with him, with Seh’rul ..... An outsider like you! And who among his people will accept you, outsider? And the child, that child that once was his, how will she accept an outsider in the place of her mother? ..... Ah! Yes! His wife, her mother – now there was a life quite unlike any other ...... O yes, someone really should speak truthfully to you, outsider. And truth be told, woman, you shall disappoint him. You shall disappoint them all ......

Still the whisper speaks, each word cutting with the chill of the grave and tainting even the air she breathes with a desecrating staleness.

You do not know what lies ahead, do you, woman? Do you, Sof’ya? ...... Allow me to show you where this will lead ..... O yes! You speak of fate and destiny and prophecy and none of these matter, outsider, in the grasp of the Wind that knows no master ...... Even your outsider gods cannot save those caught by the Wind that Scatters ..... Yes, let me show you where this all shall end ......

The whisper speaks and in its speaking images emerge – of a distant and stormswept place terribly near the sky and a lonely man, a man called 'Seh’rul' ["Cyril," the voice sneers]. The winds that shriek violently around him grow still for a moment and he inhales deeply, collecting the breath of his life, and then exhales into a small earthen flask which he carefully stoppers and seals with a runic stamp as the winds grow violent again. He stands silently a moment and then surrenders the flask of his breath into the grasp of the wind. It is borne violently away from him only to be suddenly and violently returned to where he stands, shattering to pieces at his feet – his gathered breath mercilessly torn to fragments and scattered along the wind ......

As with the vessel of breath, so to with the Vessel of the Curse. O! You would do well not to forget this, Sof’ya ..... O! The wonderful irony of your name! Sof’ya, such a delight simply to say. Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im ......

...... But, no! No! He wakes too soon ......there are words still to say ......

[ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

TAOWolf · 03-13-2002, 09:18 PM

~THE MOUNTAIN RANGE OF TRUILLAH, THE FORBIDDEN CAVES~

Caillech paces back and forth, stopping once every great once in awhile to scream her fury at the roof of her prison as she has for hundreds of years......... only ..........this time......~a small flake of rock floats down and lands on her upturned hideous face......... "What is this? What is this? OH, yes.......oh YES........." She smiles evilly and quickly runs to the fire in the center of the cave, her prison..........She throws a pinch of dried dragon bones upon the flames, and raises her hands...

"FAY'RE, FAY'RE...sister of the Forsaken, I HEAR YOU .......... find the talisman that those wicked Druids and mages hid in the north, find it and free me..............THEN we will set the others freee......"

The Fay're stops in the midst of her travels of the ley lines, and smiles hearing her sisters voice, knowing the wards must be weakening.......~yes, sister sooonn......soon......~ She changes directions heading North, North to the old Mages White Tower........to search...yes and to find.......

In the midst of shadowing out, she stops confused, hearing another voice, a voice that is like a whisper on the wind .............. tilting her head, she stares with blind eyes, listening........

[ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

Cyril Darkcloud · 03-13-2002, 10:52 PM

Moving swiftly to KayLisa he lifts her, pulling her hands from the fire. Carrying her to the spread out cloaks, he lays her down and whispers the name he has given her, “Sof’ya.” His whisper rides the breeze to her ears insisting to be heard. “Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im,” he breathes the syllables with a slow and forceful gentleness which is a dramatic contrast to the storm that has gathered in the lines of his face. With the slight pressure of his fingertips upon her chin he pushes her mouth closed. “Do not try to speak,” he whispers, “do not try even to breathe. To breathe is to lend force to the speaking of the whisper and to let it feed upon the wind of your life. Do not breathe.” He takes her hands in one of his own, he whispers, “KayLisa, Sof’ya, you must trust me.”

TAOWolf · 03-14-2002, 12:07 AM

She faintly hears Cyril's ~no........Seh'rul's.......~ voice, and starts to speak, or try to when he closes her mouth and tells her not to, not even to breathe......she holds her breath, eyes tightly shut, barely feeling his touch...................

~~images and thoughts flash thru her mind, burned there forever........(would his daughter accept her? She would NEVER try to replace the child's mother.......NEVER......only be there somehow for her...but how?)........(and what happened to his wife?)..........(it said my gods cannot save him or me..........)........................(Cyril,...... ..remember, remember...........remember what? OH YES, the winds, the flask.....the breath of his life?.....WAIT.....WAIT.....the FLASK!!)~~

Her eyes fly open and she tries to tell Cyril with her eyes, eyes that are completely white, blind...........

blind with power now emerging from within, wanting to fight this.....this FORCE that invaded her, that DARED invade her..........

