Wake (Breathe III) (Underconstruction, over 400 pages lost)

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

The statue is unmoving, in the way that all statues are unmoving, made of granite or marble to decorate a lawn or garden. But something about the detail level of this statue is supernatural...the moustache so lifelike it seems too finely carved to be stone, the eyes so rendered that you would expect it to blink. Yet stone it is, cold heartless stone, a shadow thrown across the floor as Luclin waxes fat and pregnant behind it, bathing it in pale blue moonlight, revealing stone grey hair unstead of the deep black of the statue's model. Silence except the sound of wind whistling by is the only noice. Until that silence is disturbed. With a deafening sound, the statue shatters, pieces of the enchanted stone that is its medium exploding outward with one tremendous CRACK. And in its place, a humanoid shaped light wavers, and then shrinks to the size of a pinpoint. In its place, eclipsing it in its own darkness, is another manlike shape, the black power of it palpable, filling in the space where the stone likeness once occupied. Slowly the darkness coalesces, taking on the likeness of the statue, but now rich in the hues of the living and real, and the mouth opens and inhales, taking a deep breath. Eyes open, but they are not the deep black pools of the original owner. Rather, they are lit with the fire of the mad, malevolent, violent. The new being seems to hold onto the form of the original shape, then spastically shifts forms dozens of times, becoming dwarf, hafling, giant, kerran, a myriad of different shapes and looks. Then it settles back on the long haired, moustacioed, human form of the statue, and opens its mouth to speak. "Free..." it growls. And with a move of its newly formed hand, catches the wisp of a light that had been seen upon the destruction of the stone, to capture it like an insect in its powerful grasp. And from the wisp, one word, weak, anguished, with the voice of the statue's model. "Avenge...." And behind the living statue, Luclin's light slowly turns from blue to hazy red, as the face of the moon fills with blood. * * * Camille bolted straight up in bed choking back a cry. The bed far too large for one woman to sleep in alone, but one she had never had the heart to replace, even as she neared the one year marking of her husband's death. His sword Reaver hanging on the wall glinted Luclin's moonlight in the dark, grounding her in reality, while the remenants of the nightmare, the first she had suffered since his passing, danced at the edge of her memory. A tear rolled down her cheek as she looked upon that blade, and then to the empty spot in their bed. And slowly she fought for control of her beating heart, which had almost stopped when the thing in the dream had spoke. Just a dream, she told herself, tossing to the side. But dream or not, though it did not return, Camille Wyldechylde found no more sleep that night. <img src="http://www.lby3.com/eq/leopa/misc/riverdane_animatedbanner.gif" style="border:0;"/>Edited by: <A HREF=http://pub78.ezboard.com/bwalkersofvazaelle.showUserPublicProfile?gid=riverdane>Riverdane</A> at: 6/28/03 6:49 
_________________

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"I thought you might need some more meat since it was so long ago since my last time through here and me being in the neighborhood and all so I shot a few rabbits powpowpowpow even though I know you like bunnies so you might be mad but I figured you'd forgive me so I..." Talvarien began, as usual oblivious of commas or pauses. Camille waited for the inhale and jumped in.

"Thanks Talv, I was running low on meat. Stay for lunch?" she cut in smoothly.

Talv blinked, having lost his entire train of thought. It was a common occurance. The friendly and exuberant ranger spoke as fast as he handled his bow, at a breathtaking pace with little regard for direction or awareness of where he was.

"Sure." he said after a pause.

"I'm done here for now." she said, shooting a dark look at the stable doors. Grelin was already locking in the black stallion. "Let's head up to the guildhou...to the house."

A short quiet march later they found themselves in the large dining room.

The guildhouse of Razor's Edge. Once full and bustling with activity, the halls echoed with their footsteps. Camille had kept it neat and polished, more out of habit than for any need, since it was 12 times the size of anything she would need for material comfort. The sound of their passage reverberating off the walls reminded them of the size, and more sad, the emptiness.

"I'll boil some water for those rabbits." Camille said, filling a pot. Grelin was already using his druid fire to light the stove, and before long, the three sat waiting for the meat to cook into a stew, each lost in their own thoughts as they sat at the large officers table, in their old seats, reliving the ghosts of the past.

Here there used to be such familiar faces, now gone, some stopping by the visit Camille from time to time, others disappearing down whatever paths time deems when friends part. There sat Kaguera, the warrior woman general of Razor. Here at one time you could see Malkar the wizard sparking O'keil's embers to his meat when it came to his plate undercooked. There at the far end, Barnabe and Annir sat on high cushions, barely clearing the table, suffering jokes partly about short folks and mostly about halflings. There in the corner, Rocsalt's punching bag. Here was the chair made specially for Zullie, allowing the tail of the Iksar woman to pass through the back. All the chairs of the officers, the people Camille had dined with every night for years, had joked with, sang with, planned with, and finally, one morning, cried with.

There near the end was Nizzre's place, to the right of the head. To the left was Camille's, and the chair to her left, Bwael's, with its cushioned stool with no back, made especially for Bwael. The head ranger of Razor refused to put his bow aside even during dinners, and spent more time with his eyes on the door than anywhere else.

And of course, at the head, River's place.

The father of Razor's Edge, or at least, its frontman. River's connections had formed the guild, had somehow, through his interrelations with all those different people, brought them together under one roof. And formed a family. Arrogant, egotistical, blunt, confident Riverdane Wyldechylde. Why, River? she thought with a trace of anger. Why with all of these people around you, do you die alone? How does one find themselves alone among all these people? How? How could you leave me alone...

"Soup's done." Grelin said.

Camille began spooning it out, while Talvarien entertained them with the tales of his last few months travelling. Camille half listened, still haunted by the chairs of those gone. Kaguera had gone to Appotus Dominus, a military guild, unsurprisingly. Zullie had ended up with Order of Antondwer, and most of the others split between Walkers and Lucid Chimera. Some had said goodbye, some just disappeared. Most disturbingly were Nizzre and Bwael. The two brothers, the ones who had founded Razor with River, Grelin and her, had joined Lucid Chimera for a short while, Nizzre married, and then poof gone. No one knew, those few who still visited, where they had gone to. She hoped they were all right. They were grown men, but they had been like brothers to her, and having them missing affected her on more than one level.

"...but, ever since I restrung this one with fresh owlbear gut it handles like a dream..." Talvarien finished at last, patting his bow.

"Dream..." Camille murmured. Grelin's brow furled, and Talvarien put down his spoon and looked at her oddly.

"Cami, is something wrong?" Talvarien said, "Cause you just went white as a ghost when I mentioned...."

"What dream?" Grelin asked.

Camille paused, embarassed, not realizing she had spoken out loud. Then after a moment, took a deep breath. After all, they were still family, tags or not.

She began to tell them her dream.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"Brimstonnnnne..." Camille singsonged cautiously from the other side of the stable door. An angry snort answered her in reply.

Sigh, here we go again.

Camille had made sure to dress in full armor this time. The last time had her laying hands on herself in a panic as she found her arm nearly bitten in two. Only a fast regeneration from Grelin had saved the arm. She knew it was dangerous to attempt this without the half-elven druid there, but the night had left her feeling rattled and odd. And the danger of doing this alone was something she needed to draw her mind away from the crazy imagery and haunting cry of River's ... "Avenge..."

"Ok.", she said, brandishing the apple as if it were a weapon. She unlatched the lock from the outside of the stable and slowly pushed open the swinging stable door. "I'm not going to hurt..."

BAM.

The door was hit from inside with a massive force, slamming the doors outward, connecting solidly with Camille's head, which she foolishly led with to peek inside. The wood cracked hard against her skull, tossing her backwards onto her rear as consciousness threatened to leave her.

Inside the stable, a whinny of mockery.

