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 Posted: Wed Aug 15, 2007 8:11 am
Quote: Magical Mayhem
"...And I just don't know what happened! The strangest things started happening all over, and I can't stop them! I knew I shouldn't have trusted that merchant. False advertising, that's what it is!"
It seems that a local noble has just come into the possession of a rather strange magical artifact. While your superior isn't exactly sure what the artifact is, the letter of entreaty from said noble implied that it is not latently powerful. Whatever it is, it is definitely putting the noble's estate into chaos, and your superior has been asked to fix the problem.
While you know that the noble most definitely slipped your master some coins to expedite the solving of the problem, it seems that the more experienced wizard is requesting that you make the journey to solve the problem. How do you deal with it? Do you bring the mayhem-making artifact back to your superior to deal with or puzzle through it on your own?
Yields: 50 experience points
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 3:56 pm
“I told you it was a bad idea,” the tiny creature sent irritably as he trod in yet another puddle that came up to his knee. When the only response he got was a vague ‘eh,’ the blond growled and continued his mental rant. “I should never have joined that bloody guild. I don’t like being told what to do especially by some great fat buffoon who, thanks to the combination of his startling complexion and his stupid hat, looks like a dropped strawberry ice-cream cone.”
A mental chortle followed his description and the grey-skinned bard scowled. “Glad though I am to be found amusing Tenar; shut it.” It probably wouldn’t even be so bad if the bloody stupid dragon had been able to come with him… but this city wasn’t accustomed to visits from such creatures and, if he wanted to get this job done without causing mass hysteria, alone it had to be.
He wished it were otherwise; every whisper of wind was somebody behind him, every shadow some monster waiting to pounce. Beetle shuddered and, trying not to feel so alone and small, tugged his cloak closer about himself. He was nearly there now in any case and this was a nice part of town. Everything would be fine… Well probably fine anyway.
“Relax Bee,” chided Angetenar’s mental voice. “You’ll be fine; just get in there, work out what’s with the artefact thing and meet me by the city gates.”
The blond paused to wipe water from his face and peer about at his surroundings, responding to his companion with a vague thought of assent. He couldn’t even remember which of these fine town houses he was supposed to be going to. How the hell was he going to get anything useful done for that guild full of windbags if he couldn’t even remember where he was supposed to be going? A gust of wind extracted a shudder from his small form and the sorcerer squeezed his dark eyes shut as he attempted to recall the instructions he had been given.
A moment later he opened them again and frowned at his own stupidity. “Well duh,” he muttered, turning towards the house at the end of the street that was covered almost entirely in climbing roses. “I suppose ‘rose house’ ought to have stuck in my mind when there’s a house covered in roses right in front of me,” he hissed, taking his annoyance out on a perfectly innocent pebble.
“Relax. Seriously; getting angry with yourself won’t get you anywhere,” the small creature’s draconic friend advised. “Remember,” he went on, “pretty smiles. People love your pretty smiles.”
The bard paused on the doorstep of the imposing house and closed his eyes again as sick dread tried to well up inside him. If he concentrated, he could almost see his huge friend coiled up comfortably in the copse where the two of them had parted. Perhaps the wyrm was eating some of that dried and spiced meat he loved so much right now. Beetle shivered again, wishing he were there too.
“I’ll save you some honey candy,” the hybrid chuckled. “Now go on, the sooner you’re in the sooner you’re out. If you make a quick job of it maybe mister ice-cream-head will think twice before giving you a chump job again.”
Beetle sent his friend the mental equivalent of a lopsided smile. “Right,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “Here goes noth… eh, something.” Reaching up with an invisible hand of magic, the sodden blond slammed the door knocker against its plate once, twice, thrice. Satisfied that he had probably been heard, he composed his face into a charming smile and waited for a reply.
He was not kept waiting very long.
Only a moment or two later, the forest gnome’s sharp ears picked up the sound of hurrying footsteps from within and then the click of a bolt being pulled aside.
