Please enjoy the stories herein.

The newest stories will be posted at the top of the page, the older RP stories can be found by scrolling down.

I have been having some issues with the layout of this page. If some of the text seems unreadable just highlight the paragraph with the cursor and it should clear it.

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The following is a look from different toons perspective of How Shadowraethe became Shadowraethe, and how Killzum escaped Freeport to form a new life in Qeynos. Unfortunately, all was not plain sailing for any of them with Shahlai Vah’Khan, Vengeance Seeker lurking in the wings….

((The stories are split up in to the order in which they were originally posted on the Guilds Website that he was in at the time (Fellowship of the Dragon- a wonderful bunch btw). They are all penned by myself. ))

New Begginings for an Old Troll

It was a busy night in the Inn. Visibility was low as heavy smoke filled the room, both from the large fireplaces and the many pipes of tabac that seemed to be as popular as ever. Loud raucous conversation occasionally paused just enough to give way to whispered murmurings in the shadows. In a dark corner of the Blood Haze hid a monster. Huge in form, a powerful figure slumped up the back wall, his armour digging even larger chunks out of the already failing plaster. The red skinned troll hung his head, the massive sharp toothed chin resting on his chest. Lost in misery, Count Killzum of Freeport was unaware he was being watched. She had been watching him for days.

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1 week ago…………..Maj’Dul.
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Archduchess Astarte’s pale eyes idly watched the swirls of sand in the breeze as they gathered in to miniature dunes in the corners of the street. Waiting for the street vendor to finish measuring her cloth, her mind wandered, fixing on one word ‘Balance’. For just under one Norrathian year now she had been existing in the reanimated corpse of the Half Elven form she wore, working towards her goal.

A hollow voice ignored her comment and from skeletal teeth whispered on the breeze back toward Astarte,“You have problems my Queen….there is one….a cat of the shadows….her plans disrupt yours…of the line of Vah’Khan. Her name is Shahlai, an assassin by trade”, finishing, Baal’s skeletal arm extended holding a blood red parchment out to Astarte. Even as she took it the form of Baal faded, once again becoming the gentle breeze.Later, lounging upon cushions of fine silk Archduchess Astarte had finished reading the parchment and again her mind focused upon balance. It seemed the assassin had slaughtered a family of hairy feet. Not normally a problem one would imagine, she thought. But in this case, one had been a close advisor of Antonia Bayle.

Astarte now had another problem. Having re-addressed the balance between the two cities to some extent it had become unbalanced once more. Reeling in shock and remorse for her advisor, the soft hearted Bayle and her city would be vulnerable for a time. This upset the balance. A balance that Astarte had worked relentlessly to establish. Now another word formed upon her black mind. Vengeance.………………………………………………………………………………………

It had not taken long to find Shahlai Vah’Khan. Living in riches in the Northern quarter of Freeport. It seemed she was somewhat of a mysterious celebrity amongst her neighbours. It had also taken very little time to work out that she depended extremely heavily upon the strong arm of her operation. A huge, ugly and imposing figure of a Troll. A Count of the city. Twisted by Vah’Khans mind games to her own ends. A troll by the name of Killzum. It took Archduchess Astarte even less time to realise her move in to vengeance, and how she would accomplish both revenge up on the meddling kerran and, perhaps only a little, help to move back towards balance between the two cities. She would find the troll a new home. As luck would have it Astarte knew the perfect place……….

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Belching loudly, Count Killzum miserably raised his blurred gaze from the floor as he heard something being placed on the table in front of him. Struggling to focus through the alcohol and haze in the room his eyes fell up on beauty, in the form of a Half Elf. She was smiling at him, but was silent.“ Yuuz wunts whut?” Killzum grumbled at her, swigging from his flagon and in the process spilling a goodly amount on his lap.“It is more about what you want Count Killzum of Freeport.” She replied.“Meez no wunts da cluvurs..meez is sads..und mez eats yuuz iv yuuz dunts leevs meez” Killzums voice began to rise in to a loud rumble, his displeasure more than evident.It was then when he glanced at the table to see the object that had been placed there. A crystal, pure and white. Poking it with his finger it moved slightly rolling in to a puddle of ale.“Whuts dat den…prutty it iz”. He asked the stranger who had been sitting silently in front of him.“Your new life” is all she replied as she gently placed an ice cold hand on top of his, and his mind swam and his world fell apart.

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Lost in images of red and black, Killzum swam through mists of blood and saw faces. Faces he thought he had forgotten. The faces of those he had slaughtered over the years under the Vah’Khans insistence……..and he felt their pain……and their loss.

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The bellowing scream drew looks from all in the Inn as Count Killzum stood, knocking the table in front of him over, the vision now ended. The strange Half Elf was gone and as he looked around at the staring faces a glint caught his eye. The crystal. Stooping to pick it up from where it had fallen when he had upturned the table, Count Killzum stumbled out of the Blood Haze and in to the fresh night air. He did not know how, but he knew what the crystal was for, and how it worked. Raising it to his ear he spoke…”Ullo?”

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For the first time he could remember, Count Killzum felt giddy with glee as he strapped the last pack on to his horses saddle. Easily vaulting up on to the huge creatures back he gently urged the mount forward,“ Move hurrsee, weez a gun tuuz nuw home!”.As he cleared the gates of Freeport, Count Killzum couldn’t help laughing as he kicked his horse into a gallop, feeling free.From the shadows of the gate house, she watched him. And smiled.

 

 What’s in a Name?

Flames danced merrily in the hearth casting a warm orange glow on the mossy walls of the tower.  The fire’s chimney long needing repair, sent a fair amount of smoke back in to the part ruined tower’s main room. Gathering in hazy layers, the smoke only served to make the glow from the flames appear all the more cozy. Stretched out on her saddle blanket to guard against the cold floor, Archduchess Astarte lay back, her head resting on the saddle itself.  Mesmerised by swirls of orange smoke above her, she let her mind relax. 

A breeze from one of many holes in the brickwork moved the dancing smoke above her into untold patterns, her pale eyes glazing over as the hypnotic fiery swirls became faster and more pronounced, seeming more solid.  A voice like gravel cut through the mists clouding her mind.“Queen Astarte. It seems even your dreams carry you home. Missing us?”Astarte, shook her head realising only now that the apparitions of dancing flames were indeed now a reality. She was home. She was back in Hell.  Despite the almost agonising heat, her leathery skin of her demonic form rippled with pleasure at the prospect of being back.  Still lying down she propped herself up on her horned elbows and looked back over her shoulder towards the voice.

“You brought yourself back Queen of the Dead. I certainly did not summon you.  I have not the inclination nor the time to mess with summonings of Demons as annoying as you.”
 
Astarte inwardly smiled at her Kings ability to turn most statements in to an insult.  He had not summoned her, as she freely summoned him to the lands of Norrath without a moments thought.

“To answer your question. Yes, you are back home.  However, this was of your own doing Astarte. As I said, I am beggining to think that you miss us” Zagan  smirked down at her.

Rolling over, Astarte stood. Rolling her shoulders, her own wings of leather pulled tight across twisted bone unfolded, flapping briefly as if stretching.

“That feels good!” she exclaimed flapping her wings one more time before folding them again.

“So why did I bring myself back King?” she mused, knowing her duties upon Norrath had not yet ended. “there must be reason enough”.

