In suspense? Great! Of course, I would'nt kill of my main character so
soon, or would I. . .? It's in the reading today, so don't stop reading,
and keep the reveiws coming! Also, I have received some bad news;
apparently, I messed up uploading the chapter 3, and it's only a partial.
It'll be fixed as soon as possible, it contains considerably more action
scenes!
-J. Diabolico-
The mere fact that time stood still was irrelevant. Time mattered not without one's body, or physical form. Onward speed the soul of the Sorcerer, images swimming past and memories long forgotten revived from some distant, dusty plain of the mind.
Too loudly rang the sounds of pain; for pain in the subconcious plane is represented in dull, unpleasant noises; the reoccurance of past events;
"Damathodor, brave knight, step you back from the fray; for my magic will finish this or destroy me. . ." Screams. Explosions. Darkness.
"Oh no. . ."
The silence suddenly collapsed, and the rushing noise of the real world flooded back to the Necromancer. Bright, painful light shocked his eyes and battered his sore brain; he gasped as he blinked away the pain,
Pain had returned to his physical form. . .He lived. . .
"Where in the name of the order am I." He asked, to no one in particular, seeing nothing but a dimming and darkening room in the shade of his returning vision. He was suprised to hear a reply, from some still-bright area off to his right. . .
"You are back in Bridgetown, good sir."
"Damathodor? Young knight?"
"No; I am Marie, the sister of this brave soul which you have named." Durag blinked in confusion. Recent memory had not yet graced his mind.
"The girl from the feild. . ." he said, though not really recalling anything solid; only a simple fact.
"Yes! Yes! You saved us!" the girl cried, happily clapping her hands together. He saw her now, brown hair falling down to shoulder legnth, dark brown eyes twinkling in the flickering candlelight. "You gave me this, do you remember?" she inquired, holding the strange enchanted peice of metal into the gleam of the light. He reached for it, frowning, his hand wrapping loosely around it's cold metallic shape.
"It is the amulet of enduring stregnth." He said, memories flooding back and reorganizing themselves rapidly in his groggy head. "You keep it." He told her, pushing it away. "I am confident enough in my other abilities now. . ."
He sat up, with her assistance, and coughed violently, cursing, he tried his legs. In a few short minutes he was quite awake and standing in the dark room with a single candle. It was not his room, but it was obviously at the hotel.
Seeing his frown, the girl, Marie, explained;
"Your room was locked, hard as we tried to open it; not even the innkeeper's key would force it to yeild." She said, smiling at Durag's strange look. "This is my room."
Indeed he looked about and saw the various artifacts and equipment women were so very dependent upon; brushes, a mirror, two loose leather bags of what could only be some sort of fragrant perfume, and several other female ornaments and gadgets. His armor lay in a corner, his real armor, solid steal and jet black, but his bone helm and wrist band lay crumbling there, as well. He waved his hand groggily and they both disintegrated into nothingness. The girl stared wide eyed. She had never seen magic before.
"How did you. . .?" came the question, but he looked up at her impatiently with a look that said, it would take too long to explain. And she let it go, her pretty eyes dropping to the floor. She looked up, then, a bright smile on her face. "You must be famished!"
In the kitchen, Damathodor sat playing a card and dice game with two or three other men, and Bometh haunted the corner, just out of the circle of light and looked away quickly as the Necromancer met his ashamed gaze. He had fainted. . .
"Durag! You are well!" cried Damathodor happily, seeing his smiling sister clutching the wobbly Sorcerer on the last stair. Her arms wrapped still within his when they reached the bottom, and he looked up at her with a slight frown as she lingered a moment and stepped away, smiling mischeviously. Her hands trailed away from his arm as she walked off, looking over her shoulder at him, and he could not help but submit as his eyes were sucked uncontrollably downwards as she walked away. Very nice. . .