The door creaked open and a slightly portly, harried looking man clad in a fine silken robe was revealed. “Thank goodness! I was beginning to… think… that…” the man trailed off and peered about with a frown. “Bloody kids,” he growled, “I swear if I ever catch up with you I’ll-”
Beetle rolled his eyes and, ignoring the peels of laughter emanating from the link in his mind, cleared his throat. “Down here.”
The man looked down. He blinked in shock, stared in open mouthed silence for a moment or two before flushing furiously. “Oh I am so terribly sorry!” he began looking more harried than ever. “I didn’t see you and I thought that-”
The sorcerer chuckled pleasantly and made a dismissive gesture. “Please sir, think nothing of it. I have yet to meet a human who expects their visitor to be only slightly over two feet tall.”
Pushing slightly chubby fingers through his rich brown hair, the lord’s face shifted into an abashed grin. “Well no, I suppose not. Nevertheless, one never likes to get on the bad side of somebody whose help they desperately need; please come inside, do. It’s simply wretched out there, you must be frozen.”
“I am a little chilly,” the grey-skinned man replied with a grateful smile as he followed the tall human inside. “Frozen to the blasted bone,” he informed Angetenar crossly.
“Really?” the wyrm asked teasingly. “Well I’m lovely and warm and eating honey candy. Sucks to be you.”
“Oh it’ll suck to be you when I get back, you great brute,” the bard sent with a mental mock scowl as he was led down a sumptuous passageway. “I shall refuse to scratch your itches and never buy you honey candy again and…” The bard paused mid sentence as he stepped into what he supposed must be the sitting room. “Oh my,” he murmured from his position in the doorway.
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:13 pm
He hardly dared step inside the room with his wet and probably slightly mucky boots on. The floor was of a rich deep brown wood which he happened to know didn’t grow anywhere within a two-hundred mile radius. Set into the wall on his left was an exquisitely carved marble fireplace and under each of the luxurious chairs and sofas that were scattered about the room were creamy white ice-bear pelts. A glance a the ceiling revealed that the grandeur was not confined to ground level; an intricate mural depicting a battle between a force of light wyrms and one of shadows graced the smooth plaster.
“Please, do come in.”
Beetle blinked, the rich voice snapping him from his awed reverie. “Sorry,” he smiled, forcing his eyes to rest on the mundane human rather than on his stunning surroundings. “I’ve seldom seen a room as beautiful as this but I am very much aware that I have not come here to gawp at your home like some common oaf.” Almost wincing at the wet footprints he was leaving in his wake, the mage paced over to where the nobleman stood before his fire.
“His name.”
Beetle blinked again; he was beginning to feel more than a little left behind by events. “Wassat?” he asked intelligently of his wyrm friend.
A mental eye-roll was thrown his way. “Get the rich sap’s name already will you? You’ll look daft if you’ve been talking for an hour and not asked.”
“Oh!” Idiot! How could be such an idiot? You always asked for a name; always, always, always. “Er, pardon me sir,” the blond began with a slightly awkward smile. “I came here in something of a rush and somehow my superior neglected to mention your name…” Could he have phrased that any worse? Was fire hot? He’d come out sounding like a nervous idiot… which was technically speaking what he was but that didn’t mean he wanted everyone to know about it.
“Oh, how very rude of me,” the richly-clad man ran his fingers through his hair again. “My name is Lord Edward Basson… err.” The man had extended a hand for shaking out of reflex and had apparently just noticed that his guest couldn’t actually reach.
The mage gave the human a rueful smile and floated gracefully into the air to touch palms with the round-figured man; his equivalent of the usual human greeting that had been attempted. “I am generally called Beetle but you may call me whatever you wish, Lord Basson.” Repressing a nervous a shudder of discomfiture at the newly highlighted difference in their sizes, the pale-haired creature drifted back down to ground level.
It was important to remember at this stage, he felt, that it was in the human’s best interest not to step on him, kick him, throw him out of the nearest window or snap his arms like twigs. Angetenar’s friendly chuckle in the back of his mind helped with this somewhat and the grey-skinned man found himself able to gather calm to himself again. Beetle one; raging paranoia nil.
“Beetle… what an unusual name,” Lord Basson remarked with a smile. “Still, unusual name for an unusual chap I suppose; you can call me Edward by the by.”