“There could be many reasons as you well know.  If it is a definitive answer you are after, I shall call for the Hag”. Motioning his clawed hand towards a lesser demon who awaited his Kings bidding, Zagan added,
“Fetch the Hag, Dormunucles, we have need of her wisdom”. 

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Astarte could not help it. For some reason she had tried to hold the laughter in, though she knew not why.  As the bloodied and burnt form of the Hag writhed in agony on the cradle that had carried her tormented soul to them.  Failing, or not wanting to hold the laughter in further, peels of the hollow sound echoed off the walls.

“What mean you pitiful Hag?  My quest is done? I have barely started in establishing a workable equilibrium between the two cities. Your mind has truly snapped this time”

Through screams of agony The Hag spat back at Astarte,

“Your path crossed with a Vengeance Seeker, Queen.  From that moment on your fate did change”

Slashing a razor sharp claw across one of the Hags eyes with alarming speed Astarte turned,

“What do you mean, The Vengeance Seeker? Who is this you talk of?” Astarte growled though her fanged teeth at the Hag, fresh blood now streaming down her face.

“Shalai Vah’Khan.  You took your vengeance out …on one of the mythical Vengeance Seekers..the irony is simply worth all the pain and suffering you lot have visited upon me!” the Hag now laughing crazily to herself.

“You mean when I stole her slave from her? That dumb creature Count Killzum? I see not the significance. So what if I did? I sent him on to a new life in Qeynos.  I really do not understand the reasons for your hilarity Hag, especially considering your position”

Cackling almost hysterically now the Hag struggled to speak,

“It is your own position you need to consider Queen.  You have inadvertantly begun a war. And it is against you…let  me tell you of the Vengeance Seekers….” moving her hands, the shackles clinked against one another as the Hag held them out,

“Take my hands Queen of the Dead….let me show you”…

Moving forward, Astarte extended her claws and grasped the Hags hands, and the ground fell away…..

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A sun dappled glade lay below them. Astarte looked down and saw that her translucent form still clutched the hand of the Hag next to her. Floating above the tree tops they looked down upon the glade.  Strange figures moved in unison around a fire, dancing in circles around the flames.

“Where are we? Why are we here?”

“This is Comadon.  A world far far removed from Norrath, Queen.  A birthing ceremony sending blessings to a new God. We are here to watch”

Astarte watched as the figures danced in the sun catching distant whispers of music and singing from below.  She could see tendrils of smoke rise from the fire and the sweet smell of meat cooking.

” I understand not what I see. What is the relevance?”

“Watch” the Hag replied.

As Astarte looked closer, she noticed shadows moving amongst the trees.  Barely visible she strained to focus on the figures moving towards the encampment. The sound of music and dancing suddenly gave way to screams of panic as the shadows descended upon the ceremony. The slaughter was absolute….and the ground fell away…

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Deep shadows filled the huge vestment of the chapel.  A single Priest, obviously of some standing, lay prostrate genuflecting before an altar.  Astarte still holding the Hags hand watched from the shadows.

“Where are we? Why are we here?”

“Still upon Comadon…watch”

For moments nothing happened.  Then Astarte felt a figure moving behind her. Turning she noticed a concoction of shadows, oblivious to her prescence moving towards the altar, and the Priest.  Within moments the deep shadows of the Chapel exploded in to movement and figures of unnatural circumstance smothered the worshipper.  The slaughter was absolute…..and the ground fell away……

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Looking down upon a huge walled city, Astarte saw that it was cradled between two mountain peaks.  Snow capped the mountain tops and a ferocious wind whipped flurries of snow around the floating pair.

“Where are we? Why are we here?”

“The northern territory of Carramesh. Comadon. Watch”

Through the thick snow storm Astarte feeling no cold stared down upon Carramesh and it’s city.  As she concentrated on what she saw  she noticed thousands of figures on the walls, all armed for war. All figures upon the walls faced the valley that led up to the mountain stronghold. Waiting.  Shifting her gaze down the valley, Astarte spotted what the troops were looking for.  A tide of shadows flowed up the steep valley.  Too dense to determine numbers, but Astarte guessed upon millions of the same creatures she had witnessed in the previous visions, moved to the walls.  As she observed them flow over the defences like the tide upon a beach, Astarte looked at the Hag who silently watched the scene.  The slaughter was absolute…..and the ground fell away.

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Dizzy, Astarte stumbled on the hard floor of the chamber. Noticing the flames and the crib upon which the Hag still lay staring back at her. She knew the visions had ended.

“What did you show me Hag? What was the purpose of your display” Astarte asked, angry at not having been in control.

” What you saw Queen of the Dead is the first of the Vengeance Seekers.  They were created from shadows of lost souls an immeasurable time ago by a God consumed with jealousy.  His creations and machinations were shunned upon Comadon so he waged a war upon his brethren and their minions who were commonly accepted and loved.  His armies were of the Vengeance Seekers.  Viscious, with one purpose only, to wreak vengeance upon his brother and sister Gods and their creations.  Eventually the Vengeance Seekers were banished by the other Gods who united against him.  Sent to the far corners of the universe as it is…for the Vengeance Seekers could not be destroyed.” the Hag pausing to wipe blood and spittle from her chin stared straight at Astarte.

“Tell me more old woman, or I shall end your days!” she spat.

“Well, there is not much more to tell.  Save the Vengeance Seekers begin by removing those who are at the bottom and most inconsequential in the reason for the revenge. Say, like your aquaintance Count Killzum and his new found friends in Qeynos.  When you removed him from the service of Shahlai Vah’Khan and sent him packing to Qeynos for your own revenge upon her…you were inadvertantly beginning your own demise Astarte.” Smiling the Hag continued, ” Then only when the bottom rungs of the ladder have been removed does the Vengeance Seeker move to the top.” Raising her brows at Astarte the Hag again began to cackle.

“Then I have no choice Hag.  I shall protect the Count and his new friends.  If they do not perish at this Vengeance Seekers hand, my time shall never come.”  Looking across at King Zagan who had remained silent throughtout the whole exchange, Astarte paused as if making a decision and spoke,

” King Zagan.  It is time I ended your service and mine to you.  It would not do for me to bring this thing here.  If it cannot be destroyed then the Hells can do without such a destructive force amongst such creatures as populate these halls.”

“It saddens me to hear this Astarte..where will you go, and what will you become? Whatever you decide, you know you can always call upon your King for assistance”

“I know I am done with the Archduchess’s form. I now need something more suitable.  If these beings are born of shadows and lost souls, I shall become one who can defeat such creatures.” Thinking for a brief moment, the demon known as Astarte smiled,

“I shall become a Shadowraethe my King…and I will take her lost soul”

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Two figures moved quietly in the shadows.  Small and hardly making a noise, they glided through the night. One moved in to the tower and the silence was broken…

“Tobey!! Tobey!! Come here me friend.! ” laughing the Halfling danced around the ruined tower.

“This had better be good cousin, I was about to start gathering wood for a fire” the voice came from outside.

“No need Tobey…we have a fire here, and so much more…come look!!”

Another Halfling moved through the covered doorway of the tower in to the main room,

“My my!” he exclaimed looking at the quite obviously dead form of a Half Elf lying on a saddleblanket, with sadness. However, his gaze like his cousins just couldn’t keep away from the bulging saddlebags…and the fine horse that accompanied them.

