Date: Wed, 19 Nov 1997 15:45:26 PST
From: Taralon Phoenix
Taralon sits alone in his room a local mucic store. There is an ancient tome set in front of him on the table but his eyes do not see it. He looks troubled, perhaps angry as he sits there. Quietly he begins to speak as if to one who is present, but there are no others in the room but him.
"Why do we have to suffer so? Why must we always feel the pain of separation, the pangs of love, and the sharp sting of jealousy and rejection? You created life, and placed us on this world so that we may enjoy what you have given us. You have sent me to this world to look over and to make sure all is well, all is in balance, but I see no balance. Everyone carries hurt in their eyes, we all laugh with desperation as the sands of our lives flow too quickly through the hourglass. Even those that I touch personally only gain a small respite against the cold that surrounds us. I experience everything they do even though I can see across the ages, across lifetimes. Why do you let pain come to us? Why is suffering so apparent in the world around us?"
Taralon slams his fists onto the table before him.
"Answer me my lord. Why have you given us this?"
Taralon looks as if he expects no answer, but does not look surprised when a deep, but soft voice answers.
"Because that is life my son. Enjoy it."
Taralon answers in an old weary voice, which is very much at odds with his appearance.
"That is what you have answered every time I have asked the last two thousand years, and still I do not understand."
Taralon stands, and runs a hand through his long red hair, he turns and slowly walks down the stairs to speak with the owner of the shop, hoping to bring some happiness into the life of someone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taralon Phoenix
"Life is not lived if you are standing outside the fire..." Garth Brooks.
Date: Thu, 20 Nov 1997 20:09:05 -0800
From: Daniel/LordWolf & Co
The Necromancer finally stirred within the shadow Castle of Camelot all thoughts of the crystal and the trip to Castle Kantanis now gone from his mind for there was no room for it with matters at hand. "The time draws near for the awakening," his rough voice barely audible even to himself. In one fluid move he rises to his feet and leaves the room, entering the byways of the Castle. His feet lead him first upwards to the fire hall with its assortment of old knights and Ladies that cling to a remembrance of their former lives. Out from the great hall he stalks and through the streets of his Camelot of the ShadowLands. Those shades he passes bow and move from his course as he rolls along like a distant thunder storm, gaining strength in its passage. Out from the great city with its hosts of shades and shadow of the past, out onto the great plain that lays before the northern gates. Since the founding of Camelot the field has served as the marshaling grounds for great Armies lead by staunch Knight's of the great city. "Where better to start this part of the plan than here," he whispers softly within his mind.
His steps lead him to the very center of the field where he halts his passage, as a stray wind swirls around him, whipping his black robe across his skeletal frame. The Necromancer raises his head and looks toward the heavens of his world, his hood falling back to reveal his bone white face, skin stretches over his skull as he releases the remnants of the living within him. Drawing upon his gift and art as well as his claim to Lordship over the shades of this world he sends out his awareness till it blankets the realm. For a moment he is startled as his awareness brushes that of the Arch Angel of Death, Gabriel yet he knows that what he is about to do will give him what power he will need to protect himself from even the Angel of Death.
Slowly he releases the spell, part command part art. The shades which parade across the field in and endless practice as they had in their living life suddenly stop and stand still, dead in their tracks. The first shade nearest the Necromancer suddenly arches his back, his chest pushing out as a small amber light, no larger than a human heart suddenly bursts from within it. The shade falls to the ground and in a second is no more than dust in the breeze. Other shades upon the field soon fall as amber globes of light are ripped from them and streak toward the Necromancer. All across the realms shades every where suddenly stop as the very force of their beings are taken from them and fly toward the lone figure which stands upon the field outside the shadow city of Camelot.
The parade field glows as countless orbs or energy, made up of the very essence of the fabric of being, form and condensed around the Necromancer. In scarce moments, there is no movement all across the ShadowLands save for the breeze which blows, filled with the dust of the shades that once were. The Necromancer gathers in the energy, knowing that in what is to come, the shades here used, will soon be replaced with others.