The blond nodded. “Right then Edward, would you be so good as to fill me in on some of the details of your little problem?” Nice enough though this man seemed, the sooner he was out of here the happier he’d be. Hopefully this artefact, whatever it was, would either be simple enough for him to figure out on the spot or so complex that he had to take it back to the guild to be examined by experts.
Being away from his wyrm friend for too long felt wrong and not just for the sudden lack of protection. He had always likened their bond to a silver cord of connection running from one mind to the other and when they were too far apart or separated for long periods of time it began to feel tense and strained. Like being homesick for a person rather than a place, he supposed.
“Aww, I didn’t know you cared Bee.”
The grey-skinned gnome smiled softly. “That’s a fib,” he informed his draconic friend before turning his attention to Basson, who was looking harried again. “Edward?”
“Oh! Yes, right so sorry; please take a seat… err…” The brown haired human glanced from the high-backed armchair he had just indicated to the tiny sorcerer and back again looking embarrassed once more.
Beetle quirked a brow at the towering chair and, treating his host to a lopsided smile, floated into the air to drop down in the seat. “Thank you,” he smiled, crossing his ankles and composing his hands in his lap.
“Ah, right, wizard; silly me.” The tall lord gave a weary sigh and sank his bulky frame into a seat opposite the pale-haired bard. “So. To the matter at hand then… would you care for a drink whilst we talk?” a vague gesture was made at a mahogany cabinet with a number of decanters set atop of it. “I’ve brandies, port, whisky; name your poison, I’ve probably got it.”
Beetle smiled but shook his head. “Thank you Edward but I think I’d be better advised to keep my wits sharp for this.” Nobody ever measured out the right amount of drink for him. One ‘glass’ of any of those spirits would have his head far too muddled to do so much as tell a sleeping draught from a potion designed to purge goats of certain stomach illnesses, let alone work out what this mysterious artefact was all about.
“Ah, of course. You don’t mind if I do?” the human smiled, getting to his feet at Beetle’s nod and pacing to the cabinet. “It’s been a trying few days,” he said quietly, unstopping a crystal decanter and pouring some of the rich amber liquid into a glass. “There was a big festival here not long ago as you may know,” the tall man went on as he turned about and returned to his seat. “Merchants from all over the place selling all sorts of things. There was one chap that interested me particularly though; nondescript in face and body but what he was selling…” The noble trailed off and swirled his brandy expertly, a sigh escaping his lips.
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:15 pm
The blond watched the movement of the liquid, captivated for a moment by how the firelight shone through the crystal glass and made the liquid within glow. He’d have to find a description for that simple beauty some day, add it to his scribbled collection of poems and be laughed at by Teanr for it.
“In any case,” the portly human said with another sigh, taking a delicate sip of his drink. “What he was selling, he claimed, was magic. Everything from crystal balls to potion ingredients to magic rings…”
“Ah.” He could see where this one was going. Lord Edward had been led to believe that he was buying something that would make a wizard of him in an instant where as in truth he’d had something either cursed of faulty offloaded on him. “So you bought one of these rings?”
Lord Edward took another sip of his drink and nodded miserably. “I’ve been fascinated by magic ever since I was a boy but I never had the slightest aptitude for it. He told me that this ring brought out the magic in everybody, allowed them to find their potential, to become mages of renown with a click of their fingers. I was a fool to believe him but believe him I did; the price seemed so reasonable too… I suppose I should have suspected something from that really.”
Privately thinking ‘yes you should’ve you moron’ Beetle shook his head. “You had no way of knowing you were being deceived. For future reference though I’ve never heard of anything that can do that. Rings of power, great staves and rods and wands can only help to focus, channel and intensify what is already there. The closest thing you can get to what you described is a ring enchanted with one specific spell.” Surely anybody who knew anything about magic knew that… but then it seemed that the only thing Lord Basson knew about magic was that he wanted it.
