Lightning flashes.
Its harsh light casting into stark relief a scene out of nightmare. Bound naked to a rough alter is a man, barely more than a youth, really. He is struggling madly against his bonds, although aside from where his struggles have rubbed his wrists and ankles raw, and a few splinters from the wooden alter, his body shows no signs of abuse from his captor.
His captor isn't far away. He's dressed in pitch black robes, his captor is kneeling, finishing a series of complex runes that form a circle around the alter. He seems immune to his captive's struggles, and by all appearances, is content to let the young man exhaust himself struggling against the ropes that hold him.
Finishing the last rune, the robed man stands and turns to the alter, a dagger that seems to be carved from a single large crystal in his hand. The dagger seems to glow with a pale light in the darkness. Immediately, the captive's struggles increase tenfold, and he begins to plead with his captor.
"Veldren, please... please let me go... by Erollisi, let me go.... please... Whatever you want, I'll give it to you..."
Its harsh light casting into stark relief a scene out of nightmare. Bound naked to a rough alter is a man, barely more than a youth, really. He is struggling madly against his bonds, although aside from where his struggles have rubbed his wrists and ankles raw, and a few splinters from the wooden alter, his body shows no signs of abuse from his captor.
His captor isn't far away. He's dressed in pitch black robes, his captor is kneeling, finishing a series of complex runes that form a circle around the alter. He seems immune to his captive's struggles, and by all appearances, is content to let the young man exhaust himself struggling against the ropes that hold him.
Finishing the last rune, the robed man stands and turns to the alter, a dagger that seems to be carved from a single large crystal in his hand. The dagger seems to glow with a pale light in the darkness. Immediately, the captive's struggles increase tenfold, and he begins to plead with his captor.
"Veldren, please... please let me go... by Erollisi, let me go.... please... Whatever you want, I'll give it to you..."
Veldren drops a holy symbol of Erollisi that had been mounted on a silver chain onto the man's chest. "Yes, you will." The man calms visibly
when his holy symbol comes in contact with his skin.
Veldren begins a complex, haunting chant. His voice has a hollow, distant sound to it. Dark figures seem to move at the edges of vision, only to vanish when one tries to focus on them.
Lightning flashes.
The thunder drowns out all sound as Veldren brings the knife down into his victim's heart. As the knife pierces flesh, Veldren collapses.
__________________________________________________________________
Reality twists, and everything I know shifts.
I'm floating. Looking down, I see the body of a young man. He's naked, and bound to a crude wooden alter, more a table than an alter, really. There is a crystalline dagger in his chest. It is buried so deeply there that only the handle, and maybe a thumbs breadth of the blade is visible. As I look at the scene, I get the feeling that I should be feeling something, but it is too eerie a scene to process fully, beyond noting that something about the body on the alter strikes me as familiar.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark form move towards me, but when I turn to face it, there is nothing there. On the ground, however, I notice another body. It is draped in black robes, just enough of the face is visible that I can tell it belongs to a man. His eyes are open, and are already beginning to glaze over in death, but they are still clear enough that I can see they would have been utterly black in life.
As I look at him, my memory comes flooding back to me in a torrent. That is me on the alter. I'm dead. Oddly, the thought that I am now a murder victim isn't unsettling to me.
I feel a pull. Not in any direction I can name, but I am pulled nonetheless. I follow the pull, although I can't say how, or why, I did so. As I do, the world around me blurs and twists, fading until it is gone entirely.
In it's place is an endless plain. In every direction, all that my eye can see is grass greener than any I've ever seen. It's dotted with wildflowers of every color and shape. The sky is impossibly blue, and there is not a cloud in the sky. There is no sun, either, but there is still light, just not the harsh light of day. The light that suffuses the plain is softer, hiding flaws and somehow making seem more complete, and more beautiful.
For some reason, all the beauty and serenity around makes me feel as though I am something dirty, a blight on this plain, marring the beauty of this place with my presence. I try to shrug it off, running my hand through my hair. I am shocked my what I see when I see my hand. It is coated in a thick, viscous, tar-like liquid that seems to absorb all light around it. I try to claw the vile liquid off, but my efforts prove futile.