As Gabriel watches, the energy gathers and soon the form of the Necromancer is lost to sight as the cluster of energy shines brighter than a thousand suns. The Arch Angel of Death is fascinated by the blatant strength of the spell and the sacrifice that went into its making and yet he knows he must inform Tomas, his brother of these events. Still he remains to see what is to happen. "It is better that I have all the facts than just some." As he watches, the globes of energy continue to fly in from the farthest reaches of the realm.
For a moment, it is as if the worlds hold their breath even as the Necromancer weaves the bands of control about the energy, making it his. Feeling he has reached a point where the next step can begin slowly he raises his hands and redirects the energy upwards and away from him. A column of amber light springs forth and rips asunder the very fabric which separates this realm from the realm of the living.
The citizens of Camelot are awaken in the middle of the night as an amber column of light rips through the ground of the parade field just outside the Northern Gate of the great city. Those that look out from their windows see the column of light as it streaks upwards and slams into the Celestial Plane, tearing through the outer bounds and into the very plane of Heaven itself. Once there the amber manifestation of power enters the "Well Of Souls" and empties it.
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In the distant land of Lyric, the three races of Elves, Dwarves and Man meet upon the field of Honor to sign the treaties of peace and the trade agreements that will infuse the Council of Elders as the governing body of the land. LordWolf stands before the table placed at the center of the field and watches as the Elders chosen from each race arrived with their armies. "Finally I shall be able to return home once more and be with my family," he softly whispers to himself as thoughts of the baby soon to come causes him to smile. As the Elders stop their forces at the agreed upon places and ride forth to meet at the center of the field he prepares to greet them as a cold shiver suddenly travels down his spine. Acting quickly he sends out his senses and feels a sudden shift within the very fabric of the world. LordWolf staggers and only by a quick hand to the table and a force of will like iron does he remain standing at all.
As the Elders draw near and dismount there is a sudden commotion behind the armies of the Elves and cries of alarm. The Elder of the Elves looks to his people trying to determine what is the cause of the uproar when suddenly the Elven forces surge forth, drawing their weapons as they come. Cries of alarm and betrayal fly through the air as the Elder race to remount and return to the safety of their respective armies. LordWolf raises his hand and lightning cracks into the heavens but it is too late to stop the raging armies as they meet and the battle is joined. See that all is lost, LordWolf calls upon his birth right and shifts his form to that of a giant white eagle and launches himself into the air. Arrows fly through the air as thick as smoke and were it not for his magic, he would have been shot down barely off the ground. With mighty flaps of his wings he rises above the embroiled armies when his eyes are drawn to a single robed figure sitting where the Elven armies had once stood. The Figure is cloaked and hooded yet there is an occasional flash of sunlight from metal as if the horseman wore armor. For a brief moment the ride looks up and their eyes meet and then the ride turns upon his white horse and slowly rides away without a backward glance.
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Travis Duncan was a man of the world, a merchant by trade and life style. He had traveled to distant lands before returning to his home land of Scotland to settle down and raise a family. It had been three days since he had been home and he could hardly wait to see his children and his wife. Travis had traveled to a distant hamlet to do a bit of trading because business had fallen off of late. Business there had been good and he was returning home with enough money in his pack to see his family through the winter. Riding along, he looked up and saw another traveler upon the road riding toward him. The traveler was cloaked and hooded, his face hidden within the shadows of his red cloak. The red mare the person rode was covered in soars and there were splotches and raw areas as well. Moving his own mare off the road he waited til the stranger had past before continuing on. Travis shivered slightly, "Dang if he didn't give me the willies, lass," he said as he patted the horse's neck. "It won't be long now and you'll be safe and warm in your stall, lass." As he rode on he began to get this strange feeling that something wasn't right. Stopping he peered around him and sniffed the air. "What is that smell? There should be the smell of the cooking fires this close to home and yet tis of a stench I smell upon the breeze."