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Count Killzum stood rather shyly for a brusque Troll on the shore of the stream.  He was embarassed at the kind attention his new friends had showed towards him, but he also felt an emotion he had not felt before. Happiness.

Waiting along with the rest of the gatherers for the proceedings to begin, Count Killzum could barely contain his joy at being invited to the wedding.  He checked his doublet. Smoothing its front he hoped his mentor Lady Daelan, would be pleased with his appearance and attire.

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He, nor indeed anyone from the gathering before the altar saw the figure high up the mountain over looking the congregation. Neither did they know that the scene below reminded the figure of a vision it had recentlywitnessed in a sun dappled glade, more than a million miles away on a different world to Norrath.

Shadowraethe this time knew where she was, and why she was there.

She was there to watch. She was there to protect Count Killzum and his new friends from the Vengeance Seeker.

‘Let her come.’  Shadowraethe thought,

‘for my slaughter will be absolute’.

 

 

 

 

Killzums Journal – Strange Dreams ~ Written in Thullian

The dreams they keep coming to me.  I find I want to resist sleep so I do not have to face them. Yet strangely, I find almost always during this last week,  I struggle to stay awake.  I do not know why this is happening and fear I do not have the mental capacity to figure this out. There are some very definite factors that hold steady in my dreams. My mentor Daelan appears often as not. The image of her face in the background, watching me with a warm smile.  Images flash between the horrors I have commited in my past, to something darker.  The flash backs of the horrors do not suprise me. It is part of my pennance I am sure for carrying out those actions. I do not regret having to re-live them despite the immense pain they cause me. They remind me of how far I have yet to go to even start to readdress the balance of what I have done.  The darkness bothers me. I see first and formost Daelan and my friend Lorelea, both warm and kindly as ever. There are other faces from my new found friends of the ‘Dragon’. I see them all smiling, encouraging. However, behind them there is a darkness. It lurks, held by some unknown force. I do not know what this is. I can sense however, it wishes my new friends harm.Again a weariness overcomes me. I will go rest where I can be tranquil, in my garden amongst the palms and pools.  I do not look forward with anticipation to my dreams. I fear them. This also is strange to me. I do not know fear..until now.  It adds to my weakness.Yet I must sleep.

The tavern was crowded. Shouts of joy and expletives of disbelief emanated from a game of cards across the room. Cards flew in to the air along with a spray of blood red wine as the obvious victor, a giggling halfling stood on the table waving his goblet in celebration. Laughter sprang forth from a tight knit group of Dwarves near the bar. Recently back from a long journey if their muddied boots and travel packs were anything to go by. A joke shared about an occurrence on their travels perhaps or maybe plain merriment at being home and in comfortable surroundings once again. Other groups, large, small, loud and quiet filled the room. All added to the feeling of warm life and an existence worth being a part of.  

The smell of wood smoke filled the room as the large fire roared in the hearth, warding against the last of winters chill in the air. Soon the fireplace would be dark and empty, soot and ash it’s only testament to the merry life it lived during the colder months. But for now it held strong, throwing warmth, dancing light and shadows across the room touching all in one way or another.  

The shadows touched the far side of the common room more frequently than the dancing light and the hooded figure had picked her seat carefully. The shadows were the first reason for her choice of seating. The second reason was the view it heralded through the main bay window out in to the yard and the dimly lit cobbled street beyond. The unobstructed view showed her the now thinning populace moving through the streets hurrying along with purpose, either to find welcoming shelter or simply rushing home to their families after a day spent at market. She wondered at the lives and purpose of each she witnessed. Armed Guards vigilantly strolled past, the torches hanging in the street from shop fronts reflecting off their glossed armour and weapons.  

 

It was only a matter of time. She knew that her wait would be rewarded this night. Word had already passed to her from Amaffi. He had seen him riding in to the city not ten minutes previously. Having instructed Amaffi to follow him all the way from the Mountains of Butcherblock, she knew his information would be specific and correct. And so, the merriment and noise of the lively tavern now as hazy to her as the heavy smoke hanging in the air, she waited. It would not be long now.  

It was the squeal of fright that first alerted her that he was indeed coming. Two young elf creatures screamed as they ran past the window looking over their shoulders. A sound partially laced with giggles and hysteria. Then she saw him. Huge and imposing and devastatingly ugly he was exactly as she remembered him. There was something different though. The contraption on his face, buried in to the flesh. She knew what it was and what it symbolised. It made her smile, her sharp teeth hidden beneath her mask. There was something else though. The way he walked. It was with purpose and a liveliness born of happiness. Feeling disgust and hatred towards him, she waited until he had passed out of view then slowly rose from her seat. Moving towards the door she stepped out in to the colder dusk air.  

Glancing both ways she scanned the now almost empty street. Seeing no guards she moved to follow expertly hiding amongst the shadows, unseen to all. His destination was as expected. He stayed constant on his course, west along Erollsi Lane. He was heading home. The thought made her stifle a laugh. Not too long ago he had called Freeport home. The contrasts and differences were startling. It was beyond her comprehension to even consider one moving so abruptly from one place to the other.  

As he neared his house which was large and dominated the end of the street just as its much as its owner, she slipped across the road and up the wooden stairway to the loft room she had rented through Amaffi. The door was unlocked as she had left it, not worried about unwanted visitors, having left the room bear. She stepped inside, closed the door gently shut and went immediately to the window. The black and grey cloak she wore guarded her from being seen with a back drop of the pitch dark room. She did not however use her skills to melt into the shadows. This time she wanted to be seen. Silently watching, her green eyes pierced the short distance across the cobbles. Until he looked up and saw her…saw her eyes.  

Her fur rippled with pleasure and a quiet purr of pleasure left her lips as she saw his expression. Worry, surprise, but most satisfying of all, fear. She held his gaze for a short time then melted back in to the darkness of the room, pleased with her progress. Turning, intent on her next chore a meeting with her aide and contact in Qeynos-Amaffi, she stopped dead. The door to her room was open.   

A playing card on the bed, vaguely visible with her unnatural sight. Shahlai Vah’Khan-Vengeance Seeker, stooped slightly picking the card up while still watching the door. Realising her fingers were sticky from the playing card she raised it to her nose and sniffed. Wine she thought, red wine.

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Killzums Journal –Joy and Pain go hand in hand – Written in Thulian

Sleep still troubles me.  Nothing has changed.  The forboding darkness still taints and marrs all that I do.  Things seem strange to me in day to day life, like something is not quite right. Something out of kilter.  I travelled to the Butcherblock Mountains to meet with my good friend Lady Dae’lan. On the way, Horse was unlike I have ever known him.  He was distant from me and would not follow my lead.  It seemed most strange.  My musings over this were short lived of course.  As ever meeting with my friends fills me with warmth and hope.  Seeing Dae’lan was to me as the sun breaking over the mountain tops on a beautiful dawn. It lightened my day. Warm kind words and news that elated my heart.  The Fellowship have voted and I have been accepted amongst their ranks.  I truly now feel part of a family.  Feelings that should be strange to me as I have never experienced them, however it just feels right.  I was embarressed and emotional when Dae’lan told me and announced it to the guild, but I can never explain with these ugly hands grasping a quill how it made me feel truly.  I think I managed to hide it well though.  I pretended to have something in my eye.  For that time everything felt as it should. I felt at home.  I will find a way to show my new friends how grateful I am for their love and trust, undeserved by a troll with a chequered past.On the way back to Qeynos the feeling of disquiet returned however.  I had feelings of being followed.  Horse was behaving strangly once more.  At one point he reared and nearly threw me.  As I entered my new home city things seemed to get worse. He was jittery and nervous.  It was dusk and merry light began to spring forth from the windows of South Qeynos as I was nearly home.  I arrived outside my Manor door and I happened to look up at a dark window across Erollsi Lane.  I swear I could see a pair of green eyes watching.  My heart froze with a steely cold. I knew it was I that was being watched.  Again I felt the disquiet.  Feelings I am uncomfortable with. Killzum rarely feels fear.