“Ah… well thank you,” the brown-haired man sighed running a chubby hand down his pleasant face. “Still,” he went on, turning his green eyes back onto the mage before him. “The matter at hand is this ring I bought. I tried it on and it fitted me perfectly but nothing happened. After a few hours of trying things I gave up and went off to eat leaving it in the drawing room. Half way through the fish course I heard this horrible crashing and one of the maids went to investigate. She ran back in a few minutes later thinking I’d been robbed, I thought so too when I first looked about the room. Everything was overturned and thrown about but I couldn’t see anything missing, not even the ring left out in plain sight which any thief would have pounced upon.”
Beetle frowned thoughtfully and, as the human paused to take another sip of his drink, he reached out for his companion’s mind. “I don’t like this,” he sent. “Sounds like our lord Eddie here might have himself a cursed ring… I’m not sure I want to mix myself up with curses Tenar. What do you think?” If he refused to do anything at all he’d probably be forced out of the guild.
“Thought you didn’t like being told what to do by ice-creams,” Angetenar commented with a grin.
“I don’t,” the pale-skinned gnome replied. “I don’t like the idea of being cast out either though. Much as I don’t like the chain of command, the rules, the stuffiness of many of my fellows… well they accept me. I like being accepted.”
“So there’s your answer,” the wyrm replied with his usual ease. “Go along and see what’s up with this thing.”
Sending a mental nod and deciding not to think about all the horrible things the ring could be cursed with, Beetle drew himself back to the present. “I see, has anything happened since then?” If not he could hope that it was simply a wind spell ring that was somewhat faulty and cast at random.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” the richly-dressed human said with another of his deep weary sighs. “There have been… noises as well as more disturbances of the room. Moaning, crying, shouting. I don’t know what the language is but it’s one I don’t speak… not that I speak all that many but still.”
“I see,” the bard frowned, his mind working frantically. “Well… where is this ring now, I suppose I’d have to see it to tell any more about it.” Here went something then, again.
“It’s still in the drawing room, that’s the other thing I was going to say,” Lord Basson said with a nod. “Ever since the first… incident nobody has been able to move it from the table I put it down on. Something about that thing is very wrong,” he asserted with a shake of his head. “I would greatly appreciate it if you could remove it from my house, take the table if you must; goodness knows I’m not short on furniture.”
The dark-eyed sorcerer gave a nod of assent as the lord tossed off the last of his drink. “Right, you’d better show me to it then,” he said, dropping to the fur rug beneath his chair with the practiced ease of one very much used to a world made for people several times his size.
“Of course,” the tall lord replied with a tight smile, rising to his feet and turning towards a door opposite to the one they had come in through. “Just down here,” he went on, gesturing to another door at the end of the hall they had just entered.
As the human reached and opened the door, Beetle felt a shudder run through his body. “I don’t like this,” he sent to Angetenar. “Something in here is wrong, very wrong.” It felt… felt… like he didn’t know what. No graveyard, no morgue, no rotting corpse had ever given him a creeping sick feeling like this. And yet the silken-robed man strode on as though nothing was wrong. Beetle hurried after him, eyes focused on a small writing table set to look out over a window. The closer it got to it the worse the feeling got. This wasn’t good a bit.
“What, what is it?” growled the link in his mind. “What’s in there with you?”
“Something bad,” the gnome replied, looking up at Edward as the man came to a halt. “It’s on there then is it?” he asked, not even needing the man’s nod as confirmation. “Right then; let’s take a look,” he muttered, trying to pull something that vaguely resembled courage together. There was a chair before the desk and, seeing no other vantage point, the miniature mage drifted up to stand atop it.
The sight that met his eyes caused all colour to drain from his face and the sorcerer found himself forced to grip the edge of the table to keep himself from folding up. “It’s…” Grotesque, horrifying, sickening-
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:16 pm
“W-what?” Beetle blinked and tore his eyes for the indescribable sight to look up at the human who had just spoken. “Beautiful?” he asked incredulously as his gaze was drawn inexorably back to the monstrous thing. As he beheld it again however, he realised that it ought to be beautiful. The band was white gold, unmarred by blemish or scratch and set at its centre was a smooth stone hued bluer than sapphires that glowed softly. Yet it was the foulest thing he had ever laid eyes on.
“Beetle are you quite alright?” the human asked, concern ringing in his rich voice.