Fear something had happen and not liking the smell at all he spurred his horse into a trout and quick rounded the bend in the round which brought him within sight of his home village. Travis noted that there was no one moving around the village as re road toward it. "That's odd... there should be people about at this time of day." He quickly covered the rest of the distance to the village and then stopped his horse with a jerk of the reins. There, laying in the street, were the bodies of several people. Cautiously he dismounted and approached the first body, that of a young girl. A basket lay next to her upon the ground, it contents of autumn flowers spilled out into the mud. With trembling hands he reached out and gently rolled her over. Recoiling in horror he lurked to his feet and stagger a few feet till the contents of his belly rebelled and left him. When his sickness had passed he searched the whole of the town for anyone alive, finding none. Knowing that it was too late for himself, he spent the remainder of the day dragging bodies to the church in the center of town. By the end of the day, he noticed soars that had began to appear on his skin. Several had broken open and were leaking and palish yellow liquid. As he brought the last body into the church, he closed the doors and bolted them from within. Taking up a keg he had set there earlier he broke it open and began spreading the oil around and over the bodies of the dead. When the keg was empty, he took steal and flint and lite a torch and then stepped to the center of the church and sat down. I do not know what pestilence did cause this or what we did to deserve the Lord's disfavor but may God have pity on our souls." Without looking he tossed the torch down onto the floor and the pool of lamp oil there.
High upon a hill, a lone figure astride a pale red horse watches as the church erupts into flames. For long moments the stranger watches before he turns away and continues on.
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In the distant land of France, a sudden change of temperature causes an early frost and all but destroys the grape harvest of that country. In Germany a freak snow storm blows in from nowhere and the crops are buried in four feet of snow as many go hungry and Famine astride a black gaunt mare crosses the lands leaving behind hunger and the dying.
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The Necromancer stands within the flow of energies of shades as more die within the world of the living his power grows. Drawing back the souls from the Well of Souls he holds them wrapped within the swirling vortex of amber lights and energy. As the attack upon the Well of Souls started, Gabriel the Arch Angel of Death felt it and knew there was no time to call others. He took wing and tried to stop the evil creature known as the Necromancer. Yet the Necromancer sent forth waves of energy drawn from the influx of shades about him and he added to it the power drawn from the souls taken from the Well of Souls and encased the Arch Angel in bands of life and death.
Turning back to the matter at hand the Necromancer releases the next Seal and watched as a pale mare appears and drifts up the shaft of amber light and to the world of the living. "Go now and join thy brethren! Let the harvest of the innocent begin! Let them falls as stalks of grain before thy sickle!"
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On the outskirts of the lands of Camelot in an isolated little farmstead a family sits down to eat their dinner as they do every night. As they bow their heads in prayer to give thanks for what they have, suddenly the flame of the candle flares up and a ghostly figure rises from within. Cloaked in a long black cloak it features hidden deep within its hood it rises to fill the tiny room of their cottage. Bone hands grasp the blood soaked wooden handle of a huge sickle, its blade darker than night. The family recoils in horror but before they can move further, the sickle flash in the light of the candle and their souls are ripped from them. Their heads fall forward onto the table, looks of fright still etched upon their dead features. Without a word the Reaper steps from the cottage and mounts his pale horse and turns back into the night....the harvest has begun!
Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 11:36:44 0800
From: LordTroy
The sleeper stirred restlessly, blanket thrown from the bed. Beside him a beautiful lady whose dreams were also troubled by an unseen force. A pale yellow glow fills the room, awakening the man.
LordTroy looks up with sleepy eyes and then leaps to his feet, very alert and fire blazing up his arms, ready to strike out.
The spectral figures before him held their hands out, their mouths twisting in pain and torment.
"Son", the largest of the figures wailed
Troy stares at the floating figures of his family, who recently tried to kill him, kill LadyMarty, turn Mage_Guts to evil.... and were eventually killed by Mage_Guts. Now do they strike from the grave. Will their torment never end.
"Son", the largest of the figures wailed again
"What do you want, Magius?", LordTroy replied sternly
"There is danger..., you are the last of my line and I want to protect you... the year is at hand... the year of HELLLL", Magius' face contorts in pain.
"What do you speak of spectre?"
"The one who holds my immortal soul, he has come for it, even now I can feel his pull, his summons. You must help Camelot. You must help save them. You must use your BIRTHRIGHT!!"
"NOO, I'll never use that, NEVER!"
