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Varin's Seclusion


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#1 Taralom

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Posted 25 May 2009 - 02:35 PM

"Mom... Dad..." The young mage shook with both anger and grief. Rain poured down upon his already soaked robe. His own tears mixed with the tears from heaven and fell down to the earth. There was nothing left to fight for; he felt empty, as if he was hollowed out by a giant. His hands trembled because of the emotions he felt and his heart ached with the urge to follow the group that had held him from his revenge.
He slowly stood up, but a pain soared through his head and forced him back on the ground. He had been in the rain for too long. With a second effort, he rose up and started walking.
How does vengeance feel, magician? "Let me show you," he muttered.
You should come with us! And then? What would become of him? No, he travels alone.
It's gonna be dangerous. Parlous, you know. Perilous. Hazardous. Unsafe. Deadly. Potentially lethal. Jeopardous. His hand grabbed his sword, but he did not draw his weapon. He would be the one who would be deadly. "That I promise." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "We will see each other again. But not as friends, no, as enemies. I will have my revenge."
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#2 Taralom

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Posted 18 June 2009 - 10:43 AM

The day slowly passed, while he kept on walking, oblivious to the world. His legs became heavy as they continuously made an effort to increase the distance between him and the group he left behind. He checked his surroundings, his eyes focused upon the shadows that couldn’t leave him behind. Once more he raised his foot and stepped forward, with a bent back and his right hand on his chest, feeling the raised beating of his heart.
“Varin,” a cold voice whispered, “come with us. Follow our path.”
He shook his head. The tiny droplets of sweat fell noiselessly on the ground. “Never.” More words came to him, but couldn’t be formed by his sore throat. He turned around, straightened his back and raised his hand, calling upon the magic in his blood. Yet, nothing happened, and once more the shadows came to him. A dark silhouette of an ancient creature formed before his eyes. The cold, blue eyes met his, freezing him with its glare.
“Follow me, young magician. Your magic is a valuable tool for us.”
For one moment he was tempted, but something in his mind drew him back to his purpose. He tore himself loose from the creature’s grip and ran away. Yet, another silhouette formed before him, and stopped him with the soft, ice-cold touch of its hand. Varin fell down on his knees, powerless to stop the dark silhouettes. The short grass froze as the shadows came closer, surrounding him and approaching him carefully. He couldn’t resist them any longer. The first of the shadows silently stepped forward, while it’s dark robe willingly followed its movements.
“Surrender to us.”
“Y… Yes, I will surrender and do as you…” His breathing suddenly stopped. A strange energy befell him. He looked up and met the gaze of the creature with a fierce expression. “No, you will be the ones to follow commands. Your will and lives are mine to command!”
The silhouette of the creature stepped back. “What is this?”
Varin made an effort to get on his legs. “Surrender to my will,” he spoke while heavily panting.
All but the one silhouette in front of him disappeared. “We will never surrender, young mage,” it spoke. A sword, carved out of shadow, suddenly formed out of nowhere and was grabbed by the shadow. Varin grinned and unsheathed his own blade.
The two swords met and instantly the duel commenced. Varin stepped forward and attacked with a diagonal hack, blocked by the sword of shadows. Immediately the dark silhouette disappeared, to reappear behind the mage, stabbing in the direction of Varin’s back. Varin turned away from the deadly weapon and stroke the dark sword away. His free hand grabbed the shadow by the neck, holding it’s throat.
“Surrender, my nightmare,” Varin whispered. The shadow sighed and vanished, leaving the worn out Varin behind.

===

OOC: if someone edits, please notify me what, so i won't make the same mistakes again :p
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#3 Taralom

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Posted 01 July 2009 - 06:53 PM

