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Topic: Redeemer: Prologue (Read 96 times)
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Marid Al Zalsphere
Sentinel
Well-versed
 Offline
Posts: 1813
Lord of Blades
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For years Nova Qlynnesti had been under the control of Lomion's minions and forever it would seem this control would last. But, forever has met an abrupt speed bump. For in the now darkened halls of Soliath walk the Morquendi, dark and vile creatures that deal with these men and women. It is under their guidance the underworld tunnels that the minions travel through has been completed. But, there is unrest within the ranks, some are whispering of dark deeds being committed not only by the Morquendi but by their own brethren.
It is true that those who worship the Goddess of the Moon do partake in darker rituals, but not all reach to the depths of the radical few. These radical few are the ones slowly driving a wedge between themselves and the people that serve them. One such is a man known by his fellows as Jay, though his true name is Jonathan Lysander. Lysander is an elf of all creatures and he has spent many, many years learning their ways and becoming one of them. But with the recent developments finds himself wanting a way out, he wants to become a Redeemer. Redeemer, this is the word given to those who turn their back on Lomion and embrace the light- though it is rarely Kala of whom they turn to.
It was with a heavy heart that he made this decision, but he will now stay true to his course, he will find help to stop those vile creatures and he had but one place to turn to : Draconia. Years of war had weakened the Empire, but they were slowly regaining their strength and he had many friends still inside of the under-workings of the Minions. They had agreed to over-throw one of the smaller cities to give Draconians a place to set base, but he wondered if this fool's errand would really work.
But that was too late a thing to contemplate, too many expected so much of him, as he stood on the steps of Dragonspire. He was not dressed in the robes of his mistress, but rather in normal travel clothes. When he entered the city he did not waste time looking at the beauty of the rebuilt gem, but rather found shelter as nightfall sneaked in upon him. He feared the darkness, he feared sleep. If they found out what he was up to, surely they would send a Morquendi assassin to kill him.
Jonathan was an expert bowman, but only a mediocre swordsman, thus why he feared the assassins. He knew his blade, though stout, would not hold sway over these fiends. As he sat to rest for the few hours required for an elf, he entered a dream state and would not waken until his body was fully rested, nearly six hours as he had forsaken sleep for nearly three days. But when his eyes did open to stare at the morning light, he whispered a thank you to whatever Gods were on his side.
He cleaned himself up and left the inn that he would call home for the next few days. It was with the signet ring he had acquired on his way here that he would see the Emperor, or rather those standing in his steed. The Patriarch, The Chancellor and The Praetor. With an uncertain heart, but with defiance in his step, Lysander approached the towering building and spent his time talking to the guards before finally convincing them he was indeed a noble.
Once inside, he made straight for the Dragon Throne. Some would call him suspicious, which it would be, elves were not commonplace in Draconia this day and age. But that did not stop him from stepping foot into the throne room and looking around. Seated in three chairs before the throne were those he sought and a ragged breath escaped his lungs. How could he possibly convince them? With this in his heart, his mind would steel over as he made his approach.
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« Last Edit: Dec 23, 2009, 09:26 PM by Marid Al Zalsphere »
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Marid Al Zalsphere
Sentinel
Well-versed
Offline
Posts: 1813
Lord of Blades
|
So they had listened to this man's words and reluctantly agreed to go to war. Marid had been against it for the most part, but he did not think about such things at the moment as he stood before a boy of perhaps eighteen with his arms folded. "Attack me." He demanded, "do it right this time." So again, for the fifth time he attacked and Marid easily side-stepped and turned his body slightly to dodge each and every attack. Anger and frustration were appearing on his grandson's face before Marid side-stepped an over-head chop and his right arm unfurled into a backhand that turned the boy in a one-eighty and knocked him silly for a moment.
"There is no anger, no frustration, no hatred. It is a thing to relish and enjoy, the fight no matter how hard is a joy. Learn to love it and it will love you in return." It was nothing the young man hadn't heard before, but when Marid said it, he couldn't help but take it to heart. He respected and more than anything desired to be just like him.
"Again. This time I want you to fuel that anger into solidarity. Make it a cold desire, not burning hot." Once again he attacked Marid, his anger slowly fading down into the depth of his personal soul. Ice replaced it and when Marid launched a second backhand, he ducked it and stabbed upward grazing the Isparian's shirt, but doing no real damage.
