Part 4>>>The Shadow of Love (an LoF adventure)

[Morgeruat]

Roderik

With the doorway now before him, and ample light coming from within, the bard had to stop himself from stepping through. Wondering silently why the mage of shadow would put a source of so much light within his tower he was left with few choices, either this was the source from which all the shadows that made up the tower were from, or it was a trap, made bright and comforting to ensnare those unwary fools who entered. Doubting it was the former, (what kind of idiot would make a simple lever the access point for your home's entire being), Roderik began loooking for his shadow, and where it was cast. It meant losing time to whatever beast tracked him, but also meant potentially gaining an escape route. Besides if the beast were anything like most predators, it would begin baying when it drew near, to send him into a panic and make the capture that much more satisfying to it.

[ArcadesSabboth]

[i]Arcades stumbles back after feeling the venomous infection spreading from the bite he received. In a weak attempt to stop the spread, he shapeshifts to a human form, making the wound vanish from his body, though he remains in pain the likes of which he had never encountered in his long years.

Arcades rests against a tree, as his body demanded him to, though he felt he had to find Liam and Kaylisa, he couldnt bring himself to move again. quite yet.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Elsewhere ....... in a land where shadow holds sway over all

“Go.” The word is quietly spoken and moves through the air with a peculiar directness that gathers all of the sound of its single syllable into the ears of that one alone to whom it is spoken. The small owl stirs, opening its wings in the stale and heavy air of this place. “Go,” the quiet word is whispered once more and the owl flies silently out into the darkness ......

Dangerous is this place, a land of shadows that consume the warmth of light, a harsh and bitter land where stern power holds sway over all. Dangerous is this place, a land of stalking shadows whose touch hungers to seize whatever life might pass their way. A bitter, dangerous land whose stagnant air chokes whatever breezes seek to move beneath its dusky skies. Yet, air finds movement here and a breeze more bitter even than the shades asserts itself in quiet motion within the stagnant air. And upon the breeze another movement is borne, a movement swift and silent and untroubled by the dangers beneath these skies. For dangerous is this place, but danger follows too behind the owl that glides with but the whisper of a movement upon the bitter wind ......

[Cyril Darkcloud]

For TAOWolf

The streets of this place are empty for the rain is cold and unrelenting and the inviting warmth of hearth fires and the shelter of home conspire to keep those with sense indoors, away from the storm. The absence of both man and beast from these streets, however, does not mean that there is a lack of movement here. In addition to the steady, almost joyful, falling of the rain, the wind weaves its way in an intricate dance between buildings and raindrops. In her arrival near the tavern, the woman with the silver-banded throat steps from the darkness of shadow into the cold of the rain and the dancing of the wind.

Within the dance of the wind lies another dance, a dancing of words spoken with the familiar awkwardness of a foreign accent. Although the accent is familiar, however, the voice is not for it is the voice of a young woman, a voice having more of smile than of grim and stern resolve about it. The words, however, which dance about her hearing are very familiar indeed to the woman: Liath Madadh-allaidh.

Several long seconds these syllables ring within the ears of the woman before dancing upward away from the vacant streets of this place to drift along the roof tops.

[Larry_OHF]

Nanashi

She watched the battle unfold and ultimately end with the dragon being the victor...killing the wolf-goblin thing. She cursed aloud, not caring who heard.

Thinking to herself, she wondered why the luck would have it that Liam could not have died at the hands of that beast. It would have made things much more easy.

Shew sat back in the top of the tree, leaning against the trunk and pondered her next move. She was supposed to be after Larry, the enemy of her Master. However, she had been side-tracked by a rival. Her own brother. Her feelings were too strong against him, especially after having finally encountered him after all these years. She wanted ultimate revenge against him, but then she would be defiling the wishes of her master...and that could not happen. Quickly realizing that she needed to get back on the trail of the true enemy, she jumped from her perch and began making a trail towards the one that she had to kill.

[Morgeruat]

North, in the lands of the Reaper

The land under shadow had felt the winds of change, they blew in off of the northern mountains that protected the frozen wastes from most of the ravages of Orcish armies, who lived in the caves and warrens of Reapers land. Farther south than that border it was not a pleasant wind, forges that ran nonstop spewed toxic fumes into the air, adding to the gloom, and now carried by the wind. They would be carried by the winds wherever they went, foul, disfiguring, and abominable to any druids it would encounter, and not just the One so hated by the Reaper. This particular wind also brought in air from the frozen sea, father north than most men believed possible, where titans wrestled with enormous oxen. The gloom grew deeper, as thunderheads clashed, lightning struck at the defiled land below, and ominous shadows covered what even the faint sunlight of the past few days had left bare. The Reaper was not a happy man, his prodigy was missing in the tower of his enemy, and would likely need extensive “testing” before he could be trusted. Although in this case sacrifice to Sithas and then reanimation might remove any taint left by the Shadow Mage. The orcs played their games, and now were hiding from the fury of the storm, hiding like the vermin they were, the Wolfwere’s, lesser and greater were out hunting as they were wont to do, and his pets tried to escape their bindings. The Bleeding Soul was hungry again, innocent blood was rare in this land, and most sensible and pure people had long since fled the areas near his domain. He would go hunting soon, capturing those of good heart and turning them to his side was most rewarding, but for now, he would be satisfied with slaying whomever was out and about. He would worry about the Shadow another day, and enjoy his sport this day.

