The Darkness

While we had cut and dodged through pockets of the inky, cloying stuff, we desperately moved to keep ahead of it as well, for even as I made the declaration to return, the Blackness had already gained ground on us. Creatures of madness, mixed with panicked wildlife, all fleeing inwards, away from the crawling, persistent poison that Morhaig had not precisely unleashed upon Seahaven, but instead, took the Aartiran's greatest mistake, and turned it against them a million fold.

It was at best, slow going, the storms that had pelted the fields and city for the last week, had not been gentle nor kind to the surrounding landscape. Fallen trees, swollen creeks turned into raging rivers, carrying with it houses and broken timber, and countless lives. It was clear just how bad it was, when we reached the north end of Milford, moving as quickly down the mountain pass as the jagged, dangerous terrain would allow.

The river that borders Milford, was nearly triple its normal width from shore to shore, and had already taken down a row of homes that lines the east side, cutting a massive gouge out of the small town. Luckily, we did not have to cross that swift, swallowing body of water, we instead, made our way as best we could along its flooded edge, and then cut west into the fields. I was not sure exactly what it was that I was going to do...but I had to DO something.

It occurred to me as we ran, panting heavily, not even feeling the cold, ignoring the wind, pushing back the exploding pain in my lungs with each heaving breath, that I had warned them. Repeatedly. I predicted this for years, tried in vain to get the throne, the pack, that damnable meathead in charge of the Royal Guard, the city Watch..I plead with them, upon deaf ears, to DO something about what was happening in our world. About the Darkness, about the corruption, to organize, and think of something beyond their own selfish immediate needs! Time and time again, I was rebuffed, and my warnings downplayed or entirely ignored. Even my attempts at altering the course of things myself, of trying to push back the Darkness with my own sacrifice was met with hostility and threats of arrest, even by those that claimed once to be my friends.

We fled across the fields, Balkoth and I, and even then, in my most desperate hour, I looked over towards him and was grateful that he was there. I knew that he too, had no idea what to do, but he came with me none the less, knowing it was all but hopeless. The road was washed out in places, and somewhere along the way, the tavern that had so many times offered me a warm place to rest, was gone, just a half collapsed chimney thrusting out of a pile of broken boards and debris remained at the side of the road. I did not have time to consider if there was anyone in there when it fell, for even as I hated the city and the corruption it represented, I knew there was still good people there, and they would need help.

The beach was awash with driving rains and massive waves, some of which would reach all the way to the road, and momentarily flood it as it swept across its surface. We timed our sprint, to match the wave's withdrawal, and hopscotched across the worst of the sea threw our way until we reached the city gates. It stood intact, but swinging open in the wind, banging against the stone wall, unattended, no guard, no lit torch to welcome the late night traveler. We burst through without stopping, and turned towards the north, headed towards Trygon's bar. It was still his bar in my mind, I barely was able to clean the place up for Shay before circumstance took me away from it and his memory, and sent me once more into the chaos.

The city at first, seemed to be abandoned, doors left open, windows without light, but it was soon apparent as we moved towards the Square, that voices, rising in anger and panic, carried up and over the storm and made themselves known. As we arrived, the High Commander was shouting above the crowd, bellowing orders to try to gain some semblance of control over a wild-eyed mob, as the Darkness itself began to finger across the sky over head, the storm being suffocated by the inky stillness, the absolute cold of Morhaig's Vengeance.

The crowd dispersed, much like a stampede, south towards the gate, but I knew there was no point in joining the flight, and instead my grey, defeated eyes met Balkoth's and remained there for a moment or two. I reached my hand for him, but the mass of people that surged through the street, separated us and cast us apart like leaves upon the water. I was able to scramble up and out of the flow, using an awning to lift myself out of harms way for a moment, and pull myself up to a low roof, but it also filled my eyes with an unblemished view of what was going on in the sky, and the streets beyond the square. The Darkness, had broken over the walls, and eaten them whole, along with the noble district, and it was closing, while to the west, it appeared to already have hold of the Two Lion's and was moving this way.