Bugs, thousands of them, all coming to him, to eat him! To devour him! Varin tried to run, but the bugs were too fast, faster than he was. He tried to fight, but the bugs jumped away from his sword. He tried to use his magic, but the bugs were resistant to every attack he tried. Fireballs did not harm them, dark shrouds of magic did not consume them, even when they walked right into it. As Varin struggled to get further away, a panic befell him. What were these creatures? He cut his hand on the sharp edge of a rock and blood started to drip out the gash, leaving a red trail.
The woods had made place for a deserted, rocky landscape. The nights were cold and the days unbearably hot. He had heard some ticking noises for several days now, but he was now able to see the source. Thousands of small beetle-like bugs poured from every hole and crack in the brown landscape. Sometimes he could see their eyes, filled with a superhuman rage. Varin jumped of a small cliff and slid down the slope, surrounded by dust and falling pebbles. He looked up with a victorious smile, only to see how the bugs climbed down the cliff, like ants.
With his mind he grabbed a trail of dark energy from his surroundings and bent it to his will, the energy formed a ball in his hand and ignited with a blue flame, swiftly turning in the stable yellow. With a white flash he unleashed the powers in his hand, to incinerate the black horde, but without success. Their shields protected them from harm, something he had always considered impossible.
Ticking from behind. Startled he turned around. Bugs! Coming from behind! Was there no end to this torture? Was there an end to this madness?
“Die, you wicked beasts!” were the only words that came out of his screaming. Fire blazed around him, turning the ground black and incinerating the little plants that lived on this infertile land. But in the end, it was useless. For every bug he killed, three more came. It was hopeless. As he burst in tears, the bugs came ever more closer and swarmed over him, devouring both his flesh and soul.
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#4 Taralom

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Posted 29 July 2009 - 06:43 PM

Night had fallen and everything was dark. No light came between the trees of this thick forest. No skin of the creatures that wandered these godforsaken hills had seen the sparkling aura of the sun. White, blind creatures that mostly fed on their kin and species. White wolves haunted between the trees, searching for every source of food available. Yet, in the midst of this terror, a fire burned, granting the trees scarce light. Only one person sat by this fire, without company or friends close by. A mage, cloaked in pitch-black with a silver moon on his back. Magic sprouted of his fingers, which rapidly closed and opened, manipulating the fire that devoured the wood on which it was ignited.
The fire came to him, and for a moment formed a lady, gorgeous like a siren, only to disappear in an instant before his eyes.
“By the blood of all gods and demons,” Varin hissed. He formed a fist and disconnected with the fire. The invisible line of power snapped and the fire roared an instant.
It had been three days since he regained normal consciousness. The last week, or the gods may know how long it actually was, had gone by in a blur, with sudden flashes which he could remember. He could remember thousands of bugs, coming from everywhere, shadows that haunted him. Nothing else. He woke up in this wood, surrounded by strange, white beasts that lured at him with blind eyes. They were giant snails or other bugs. Cockroaches maybe. They did nothing while he stood up and stretched. Yet, the instant he started walking, all of them fled with huge speed, higher than their lesser kin could achieve.
Once more he tried to control the fire and again the fire formed the same gorgeous lady. With her fiery glaze she looked at him, frowned and raised her hand, to lure him closer to her. So he did. He bent over, came closer until he could look the tiny figure in her eyes. She gave him a blow kiss and winked at him, right at the moment that three fiery needles of the same fire that she was made of pierced through her body. She screamed, without sound, and fell to her knees, only to fall apart in fire and disappear as if she never existed.
Varin grinned. He grew better every day. It was only a matter of time until he could challenge the people who he had joined several weeks ago. When he had done so, he would have completed his revenge and prove that he was better than any. He would have proved he was better than Zhar, the mage who had broken him on the streets of the great citadel. Yes, he could not kill them all alone, but he could gather some fierce warriors who could tame the minotaur, make the beast bark like a dog. Then he would ignite the fur of the minotaur and watch how the devouring nature of the flames would destroy the being.
While he mused of the many ways of torture he could devise to kill the group, a sudden flash got in his mind. A fiery flames, engulfed by flaming hair. The woman who he created was no siren. Without knowing, he had created a woman of flames that resembled one of the leaders of the group: Theria.
“I have no feelings for her,” he whispered to himself. But the words weren’t convincing. “Do I?”
He remembered the time he first saw her. She was drunk. Very drunk, he might add. But there was no sign of love, not from him or her. The words of Gaurr haunted his mind. Love and hate are almost the same thing, and might confuse you. This was no love, he thought with relief, this was hate.
A sudden burst of power went through him. There was anger. Someone was angered and that was a source of power to him. It fed him, renewed the dark energy in his body. A vision of an idyllic village appeared before his eyes. Straw roofs, chicks freely moving around. A perfect target. It was about time to make a visit.
He summoned his power and bent it to his will. He turned away from the fire and faced his shadow. Slowly tiny tentacles rose from the dark void that before was his shadow. Tiny tentacles of dark matter that grabbed his feet and started working up. By the time they got to his knees, his feet were dematerializing to a dark fog. With a tensing of his muscles, he sped up the process. The fog engulfed him, hid him from the light, in which his entire body turned to the dark fog. A tricky technique, with many risks, but he succeeded. With a soundless motion, he took off and left the surface of the world. He was free to go where he wanted.
With incredible velocity he soared over the thick roof of leaves. Similar to a jellyfish he flew towards the source of the anger, a giant ball-like void, leaving behind dark trails of power, invisible to the eyes of those who did not expect it.

