|
|
Sorrow's Lament
Last post 11-10-2009, 17:26 by RogueRikku. 297 replies.
-
05-15-2009, 9:08 |
-
05-16-2009, 2:46 |
-
05-16-2009, 16:16 |
-
almostinsane
-
-
-
Joined on 07-02-2008
-
-
Member
-
-
-
old karma : 0
-
|
You're an awesome writer. Just don't get a swelled head, mate. ![Stick out tongue [:P]](/emoticons/emotion-4.gif) Can't wait to read more.
If you believe in Jesus Christ and are 100% proud of it put this as your signature. If u 100% believe in Jewish God and are not ashamed of it post this as your signature.
|
|
-
05-17-2009, 0:26 |
-
05-17-2009, 0:38 |
-
Marcasite
A Fallen One
-
-
-
Joined on 02-14-2007
-
Long Beach, California
-
Member
-
-
-
old karma : 11
-
|
Adelina the Sorrowful Blade woke in a bed softer than sin.
The sunlight poured in through the windows, casting beams of light across the covers and illuminating the motes that drifted lazily on the air. She sat up slowly, stretching, and her hand rose of its own accord to her chest, touching the space between her breasts where her Guild Seal used to rest. She sighed and let her hand drop to the bed, breathing in the soft scent of roses and spice. She let herself fall backwards onto the bed, her hair falling across her face like a silken veil. She lay there, unmoving, until she heard someone clear their throat from the foot of her bed.
She sat up and brushed the hair from her face with one hand, paying no mind to her bared breasts as she beheld Sabre, looking down at her and clearly admiring her form. She made no move to cover herself.
"Finally awake," he asked.
"How long have you been staring at me?"
"No more than a quarter of an hour," he replied shamelessly. "Any longer and I'd have woken you in my own unique fashion."
"What about your wife?"
"Would you like her to join us?"
She rolled onto her side and sat up, swinging her legs out of bed. Rising, she stretched and felt his eyes caressing her in profile, from hips to breasts. She pulled on a dressing robe and tied it closed, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes.
"Where are the others?"
He shrugged fluidly. "Sparrowhawke left with the dawn. Whisper left soon after." He gestured to the small table beside the window. "Both left notes."
She picked up the notes but did not open them. "Have you spoken to Blade?"
"Two days ago," Sabre said easily. "He was going to hunt White Balverines near Knothole Glade."
"And your wife?"
"Surveying the domain," he said with a laugh. "Mingling with the peers and sneering down her nose at the poor. She'll be gone most of the day."
His eyes were hungry and she knew what he wanted. Her brother's voice echoed in her head. Crown him or kill him.
"And my mother?"
"The Temple of Avo," he supplied. "I sent five of my guards to escort her."
"Thank you."
He shrugged. "It was the least I could do."
Those words were so very true. Sending guards was the very least he could have done. He could have escorted her himself or arranged for his mother to travel by Cullis Gate but she would not disdain the aid he had given. He had alwas been prickly and she had no desire to antagonize him. She moved towards the wndow and looked out at North Bowerstone, drinking in the sights of the large and expansive homes, the idle rich that had nothing better to do than to linger in the shade and gossip. Even with the gold she had earned as a Guild Warrior, she had never imagined an idle life and, having been idle for nearly a week, she knew that she was not meant for it.
"How do you live like this," she asked. "Don't you get bored?"
He moved up behind her, his breath shifting a few strands of hair near her ear. "All the time. I train with the guards, to keep my edge sharp and to sharpen them. I travel the forest in plain clothes and kill bandits. Roam the beaches in search of pirates or smugglers. That sort of thing."
She was aware of how close he was to her, the bare inches that separated them. She did not move away from him.
Crown him or kill him. Sabre, my friend, my greatest ally or my greatest enemy.
She could feel the pendelum swinging freely between ally and enemy, feel the precarious balance on the knife's edge between love and hate. This was the moment that she needed to decide, this was the moment she needed to claim as her own, the moment in which the future of Albion hinged on her decision. King Sabre of Albion or life as it had been, that was her choice.