It was too late. I could do nothing. I was...beaten. I had sworn I would never let Morhaig win, so long as I still breathed life. But here I was, watching her victory, one she had won so completely, and it shattered my heart. Looking upwards, the last of the storm disappeared from sight, and a silence began to claim the area. Yes...I remember this. I remember the silence, the cold, and I remember very clearly, the pain that is to soon come. Each person who was enveloped, each one, did the same thing. They ran, screaming from the closing Darkness, and then went utterly silent as they were overcome.

It was quieter now, as I gaze back down into the square, Kelindel was there, standing utterly dumbfounded, his useless sword in hand, watching as Fate closed in around those few that remained. Balkoth. I searched the square, but he was no where to be seen. Did he still live? I prayed he was safe, but I knew he was not. I sighed, looking down at my grey hands, battle scarred and empty. "so, I end up dying in this damned stoned cage after all", the words murmured quietly, and yet, in the now almost deafening silence, the words rung like a bell in the night.

Looking up, my eyes close, and my mind goes to Balkoth, if only we had had more time. It goes to Shay, my poor, broken sister, had I only been able to save her. To Trygon, my old love, my shattered friend, I dearly pray that Balor honors and understands the price he paid for his devotion. Finally, it rests upon my first love, my reason to exist, my point and purpose, my mind goes to Sykala, and along with it, my heart. As the cold envelopes me and my ears fill with silence the insanity of the familiar pain begins to crawl once more over my skin, I wonder to myself, if the Gods of that pathetic, but desperately missed little world, consider the loss of Dark Isles, worth it all.

Desent into Madness

When I look back now, I try desperately, to pinpoint the one event that lead to the chaos that began to overtake the small, struggling world I knew. But alas, there is no one thing, no moment in time that dictated the outcome. No, it was so many things, so many influences, of selfish men and foolish women, so many blindly led souls lost to madness.

Balkoth was the first to alert me to the corruption within the new Alpha, the similarities between the former and the new beginning to show almost immediately. It was becoming clear the pack, while under new leadership, was just three, and while I was clearly more pack than either of them, I was odd man out, so to speak. Rarely trusted, rarely consulted, as the pack quickly moved away once more from what it was meant to be.

Balkoth kept me focused, kept me driven, pushing me and finally it was he that convinced me to leave, and strike out once more into the Wild Night. We searched for a path, a safe way through the mountains, a tunnel perhaps, leading beneath the Darkness..to, somewhere, anywhere else! A small pocket of islands had been discovered recently, ship travel opened to the Skrell homelands, perhaps there was more people, more places that still existed beyond our knowing, out there past the relentless insanity that was unleashed upon this world.

We departed, just before the storms hit Seahaven. Our advantage was only hours ahead of the wrath of Sykala as he lay waste to the fields and the city itself that relentlessly and selfishly abused His gifts. The fury of the storm overtook us in the mountains, the winds becoming biting, the terrain, treacherous. Finally, even Balkoth's tough blue skrel'eth hide began to wither beneath the onslaught, and we were driven to find cover.

We waited out days of endless frozen winds and driving rain and sleet, tucked into a small cavern, little more than a crag that barely fit us both. Still, we were protected from the winds, and of course, Balkoth had come prepared, as he always did, and we survived, for the time being. It was only an hour after day break, the sun creeping up over the crest of the mountain tops, showing a dazzling blue sky were we able to see the walls of Darkness, closing towards us. Those walls, were once static, shifting yes, at some points, during some rare, and usually terrifying events, but this, this was different. You could see the barrier, in nearly all directions, from our vantage point high up upon a mountain peak, yes you could actually see the Darkness..slowly contracting, moving inevitably towards Seahaven and what small refuge the fields still offered.

He knew, before I did, that I would return, I HAD to try to help, try to prevent what was coming.

Succession

My nose caught Alpha's trail and he was not alone. The breeze brought me another scent on the wind, and something urged me towards them both. They were not all that far ahead of me now, but beyond the range of my ears still. They moved north through the trees, towards an all too familiar place, and my pace picked up as soon as I realized where they were headed. I had said I would be there, and I was hell bent to make sure I was.

I stared into the water of the warm pool, seeing the odd reflection of the crystal cave beyond, a trick of the light, an optical illusion of sorts, and I spot my quarry, and apparently, theirs as well, all standing it seemed with copies of themselves, three times over. I stared and marveled at the oddity as I do every time I see it before I gave my head a shake and dove into the water. I came up into the pretty little cave, dripping wet yet focused on the naked pair the wolves had hunted down finally.

