A Ruined Mansion In Mordent

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Guardian of Twilight
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A Ruined Mansion In Mordent

Post by Guardian of Twilight »

The pale light of the sun filtered through the sparse clouds above. Even though the light seemed as hollow as the ruined mansion behind him, it was a welcome relief to Nathaniel Hawke and his party. What had started off as trying to rid an area of false ghost hunters had turned into something far worse.

Shortly after fleeing the burning manor and retrieving his horse from the stables, he had turned his mount in the direction of Mordent. There he had spent a great deal of time (and money) in trying to discover information that would help set his feet on the path of paying off Buchvold. The wizard hadn't actually given him any information that he hadn't already gleaned from the twins or anyone else he had spoken to. He had gained nothing, but given the wizard a dupe to send off after magical trinkets. His own obsession had overruled common logic. A logic that he had relied upon to keep his feet on the proper path. He felt no longer like his own man, but more like a puppet having his strings manipulated from hundreds of miles away. Then one night as he sat pouring over some old tomes, he overheard a tale that piqued his interest: an old mansion sat abandoned, and apparently someone or something was taking up residence there. But stranger still were the reports of lights, moans, and shrieks that emanated from within the once proud building. And so it was that he gathered up his companions and set off at once for this manor.

When they had arrived, they found traces of people who had camped inside the manor and then carefully tried to conceal the fact that anyone had even been there. As Nathan and his party left to get a few supplies from the nearby settlement, they felt pretty sure that they were facing a mortal adversary; one of flesh and blood. Yet as they spoke with the townsfolk about the manor and its dark past, a brief shadow of doubt passed before them. While the party wizard had done his part in explaining away a great deal of the sightings, (ghost sound, dancing lights, etc.) a few things that the locals said just didn't quite add up. And yet, the party made their way in to the ruined manor...

As the clouds parted and the sunlight gained strength in the sky, Nathan turned to help his friends load up their gear on their horses. His hand paused over an old scabbard and longsword that had been taken from the bowels of the manor. The wizard had told him that it did indeed possess some form of magical property, but just what type would take time and study. And so it was that they began to head back to town to rest up and give the wizard the time that he needed to investigate the mysteries of the blade.

The road stretched before them, and evening was beginning to fall as they turned their horses back in the direction of the small town.
Last edited by Guardian of Twilight on Fri Dec 29, 2006 9:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[i]Seek not in the shadows, for there ye shall find secrets too terrible for mortal man to bear. [/i]
-Mordentish proverb
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Rotipher of the FoS
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

OOC: Kind of a different style of post, here. Feel free to disregard this one if you think it's too silly, folks! :wink:



(Same February evening, also in Mordent)


Good-Boy-Rex hadn’t had such a wonderful time since he’d died.

It was the sticks, that made him saddest. There was something wrong with the sticks in the yard. If he tried hard, Good-Boy-Rex could remember when they worked right: when he could pick up a stick in his teeth, way back in the back where his jaws were strongest, and chew off the bark and the twigs, and feel its firmness yielding to his patient chewing. He’d felt like a good dog, then – like a good guard or a good hunter, stripping meat from a big tasty bone he’d earned for being such a Good-Boy-Rex – even if the Person hadn’t thrown them. If the Person did throw the sticks, that was best of all; that was wonderful, that was right. Fetching the sticks for the Person had been better than anything, the very best part of his job.

But the Person had been gone for a long, long time. All the persons had been. And the sticks didn’t work right – weren’t there, weren’t solid, didn’t crunch and yield between his teeth – when he tried to pick them up. Good-Boy-Rex was alone, and the Cottage he guarded was still and dark and empty, and the wagons he could remember chasing for fun in his puppyhood sent him cowering into the bushes, when their drivers passed by the Cottage smelling of haste and of fear.

Good-Boy-Rex didn’t like the wagons. Something Bad had happened, once: something about a wagon, and big heavy iron-shod hooves, and spinning clattering wheels that he’d thought he could outrun … and couldn't.

He’d kept on doing his job like a Good-Boy-Rex, after the Bad Something. He had tried to guard the Cottage and please the Person. But the Person had shied and run – had run from him! – smelling of fear and of grief and of confusion. All of the persons ran away, when Good-Boy-Rex barked at them. Whether his barks were Happy-Hello-Barks or You-Go-Away-Barks made no difference. Now there was no one in the Cottage to guard, and no Person to throw the sticks and rub his tummy and call him a Good-Boy-Rex. And even the sticks were wrong.

This stick worked right.