I slept soundly. I did dream, but for the first time since my arrival in Qeynos it was an untroubled dream.  There were of course faces of my friends. Lorelea and Dae’lan, although never speaking but watching me constantly throughout. As before smiling and full of warmth.  There was another face. Muirnin.  The monk whom I hunted with in the Commonlands just the other day. She also was silent and just stood there, her hand upon my shoulder, reassuring.  It made me feel strong, untroubled. A reminder of the strength I bear in these ugly arms, twisted with muscle.I woke from the dream to heavy knocking at my door.  Although now the sound of the knocking is but a distant memory, it must have been loud for me to hear it in my garden over the sound of the waterfall.  I recall stumbling downstairs weary, yet stronger than I had felt for some time. On opening the door, there was no one there. A glance across the street at the high window that held fear for me previously, brought now only mild curiosity.  However, I would be lying if I said I did not jump at the tugging on my breeches.  Looking down I saw a Halfling, smiling and friendly.  As is customary in this city I invited the short creature in to my home, offering hospitality.  Without a word they entered.  As the halfling crossed the threshold of my door, I closed it behind but I caught a glimpse of something in the halfling.  A much taller creature, full of beauty but smelling of death.My reactions when so weary suprised me. I guess so many battles over so many years hardens a soul without being aware of it.  Bunching the muscles in my legs I launched myself upward landing easily on the first floor balcony and snatched a spear from the weapon rack there.
I turned and saw in place of the Halfling a terrifying beauty I had seen once before.  It was the Half Elf, Archduchess Astarte. Not the same Half Elf form as before when she cam to me in freeport all that time ago. By the eyes I knew it was her, cold and dead. The name also seemed not to fit, or indeed no longer suited her form.  I knew instinctively even through the haze of evil that washed out of her in waves, that she meant me no harm.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Oceans Away 

The water was warm and crystal blue.  Laughter rippled towards him across the white tips of the waves. He watched the children playing in the surf and smiled. The sun beat down on the sands and warmed his body and his soul. Slowly closing his eyes, Killzum wiggled his toes as the water ticked his feet. The feeling of calm and serenity that washed over him as he listened to the children playing made him feel complete.

Having been approached by his neighbour a few hours before, Killzum was more than a little startled when the tiny Wood Elf had asked if he would join her and her family for a picnic on the beach.  Of course he had agreed and lying on the sand as the sea scented breeze gently brushed across him, he knew it was as a guardian to the family against the possibility of pirates roaming into the cove off the Forest Ruins. But he did not care.  He again felt overwhelming new emotions, knowing he was needed by some of his new peers, wanted even. It made him feel good.Screams woke him from his thoughts and he sat bolt upright. 

He scanned the scene and caught Bayliss, his neighbour giggling at him and he relaxed once more, realizing the screams were playful. He joined in the laughter as he watched one of Bayliss’s children trying to dunk another under the surf.

“Here Killzum. Eat my friend” Bayliss said as she rose from her blanket and walked over to him. She held out her hand, offering him a chicken leg.  He nodded in thanks and devoured the morsel with huge jaws, grease dripping down his chin. Stopping as he finished, he guiltily looked up at her realising his gluttony. A smile was all he received as she walked back to her blanket.

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“Children! It is time to get going. Come along now” Bayliss shouted at the playful lot.

Still lying on his back, the water now over his knees and cooling his thighs, Killzum knew that meant him also. Sighing at the day being over, he opened his eyes and looked at the wispy clouds above him.  For a few moments he watched their lazy progress across the sky, the torn form of Luclan behind them.  He pushed himself upright and brushed his hands together, the sand that had stuck to them sprinkling his feet.  The children now gathered dutifully around their mother, were in turn being rubbed dry by a roughspun towel.  Not wishing to stand around useless, Killzum wandered over and gathered the wooden plates, stacked them gently into the basket and then piled the uneaten food on top.  Closing the lid he stood up to find the now ready children and Bayliss watching him.

“Thank you for joining us today Count. It was most gracious of you”. Bayliss said gently. The children standing behind their mother smiled at him, unafraid of the towering giant.

“Meez shudd be fankin yuuz gud laydee.  Yuuz hus bun must kund” Killzum paused, “und yuur chukkun wus vuree gud” he smiled.  Without waiting to hear more Bayliss turned and beckoned her children across the beach. they ran out in front of her, once more the screaming and laughter ensued.

Killzum dawdled behind as they ran off.  Not wanting the day to end he watched them as they made their way through the narrow gully leading from the beach to the forest ruins, and paused to take one long last whistful look at the sea and sands. He knew from that moment on this place would be special to him.

Sighing deeply he made his way towards the gully and as he reached the entrance he realised he had perhaps dallied to long. Now he could not see the kind family that had let him be a part of their day and quickened his step to catch them.  They could not be too far ahead as their laughter although now muffled, was still audible.

There was no warning that Killzum picked up on.  Had he been paying attention he was sure he would have heard the tell tale signs of shallow breathing, or the change in the air as anticipation and tense emotion surrounded him. But Count Killzum was not paying attention. Far from it.

The ten men leapt from the rocks to surround him as he was mid-way through the gully.  The leader, obvious from his elaboratly embossed leather jerkin, moved forward.

“We have a message from The Vah’Khan, Count. Do I need to explain? or do you already get the jist of it?” Amaffi snarled at him, the light glinting off the serrated edge of his long blade.

KIllzum stood still. His mind was slow, he knew this. He knew that they knew this. However, his battle instinct was not.  Almost two different personas, calm, kind, funny, a joker when relaxing but when battle was on the cards Count Killzum was truly a monster.  Not only for his size was awesome, but his instinct and savageness in battle was second to none. 

Instantly the shroud and haze of the day stripped away and subconsciously he began to assess the situation. He was unarmed and not dressed for battle. His soft linen tunic and breeches as useless as the wind in stopping a blow. he was greatly out numbered. Five men to his front, five to his rear.  He could smell them. He sniffed, their sweat permeated the fresh sea air alongside something else.  Glancing over his shoulder quickly, he saw all he needed to know. He only saw the five swords held low in his periferal vision. He was not looking for arms. He was watching their eyes.  Turning to the front again he saw a mirror image of what was behind him. And he smiled. Rows of sharp teeth met Amaffi as the leader of the group spoke once more.

“Why do you smile at your demise beast? Looking forward to your sweet death?”. On speaking, Amaffi leapt forward.

Three others to the front remained motionless and one other followed his leader, there being no room in the tight gully for more than two abreast.  Killzum heard movement behind him and knew two would be leaping at his back the very same moment.  He did not wait for his death however.

