All We Know --- &RPaward

[Bastige]

Ely edit 28 Jul 2021:

This had already been awarded. Now recorded properly for RP ranks.


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The hair stood up on the nape of the warrior’s backs as they huddled behind the cloaked figure who searched for something in the tree. The scenery rippled in front of them before splitting open into an abyss, the smell rushing out of the portal that had appeared in the night air was indescribable. The beasts marveled at something super natural about the way cold air flowed out of the portal and collided with the warm night air before the figure turned abruptly on the group of metal clad axe bearers and hissed orders, snapping them out of their curiosity and refocusing attention on the task at hand. Heat lightning flitted across the Blight and lit up the face of the cloaked figure. The man had no eyes, yet seemed to be darker than the night itself. They all listened and followed him into the door, of vines.

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Badly damaged spans looked like bridges falling down, as if they were aging before their eyes. The gray stone masonry falling into what seemed a forever pool of darkness. Perhaps built by ogiers, or the Dark one himself, these ancient bits of architecture were not safe for those not versed in walking the paths. Parts of the bridges seemed to crumble in their presence and fall off into the abyss but, you never heard them reach where they fell to. The air rushed around the cavernous area followed by whispers, something he had never heard before. There were rumors that bad things lurked inside of the ways, rumors of spirits and things you couldn't wash off, things that made you crazy in the head long after you’ve left. There seemed to always be the familiar smell of death in just about any business they did, so that was the only familiar smell although there were different kinds. An island appeared at the end of their bridge, a grave of some sort or headstone in the middle greeting all that came. The smell of a wolf was present on the stone floors. The cloaked figure studied the marker before peeling off into the dark once again and they all followed.

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The smell. It was nearby. They all knew it before the Myrddraal did, smelling it long before they could see it. They were close. The Myrddral picked up the pace as they headed north. One of the beasts fell in the back, knocking over another. Snarling at one another and cursing among themselves in their own language the beasts normally would have started a brawl for the other's idiocy but, they were exhausted. They had been on trail for what seemed like the longest evening in time, and they were close yet still a ways to go. The Myrddraal turned his gaze on the two laying on the floor and hissed warnings, which resulted in less cursing and more whimpering now. Muttering to himself he grabbed both of the groveling animals who had tumbled to the floor and yanked them to their feet, clearly disgusted with them. Long black tendrils seeped out of the cloaked figure and across the group, wracking their bodies with pain. It felt like bones were being crushed at first but, then the legs felt like they had been rested, how strange and refreshing. They stormed on towards the village in the distance, ignoring the inclines of the Andoran hillside.

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A yellow eyed man sliced a knife-bladed axe at him, clanging off of his armor. The warrior swung wildly at the man who seemed incredibly deft for someone as tall as the Myrddraal but human. He had seen humans in combat before, and they were rarely this fast nor dangerous in one on one combat. The cold feeling of iron tearing into one's own flesh, only blunted by pure adrenaline and the pinching of nerves came rushing over the warrior as the yellow eyed man eventually cleaved his arm through a weak spot in the bone vambraces. Snarling, the warrior became filled with rage. The howl of wolves interrupted his concentration and he was sent sprawling into the forested floor by a well-placed bash to the breastplate. The yellow eyed man seemed to appear on top of him in an instant, swinging at his armored body with a sharp knife of bone wrapped in leather, seeking another entry point for his blade. The howling was louder now. Grabbing the humans head the warrior head butted him with all his might which sent the man back pedaling for the first time..

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The Myrddraal stood over the corpse, admiring the dying man laying before him. His yellow eyes stared up at the dark figure and the snarling trollocs that stood over his rapidly depleting body, the last thing he would ever see. Once a fabled champion of the light, the man of the woods would spend his dying moments staring into the would be eyes of the Myrddraal and the warriors that removed him from the wheel of time. As the light flickered from his eyes, the man attempted to whisper something in human. Although the trollocs didn’t speak common tongue of the humans, it appeared to be some sort of.. insult. The Myrddraal cocked his head askance, his curiosity peeked at whatever was said before pulling the broken body from the ground by the medallion shaped like a fox around the yellow eyed man’s neck and close to the Myrddraal’s face, hissing something of his own in reply..