"Close, good." He knew this boy, his grandson, was already good enough to easily take down a trained soldier. But, Marid wanted him to be better than that, he wanted him to be able to lead an army, to be that man- that general- no one could touch. Even if it took another six years he would see that he became such a man. Marid was easily enough such a figure, but there was something less than mortal about him after his time in Velasia.
Those aquamarine eyes burned with an ambition and desire that was untouchable, but they lacked anything resembling anger or hatred anymore. He had conquered those parts of himself. In return he had became a more deadly figure, he wanted to teach this one exactly what had taken him a life time to learn.
"Jericho, focus on me." Youth was strong and capable, but he had noticed the young man's abilities were faultering, but they had been here in the training hall for nearly five hours now. "You have done good today, but I expect more tomorrow." Tomorrow? He almost groaned at Marid's words. "Because I expect you to catch more fish than I do." It was then that Jericho blinked for a moment and then gave a careful laugh.
"Clean up and go look after your Grandmother." He said with an official tone before slipping away to take care of himself. Clean up and bathe before heading back to the Dragon Throne where the others were bound to be waiting for him. The change from teacher to Duke and Patriarch took only an half-hour and he was walking again. Some would say Marid had calmed down with age, no longer did he seek to claim the beds of beautiful and powerful women. No longer did he seek bloodshed just for sake of it, just for the thrill of danger.
But something too had died within Marid. He had for so long watched his friends rise and fall, whether from a blade or old age. Even his own children had slowly faded with the course of time. He was in a word, lonely. But lonely was not the only thing about him, for the first time in nearly a century he was afraid. Afraid to let anyone close to him. Even his relationship with Jericho, a half-elf, was kept distant and official. The boy cared for Marid deeply, but was still kept at arm's length.
Only Alasia, an elven woman of the forest, truly knew Marid anymore. Mysteek, Indoril, Gaia Blackwolf, none of them knew the man they saw- not truly. None of them knew the inner-workings, the cogs that turned inside of his brain and how he thought. Still those three were the only ones apart from her he could honestly call friends- but he knew that they too would eventually fade away.
Speaking of them, he saw all three as he walked into the war room, where a table with maps strewn about was the center of attention. All three turned to greet him when he entered, "Good evening." He said softly. Time was of the essence, yet there was a tugging deep in Marid's stomach that told him they should wait, hold off just a little bit longer.
"Soliath is here," he said suddenly, stopping in front of the map and pointing. A light appeared before it, "if what Jonathan said was true, they will use tunnels to travel into the city here." Another light appeared on the map, "we will be ready for it." There was a dark, almost cruel smile that appeared. He had something sinister in mind for those would attempt to use those tunnels to infiltrated the city.
He turned his back and walked toward the door before any of them got a chance to speak. "I'll leave the other details up to you. I have to travel to Terrasein and have a talk with Rane and her company." With those words he disappeared out of the door and with purpose headed directly out of the building. He would leave in the morning and had many preparations to make.
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« Last Edit: Dec 27, 2009, 10:40 AM by Marid Al Zalsphere »
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Marid Al Zalsphere
Sentinel
Well-versed
Offline
Posts: 1813
Lord of Blades
|
He stared into the body length mirror and took himself in. The Isparian looked a solid twenty-five, not a day older. But he felt oh so much older at that exact moment in time. Was his will to live wavering? No, that was not it. Not at all as he turned around and stared at the beautiful creature asleep in his bed. She had wanted things Marid did not want to give, but he had not denied the company at the same time.
He turned to look at himself again, taking in every chiseled inch of his form. Solid as rock and formed by a harsh regiment that he imposed upon himself. It was during those times that Marid felt young again, because he had Jericho running them with him. The chase against youth seemed to restore it in the Isparian.
Leaving behind the mirror he walked to his side of the bed and pulled back the covers before sliding in. He took in a deep breath, rolled onto his side to get comfortable and let a hand slide out and go over her hip, stopping upon the lilthe form after a moment longer. She was an assassin, which meant she was in phenomenal shape and in his younger years Marid would have been thrilled at such company. But now he simply wanted to feel someone across from him in bed, that security it offered.