"Dammit!" she growled, staggering to her feet. "I'm not trying to hurt you!" A blonde lock had fallen across a gash now openly bleeding on her forehead, making her golden hair copper red. The apple lay on the grass forgotten. She squared her shoulders and prepared to do her daily battle.

A finger appeared in front of her face, glowing green with light. It reached up to her forehead, touching the wound. A light touch, but it stopped her dead. The wound began to mend.

"No." Grelin said simply, as his magic began to mend the cut.

"That horse!" Camille exclaimed angrily. "It treats me like I'm an enemy!" She took another step toward the stables, but Grelin laid a hand on her shoulder, not forcefully, but it had the effect all the same. All the wired tension in her disappeared, and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Ah, what the hells did you cast?" she said, sitting down dejectedly onto a bale of hay. Grelin scooped up the apple from the ground and took a bite.

"Harmony." he smiled boyishly through his chewing. His short blonde page cut made him look even younger than the smile. Camille could not find herself angry with him, one of her oldest and certainly most quiet friend. Getting Grelin to use more than two words in a sentence would be as difficult as getting Brimstone to not kick her to death.

"That damned horse! I used to ride him, when River was alive!"

"Aye." Grelin said, then fell silent. That Aye said it all. River had been dead almost a year, and from the day of his death, Brimstone had known, and become the unmanageable wild stallion that now snorted in disdain in the stable.

"Every single day, you'd think it would remember me, or let me groom it." Camille commented. "But it knows its master's gone. Am I a fool, Grelin, to try to befriend it?"

"Him." Grelin corrected.

"Yes, HIM." Camille spit. "It's obviously male, pig headed, stubborn, obstinate..."

Another snort from inside.

"Ah, we AGREE on something!" Camille exclaimed in exasperation. Then she turned back to Grelin. "If it were a normal horse, this wouldn't be a problem. But a stallion of the Goddess of Nightmares...River was fascinated with her, and this horse. What went on between them, while I slept, during EndGame?"

Grelin shrugged with no answer. He had not been there.

"I miss him Grelin." Camille said forlornly, tears welling up. Grelin averted her gaze. She understood why. No one wanted to see her tears, once they had gotten past their own. Paladins don't weep. Knights don't cry.

Grelin's gaze found a figure approaching far in the distance. A rack of rabbits tied to a pole was slung over the visitor's shoulder, crisscrossing the long bow fixed there. The man was peering intently at the ground, following trail of broken grass from where Grelin had come upon Camille. So intent he was on the floor, that he walked straight into a low lying treebranch, almost knocking himself to the ground. Only then did he look up, rubbing his head, and seeing Camille and Grelin in the distance.

"Hi hi hi hi!" the man called, waving a hand in excited greeting.

"Food." Grelin said, motioning to the man and his pole full of skinned rabbits.

Camille recognized the ranger at once.

"Talvarien." she smiled.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"I don't get it." Talvarien said.

Camille sighed. "Neither do I, Talv. We cremated River. You and Grelin were there as we returned his ashes to the riverbed where he was born in Kithicor. Some of the Alliance folks had asked to erect a statue, but I didn't allow it, River wouldn't have wanted it. And that voice. 'Free...' What WAS that?"

"Bad milk." Grelin suggested.

"Ha!" Camille laughed. "Yeah, I suppose it may have been." But no upset stomach could have caused her mind to paint the pictures it did. Inside her, she knew that. Her face grew pale again.

"Bad milk or not," she said, "I'm afraid to go to sleep again."

Talvarien exchanged a look with Grelin. "Listen Cami, I'm in town for...however long. Why don't you set up our old rooms and we can stay through breakfast? I cook a mean egg. You never tasted eggs like Talv Upside Down Over Easy Scrambled Eggs. I juggle them first to pre-scramble them in the shell, then crack em like...." Grelin simply nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Talv." she said, covering his hand with hers. "I've never been afraid of the dark. But...I don't know."

"All good all good." Talvarien said, carrying the bowls over to the wash basin. "I'll clean up this, and you can get back to whatever you were doing before lunch."

"Thanks." Camille said, putting on a mailed gauntlet, "I just need to go to the armory and get my helmet." And with that she pushed through the door and was gone.

"Helmet? Where is she headed, the arena?" Talv asked in surprise.

"Horse." Grelin said simply, disappearing through the door after her.

"Ah, Brimstone." Talvarien said, shaking his head. He began rinsing the bowls.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

Darkness.

Camille is in total blackness. She senses she is outside from the breeze upon her skin, but she hears none of the noises that usually accompany the outdoors....no cricket song, no bass from the frogs, nothing. Slowly her eyes adjust to the gloom.

She finds herself inside a huge arena, with one opening to the outside. In the center floats a woman in a long black and purple dress, suspended in the air about four feet above the ground. The woman is as tall as a giant, standing a good 25 feet or more from the top of her head to the bottom of her dress. She watches the entrance as Camille takes in her size, and then looks around the rest of the room.

Statues.

On four pedestals crouch four large stone gargoyles, sentinels in the room. They do not move, being made of stone, but Camille senses some sort of life in them, or perhaps the detail work is just so precise she tricks herself into believing she can see them breathe. Each is slightly different than the other, and she slowly turns to take in each of them.

And her breath stops.

On a fifth pedestal behind her, stands River.

She begins to run to him, then stops, confused. His skin is too pale, his limbs raised and unmoving, his hair almost white....no, not white, she realizes, heart beginning to beat again. Gray. The gray of stone. River is yet another statue here, nothing more. And the woman in the center of the room is Terris Thule, she who had once shed a tear for Camille, while Camille lay locked in unnatural slumber. Shed a tear to help save the world, a world that feared her. Terris Thule, the Goddess of Nightmares.

Slowly Camille approaches River's statue. Why, she thinks. Why would Terris erect a statue of River here? She knows she is dreaming, and wonders if this is her mind placing the statue from her previous dream here in Terris' lair, after her questions to Grelin about River and the goddess' relationship. Or maybe bad rabbit on top of bad milk. But this doesn't feel like a bad dream. This feels like something...more.

Her hand reaches up to the statue,trembling, to touch River's lips. They seem so lifelike. But her fingers touch cold stone, almost jarring her from her sleep. She had so expected those lips to move when she touched them. The cool reality of stone makes whatever hope she has in her diminish to quiet mourning.

Suddenly, a noise from outside the collesium, loud enough in the eerie silence to startle her. She spins from the statue clumbily, unprepared for battle, if battle were needed. Her feet twist as she turns, and she falls backwards.

Two stone arms wrap around her from behind, breaking her fall and embracing her tight. She almost screams, she is so surprised. She had not heard a sound from the statue. She feels the lips press against her ear, and the statue speaks, in River's even voice, a voice she had not heard except for dreams for almost a year. In her older dreams, his voice was changing, as time slowly ate away at a clear memory of it. But this voice is the real River, with every nuance, pitch and tone identical to the living man. The only thing that is wrong is when he speaks in her ear, she does not feel the hot rush of breath on her neck. She does not struggle, just allows the embrace of stone. She had longed for that embrace so often in the past that it means little that it is hard and cold.

"Shhh." River whispers in her ear. "Watch."

And placing her hands over the cold stone ones crossing her breasts, she turns her eyes to the entrance as light explodes into the room.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

Arms reach through the entrance, brandishing large torches on spiked poles. With a thrust, the torches are planted on either side of the entrance. Two other figures step forward with large bowed sheets of glass, set up on tripods. The legs are flipped out to support the glass in front of the torches, magnifying the light, chasing away all shadows in the large arena. The night becomes bright as day.

"BUFF NOW.", booms a voice from outside, carrying as if amplified through the collesium. "SAVE MASS GROUP BUFF FOR LATER, WE'LL NEED IT. I WANT THIS DONE IN TWO MINUTES."