He landed smoothly and his body formed back at the moment his feet touched the grass. His eyes saw the houses, took up every detail of children playing, cattle grazing and elders enjoying the sun. Pathetic, he thought and he raised his hand. A ball of fire sprouted from his hand. For a moment the world went silent, right before he launched the magical sphere. The ball soared through the sky, leaving a grey trail of smoke. The eyes of the people went to the inferno that just seconds ago was a house and saw how the inhabitants ran out of the place, burning. Their eyes went to the forest, where a lone man steadily stepped forward to their village. A new fireball sprouted in his hand, which he fired at the startled cattle, trapped in between the wooden fences. Their world exploded in fire and took their lives and flesh. Nothing was left to remember the beasts by.
Several men mounted a defense, but it was useless. The anger was so strong, fed him with so much power, that he had to use the magic that screamed in his veins. The men hid behind their broad shields, but could not see that what the mage did. Their own shadows ripped themselves loose from the ground and broke their necks with relative ease. They dropped down and did not move anymore.
Varin stepped over the dead bodies, kicking the head of one of them on purpose. The screaming of women made him stronger, and not because of the sound, but because of the emotion that they radiated. He used those feelings and turned them into the dark energy that he could bend to his will. He entered the centre of the village, with burning buildings behind him. Carts where hastily abandoned, with the precious wares still packed. The local smith had not even taken his swords out of the roaring fire, which the mage easily manipulated. With a smooth motion, he connected with the fire and sent it around the plaza, where the flames ignited every straw roof that it came in contact with. All buildings burned and the sky was red and black of smoke and the light of fire. All buildings burned but one, the one with the source of the anger. Varin renewed the power within his veins and entered. It was a tiny house, not meant for living, but to hold people captive. A tiny cell was built and someone inside was asking the standard questions.
“Who is there?”
“Does it matter?” Varin replied. He took the keys of a tiny hook and stepped to the door.
“Yes, it does! What is happening?” The voice was deep and not used to the terror that the captive was experiencing. It was a man.
As Varin stuck the key in the lock of the door, he spoke: “Short answer? The village is burning.”
“Burning? Who did that? You?”
The door swung open and revealed a broad man, with manes of brown hair. “I might,” Varin grinned. He rose his hand and fire sprouted from his fingers. The man did not move. Just as Varin wanted to kill the man, a strange feeling befell him. He wavered. Mercy. He lowered his hand. “By the blood of… Get out of there. You might prove usefull. The smith still has some swords, so get yourself outfitted for the journey that lies ahead.”
“Journey?” the man asked with a frown.
“Yes, we are going to travel. A lot, I might add. So get yourself outfitted, and to greater extent, get yourself outfitted to fight.”
The man smiled. “We are going to fight?” he asked in vain.
Varin rolled with his eyes. “No, were going to feed the animals. Now get moving.”
The man nodded and stepped out of the cell. He wanted to leave the building, but stopped and turned to the mage. “On a side note, my name is Azuvas. Azuvas Eldin.”

====

ah, 1528 words in total. Enjoy!
And, uh, please tell me what you think. I hope I've got the right style now.
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#5 Copaman

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Posted 30 July 2009 - 01:07 AM

Who is Azuvas?