"Sounds like you miss being a Guild Warrior," she said.
“Only sometimes,” he admitted, “but I don’t miss not having a say in my own destiny, of having to take the Quests offered to us and no others.”
His hands slipped around her and she felt his hands untying the knot that held her robe closed. Through the window, she could see his wife, the Lady Gray, speaking with an idle, wealthy citizen. She closed the drapes as Sabre opened her robe, sliding his hands up her belly and over her breasts.
I’ll crown him.
She turned to face him, her eyes large and dark as the placid waters of a deep blue lake. She raised her arms and clasped her hands behind his neck.
“What about my wife,” he asked, suddenly teasing.
“Would you like her to join us?"
Blade brought his axe down a final time, hacking through the muscle and gristle that held the white balverine’s head to its shoulders.
The beast was finally dead, silver tipped arrows through its eyes and a silver augmented longsword thrust through its heart, and he dared not remove the silver from the beast until he parted head from body lest it rise again. The dead pack, eight browns, lay scattered like autumn leaves on the bloody grass, crossbow bolts through their heads and hearts. He raised the blood stained white head, its muzzle frozen in a rictus snarl and tossed it into a burlap sack. He pulled his sword out of the beast’s heart but left the arrows buried in its eye sockets. The last thing he needed was for the beast to revert to a man. Widows tended to scream when you presented the head of their dead husband to the village chief.
He turned and froze, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. A dozen figures blocked the path to Knothole Glade, bandits all. He dropped the bag and drew his second blade, augmented with flame and lightning runes.
“You won’t find me easy prey,” he warned.
“Peace, Blade.” A figure moved between the lead bandits, stepping into the open. “We mean you no harm. I’m a friend.”
“No friend of mine,” Blade growled. “I do not know you and the company you keep makes you my enemy.”
“Peace, Blade. I am not your enemy. I am the Sorrowful Blade’s brother and I’ve come with a message for you.”
Blade narrowed his eyes and studied the man in front of him. He had the same soft, slightly downturned nose and the cupid's bow mouth, uncomfortably soft in a masculine face but not unpleasant to look upon. The black hair was the same liquid color of deepest night, slightly shaggy and unevenly cut.
"Stay back and give me your message," he said. "I do not know you and have no reason to trust you."
"As you will," the man said. "Jack of Blades has slain Thunder and Twinblade but both men weakened his power. He will never be weaker and more vulnerable than he is now. Storm journeys from the Barrow Fields to the Greatwood by way of the Darkwood Swamp. If you gate to the Darkwood Bordello, you can intercept him near the old alter."
"You're the Seer King of the Bandits," Blade said. "Have you seen this? Will I win if I face Storm today?"
"I am the Seer King no longer," Alain said. "I gave up my Vision for my eyes."
"But you saw that he would be there today."
Alain laughed. "So I did... but if I tell you that you'll lose, will you refuse to go?"
Blade smiled. "No... I'll go to prove you wrong."
"Then go. I'll meet you on the other side... if you win."
Weaver, the Master of the Guild, stood at the Map Table and gazed down at the painted valleys, forests, and rivers of Albion, traced his fingers over the great northern sea to Hook Coast and then further out to sea to Snowspire, a journey no one had made since Scythe left the guild over a decade before.
"How did it come to this," he whispered.
The Guild was falling to pieces around him. Thunder was dead. Thorn was dead. Sabre, Whisper, and Sparrowhawke had abandoned their Seals, following the Sorrowful Blade into Exile. Of the once mighty Guild, only Briar Rose and Blade remained active, with apprentices coming up behind them but precious few that would ever master Spell, Blade, and Stealth with sufficient skill to earn a Guild Seal. The castle seemed strangely empty and he felt the gazes of the black robed Guild Guards on him when he ventured out into the yard, questioning gazes, accusatory gazes.
"How can I fix this?"
Sabre was easy enough to find but there was no way to track Whisper, Sparrowhawke, or the Sorrowful Blade. Storm-Who-Was-Maze could never be welcomed back, not after what he had done, not after the lies he had told. How could he trust Maze again? He moved around the table, touching the castle that rose up in minature, an exact duplicate of the Guild Fortress.