Her mind sears with the image of the flask in the vision given to her.........She protects this image fiercely, realizing that the ~wind?~ has made a grave error in showing her this vision...........hope... OH YES this has given her more hope than any despair this thing could have done to her...if only she can tell Cyril...

But don't breathe, don't speak?....~tears flow from her eyes and as the tears roll slowly down her cheeks, so her eyes change to violent purple.....staring at Cyril~..................

Cyril Darkcloud · 03-14-2002, 12:24 AM

The violent purple of her gaze stuns him with its intensity, and his own eyes brim for a moment with tears. A tense but relieved smile flashes across his face. “Fighting is useless here – one does not control the Wind. No, this is but a small voice that feeds and grows with the attention you give it.” Gathering the folds of his cloak around her with his free hand, he whispers, “KayLisa, protect.” As the cloak enfolds her body with its protective warmth, he speaks softly as he touches the clasp, “Your mind will be isolated for a few moments.” A mantle of storm clouds stretches itself across her thoughts, the soft and living rumble of distant thunder rising against the mocking whispers of the Devourer’s voice. Softly he chants in the strange and ancient dialect of the stormsong and the air around her exposed face gusts into violent movement. “Sof’ya,” he says, holding her eyes with his own, “open your mouth but do not breathe, nor even exhale. Let the living air breathe for you.”

The gathered gusts rush with sudden violence past her nose and mouth pulling the very air from her lungs and throat in their wake. Placing his hands along the sides of her head, he holds her still as he continues the chant and the gusts continue their rushing flight. His tone softens and the movement of the wind shifts, taking on a slower and fuller presence over her face. “Breathe now,” he says, “as I do.” The free and living air moves slowly and quietly in time with her breathing, filling her lungs and easing the burning within her throat. He touches the clasp once more, opening her mind to the silence of her own breathing and the feel of his hands along her face.

[ 03-14-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

TAOWolf · 03-14-2002, 10:42 AM

The wolves howling dies down as they feel Protector helping Fire-eyes, and they tentatively send a collective message to him, asking if she is alright...afraid to send a message to her yet, not wanting ~the bad wind~ to know....

TAOWolf · 03-14-2002, 10:53 AM

She sees Cyril's eyes fill with tears, and her heart almost breaks, thinking there is
nothing he can do.... but he smiles......She listens to his whisper, and feels his cloak around her....

~she is startled at first by the clouds in her mind, but they seem to push the evil winds whispers into the
distance~ She opens her mouth , not breathing as he instructs her, and is not prepared for the violent
gusts of wind tearing thru her mouth and nose, lungs, her very being........

She vaguely hears him chanting, and slowly the violence slows to a soft blowing. He tells her to breathe at last,
and she tentatively takes a small breath, and feels the burning in her throat softly melt away....she breathes
slowly, and suddenly feels his hands upon her face.

~She keeps looking at him, her eyes staying the violent purple, but the tears slowly stop falling....she is vaguely
aware her hands are not gloved, but the thought seems to come from a long distance and is hazy....~

03-14-2002, 12:24 AM	#48
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	The violent purple of her gaze stuns him with its intensity, and his own eyes brim for a moment with tears. A tense but relieved smile flashes across his face. “Fighting is useless here – one does not control the Wind. No, this is but a small voice that feeds and grows with the attention you give it.” Gathering the folds of his cloak around her with his free hand, he whispers, “KayLisa, protect.” As the cloak enfolds her body with its protective warmth, he speaks softly as he touches the clasp, “Your mind will be isolated for a few moments.” A mantle of storm clouds stretches itself across her thoughts, the soft and living rumble of distant thunder rising against the mocking whispers of the Devourer’s voice. Softly he chants in the strange and ancient dialect of the stormsong and the air around her exposed face gusts into violent movement. “Sof’ya,” he says, holding her eyes with his own, “open your mouth but do not breathe, nor even exhale. Let the living air breathe for you.” The gathered gusts rush with sudden violence past her nose and mouth pulling the very air from her lungs and throat in their wake. Placing his hands along the sides of her head, he holds her still as he continues the chant and the gusts continue their rushing flight. His tone softens and the movement of the wind shifts, taking on a slower and fuller presence over her face. “Breathe now,” he says, “as I do.” The free and living air moves slowly and quietly in time with her breathing, filling her lungs and easing the burning within her throat. He touches the clasp once more, opening her mind to the silence of her own breathing and the feel of his hands along her face. [ 03-14-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ] __________________ One does not control the Wind. One enters it, feels its freedom. And moves.