Thinking that maybe being a bit drunk might not have been such a bad idea, the bard nodded. “Yes, I shall be anyway… would you mind leaving me? I need to concentrate.” And possibly faint or be sick.
“…Right, of course. Call for me if you need me,” the tall lord said with a tight smile as he walked back to the door and, with a nod of gratitude, vanished from sight.
With another sick shudder of revulsion, the dark-eyed gnome turned back to the… the thing. He ought to at least know where to start but his brain had frozen; all he could think of was the ring and its strange ugliness. “Tenar,” he called faintly. “Tenar what do I do?
“Try a purging ritual for starter I guess,” the wyrm replied, suddenly all attention.
Beetle took a shuddering breath and ran a hand down his face. “Right,” he muttered aloud. “Purge, dismiss evil spirits. Right.” Sending his thanks back down the silver line, which had strengthened somewhat since his desperate plea, the bard cracked his knuckles purposefully. “I can do this,” he told the empty room.
Closing his eyes to shut out the ring, the mage began to chant melodically in gnomic. The oil lamps that lit the room dimmed and flickered in time to the flowing invocation and the blond man felt the sharp tang of magic enter the air as the ritual got into full swing. In a few moments if there were any malevolent spirits tied to the ring they would appear as pulsing points of darkness, tinged with a dark shade of whatever the spirit’s aura had been in life and then he could dismiss them.
That meant he had to open his eyes.
Pushing aside a feeling of nausea, the gnome did so.
The room was exactly as it had been when he’d closed his eyes save for the dancing flames of the oil lamps.
As soon as his chant had woven to its conclusion, Beetle cussed softly under his breath. So it wasn’t evil spirits then oh that definitely narrowed down the almost infinate number of things that could be wrong with the ring. Just great. How was he supposed to tell by looking at it where to begin?
“…By looking at it properly,” Angetenar sent softly. “Use a true-sight spell on it.”
Beetle grinned. “Now see this is why I keep you around; good thinking Tenar.” Thank all deities for that wyrm; how had he ever got along before he’d met the hybrid?
“Gods alone know,” Angetenar chortled, “maybe not even them actually. Now, get on it already. If you don’t get back soon I’m going to be very hard pushed not to eat all the honey candy.”
”I hate you,” the bard replied as he began to make passes in the air and to mutter the appropriate words of power.
“Now that’s a fib,” Angetenar responded with a mental grin before drawing to the back of his bonded’s awareness to let the sorcerer concentrate.
Not wishing to risk mutating the spell he was weaving into goodness knew what by saying ‘git,’ the bard chose to ignore his friend’s input. A few moments later his patience was rewarded by the hot white flash behind his eyeballs that signified the onset of true-sight.
Glancing down, he spotted the first change to the world. The ring’s stone now had thin black lines crisscrossing it. They looked like cell bars. “What is this thing?” he murmured, deep brown eyes dancing over the inexplicably disgusting object.
“It’s a prison.”
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:16 pm
Beetle gave a yelp of shock, spun about and succeeded in falling off the chair he had been standing on to land flat on his back. A moment later however he was looking up at the thing had just spoken. On working out what it was, he yelled again and scrabbled backwards across the floor until his progress was impeded by a wall.
“Err, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you… Do you understand me?”
The sorcerer nodded stiffly a couple of times, his eyes wide. The figure of an elven man stood before him. He was translucent, the colours of him slightly watery and he distorted the portion of the world that Beetle could see through him. Through him. Oh Gods through him.
“Oh good, I though I’d never find anyone who actually spoke elvish,” the clear creature said with a weak smile. “Please, don’t be afraid of me; I don’t mean you any harm I just need your help,” the ghostly figure gave a slightly abashed smile. “I suppose I must have caught you somewhat off guard there, sorry about that. My name is Lorquos, I gather yours is Beetle?”
“Y-yes,” the bard replied, finally managing to persuade his limbs that standing up was a good idea. He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking though and internally cursed himself for that weakness. “Are you a ghost?” he asked, feeling stupid even as the words left his mouth.