Then the hum and crackle of magical energies being spent, as the gloom behind the torches becomes blinding white light. Between the noises of the casting, other voices:

"....Why in Tunare's name can't we mass group buff? This is gunna wipe my mana..."

"....Just shut up, don't piss him off. He's been studying this fight for a week..."

"...VOQ to nuke team, wizzies, be in range..."

"...Focus inc, clerics, run now or don't bitch..."

"...we have a druid here for Nine or am I doing Virtue?...."

"....I did Nine in Tranquility, check your buffs, slacker. Use Symbol K...."

Then the first voice:

"BLOW YOUR RODS NOW IF YOU NEED MANA, AND NECRO, STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR BONE. POP A TWITCH ON AAMEDOR SO WE CAN GET THIS SHOW STARTED. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

And all through this, Camille watches Terris' hair lift as if charged with electrical energy, swaying in a breeze she couldn't feel, gathering energy for...something.

"FORTY SECONDS. YOU KNOW THE PLAN. PRON, FRONT AND CENTER. QUARKEN, IF HE DROPS, YOU'RE THE MAN. CLERICS KNOW YOUR ROTATION, AAMEDOR WILL START AND LEAD IT. THIRTY SECONDS. TREMAS, BE READY FOR ANY SURPRISES WHEN THE BITCH STARTS TO BLEED. TWENTY SECONDS. WHERE THE HELLS IS THE STANDARD? WHAT ARE WE, A FAMILY GUILD? KATARIN, GET THAT DAMNED FLAG PLANTED!"

An armored woman with a mandolin strapped to her hip, a woman Camille recognized, steps in front of the torches, carrying a flag on a stick. She stabs the other end of the stick into the dirt and retreats, leaving the flag flapping in the wind. On the flag is the picture of a man from the torso up, half sculpted from a block of clay that makes up his lower region. The man brandishes a torch burning bright.

"Promethian Order." River whispers in her ear needlessly. Camille knows the military guild well.

"FIVE SECONDS." the man, who could only be Akethadar, raid leader of Promethian Order, bellows. Terris' head turns for a moment to stare at Camille, eyes two huge black pools. And then her head snaps back to the army at her gates.

"ENGAGE!"

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

MOTION

Pron, ogre warrior and hammerhead of Promethian Order leaps through the opening, the rest of the guild following in a wedge with military precision and then splitting to either side against the wall. Pron is screaming something unintelligible, a gutteral warcry in his native ogre. Quarken, barbarian warrior, is sidestepping like a crab to Terris' side. The rogues appear briefly as they cross in front of the shadows, and then dart quickly around the others and disappear again, to reappear behind Terris with daggers raised. Rangers ring Terris at a safe distance, bows unslung. The shadowknights and paladins form a wall behind Pron, ready to intercept should Pron be unable to hold her attention. Aamedor is leading the other clerics to a spot close enough to heal the warrior, then falls with them to his knees, each in supplication to whatever god gives them their gift. Tremas is pointing to various spots on the wall, as shaman, wizard and enchanters peel off and wait patiently. Katarin is playing a war march on her flute, feet moving in time, close to the wizards for when they will need amplification of their power. The mages and beastlords hold tight leashes on their pets, who are going wild with Pron's scream. The necro has one hand clasped to his pet's armbone, the other hand free and glowing to feed mana where necessary. The one druid with them sits down to meditate, only to be jerked roughly to her feet by Akethadar.

"STAND, noob." he hisses.

Pron and Terris connect.

Camille involuntarily jerks back as Pron's dual swords cut into Terris, one to her side, the other to her arm, which flies up to cover her face. -Crack- Camille's head connects with River's stone chin, pain shooting through her head.

"Sorry baby..." he murmurs.

"Sok..." she says distractedly, eyes drinking in the battle.

The swords meet with resistance, cutting through, but not as deep as a swing from an ogre would cut on a normal mortal. But Terris is no normal mortal. Her wounds bleed thick black blood, and she strikes back with a vengeance.

"Beginning defensi..." Pron begins, crouching low as Terris unleashes her fury.

"NO!" Akethadar yells, switching tactics in a blink. "POP RIPOSTE NOW! CLERICS, BEGIN YOUR CYCLE NOW ON A SHORT CHAIN, THERE WILL BE NO DEFENSIVE."

"Riposte active now." Pron says automatically, weapons singing.

Terris, furious, is swinging at Pron with blinding speed, but as his riposte disc settles in, every blow is knocked back or deflected, with his free hand slicing at her sides. Any plan Terris had of ignoring the warrior is gone, such is her blood rage. The clerics are shooting blue light into the warrior, but for as long as his disc holds, he would suffer no damage. In fact, for every one of Terris' swings, he is hacking back twice.

"YOUR ALTERNATE ADVANCEMENT AT WORK, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN." Akethadar announces smugly. "QUARKEN, LEARN DOUBLE RIPOSTE IF YOU HAVEN'T."

"I got it two months ago," Quarken replies, waiting for the assist call. "Is this really the place to try new tacti...?"

"TASH IN. MALO IN. SLOW IN. KATARIN, GET THAT BITCH OCCLUDED."

The male enchanter runs forward, casting tash to strip Terris of her magic resistance. It lands, and between swings Terris backhands the enchanter. He flies across the room like a kicked ball and smashes into the wall, crumbling unconscious to the floor. A shaman casts Malo with less notice.

"THAT'S GUNNA HURT IN THE MORNING. GET THAT SLOW ON!"

Katarin's tune reaches Terris' ears, and more of her resistances are drained away. A second shaman is already chanting, a cloud of insects pouring from his hands, swarming for Terris' nose. They greedily fly into her nostrils, massing and crawling up from the smooth expanse of skin where her mouth would normally be, had she had one, and Terris' movements slow as she breathes in the flies. Camille for some odd reason felt pity well up in her, as Terris' flailing upon Pron grinds down.

"Slow is on!" the shaman says, and prepares to help the clerics.

"ASSIST on TERRIS THULE!" Pron calls, and the rogues' daggers descend. The air is full of arrows as the rangers let loose their first volley and restring for the next. Pets unleashed leap into the fray as Promethian Order descends upon the bleeding goddess.

"TREMAS, EYES OPEN. I HEAR SHE HAS TRICKS UP HER SLEEVE."

'More like up her DRESS!" Tremas exclaims, sweat beading off his tall Erudite forehead from the heat of the lights. "Check it out!"

Camille's eyes focus where he is pointing, and almost screams.

Terris' belly is extending splitting her dress open in the front. Her skin strethes and cracks, and from within her, wraithes, hideaous black shapeless bodies with beautiful colored moth wings pour out of her like a dam breaking open.

"SHE'S GOT BUTTERFLIES IN HER STOMACH." Akethadar says mirthlessly. "TAKE THEM OUT."

The wraithes, free of their confinement, dive onto the hapless druid, who whether in shock or confusion sat to memorize a different spell. The mistake costs her her life, as the wraithes rip her to bloody shreds in seconds.

"Stuns IN!" Tremas orders, as the two enchanters still in the fight begin to spin, hands building light. "Katarin, AMP US UP!"
Katarin has no time to nod, as she switches tunes and plays furiously, feet dancing with blinding speed as she lends power to the wizards.

-PULSE- shock waves pour forth from the enchanters in a palpable wave at the wraithes. The wizards begin to turn in time, hands burning red with wizard fire. They begin to empty their wrath into the colorful demons.

The wraithes are stunned momentarily, but some resist the shock wave and reach greedily for the source. One enchanter screams as a wraith locks its teeth onto his wrist.

"They're resisting! Where the hells are my heals??" he shrieks, as his hand is bit from hiswrist.

"The druid was our healer..." Tremas shouts, spinning, magical flames shooting from his fingertips, sizzling the flesh of the wraithes.