/threadjack.

Posted Image

 

If you meet me:

Have some courtesy,

Have some sympathy,

And some taste.

Use all your well-learned politesse,

Or I'll lay your soul to waste.


#6 Taralom

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Posted 30 July 2009 - 08:56 AM

How about I leave that for the next post :mellow:

And I don't mind the hijack. It's what I wanted in the first place xD

Edited by Taralom, 30 July 2009 - 08:57 AM.

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#7 Taralom

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Posted 02 August 2009 - 06:12 PM

The road dragged along the side of the forest to regions far away, beyond the sight of the two travelers. Varin managed to obtain a mount, a big, brown steed with an ill temper. Azuvas found himself a grey mount that was willing to obey to his every order. Varin’s companion found himself a broad, two-handed sword, that was ideal for his build. The man was a huge, imposing sight, topped with white-coloured hair: a feature of what he said was something that ran in the family. His blue eyes gave him a stunning gaze, capable of piercing through anyone.
“So, what’s your story?” the man asked with a smile.
“Story?” Varin repeated, not in the mood to answer these kind of questions.
“Yeah. Why do you travel? Where are you from? Those things.”
Varin sighed. “I am travelling because I was told to investigate a happening that affected my parents. They were presumed dead and I was sent to check if the rumours where true. They were, and I followed the mercenaries who did it.”
“And you stumbled upon that village,” Azuvas wrongly assumed.
“Er, yes, I did.”
“Well, that’s fine, I guess. Sorry about your loss, though.”
“I got over it, don’t worry.”
Azuvas just nodded. He looked over his shoulder to the trails of smoke that marked the destruction that they had left behind that morning. “I do disagree with the way you entered that village.”
Varin sighed. “I’ve got no business with your disapproval.”
Azuvas’s piercing gaze tried to read his mind, but with an invisible and perhaps a bit too strong ripple of magic Varin pushed his gaze away. “Listen, magician,” Azuvas spoke, “I have no idea why you came to rescue me, nor why you left me alive, nor why I have to travel with you, but if we are travelling together, I want some answers.”
Varin stopped his mount, that whinnied in fright. His eyes turned purple, the stain of magic, and with a burst of magic, he took control of Azuvas’s will. “You are mine to command,” Varin said with a darkened voice. “You make cookies if I want you to make cookies. You prepare our steeds if I say so. You die if I say you must die. That is all you need to know now. Is that clear?” Azuvas nodded, the only action he had left. Varin sent an unexpected pain his way. “And that is so you will remember it.”
====

not as good as i wanted it to be... :p

Edited by Taralom, 03 August 2009 - 06:10 PM.

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#8 Taralom

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Posted 01 September 2009 - 07:30 PM