At his touch she rolled over and faced him, "Marid," whispering off her lips before she snuggled into his chest. Sleep would take them both within a few minutes, but Marid's sleep would be fitful as he battled back the memories of the past, his time in Velasia and his life back then. But something woke him suddenly, a change in the air, a new smell. His eyes, crafted for darkness, saw through the shadows in black and white. He spotted the reason why, a Morquendi.
While this foe may have been a trained assassin, he held little on Marid who disappeared from his bed and stalked the would be killer. As he slid up on the bed and noticed Marid missing he turned a full circle, or would have had a fist not welcomed him at the mid-point. It layed him out easily upon the bed, startling awake Marid's company, but the Isparian paid her no mind as he grabbed a leg and yanked the Morquendi back down so he could lift him up by the throat.
"You picked the wrong man..." He said softly in the Dark Elf's native tongue. A dart then struck Marid in the shoulder and he looked over it to see another with a blow gun. When he just smiled and snapped the first one's neck before turning on this new adversary the creature's eyes went wide.
"You got to be kidding me," it muttered in the common tongue. It was then that he noticed Marid coming for him and the assassin dropped out of the window seal landing with a tumble on the ground below. His partner's corpse was not far behind. Marid then dislodged the dart and slammed it home into the wall.
His fingertips felt a little numb from the paralysis poison used on the dart, but it wasn't a bad enough affect to make him go find a doctor, they were rarely that bad as he laid back down and fell back into a more peaceful slumber, leaving the corpse at his feet. They- being the guard- could take care of the body in the morning.
That next day he would appeal to the council of shadows, talk to them about his plans for Nova Q, but he didn't know how it would go. If he had his way then it would involve their executioner and several others inviting these 'minions' to their doom in a matter of weeks.
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Marid Al Zalsphere
Sentinel
Well-versed
Offline
Posts: 1813
Lord of Blades
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It had not been easy, but the Isparian had convinced them to unleash their Executioner upon the Morquendi and the followers of Lomion in Soliath. It had been a battle of words, but Marid was quite skilled with them as well by now. His son, now an old man, had finally caved in to those demands and requests, but it had came at a price. A price that he would pay if it meant reclaiming Soliath from the enemy. He tried to not think on what he had agreed to as he looked at Jericho and watched the young man pull in another fish. Marid hadn't been trying, his heart just wasn't in it and the boy could see as much in his grandfather's eyes. Still it did not stop him from enjoying himself, or talking when he felt like it as he'd been given leave to do so.
Finally, he just sighed and sank down some in the boat as he closed his eyes and then visions flooded his mind, a replay of the past- of a time when he was happy, a time when he was also very stupid, part of it made him smile- but it was quickly washed away by a sneer. A hand wiped over his face to wash away those visions as he came back into reality. That had been a happy period, but he had been so stupid on so many levels. If he had it to do over, he wasn't sure he would suffer through it again, but it had made him the man he is today.
He had many regrets in his long life, many should haves, could haves, and didn't dos. But all that was water under the bridge as his mind came back to the present to realize Jericho had rowed them back to shore. "You seem distracted today," he heard the boy say. "We'll try again another day." He didn't seem disappointed, but it made him frown as the young half-elf walked away. Why did it always seem he was -trying again- in life as of late? He shook his head and slipped from the boat.
There was a familiar fire burning in his stomach as he stood there, it was a boiling rage he had been keeping in check for a long time now. Killing wasn't him anymore, he had to remind himself, as he started walking back toward the home he had taken up at in Terrasein. He wouldn't make it though as he felt a ping of self-doubt slip into his mind for a moment, one man could not change the world - whether they were human, elf, Isparian or even part God. He visibly shook himself and forced such things away.
It was then that he looked around him and saw how much this place had changed, how it had been absorbed by the Black Lotus and changed into what it was now. All of that had came at the orders of ONE man. But the action itself had been committed by many, far more than Marid cared to count. It was then he came back to the simple point of ONE with power over MANY can do something. It was a fact of life and a reality that he had accepted a long time ago. He smirked then and knew exactly what he was going to do very soon as he started walking again and found his home.
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