View Full Version : {Shadowborn} Prelude

07-15-2012, 07:28 AM
….”take her back Jonathan, take her to safety” shouted the iron clad warrior unsheathing his great sword from its holder. The sweat from the mid-spring draught had caught up to him and his neck was already stifling under the heavy burden of failure that was encroaching all over him this afternoon. The dried mud on his feet and the whaling sounds of barking hounds nearing him made him feel stressed, now maybe at his final moments he can hear his instructors voice for discipline and readiness once again in his head but this time he cannot control it. Sweaty and surely frustrated his eyeballs are about to burst and his forehead is ready to explode, Talbot turns his gaze away from the screaming heir of Mhoried and her so unlikely savior only in order to meet the two men that cruelty and hesitation was never a hard choice. While the sounds of hooves reach his ears and the thought of her safety fill his heart without a second thought he turns his sword towards his opponents. Soldiers were already closing in and great hounds were frantically trying to break free of their holders ready to rip his flesh apart. Then with no word of warning he yanks forth towards them, his emotions were peaking while his heart was beating faster than a Coeryan stallion and it was all these feelings altogether that made him jump, in uneven odds.
This dream was haunting him again and again in this land of freezing cold and death. Sleep was more valuable than food and water in this land but he did not have the luxury to afford it. …”fifthday of the third week…… ” Talbot spelled with the track of time being the only way to keep his sanity in dark of the Arborea. With a hollow mind lost in the sea of hopelessness, confusion and despair he rose from his gravely campsite out of the muddy and wet ground, the once great oak tree that hung above him hand long ago lost its leaves and life as it seems and was hanging like a statue of a reminder of grandeur, how ironic he thought, again and again. Dark clouds were hovering over him so low that he felt he could touch them and the moisture of the air was giving him the feeling that rain will soon come but to no avail. It never rained. Shambling on with his sword in back and a piece of wood on his hand he crawled out of the worm hall he called camp. He had forfeited food and water for quite a while now and he preferred even to look over the fact that he could no longer feel pain, he knew this was his eternal punishment but at least he would not falter now. His flesh was torn and at some points he could see through to the bones but he ignored his wounds, he knew they were superficial, he knew he survived worst.
The dark sky was stretching over him and dark looming shadows were flying past his head like shadows ripped away from light, the dark was absolute and the smell of death surrounded him from all sides, shambling humans or remnants of them were walking aimlessly around him in this weird land, while at first he felt compelled to destroy them now he just ignored them pushing his way past them, he was one of them. Time had lost its meaning, seasons were nonexistent and life was absent from this land. He finally found what he wanted to fight against but as ironic it may sound while finding it he lost all will to fight. By day he wandered the grey wastes of this land aimlessly and by night he made his way back to his worm hall to rest his weary out of wounds body under the huge lifeless oaken tree. Day by day went by and night by night closed in, time did not advance; it was as if the movement of the this dark sun himself had stilled, and all the woodland was silent, as if even the birds and beasts held their breath, an eternity of darkness, an eternity of torture and punishment. With his only anchor to reality his sword and will, Talbot awaited; what for, was unknown.

...... he came to an area where water rose from the ground and weeds and fronds waved in the wind. The trees and brush grew thickest here, branches twining and twisting, forming an almost impenetrable backdrop to a round, lake-like pool formed of black pitch water. Tendrils of fog hovered over the seed-speckled surface. Talbot knelt on the shore of the pool, breathing heavily, eyes scanning the waters and the dark foliage beyond. He stood motionless. The dark lake, filled with mystery, the waters of Life and Death…
“Talbot…” called a voice. His gaze intent on the waters, the mist was rising more strongly from the surface now, coiling up into vast ghost-shapes that streamed out upon the wind. He could smell the magic in it, the seeming of Arborea. Time held still. There was an eerie tinkling, clattering sound, and the mists began to part. Out onto the lake glided a raft, poled by a stately woman. At first glance she seemed almost a creature on the Un-world herself, maybe even a spirit of this dead place. Braids stiffened with lime tumbled to her hips; blue faience beads danced along their length. She wore a long, green skirt of twisted thongs interspersed with what seemed to be dried leaves, and all down the front of her deer-skin bodice were sewn hundreds of tiny shells and quartzes, swinging and clashing and making merry noise as she moved. Her head was bowed so that her face was hidden, but her exposed hands and throat were daubed with paint, which gave her a faintly surreal glitter as a thin sunlight wandered over her.
“Talbot…” Her voice rang out over the pool, a voice of wind and rushing water. “The time to claim your freedom has come and I, I am here to guide you.”

07-15-2012, 07:51 AM
It is very important to keep in record that all of the stories or extracts or short notes posted here concern played characters in various groups of our campaigns, this is what makes these stories unique to us and very important to players and DMs alike.