“I suppose I am,” the elf replied with a frown. “Can’t think of a better word to describe me at any rate.”
“I see… right.” So that was a ghost. Somehow he’d expected them to be… ghostier.
“You okay there?” enquired the link in his mind. “What’s happening?”
Beetle blinked, slightly disoriented by the distraction. “Ghost,” he replied. “Seems friendly, talk later.”
“So, will you help me? I’ve been trapped inside that ring for…” the elf trailed off looking distant. “I don’t know how long,” he finished eventually looking deeply wearied.
“I…” Beetle blinked, still trying to get a grip on the situation and on his shaking hands. “How did you get trapped there in the first place?” he asked, hoping to buy himself some time to get his brain back into gear.
“Oh… Well fair enough, I suppose I ought to tell you if I expect you to help me.” The insubstantial figure sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Many years ago I was a mage, a powerful one at that. As powerful magic users often do, I had a rival for the title of most powerful wizard in the land. He was… unscrupulous let us say. He challenged me to a duel to settle things once and for all. We were quite evenly matched and it could have gone either way… until he brought my sister into it.”
The bard, who had sunk into a sitting position for the telling, frowned. “Your sister?” This was sounding underhanded already.
“Yes,” Lorquos confirmed with a nod, his face going visibly tight despite its lack of substance. “He’d kidnapped her the night before apparently. He said that if I didn’t come over and declare him the more powerful she would die. Titles couldn’t compare to my sister’s life and so I approached and let him ward my magic. The moment my power was blocked he drew my soul into that ring and sealed it with my sister’s blood.”
Unable to move, unable to speak and hardly even able to breath, Beetle waited for the story to go on.
“After that… well, after that I was trapped. My power only intensified his and he was undefeated and mostly unchallenged until the day he died. He never told anyone the secret of the ring he held me in so my vessel was sold off and passed from hand to hand over the years. I kept trying to attract attention to myself but somehow I only succeeded in getting sold on. Until now.” The elven man looked down at the neatly folded gnome thoughtfully. “So, that’s my story. Will you help me escape that little piece of hell or are you going to use it to increase your own standing in the world?”
The pallid man gave a nervous half laugh and got back to his feet. “I can hardly bare to so much a look at it; I’ve no interest in possessing something like that.” Power was nice and everything but if you had too much of it people started to want to take it, thus putting you in more danger than you would have been had you been somewhat less powerful. Moderation was always better than excess.
The elf’s face lit up and he drifted over to pseudo-kneel before the pale-haired bard. “Thank you Beetle, I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this. For what it’s worth you have my eternal gratitude. Please, go back over to the ring if you will.”
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:17 pm
“Right, of course,” the sorcerer flexed his still-shaking hands a few times and, rolling his tensed shoulders, drifted back onto the chair. “What do I have to do to it?” he asked uncertainly, inspecting the shining thing with another shudder of revulsion.
“Pick it up and put it on, I’m not pinning it anymore,” the ghostly elf supplied from somewhere behind his left ear.
“Alright then,” the bard murmured, trying and failing to keep his hands steady as he reached out. An inch or two away from the metal band he froze with a shudder, retching at the prospect of coming into contact with the horrible thing. It was like volunteering to hold a poisonous spider.
“…Beetle? Are you alright?”
The mage grunted a response and, biting down on his tongue so hard that he tasted the metallic tang of blood, thrust his hand out and slipped the ring onto his left thumb. A moment later there was a slight distortion of the magic in the air and the ring contracted sharply to fit its new wearer perfectly.
Beetle just about managed not to be sick. “R-right,” he said shakily. “What do I do to it now?”
“Err… it needs… it needs blood,” Lorquos mumbled uncomfortably. “It needed blood taken unwillingly to seal me in so logically blood given willingly ought to release me.”
The bard held his hand as far away from himself as he could and contrived not to look at it. “I see,” he said with brittle brightness. “Any idea how much? I don’t exactly have a lot to spare you see.” Great. He really didn’t like bleeding… but he’d said he would help. He couldn’t back out on that now and expect somebody back at the guild to volunteer because he was too much of a coward to shed a little blood.