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03-11-2002, 11:58 PM	#41
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	THE MOUNTAIN The Devouring Wind The lingering traces of power and presence left by the rituals have all been gathered into the desecrating embrace of the Devouring Wind. A whisper begins to form among the roiling currents of stale air, a slight and subtle sound of mockery and laughter that seeks release to ride along the winds and carry the tainted ritual touch to another. O yes! Such a wonderful name he has given you .... Sof’ya ..... Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im ..... Such a delight to speak ..... Sof’ya ...... I shall whisper it to you even as he does ..... O yes! ..... THE CLEARING As the woman sits before the fire, a whispered breath rides along the undertow of the breeze. It approaches her slowly clinging to the recently purified air, a presence too slight to be noticed if one does not know how to perceive it. “Sof’ya .... Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im,” the syllables of the name Cyril has given her speak mockingly from within her ears, and as she gasps in surprise the remainder of the breath joins with the intake of air into her lungs and within her a horrible laughter sounds its first notes ..... Ahh! Sof’ya! How good it is to finally meet you ..... O yes! How delightful an opportunity for us to come to know each other ..... we do have so much, so very* much, in common ......* There is a slight burning within her throat that makes it strangely difficult to concentrate and the whispered mockery of the voice begins to echo within her thoughts ..... Off to the side Cyril sleeps unaware of the silent arrival of the Devourer’s voice. [ 03-12-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

03-12-2002, 11:42 AM	#42
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	She fights against this intrusion into her mind, her throat on fire, as if she had swallowed the coals from the fire in front of her........The mocking whisper goes on and on, and she violently shakes her head, trying to rid herself of it. Finally, she thrusts both hands into the fire, trying to scream Cyril's name, but no voice comes out, only a long anguished howling, that goes on and on and on................... [ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

03-13-2002, 08:51 PM	#43
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	The wolves around the tavern suddenly start howling, feeling their sister's pain, but will not enter her mind, knowing that whatever is attacking her cannot know of the link, so they howl for her, trying to help take the pain away, and trying to wake Protector, to help her..........

03-13-2002, 08:53 PM	#44
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	The Devouring Wind How delightfully responsive you are! ..... O yes! This shall indeed be a rare friendship – yours and mine, Sof’ya. So strong and yet with so much, O so very much, insecurity. I am so very glad that we have had this chance for private conversation ..... Never more than a whisper, but with the dulling force of muted thunder, the voice speaks – each syllable probing, each word implying a dozen potential fears, each echo an invitation to doubt. There is no silence, there is only the mocking whisper and its echoes and they allow no other speech except the songs of doubt that they awaken. So you are the one who would walk with him, with Seh’rul ..... An outsider like you! And who among his people will accept you, outsider? And the child, that child that once was his, how will she accept an outsider in the place of her mother? ..... Ah! Yes! His wife, her mother – now there was a life quite unlike any other ...... O yes, someone really should speak truthfully to you, outsider. And truth be told, woman, you shall disappoint him. You shall disappoint them all ...... Still the whisper speaks, each word cutting with the chill of the grave and tainting even the air she breathes with a desecrating staleness. You do not know what lies ahead, do you, woman? Do you, Sof’ya? ...... Allow me to show you where this will lead ..... O yes! You speak of fate and destiny and prophecy and none of these matter, outsider, in the grasp of the Wind that knows no master ...... Even your outsider gods cannot save those caught by the Wind that Scatters ..... Yes, let me show you where this all shall end ...... The whisper speaks and in its speaking images emerge – of a distant and stormswept place terribly near the sky and a lonely man, a man called 'Seh’rul' ["Cyril," the voice sneers]. The winds that shriek violently around him grow still for a moment and he inhales deeply, collecting the breath of his life, and then exhales into a small earthen flask which he carefully stoppers and seals with a runic stamp as the winds grow violent again. He stands silently a moment and then surrenders the flask of his breath into the grasp of the wind. It is borne violently away from him only to be suddenly and violently returned to where he stands, shattering to pieces at his feet – his gathered breath mercilessly torn to fragments and scattered along the wind ...... As with the vessel of breath, so to with the Vessel of the Curse. O! You would do well not to forget this, Sof’ya ..... O! The wonderful irony of your name! Sof’ya, such a delight simply to say. Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im ...... ...... But, no! No! He wakes too soon ......there are words still to say ...... [ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ] [ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

