Revelations (Invitation only) part 2

[Bozos of Bones]

Ghar Dien 47/47 70/70
The nearby scream woke Ghar Dien up. His eyes opened, and they were already glowing a faint red, his reflexes calling forth his magic. He could clearly see that everybody around him was dead. Everybody but one. Jonal stood maybe a dozen feet away, his bloody blade glinting in the moonlight. The calm expression on his face told Ghar exactly what happened. He jumped out of his sack at lightning speed, rolled to the side and got into a crouch similar to how a great cat looks like when it's about to pounce. "Why?" Ghar's voice was altered, deepened, by the magic coursing through him. He expected a fight. Jonal only looked at him, and took a step forward. He didn't look angry, sad, troubled or mad, he displayed no emotion at all. A pop could be heard from Ghar's left hand as bones came into place after the fingers turned to blades.
At the same time, they sprung toward each other, Ghar Dien's blades aimed at Jonal's chest while Jonal's sword aimed at Ghar's gut. Mid flight, Ghar started turning his back toward Jonal. Jonal's sword made contact with Ghar's back, but it felt as if it was padded leather instead of human skin. His left hand now in no position to strike, Ghar's right elbow smacked into Jonal's face and knocked him back a step. Without pausing, Ghar jumped back as soon as he landed, this time going straight for Jonal. The sword moved down to avoid Ghar's claw and entered his soft stomach. It would have gone all the way through had his back not been carpace. Ghar's unnatural scream sent a chill through Jonal's bones. He grabbed Jonal's head with both hands, still groweling in pain, and drove it onto the ground below. Weakened, Ghar rolled off Jonal and remained on the ground. After a few short breaths his back arched and his muscles flexed as he used his magic to close the wound. When he opened his eyes, he could see that Jonal had already gotten up, and was standing above him with his sword. He came down at Ghar with his sword in both hands moving down to stab him. Both Ghar's hands grabbed the weapon's hilt and tried to move it away, his left hand now back to normal. Slowly, the sword was steadily moving toward's Ghar's throat. Kneeling on top of him, Jonal could hear something cracking behind him, as if he was breaking Ghar's legs. He turned his head to see Ghar's legs coming at him, feet shaped into something like muscular hands of an ape. Before he had time to get out of the way, Ghar's feet gripped Jonal's neck and pulled him backwards. Jonal's hands threw the sword away and flailed for an instant before gripping the things around his neck. As hard as he tried, he couldn't get the hands to let go, even to ease the grip. He couldn't get a breath in. Jonal's left hand searched his boot for a knife, and with the last ounce of strength he drove it down into Ghar's middle. Then again. Ghar's grip increased, it seemed like it would crush Jonal's neck entirely. The knife stabbed again. And again. Howling in pain, Ghar let go. He tried to use his magic to heal the wounds, but the knife went in again. And again. The blood splattered on both Ghar's and Jonal's face with each thrust. Ghar tried again to use his magic to harden his skin like he did before, but he couldn't. Not when the knife went in again. And again. And again so many times that his middle looked like a butcher's bin of discarded meat. Ghar's red eyes closed. Jonal thought Ghar was dead, but he stabbed him two more times just to make sure. He let the knife drop to the side and exhaled atop the dead Ghar. He was amazed at how good a fight Ghar proved to be, but he was still the victor. He smirked.
Suddenly, Ghar's red eyes were before Jonal's face again, and his hands were around Jonal's throat in a flash. Ghar's mouth opened to show his animal teeth, and the same light in his eyes was coming from his mouth. An almost demonic voice boomed from Ghar's gritted teeth "Now you pay." Ghar was dead, the only thing keeping him alive now is his own power of will. And that could only keep him for so long. But it didn't matter. He knew what he must do. Killing Jonal was far too simple, and far too unpunishing. Instead, he went back to the moment more than twenty years ago, when the Earthrock first opened his eyes to magic. He remembered the feeling of arcane powers streaming through him for the first time, touching every single part of his body, his being. Now, he had to do the same thing, only reversed. And focused. And forced. His hands started glowing red. Jonal's eyes raced to see what exactly was happening. He was paralyzed, all he could do is stare and fear. The sharp blow of pain cocked his head back, and he couldn't contain a scream. The night was filled by both Jonal's scream of pain and Ghar's demonic scream of anger. Jonal could feel some of his muscles twist, his ribs crack, his left hand break and his right knee turn. His jaw made a sickening pop, but the screams drowned all that noise. The pain washed over him like a storm at sea, and his mind couldn't take any more. Jonal passed out. Ghar Dien passed away. Nothing but absolute silence and darkness was left.