Seen the timespan, Varin thought that he and Azuvas made good progress for the day. He felt that they had travelled enough for one day and decided to make camp, at the edge of the forest in which he awoke earlier. Azuvas went out to get some wood to light a fire, while Varin went to a small creek and started fishing with a rod, but without any bait. However, he was able to cast a simple illusion of a worm, tricking the fish. Within a few minutes he caught several fishes, decapitated them and made sure that they were not ill or infected.
While he was at his job, he was thinking about what had happened to him since the day he had left the mesa of Umbar. First he had to fight to protect his home village, just to follow the assailants when the battle was about to end. He pursued them, with the help of the mercenaries, all the way to Anharad, the great Citadel, where he met the group led by Theria. Inexplicably, he felt a sudden wave of rage, mingled with compassion and guilt coursing through him. Then he travelled with the group, still in pursuit of the mercenaries, the murderers. On the road to Valix, they ambushed the murderers, did to them what they did to Varin’s parents. But he could not get rid of the feeling that he needed vengeance. He was not strong enough to challenge the group, yet. But that would come with time. And Zhar would be first for besmirching Varin’s honour by beating him.
But how could he do what he had to do? He had no power to speak of, no more talent than a regular scholar of Umbar and no more mentor. Gaurr had left him by now, since the word of his madness probably got out by now. That is, if Theria’s group would have mentioned it. Was there any way that they could or even would tell somebody at Valix about him? The odds were in his favour.
A memory suddenly occurred to him. But the massacre at the town, of which he still did not know the name, would surely be noticed by now. Then again, the question was if it was found out that he was responsible. He reasoned that he had a fifty-fifty percent chance that it would be found out that he was responsible or not. They would or they would not, he thought with a sly grin.
He took the fish with him and went back to the campsite, where Azuvas had just been able to get a fire going.
“Ah, master, good to have you here.”
Varin raised an eyebrow, as he handed the fish to Azuvas. “Master? Why do you call me master?”
“Are you not?” Azuvas asked with a smirk on his face. “You got me out of that jail, after all.”
“Does that make me your master?” Varin did not wait for Azuvas to reply. “No. At the moment, you’re just junk that might prove useful to me. So quit calling me your master, since I am not.”
Azuvas looked up astonished. He opened his mouth to reply, but one of Varin’s furious looks made him shut it again. Clearly against his will, he started smoking the fish.
Time passed as the stars slowly turned around in the sky. The moon rose slightly above the horizon and gave them enough light to see the most basic things. Azuvas handed him the first of the fishes, and though it was a bit blackened Varin ate it, while looking at the stars.
Azuvas lent back against a tree stump. “So what are your goals?”
“Goals?”
“Yeah, goals. What do you want to do? I have to follow you, after all.”
Varin shook his head, though Azuvas could not see that in the dim light. “I have no goals, at the moment.”
“Really? Then, what were your goals before you stumbled upon Yewstone?”
Varin frowned. “Yewstone? The village I burnt down?”
“Yes, Yewstone.”
“Vengeance.”
Azuvas hesitated for a moment, before continuing the load of questions. “What vengeance?”
“Listen, my parents were murdered.” Varin told him the story in short, but left some crucial details, such as madness out on purpose.
Azuvas nodded, as if he could ever understand what the mage felt. “So, what now? Do you still want vengeance?”
“Yes,” was the only answer Varin could give.
“On who?”
Varin already feared that question, for he could supply the man with a good answer. “I don’t know anymore.”
“You do not ‘know’?” Azuvas repeated in astonishment. “How can you not know? If you want vengeance, then you want to kill someone. Who do you want to kill?”
“I do not know anymore, okay?” Varin shouted back.
“Fine, so you want to kill someone! Just a man whose fate turned out to walk into you. You had a bad day and kill him. Well, that’s nice.”
“Shut up in the name of the nameless!”
“Not until I get a satisfying answer.”
Varin calmed down. He had to give an answer. He sighed, knowing that he had become a mindless fool. “I want to kill Theria Moriarty and her group, for taking my revenge away from me. I wanted to kill each and every one of those godforsaken mercenaries. Yet, they stole my revenge from me. I will spare no one of them. Zhar, on the other hand, is a different case. I swore to destroy him, the moment he blasted me on the street.” His eyes lit up for a moment, while they stared in the fire. “And I will.”
Azuvas was satisfied by this answer. Slowly but surely he started to understand the one who got him out of that jail. A silence fell over the camp.
“Azuvas, what is this forest?”
The man woke up from his dozing and looked to the mage. “The name of this forest is Maandarn, it spreads over the continent and is said to be huge. Rumor goes that strange species live in the middle of it. Huge bugs, so they say.”
“I can confirm that last bit,” Varin said, remembering the time he woke up in the middle of the forest.
“Towns like Yewstone exist because of the rare berries that grow in the woods. In the forest, in the shadow of the trees, grow these berries that the natives call Hau’in and is said to be a delicacy. The price of one of those berries is about ten, maybe fifteen lumps of unrefined gold.”
Varin looked in the direction of the trees, hoping to see one of those berry plants nearby. “So, what about you?”
Azuvas acted as if he did not understand what Varin said and ignored the question. With a snore he made clear that he wanted to sleep. Varin let him be, knowing that as soon as the man slept, he would get his information.
The moon rose, but Azuvas did not sleep deep enough until the shining disk in the sky reached its highest point. Then, suddenly, Azuvas started to snore, alerting Varin that his time had come. He crawled closer, making sure he did not awaken the man. He gently placed his fingers on either side of Azuvas’ head, stroking the long, brown hair away, while his fingertips started to emit a purple glow. The mage closed his eyes, and thousands of images, absorbed from Azuvas’ memory entered his mind, granting him all the knowledge he needed to know, and some things he did not want to know. He broke his connection and smiled down upon the man.
“Well, well, who could have thought that you were a murderer?” he softly spoke. He then turned away and tried to get some rest. Things were looking up, finally.