“The foxhead is mine, you have failed them..”

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The black hills bloomed early this year, the fields aligned in waves of purple and white flowers everywhere. Herbs growing up next to other foliage melds into large swaying plains, hill top after hill top. Large mature pines meet the sprawling plains marking an end to the what seemed like endless carpets of grass giving way to a small but, dense copse of trees near a sallow wood to the northeast. Reaching the woodline the Myrddraal swirled around atop the shadow stallion who seemed increasingly agitated seemingly out of nowhere. The Myrddraal scolded the horse before hissing orders to break camp and the warriors began tearing at the trees for lumber while the others foraged for a meal to roast over a would be pit. An arrow sang through the air, fired just from behind the woodline landing neatly into the shoulder of the Myrddraal who let out a terrible sound. Drawing the gleaming blacksword from the depths of an inky black cloak the Myrddraal turned and gravitated towards the woodline and his human attacker. A horn was blown by one of the trollocs, calling for the others who had wandered off in search of a feast as ordered by their commander and they appeared like angry bees, swarming the tree line. What was unknown however, was there was not just a lone archer, there was a group lying in wait.

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A ball of light lit up the dimly lit copse, an almost blinding light and a figure emerged as if holding the light like a lantern. An armored man leading a group of other men appeared from behind her and ran headlong into the fight against the trollocs just as they had entered the edge of the woods. Lashes of fire streaked out from her hands, burning through the cloak of the Ghar’gael and blistering flesh underneath metal armor like an oven. The Myrddraal stormed through the middle of the battle towards a preoccupied woman with a bright green shawl and lunged, stopping short by a large force that appeared in front of her. The cloak shifted colors and seemed to melt into the background as the warder moved with extreme speed and grace, stepping in front of the slashing gleaming blacksword and eating the blow in lieu of his bonded companion. A ball of fire erupted from the woman behind the warder almost simultaneously and it seemingly engulfed the Myrddraal who screeched in agony and writhed on the ground convulsing from the flames. Hissing orders the Myddraal clambered to his feet and ordered the tribe to fall back. Arrows and hooves followed them out of the forest and there were less of them running towards the hills than when they had started, much less.

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Heavy breathing. Very Heavy breathing, but getting shallower. So much red. Something bad had happened, but how bad was not known. Anger still coursed in the veins, probably making matters worse. Adrenaline, enough to wake up the dead several time over. The ground shook beneath him as he tried to turn over, the weight of the metal on his body hindering his movement. Weightless in combat, yet he felt like he was drowning as he lay helpless on the winter rye grass, a small stream of red beneath him. Whimpering in the darkness he gathered his last bit of strength and began to crawl towards a patch of thick brush and bushes. Climbing deep into the foliage he covered his body as best as he could and laid back awaiting his Myrddraal to come find him in his moment of weakness. They smelled of stinkweed, The sound of hooves were closer now..

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The warrior closed his eyes for a minute, despite the sound of a horse drawing closer to the bushes. The horseman dismounted and stared at the ground, then following the trail of blood towards the bushes where the dying trolloc lay helplessly in wait. The warrior was in no shape to fight and prepared to travel to the circle of darkness as the bushes were pulled back revealing his position! The Myrddraal appeared before him and snatched the warrior up, almost as if dragging a protesting child and started dragging the warrior towards the cave. The old trolloc smiled between whimpers, and clutched tight to the midnight robes of his savior as he bled profusely. The Myrddraal had come back for the trolloc despite losing many and suffering severe burns with his encounter with the bonded pair in the woods. Making their way into the dark cave the Myrddraal reached out, and shadows began to envelope the two of them. The sound of more horses could be heard at the cave entrance, and torch lights danced off the walls around the corner, yelling in human tongue, and the clanging of metal armor exploding into the cavernous room. Just as the men turned the corner and shouted at their location, the Myrddraal and the injured warrior disappeared into a thousand shadows.. somewhere far away and safe.. for now.

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“The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again.” “Almost dead yesterday, maybe dead tomorrow, but alive, gloriously alive, today.”

[Zatuchly]

HOWL

[Elysia]

This was a fun RP story and it's nice to see a DS perspective. Honorable mention for the March LOTM competition, with a small reward.