He leapt forward to meet the charge instead of retreating as he knew the leader thought he would facing such overwhelming odds, Killzum turned as he leapt his body now sideways on to Amaffi.  As the two swords to his front lashed out Killzum grabbed the blades with his hands feeling the steel cut in to his palms.  The cuts were not deep and the pain was non existant for Killzum. His beserk nature swamped him like the waves devouring the shore to his rear as he ripped the two blades from shocked hands, weak by the huge trolls standards. 

The three remaining to the front could not move forward, their path blocked by their leader and comrade.  Killzum whipped around with un-natural speed of one so large and met the charge of the two behind him. He used the pommels of the swords which were still reversed in his bleeding hands to obliterate their skulls, their life blood spraying from open mouths to cover him. Their momentum carried them in to Killzum as they fell and as he kicked them away he turned again sideways on and flipped the blades so he now held one pointing towards Amaffi and the other to the three that had been behind him. 

“Think you have won the day Troll?” Amaffi growled as he snatched a blade from one of his men. 

Killzum said nothing, only watching the group of eight men. Three to his left, five to his right. Two of whom were now unarmed.  He again watched their eyes and sniffed the air. Once again, Killzum smiled as his own blood dripped from the handles of the weapons he held. 

Only Amaffi leapt at him this time, frenzied by the Trolls demeanour.  His eyes intent on his targets face, Amaffi did not see the huge bare foot crash into his stomach.  Doubled over gasping for air, Amaffi also did not see the two swords already crossed lining up on his neck.  Killzum violently uncrossed the blades and Amaffis head spilled to the floor, covering the Troll in a bloody fountain.

The remaining seven glanced at each other and the now truly terrifying image of their supposed prey. He looked again in their eyes, seeing as he has before their apprehension, and as they fled Killzum sniffed the air. The smell of fear had left with them.

Killzum smiled again to himself and using his foot to roll the now detached head over, he looked in to the eyes of Amaffi. 

“If you were not dead” he said in Thulian remembering a Half Elfs words, “you could tell your mistress I am ready for her, and I remember my strengths”.

Dropping the blades on to the ground next to the three still forms, he walked away.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He caught up with Bayliss and her children as they were approaching the gates to Willow Wood.  His mistake was realized as soon as the first child saw him, and screamed.  No longer a scream full of joy and exuberance, it was a scream full of fear.  They all turned at once and saw him and the screams of the first child were echoed by all.  Bayliss, her eyes full of fight, remorse and sadness herded her children towards the guards.

Dumbfounded by the display and his stupidity, Killzum slowly turned walking back down the slope to the small pool.  Glancing once with regret at his horrific bloodied reflection he strode in, the previously clear water turning red as he wondered if he would ever again be needed or wanted. 

As he washed, the blood red water hid his tears.

 

 

 

 Journal Of Killzum –Bloodied Hands and Joyful news~written in Thulian~

I find it hard to write. The cuts in my hands are deep and painful. Even bound the bandages turn red quicker than I had hoped. All this is a reminder to me. A reminder that I am not yet free of ‘Freeport’ and the tendrils of hate that follow me still.

I am determined not to let them get me down. As Archduchess, or whatever name and form she goes by now informed me. I must not forget my strengths, for they are many.

Small details of my new life under the light of Qeynos light up my soul and assist to banish the feelings of woe Freeport has left me with. They come thick and fast. From expected an unexpected sources.

As an example I visited my good friend Dae’Lan the other day at her domicile in Kelethin. Her warmth and care for me fills me with joy. I feel protective towards my newly found friend. She showed me the improvements she had made to the waterfall I had built for Landail and her. As she did so she shared with me some special news. I was at first amazed that she had told me such things that are so obviously close to her heart. And then I simply felt honoured she thought of involving me. She asked me to refrain from announcing her secrets to all. And as such I will not even furnish my diary with the details lest some nosey eyes find it. A secret of a friend will always remain fiercely locked in my heart.

We shared small talk , and she showed concern over the problems I am having. I confessed to her that I am hunted at this time by something from Freeport. I did not dally too long on details. I felt guilty for sharing this with her. I do not know why I did. I know she has enough on her mind and does not need to worry about a stupid old Troll. It was a strange feeling though to be told I should ask for help should I need. I am unaccustomed to this. I do know that though it was a new thing to me, it was another small spark that lightened my soul against the darkness that used to surround me.

I was saddened that I missed seeing Landail once more. When I hunted with him in New Tunaria I had the opportunity to judge him on a level I find easier than an emotional one. When I am with Dae’lan the friendship is so overwhelming and I sometimes struggle to understand it’s complexities, even though at base level I simply know it makes me feel good. With Landail that time it was easier. Only as I am used to judging proficiency with a blade more than being the subject of friendship. He is a most impressive figure in battle and wields a control I sometimes find difficult to achieve. Watching him made me glad I now will never have to face him.

I am experiencing worry that I seem to always see Dae’lan when we are alone. Since beginning to understand the nature of Elves and Humans more, I worry that Landail may think there is something unnatural about our meetings. I cannot explain to him that there is nothing to worry about, as if he wasn’t worried he may become so. I also cannot explain that I have no interest in love or the indulgences of that kind towards anyone. I shall always remain alone in that respect. Not to be a martyr, but as this is the way I shall live my life. For the things I have done, I do not deserve the pure unadulterated joy such unions bring. I am content with my friendships. They give me more than I could have ever hoped for.

Talking of friendships, and yes I know I ramble about such things, but they are still such a wonder to me. It was an unknown concept in my previous life. I have not seen Lorelea, or Leusk or any of the other Fellowship members I call friends now. It is strange, but I feel something inside the more time that passes when we do not meet. I miss them. I have hope I shall see them soon. I may one day attend the meeting at the Inn on Monday night. At the moment I know my presence will cause pain to some and as such it is not a good idea. Hopefully soon.

It is ironic that I have not seen those who I call friend for a while, but only last night I found myself venturing in to the catacombs beneath Mistmoore Castle with none other than Fennil the Fae. She ignored me most of the time and when I was acknowledged it was with answers of one word. I saved her from certain death at one time. In her mind is probably so I can have the pleasure of doing it myself in the future. I will persevere to be kind and warm towards Fennil in the vain hope that one day she will see the turmoil I have experienced and what I am trying to become. I have considered though that it is good Fennil sees me this way. It is teaching me a valuable lesson, in that not all friendships come easily. Apparently some you have to work for. It is good penance for me also that there is someone reminding me of what evil I have been, lest I get caught up in the joys of my new life and forget.

 

——————————————————————————————-

 The Crystal Explodes with sound…a cry of help can be heard.. 

The air was dank. The walls were damp and covered in a moss that cushioned his skin from the cold, jagged rock. He could only feel the soft touch of the moss. The blindfold and darkness prevented him from seeing it. Intermittently his world would turn from pitch black to a feint glow at the edge of the cloth covering his eyes as torches passed where he was chained. Quiet foot falls accompanied the glow along with mutterings that he couldn’t quite discern. He thought they were probably in a language he did not know. The glow only lasted for seconds and once again he would be tipped in to darkness. The only sounds a constant dripping from somewhere above him, and the rattle of his chains as he shifted position. On rare occasion, he would hear a distant scream or shout, unable to locate the direction the sound originated from. 

