Post/Author/DateTime	Post
preacher of nothing 11-21-03, 09:07 AM	The sky was as dark as always during this time of the year. The city of … was completely gray. Only a few shines from the rich estates of the mayor and other nobility. In the slums, things were as always…the small houses, made of the poorest quality bricks that nearly fell because of the wind lay dormant, some light seen from time to time at a window or so. The rain came pouring down on the houses. Those few fortunate enough to have firewood placed it quickly in the fireplaces and let the warmth find their cold bones as the smoke rose from the chimneys into the night sky. Not many sounds were heard from the street, the normal day to day fuss being replaced by the punishing sound of rain. From time to time the sound of horses or a carriage would be heard. The two men stood underneath a tall archway, protected from the rain. One of them took the pipe from his mouth and held it in the hand long enough to look to the other and speak “No guards huh?” A few moments later a woman passed by them. Dressed in rags, running towards her house, the two raised eyebrows as they saw her. The second man spoke “If you were a guard and you would choose between a tavern and this place….what would you choose? Come on…no more stupid questions…we need to find him.” They stepped forward and into the rain. The man with the pipe shrugged a bit, setting the cloak around his shoulders a bit higher up. Half an hour later they reached the destination. One of the small and weak houses. A dim light came from inside, and they knew it was candlelight. The man with the pipe spoke once again “Saving the wood….You can tell he’s from around here” The other man looked to him and spoke bluntly “You would be surprised….so you’re sure this is the place….right?” The answer came with a nod “I pay good money for information. I should know” “Alright then” Reaching a hand inside the cloak, the second man drew a small bag. The sound of the never ending rain blanketed the chime of the gold coins inside the bag. The man with the pipe took the bag and threw it in the air, catching it and smiling. A few moments later the bag was placed inside the loose pants. He grinned to the second man and answered the unspoken question “What? Around these parts it would be best to swallow it….these damned jackals can smell gold from a distance….” “Then we are done…no more need for your assistance.” The man with the pipe nodded and turned. After a few steps he turned back to face the other “One thing…if this ends in blood….and you’re caught, my name isn’t to be mentioned alright?” The second man nodded in return “Understood” As the sound of the man’s steps left his ears, he looked to the house once more and breathed in, as he moved the hat a bit and took a few hesitant steps towards the house.
preacher of nothing 11-22-03, 05:24 AM	The rain kept pouring as the man pushed the door open. The few candles standing on the table in the corner seemed to want to hide from the wind that entered the hut. His eyes scanned the inside of the house but much to his surprise it was empty. No one inside, only a dirty bed, with a piece of rag instead of a blanket rolled up on it, the table, a chair next to the table and a do it yourself bookcase in another corner of the room. His eyes narrowed and the room became a flurry of vivid lights. The tiny candlelight looked blue to his eyes now, and remnants of where heat once was were a dim orange. On the bed, a few red spot lay and he knew that whoever lived there had just left. He closed the door and silently walked over to the table. A few scrolls in a language he did not know lay there. He looked at them but didn’t try to read them. He knew the effects of such an action. Never read something you’ve just found and don’t understand…that’s what he was taught in his earlier years, and it proved to be good advice. Turning his head his eyes met the bookshelf. He walked over to it and kneeled by it. His eyes narrowed once more, he noticed trails of heat on one of the books and drew it out. As he opened it a surge of electricity left the book and entered his body. His entire being ached with pain and he screamed. A wave of pain filled his eyes and head. His mind melted, the thoughts lost to the pain, as his blood boiled. He fell motionless to the ground, an arm twitching from time to time because of the electricity. His eyelids closed out of instinct and he was lost to the darkness of his aching mind.