03-13-2002, 09:18 PM	#45
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	~THE MOUNTAIN RANGE OF TRUILLAH, THE FORBIDDEN CAVES~ Caillech paces back and forth, stopping once every great once in awhile to scream her fury at the roof of her prison as she has for hundreds of years......... only ..........this time......~a small flake of rock floats down and lands on her upturned hideous face......... "What is this? What is this? OH, yes.......oh YES........." She smiles evilly and quickly runs to the fire in the center of the cave, her prison..........She throws a pinch of dried dragon bones upon the flames, and raises her hands... "FAY'RE, FAY'RE...sister of the Forsaken, I HEAR YOU .......... find the talisman that those wicked Druids and mages hid in the north, find it and free me..............THEN we will set the others freee......" The Fay're stops in the midst of her travels of the ley lines, and smiles hearing her sisters voice, knowing the wards must be weakening.......~yes, sister sooonn......soon......~ She changes directions heading North, North to the old Mages White Tower........to search...yes and to find....... In the midst of shadowing out, she stops confused, hearing another voice, a voice that is like a whisper on the wind .............. tilting her head, she stares with blind eyes, listening........ [ 03-13-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

03-13-2002, 10:52 PM	#46
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	Moving swiftly to KayLisa he lifts her, pulling her hands from the fire. Carrying her to the spread out cloaks, he lays her down and whispers the name he has given her, “Sof’ya.” His whisper rides the breeze to her ears insisting to be heard. “Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im,” he breathes the syllables with a slow and forceful gentleness which is a dramatic contrast to the storm that has gathered in the lines of his face. With the slight pressure of his fingertips upon her chin he pushes her mouth closed. “Do not try to speak,” he whispers, “do not try even to breathe. To breathe is to lend force to the speaking of the whisper and to let it feed upon the wind of your life. Do not breathe.” He takes her hands in one of his own, he whispers, “KayLisa, Sof’ya, you must trust me.”

03-14-2002, 12:07 AM	#47
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	She faintly hears Cyril's ~no........Seh'rul's.......~ voice, and starts to speak, or try to when he closes her mouth and tells her not to, not even to breathe......she holds her breath, eyes tightly shut, barely feeling his touch................... ~~images and thoughts flash thru her mind, burned there forever........(would his daughter accept her? She would NEVER try to replace the child's mother.......NEVER......only be there somehow for her...but how?)........(and what happened to his wife?)..........(it said my gods cannot save him or me..........)........................(Cyril,...... ..remember, remember...........remember what? OH YES, the winds, the flask.....the breath of his life?.....WAIT.....WAIT.....the FLASK!!)~~ Her eyes fly open and she tries to tell Cyril with her eyes, eyes that are completely white, blind........... blind with power now emerging from within, wanting to fight this.....this FORCE that invaded her, that DARED invade her.......... Her mind sears with the image of the flask in the vision given to her.........She protects this image fiercely, realizing that the ~wind?~ has made a grave error in showing her this vision...........hope... OH YES this has given her more hope than any despair this thing could have done to her...if only she can tell Cyril... But don't breathe, don't speak?....~tears flow from her eyes and as the tears roll slowly down her cheeks, so her eyes change to violent purple.....staring at Cyril~..................

03-14-2002, 10:42 AM	#49
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	The wolves howling dies down as they feel Protector helping Fire-eyes, and they tentatively send a collective message to him, asking if she is alright...afraid to send a message to her yet, not wanting ~the bad wind~ to know....

03-14-2002, 10:53 AM	#50
TAOWolf White Dragon Join Date: December 1, 2001 Location: Mountains of Arkansas, US Posts: 1,887	She sees Cyril's eyes fill with tears, and her heart almost breaks, thinking there is nothing he can do.... but he smiles......She listens to his whisper, and feels his cloak around her.... ~she is startled at first by the clouds in her mind, but they seem to push the evil winds whispers into the distance~ She opens her mouth , not breathing as he instructs her, and is not prepared for the violent gusts of wind tearing thru her mouth and nose, lungs, her very being........ She vaguely hears him chanting, and slowly the violence slows to a soft blowing. He tells her to breathe at last, and she tentatively takes a small breath, and feels the burning in her throat softly melt away....she breathes slowly, and suddenly feels his hands upon her face. ~She keeps looking at him, her eyes staying the violent purple, but the tears slowly stop falling....she is vaguely aware her hands are not gloved, but the thought seems to come from a long distance and is hazy....~

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