He had timed how regular the foot falls had been as best he could. It was no easy task but he now thought they were around every hour. The didn’t seem to be a time when they weren’t there, regular as clockwork. A patrol he thought. It must be. Not that this gave him anything apart from a way to pass time. He found he actually began to look forward to the approach of the dim glow that would get only slightly brighter before it disappeared again and the waiting would begin once more.  

He used the time between these incidents to try and remember what had happened on the day he had been captured. There was something about that day. Something important. But he could not quite place what it was. Just as he thought he had the reasoning almost within his grasp, it would flit away again as if a leaf on the breeze. Apart from being frustrating this was beginning to anger Count Killzum. He was more than aware he was not the cleverest being to walk Norrath, but his memory was usually fine. 

With nothing better to do, he shifted his weight and tensed and relaxed his muscles to prevent cramping. He closed his eyes as even though it was not necessary, it helped him think. He relived that day once again. Perhaps this time he would find answers. 

 

    Rain dripped of the eaves of the overhanging houses. Strolling through the grey streets Killzum splashed unconcerned through the puddles and mud, intent on his destination. The air smelt fresh from the storm, and the rain had washed away the dirt from the streets and cleaning grime covering the windows. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes the huge Troll smiled to himself as he took in the smells of the city. 

He nodded at the sodden and miserable looking guard as he passed though the arched gateway to the Northern Quarter and quickened his step. Only a few more strides to go and he would be back inside out of the storm. More importantly though he would be soon enjoying one of Steinbeards Fish pies. 

Pulling a chair out from a table near to the door, Killzum looked around at the other patrons enjoying the jovial atmosphere on a rainy afternoon. Over by the bar there were three elderly gentlemen enjoying more than just a few ales, quite obviously all of them were using the bar as a tool to aide ale hobbled knees. As drunk as they were though, Killzum could tell each one of them had the look of a seasoned campaigner. The scars all three carried a testament to many battles fought. At the table between the Troll and the three old warhorses was a lone Fae, perched delicately on the only chair at the table to be occupied. Killzum studied the tiny but stunning creature, captivated by it’s beauty. Catching himself staring, Killzum dragged his thoughts from the day dream, realising only then he was fingering the mask he wore embedded in his ugly face. A definite contrast he thought. 

There were the usual group of Halflings playing some game or other in the corner. It looked like knuckle bones this day. The laughter and high volume of their celebrations when a win occurred were almost a part of the place as the furniture. There were a few other regulars he noticed. Nothing out of place. 

While he tucked in to his pie, Killzum passed small talk with the Fae. Calm on the exterior, he was secretly delighted that the Fae didn’t seem to be scared by him, and actually seemed to enjoy his company. Killzum certainly enjoyed passing time with the fascinating creature. He even suggested when the Fae borrow his crystal while he ate when they discussed how difficult it was to find friends in a new city. 

Following his meal, with a full stomach Killzum raised himself from his seat and pulling his cloak around him walked back out in to the rain. As he was leaving one of the double doors swung towards him and sidestepping he avoided being hit by it. Killzum stood by quietly as a heavily bearded Dwarf stomped past him, obviously eager himself to get out of the rain. 

 

 Behind his blindfold, Killzums eyes shot open. Seeing only darkness with his eyes, but the now full picture with his mind, involuntarily he tried to sit up and cursed when the chains holding him pulled him back. It had been the smell of the Dwarf. It was a smell he recognised well. It was most certainly not the fresh air he had enjoyed on his way to Irontoes. It had been the rancid air of Chandlers Alley off Stonestair Byway in Freeport. Where the Vah’Kahn warehouse was situated. There was now no doubt in his mind. It had been the Dwarf that had given the order to jump the huge Troll with weighted nets. Knowing he would be most vulnerable after several ales, relaxed after a large meal. Berating himself Killzum couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. He was going soft! 

The anger was starting to build to uncontrollable levels. No matter how many times Killzum reminded himself too keep his breathing shallow and calm, more and more they came with sharp ragged gasps of the damp air. Clenching his teeth with such force he could feel the iron of his mask ripping at his taught skin. 

At that moment several images flashed across hiscovered eyes all at once. The Half Elf Shadowraethe..’Remember your strengths’ she had whispered as she leant in close….The faces of his friends, all smiling ‘We love you for what you are. Be yourself friend’, followed by his good friend Dae’Lan, gently touching his forearm ‘ If you need us, do not be afraid to ask for help’. 

An earth shattering bellow erupted wildly, filling the silence as Killzums full fury and berserk nature was unleashed. He did not see the glow return as the gutteral noises called to the guards, bringing them to him.

As he tore away his blindfold he dimly realised he was now standing, two chains swinging from the manacles on his wrists. Boulders of rock attached to the ends where he had torn them from the wall.

Without his armour Killzum ran through dark tunnels, chased by a multitude of Orc guards, his intent was set in his mind. A large Orc, almost as large as the fleeing Troll leapt from a side corridor engaging Killzum without thought or warning. His escape not faltering Killzum grasped the Orc by its throat smashing its skull against the tunnel roof, and ran. 

Bursting out in to an open cavern Killzum spied his belongings piled in a corner, his bright blue breastplate unmistakable. Dashing directly for them, he quickly rummaged through his pack snatching the crystal free.

‘ULP MEEZ! DAE’LAN…’ULP MEEZ’ he screamed in to the device as blows pummelled him to the ground. And as Killzum slipped in to unconsciousness the Half Elven image of Shadowraethe returned, ‘ She will seek to harm your friends first, then you after’….His mind screamed as the realisation struck him heavier than any of the blows from the Orcs….he was leading his friends in to a trap! 

 

 Delivery 

The chamber was dark. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the walls of the vast vaulted Hall, carried by the surrounding silence to the prostrate figure before the altar. He heard her coming in his subconscious but did not divert from his offering of Prayer. To do so could perhaps offend the Prince of Hate, and that of course would be no good thing. He could not afford the disruption it would cause his business. Now distracted slightly from his silent words, his mind also turned to greed and relished in it.

As he finished his offering, he could feel her behind him patiently waiting for him to finish. In a twist of malice, the Tier’Dal smiled to himself as he began to rise then knelt back down to begin another prayer.

It annoyed him slightly that his delaying seemed not to bother the Necromancer one bit, as when he did finally turn toward her, she only smiled. Walking past her with no other acknowledgment apart from a slight nod, he again could hear her footsteps behind him as she began to follow. Not a word was spoken between the two on the long walk from the Spires of Innoruk to the New Foreign Quarter.

Sitting in his throne like chair in his chambers above his store, Starm N’Tiri the Alchemist, still unspeaking gestured with his hand towards his guest that she should sit. His arrogance astounded her, but also amused her. Any trait as strong as this one, she thought, can be used to one’s advantage. Indeed it had taken the pompous Tier’Dal three days to even acknowledge her presence in Neriak, from when she had arrived seeking an audience with him.

Sitting as offered, holding the gaze of N’Tiri, Shadowreathe smiled and spoke.

“Have you had a chance to look at it?” she asked.

N’Tiri, pulled open a drawer in his desk and took out a small velvet wrapped bundle, placing gently on the desk top.

“No I haven’t”, he paused, not for a moment taking his eyes from Shadowraethe, “but I will look at it ….when we have discussed a price” he finished. The superior look N’Tiri gave her as his eyes dropped from hers to roam over her seated figure, turned to pure lust. At that moment Shadowraethe knew what his price would be. This will be too easy she mused, as she mentally began to stack up his short comings.