“I don’t think it need be much,” the elf replied, his ethereal voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. “When I was trapped all it took was for the stone to be coated.”
Great, so for all he knew he could bleed himself dry and still do no good. “Well I suppose all I can do is try,” the dark-eyed gnome said aloud, still trying not to look at the ring. He was actually going to have to put a knife against his skin and press down, to watch red blood well up and spill onto this… this thing. “It occurs to me to ask,” he murmured faintly. “What happened to your sister?”
“Once he was done with her he killed her,” Lorquos said stiffly. “He wasn’t willing to risk her telling of what he’d done.”
“I see.” Oh dear. So he had no way of knowing if sealing the ring had affected her and therefore no indicator of whether or not it would affect him. “Well… I’d best get on with this, hadn’t I?” the pale-faced sorcerer asked rhetorically as he dropped his right hand to his belt and touched the bone hilt of the dagger he kept there.
“…You don’t have to go through with it you know,” the ghost said softly, unable to keep the longing from his light voice. “I understand your reservations and really this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Beetle drew the knife and regarded the gleaming metal of the blade with trepidation. His reflection looked back at him, paler than he’d expected it to be and more drawn. “This has everything to do with me,” he muttered, still watching the well honed weapon. “I said I would do this and I damned if I’m going to go back on my word. If you’re right it’s just a bit of blood and no harm done.” Yet if the elf was wrong…
The bard shuddered and, pushing such thoughts aside, brought the knife down against his left palm before he could change his mind again. He drew the dagger away, its edge coated in blood, and tucked his left thumb inside his fist so that the blue stone pressed up against the freshly made wound.
For a heartbeat nothing happened.
In the next moment however, just as he had been about to comment on the lack of activity, a piercing scream escaped the ring and the dark-eyed mage felt the stone twist and writhe against his flesh.
Letting out a scream of his own he opened his hand, thinking to wrench the thing off and throw it as far away as he could. As he did so however he found himself blinded by the intense blue light that had replaced the ring’s gentle glow. As he closed his eyes against the harsh light the tiny creature felt a strong wind pick up and begin to pluck at his hair and clothes. This couldn’t be good.
A moment later he was proved right for the wind took on a new quality. Now, as well as buffeting him physically, he felt as though the gale was trying to pull something out of his chest.
Snapping his eyes open he turned to where the elf-ghost had last been. Despite being incorporeal, the spectral mage was being buffeted too. “What’s happening?” the grey-skinned man demanded, raising his bloodied hand to clutch at the increasing pain in his chest.
“I don’t know!” the insubstantial being replied, his eyes wide as he stared about. “I didn’t expect anything like this! Oh Gods look!”
Beetle’s eyes turned immediately down to where the ghost was pointing, to the ring on his thumb. Though it was hard to see though the brilliant glow, he was able to make out the bar-like lines he had first spotted with true-sight bending and twisting. All but two of them were snapped. As he watched, the penultimate line gave a huge twist and broke. The moment it did, he gasped as the searing pain increased another notch.
“Bee!”
The panicked cry reached him just as the final bar contorted a notch too far and sundered at the center. Instead of replying to his companion’s call, Beetle found himself screaming aloud as the pain become unbearable. With every beat of his heart the agony seemed to intensify, it felt as though something hot and sharp was inside him and trying to jerk free.
An eternal moment later, it did.
With a resounding snap the bard felt as though he was being jerked backwards and he opened his eyes, which he had screwed tight shut when the final line broke.
He was just in time to see his body collapse and fall limply to the floor. Before he could register any more of what was going on, the world went black and awareness was stolen from him.
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:18 pm
*****
The next thing he was aware of was a hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. Groaning, he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. “What… Oh.” It was Lorqous and he wasn’t transparent anymore. “Oh Gods… Am I dead?” He didn’t feel dead, not that he knew what being dead felt like, but he didn’t feel alive either.
“I don’t think so,” the elf said with a shake of his head. “I am,” he went on, “but you… you shouldn’t be.”
Beetle sat up slowly and looked about at his surroundings. He seemed to be sitting on a hilltop in a world shaded only in greys. “What is this place?” It wasn’t anywhere he recognised even taking the oddity in colouring into account.