"LET HIM DIE." Akethadar announces mercilessly. "KNIGHTS, KEEP THE WRAITHES OFF THE WIZARDS!"

Like a machine, the shadowknights and paladins spin from the butchery of Terris, and march into the tangle of wraithes and casters, stunning and snaring the remaining wraithes, keeping them busy while the wizards finish their incineration. The one enchantress alive collapses in exhaustion against the wall.

"ON YOUR FEET!" Akethadar yells, to which she shakily stands. "THIS ISN'T OVER YET. PREPARE!"

Terris, bleeding from a thousand wounds, opens her black eyes wide, and they glow white.

Like a beam from a lighthouse cutting through the fog, she turns her gaze upon them. As the light washes over them, they slow, their adreneline bulging muscles contracting, the chanting becoming a whisper. And now, having completely stripped them of all their magical buffs and enhancements, she began to fight back and do damage.

"MASS GROUP BUFFS IN!" Akethadar ordered.

"Mass Group Buff KEI now...." the enchantress yells, stepping in close to the casters and clerics and letting blue light flow from her hands.

"Mass Focus UP!" the shaman who had maloed cries, positioning himself close enough to catch all.

"Group Alacrity incoming!" the other shaman calls.

"ALACRITY?"

"We're shy a few chanters." the shaman says apologetically, casting a watered down spell to hasten the swings of the melee.

"Virtue INC!" a cleric calls, dropping out of the rotation.

And quickly, precisely, the soldiers of Promethian Order are back in full swing, rebuffed and whittling down Terris like a fletcher's knife to an unshaped bow.

"SHE'S GOING DOWN LIKE A HALAS WHORE." Akethadar shouts. "BE READY. I'M SURE THESE STATUES AREN'T HERE FOR DECORATION."

And he is right. Camille feels River stiffen, limbs going back into the pose he was in before he embraced her. And while he stiffens, the other gargoyles begin to move, stone creaking as the leap down from their perches. One lifts its nose to the wind, and sniffs, its eyes blind, but its sense of smell keen. It smells blood, from the warriors and the chanters, and it and its three companions lope hungrily towards the fray. Terris' head snaps to the side, to glare in pain at Riverdane, and his lips are the only thing to move.

"I cannot..." he whispers.

A furious, betrayed look from Terris, one that nearly ripped Camille's heart in two. And then the bloody goddess turned back to the warrior carving her body.

"KATARIN, PLAY RABBIT TO THOSE DOGS." Akethadar announces. Kat is already moving, at a speed that almost defied following with Camille's mortal eyes. Katarin circled each gargoyle, stabbing at it once and passing, till all four were following the singing woman in a large circle around the fight, oblivious to their bloody mistress in the center.

"NOW IS THE TIME! DROP THIS BITCH!" Akethadar demands, "KNIGHTS, BE READY TO PEEL THESE OFF SONGBIRD WHEN TERRIS IS DEAD."

Terris howls, a mournful note rising from all around the room, as the bloodshed continues. And finally, she falls forward to the floor, black blood pooled around her like an inky pond. One of the rogue's daggers is still in her back.

"GOOD WORK! CLEAN THIS UP!" Akethadar shouts, as the knights begin to work over the gargoyles.

Camille is not surprised to find that she is crying, chest heaving uncontrollably as she sobs, eyes locked on the growing pool of blood, as Akethadar begins to remove a ring from the corpses finger.

And then, Akethadar notices the fifth statue.

"What's this?" he says to himself out loud, staring at the likeness of River. The statue does not move.

"Wyldechylde....." Akethadar hisses, recognizing. He is oblivious of Camille's presence two feet away. There is no surprise, no wonder, at why a statue of Riverdane Wyldechylde should be in the midst of Terris Thule's lair. Just an odd look that chills Camille as Akethadar smiles.

"QUARKEN, YOU HAD IT EASY THIS FIGHT. GET A STRENGTH ON HIM, SHAMAN. THIS STATUE IS COMING BACK TO THE GUILDHOUSE."

Noooo, Camille thinks, as Quarken is buffed and marches over unhappily to lift the statue off its base. He props it over one shoulder, and marches toward the exit.

For a second River's head tilts up, unseen to the others, and looks Camille straight in the eye.

"Venge..." he whispers.

And then he, Quarken and the others are gone.

Camille steps out of her shock, staring forlornly at the beaten figure of Terris in the center of the arena. Repulsed she walks through the blood, intent on seeing if the goddess' eyes are at least closed in death. A useless gesture, but one she felt compelled to provide. She stood over the fallen woman and reached down to turn her head up.

Suddenly, with an iron grip, Terris' hand grips Camille's arm like a vice, startling a choked scream from the paladin. She turns her mutilated face up to Camille.

~~VENGE~~ Terris shrieks insanely, the disembodied voice ringing in Camille's ears.

And then, in shock, Camille pitches forward as her consciousness flees, and all is black.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"See I told you..." Talvarien said from in front of the stove, as Camille walked groggily into the dining area. Grelin was already there, as Talvarien busied himself at a pan over the fire. "I make a mean egg, MEAN eggs. Bad egg! BAD! Ack ack, your brains are scrambled! Nono, let go of the spatula! Down egg DOWN! Nooooooo!"

Grelin chuckled, watching Talvarien mock wrestle with the frying pan, going into convulsions with two hands wrapped around the insulated handle. Camille tried to smile through bloodshot eyes but failed, and raised one hand in exhaustion.

"Not before coffee." she managed.

"Coming right u..." Talvarien started, grabbing a cup already prepared off the counter and spinning to face her. Then he got a good look at the bags under her eyes and her frown, and gingerly handed the cup over. "Um, usually one sleeps when they say 'I am going to sleep'."

"Dream?" Grelin asked, concerned.

"Aye." Camille confirmed, sitting down and gripping the coffee cup with two hands. She raised the cup to her lips and sipped. Perfect. She didn't know about Talvarien's eggs, but he made a good cup of coffee. "This is good, Talv."

Talvarien pulled up a seat next to her and watched her drink. "Soooo, I take it this one wasn't about the Mr. Antonica Bodybuilding Contest. More screaming statues?"

"And then some." Camille agreed, beginning to tell of her dream.

"Amazingly after that lovely vivid freak show I'm still hungry." Talvarien said. Grelin just looked pensive after hearing Camille's dream through to the end. Talvarien got up to inspect his breakfast. "Noooooooo, bad eggs! Cold, COLD eggs! Sigh, so, cold eggs anyone?"

They began to eat Talvarien's ruined breakfast. Even cold, they were still good.

"Soooo, what are we doing today?" Talv asked, cleaning up his work area. "Chat about the old gang, tangle with that killer horse? Blindfold ourselves and fire arrows at Orc One?"

"I don't know about you," Camille said, walking for the door. "But I'm going to speak with Akethadar from Promethian Order." She exited through the doorway. After a quick pause, Grelin disappeared after her.

"Greatttt." Talvarien said outloud to himself. "We're going to ask Promethian Order if they starred in any dreams lately." He looked forlornly at his half-empty cup of coffee, and gulped the rest down. "Yup, I get the feeling I'm gunna need this." Then he sprinted through the door, his voice carrying down the halls:

"Cami, Grelin, wait for meeeee!"

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

The guildhouse of Promethian Order was two times the size of Razor's Edge and four times as opulent. They had the money to spend on the finest wood, most polished marble, highest craftsmenship and it showed. Talvarien openly gaped as the went through the front lobby. Camille just continued to march, not sure how to proceed, working over and discarding a hundred opening speeches for when she saw Akethadar. Hi, do you have a statue of my dead husband? didn't seem like it would go over very well.

"Well," Talvarien said nervously, glancing around the lobby and its variety of statues and figurines. "I don't see River, can we go now?"

Camille shot him a look. "Did you think they would be using him as a lawn elf, holding a lantern?" she said dryly.