Raising an eyebrow, Shadowraethe leant forward letting her cleavage rest on the desk top, accentuating her curves.

“Well N’Tiri, what you want is certainly a prize both of us can consider,” smiling warmly at him she continued “but I need an answer now. I have others waiting on it. Such distractions would surely…last so long a time, the answer would be by then…useless.”

His gaze now consuming her form with uncontrollable desire, he simply nodded. After a short pause, the Alchemist shook his head and blinking away his sleazy visions he looked back down at the purple velvet wrapped item.

Gently moving the folds of fabric aside he looked down at the pure white crystal. Proserpine had taken it from one of the Fellowship of the Dragon whilst they had hunted with her and Archduchess Astarte as was, in the Estate of Unrest some time ago. At the time they had simply been resting. It had been an easy chore to remove one when bidden by Astarte from a pack, cast aside while they took a brief respite.

“I will need to carry out a few tests on it, then send for Tarmil. That boy has some unusual qualities concerning rocks” he supplied as he stood moving out of his chair and in to his laboratory next to his office, taking the bundle with him. As he walked past her, he looked down at Shadowraethe with longing, the bulge in his breeches testament to his thoughts.

Leaning back in the comfy chair she closed her eyes smiling. The day was turning out to be most splendid. Shadowraethe had no idea who Tarmil the boy was but if he assisted her in achieving her goal, that would not be a problem. And N’Tiri was also easily led in to her design it seemed. If he could deliver as promised information on how the crystal worked and if she was extremely lucky a way to track them, her efforts would be worth it

.………………………………………………………………………………………………..

As far as she could tell with no sunlight coming through the subterranean windows, about two and a half hours had now passed. After whiling away the time studying the opulent self involved office of Starm N’Tiri, she had closed her eyes for a short time, resting. Eventually N’Tiri, along with the boy Tarmil returned and just a few moments ago began explaining to her his findings. Already she was bored with him and his talk of chemicals, science, Tarmils visions and a spirit journey. Studying the ‘boy’ who she thought was more of a young man, she spoke out, interrupting N’Tiri,“This is all very well N’Tiri. But do you have the answers I seek. Where is the crystal given to Count Killzum Brakkarg? This is the only answer I seek.” Glancing nervously at Tarmil, as if unsure of her reaction to the news he was about to break, N’Tiri spoke in quiet tones “We, err, I could not discern much,” he quickly continued patting the boy on the arm “But Tarmil here. His spirit journey saw many many orcs, hundreds of the beings…and he brought back this…” The alchemist produced a small bag weighed down with something contained inside and leaning across the desk, he handed it to Shadowraethe. Opening it slowly, she looked inside and once more, smiled.

“Yes, he should stay and witness this, he will learn a few valuable lessons.” Shadowreathe spoke as she got up from her chair and walked round the desk to N’Tiri. Smiling down at him she gently began to unbutton his silken tunic and ran her soft fingers over his bare chest. N’Tiri closed his eyes, his breath coming in short excited gasps as Shadowreathe looked up at Tarmil,

 

“Are you ready for your lesson boy?” she asked of him, yet both him and N’Tiri replied in guttural desperate voices “Yes!!”.

Continuing her soft caress of the alchemists skin, her left hand moved down to his waist band, onto his throbbing crotch as her right hand rested gently over his quivering heart. Closing her own eyes now, muttering sensual words of magick, she slowly and carefully slipped her hand in to N’Tiri’s chest, her fingers disappearing from view and seized his heart with fluid fury, twisting her grip . The boys eyes widened now with fear not lust as Starm N’Tiri opened his mouth, a primeval scream bursting from his lips. Shadowraethe yanked her hand back from the alchemists chest ripping his still beating heart free leaving the chest strangely mark free. Her words of magick became louder, more forceful as she held the heart aloft, blood spraying over her and the boy as she held his gaze.

“Learned your lesson boy?” she snarled, gesturing towards the thrashing form of N’Tiri,

“ I have taken your heart N’Tiri. Just as you wished to take my dignity. You shall live….for as long as I deem necessary and only because you gave me the answers I required”, she said, nodding towards the heart ”I will keep this safe for you”.

Shadowraethe retrieved the crystal and the bag she had been given, turned on her heels and was gone. Shutting the door behind her she left the writhing form of N’Tiri behind her as the boy Tarmil feinted, falling heavily across his master

.…………………………………………………………………….
 

This city never changes much, she thought as she moved through the streets, her eyes wary for guards. Pausing momentarily to let a mounted Captain pass, she waited patiently in a side street concealed in the shadows. Her destination was now not far away and she moved on hoping her acquaintance, Lady Lorelea of the Fellowship would be at the guild house.

Seeing the door across the sun dappled glade across from the water and the huge Magicians Tower, Shadowraethe took one last look around and dashed across to the door. Hammering her staff up on it, it quickly opened. Greeted by a powerful looking Barbarian who answered the door she immediately decided not to enter, feeling uncomfortable at intruding on her acquaintances home ground.

“Yes?” a deep voice asked of her.

Opening the small bag she had obtained from N’Tiri the alchemist in Neriak and showing the Barbarian Warrior the plain desert sand within, she muttered only,

“For Lady Lorelea..concerning Killzum”. With this she hurried away, again scanning the streets for guards.

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Hallucination

Dappled sunlight played easily on the leaves as a distant breeze cooled the air slightly. The faint rustle of the air through the leaves was like a constant mantra or prayer being whispered. It calms my soul and takes away my worries, Killzum thought as he strode across the wooden platforms towards the bank where he was to meet his new charge.  

Mixed with the sound of the rustling leaves there was a distant noise. A throbbing, pounding noise that seemed to resonate through his head. Dismissing it, Killzum continued on.  

He had spoken to her over the crystal and she seemed a most understanding creature. During the discussion of him tutoring the Fae in the ways of the Fellowship, Fennil had voiced her most strong objections. At first refusing that it could ever happen. Until Myrilandel had spoken up. Lady lorelea had endorsed and suggested it, and truth be told Killzum’s chest swelled with emotion that he should be given such responsibility after not long being accepted as a Fellow himself. He was determined to do both the Fellowship and Myrilandel proud in his new role.  

The first hurdle in his way was now being realised in full. Eager to visit Myrilandel and introduce himself in person Killzum had made the easy journey across Butcherblock Mountains and in to Greater Faydark. It hadn’t been until he was waiting for the lift he had realised again the problems he encountered entering the tree city. He had spied movement in the bushes near the lift and in anticipation of trouble had strode over, hand on the hilt of his sword. As he had pulled the bushes aside an ear piercing squeal came from the foliage. He had forgotten how he, more often than not scared the local inhabitants.  

As he made his way down the last set of steps towards the bank, he rubbed his head. Surely the noises will stop soon. I must be getting a headache akin to the pounding of Brell’s Hammer breaking rocks he thought, as he pushed the door open.  

The meeting had gone very well. He was more than happy with how Myri had looked him straight in the eyes, not showing any fear. He felt gratitude towards her when she addressed him as an equal and not as if he was a psychotic killing machine. He had watched her move whilst they had talked and was impressed with the grace, control and speed he had witnessed. She would make a fine warrior indeed. All in all he thought she would do very well in her role as a Paladin and would fit in to the Fellowship with ease. It will be no hardship tutoring this one. She will more than likely become a good friend, he mused even as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, once more wishing the pounding would stop.  