preacher of nothing 12-26-03, 05:41 PM	"There is a legend that few tell of a race known as the Vashar. Intelligent beings do not speak of the legend not only because of the darkness involved but also because of the shame. When the Gods set out to create humanity, they formed the first man and gave him life. According to the legend of the Vashar, the first man immediately began hunting in the wilderness while the gods watched their new creation with curiousity. The man found an animal and killed it with his bare hands. The gods were surprised by the brutality, but they continued to watch. The man ate the animal's flesh and tore away at its guts until he found some large bones. It lashed these bones together with tendons and sinew, demonstrating a cleverness that further surprised the deities. Then the man broke one of the bones so that it had a sharp point, creating a weapon. He immediately turned upon his creators and attempted to kill them, snarling his first words - curses and death-oaths. The deities were in no danger, of course, but they were disgusted by what they had wrought. They destroyed the man and left. They would return in later eons to create humanity, learning from the mistakes made in their first attempt. After they left, a demon gathered the remains of the first man and spirited them away to a hidden location - an impossibly high plateau accessible only through a series of underground catacombs filled with foul corruptions of nature. There, the demon resurrected the man and created a woman. The demon bestowed upon them the ability to procreate, then disappeared back to the Abyss with an evil grin. This it is said, is the origin of the Vasharan people. " The words banged in his mind like hammers on a smith's anvil. He slowly opened his eyes, looking around the quiet and dark room. The flurry of lights and colors dazed him for a minute. He felt the instinctual need to rub at his eyes, but he couldn't. It was as if all the blood from his arms had left him, as if he had no strength. A few moments later he was to find that his arms were tied tightly against one of the walls. Trying to open the eyes a moment later he could just barely note a person sitting in the chair from the table. The person shut the book he was reading out loud from with a grin on his face....or so it seemed to the dazed one. Best watch and find out some things he thought to himself. The other man finally stood. He looked tall...over 6 feet tall...and well muscled as well. A greay beard with flecks of red adorned his chin and the top of his head held no hair. The bald man approached him, the brown of his clothes now more obvious to his still hurting eyes. He grinned as one of his hands moved to the tied up man's face, squeezing the lower jaw as he looked into his eyes. "So...what do you want with a Vasharan? And what are you doing in my home? How did you find me and what do you want from me? And why do you carry these words with you? Yes, i searched you and found this, as well as other things.....so....who sent you drow?" The drow moved his head back as his senses reached him once more and he regained most of his strength. He now knew he was tied to a wall in the small hut. Some hours had passed but it was still raining outside. Tied up in the shape of a crucifix he looked to his captor and did the most unthinkable thing. He laughed "Untie me and find out. Torture or kill me and don't. I have a deal to offer you and you have nothing to gain by harming me. I know what you are and others do....just untie me Vasharan" The other man stepped back. The grin on his face disappeared. And he turned his back to the drow, moving to the table. A small leather bag lay there. He opened it up and took out a few scalpels of different sizes and shapes, one looking more disgusting than the other. "You know....i can kill you now....then leave....the others you speak off won't know. As for your deal....i don't care....what real profit could interest me?" The grin came back to his wicked face as he approached the drow, one of the scalpels held nicely in one hand. He moved it so close to the drow's neck that the drow swallowed some of his spit, closing his eyes "I see.....then i suppose you do not give a damn about killing that which created you. Yes, i know about your lust for deicide....and no, it's not a trick....let me down and hear me...it is possible"
preacher of nothing 12-27-03, 12:33 PM	The Vasharan held the scalpel so close to the drow's skin it made him shiver. He leaned back a bit as the drow spoke his words and leaned over to open up the shackles that were holding the drow captive. Moving back to the seat by the table he turned to look at the messenger, with a look of boredom on his face. "Talk or die, i don't really care which you choose.....although something makes me wish you won't want to talk. What's all this nonsense?" The drow moved his hands to the wrists, rubbing at them. Soon enough he found out that standing was a bit of a burden....but since there were no other chairs in the room and the bed was dangerously close to the vasharan he decided to lean against the wall. After a few moments of silence he moved a hand inside his jacket, moving from a nicely hidden inner pocket a parchment that looked old enough. He moved slowly and cautiously over to the vasharan, sliding the parchment on the table, then moving back to lean against the wall, starting to regain the strength in his feet. "So what's this supposed to be?" the vasharan asked before moving a hand to hold the parchment in front of his face. The letters seemed old. The color of the ink was red and his first thought was licking it to see if it was blood....but that thought faded away as he began reading and reading. A moment later he stood, looking to the drow "And what makes me so sure that this is true? Why would i want to believe this?" The drow grinned a bit, his eyes bothered by the now lit and apparently stronger candles "Because it's in your nature to believe and because you want to. The simple fact that it's truth is not so important....but still a factor. I require an answer. You have a week to transmit this message to your people since i know your position in your hierarchy.....try to be quick about it" The answer came quickly in the form of a dagger planted a few inches away from the drow's feet. The vasharan grinned and lifted a book to the air, tossing it to the drow. He in turn suddenly moved aside, letting the book hit the wall, recognizing it immediately as the book that had sent him into pain and darkness. The vasharan spoke in the grunting strong voice that was so stereotypical to his kind. "You demand nothing for you are not in the position to do so. I will let you know of my decision and that of those that choose to listen to me. Now leave my home and try not to return too soon"
preacher of nothing 12-27-03, 12:40 PM	The drow left the room and therefore the small hut without saying another word. It was simply not his place to comment. Not now anyway. He slowly moved a hand inside the black jacket, taking it out. A shining ruby lay in his hand, a burning eternal fire seeming to live inside the jewel. He grinned a bit as he looked at the gem, then sighed, placing it in one of his pockets. The rain kept pouring down, and he looked to the dark sky. It had been a few hours since he first entered the alley, and yet morning seemed so far away. Placing his hands against the collar of the long cloak he shrugged a bit, getting used to the cold raindrops again. With a determinate look on his face he narrowed his eyes. And the darkness around him once more became a flurry of lights, colors and shades. The night's darkness revealed itself to him as he walked into one of the alleyways.