Hello all, it is I, Gaeldrisan, creating yet another superb sci-fi/fantasy
story, all of my own! Yep, I own them all. What? What do you mean they
aren't mine? Are you sure? *clutches at Raistlin protectively* Not even
this weak, sick one? Aww, darn. Okay, fine, I don't own the DL characters.
*whimpers as an Evil Lawyer snatches Raistlin away from her*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a very cliched way, thunder crashed and rumbled over the Tower of Sorcery in Palanthas that night. The citizens of the town stayed in for the most part, save for the few brave fools who stumbled to and from various taverns and inns. Rain poured down in torrents from the sky, as if someone had gutted a cloud. It was a warm, sticky rain, which made the night all the more unpleasant for everyone.
Even the forbidding Tower itself, usually so dark and cold and drafty, was over warm that night. In his quarters, tangled in the heavy blankets, Raistlin Majere tossed and turned. Even this young, frail man, who so often complained of cold and discomfort, was too warm in the tropical storm. But his discontent flailing was not to be accounted entirely to the oppressive heat. Raistlin dreamed this night, as he often did, but tonight things were not going well for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~((Dream Sequence Begins))~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Always, the thief was just out of sight, just around the corner, and always flaunting the Staff of Magius that they had stolen. Never could Raist get close enough to get a glimpse of them, nor could he pause long enough to cast a spell that would render her a small pile of ash, leaving his beloved treasure unscathed. Forest, black and full of life, crowded in on him on either side. He could feel things watching him, things that would steal his life, his soul, and his magic, not necessarily in that order.
Suddenly the thief stooped to duck into a tunnel of brambles and thistles. Raistlin grunted in disgust; could no one crawl through a pile of pillows and children's blankets? He sighed, tucked the strands of sweaty white hair behind his ears, and crawled in after his treasure. Thorns cut at his hands, tore at his dirty black robes, but he ignored them all. They were so trivial, when one thought about it, and he just kept on.
Finally, and quite unexpectedly, the tunnel came to an end, and he was suddenly on his hands and knees before the thief who had dared to lay hands on this, his most prized of belongings. Angrily he struggled to his feet, ignoring the giggle from the thief. It was probably one of those damned kender; he couldn't even remember how many times he'd had to slap Tas's hand away from his staff.
He stood up, not bothering to brush the thorns and dirt from his knees, and looked into the face of his tormentor.
She was barely five feet tall, coming about to Raistlin's shoulder, with black hair streaked with white. She wore the Red Robes, and it suddenly occurred to Raist who stood before him.
Curtly he nodded his head to her, barely hiding the fury on his face.
"Lunitari...if I may inquire as to why you've stolen that which is mine?" He looked down at her an raised an eyebrow in question.
She nodded and held the staff before her, enticingly close to his golden hands; but she was not offering it back to him. Rather, she merely leaned slightly upon it and regarded him with a curious stare.
"Long has it been since you studied under my wax and wane, Raistlin Majere," she bagan. "I do not regret the decision you made to turn to my dark cousin, Nuitari. I called you this night to ask you to do us all a favor." Here she paused, and Raistlin felt very uncomfortable under her fierce scrutiny.
"You do recall, long ago, when you called upon our assistance to guide you in magic?" she questioned.
Raistlin bit his lip and nodded. So well, he remembered that day, when the lambskin curled up under the words I, Magus, when he pleaded with the cousins for magic, when they granted his request.
"We know that you promised to never deny your faith in us, and we know that you have never once broken that promise. We do call upon you for a small...favor, though." Again she leaned slightly on the staff.
Raistlin said nothing, only glared at the staff in someone else's grasp. He nodded curtly.
"What would you have me do?"
Lunitari smiled and closed her eyes. "There is an entity who is being pursued by the forces of good and evil alike. This being, though, could be a threat or a great boon to either side. We wich for you to take her under your wing, so to speak, and teach her the magics you know. She will be similarly schooled under each of the Heads of the Order."
Raistlin shook his head. "I am not the Head of the Black Robes. I have no wish to lead something so trivial. They do not trust me, I'm sure you know this."
Lunitari smiled again and opened her eyes, and Raistlin found that he could not look away. "We are quite aware this is so, Majere, but you have things of your own to teach the child. You must take her into your tutelage." The Black Robe eyed the staff longingly, ached to snatch it back from the goddess. But he could not. He nodded stiffly. "I will do this. But give me back the staff."