====

muahahaha! A mere 1302 words and I like it. Tell me what you think of it :p
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#9 {IRS}Athos

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Posted 01 September 2009 - 09:24 PM

((Wanting to kill Theria and all of her companions is harsh... but you know, if Rindar and Tom don't start getting along soon, Rindar might actually give you some help with that. :p))
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#10 Taralom

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Posted 19 September 2009 - 03:26 PM

“There it is,” Varin spoke with a sense of respect, “the mesa of Umbar. In other words: my home.”
“I thought you defected from it,” Azuvas muttered.
The two of them stood hidden between some rocky outcrops, watching the mesa as several traders made their way to the stronghold and entered after a thorough search. Varin never noticed the defense of the Mesa, until this day. He couldn’t do this alone.
With a sigh he walked away. Was this the end of his travels?
“What’s the matter?” Azuvas asked with a raised eyebrow.
Varin stood still in his tracks and his gaze slowly slid over the horizon. “Nothing. It’s just that it feels that I’ve failed in my intentions. I hoped I could enter the mesa, find Gaurr and be able to get stronger out of that encounter. Now it seems that I can’t.”
“You cannot?” Azuvas sat down and opened his arms in a dramatic manner. “By the gods, that’s just great! I travel with a messed-up mage all the way to his home and there he wants to leave because he does not have the strength to go on.”
The next instant his cloak caught fire, lit by the magic that Varin casted. Azuvas shrieked and ran away to a nearby creek to extinguish the flames.
“Damn you, murderer,” Varin whispered, though Azuvas was right. He could not attack the mesa. It’s many defenses made it impossible to achieve victory, though he had the advantage of not having to watch over his companions. True, there was Azuvas, but he could leave the murderer behind, seen his skills with a sword. Then he would be able to burst in the mesa and throw spells and curses all over: there was no one he wouldn’t want to hit.
Yet, the mesa had a formidable guard. Shooting holes were carved out in the rock, leaving any assault open for arrow volleys. The steel gate was a deathtrap itself, seen the fact that one would need the strength of a god to open it. Then there were the entrance halls, long and wide with at the end a tiny doorway that served as a bottleneck, the perfect place for a counter assault. He would stand no chance until he would reach the doorway, but he’d be killed by then. And even if he survived to the very end, he would be killed by the masters, since he would be too fatigued by the time he would get to them. It was hopeless.
Azuvas came back, complaining about split personalities, fire, mages, a beer and for some reason a monkey. Varin paid no attention and observed the mesa once more. It was a hopeless cause. But there had to be a way. Were there no gods that would help him? Were there no deities that would help him in trade for his soul?
“Do not move,” a deep voice whispered in his ear. A blade was put against his neck.
Varin did what the newcomer told him to do. “I sensed your presence over an hour ago, as you did with mine.”
“And yet you let us sneak into your camp and capture your friend.” Azuvas was brought next to Varin and looked up to him with fear. He did not understand what was happening. “Why, may I ask, mage of Umbar?”
“My name is Varin Rax, and I have defected Umbar, Paladin. And I have an offer for you and your men.”
“An offer? Tell me, mage.”
“First you’ll let me and my friend go. I will not be harmed.”
“And your friend?”
“Kill him if you feel like it.”
“What in…” yelled Azuvas in despair.
“Fine, mage, if that is how you want it.”
Three paladins emerged from the side of Varin’s eyesight and approached Azuvas with drawn swords. Azuvas tried to get loose, but the Paladin holding him was stronger than he was. At the very moment that the paladins tried to stab him to death, three shades, darker than shadow and night, arose from out of nowhere and deflected the swords with their own weapons. A fourth one emerged and grabbed the Paladin that was holding Varin. The Paladin let loose of the mage, as the control over his body faded away with the touch of the shade. Varin turned around and saw the extent of the party of paladins. Over fifty men, cloaked in white with hoods, looked sternly at him.
Varin snapped his fingers and the shades disappeared. “Now that we are on even terms, we will talk.”
The paladin that was holding him threw back his hood. He had long, grey hair that made him look like a noble, together with a beard that surrounded his mouth. His grey eyes seemed to pierce trough rock. “Even terms?” he repeated. “You are outnumbered.”
Varin smiled. “True, but you will not reject my proposal.”
If the above post offended you in any way,
please take note that, until further notice, I don't care, so get lost.