"Durag." Spoke the knight, his voice steely and serious. He had, no doubt, witnessed the scene. "Durag, we have a lot to catch up on, you were out for three days!" he said, his tone changing to one of lighter melody. His sister had gone to the bar and was eyeing the Sorcerer with unabashed interest. But Durag dared not turn an inch. "You are no doubt very hungry; Barkeep, some food for our hero!" he shouted, and Durag, pretending to gaze over at the beaming bartender, took a quick look at Marie. She had not turned away, and smiled beautifully as his eyes met hers. In his line of work, it was rare a woman even looked upon you with anything but profound disgust or utter terror. . .
"What has passed in my. . .abscence?" he asked, turning around again to face the table. Damathodor looked upon him with warning. He had not been convinced of the purpose of Durag's backward glance.
"Much." He said, his voice menacing. The Necromancer pretended not to notice, and stared at the knight with a look of innocence and confusion.
"Like. . .?" he tried. The Paladin's face shifted, and he sighed wearily.
"The evil armies of the far west have emerged en masse from the woods of Dulathia. Many tales of ill omen have reached us here in Bridgetown. Horrible mostrosities creep across the land, and all are full of dread for the darkness falling around us." He spoke sadly, and softly, but the bar had gone silent, and most heard. A few shifted uneasily and the smile upon Marie's lips dropped and her face took on a solemn look. "Much evil has befallen the land in a short time. Many refugees trek to this town every day; it is apparent that some grave evil has befallen the mighty town of York; and one strange traveller speaks of a powerful sorceress there, who commands the army of the dead with wrath and fury."
The Necromancer sat silent; could that have been the force he had sensed? Some other powerful Magician calling up her own ranks of dead warriors. . .
"Is this army far from here?" he asked finally, looking up from thought.
"Yes, they are concentrated for now, around York. They will soon march, I fear."
"There was a strange traveller who gave you this news? Is he here?"
"Not at the Inn, but he stays the night here, in the town. We will find him after you have eaten." The Paladin replied. Durag sat back to think and soon the food came, carried by Marie, who set it down gingerly before the sorcerer. He looked up at her and she beamed down upon him; he began to smile slowly as he had not done for a long time, but Damathodor's grunt of annoyance brought his eyes down to his plate. Marie stalked away angrily after giving her brother a venemous stare, and sat at the bar to entertain herself with the other women there. The Necromancer ate greedily; suddenly realizing his enormous appetite, but soon the Knight's silence brought his gaze upwards. They met eachother's eyes, and the Paladin nodded over Durag's shoulder towards Marie. Durag needed not look to see she was there.
"Be carefull, my freind; she is. . .well loved by many. . ." the Paladin said, still looking at his sister, sadly. Durag frowned as he watched the knight's melancholy features and asked;
"Why do you tell me this?" Damathodor looked down at his companion sharply.
"You know very well why I do this." He said sternly. "She looks upon you as she has not at any man for a long time; she would not leave your side during the past days, neither did she relent in her fast, so determined was she to devote every moment to your health. She barely knew you, yet she sees to you with care and compassion."
"She is, a beautiful woman." Said the Necromancer cautiously, "I would not have any harm come her way, though I know her not well, she is in my thoughts as this darkness falls. I will have no danger befall her."
The Knight looked long into his ally's face, and finally looked down as Durag did not turn away nor falter. He nodded slowly and relented.
"I feel she is is safe with us to protect her. Either of us." He said. Then looked up threateningly; "But if you. . ." he began, but the Sorcerer's hand stopped him; he waved dissmissingly.
"I would not think to do so foolish a thing as harm the only beautiful creature who has of yet shown he such devotion. Her attitude astonishes me, and I will hold to her safety as I would if my own life were upon it." He told the Paladin softly. Reassured, Damathodor smiled happily and called for more drinks.
"Tonight we will sleep soundly, and visit our strange traveller in the morn." The knight said. Bometh had ventured towards the table and sat with the two. They began to discuss the situation at hand, and made plans to venture forth in the morning to test the might of the enclosing army.