“This is Between,” the tall figure said easily, sinking into a sitting position beside the gnome. “We are the only things with colour as we are the only real things here. It’s just an image put up by your mind because it doesn’t know what else to show you. This is where souls wait to be taken to wherever it is they’re going. The reason I don’t think you’re dead is because you’re not solid.”
The sorcerer looked down at himself. Indeed he wasn’t; in fact he looked very much like Lorquos had done before whatever had happened to them happened.
“What’s that on your wrist?” the elf asked, a frown furrowing his brow.
Beetle inspected looked down and, as he spotted what the other being was referring to, he smiled. A fine silver line ran out from his pulse-point, hanging like a floating snake in the air for a few feet before fading away to nothing.
“That’s my way home, I think,” the blond replied with a grin as he got to his feet.
The elf relaxed somewhat. “Oh good,” he smiled, “I was worrying about how to get you back. Good luck to you then Beetle and please, keep the ring. It oughtn’t to be anything more than a pretty bauble now.”
The brown-eyed creature smiled back. “Thank you Lorqous and good luck to you as well. I hope you find your sister.”
“Thank you, I’m sure I shall; farewell friend.”
Beetle nodded and gave the line a tug. “Farewell.”
The moment his parting had left his lips he felt the tug he had sent out returned hundredfold and the world went black again.
*****
“I-is he alright?”
“I don’t know you great lard tub so shut up and let me concentrate.”
Something nudged him gently and a keening noise reached his ears. That was Tenar. The blond groaned softly and, eventually, managed to prize his eyes open. Worried ruddy eyes and a purple snout danced in and out of focus before him and he groaned again, giving up on keeping his eyes open for the time being.
“Hey, c’mon Bee; wake up already.”
At the next nudge, the bard decided that he wasn’t going to be left in peace and made a second effort at consciousness. “Ow.” He managed, opening his eyes again and staring up at his wyrm friend. “What happened?” he asked dazedly, forcing himself into a sitting position. The world swung about him and he closed his eyes again.
“I don’t know,” the massive striped creature replied. “But… but you were gone for a while there. I don’t know where but… but I couldn’t feel you.” The half-blooded wyrm sunk down beside him, settling himself so that the exhausted mage could lean back against his flank for support.
“Are you quite well Beetle?” asked the Lord Edward’s voice from somewhere beyond the bard’s eyelids.
Beetle forced himself to observe the world once more and swung his gaze around to regard the portly man with a weak smile. “Not quite, but close I think. Problem solved by the way,” he added, raising he still bleeding left hand so that the noble could inspect the ring he wore on the thumb. The glow and the horror, that had been visible only to the mage, had gone out of it leaving merely a pretty band and an interesting blue stone.
The brown-haired human relaxed slightly and gave the gnome a grin. “Wonderful, I can’t thank you enough for this… Perhaps you would like to rest in the sitting room? It’s more comfortable there and your ah… your friend can come too of course.”
The sorcerer gave his host a tired smile in reply; leave it to the gentry to be polite about the unexpected. “Thank you, that sounds wonderful. I’ll have that drink now too if I may.” Gods did he need it after that experience. “Not sure I can stand up right now though,” he added with a rueful smile.
“Of course, I’ve no idea what you just did but you certainly look exhausted,” Lord Basson replied with a bob of his head. “Err… if I may?” this last was directed at Angetenar as he approached the pair cautiously.
The wyrm gave the human his equivalent of a smile and turned his head away unthreateningly. “Seem like a decent guy,” the hybrid commented as the silk-clad man took another couple of steps forward and stooped to lift the tiny mage up off the floor.
“Mmm, quite,” Beetle replied as he was carried towards the door. “Not sure I’d’ve agreed to help him if I knew what it entailed though.”
There was a soft series of creaks from the floor boards as the wyrm rose to pace after the two humanoids. “So what exactly did happen?” he quizzed as he ducked awkwardly through the doorway to the hall.
Beetle smiled faintly to himself and allowed his eyes to drift closed again. “Angetenar my friend,” he replied softly, “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
~fin~
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