It was his job to guard the Cottage, of course. Good-Boy-Rex knew he was a good dog – a good guard and a good hunter – and he would hunt this person if the person tried to go inside. He’d done that before, and more than once, since the Bad Something happened and the Person went away. But Good-Boy-Rex was happy that this person hadn’t tried to go inside, and that this person hadn’t run away, when he barked at him. This new person had stood at the edge of the yard, and put something like a shiny metal stick in his mouth – how funny, a person chewing on sticks like Good-Boy-Rex used to! – and the shiny metal something made noises, and the noises did strange things to Good-Boy-Rex’s barks until he smelled this person was not afraid, so he stopped barking.

Good-Boy-Rex was lonely. He missed the Person. This person wasn’t the Person, but at least this one had not run away and left him. Good-Boy-Rex, nervous, whined at the new person, wary.

The new person threw a stick.

Good-Boy-Rex chased it. Good-Boy-Rex caught it, between his teeth. Good-Boy-Rex could catch it! This stick – this new person’s stick – worked right!!! And when he brought it back, like he'd brought sticks back to the Person, the new person picked it up and threw it again!

For what seemed like hours, Good-Boy-Rex played fetch with the new person and the wonderful stick.

The stick that worked right wasn’t like the sticks in Good-Boy-Rex’s yard. The stick that worked was hard and smooth and black, and one end of the stick was a strange shape, like a bird with a long tail. There was something strange about the taste of the new person’s stick – it tasted like metal, but smelled like wood – and about how it felt so much thinner than it looked, between Good-Boy-Rex’s teeth. When Good-Boy-Rex took it to the new person and dropped it at the new person’s feet, to be thrown again, no marks of dog-teeth were left on the stick’s polished surface, even though he’d gripped it very tightly.

None of this mattered, could matter, to Good-Boy-Rex. It was a stick he could chase, a stick he could fetch! The new person threw it again, and Good-Boy-Rex brought it back again, and wagged his tail to the new person, and each time he did that the new person’s voice called him a good boy like the Person used to.

Might this new person maybe, just maybe, be a new Person for Good-Boy-Rex...?

Good-Boy-Rex was loyal to the Person, knew he must be loyal to the Person just as he was loyal to the Cottage he guarded. Being a good dog meant being loyal, always. But it had been so long – longer than Good-Boy-Rex could even imagine – since the old Person ran away and left him…

The new person threw the stick again, and Good-Boy-Rex caught it and brought it back.

This time, the new person kept the stick, and leaned on it, holding the end that was shaped like a bird while the other end rested on the ground. The new person’s voice spoke kindly to Good-Boy-Rex, and Good-Boy-Rex wagged his tail. Good-Boy-Rex wondered if the new person would scratch him behind the ears – it was always hard to hit just the right itchy spot, with his own hind feet – but the new person didn’t do that. Instead, the new person hid the stick behind the person’s back.

Then the new person threw the stick into the yard again, very suddenly, to surprise Good-Boy-Rex. Good-Boy-Rex yipped, and spun in a circle like he was chasing his tail, and ran after the stick. Chasing the stick thrown by surprise was even better!

Good-Boy-Rex brought the stick back. The new person lifted the stick, and held it high up over Good-Boy-Rex’s head. How exciting! Good-Boy-Rex jumped up, to grab at the stick – once, twice – until he caught it. The new person and Good-Boy-Rex wrestled for the stick. Jumping up to catch the stick was even better than better!

Get it, boy, urged the new person. Get the stick! Good boy….

Good-Boy-Rex felt like shivering all over with excitement. He was a good boy, again! A person – no, a Person! – called him a good boy! Good-Boy-Rex barked happily, and the new Person’s singsong voice praised him, called him a faithful, dutiful, wonderful dog.

Then the new Person held the stick up out of reach, and put it behind the Person’s back again. Good-Boy-Rex spun in a circle, yipping, crazy-excited. Both the new Person’s hands were behind the Person’s back! Who knew which hand might hold the stick? Who knew which way the new Person would throw it, next? Not knowing which way the stick might go would be better than better than better: the best stick-game of all!

There was a little ‘click’ and a sliding sound, behind the Person’s back, and then the new Person was holding the stick up high again. Ecstatic with the game and the knowledge he wasn’t abandoned and alone, anymore, Good-Boy-Rex leapt straight up in the air to catch hold of it.

Good-Boy-Rex’s teeth passed right through the hollow black wood of the stick, just like all the other sticks that didn’t work…

…and that was the end of Good-Boy-Rex’s game, and his guarding, and his loneliness.

One down, one to go, mused the bard, as he wiped down the enchanted rapier's ghost-piercing blade. Just as I’d promised in November, I owe you boys such a favor – all the more so, after I borrowed your names for my cover-story – and this blackbird pays his debts. Even if it is a ghastly bother, cleaning ectoplasmic drool from the inside of a damn sword-cane…
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Guardian of Twilight »

Nathaniel and his party spent the next several days resting up and the wizard kept himself locked away, studying. He had only come from his room once, and that was to ask Nathan for the sword that had been found. He had quietly handed it over, and the wizard had retraced his steps back to his own door. Now, as everyone sat in the quiet common room of the hostel, the wizard made his first appearance. He walked over and sat down beside Nathan, who sat alone at a small table writing in his journal.