"Knowing how Akethadar felt about him, yes yes." Talvarien replied.

"Come on," Camille said, tugging Talvarien's elbow. They moved further in.

The place was huge. "I don't even know where to start." Camille commented.

Grelin pointed to the side, a separate room with the sound of many people in it. "Bar." he indicated.

"Ah, good idea." Camille said, steering the three into the in-house tavern of Promethian Order.

The place was bustling with activity. Too much activity. First thing Camille noticed was that at least half of the guild was in the bar area drinking and talking. For a guild as active as Promethian Order, if they weren't raiding they would usually be training. This kind of inactivity keyed her into the fact that something was out of place.

"Soooo, where to start?" Talvarien asked, pushing his way through the crowd. They paid him little attention, but the chatter dropped a notch as Camille entered the room. She had the distinct feeling most of the bar's attention was suddenly riveted on her. Then conversation kicked up again, but more hushed. Her skin crawled as she got the impression of being scrutinized by dozens of eyes.

After glancing around, she noticed Katarin sitting in a corner in the 'Member's Only', intent on retuning a mandolin that lay in her lap. She began making her way towards her, looking back once to address Talvarien and Grelin.

"Go hang out in the 'Guests and Applicant' side of the bar, guys." she said. "This will only take a moment."

Grelin nodded and took Talvarien by the elbow towards the less populated area of the bar reserved for non-guildmembers.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, friendly enough, to Grelin.

"Water." Grelin said.

"Well, that's a first, in here." the bartender chuckled, pouring a small glass. "One plat please."

Grelin fished out a platinum piece and dropped it on the counter.

"One plat!" Talvarien cried indignantly, "How much is a glass of wine, his left leg and firstborn??" And then he glanced to his right, spotting a beautiful red-headed female knight sitting alone. "Um, two glasses of wine please." He dropped 10 plat onto the bar. "I'll send you the leg tomorrow and the firstborn as soon as she delivers." he grinned, pointed to the knight. And then he slid over to her.

"Helllllllo." he said, placing the glass of wine in front of the woman, who looked up and smiled. "Guest or applicant?"

"Guest," she said, with a voice deep for a female, and undeniably sexy.

"Well, imagine that," Talvarien exclaimed with surprise. "SO am I! Talvarien, ranger." He extended his hand.

"Bonlainy, paladin." she said, going to shake his hand. But with a smooth move Talvarien caught her hand and brought it up to his lips, lightly kissing the back of it.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Talvarien replied.

Bonlainy looked at him oddly. "You don't want to do that, sailor." she said, withdrawing her hand slowly. "I'm a mangina."

Grelin choked on his water. Talvarien sat down close to her and went on blithely.

"Mangina? What's that?" he said, "Sounds foreign. Foreign is sexy. S-E-X-Y, sexy."

"Mangina? You really want to know?", Bonlainy chuckled. "Ok, loverboy. I'm from Walkers, and it happened long ago, on our first Fear break. It went horribly, corpses piling up, including mine, and time ticking down. We were close to the three hour mark, and we feared the entire guild would be wiped. So Whizbang tells us to swallow our pride, and calls in Regression to corpse recover us. Of course, we should have done this a long time ago, but we were thickheaded then. Regression swoops in, and starts mass ressurecting us. But my body is too old, I'm toast. Oh, by the way, at the time I was a man, my name was Bono. Anyway, Divide, the human female monk who led Regression, dies several times to deathtouches while pulling us all back to camp. In the rush, she left several corpses. And as I'm floating there, feeling the pull of Marr to claim my soul, all I'm thinking about is my little girl, whom I would leave orphaned; her mother had died at childbirth long ago. So, having lost my body, when they went to resurrect Divide's bodies, I fought Marr's call and took Divide's place in one of them. Bye bye Bono, hello Bonlainy. And let me tell you, high heels are a bitch. So that's what mangina means, man with a vagi...."

"CHECK PLEASE!" Talvarien called, staring at the wall.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

Camille stood at the edge of the booth, looking down at Katarin, who was tightening one of her instrument's strings, lost in the job.

"Kat..." Camille began.

Kat's head snapped up and registered Camille standing over her.

"Oh my god, Cami..." she said, looking around hastily to see if she was observed. Serveral eyes had followed Camille's progress through the bar, but they were elsewhere now.

"Can I sit down?" Camille asked, after a pregnant pause.

"Oh, yes, sorry." Katarin said, motioning to a spot in the booth opposite her. "Forgive me, you just....startled me."

Startled was a good word for it. And Camille noticed something else on Katarin's face, totally out of place...guilt.

"First off," Camille began, settling in, "I'd like to thank you properly, for singing at River's funeral. I know he would have enjoyed that, he loved your singing..."

"Was my pleasure." Katarin replied, waving it off, "I only wish it wasn't a performance for the reasons it was..."

"And secondly, is more business." Camille said, jumping right to the point. "I need to know if..."

"...it's gone." Katarin said quickly, face pained. "I'm sorry, I know it must have been a shock to find it miss..."

"Gone?" Camille asked blankly. Katarin registered it differently than it was intended.

"The memorial to River. It's gone." Katarin repeated quietly. "But I want to assure you Promethian Order was not the ones who took it from wherever you had erected it. We found it in Terris Thule's lair, and we weren't even sure it was yours until you showed up here out of the blue. Akethadar swore Terris planted it there to tick him off, reading dreams or something."

"The statue...was here." Camille repeated in a daze. All color drained out of her face. The nightmares, all true. But how, why...?

"I just want to make sure you know we Promethians are not bad people. We would never deface a grave. And not all of us hated River or blamed him for what happened during End Game, that was beyond any of us." She looked genuinely striken through the entire monologue. Bards were known to be good actors as part of their trade, but Camille had no reason to doubt Katarin's sincerity.

"Tell me..." Camille said, unsure of how to proceed, stomach flipping at the thought of River whispering in her ear. "Tell me more about the statue...and where it is now." Could it be? Could River still be alive in that stone, somehow? Someway? Or was it merely a statue, and her mind had added the parts of it moving and speaking to her as her heart refused to let go of the one man she had ever truly loved? And what of 'Avenge' and 'Venge'? And that awful voice 'Free...'? Her mind ran amok with questions.

"What I am about to tell you now you must promise to me you will never repeat to another living soul." Katarin said in a whisper, eyes back darting around the room. "If anyone finds out I've told you, I could be thrown out of the guild, and I need my job."

"I promise." Camille lied. It hurt her abstractly to lie to Katarin like that, but anything that may pertain to River still being alive out there was her first priority.

"Can I get you ladies something to drink?" a barmaid asked, appearing at the edge of the booth. Katarin waved her away with one hand.

"No, no, we're good." Kat said, and the barmaid walked away to serve another table.

Kat picked up the mandolin and started playing, a light soothing song. The barmaid passed by them again, but the closer she got, the more her focus started to slip, till she blankly stared and walked past. As she got further away, her focus seemed to come back, and expression returned to her face.

"There." Katarin said softly, continuing to play. "That will keep away listening ears."

"Tell me." Camille begged, leaning forward to not miss a single word. The need to know was eating at her like acid.

And Katarin began her tale.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"Ake was obsessed with the statue. OBSESSED. He thought Terris, sensing we were coming for her by tapping into Ake's dreams while he plotted her takedown, arranged for a likeness of Riverdane to throw him off. Fortunately, we never even saw it till it was all over, 'cause I think Ake would have lost it had he seen it. Ever since the Fear thing during End Game, he was on an anti-River kick, down to warning against us attending the funeral, nice try, and actually celebrating with some of River's political enemies when Razor's Edge was disbanded afterward. It was an ugly side of him, but that was between him and River, normally he's not as bad as his public image sometimes presents, and he IS a damned good raid leader.