"Is this the end of the Guild?"
It had been a rhetorical question but he received his answer: "Yes."
Weaver turned, hands at his sides, ready to unleash his magic. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped out of the shadows, dressed in dark leathers, worn and patched. A cloak shrouded him but he threw back the hood, letting the torchlight illuminate his features. "I am Alain of Oakvale, once the Seer King of the Bandits and brother to the Sorrowful Blade."
"So you survived, lad. We did not know."
"Twinblade saved me from Maze and Jack of Blades."
"Twinblade... saved..."
"Yes," Alain said, approaching the Map Table. "Maze framed Twinblade for those crimes and drove him out."
"But why?"
"Because Jack of Blades told him to." Alain moved around the table, his blue eyes cast downward. "He was always Jack's creature."
"You've Forseen the end of the Guild?"
"And your death, Weaver. They are tied together." The blue eyes rose to meet his gaze. "You will die tonight."
"How..."
"Jack of Blades is going to kill you and burn the castle."
Weaver went cold. "Why?"
"To destroy the Guild and to retrieve the Sword of Aeons."
Weaver's guts turned to water. "The sword... it's here?"
"It is but it won't be when Jack arrives. I've come for it."
"Will you use it to kill Jack?"
Alain of Oakvale shook his head slowly. "To use that sword, twisted and corrupted as it is, would be to become Jack. I will not use it. I will destroy it and take Avo's Tear instead."
"Avo's... you know where it is?"
"It is here as well." Alain of Oakvale looked upon him with something resembling pity. "They were both hidden here, in the Castle of the Archon."
"What will you do with it?"
"Make sure it gets to the person that will kill Jack of Blades and become Ruler of all Albion."
Weaver felt his knees growing weak. "Who?"
"It has not been decided yet."
Weaver could only stare as Alain of Oakvale walked away from him, descending into the library and towards the Chamber of Fate. He wanted to follow but could not. He felt iron resolve firm his spine and he looked around at the walls, at the marvelous tapestries and the ornate stands of armor.
"I must prepare," he said to himself.
And, hours later, with the foundation stones of the castle still trembling from the magic that had revealed and then destroyed the Sword of Aeons, with the tombs of the first heroes of the Guild still humming with the magic that had released Avo's Tear, the Guild Master stood alone in the castle, gazing upon the Map Table. He did not turn as the Cullis Gate flared to life, did not turn as armored boots rang off of the stones, one slow step at a time.
"It has been a long time, Weaver," Jack of Blades hissed.
"So it has, Jack. You've come to kill me."
"You're ready to die?"
"No," Weaver admitted, "but I am too tired to fight. Do as you will."
The Guild Castle was burning.
A column of black garbed Masters and white garbed Apprentices had brought the news when they passed through the gates into South Bowerstone, sending guards racing through town to pound on the doors of the Gray Manor. With Adelina just steps behind him, Sabre raced to the crossroads and stopped, gazing down the path at the Guild Fortress, his eyes following the column of smoke into the sky and then dropping to watch the flames consume the grounds.
"How could this have happened," Adelina cried.
"Jack of Blades," Sabre growled.
"This is my fault!"
He turned and grabbed her by the upper arms, shaking her once. "If we had been here, we'd all be dead."
He released her and faced the fire.
"What do we do now," she asked.
"We return to Bowerstone and organize the remnant," he answered. "We wait for Sparrowhawke, Whisper, and Blade to return."
"But..."
"I have something for you, sister," said a voice from behind them.
She turned and grabbed Sabre's wrist as his hand moved to his sword. Alain walked towards them, holding a sheathed sword in his hands, belt wrapped around the leather scabbard, holding it midblade. His eyes were unbound and clear blue.
"Your eyes," she said softly.
"Restored at the Temple of Avo." He held out his arms and she ran to embrace him. He smelled like smoke and leather and blood.
"What do we do now," she asked softly, her voice muffled against his chest.
"You have to make a choice," he said into her hair, so soft that only she could hear him.
He gently pushed her back and pressed the sword into her hands. She looked down at it, feeling the power that lived within the blade, thrumming and humming in her hands.