Reaper

A farmstead, a dozen miles north of the One Eyed Wolf tavern was where he found his sport. The one who tried to fight him was a simple farmer, run through before he could do more than try and draw steel against the dark knight, and bleeding to death on the floor of his own shack while the rain pounded outside. There were three youths and their mother remaining, captured with ease, they were carefully taken to the dungeons of his keep. Tortured before each others eyes, the family saw each other torn limb form limb by diabolical machines, as well as mad surgeons. No hero came to save them, no dashing drow with scimitars whirling, or noble knight bent on righting the wrongs of a world gone mad, no for this poor family all that remained was oblivion, their only hope was for a swift death, which was granted, once the Reaper became bored with his sport.

[TAOWolf]

'that bastard....' she thinks to herself upon arriving back in the town not far from the tavern, and narrows her eyes frowning at the ground...

Clenching her fists, she controls her temper. Barely. The wind picks up and a cleansing rain begins to fall. She pushes back the hood of her cloak, letting the cold rain wash away her anger and fear as her hands slowly unclench and she runs her hands over her face.

She turns into the wind, and releases her plait of hair into it, letting the wind playfully tug at her cloak and hair as she stands, pondering where to go or how to find the others.

As she contemplates these things, a soft whisper of words begin to sing upon the wind around her, repeating the same words over and over in a very familiar accent, although distinctly female in origin, and this startles her..

"Liath Madadh-allaidh" the wind repeats to her, then gently flows upward and away, leaving her absolutely speechless as her mind works furiously to comprehend this new advantage to her...

Her eyes glow swiftly to silver then back, over and over again as her mind repeats this episode to her until the meaning hits her like a brick.

Clutching her staff in one hand, she raises the other to wind and rain, silver tears drifting slowly down her cheeks as she whispers into the wind...

"Liath Madadh-allaidh", my WindBringer...... but why is your daughter speaking this?"She lowers her head, as the wind gently lifts her hair, tossing it around then just as gently lays it down against her back again..
Tapping her staff lightly to the ground twice, she looks toward the One-Eyed-Wolf. Her eyes glow softly in the darkening evening light as she raises one gloved hand and touches the platinum bracer around her neck..

[ 12-02-2004, 12:04 AM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

For Larry Silverfall

In silence it arrives, its flight untroubled by the unrelenting rainfall. It arrives unnoticed for few things would be so difficult to perceive by those unprepared for its arrival as the silent gliding of a dusky owl within the gray darkness of a storm. Owls hunt in silence, moving with effortless swiftness to a sudden seizure of prey caught unawares by grasping talons. Here, however, the small owl stalks no physical prey and neither beak nor talons shall end the life of some small, untroubled creature with a sudden tearing of sinew from bone. Prey of a much different sort is sought by the dusky bird this evening. With a purposeful boldness it changes the course of its gliding movement upon the wings and flies downward near the place where the one called Larry Silverfall stands, the muted beating of its wings as it draws close the only indication of its arrival. It hoots softly drawing the attention of the adventurer away from his thoughts to the rapid approach of its bared talons. The talons snap closed just before they reach his eyes, seizing nothing but his attention and with the same swift and silent boldness with which it approached, the owl whose name is Whisper rises upward upon the wind and is soon gone.

ooc: Larry – I just sent a PM your way. I’m also assuming that your character is the only one who would possibly recognize this owl.

[ArcadesSabboth]

Arcades awakes with the pain receeded, but a new sense just at the edges of his awareness, a conciousness shareing his own, but more vicious and ravenous than any other he'd encountered. He begins to realize that the foul creature he killed had infected him with it's curse, Lycanthropy.

He had to find Kaylisa, she was a Druid and had more experience with this sort of problem than he did. Since he didnt want the beast taking over his original form and becoming that much more powerful, he remains in human form, so the change would only become a humanoid Werewolf.

After walking a short ways back to the town, The beast begins washing over Arcades' mind, as if attempting to drown his conciousness in a sea of animalistic emotions. He anchors his mind above the flood, keeping himself aware and safe from the mind of the beast.

The transformation to his body was painful, not like his normal shapeshifting, and once the sickening crunching of bones and shifting of organs was done, the Wolf began heading straight for town with a landspeed Arcades' human form couldnt hope to have.

"No! We dont hunt humans, we need to find Kaylisa!" He screams in his own mind, but the most he can do is steer the creature away from the town and back toward the Taven of the One Eyed Wolf, where the scent of his friend was strong. A wolven howl fills the sky to warn her of his arrival.

OOC: PM me if anyone needs me to change something.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

For TAOWolf

Kiria’na

She smiles for the woman with the silver-banded throat knows who it is that speaks to her. Her smile is followed by the spontaneity of laughter at the fact that despite this, all the woman needs do is look upward to the roof tops rather than speak vaguely into the air. At the sound of her laughter the woman does turn her gaze upward and even in the dim light of a place beneath stormy skies the dancing of color within the woman’s eyes is every bit as mysterious as she has been told – “So you are indeed that one of whom he has spoken,” she smiles.

There is much she would say for she has been waiting to meet this one but the howl of some great creature rings through the air. Her bearing changes at the sound, and the laughter leaves her voice, displaced by a tone much more resolute and quiet. “We must speak, but my words are for you alone.” She opens her hand dropping a single feather which drifts slowly down to the woman. Her movements have a nimble grace about them as she steps out of view. “Seek me,” her quiet voice lingers a moment near the woman, its accent very pronounced, “when you have finished with the beast.”

ooc: PM sent your way.