Out of the Darkness

A forum for role play within the Hope Wastes. DEAD CHARACTERS ONLY!!!

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Out of the Darkness

Postby Phil.Priest » Tue Sep 07, 2010 9:20 am

The Warding was set and he was trapped, no essence and no way out. Tu’ath in front of him prepared to fight to the bitter end… this was something he could not win and yet the voice within his head, ever the influence, made him believe that he could.

He had no power, yet the voice reminded him, the contingency was already set. Unremoved. Ready should he but call upon it. He could win, he was a fighter. NO. He was a sorcerer, his grandfather the possessor was a warrior.

Too late to argue. The spear lunges toward his chest, what had he said to the angry lion? Sort it out after we survive. A little magic would end this, but he couldn’t access it still. Keep swinging the sword, block the spear and taunt him into a blind rage.

“Chevyo”, he called the contingency forth and became the word. A Spirit Warrior. Striking at the soul of his opponent and yet the spear still came, his shields were cut away blow by blow, the lions soul hewn off of him piece by piece.

The lion hits the floor, we won. Not until he is dead, he would do the same if we were lying there. Hardly an honourable death. Dead is dead, finish it.

His blows rained upon the vulnerable knight, his life saved by the essence of the Grey Lizard. Then, he is struck and is falling. Falling so very far that he wonders how far he can fall.

A wrenching in the High Elves gut proves his mortal life is at an end. No, there must be a way. It’s over grandfather. No. This cannot happen.

Something pulls at his soul; the older man feels it too. They are trying to restore you? They’ll only recall one soul and that will be mine. The two spirits fight for what seems an eternity, the inevitable happens as the older warrior punishes the youngster, his skills at fighting had improved with his influence, yet he still had the edge. After all, magic used upon the older High Elves was almost pointless.

D’arvan fell further into the darkness, his spirit spinning as his Grandfather was pulled away from his, almost painfully so. What would happen now? He no longer had a body, was he truly dead? His own family had turned their back upon him and stolen his body at a chance to renew a long dead age where the High Elves were the supreme race… oh they were still superior, their power and influence had just waned…

The darkness held him, how long for he would probably never know. He knew he owed Time a week of his life, would that apply to his body, or his spirit? Perhaps this was his personal land of the dead… bleak and unforgiving… because he would not be forgiven despite other influences.

Then the mists came. They broke through the dark, bringing the chaotic magic with them, breaking the veil and drawing him in to the Hopewastes. And so he stepped into the Hopewastes and looked upon the grey landscape with eyes unclouded by the hateful influence of his father's father.

There were those who he could ally with here though, those who would no doubt be seeking an out when the time of the Night was upon the Hopewastes.

Assuming of course they were still here… and the dreamscape was true… then he would find some potential allies… for things were in motion which needed to be stopped and he had knowledge of them…
Kalist, Hope-Bringer, The Emissary of Hope
Lazar, God of Darkness
D'arvan Weyoun of House Aerielys
"Every man is guilty of all the good he didn't do"

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