Anyway, the statue came back with us after we defeated Terris. The news travelled fast that we had taken out the Goddess of Nightmares, even had we wanted to hide the fact that we took out a goddess, things of that scale don't go unnoticed long. But the statue is something we kept quiet. Some, like me, suspected what you've confirmed just by being here: the statue wasn't created by Terris to taunt Akethadar, but actually taken by her from a memorial. I have to admit, with my schedule lately I haven't been to the river in Kithicor, so I had never seen that you had put one up. But I had a feeling you were the one, and I've been dreading the day one of our people slipped with the tongue and you came looking for it. I'm so sorry Cami, I was mortified; I didn't know what to do, and I'm more than a little embarrassed it wasn't me who told you about it, but....how can I apologize enough? It was my job, you know, on the line. Work for bards is hard enough to find, especially with the pay as good as it...

I'm sorry, I'm drifting. The statue came back to the guildhouse, and Ake had Quarken place it in his private chambers. Then, rather than attend the post-raid party, Ake just locked himself up with it. I was busy with the rest of the guild, and I'll have to admit, I was getting a buzz on. It's not every day you take out a god. And suddenly, Akethadar sends for me.

So, there I am, head swimming, when the maid ushers me into the room. Akethadar is in his training outfit, covered with sweat. One of the lounge's pianos has been wheeled into the room in a corner. And Ake's knuckles are bleeding, dripping onto the floor. I mean really beat up. And his eyes are sort of flat, odd, but not too odd for Ake. He gets that look when he's heavy in planning or just before a raid moves. People say he's a little crazy, his brains scrambled from all the rezzes when he pulls, but it's not that...people don't know him like I do. He's just very very focused. I see you don't agree, but like I said, you have to work close with him like I do to understand it. I'll stop singing his praises, this is something we'll never agree on....

So he's bleeding all over the marble floor, and I'm standing there, partially wasted from too much ale. All I'm thinking about is going back to the party a little and getting some good smoke, and then passing out in my room. And Ake points to piano and asks me to play something classical. So I do. What do you say when your boss tells you to play? You just play, so I played.

As I begin, Ake starts circling the statue, like one of those big cats from Iceclad. Round and round he circles, breathing evenly, eyes closed, but feet still guiding him in a perfect circle. You can tell he's getting into the music, and I have to tell you, playing it, I watched him, and I felt hypnotized, watching him circle like that. I think we were both hypnotizing each other. I don't know...

Then suddenly, like a snake, Akethadar takes a swing at the statue, right into River's face. CRACK. I heard bones crunch in Akethadar's fist, and the statue's nose splits open a new wound on his knuckle, spraying blood onto the statue's face. I stop playing, it's obvious Ake just broke his hand.

PLAY, he says. I think I mumbled something about him needing a cleric, but he just fixes me with that flat look. PLAY he repeats, so I do.

Now I'm feeling really uncomfortable, but he starts that even circle again, and I see his muscles loosening. He's leaving this bloody trail as he walks around the statue, ringing it in red. And then, again with no warning, he plants and kicks to the statue's chest. Nothing, the statue doesn't even budge, so much so that Ake is thrown off balance and lands on his ass.

Then he goes nuts, getting up, going into some crazy monk posture and goes to town on the statue, pummelling, flailing, like a wild man. And all the while I'm scared out of my wits, trying to keep playing to calm him down or something. I even try using my magic to soothe him, but nothing is working. And meanwhile, the statue is unyeilding, and blood is all over the room, as Ake practically cuts himself to ribbons. It's splattering everywhere, the bed, the piano everywhere. Ake is swinging wildly, and missed the statue, and puts his broken fist THROUGH the stone wall. Cami, I don't know what the hells you had that statue made of, but it was harder than granite. And seeing his hand in the wall and the statue unbroken, Akethadar just redoubled his effort. I don't know which was more unbroken, the statue or his rage. Finally, after the blood started getting on ME, I couldn't take it anymore. I just stopped playing and ran out; I don't even think Ake noticed. I found Aamedor and quietly sent him to take care of him, and then went to my room and washed the blood off of me and passed out. The next day I saw Akethadar, and Aamedor had done the job, he seemed healed. Ake didn't say anything to me, like it hadn't happened, and I wasn't about to bring it up. For the next few days we didn't see Akethadar around the guildhouse; he stayed holed up in his room. But he didn't call for me. Aamedor I did spot heading that way several times during that time. Ake's maid quit near the end."

"This is....horrifying." Cami said, finding her voice. "All that hate...."

"Akethadar is an intense man." Katarin said, as if that explained it. "Quite honestly, I was freaked out, but not surprised. He and River had a lousy past, and Akethadar treats all of his enemies the same, without mercy. It's just that Akethadar wanted to split that stone, it was a matter of pride, and even in death, River defied him."

Camille smiled without mirth. "Yeah, that was River, he could get a rise out of a corpse."

"But..." Katarin said, "All that craziness aside, that's not the bad part...."

Camille just stared at her, willing her to go on.

And on she went.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"What do you know about Grieg Veneficus?" Katarin asked. Camille was startled by the question.

"Um..." she said. "Just that he was instrumental in us getting up to Luclin in the old days."

"Alright," Katarin said, "You know the name, that's enough. He was a powerful geomancer, drawing his power from stone and earth, manipulating the properties of gems, things along those nature, and as much a scientist as a magic user. He was one of the few non-gnomes that ever mastered tinkering beyond the mechanical bait we other races can throw together. Anyway, he had a castle you may or may not have heard about off Dawnshroud Peaks on the light side of the moon. When the Combine Empire wanted off Luclin in the early days, and he couldn't find a way to reverse what he had done, they turned on him and holed him up in his castle. He became a recluse, working on a way to return the unhappy populace back to their native Norrath. He was never heard from again, and presumably died there. Some of the lore indicates Luclin, the goddess herself, intervened in some way with his progress, but that may just be a dramatic flair prior bards had added to make the songs more interesting. A lot about Luclin is hazy, we tellers of the stories not having actually been there, and instead, picking up tidbits from the moon folks.

History lesson over. Promethian wanted to hit Grieg's castle. Tremas had an idea if Grieg had been a geomancer, there was probably a wealth of gemstones cached somewhere inside his old castle, as well as the possibility of ore for bane weapons in our eventual plan of attack of Emperor Ssraeshza. So we gear up, port into Dawnshroud, and enter the castle.

Well, I can see why it's been left alone, place seems empty, but you take just five steps inside, and bam, this thing that looked like a rockhopper pops out of nowhere, and attacks us. The thing is much stronger than any rockhopper I've dealth with, but we take it out. Quarken gets bit, and after a few moments, I don't see Quarken. Instead, there's this woodelf woman with us I've never seen before wearing his armor. Meanwhile, she's talking just like quarken, his voice everything. So I say to Pron, who the hells is she, and points. And Pron freaks and draws his sword and rushes the girl, and the girl says in Quarken's voice What the hells, Pron? and parries the swing that would have killed her. And meanwhile Pron is saying ASSIST ON A VAMPIRE BAT and the whole guild is looking at him like he's nuts. So he sort of stops, realizing the woodelf is making no move to attack him. And Tremas says, why the hells are you attacking a plant, Pron? And after enough confusion, Akethadar finally realizes that whatever bit Quarken injected him with some poison, that must ooze out of the skin like a gas or something and infect the minds of whoever is around them, making them hallucinate that the infected is something else, at least until it is out of their system. So, the rest of the crawl is pretty nuts, with us moving on, aggroing more of these weird sentinels and half the time trying to kill each other instead of the mobs.

But we push on, we don't back down easily. After a while, it actually got amusing, and we started to recognize which were the traps and which were really us, and by assisting Pron only instead of tank plowing, Pron was the only one to get bit, so we only had to worry about one shapeshifter. And we moved deeper in. We didn't know if these were old traps or something new, but we got the sense something was happening.