"YOU... Muussttt" wailed Magius as his soul and the souls of his dead sons were drawn to the figure on a featureless plane.
LordTroy stood in the darkening room, and turns to look at the sleeping form of LadyMarty. So beautiful, so peaceful. Leaning over the bed, he gently brushes the hair from her cheek and kisses her lightly.
He sighs, "I'll never use that power, never"
He walks from their chambers into the darkened balcony and looks out at the moon. He grips the railing for support as he nearly swoons. Yellow globes are seen rising from the lake. The LakeMonster's victims, before it was tamed by the Lady of the Lake.
Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 12:08:22 PST
From: Taralon Phoenix
((Fires of Life was the first part of this....decided to tie it in... also change the 2000 years to 512 6 for after the fire door...500 for a rebirth after death and 6 for his present life))
Taralon looks up from his game of castle board with the owner of the music shop as the lance of light erupted into the sky. He visibly pales as the first seal is broken and what some would call Ragnorak begins.
"Tara, What is it? What has happened?" The shop owner asks as he turns to look out at the brightening sky.
"Someone is trying to open the seals of the secret book, and thus are releasing the horsemen," Taralon replies with a grim look. "The time has come that man will be tested, as pestilence, famine, war and death walk the earth in physical form. I have dreaded this day, for which I was made, because I am not strong enough to prevail over what comes. I was made to protect, to stand side by side with others, and protect life. However, I do not even understand why I should protect life, for I see nothing but pain and suffering."
Taralon continues to stare out the window and takes his leave of Jerri, the shop owner. He climbs the stairs to his room shuts the door, and lights the candles. He sits down at his desk and opens the bible...slowly he turns the pages as he reads through it.
"Why? Why now?" Taralon asks quietly of the night. "Why must you test me now?"
Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 03:03:23 -0600
From: Diana/Wenn & Co
For three nights passing, Wenndolyne has barely slept. She goes about her day, greets friends in the firehall, assures Simon that his father, Lord Wolf, will return though she herself cannot guess when. His visit from Lyric, so welcome, so needed, was all too fleeting. She knows Wolf has duties mounded on him in that land of conflict and he would not have come at all had Sir Poet's visit to him not been so persuasive. Wenn needed so much to see her love and though she was grateful, a part of her begins to wonder shall that be her last memory of him. Fate has away of arranging such things.
In the middle of this third night, only a few after Lord Wolf's brief visit, Wenn was awakened abruptly from her fitful sleep. The night air chilled the cold sweat that had dampened her hair and gown. She shifted and swung her feet to the floor, sitting up, rubbing her face with her hands. Wolf's pendant and its power, now made part of her, can feel it. Something is amiss... something more than just Wolf's absence from the Keep. His child within her has been restless of late but this night she can feel a... disturbance... a shivering or shudder, separate from her own.
Wenn can no longer sit still in the dark room. She rises and walks out into the hall and to Simon's room. Standing in the doorway, Wenn can hear Simon's little snoring sounds even as he shifts restlessly in his sleep. She is concerned but grateful he has not awakened. Hiding her fear or explaining it away is something she cannot do just now, not for Simon, not even for herself. Wenn steadies herself against the door frame as she looks over Simon and out the window. Her mouth goes dry even as the child within her moves suddenly enough to make her feel nauseous... or was it the light?
Her heart sinks, her eyes well with tears, blurring what she sees. Though she has no notion what it is, some knowing deep within her, some knowing from her Wolf or her own soul, tells her this light is to be feared. Wenn crosses quietly around to the window then the deep sense of fear and sorrow sit her on the edge of Simon's bed. The soft pale blue of moonlight does not drift through the window to comfort her. Instead, there is a sickening golden yellow glow on the black horizon.
She closes her eyes against the distant amber light, causing a single tear to slip down over her cheek. Her hands caress her mounded belly in a rhythmic motion to soothe the child so restless within her. She hums quietly to calm herself and chase away the images from her mind. The echo of nightmares that have plagued her sleep... swords clashing, children starving, blood spilt for no reason but chaos... finally begin to fade through sheer force of will. And Wolf... she cannot think on him, where he is, if he is safe... she will have to trust that he is, unable to consider the alternative. In any case, she does sense him in some way, so she knows he does yet live. Wenn hums a little louder, drowning out her thoughts.