[dplax]

Had Ghar Dien been a much more powerful shapeshifter he could have forced such a gruesome transformation on Jonal, that the man would never have come out of his unconsciousness. Luckily for Jonal, Ghar Dien had not disposed of that power, and the transformation could not be completed before the last breath of life left the shapeshifter's body.

Still, the pain, once Jonal woke up was several magnitudes greater than anything he had felt before. It felt as if his whole body were being crushed between two giant rocks, with nowhere to escape, nothing, which could take him away from the pain. For a moment Jonal thought that he was dead, but death could not be the same as life before, or could it?

Ghar Dien's lifeless body lay next to him, his wrists still twisted in that last incantation. If Jonal were still alive, he would have to find some way to get rid of this pain. Not only did it bother his senses, but it seemed to him that his chest was also slightly deformed and that he had some difficulty breathing, but the pain was so blinding that he could not exactly discern these effects.

Maybe what magic had distorted, magic could bring back to its original state?

[Larry_OHF]

Jonal Turamarth 01/78 00/56

Jonal could think of only one person he trusted, and that was actually close enough to save him from this torment, but it might mean being further enslaved to him. The one who had hired him for this job. He had to get back there. But how? And how could he convince him that the job had been completed?

There was only one thing he could do. With every last ounce of energy that he had, Jonal slid along the ground towards his sword, and with what great effort it took, was able to cut the heads off of his two victims, and then get them wrapped up in a cloth and placed into a satchel that he found laying there amongst the dead. These he would take back as proof of the job done and hopefully a good enough bribe to buy a miracle from an evil man.

It was with fruitless, however, unless he could figure out how to get back. It had been a day's walk, and at the moment, he could not see himself pulling his way across the distance with his workable two fingers on his right hand. His legs were useless, his one arm worked with great pain, and he was winded from all the effort he had just put into all that work. He lay there in the blood and gore he'd created and rested...but the pain was too great. That did not however stop the blackness from calling him as he passed out.

OOC>>>Taking a bit to get back into character, but I should be okay.

[dplax]

Floating on the uneasy waves of unconsciousness, oblivious to what happened next to him, a whole army could have marched past him, and Jonal would not have heard anything.

Light intruded upon his dreams, quivering before his eyes. His eyelids flew open, and he noticed that the light was from a lantern being hold close to his face.

"This one here is still alive sir." - he heard a gruff male voice say. As his sight slowly cleared he noticed rough leather boots, chainmail armour, with a crest on it. A young face, but already battle scarred.

An older man came closer, and pushed the lantern away. He knelt down close to Jonal, and with the lantern no longer shining in his face Jonal could get a good look at the man. He looked to be in his early fifties. He had a handsome face, but it was his eyes that told most of the tale. They were the eyes of someone, who had seen more than he would have liked during his years.

He wore the same attire as the younger soldier, now behind him, but his chain mail was much more exquisitely decorated. He had a short beard, and grey strands were already starting to appear in his hair.

He put a hand next to Jonal's neck, and felt the pulse. It seemed healthy to him, but the man was clearly in very bad shape.

"I am Richard Strongmare, I own some land close to here. I was travelling along the road, when one of my men spotted the carnage that had happened here. Can you speak?" - he asked Jonal. "What happened here?"

[Larry_OHF]

Jonal Turamarth 01/78 00/56

He could not believe his luck. He thought that he was doomed to die, for he had not the strength to get to help on his own...and now somebody had shown up! To make things really interesting, the people that found him were not scavengers, but helpful people.

He could no longer sit up, for whatever muscle that required that action had given up. He lay there, finding his throat too sore to speak in a normal voice, so his rasply responded,

"Bandits...kill....friends...I fought...tried...not strong enough..."

~cough, cough, cough~

"Have friends...near...please"

~cough, cough, cough~

He hoped that this was enough, and he also hoped that he could get by with nobody checking his satchel.

[ 02-27-2006, 08:54 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[dplax]

It took the man a few moments to understand what Jonal was trying to say, but when he finally did so, his expression turned into a forced smile.