Moments after I finally give up, the stuff turns to liquid and runs off me like water, leaving me clean and bare. The grime flows away from me, boiling and foaming. Slowly, it takes the form of a man in robes blacker than the tar that he formed from, his hood pulled down so it hides his face completely in shadows.
"What are you?" I keep any trace of fear from my voice, but only just.
"Why do you ask questions you really do not want the answer to?" His voice is a silken baritone, but there is something cold about his voice that sends a chill down my spine.
"Why are you here?" He doesn't answer. Silently, he turns his back on me, and walks away.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
He's here.
Every fiber of my being vibrates with the knowledge. It's as if a part of me I didn't know was missing had been returned to me, leaving me to deal with the pain of it's loss at the same time as I am dealing with the joy of it's return.
There he is. I can see him quite far away on the flat plain, his dark robes making him stand out from the luscious colors of the flowers and grasses. He is fading into and out of existence, and each time he returns, he is closer to me, so that in moments, he is standing in front of me.
A dark hood hides his face. Part of me is irritated that he would hide his face from me, so I reach out and push the hood back from his face.
He is pale. Not just the paleness that one acquires from not going out into the sun for long periods of time, but a nearly gray cast to his skin that only comes from exhaustion and blood loss. His eyes have changed too, they are now so deep a black that it is impossible to tell his pupil from his iris.
The changes bother me, they tell a story of hardship that I would do anything to change, but I can see the look in Veldren's eye that nothing has changed in his heart. "Beloved..." As he speaks, he touches my cheek, tentatively, as though afraid I would dissolve at his first touch. My eyes close as he leans forward to kiss me.
I open my eyes again when the expected kiss never comes. He's gone.
In moments, I've come full cycle, and the pain of loosing him is back, a dull ache that fills my heart and my mind. I savor it, for it is the touch of my Queen. The pain will be a mere memory in but a few moments. It won't stay long... no pain can in 'Paradise.'
________________________________________________________________________________
It's dark. The air reeks of stale sweat, decay, and something distinctly canine. The sound of moans and, farther off, the sounds of battle are ever present.
Veldren sat up, every inch of his body aching. Seconds later, he added the stench of vomit to the foul air as the last effects of his magic took their toll on his body.
More than a little irritated, Veldren took stock of his situation. His robes were gone, replaced by a coarsely woven loincloth that he assumed had been provided by a person other than his captors, who had presumably taken his robes, as well as anything else of value that he happened to have on his person at the time. More bothersome still, something had ended his spell early, and dragged him back to his body. The book hadn't said anything about that being possible.
The crack of a whip, and a sharp blossom of pain in his back, gave Veldren an outlet for his growing irritation. A brief incantation set his attackers blood boiling. A second ripped the soul from his attacker, reducing him to ash, as Veldren's wounds healed.
That taken care of, all Veldren had to do was find a way to the surface, and get free.
Veldren begins a complex, haunting chant. His voice has a hollow, distant sound to it. Dark figures seem to move at the edges of vision, only to vanish when one tries to focus on them.
Lightning flashes.
The thunder drowns out all sound as Veldren brings the knife down into his victim's heart. As the knife pierces flesh, Veldren collapses.
__________________________________________________________________
Reality twists, and everything I know shifts.
I'm floating. Looking down, I see the body of a young man. He's naked, and bound to a crude wooden alter, more a table than an alter, really. There is a crystalline dagger in his chest. It is buried so deeply there that only the handle, and maybe a thumbs breadth of the blade is visible. As I look at the scene, I get the feeling that I should be feeling something, but it is too eerie a scene to process fully, beyond noting that something about the body on the alter strikes me as familiar.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark form move towards me, but when I turn to face it, there is nothing there. On the ground, however, I notice another body. It is draped in black robes, just enough of the face is visible that I can tell it belongs to a man. His eyes are open, and are already beginning to glaze over in death, but they are still clear enough that I can see they would have been utterly black in life.