Finally we got to what had to be Grieg's chambers. I won't detail the route or how we got there, it's not important. The important thing, was, SOMETHING was there, alive, the ugliest piece of garbage I had ever seen. It was this purple floating....blob, mass of...something. It still had some guards around it, odd four-armed natives of Luclin, but we took them out easily enough. And then the fight with this thing itself starts.

It was casting areas, bad. Some sort of spell where the gravel floor in the room rose up to our knees like a flood, snaring us all as effectively as if we were crawling through mud. And trying to approach it, every now and then it'd pulse light, and anyone near it would be blown back clear to the other side of the room, to have to crawl their way back to it. And it's proccing some sort of blindness on Pron, who after the assist call is yelling 'Where the hells is it?' and meanwhile it's three feet away. Fortunately, Pron's instincts kicked in on the engage and he planted himself in a corner, or he would have been blown across the room and probably would have killed one of us thinking it was this floating turd.

All during the fight, the purple thinf is going through the same transformations we had seen our own people go through, but rapidly, shifting forms and races like it was made of elastic. And the fight rages on, stun stun stun. But we're hurting it, bad, and finally Tremas lands big nuke just as it is flinging out one of those big stuns.

Well, the stun lands just before the nuke, blowing the entire guild into the wall. Except Ake, he was timing the stuns, and it didn't take someone as focused as he gets long to figure it out. He dives behind a door as the stun goes off, and missed getting tossed completely.

Tremas' nuke lands, and sizzle goes the purple blob, and drops to the floor like a balloon with the air let out. JUST like a balloon, cept it isn't air that leaks out of it, it's this black gas. And the gas coalesces, and what does it form into, but the form of Old Grieg himself, if the paintings in some of the rooms were accurate. And Grieg takes off back toward where we had pulled the purple people eater.

Ake is the only one not crawling through this gravel, having been out of the room behind the door, when Greig runs past him. Ake yells, I GOT IT and follows, and we hear the sounds of a struggle as we come out of our stuns and crawl through the liquid rock. And when we get there, there's Ake, standing over the corpse of Grieg, and just looking around the room in a daze. Tremas asks him if he's ok, and he just tells Tremas to loot the corpse, and continues to stand there, totally not with it. It's enough to be noticeable, but Tremas takes over, and tsarts pointing people around the room to strip anything they find. You know, the plunder part of pillage and plunder.

Trem was right, there's a load of gems, tho no ore for weapons. And other things, nice stuff, flowing thought gloves, and a silk bridle that summons a horse, a wisdom caster breast plate that had Aamedor drooling. And then Tremas goes to grab this blue gemstone, rather large, that was sitting on a velvet pillow near the bed in the room.

LEAVE IT, Ake commands, coming out of his fog, and shoots Tremas a look that made my skin crawl. It was....mean, like, nasty. And unlike Ake, even when I have seen him at his worst, even when he was working over the statue.

Tremas must have sensed it too, cause he just put up both hands in supplication and went elsewhere. And then Akethadar tells us to grab the rest of the stuff and go, immediately, and stalks out of the room.

Quarken almost grabbed the gem anyway, but something about Ake's tone must have freaked out Tremas, cause Tremas just goes off on Quarken and they end up leaving without the gem. I don't blame Tremas...had I been in charge of loot and Ake told me to leave something, like he did, I would have without thinking twice. I think Ake would have murdered Tremas had he disobeyed him."

Camille had taken this all in, and cut in when Katarin took a breath to continue.

"Kat, what does this have to do with the statue?" she asked, intrigued but confused.

"I'm getting to that," Katarin said, with a sad look on her face, and then continued.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"We got back to the guildhouse after distributing the loot, and the post-raid winddown starts, with most of us here in the bar. Akethadar goes immediately into his room, for what I thought would be another bout with the statue. After a while, tho, the normal call near the end of the night from Ake's new maid to Aamedor to patch him up doesn't happen. Aamedor gets concerned and calls me with him, I grab Tremas and we go to check on Ake.

After knocking on the door for ten minutes, Aamedor finally pushes it open. And there's Akethadar, standing completely naked in front of an open window, with all the torches out, staring up at the moon and talking to himself. Just mumbling nonsense phrases, in an odd voice. He's not cut or anything, unlike the other times he's been with the statue. In fact he's ignoring it, and us. Just mumbling, bathed in moonlight, his skin so pale he almost looks like a statue himself. I of course shouldn't be looking at this, and leave and close the door. Then more mumbling, and Aamedor comes out, saying Ake ordered him to leave him with Tremas. I hear Tremas asking if he's alright, and then more mumbling. And then I hear the sound of Tremas porting. I opened the door, but they were both gone. And so was the statue.

Aamedor and I left the room and headed as fast as selo's would take us to West Commonlands, to the wizard portal, hoping that would be where Tremas came back, when he did. Stayed there the whole night, biting my fingernails, while Aamedor almost fell asleep. We finally went home around five in the morning and I slept through the afternoon. I had figured wrong, Tremas came back with Ake via North Ro, and I missed all the drama when he returned and then slept through the debriefing of the rest of the guild.

What I'm going to tell you next came directly from Tremas, and there's parts he hasn't even told the guild, so you have to keep this to yourself, cause it's not only embarrassing, it's disturbing.

Ake had told Tremas between gibberish to port him and the statue to Dawnshroud. Tremas tried to get more out of him, but Akethadar just went on mumbling, till with heavy reservations Tremas did as his superior officer asked and left me and Aamedor outside the room while he brought a stripped Akethadar and the statue of River to the moon.

He said the port in was ringed with mobs, these tall gangling humanoid shaped with black scarfs or something tied across their faces. They were digging holes around the port-in area, burying large chunks of glowing rocks in a ring around where druids and wizards usually land. They certainly didn't look friendly, and the bodies of a few dead woodelves were collecting flies nearby, most likely the remains of the last group to port in. The scarved mobs raised their shovels to attack us, but Akethadar mumbled a few sentences, and they slowly lowered their shovels. And then, as one creature, half a dozen of them picked up the statue and started dragging it away.

Tremas was completely freaking out, but Akethadar was smiling, staring after them. And then, in his own voice, clearly, Akethadar said to no one in particular....'There you are. Now you are free....'..."

"...'Free...'.." Camille whispered.

"Yes," Katarin continued. "And then Akethadar, raid leader of one of Norrath's largest military guilds, a man who masterminded the take down of a goddess, pissed down his own leg. And all he did was laugh as he did it, not even glancing down. And Tremas said the laugh was totally incredibly insane.

Tremas had seen enough, and tried to port out of there, but for some reason, half a second after he began his port spell, it just...failed. No fizzle, no nothing, just a failure to port. And the things that had dragged off the statue were coming back. So he grabbed Ake by the hand and led him, still laughing, like a crazed child away from the port-in. It took him a good quarter-mile from the port-in area to actually get his teleport to take, and finally went the North Ro route, Akethadar still laughing in tow, and snuck him in the back way to the guildhouse.

We haven't raided since, Cami. Most of us know bits and pieces of what's happened, and we spend a lot of our time in here trying to forget the fact that our leader is a raving lunatic. We tried posting a 24 hour guard on him, but one fell asleep, and Ake..." she faltered.

"What?" Camille asked quietly, "What did Akethadar do?"

"He clawed his own eyes out." Katarin whispered.

Camille's hand gripped the edge of the table hard. "I'm sorry Kat."

"So am I..." Katarin said softly. "So, the statue is gone, on Luclin somewhere. If you are going after it, Cami, be careful." She put her hand over Camille's and squeezed to drive her next point home. "Something got into Ake's head when we went into Grieg's. Something bad. And Ake isn't easy to break. But he's broken, bad, ok?"