I was embarrassed for them both, for neither of them seemed to have the self respect to be so for themselves. The Fallen made me cringe, listening as he turned from insolent egomaniac to pathetic and pleading in a few short minutes, all the while calling upon my sister's name in order to spare himself his fate. How he could stand there and beg to be allowed to remain in Pack lands...using her as his shield, while his naked wench stood three paces away? Wolves mate for life...

I bared my teeth at her and she scurried away, apparently 'One' is brighter than she seems. Once the pale impostor was gone, it was far easier to focus on the task at hand, as Alpha showed his true colors, and impressed me. He was firm, concise and yet not so arrogant as to not consult and respect his subordinates. The entire matter was settled quickly and without bloodshed, for now and that was far better than I had hoped for.

There may still be trouble ahead, but we had survived our first task as Pack. I see not only Alpha but another as well, one I had not expected such cooperation from, in a new more, appreciative light. It leaves me hopeful, which I will confess, is a rare thing. Can it be possible, that there is hope still....for the Pack?

The Value of Vows

He and I work as one, the structure slowly but surely taking shape, the first of those to come. Pulling the skins taut over the poles, the strength between the pair of us ensuring the surface smooth and securely in place as we lash it down. "do it" I confirm, "tie it off" and then we both step back and look upon the teepi. "I hope you like it...it's yours" he announces to me. I am not sure what I expected really, I knew how he felt. But still...another home? What is that now? Five? Still, when he looked at me and said, "I want you to stay..." I looked back at him and simply...wanted to.

So yet another tent lies abandoned in the fields, and my things move with me once more. He is right, this...truly is a sacred place, and here above all else, must be protected, by blood if necessary. Those who steal from Sykala himself chooses to face those devoted to protecting his domain. The Crown at least has seen the abuse of the fields, the lands themselves, and taken measures to conserve what little we have. Do they not realize that this little patch of wilderness is all that is left?...if we let it fall to ruin, they ensure the end for us all. The greedy and the foolish will spell disaster if left unchecked. I for one have vowed to not let that happen.

Vows, indeed, I have pledged my fangs and my spear to a new Alpha. I was not convinced, am still even now, skeptical. But how I have hoped and prayed for someone to step forth and take charge, show what leadership is meant to be, what sacrifice and commitment means. I have taken a risk, and placed the last of my shattered faith in this Wolf. Surprisingly, I am not the only one he swayed....and the Pack...lives again, in greater numbers than has been seen for some time. Let us hope we can move and be one as we should, one focused being instead of a pack of snarling mutts bent on our own demise.

I have managed, to meet the requirements the Cloaks have in place to ensure I keep the tavern. I am once more, surprised. I own a bar..and a bird that will likely out live me. The apartment lies empty still, and I have no idea what to do with the space. For now, it goes unused.

I long for martial law to end, so I can forsake my authority in the city. Every time I set foot within the walls, I am drawn into something I would rather ignore. The games and power struggles between the peasantry and the nobility, the cat and mouse games of the Night Demons and the Vek. Yes I am little more than a glorified demon hunter, but that suits me just fine. I know my place out in the fields, but within the walls, I am caged and yet further and further I am being draw into the dirty little world within them.

He once asked me to decide, decide where my heart lies...is it possible that I must choose one part of me, and sacrifice the rest? I hope it is not necessary, I hope a balance can be struck, I pray, that peace can be found without having to cut away something I love to achieve it. But it is said, if it is worth having, it is worth fighting and sacrificing for. It is very unlikely I will come out at the other end with all of me intact. Something will have to give....

Resignation and Resolve

"what is her fucking problem?"

Those words echo in my mind, swirling around in my skull like a leaf caught in an updraft. Does he think I can not see that pale version of me that follows him around, pretending to be some sort of replacement for her. Does he think I can not smell her offensive odor in the den? I know they are FAR too close already, my sister only gone a few days and he is already ready to take another. He had brought that ridiculous imposter into HER home while she struggled to feed and care for HIS offspring. All the while, he spews his meek little questions after her at me, as if -that- will convince me he is not a traitorous bastard. No wonder she left. I knew long ago how selfish he is, but it took a great deal of pain endured by my sister for her to figure it out too. I would not tell her, I could only support her as she figured it out herself.