#11 Taralom

Taralom

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Posted 12 October 2009 - 07:51 PM

The air reeked of blood and the litter of the dead that lay all around. The sun, as ferocious as ever in these parts, shone down upon the ravaged lands, lightening up even the dark spots, where body parts where slung into by the power of magic. On the field in front of the mesa lay the dead, numerous and severed. Among them men were crawling, with pounding hearts, trying to evade the chaos that had ignited just a few hours earlier. No attention was paid to them, for the mesa itself was about to be sacked by the Palatinate. Wounded citizens, innocents and soldiers had taken refuge behind its walls, but the remainder of the Umbar forces were doomed. They knew this, for they were outnumbered by the Paladins, whose main weapon against Umbar, a betrayer, had recovered from the use of his illusion magic.
The jaw of the dead mage in front of him was hanging loosely around the rest of the face, yawning at Varin while he pulled up his robe and stepped over the body. His nose nearly ached due to the overwhelming stench. Litter, blood, litter and rot were all he smelled. Death must’ve had a busy day, he noticed with a wry smile.
His gaze focused upon the burning remains of the once so mighty gate. Among it lay dozen of Paladins, decapitated by the Umbarians. Yet, the paladins where victorious in the end. The slaughter was enormous and Varin had quite a lot to do with that. His magic had improved. The illusions he could cast where that severe that they threw the victim in a rage of despair, killing friend and foe alike. Then, with a single twist of his hand, Varin could end the misery, since he had already made a magical connection with his target. The Paladin that had captured him, going by the name of George, had muttered that his strange power was abnormal in the Umbar ranks. Fire was their element, destruction, not the obliteration of the mind.
The Paladins, clad in their white cloaks and shiny silver armor, joined him in his march to the gate. A tiny spick of black among the line of white was all that he was. Yet, Umbar had gotten to fear him. A barren wasteland, filled by the dead, was all that the paladins left in their assault.
A familiar man, with clothed blood in his long, black manes of hair, joined him. Varin nodded towards Azuvas, whom he started to respect. Azuvas had fought for three days, with only little periods of rest. He had slain more enemies than most paladin mages. The white of his eyes had turned red, giving him a wild appearance while he simply carved through his foes with his newly acquired two-handed sword.
“Any last moment news?” Varin asked. George was close and could easily hear them, and thus made no attempt to get closer.
“They have retreated to the second hall. The gate is damaged but stands. Those cowards stand no chance. We have killed their strongest already. Borgen, Namerat and Foren have been killed in these last three days, the latter by yours truly.”
The three mages where the students of which the mesa was most proud of, but now all that remained where there crucified corpses. The palatinate was harsh for the fallen.
“Good,” said Varin softly. “Ensure the survival of no one. George?”
George came closer. The right side of his head was covered in bandages. An arrow nearly struck him, but he would earn a nasty scar because of it. “Speak.”
“I will challenge the Head Master myself. I will tolerate no interruption.”
George eyes flickered for a moment. “Fine.” He did not speak much against Varin and seemed almost relieved that Varin would most certainly die by the hands of the First.
Varin looked away from the man and focused on the mesa in front of him. They passed through the remains of the once tall gate and entered the first hallway, where the spirits of hundreds of militia, led by the magi of Umbar, had left their bodies and passed away. From beyond the grave, their untouchable eyes followed the trail of death that the palatinate left.
A hand arose among the many dead and two Paladins immediately dashed forward with amazing speed. Their swords flickered in the light of the torches and were immediately sheathed once again, while the hard fell motionless back to the ground and the dying grasp of a man was heard.
The end of your travels has come, young magician, a voice whispered in his ear. Varin looked to the direction of the sound, but nothing was there. The first master, he concluded.