"Well, my studies are complete. The blade is as I said. It is enchanted to be a bit lighter and more effective in the hands of a capable user."

"Hm."

"That's all that you have to say? Hm? I'm not sure if you truly understand the implications of what I have just said, Nathan. Enchanted weapons don't exactly come along every day, you know. They are to be..."

Nathan slowly lowered his pen and raised his gaze to his companion. "I understand full well what you are saying, my friend. But regardless of what little treasure we have found, I am obliged to turn it over to Buchvold. I gave him my word."

"The damned wizard holds you under the effects of a spell, Nathan!"

"Be that as it may, I still gave him my word to assist him in procuring enchanted items in exchange for information on the creature that I seek." He held up his hand to stop his companion from going off on one of his tirades. "Yes, I know that I already had the information that he passed on to me, but I didn't know that at the time. And yes, next time someone wants to pass information along to me, I'll be sure to first make certain that the information is something new and revealing, and that I don't sign anything. Will that make you happy?"

The wizard scowled at him for a moment before begrudgingly nodding his head in the affirmative. "But you might want to at least take someone else with you next time."

Nathan gave him a small smile. "Fair enough, Marcus. Go and get something to eat. And also, inform everyone that we will be leaving town in a couple of days."

"Very well. Try and get some rest Nathan. You look terrible." With that, the wizard left him to join the rest of his companions.

Rest is not what I find when I close my eyes, old friend. I merely find all of the sins that I have committed and all of my failures replayed again and again before my eyes. Especially my biggest failure. His gaze shifted over to the fire as a chill slid its cold fingers down his spine and seemed to freeze his very soul. With that, he got up and made his way up the stairs to his room where he could be alone with his thoughts. Before he sat down on the bed, he closed the curtain on his window that gave him a view of the street outside. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Then he reopened them and slowly looked around his cold, empty room.

"I need to talk to you," he said.
Last edited by Guardian of Twilight on Fri Aug 03, 2007 12:24 am, edited 2 times in total.
[i]Seek not in the shadows, for there ye shall find secrets too terrible for mortal man to bear. [/i]
-Mordentish proverb
User avatar
Guardian of Twilight
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Post by Guardian of Twilight »

First thing's first, I would like to apologize for being gone so long and not being able to finish my character's tale along with everyone else. A lot of things came up, and I was unable to do what I had promised myself and others that I would do. So Rotipher and Moral Machivelli, I would like to say I am sorry for the delay and also thank you for being so patient.

And now, in an attempt to redeem myself...


Slowly around him, an image was taking form. In the span of just a few heartbeats, there she was. Her long raven black hair fell softly down her back and his mind instantly recalled the scent of lavender, her favorite flower. Her eyes still sparkled like sapphires, and there he could still see the love that she held for him in their depths, yet also present was a longing that broke his heart. He reached his hand out to press back the locks of her dark hair from her face as he had always done, but stopped himself. His hand hung there in midair. She slowly reached her own hand out to touch his, even though their fingertips would never again touch in this life.

"Sarah," he said. She smiled and knelt before him with her hands close to his own. She wore still her favorite gown of snow white. One that he had always thought made her look like a statue carved of pure marble, yet offset by her brilliant eyes and her long, dark hair. It was the same gown that she had worn when he proposed to her only a couple of years before.

"I am sure that you know everything that has transpired over the last few months, my love," he started. "I feel that I am closer now to finding what I am looking for. I spoke with Buchvold and he told me that in truth I am the one that..."

His words trailed off and his voice died. As the tears came slowly down his cheeks he shifted his gaze from her face to the floor, unable to meet her eyes.

Her hand came into view then, reaching out to caress his face. His head slowly came up and he looked her full in the eyes. "I swear, I didn't know what would happen. If only there were some way to set all this right! We deserved a happy life together, you and I. Not this. Never this."

He turned away from her to stare at the closed drapes in his room. After a moment, she stood in front of him again, watching him with tears in her eyes. She reached out to touch him again, and he reached out for her. She started to say something, but the knocking at the door stopped whatever the words were going to be. He watched as she disappeared from his sight and made his way over to the door of his room, wiping his eyes. Opening it, he saw Marcus standing outside.

He looked at Nathan's eyes for a moment, but said nothing of the haunted look that he saw there. "Nathan, you had better come have a look at this," he said.
[i]Seek not in the shadows, for there ye shall find secrets too terrible for mortal man to bear. [/i]
-Mordentish proverb
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