The trip into the mountains to retrieve a body, proved unfortunately necessary. I had hoped the rantings of that idiot were proven false, but, after scouting the pass, taking on dangerous game, and putting up with infuriating company, there it was. Another of the Cloaks has fallen. It occurred to me as I claimed his belongings, after dragging his body down from the cliffs, that he did not seem to care for me much. It was a shame, I had truly hoped he might save us, unite us somehow, remind me..teach me, what a true leader is meant to be. But sadly, he has passed from this world, and now I must seek out the only person I have ever seen him show a true interest in, and tell her he is dead.

Bless him, my companion, my friend, my confidante. He is simply there, offering what he can, always given without expectation or demand. He beats me relentlessly with his frustrating, barbaric logic, and time and time again, successfully makes his point. He distracts me with his dreams and goals, pulling me out of the downward spiral of sorrow and anger, and keeps me balanced, gives me reason and hope. He is the only person left who would noticed if I passed, who would mourn the loss of me. I am thankful the Storm Father has brought him to me, for I think I would have lost my mind without him. He helped me survive the plague, helped me regain my lost memories, helped me retain my temper against those that invoke my fury, and gives me reason to do more than throw myself in the path of poison and pain.

Yes, thank you Storm Father.....once more, it takes me entirely too long to see the gifts you bring.

Once Again, an Only Child

She's gone.

I speak of her reasons, and I am calm when I do. I do not let it show, just how much her leaving cuts me. I do not take it personally, I know why she did, why she needed to, and she was right, it was the only way. If she stayed, things would have just gotten worse for her. I know I would have tried to be there, and put in as much effort as I could possible spare for her, but in the end, she would have been alone with those who tormented her heart and so, I can not blame her for going. I can only miss her. Every time I think I can finally spend time with her again, we are cast apart by fate for weeks or months on end. She is the last of my shattered family and she is gone and try as I might, I can not help but feel abandoned.

I stand there, in the clean, empty apartment, and it occurs to me, that before he gave me this place, I did not even know it existed. I loved him once, long ago, but had never seen the inside of his home. He had always been found, wandering the expansive boundaries of mine. Now, here I am, with his cast off leftovers of a broken life, all crated and tucked away, and I wonder, what am I going to do with it this place?

I do not have time to dwell, even with my sister's departure, there is still so much to do. I fill the bowl full of seed for squawking masse of misery upon the perch, and count my fingers when I turn away. "I will be back tomorrow Scarlet...you bitchy bundle of feathers" I grumble aloud into the otherwise empty space, "perhaps I should hire a cook...let them take the apartment" I muse as I pull the door closed behind me.

Being a landlord on top of being a business owner, how quickly things have changed. I am being drawn further and further into the 'stone cage' as my friend likes to put it. He is right, that is exactly how it feels here, and yet I am here more and more, supposedly of my own free will.

I step outside and look up at the night sky, and am greeted by a crisp breeze and stars peeking through the torchlight that lines the streets. "I need to go home" I murmur to the winds, smelling the salt upon the air as I move towards the allure of it. It takes me no time at all before I am on the beach and feeling better for it, and my feet begin to automatically return me to the path I have walked countless times before, to the safety of my camp, and to the one person left in this world who still cares I exist.

All In A Days Work

I push to my feet, and for once, I am not covered in blood, but instead I wear a thin coating of dust. This place is filthy, unused items, wood, weapons, sheaths, bottles of booze and countless other forgotten things, once likely thought important, now sitting idle and unused. It becomes obvious to me, that he rarely stayed here, and that it was more just a place to keep his things, and not a place he called home.

The apartment would be nice, if it were not for the clutter, so I spend hours tidying and scrubbing and sorting through belongings that are not my own, until I can once more see the floor to sweep and then wash it clean. I have promised the space to my sister, to keep her safe, to let her rest, and I will not have her and the pups coming in here with it looking like this.

As I spend an hour on my knees, washing a faded spill from the otherwise good carpeting, I think about how it is that this place came to be mine. He has gone...he was determined to depart, and nothing I said made any difference. I can not say I understand his reasons, for it has been a long time since I understood anything at all about him. But when he asked me to take the place, and keep it going, take care of it...I could only accept. I would do nearly anything for him, I never once stopped caring. I am not sure he realizes that, but now, I fear it is too late to make him know it.