Lunitari shrugged, and handed it back to him.
"It was only a dream, Majere..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~((Dream Sequence Ends))~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Raistlin shot up in bed, gasping and grasping around for the staff of Magius in the dark. He found it where it always way, at the side of his bed, leaning against the headboard. He clutched it protectively to his chest, even as he felt a cough rack his frail frame. This was the worst he had had in many days; it dried out his nose and flooded his mouth with phlegm and blood, while pounding ferociously on his head. Weakly he noticed Dalamar appear at the door with a flask of the soothing tea.
Raistlin beckoned weakly for the young elf to enter, and took the flask from him. In one or two gulps, the pain had subsided, and in three more, the taste of his own lungs was washed from his mouth. He fell back against the pillows, exhausted.
Dalamar, kneeling on the floor beside his Shalafi's bed, rose to go. Raistlin's arm snaked out and grabbed at his wrist.
"When you rise tomorrow, prepare a room suitable for a child. We seem to be taking in a new student, boy." Then Majere's arm dropped, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, still clutching the staff in his other hand.
Dalamar waited a moment to see if his Shalafi needed anything else, and then left the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind him.
A new student? A child? Dalamar shook his head. He had known his Shalafi to be eccentric, but to start accepting students in the middle of the night was a bit stranger than usual. Dalamar smirked and then winced as the fabric of his sleeping robes brushed against the wounds on his chest. this student might be luckier than he had been...then again, his Shalafi had no great love for children; the new student might not be as lucky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deep in the Abyss, in the empty room that was her throne room, Takhisis smiled and traced her long fingernails over a polished orb of sodalite, relishing the residual warmth from the spell she had just completed. When the mage was finished training the child, Krynn would perish beneath her talons. So many had held promises to the Dark Queen, and just as many had perished before fulfilling their promises to her. Well, not again. Never again.
She changed her form to one in likeness of the goddess of neutral magic, and imagined the look on Majere's visage when she finally crushed him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
yay! Not entirely sure what the plot for this is, but be sure it has deceit, and lying, and trickery, and, for you intellectual types, it's gonna have riddles up the yin yang! Whoohoo!! Please review! I luv you all!
*whimpers as an Evil Lawyer snatches Raistlin away from her*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a very cliched way, thunder crashed and rumbled over the Tower of Sorcery in Palanthas that night. The citizens of the town stayed in for the most part, save for the few brave fools who stumbled to and from various taverns and inns. Rain poured down in torrents from the sky, as if someone had gutted a cloud. It was a warm, sticky rain, which made the night all the more unpleasant for everyone.
Even the forbidding Tower itself, usually so dark and cold and drafty, was over warm that night. In his quarters, tangled in the heavy blankets, Raistlin Majere tossed and turned. Even this young, frail man, who so often complained of cold and discomfort, was too warm in the tropical storm. But his discontent flailing was not to be accounted entirely to the oppressive heat. Raistlin dreamed this night, as he often did, but tonight things were not going well for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~((Dream Sequence Begins))~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Always, the thief was just out of sight, just around the corner, and always flaunting the Staff of Magius that they had stolen. Never could Raist get close enough to get a glimpse of them, nor could he pause long enough to cast a spell that would render her a small pile of ash, leaving his beloved treasure unscathed. Forest, black and full of life, crowded in on him on either side. He could feel things watching him, things that would steal his life, his soul, and his magic, not necessarily in that order.
Suddenly the thief stooped to duck into a tunnel of brambles and thistles. Raistlin grunted in disgust; could no one crawl through a pile of pillows and children's blankets? He sighed, tucked the strands of sweaty white hair behind his ears, and crawled in after his treasure. Thorns cut at his hands, tore at his dirty black robes, but he ignored them all. They were so trivial, when one thought about it, and he just kept on.
Finally, and quite unexpectedly, the tunnel came to an end, and he was suddenly on his hands and knees before the thief who had dared to lay hands on this, his most prized of belongings. Angrily he struggled to his feet, ignoring the giggle from the thief. It was probably one of those damned kender; he couldn't even remember how many times he'd had to slap Tas's hand away from his staff.