One thing was clear, given the information they hoped to obtain from the stranger in town, they would have to make thier way into the heart of the darkness; into York itself, from which so many fled in these dreadful days.
-J. Diabolico-
The mere fact that time stood still was irrelevant. Time mattered not without one's body, or physical form. Onward speed the soul of the Sorcerer, images swimming past and memories long forgotten revived from some distant, dusty plain of the mind.
Too loudly rang the sounds of pain; for pain in the subconcious plane is represented in dull, unpleasant noises; the reoccurance of past events;
"Damathodor, brave knight, step you back from the fray; for my magic will finish this or destroy me. . ." Screams. Explosions. Darkness.
"Oh no. . ."
The silence suddenly collapsed, and the rushing noise of the real world flooded back to the Necromancer. Bright, painful light shocked his eyes and battered his sore brain; he gasped as he blinked away the pain,
Pain had returned to his physical form. . .He lived. . .
"Where in the name of the order am I." He asked, to no one in particular, seeing nothing but a dimming and darkening room in the shade of his returning vision. He was suprised to hear a reply, from some still-bright area off to his right. . .
"You are back in Bridgetown, good sir."
"Damathodor? Young knight?"
"No; I am Marie, the sister of this brave soul which you have named." Durag blinked in confusion. Recent memory had not yet graced his mind.
"The girl from the feild. . ." he said, though not really recalling anything solid; only a simple fact.
"Yes! Yes! You saved us!" the girl cried, happily clapping her hands together. He saw her now, brown hair falling down to shoulder legnth, dark brown eyes twinkling in the flickering candlelight. "You gave me this, do you remember?" she inquired, holding the strange enchanted peice of metal into the gleam of the light. He reached for it, frowning, his hand wrapping loosely around it's cold metallic shape.
"It is the amulet of enduring stregnth." He said, memories flooding back and reorganizing themselves rapidly in his groggy head. "You keep it." He told her, pushing it away. "I am confident enough in my other abilities now. . ."
He sat up, with her assistance, and coughed violently, cursing, he tried his legs. In a few short minutes he was quite awake and standing in the dark room with a single candle. It was not his room, but it was obviously at the hotel.
Seeing his frown, the girl, Marie, explained;
"Your room was locked, hard as we tried to open it; not even the innkeeper's key would force it to yeild." She said, smiling at Durag's strange look. "This is my room."
Indeed he looked about and saw the various artifacts and equipment women were so very dependent upon; brushes, a mirror, two loose leather bags of what could only be some sort of fragrant perfume, and several other female ornaments and gadgets. His armor lay in a corner, his real armor, solid steal and jet black, but his bone helm and wrist band lay crumbling there, as well. He waved his hand groggily and they both disintegrated into nothingness. The girl stared wide eyed. She had never seen magic before.
"How did you. . .?" came the question, but he looked up at her impatiently with a look that said, it would take too long to explain. And she let it go, her pretty eyes dropping to the floor. She looked up, then, a bright smile on her face. "You must be famished!"
In the kitchen, Damathodor sat playing a card and dice game with two or three other men, and Bometh haunted the corner, just out of the circle of light and looked away quickly as the Necromancer met his ashamed gaze. He had fainted. . .
"Durag! You are well!" cried Damathodor happily, seeing his smiling sister clutching the wobbly Sorcerer on the last stair. Her arms wrapped still within his when they reached the bottom, and he looked up at her with a slight frown as she lingered a moment and stepped away, smiling mischeviously. Her hands trailed away from his arm as she walked off, looking over her shoulder at him, and he could not help but submit as his eyes were sucked uncontrollably downwards as she walked away. Very nice. . .