My knees ache by the time I am finished, such domestic chores not exactly within my usual skill set, but I manage to get the place in shape, and I nod with satisfaction at my efforts. She will be safe here while she sorts herself out, so will the children, and that means everything.

I have other tasks to get to today, and the list seems to grow every time I blink. The fields, as always require my attention, demons seem as thick as ever even though Darkfall has slipped away from us finally. Thankfully, I have a little help out there these days, and it frees me from time to time to take care of other pressing responsibilities. Now, I have to put my mind to learning an entirely new skill, something I have no interest in, but I promised I would do my best, and so...that is what I will do. I still need to track down that wayward Cloak..and ask if he still wishes me to teach combat training in the arena, and remember to feed that damned bird once in awhile. All this, I try to keep straight while I help a friend build a village.

Yes a village, a whole village, a settlement for his people, should there actually be any left. He lives and moves and drives himself upon that hope. I can not see how anyone will come, but if it makes him happy, then I will do what I can.

As I close the door, thinking about what furniture still needs to be put in place within, it occurs to me, that I still have ingredients to collect. The plague is not dead yet, and I for one plan to have a few things put away in case they are needed. I mentally add that to my ever growing 'to do' list, and walk though the kitchen and into the rowdy sounds of the tavern beyond.

"uhh...Miss..Mork..err..Miss..Rashka.." the barkeep calls, uncertain on exactly how to address me. "just Rashka is fine" I point out, allowing him a few moments of my thinly stretched time, "well..its just that we are low on rum and whisky..". I nod, and add it to the list, "I will get to it as soon as I can...I promise" I offer to him before slipping out the door before someone else tries to add to it.

It is just getting dark, but there is no sleep for me just yet. There is simply too much to do.

A Guardian's Gentle Nudge

"Rashka!!" the word floating over the fields carrying with it a tangible level of impatience.

I knew I was already in trouble, so I lingered a while, lying upon my back in the grass, watching the suns chase each other towards the horizon, the first, had already won the race and the second was just crossing the finish line. Dark violet hues rose into the sky from the other end of the small world bringing with it the cool night breezes and the heralds of cricket song.

"Rashka!!" the voice now has hit its limits straining in frustration from across the river.

I let out a soft sigh, and push myself up picking up the small wolf pup that had fallen asleep upon my chest. "we better go, she sounds cranky" I murmured in flawless human. I had been sneaking around with my little friend for the better part of a week now. He was hurt, poor thing, and hungry when I saw him shivering by the muddy bank, wet and miserable. Mother would simply lose her mind if she knew I had him, so I tucked him into my small backpack and began to make the trek through the darkening fields back to town.

I was only five or six summers old when I found that pup, but had the body of a human girl twice that age. It made me stand out, you could say, in the small town filled with Aartiran's, that and the fact my skin was azure blue. Yes, standing twice as tall as any my own age and blue as the sky to boot. This might have been why I spent endless days in the fields, driving my mother to an early sentence of grey hair.

I snuck him in and out of the small apartment at the back of the bakery that we called home, for almost two weeks, begging milk from the tavern owner to feed him. It was when he started to get stronger, and more curious and eating bits of ground meat, that we were discovered. He wandered out of my room and into the kitchen, and was found by my mother in the morning.

The screams were what woke me up, and the panicked yelps of Kinta. Kinta...mother said my father would call me that, when I was just an infant, it means 'little heart'. Bolting from my bed I burst into the kitchen to find my mother, chasing Kinta around the room with a broom, the pup in a frantic state of panic. "Kinta!" I cried out, my mother stopping her assault to glare at me, "oh Rashka...you didn't!" she groans, and with that the little pup flees towards me and the obvious sanctuary I provided. Plucking the mischievous furball off the floor, it was only then did I see the extent of the damage. The venison, the chicken, the pork...all pulled out of the coldroom, and chewed through and dragged about the floor.

"Rashka that is a weeks worth of meat pies wasted!" my mother scorned, "get that little beast OUT of my kitchen and see that he does not come back!". I was crestfallen, but I hurried my little friend out of the range of my mother's fury and took him towards the fields, walking with him clutched to me close, speaking in soft tones and earning a flurry of wolfish kisses.