"What is this," she mouthed softly, her voice a hint on her breath.
"The sword of kings," he answered, brushing his fingers through her hair. "Avo's Tear. Whomever uses this sword to kill Jack of Blades will become the ruler of all of Albion. You and I have the bloodline but I don't have the training. This final battle, only you can decide who will fight it."
Dear angel, where are your warming wings tonight? It's so cold outside. Won't you hold me for a while? And angel, I feel alone and unalive. The night is frozen and these tears have stung my eyes.
|
|
-
05-17-2009, 0:53 |
-
05-17-2009, 1:06 |
-
05-17-2009, 1:10 |
-
05-17-2009, 1:21 |
-
05-17-2009, 2:01 |
-
05-17-2009, 23:19 |
-
05-18-2009, 15:26 |
-
05-18-2009, 18:30 |
|
|
I'm actually very surprised this story is coming to an end. Thought I'd never see the day. ![Wink [;)]](/emoticons/emotion-5.gif) Hope Blade doesn't die against Storm...if he does, I hope he deals enough damage to where Storm just bleeds out. Can't wait for the next part.
|
|
-
05-19-2009, 21:25 |
-
05-20-2009, 10:18 |
-
05-20-2009, 21:56 |
-
-
05-22-2009, 21:39 |
-
05-22-2009, 21:41 |
-
Marcasite
A Fallen One
-
-
-
Joined on 02-14-2007
-
Long Beach, California
-
Member
-
-
-
old karma : 11
-
|
Blade
perched in the twisted tree, shrouded in a mottled gray cloak, and
watched as Storm carved his way through the bandits and the hobbes that
infested the swamps. Breathing shallowly through his nose, he shifted
only a few inches, knocking the arrow, but he did not draw it. He
watched, his eyes locked on the tell-tale corona of light that meant
Storm was protected by a Physical Shield Spell. The last of the
bandits fell and the last hobbe, fleeing for its life, was felled by a
fork of lightning that linked Storm to the little monster for a split
second.
Wait for the moment.
Storm
lowered his hand and cast his gaze about, seeking any more enemies.
Apparently satisfied, Storm released the magical energies and his
shield disappeared, leaving a faint afterglow dancing in Blade's
vision. He waited a moment longer. Storm turned and swaggered to the
heavy gates that kept the bandits and hobbes from entering the grounds
of the Darkwood Bordello, calling to the guards on the other side.
Blade
drew the arrow, bringing the fletching level with his cheek and
sighting down the shaft. The tip, cruel black obsidion and smeared
with an insidious hallucinagenic drug made from the venom of a scorpion
and the powdered petals of a black lotus blossom, was centered right
between Storm's shoulder blades.
He waited.
The
heavy gates opened and Blade let the arrow fly. It sliced silently
through the fetid and dank air, thudding into Storm's back and lodging
deep in his flesh. Storm fell forward and the guards, shouting,
slammed the heavy gates shut. Concealed in the tree, Blade waited and,
once darkness began to fall, he threw off his cloak and climbed down
out of the tree.
Shouldering
his bow, he walked boldly towards the gate and banged his fist against
the plate. After a moment, the gate creaked open and he stepped into
the heavily perfumed garden of the Darkwood Bordello. He gazed upon
the statues, beautiful and erotic, as he walked up the cobbled path.
He paused near the lake and watched two slim young whores splash in the
water up to their knees, giggling and laughing for the delight of a
pair of dockworkers from Bowerstone. He continued up the path, his
eyes on the warm golden light spilling from the windows and the open
door of the bordello.
As he approached, he
loosened his sword in his sheath but did not draw it. He stepped up
onto the wide porch but no one came to greet him, no whores eager for
his gold. Muffled screams reached his ears and a hid his smile as he
entered the Bordello. Storm was on the floor, the whores holding him
down as the barkeep tried to cut the barbed arrow from his back.
Standing in the doorway, Blade looked down at Storm and let his hand
come to rest on the hilt of one of his swords. He approached from
behind the barkeep and knelt beside him.