Simon's restlessness subsides with her humming as weariness overtakes Wenn. She curls up in the bed next to him, seeing that they are both tucked in tightly beneath the covers. At last sleep finds her, pushing away the questions about what is causing this strange disturbance as she vows silently not to be so affected by it. Her unborn child is in the safest place it shall ever be and she must not taint it with worry.
Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 05:03:05 -0500
From: Ernie/Simon/Lerrad/Tuckian/etc
Simon slips down the stairs from the upper rooms and into the Great Hall of WolfKeep. He pauses at the bottom stair, his form so very tiny in the great dimness of the hall. His eyes dance about the room, some candles still burning, never seeming to go out and releasing a pale glow upon the room. He grins, thinking on why and how this happens, then shrugs slightly and quietly makes his way across the hall and to the table. As he pulls out a chair, the sound of it on the stone floor shatters the silence in the room and he winces a bit before climbing up onto the seat.
Simon usually rises now when the Keep is quiet and even the crickets that sing early in the night are sleeping. He is used to the darkness, knowing that in a little while, the faint glow of a rising sun will allow his eyes to see the shapes of what is now impossible to see just now. He pulls open the drawer under the table top and begins his morning ritual of accounting for his drawings, looking at each and every one of them carefully.
Suddenly, his eyes are distracted from his work. Looking up quickly at a window near the hearth, he pushes aside the drawings and slides off his chair, making his way across the hall to the window. Simon stares out at the darkness toward the forest. It is dark, save one small point in the midst of the woods. He stares at the light source for some time, blinking to make certain it is not his vision playing tricks on him. With a frown, he walks to the door and opens it slowly, peaking out at the light that appears to have moved a bit as he did.
He tries to measure the distance of the light from himself, but cannot. Simon steps out onto the porch, calling out to it once, breaking the silence of the morning..."Hello there? Are you..." He stops his words, frantically looking about the porch and feeling panicked suddenly.
Simon does not know why he feels uneasy, suddenly, perhaps someone is nearby...watching. He speaks again, his small voice cracking nervously a bit as he does..."I..I'm not alone here, ya know. There's lots of folks in the Keep...and they'll hear" He backs toward the door, turning a quick retreat to the door, only to find it closed and latched from inside. With a panicked whimper, he turns and flattens his back against the large door, his eyes darting about the darkness. First at the mysterious light source, still there in the woods then at the darkness around the porch.
He speaks with quickened words, pure fear flowing through them, "The sun'll be up soon. I..I'll see ya then. Y..Ya better go. Y..Ya better not..." As he says the words, he glances toward the east, expecting to see the faint glow of the rising sun, but soon realizes that it is not happening. The sun is not coming up as he'd expected. That the darkness is not going away as usual. The day is not beginning.
He flashes his eyes back toward the light in the woods and realizes that it is getting closer to him. It is slowly moving toward the porch. Simon turns and tries, again, to open the door to no avail. Tears moisten his eyes and another panicked whimper escapes his lips..."Wenn!", he yells as he looks over his shoulder at the light now growing in size. "Wenn!"
He struggles with the door a moment longer, looking over his shoulder at the light still closing in on him. He turns to face it with wide eyes, pressing his back against the door. Tears stream down his cheeks, illuminated by the light as it moves ever closer. Simon hears a slight rustling in a nearby bush, an animal perhaps, but does not move his eyes from the light that now burns brightly in front of him.
He slides down the down and curls his legs up in front of himself, sobbing and shaking in fear now. The light moves ever closer, having grown to more than his size, and finally engulfs him.
Simon squints for a moment, the light seeming to be brighter than any summer day, then settles to a comfortable level. He looks about, seeing the porch still...the door, but seeing it all with clarity, as if it were indeed daytime. Simon stands slowly and reaches out a hand, trying to move it outside of the light, but cannot, then quickly retrieves the hand back at his side.