I knew the grasslands well, even then, and understood it was time to set my little companion free again. I was aware that now that it had turned to morning, the wolves would be further north, so I stepped off the bridge and wandered the banks of the river until I turned west, and tried to pick up a sign of the pack.

It took a few hours, but eventually, I spotted them a short distance off, pausing to look at the little canine who had since fallen asleep in my arms. "I know I said I would always take care of you Kinta.." I murmured kissing the little pup upon its head, "trust me...this -is- taking care of you". With that, I boldly approached the wild pack, and held the little pup towards them as I gained their attention. "he belongs with you" I remember saying and then placed Kinta in the grass and turned around. I walked steadily away from the pack and the little pup, and only looked back once. Kinta was being thoroughly investigated by a pair of adult wolves, but he was watching me.

I still see him now and then, he is much bigger than he was back then. He is Alpha of the wild pack now, and none of the field wolves are a threat to me. Kinta was my first contact with Sykala I believe, my first deliberate nudge towards the life I lead. The Guardian's have always come to me when my need was great and lent their aide and comfort to still my mind and heart. I envy him, his link to his pack, his simple life, his place in the world. What I would not give to find the belonging he has, but that is not what the Storm Father has in mind for me it would seem.

Of Quests and Questions

I handed over another pile of oddly metallic items, small and so precious, these little promises of life renewed. The man who takes them, seems grateful and yet somehow burdened to have them in his possession and quickly tucks them away and bear them to who can turn them into rescue.

The lake is quiet. A rabbit on the edge of the water, a span or two ahead, I hear the movements of a crane just beyond sight in the monochromatic night, and for once I see stars in the night sky instead of the dreary worn mood that the Storm Father has cast upon us of late, in all his infinite misery. I see no demons, no threats in the wilds and I have swept the fields twice, just once again this afternoon with...

Yes....what of this new companion....friend? Yes...I would think he fits that word well. I know he wants more, he has big dreams, big ambitions, even if they are encompassed in his rather small world. But do mine fit into that of his? Do I even have such things? 'Be proud of yourself and your accomplishments' he said to me once, and I could not allow for such folly.

Why? I wonder...

What is it that makes it so hard to hear a compliment and accept it as truth? What is so difficult about being more than just a soldier? Certainly, complete and willing servitude is a very simple path to walk, however, it complicates matters when you are merely guessing at what it is you think your Master wants of you. I was given no direct instructions about what I was to do with my Gift. Wouldn't that be wonderful? To be able to just know what it is you are supposed to do for success in life. Yes, I suppose we all would want such challenges to be easy and expected, but that is not the way of things. And, what would we learn, after all, if we had it all just given to us?

So, this leaves me still, with the question, what do I want? I asked him, but I find myself strangely silent when I ask myself. There are plans being hatched. Do I wish to be apart of them? Martial Law can not last forever, life will slowly return to normal eventually. Where would I like to see myself standing when we gain the upper hand on chaos, at least for a little while? That I would think, is the real question.

Escapism, an Acquired Taste

I feel...odd.

I smiled, and actually laughed. I cracked a few jokes, even if I was the only one who thought it was funny. I felt good, sitting and talking without worrying, without feeling like death was simply waiting for me just beyond sight.

Of course, this odd feeling passed, and that familiar weight upon my chest, that one that makes it hard to breathe sometimes, returned and settled in once more. Back to the fields, kill more demons. I do not begrudge my place, I at least know where I belong, but it seems an endless and overwhelming goal, one that appears to be ever more beyond reach.

I still sweep the lake for sickly green fish that move like lightning through the water, and always leave me with a wound full of venom before the fight is through. The single small, crucial item I seek, fails to appear, time and time again. Still..I keep looking. The alternative is unthinkable for me, and for those still waiting for redemption.

Besides, if I do not push myself, I have to face them all and I simply do not know how right now. I can not face them, each one for a different reason, each one presenting a monumental problem that I do not know how to rectify. The reason I hunt the most dangerous creatures this world has to offer, and do so alone...is because...I am a coward. Few can follow me where I go, few would care to and so it frees me...in a manner of speaking. How do I deal with them? Kuzma, Trygon, Balkoth, Shay... I...can not and so I flee to the safety of blood and battle, to the serenity of demon slaughter and pain.