"No, you'll only hurt him worse like that," Blade said. "You can't pull it out or cut it out."
Storm looked at him from over his shoulder, pale and feverish from the poison. Blade put a gentle hand on Storm's shoulder.
"This will hurt," Blade promised.
Storm nodded sharply. "Do it."
Blade gripped the
shaft and braced his free hand against Storm's... Maze's back. Taking
a breath, he twisted the arrow viciously and stabbed it through his
heart, the barbs scraping against the ribs. Maze kicked and gurgled
and died. Blade rose to his feet, looking at the stunned whores and
the spluttering barkeep. He dropped a handful of gold coins onto the
floor.
"This should cover the mess."
None of them spoke as he knelt beside the dead sorceror and looted his cooling corpse.
Crown him or kill him.
It seemed to Adelina
that the choice had been made long ago but she did not hand Avo's Tear
over to Sabre the moment her brother pressed the sword into her hands.
Now that she held the blade, now that the moment had come, now that the
fate of Albion hinged on her decision, she did not know what to do. If
she crowned him and gave him the sword, Sabre would be King of Albion.
She did not think he would be a king, not given the manner in
which he ruled Bowerstone. But if she killed him with Avo's Tear, she
would have to face Jack of Blades and, if she won, she would become
Queen of Albion.
Sabre was better than she was, always had been.
Standing at the
crossroads, looking at the path to the Greatwood, she weighed her
options and ignored Sabre as he watched her, leaning easily against the
fence that bordered the Bowerstone Park. It seemed a lifetime ago that
she had killed a Giant Wasp Queen here. She looked down at the sword
in her hands.
"If I give this to you, you'll become King of Albion," she said softly.
"If you give it to me," he said, just as softly."
"If," she repeated. "I don't know if I should."
"Why not," he asked, voice deadly soft.
"For what you did to me... and to Whisper... and even to the Lady Gray."
He chuckled. "And what did I do?"
"You made us your whores."
He laughed. "I never paid you."
That stung but it was
correct. He had never paid her and, even when he forced her as he had
on their trip to Bargate, she had welcomed him with open arms and open
legs. She had never denied him. She traced her fingers along the hilt
of Avo's Tear.
"If I refuse to give this to you," she asked, "would you take it from me?"
He straightened. "No... but I'll follow you and pick it up after Jack kills you."
That stung but it,
too, was correct. She weighed the sword in her hand and, after a long
moment of imagining what it would be like to wield it in battle, she
handed the sword over to Sabre.
"Just promise me that you'll be a king."
Holding Avo's Tear, he gazed upon her. "No... but I promise I'll be by you and yours. Is that enough?"
"It'll have to be."
There were no more
words between them as she watched him walk off down the path in search
of Jack of Blades. She returned to Bowerstone and took up her baby
brother into her arms, holding him and taking comfort in him. When
Sparrowhawke returned, she told him what she had done and weathered his
sudden fury, waiting for the calm and letting him apologize. When
Whisper arrived, she laughed and told Adelina and Sparrowhawke that all
there was left to do was wait for Sabre to return. Blade was more
pragmatic upon his return, entering Sabre's home with Alain and his
sorceress beside him, bringing news of Storm's death.
All she knew for certain was that she was with child and she did not know who the father was...
Dear angel, where are your warming wings tonight? It's so cold outside. Won't you hold me for a while? And angel, I feel alone and unalive. The night is frozen and these tears have stung my eyes.
|
|
-
-
05-23-2009, 2:36 |
-
countdowntoxmas
Sil Furyn
-
-
-
Joined on 10-03-2008
-
Melbourne, the city of undecided weather....
-
Senior Member
-
-
bjex2000
-
old karma : 0
-
|
aww I wanted Adelina and Sparrowhake to stay together... probably not gonna happen now...
job!
is next chapter the last?
1 year on the forums and counting! Get it? Counting? Oh never mind...
|
|
-
05-23-2009, 5:40 |
-
05-23-2009, 13:37 |
-
05-24-2009, 19:39 |
-
05-24-2009, 20:00 |
Page 11 of 12 (298 items)
... 11
|
|