"Durag." Spoke the knight, his voice steely and serious. He had, no doubt, witnessed the scene. "Durag, we have a lot to catch up on, you were out for three days!" he said, his tone changing to one of lighter melody. His sister had gone to the bar and was eyeing the Sorcerer with unabashed interest. But Durag dared not turn an inch. "You are no doubt very hungry; Barkeep, some food for our hero!" he shouted, and Durag, pretending to gaze over at the beaming bartender, took a quick look at Marie. She had not turned away, and smiled beautifully as his eyes met hers. In his line of work, it was rare a woman even looked upon you with anything but profound disgust or utter terror. . .
"What has passed in my. . .abscence?" he asked, turning around again to face the table. Damathodor looked upon him with warning. He had not been convinced of the purpose of Durag's backward glance.
"Much." He said, his voice menacing. The Necromancer pretended not to notice, and stared at the knight with a look of innocence and confusion.
"Like. . .?" he tried. The Paladin's face shifted, and he sighed wearily.
"The evil armies of the far west have emerged en masse from the woods of Dulathia. Many tales of ill omen have reached us here in Bridgetown. Horrible mostrosities creep across the land, and all are full of dread for the darkness falling around us." He spoke sadly, and softly, but the bar had gone silent, and most heard. A few shifted uneasily and the smile upon Marie's lips dropped and her face took on a solemn look. "Much evil has befallen the land in a short time. Many refugees trek to this town every day; it is apparent that some grave evil has befallen the mighty town of York; and one strange traveller speaks of a powerful sorceress there, who commands the army of the dead with wrath and fury."
The Necromancer sat silent; could that have been the force he had sensed? Some other powerful Magician calling up her own ranks of dead warriors. . .
"Is this army far from here?" he asked finally, looking up from thought.
"Yes, they are concentrated for now, around York. They will soon march, I fear."
"There was a strange traveller who gave you this news? Is he here?"
"Not at the Inn, but he stays the night here, in the town. We will find him after you have eaten." The Paladin replied. Durag sat back to think and soon the food came, carried by Marie, who set it down gingerly before the sorcerer. He looked up at her and she beamed down upon him; he began to smile slowly as he had not done for a long time, but Damathodor's grunt of annoyance brought his eyes down to his plate. Marie stalked away angrily after giving her brother a venemous stare, and sat at the bar to entertain herself with the other women there. The Necromancer ate greedily; suddenly realizing his enormous appetite, but soon the Knight's silence brought his gaze upwards. They met eachother's eyes, and the Paladin nodded over Durag's shoulder towards Marie. Durag needed not look to see she was there.
"Be carefull, my freind; she is. . .well loved by many. . ." the Paladin said, still looking at his sister, sadly. Durag frowned as he watched the knight's melancholy features and asked;
"Why do you tell me this?" Damathodor looked down at his companion sharply.
"You know very well why I do this." He said sternly. "She looks upon you as she has not at any man for a long time; she would not leave your side during the past days, neither did she relent in her fast, so determined was she to devote every moment to your health. She barely knew you, yet she sees to you with care and compassion."
"She is, a beautiful woman." Said the Necromancer cautiously, "I would not have any harm come her way, though I know her not well, she is in my thoughts as this darkness falls. I will have no danger befall her."
The Knight looked long into his ally's face, and finally looked down as Durag did not turn away nor falter. He nodded slowly and relented.
"I feel she is is safe with us to protect her. Either of us." He said. Then looked up threateningly; "But if you. . ." he began, but the Sorcerer's hand stopped him; he waved dissmissingly.
"I would not think to do so foolish a thing as harm the only beautiful creature who has of yet shown he such devotion. Her attitude astonishes me, and I will hold to her safety as I would if my own life were upon it." He told the Paladin softly. Reassured, Damathodor smiled happily and called for more drinks.
"Tonight we will sleep soundly, and visit our strange traveller in the morn." The knight said. Bometh had ventured towards the table and sat with the two. They began to discuss the situation at hand, and made plans to venture forth in the morning to test the might of the enclosing army.
One thing was clear, given the information they hoped to obtain from the stranger in town, they would have to make thier way into the heart of the darkness; into York itself, from which so many fled in these dreadful days.