"I understand." Camille whispered, looking into the bard's haunted eyes. Katarin let go, offered a small odd smile.

"Go get your friends and get going." she said, "Quarken's been looking over here too much, and he's a nasty drunk." And then she waved to the bar maid as Camille stood. "Barmaid, something strong....no ice. Just one."

Camille took that as her dismissal and made her way to Grelin and Talvarien at the bar.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

"We need to go, guys." Camille said.

"About time!" Talvarien said, "...'this will just take a second...' she says! At these prices, I almost had to sell Grelin for some ice!" Then he pointed to Bonlainy's back, as the red-headed paladin was making her way out of the bar. "What a waste, you see the way she walks? She's a mangina. You know what a mangina is?"

"Bono?" Camille replied. "Yes, a shame, but at least he did what was right for his little girl."

"What the hells!" Talvarien exclaimed indignantly, "What was I, dead, when they gave the speech about manginas?"

"Probably." Grelin smiled.

"Talv," Cami said gently, "You ARE a ranger..."

"Alright alright enough!" Talvarien cried, hands up in supplication. "Enough with the ranger-bashing. I get enough of that when I see my mother."

"Well well..." a drunken voice said nastily, as its owner appeared suddenly to Camille's right. Quarken. "Mrs. Wyldechylde! Started whoring the bars when your inheritance ran out?" The smell of liquor on his breath washed across her as she frowned.

"I was just leaving, Quarken." Camille said brusquely, starting to walk away.

"Not so fast." Quarken said, stepping in front of her with agility of a man only half as drunk as he was. "What bring you here to enemy ground?"

"Personal business." she replied curtly, and tried to shoulder past his barbarian frame. But he moved fast, catching the wrist of her sword hand and pulling her in close to him.

"What business?" he asked, his grip iron.

Grelin grabbed Quarken's hand. "Hands off." he said quietly.

Quarken paused for a moment, staring incredulously at the young man's hand on his. And then with alarming speed, Quarken picked up Grelin with one hand by his shirt and tossed him over the bar. Glass tinkled as Grelin hit the floor.

Like a flash, Talv reached over his shoulder to draw his bow. He pulled it off his back.....CRACK and it hit the edge of the bar loudly. Talv fought for his grip on it, other hand drawing an arrow, nocking it and pulling back....WHACK his elbow connecting solidly with the bartender's face and TWANG in the confined quarters Talv's sweating hands let loose the actual bow on the disturbed draw and THUNK the bow snaps back to strike Talvarien squarely across his nose, bloodying it before he dropped it in a daze to the ground. Vision swimming, Talvarien brought up his then empty fists and waved them around wildly.

"NOBODY MOVE OR THE RANGER GETS HURT!" he warned shrilly.

"So," Quarken asked again, breathing fumes in Camille's face, as she tried to wrench free of his grasp. "What business?"

"Take your hands off the lady." a hooded man said quietly from the bar. He was hovering over a mug of ale, face obscured.

"Stay out of this, applicant." Quarken said slowly. "We may be shy on monks lately, but I won't hesitate to blacklist you, Brother."

"I'm not your brother." the man said evenly, drawing back his hood. Camille recognized him instantly, the shaved clean head, the chiselled features, the eagle sharp eyes.

"Roc...?" she said in shock.

"Don't make me hurt you, Rocsalt." Quarken said, but his grip on Camille's wrist was wavering.

"Hurt me?" Rocsalt Di'Varr, former officer of Razor's Edge, said calmly. "Boy, I have more alternative advancement training under my belt than you have hair on your balls." And then added, after an appraising look at the fuming Quarken, "Although in your case, I could have just turned Baron and still said that, I suppose."

Camille forgotten, Quarken released her wrist and grabbed in a rage for the monk.

Riverdane · Member Joined: 21 Nov 2001 Posts: 1434

Quarken learned three lessons that day, lessons that had he been sober, he would have realized he knew already.

LESSON ONE: Don't ever fight a monk with your bare hands

Quarken's hands reached to pull Rocsalt off the bar stool. But Roc wasn't there. With a flex of his leg muscles, Roc planted his heels into the crossbars near the base of the stool, and leapt straight up. Quarken's lunge ended up with him grabbing air, as Rocsalt simply was not there. The monk instead came down on top of the bar, and delivered a kick under Quarken's chin. Had Quarken's tongue not been back far enough, the barbarian warrior would have bitten his own tongue in two.

The rest of the bar, some with amusement, some with fear, scattered to the side. Quarken dived at Roc's legs in front of him.

Again, Rocsalt wasn't there. With a high leap, Rocsalt dove up and over Quarken, as Quarken rushed the bar with a rage. As Quarken's belly hit the edge of the bar, Roc came down behind him on his hands, and pushed back up, both feet pistoning out at Quarken's rear. The spring kick propelled Quarken up in the air over the bar, sending the enraged warrior into a rack of bottles, shattering glass and drenching him in ten different varieties of alcohol. Meanwhile, Roc came out of the spring smoothly and landed on his feet, and without a look back started to walk away from the bar. Quarken stumbled to his feet, bleeding from superficial wounds from the glass, but more wounded in the pride area. He picked up a broken bottle and climbed back onto the bar, eyes locked on Roc's retreating form, murder in his eyes.

LESSON TWO: If you attack a monk with a weapon, be sober enough to use it

With a roar, Quarken jumped off the bar at Roc's back, broken bottle raised, jagged edges glinting dangerously. Roc deftly stepped to the side, hands reaching back, locking Quarken's forearm at the wrist. Then, one, two, three, Rocsalt forced Quarken's locked hand down at a close table, striking it three times with the broken bottle. The bottle shattered more each time, until Quarken was left with nothing but a bit of broken glass in his hand. Roc released his grip and danced to the side.

Quarken reached down and grabbed one of the legs on the table, and with a flex and the sound of splintering wood, tore it free of the table. He turned to Rocsalt brandishing it like a club, waving it back and forth as he advanced towards the monk. Stabbing with the splintered edge, he backed Rocsalt up against the bar, more cautiously this time, as pain and humiliation sharpened his ale-addled senses.

Another lunge at Roc, and Roc was up and leaping onto the bar. But now the bar was covered in spilled booze and glass. Roc's feet slipped from underneath him on the wet countertop, and he tried to adjust himself by jumping onto a nearby table. He realized as he was landing a moment too late that he chose as his landing spot the table Quarken had used to get the wooden leg. With only three legs to support Rocsalt, the table flipped over, dropping Rocsalt like a sack of flour onto the floor. Roc's head hit the floor with a dull thud, and his whole body went slack as he stopped moving. Quarken laughed nastily, stepping over the unconscious monk, one foot on either side of his body, and raised the splintered leg high. Camille watched helplessly from across the room as Quarken brought down the leg to impale Rocsalt into the floor.

LESSON THREE: No matter how drunk you are, never forget you are fighting a feign death class

Without even opening his eyes, Rocsalt swung up his foot and kicked Quarken between the legs with a sickening thump. Quarken howled like a dog shot with an arrow, club dropping uselessly to the ground, as he cupped his bruised crotch and staggered against the bar for support. Roc semi rolled back onto his shoulders and then from a laying position jumped back up to his feet. Quarken, with tears of pain pouring down his face, was gesturing weakly at his guildmates.

"What the hells are you looking at!" he yelled, face still in agony. "Get them!"

"Get close." Grelin said, stepping between Rocsalt and Camille, as Talvarien grabbed his dropped bow and ran to them. The druid began chanting.

Quarken collapsed to the floor, hands pressed to his lap. He looked like he was about to be ill. At this point the shocked Promethians had come out of their daze at seeing Rocsalt wipe the bar with their second assist, and were angrily moving in on the intruders in their bar.

But, with a flash of green light, the four were gone.