Your conclusion is correct. I am speaking to you through your mind, young one. You have deserted us, slain our people, murdered innocents. Is this how you repay us? Is this how you reward us for showing you the path? You have allied yourself with the Palatinate, our sworn enemies. You seek revenge for something we have not done. How can you have done this? We have guided you on your road to power, shown you a way around the teachings of these vile Paladins. If this is how you wish to thank us, then you are not worthy of calling yourself an Umbarian any longer.
Varin grinned. He couldn’t send any words through the connection, but he was able to send an emotion. He felt his anger taking control of his body, his hands started to shake with a desire to kill. When he closed his eyes, the feeling became stronger, more powerful, until the moment he could feel the connection snap. But right before the connection was severed, he could see an image of the Supreme master falling off his chair in the great hall.
He opened his eyes again. He stood in front of the second gate, damaged and blunted. George called the paladins together and yelled: “Men, this puny gate is all that stands between us and the rest of this pathetic lot! Destroy it!”
Men shouted their war cries and gathered energy in their fists, until the flesh started to glow in a bright, blueish light. At one specific moment, all of them opened their fists and unleashed a power that Varin had never seen before. Bright rays of light crushed the gate, splintering it and sending it backwards. Screams could be heard coming from underneath the shattered remains of the gate. What power, Varin thought, the Paladins are a fearsome foe.
Immediately, the bloodthirsty Paladins dashed forward, trampling all around them. However, they did leave an opening in their assault, meant only for Varin, as he climbed over the shattered remains of the gate and walked into the great hall.
“How come such a promising young mage could fall so deeply?” The supreme master arose from his meditation and slowly turned around. The cloak of an old man had fallen off him and this was who he really was all these years: the most powerful mage in these parts. He had a strong build and long black hair, that fell like a waterfall around his face. A stern look was seen in his green eyes, one that never knew happiness.
Varin stepped forward. “The world is changing, supreme master. Your body did too, even though you have taken a new one.”
The supreme master smiled. “Very good observation. The fourth was useless anyways. Now his body serves some use.”
“Where is Gaurr? Is he here?”
The supreme master shook his… the fourth’s head. “Gaurr is sent on a mission. Head east and you will encounter his trail. I’m sure of it.”
Varin closed his eyes. His betrayal was for naught. “And now?” he asked while opening his eyes again.
The supreme master laughed, as if possessed. “I have escaped death several times. Fighting me won’t help.”
“It’s not your death that I want.”
The eyes of the supreme master flickered. “Really?” He rose his fist and a surge of fire engulfed him. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Varin grinned. His mind immediately connected with that of the first, casting an illusion of himself. Several shades arose from the shadows, armed with two-handed swords, and started approaching the supreme master. The supreme master, in turn, reacted. He clapped his hands together, but instead of an overwhelming attack, his body went limp. He sank to the ground and laid still.
Betrayal is not tolerated, Varin, you will be hunted by Umbar, the voice of the first whispered and disappeared, never to be heard again in the halls of the Mesa.
Varin ran towards the lifeless body and opened the eyes of the fallen master. Grey eyes stared into nothing. The fourth was dead.

===

Bah, if only I could write this in dutch... :unsure:

((VORT: OK, I'm going to have to run interference here. I have plans for both the Umbar and the surviving Paladins, although it will in fact help both now that their numbers are somewhat depleted. And you're welcome to remain on the side of the bad guys if you want, it'll be more fun that way. Anyway, the stronghold of the Umbar is the citadel under construction in the centre of Anvar, but that is not where this took place. You ambushed the Umbar leaders somewhere else so you didn't have to smash through the fortress, which still stands, as does the order of the Umbar. They'll replace the Seven (their leaders), and carry on hating the Paladins. You do not have permission to wipe them out. Yet. :good:))
If the above post offended you in any way,
please take note that, until further notice, I don't care, so get lost.




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