"You are lucky to have survived. I have urgent business to conduct in the city, so I can take you that way. Where exactly are these friends, who could take care of you?"

[ 02-27-2006, 02:03 PM: Message edited by: dplax ]

[Larry_OHF]

Jonal Turamarth 01/78 00/56


Jonal could barely hear the man now...as he sounded so far away. Dare he lead these people near the base camp of that vile clan? He had no choice. Somehow, he had to get there, but risking the secrecy of the camp might be condemnable too. He would have to deal with that later. Right now, all that mattered was survival.

"South...west...7................hours...walk..."

[dplax]

"You are lucky. We can drop you off that way. The city is 8 hours from here, and there is an inn not far away from it, we could drop you off there, or close to it, if that is acceptable for you."

The man seemed to be genuinely concerned with Jonal's fate, but it seemed that he did not want to go too much out of his own way to help him. His business must have been quite important.

[Larry_OHF]

Jonal Turamarth 01/78 00/56


Jonal could only nod, and wince at the pain in his neck as he did so. He figured he'd die before making to anywhere that would get him any healing...but survival is to keep going until you're actually dead. That is what this was...he figured he'd do the best he could, but with little hope.

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The trip was uneventful, and rather short since Jonal slipped in and out of consciousness...so time passed rather oddly. When he was awake, every moment was a day's worth of pain and agony. The one good thing about it all was that during his "sleeps", he was not bothered by that fool of a god that loved to torment people's dreams.

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They finally arrived, and called out to Jonal to find out if he was still alive. Jonal responded with a forced wheeze and a fluttering of his eyelids. The caravan stopped and two men helped unload Jonal as though he were a sack. The satchel had been brought as well, but nobody was villianous enough to pilfer through his belongings while he yet lived, so its contents remained secret. They asked Jonal if he did not want them to actually deliver him to his friends in the area, but Jonal refused with what he thought was a head shake for no. He could not really tell which way his head was wagging since his head felt numb, as though it was not even attached to a torso. They decided that this man knew what he was doing, and being in no hurry to go out of their own way, consented to just leave him there in the open field, leaving behind their blessings of a safe journey and the hope to meet again one day.

Jonal was finally here! He only needed to make it to that mountain in the distance where he'd hope to be able to find help from a scout.

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It had been hours, and he'd made it part of the way since the caravan of men dropped him off earlier. Night had fallen and already he could hear animals on the hunt in the wild. He was a delicious meal, he realized and tried to hurry it up with the struggle to pull himself along. Pain was too intense, and he was sweating heavily. His scent was surely attracting something by now. However, as luck would have it, since Jonal cared not to thank any gods for his fortune...a man came upon him.

He poked the end of a spear into Jonal's leg, and Jonal rolled over to show that he was indeed alive, and for the man to get a look at his face...hoping that his face was actually still there.

"Hey...I know you. You're that guy that was here a couple days ago. What the hell happened to you?"

Jonal had no energy to talk, and he hoped that the man did not expect him to.

"Well then, I suppose you're trying to get back to the hideout before something out here eats you, eh?" I guess the boss would prefer you to die at his hand than some stupid animal...so let's go."

The guard grabbed Jonal's arm...not caring about the pain he'd induce on Jonal, and dragged him along. Jonal held in his screams. He'd gotten used to the pain, but most importantly he did not want the guy to stop helping...although he wished the guy was a bit nicer than this. Still, he'd rather be dragged along than to be left alone again while this brute went for help. In the time he'd be gone, Jonal could indeed end up a meal for a nocturnal hunter.

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Finally, after nearly half and hour of being dragged across the ground by the arm which was twisted and bent...Jonal arrived at the cave. There were other guards near the entrance that helped their fellow guard carry Jonal inside. They had no reason to actually be nice to him, so they just dumped him into a holding cell until somebody could go get the Boss.

[dplax]

Time passed slowly, the seconds seeming like hours, and the hours like days. Finally, after what seemed to Jonal as several weeks, his cell was opened. One guard grabbed his satchel, which by then was starting to pretty badly stink, and two more lifted Jonal by his elbows, and they dragged him in front of the leader of the cult.

Shaka stared for about a minute at Jonal, then finally spoke.

"Well? Is your return glorious, or have you come to whimper for mercy?"