But for a brief moment, I smiled with friends....and it was good.

Random Acts of Kindness

I am surprised, to say the very least, but I suppose I should not be. I held to my faith, to my place in the world, to my purpose here, and was rewarded.

The cure came from the most unlikely of people. He just swaggered up to me whilst I was dying, while I was still searching for the items needed to make the cure, and handed it to me out of the blue without provocation. He said 'at least I was useful'. I could not argue with him there, and all he asked for in return, was part of the cure itself. I was happy to hand over what I had, and watched him depart with a bewildered curiosity. I had always thought the man hated me, at best, he had only a passing interest in insulting me before he wandered off to chase some frilled skirt worn by a giggling, useless female, and yet, he had saved my life. I do not think he knows just how bad off I was, or how grateful I am to him for that simple act of redemptive kindness.

Still, I am not one to question the Gods, or reject the gifts of Elbahn, and so, I am recovering. Slowly yes, it will take weeks to return to my former strength, but I feel stronger than I have since that horrible day by the fountain. Of course, I can not simply return home and lie down to rest as I should, no...there are so many who still need help. And so, I return to the fields, and search relentless for what is needed to bring the aide I was granted to those who still desperately need it regardless of my desire to simply sleep.

My mind...is still a scattered mess, my problems, still linger at the edges of my awareness, ignored for now while I distract myself with other more pressing things. I know I must face all those things that still eat at my heart like so many niggling, writhing maggots. But for now, I can focus on others, on the need that still presses harshly upon the population of the city. I am oddly grateful for that much as well.

Regrets and Resolutions

It has been days, has it been days? Yes...I believe so, days since I collapsed upon the road into friendly arms, and my recovery has been painfully slow. My body refuses to heal as it should, the plague in my system blending with poisons past, and it keeps me from taking full advantage of what rest usually provides me. Still, considering every inch of me has been touched by my recent experience, I am doing better than I should be, though...my mind is still a jumble of images, faces and unmatched names.

My rescuer, is both patient and desperately impatient with me. I can see how he fights with himself in exactly what it is that exists or perhaps more accurately, what does not exist between us. He struggles with his traditions, as I do mine, the unseen barriers and unmet requirements that blockade us from each other, all the while I am trying to unravel just what is that happened to me, and put right the disjointed and fractured memories. I wish we had more time to sort things out between us, but time is something that is drifting away from me like so much smoke on the breeze.

I am dying. I have come to terms with this, and yet, for some reason, I am not as desperate as one might think to prevent this seemingly inevitable end. If this is what the Storm Father has planned for me, who am I to fight it? If I am not His soldier, I am nothing. The vials that I gather for the purpose of keeping myself functioning, and helping to ease the suffering of those around me, are working less and less effectively, for not just me it seems. The longer the illness has to ravage your body, the more damage it does in shorter time. Soon, the vials will do nothing at all, and my lungs will fill and I will drown where I lay as the fever cooks the last of my mind.

But in spite of it all, I will not go peacefully. No, that is simply not my way. I will die on my feet, cutting down demon after demon, until one finally gets the better of me. To the last, I will do what I do, and be what I am, and be damned because of it if I must, but I refuse to die to Her whim on the flat of my back.

Pain, Panic and Pleasantries

I do not remember things as they are, or perhaps more accurately, as they occurred.

No, it is a jumble of distorted images, blinding pain, confusion, and unmeasured panic. That much, I do remember. The panic over the pain as I stumbled sightless through the black. How did I end up in here? I really can not recall. It only mildly dawns on me, that I have stumbled past a pile of pillows. Pillows? Really? I know that should mean something, but it simply can not for now. I must GET OUT! A corridor of doors...pain, aching, agonizing, mind flaying pain, and...a bedchamber? and then..another? I do not understand.

Get out...I must get out. Where am I? Storm Father...help me. Back past the luxury, the fabric, the musty smell of dank stone beneath...back...out...there is no way out down here, I must go back. Sightless again, wandering, Gods above please...show me the way! And then....I fall.