As I look at him, my memory comes flooding back to me in a torrent. That is me on the alter. I'm dead. Oddly, the thought that I am now a murder victim isn't unsettling to me.
I feel a pull. Not in any direction I can name, but I am pulled nonetheless. I follow the pull, although I can't say how, or why, I did so. As I do, the world around me blurs and twists, fading until it is gone entirely.
In it's place is an endless plain. In every direction, all that my eye can see is grass greener than any I've ever seen. It's dotted with wildflowers of every color and shape. The sky is impossibly blue, and there is not a cloud in the sky. There is no sun, either, but there is still light, just not the harsh light of day. The light that suffuses the plain is softer, hiding flaws and somehow making seem more complete, and more beautiful.
For some reason, all the beauty and serenity around makes me feel as though I am something dirty, a blight on this plain, marring the beauty of this place with my presence. I try to shrug it off, running my hand through my hair. I am shocked my what I see when I see my hand. It is coated in a thick, viscous, tar-like liquid that seems to absorb all light around it. I try to claw the vile liquid off, but my efforts prove futile.
Moments after I finally give up, the stuff turns to liquid and runs off me like water, leaving me clean and bare. The grime flows away from me, boiling and foaming. Slowly, it takes the form of a man in robes blacker than the tar that he formed from, his hood pulled down so it hides his face completely in shadows.
"What are you?" I keep any trace of fear from my voice, but only just.
"Why do you ask questions you really do not want the answer to?" His voice is a silken baritone, but there is something cold about his voice that sends a chill down my spine.
"Why are you here?" He doesn't answer. Silently, he turns his back on me, and walks away.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
He's here.
Every fiber of my being vibrates with the knowledge. It's as if a part of me I didn't know was missing had been returned to me, leaving me to deal with the pain of it's loss at the same time as I am dealing with the joy of it's return.
There he is. I can see him quite far away on the flat plain, his dark robes making him stand out from the luscious colors of the flowers and grasses. He is fading into and out of existence, and each time he returns, he is closer to me, so that in moments, he is standing in front of me.
A dark hood hides his face. Part of me is irritated that he would hide his face from me, so I reach out and push the hood back from his face.
He is pale. Not just the paleness that one acquires from not going out into the sun for long periods of time, but a nearly gray cast to his skin that only comes from exhaustion and blood loss. His eyes have changed too, they are now so deep a black that it is impossible to tell his pupil from his iris.
The changes bother me, they tell a story of hardship that I would do anything to change, but I can see the look in Veldren's eye that nothing has changed in his heart. "Beloved..." As he speaks, he touches my cheek, tentatively, as though afraid I would dissolve at his first touch. My eyes close as he leans forward to kiss me.
I open my eyes again when the expected kiss never comes. He's gone.
In moments, I've come full cycle, and the pain of loosing him is back, a dull ache that fills my heart and my mind. I savor it, for it is the touch of my Queen. The pain will be a mere memory in but a few moments. It won't stay long... no pain can in 'Paradise.'
________________________________________________________________________________
It's dark. The air reeks of stale sweat, decay, and something distinctly canine. The sound of moans and, farther off, the sounds of battle are ever present.
Veldren sat up, every inch of his body aching. Seconds later, he added the stench of vomit to the foul air as the last effects of his magic took their toll on his body.
More than a little irritated, Veldren took stock of his situation. His robes were gone, replaced by a coarsely woven loincloth that he assumed had been provided by a person other than his captors, who had presumably taken his robes, as well as anything else of value that he happened to have on his person at the time. More bothersome still, something had ended his spell early, and dragged him back to his body. The book hadn't said anything about that being possible.
The crack of a whip, and a sharp blossom of pain in his back, gave Veldren an outlet for his growing irritation. A brief incantation set his attackers blood boiling. A second ripped the soul from his attacker, reducing him to ash, as Veldren's wounds healed.
That taken care of, all Veldren had to do was find a way to the surface, and get free.