A warm, soft voice whispers in his ear, making Simon start when it begins..."Simon, Love...you are fine, dear. We are here with you and will not allow you to be harmed."
Simon stumbles back, the light following him as he hits the door and swallows nervously..."Who? What are you? How do you know my name?" He wipes his eyes, taking in a shuddered breath, then slides back down against the door..."There's lots of folks who'll wonder where I am. Who'll come looking."
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Taylor DeBouse has arisen early this morning with hopes on getting the LordWolf's horses fed and groomed before the rise of the sun. He is to meet his love, Carmen, in Camelot's gardens later that day for a picnic. He gathers up his supplies and heads out of his home, making his way toward the barn to fetch his horse for the short ride to the properties of WolfKeep. As he enters his barn, he pauses as a distinct odor invades his nostrils and swallows back nausea as he continues into the structure to investigate.
As Taylor rounds the corner, into the stall he stops suddenly, his hand moving to his mouth in horror as he sees that his horse lying in the hay, dead. A cloud of flies swarm about the fallen animal and he winces at the sight. Thinking that an animal attack is the cause, he pulls his shirt up over his face and moves closer. The odor is overwhelming, causing him to stop several times before reaching the center of the stall.
He leans over the carcass, waving his hand at the flies, then stops...noting a sore on the back of his hand. He straightens, backing away from the horse, staring at his hand. Some flies follow him and he waves them off to no avail, seeing another sore, further up his arm. He backs to the edge of the stall then turns and steps to the lantern, holding his hand up to the light and staring at the painful sores, now spreading rapidly over his skin.
"My God. Dear God.", he mutters as he rushes to the water trough and washes the sores, trying desperately to remove whatever is on him. He winces as he washes, the water feeling like acid on the sores, yet cool to the skin that still remains. A smaller swarm of the flies begin to hover about him and he waves his hands in the air at them.
In a rushed panic, Taylor opens his shirt knowing what he is to find. His chest covered with the same deep, painful sores, the odor of rotting flesh filling his nostrils further...only now he knows, it is his own flesh he smells.
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Simon whimpers on the porch, still uncertain he is not in danger, "They'll come and get you. My Daddy's mean!"
"Simon, tis fine, little one. We're here to help you, Son.", a warm caressing woman's voice says. "No. We won't hurt you. We'd never hurt you, Boy.", a deep comforting man's voice.
Simon swallows again, then clears his throat..."Mommy? Daddy?" His voice is weak and labored, for he'd not seen his parents...his real parents...since that night when Wolf brought them to him. "Is that you?"
"Yes, little one.", his mother says, "Tis us, but we will not be here long...and never again. Tis a time of great strife and we are here tonight to protect you for now."
His father's voice takes over, "Aye, Boy. We will do what we can to help you tonight. The threat is greatest to you now. But, we will be taken soon enough." Simon blinks, looking about, trying to locate them..."Where are you? I wanna see you."
The light begins to fade from around him, separating itself from him and moving to a single point again. A warm voice, the two together as one speak to Simon again, "We will not see thee again, my son. Live on and know that we love you."
Simon watches at the light moves off the porch, following it now to the porches edge and calling out, "But..." He can only watch as it moves away quicker with each second, tears streaming down his cheeks. He only has enough energy to wave a weak hand at it as it moves out of sight.
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Simon suddenly jolts up in his bed, his face wet with tears. He quickly slides out from under the blanket and off the bed, rushing to the stairs. He descends the stairs and crosses the Great Hall, looking anxiously out the window at the forest.
The early morning sun has begun its rise in the east as his memory has already faded. Simon turns and looks down thoughtfully, wondering why he'd rushed downstairs to begin with, then crosses the hall again back toward the stairs. He glances at the table and stops.
"What are you all doing out?", he questions, seeing his drawings spread out on the table in front of his chair. He climbs up into the chair, staring at the pile of drawings a moment with a frown, then back over his shoulder at the window, now brightening with sunlight. He smiles and moves his eyes to the tapestries on the far wall, the sun's light creating a dance of colors from the stained glass windows, as it does every morning.
E-mail comments and/or corrections to Diana/Wenn & Co