As he did so the memories faded away in to darkness and pain. The reality thundered in to Killzum as once more the dank, stale stench of orcs hit him and broke him from his reverie. Just then a fist adorned with brass knuckles crashed in to his now unmasked face. Killzum could no longer discern the differing taste of normal saliva to that of blood, but he felt his already pulped nose split again from the blow. The orcs had laughed as they had tied a rope to the mask embedded in his face and skull. They had slapped each other drunkenly on the back as the dog they had tied the rope to pulled desperately against it, attempting to get the piece of fresh meat they dangled in front of it. Eventually driven in to a frenzy the dog had ripped the mask from Killzums face, tearing the skin to shreds and as it lay on the floor bloodied, the dog ate his prize meat and Killzum bellowed in pain. The mask, ironically enough he thought he had worn to remind him of the pain he had caused others during his years of tyranny. He had wondered many times during this last week. Is this now my punishment, my pain?

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Escape?

The slow pulse from the darkness no longer irritated him.  At first the droning intermittent sound enveloped everything. It drowned out the sounds from the Orcs activities in the caves, it possessed every corner of his mind making it impossible to think. It had been days since he had last slept.

Count Killzum however, had slowly begun to overcome its effects using skills he had learnt from observing Desticarto and Muirnin.  He thought they had referred to it as meditation.  As his control over meditation had improved and its affects on him had increased, he had taken to studying the thing with little else to do.  Looking like a disk of constantly moving black smoke that occasionally flashed with purple energies, the thing was big enough to block the alcove entrance in which he had been placed.  It’s size seemed to alter, as when he was brought food ,it shrank making it possible for the Orc who delivered it to squeeze an arm through and dump the rotten scraps on the filthy floor.  Killzum had also noticed that whichever Orc came, they all seemed to avoid any contact with the disc of darkness.

One thing he was sure of is that his captures were very sure of this things ability to keep him penned in his prison.  He couldn’t help but wonder why.  That, along with their distinct avoidance of the thing could only mean a few things. It was either fatal to touch it or painful and incapacitating.  He decided to try his theories out, again more out of boredom than any real hope at escape.

A full day passed and he came to aware of the change in pulse as he had come to link with the delivery of food and the changing in shape of the disc.  Rousing himself quickly from the spot he had selected from next to the entrance, just in time he saw a wart covered grey skinned arm propel his meal through the gap on to the floor.  Without a moments hesitation, slowed and weakened though he was from lack of food and drink, Killzum grabbed the arm and pulled the Orc in to the alcove prison with him.  Lifting the Orc who now cried for assistance from its comrades, he propelled it headlong into the disc.  The thing exploded in light as blue flashes of what appeared to be lightning danced across the surface. The Orc screamed from the display of energies obviously in pain, but as the creature began to fall to the floor unconscious, Killzum watched in wonder as arms as red as blood emerged from the disc still electrified with flashes, and clawed hands grabbed the Orc.  Its screams intensified as the arms dragged it in to the disc. As it disappeared, all was silent once more.

Shocked and not a little disorientated from the display, it took Killzum a few moments to gather his thoughts and to notice that the gap where his food had been delivered through was still there.  It was only slightly too small for him to get through and slumping down on the dirty floor he paused, considering if it was worth trying to squeeze past the darkness.

A while has passed and no one had come looking for the Orc he had thown in to the disc of darkness.  Killzum had decided the risk was worth it.  Lying as flat as he could he pushed his arms through the small gap his huge hands grasping at rocks, he slowly and carefully began to drag himself though.  Pushing his face in to the dirt he feel where it was still covered in scars and open sores from where his mask of pain had been ripped clear. As his shoulders flexed one briefly caught the disc and pain exploded though his whole body almost incapacitating him. More out of instinct he ignored his slow progress and threw himself clear and in to the tunnel beyond, afraid the hands would try and grab him and drag him after the Orc, in to the darkness.

He lay for several moments on the cold floor shaking with the pain, his breath coming in short sharp gasps.  Eventually gaining enough strength he forced himself upright and scanned the tunnel he was in. All quiet.  Following his previous attempt at escape and desperate flight down dark corridors, he decided this time to attempt to adopt stealth and began to creep as quietly as he could manage.  It mattered not which way he travelled he thought, as he had no idea where he was.

It seemed like hours and he had no idea how far he had crept when eventually he saw light ahead.  His heart lifted as there was no mistaking it.  It was daylight.  Attempting to keep focus he shook his head and was glad of the pause he had made as he saw distinct shadows of movement outside the tunnel entrance.  Of course there would be guards.  He had been foolish to allow himself the hope that he was nearly free.  Unarmed, without armour and weakened he was not sure of a victory in battle, but decided nonetheless he had nothing else to lose.

Loosening the muscles in his shoulders at the same time he squatted up and down warming his legs. It was to be a simple plan.  To run as fast as he could out of the tunnel and hope that the time it took the guards to react would give him enough of a head start to escape. As long as none of them have bows he thought grimly.

Gulping a huge lungful of air he sprinted forward exploding out in to the hot sun and saw all around him reddened rock and sand…the desert.  He did not pause to look behind him to see how quickly the guards had made pursuit but couldn’t help thinking as he felt the warm sand beneath his feet that survival in the desert would be a challenge indeed.  But first he had to get free. His legs still felt surprisingly strong as he powered along, risking now a glance over his shoulder.  As he did so his heart screamed with joy as through the clouds of sand he had kicked up, the pursuing Orcs were almost dots on the horizon.

Slowing his pace only slightly, the adrenalin wearing off he began to feel weary but knew he could not yet rest. It didn’t matter, laughing out loud he found he could not stop his mirth becoming almost maniacal in its relief.  As he continued on he could discern smoke in the distance. A camp! Hope sprang though him again..drink, food, help..all may be there. Picking up the pace again he made for the distant plume.

At that moment pain erupted in his lower back as claws dug in to his skin and he hit the sand skidding to a halt a weight holding him down. A desert cat he instantly thought, a lion or panther. Face down he felt breath behind his ear and waited for the bite that was sure to come on his neck, no more energy left to fight….

“Hush little Killzy don’t you cry,
Mamas going to see to it that you die,
And if you can’t remember my name,
I’m the Vah’Khan and I bring pain…

Worry not Killzum my old friend…your time will come soon enough”.

Almost passed out from exhaustion he felt the weight lift from him and firm hands pulled him to his feet.  Through hazy eyes he saw Shahlai and a troop of Orc Runners.

“Get him ready” the vile Kerran ordered, “Things are progressing quicker than we thought. We are moving him now”.

As she walked off, Shahlai Vah’Khan looked over her shoulder and just before the Orcs pulled him away, he saw her blow him a kiss. Whilst he was pushed firmly away, her peels of mocking laughter were unmistakable.

————————————————————————————————————————

Warg’Wrestler

Maj’Dul.

 

Fine clouds of dust swirled in the corners of the steps and against the arenas outer wall. They imitated miniature sand tornados as they danced, in a futile attempt to escape but were trapped by their size and lack of power.  The heat was unbearably oppressive on the sand. Even the stands, shielded from the scorching sun by long strips of white canvas held a dry heat, giving little respite for the crowd beneath.  Almost as visible as the shimmering heat wave that hung