I am so weak, so utterly close to my last breath I can feel Morhaig's chill hand over my heart. I see the Oasis, that familiar warmth...it would be so easy to just drift into that calm place again. And so I lie there, in the rain, surrounded by...sodden, grey soot and burned out boards. Where am I now? I can not even put that much together as I sway back and forth between the worlds.

It dawns on me eventually, that I feel as bad as I should under these circumstances, and that I have something to help that close at hand. It takes me a good long time to struggle free of the backpack upon my shoulder to claim the tiny vial of relief from within and tip it to my lips. Ahhh, that rush of health, it only brings me to barely functional, but a damned sight closer to survival than just a few moments ago. I will take it.

It is only then that I can look around and realize, somehow, I am in the slums, behind the barricades, and the burned out shell of a once bustling neighbourhood, is utterly deserted. I try, I really do, but I simply can not make heads nor tails of the fact I am here. I can barely find my own feet let alone figure out how I got here. My feet...yes, that's it. One foot before the other, moving, that's a start! It seems like hours I wander, looking for a way out. It probably is, but I can not be sure, my head does not seem to be able to lock onto anything for long before it drifts away from my attention again, and only what is right before my nose registers.

A barrier, of hastily constructed logs bars my way. It is the same with every street. Where am I again? Oh...right...home is on the other side. So..find a way over. There is a wall, half collapsed, but, the debris is piled just so, that if I apply what little strength I have, I could scramble over. Still, it takes me entirely too long to figure out just how to do such a simple task, and when I finally manage it, I still fall to the cobblestones, flat on my back. No one sees.

I remember...arguing, so...angry. A blur of tirrish lies and skrel'eth barbarian logic being spewed at me, all blending into a poisonous soup of disjointed betrayal. The fields! The road! I am where I should be! That brings such a flood of relief to me it is impossible to describe. I stagger down the road, just so happy to have it beneath my boots again, that I barely even notice when a familiar form appears before me. I am certain he must have caught me when I collapsed, but to be honest, I can not say for sure.

Of Floss and Flowers

It's raining. But then, it always is. A swift blue hole in a grey ceiling teases to the warm Twins beyond our reach, beyond our hopes, down here in the sodden fields. The afternoon is late and I am soaked through, and though I would never admit it, I am cold. It is harder to keep my energy up, resting does nothing to ease the ache of my body, the fuzzy edges to my vision, the haze that filters every thought in my head.

I am hunting alone, but I do prefer it that way. I can be what I am meant to be, what I am designed for, the only thing I am really good at. A demon killer. I hunt them, chase them, run them down and turn them all into lifeless lumps, mounds of poison, black blood and rotting flesh. The hordes, they come and come and come, and I break my body and my own spirit holding them back from the small bastion of survival left behind the walls.

The misery huddled behind those walls is tangible and contagious, just like the illness that has ripped through the masses that call the city home. Young and old, healthy and infirm, devoted and wicked alike, seem to suffer, save the few that call to Her for relief. Oh how I despise them. The weak and cowardly that turn to Darkness to save their own worthless skins, while the Faithful hold out on hope that the endless efforts to find a way, and heartfelt prayers to the Six will pay off in time.

My prayers rise only to the Storm Father, as has always been my way, but I ache for all the Six and the losses they are sustaining these days. It is my belief, that the Gods..each requires love and adoration to maintain strength and power and work their influence in the world. It has been the ploy of the Others, all along to divert that love, redirect the adoration, to themselves. And to my shame and dismay, I see their plans working, the plot successful and more and more fall victim to the easy way out.

I for one, will not be making an appointment. I can see it now, just the tone of the sign, it screams to me, "The Price for the Cure..is highly personalized". I have to have faith in the visions, faith in my purpose, faith in the skills of whom I have delivered all hope for survival....for everyone. That is a lot to lay upon the shoulders of one person, but we all have our burdens to bear.

I pat the heavy backpack in my hand, and pull out two small grey vials, one marked with a white lily, the other a small slip of green floss, tied in a dainty little bow. I weigh the pros and cons of both, the Lily enough to boost me for now, saving the green thread for when the chips are really down, so to speak. But oh to feel that strength that flowing, wondrous strength that is delivered with the green. I sit there, staring at the two a moment, then put away that little grey vial with the moss colored thread, saving it for...a rainy day.