He stood up, not bothering to brush the thorns and dirt from his knees, and looked into the face of his tormentor.
She was barely five feet tall, coming about to Raistlin's shoulder, with black hair streaked with white. She wore the Red Robes, and it suddenly occurred to Raist who stood before him.
Curtly he nodded his head to her, barely hiding the fury on his face.
"Lunitari...if I may inquire as to why you've stolen that which is mine?" He looked down at her an raised an eyebrow in question.
She nodded and held the staff before her, enticingly close to his golden hands; but she was not offering it back to him. Rather, she merely leaned slightly upon it and regarded him with a curious stare.
"Long has it been since you studied under my wax and wane, Raistlin Majere," she bagan. "I do not regret the decision you made to turn to my dark cousin, Nuitari. I called you this night to ask you to do us all a favor." Here she paused, and Raistlin felt very uncomfortable under her fierce scrutiny.
"You do recall, long ago, when you called upon our assistance to guide you in magic?" she questioned.
Raistlin bit his lip and nodded. So well, he remembered that day, when the lambskin curled up under the words I, Magus, when he pleaded with the cousins for magic, when they granted his request.
"We know that you promised to never deny your faith in us, and we know that you have never once broken that promise. We do call upon you for a small...favor, though." Again she leaned slightly on the staff.
Raistlin said nothing, only glared at the staff in someone else's grasp. He nodded curtly.
"What would you have me do?"
Lunitari smiled and closed her eyes. "There is an entity who is being pursued by the forces of good and evil alike. This being, though, could be a threat or a great boon to either side. We wich for you to take her under your wing, so to speak, and teach her the magics you know. She will be similarly schooled under each of the Heads of the Order."
Raistlin shook his head. "I am not the Head of the Black Robes. I have no wish to lead something so trivial. They do not trust me, I'm sure you know this."
Lunitari smiled again and opened her eyes, and Raistlin found that he could not look away. "We are quite aware this is so, Majere, but you have things of your own to teach the child. You must take her into your tutelage." The Black Robe eyed the staff longingly, ached to snatch it back from the goddess. But he could not. He nodded stiffly. "I will do this. But give me back the staff."
Lunitari shrugged, and handed it back to him.
"It was only a dream, Majere..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~((Dream Sequence Ends))~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Raistlin shot up in bed, gasping and grasping around for the staff of Magius in the dark. He found it where it always way, at the side of his bed, leaning against the headboard. He clutched it protectively to his chest, even as he felt a cough rack his frail frame. This was the worst he had had in many days; it dried out his nose and flooded his mouth with phlegm and blood, while pounding ferociously on his head. Weakly he noticed Dalamar appear at the door with a flask of the soothing tea.
Raistlin beckoned weakly for the young elf to enter, and took the flask from him. In one or two gulps, the pain had subsided, and in three more, the taste of his own lungs was washed from his mouth. He fell back against the pillows, exhausted.
Dalamar, kneeling on the floor beside his Shalafi's bed, rose to go. Raistlin's arm snaked out and grabbed at his wrist.
"When you rise tomorrow, prepare a room suitable for a child. We seem to be taking in a new student, boy." Then Majere's arm dropped, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, still clutching the staff in his other hand.
Dalamar waited a moment to see if his Shalafi needed anything else, and then left the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind him.
A new student? A child? Dalamar shook his head. He had known his Shalafi to be eccentric, but to start accepting students in the middle of the night was a bit stranger than usual. Dalamar smirked and then winced as the fabric of his sleeping robes brushed against the wounds on his chest. this student might be luckier than he had been...then again, his Shalafi had no great love for children; the new student might not be as lucky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deep in the Abyss, in the empty room that was her throne room, Takhisis smiled and traced her long fingernails over a polished orb of sodalite, relishing the residual warmth from the spell she had just completed. When the mage was finished training the child, Krynn would perish beneath her talons. So many had held promises to the Dark Queen, and just as many had perished before fulfilling their promises to her. Well, not again. Never again.
She changed her form to one in likeness of the goddess of neutral magic, and imagined the look on Majere's visage when she finally crushed him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
yay! Not entirely sure what the plot for this is, but be sure it has deceit, and lying, and trickery, and, for you intellectual types, it's gonna have riddles up the yin yang! Whoohoo!! Please review! I luv you all!