The Flame's Last Joyous Dance ((closed RP, rawr rawr))

[LordDestructo]

(("Everybody is special. Everybody. Everybody is a Hero, a Lover, a Fool, a Villain. Everybody. Everybody has their story to tell....I should very much like to hear [your] story." -- V ))

The night was still on the Loch. Not very much moved, the Crocolisks having hidden themselves away in order to lose as little warmth as possible, the birds long since having gone to sleep. Even the dark shape crouched in the middle of that lonely island was still, save for the occasionally puff of chilled air that came from his mouth or nostrils every handful of seconds.

From the outside, he looked like some sort of hulking death warrant, ready to extrerminate the closest onlooker. In reality, he was simply meditating. Focusing inward, bathing in the presence, or rather the lack of presence, of the void that existed inside him.

Soft footsteps approached him, he barely noticed them until it was almost too late. Fortunately for him, the arrival was not intent on his head. It was this head that he lifted, and exhaled deeply, the air, chilled by his malice, his hate, and the Lich essence that had been stuck in him, looked very close to snow.

"So....you've come."

He stood, and a sick grin twisted across his face.

"What brought you here, then? Rumors of a one-eyed killer, mayha--"

The woman, who had been giving him a steely glare, walked right at him, and planted a full-armed slap across his jaw. Brardith Voidbringer's grin simply became more snarled, entangling itself further across his jawline.

"You wrote me all of those letters...you had me thinking you were dead!"

Disdain slowly crept into his one blue eye, and he gave a frigid sniff.

"You seem to be under the impression that you speak to Brardith McBrardy, the Paladin fool. He's no longer here. You speak with Brardith Voidbringer. I have waited long for this day. It ends here.

Rhowen's slight anger melted away behind a layer of steel, all attempts at emotion brushed aside.

"Is that what they call you now? Aspiring Death Knight, eh? They could've given you a better name."

He simply continued grinning and spread his hands in a gesture of fake supplication. “Well, what else can I call myself when the previous host kills himself, and I must set up shop in an emptied heart?”

A small flicker glimmered beneath the flowing mask of apathy. “Killed?”

The Voidbringer sighed deeply, irritated at her lack of understanding. “Yes, killed. He took this sword, and shoved it into his chest, straight through the heart, until it caught on one of his back ribs. Sadly, with all the gifts Krastinov had imparted to him, the only thing it accomplished was allowing me to dominate what was left of his mind. Scourge don’t really NEED such silly things as hearts. Especially not me.” He indicated the massive sword on his back, then ended by rubbing his chest.

“If you’d really like to see, I do believe the wound’s still there. I tried to heal it, but it is just as arrogant as this body’s previous owner.”

The woman stood there and blinked a few times, seemingly caught between anger and something else. The Voidbringer watched, and became more agitated.

“Come now, you ruin my monologue with your misunderstandings. Brardith McBrardy killed himself. He told you something was wrong. You knew just what Krastinov had done. You did everything you could for him, except stood by his side.” The Voidbringer had a good chuckle at this. “You were the last feeble hope he had. The only thing between me and the domination of his mind. Why do you think he was always around so much, those last days? You were what held him there. But every step of the way, he faced rejection after rejection. You thought you could….TRADE for the cure.” He punctuated this with a deep laugh. “You should know by now…Krastinov makes no cures!”

Rhowen did not flinch, there was only a slight tightening of a muscle in her face, and a short twitch of the hands, a quick breath. The Voidbringer raised a hand, and she tensed.

“I’m not done. We will end this soon, but first, I must make sure I fully impart to you just what you have done, and just how great your failure is.” The grin became more sharklike, he was going for the kill. “Here’s the best laugh of all. He wrote you those letters. He pined, he mused, he even wrote you a song. The only person who’s heard his song in ten years has been himself, and the empty air, and the trees, and in his last hours, he sat here, and wrote and sang a song for you. Then he ran himself through the heart. Why? I remember it well, because I laughed over it, just as I do now. He was trying to protect you. He said to his accursed Light, ‘There’s someone dear to me that I must keep safe, so I hope you’ll understand if I break the teachings this once…because if I’m alive, I fear I’ll kill her.’”

Brardith paused to take a chilly breath. Savoring the invisible smell of the blood he was drawing.

“All for naught. The man was stupid, foolish, and far too loyal, even to the end, he died for someone who would never love him.”

At this her hands went to the dual swords strapped about her waist.

“So, you wish to fight? Continue that never-ending cycle that you have created so long ago? You cannot survive the pain, so you destroy others to keep it at bay. You will yourself to be alone, you alienate yourself in your words and your actions, and yet you so badly need to be near others…only to destroy them, just like someone destroyed you so long ago…”

A hand raised, and looked as though it were stroking the vision of the woman in front of him. Then it clenched.

“Just as well. You are in the way. So long as you exist, my Void falters. Though he’s dead…his spirit remains, and with each beat of your heart, he hopes you’ll rescue him. He still holds onto that hope, the fool. So I’ll crush it, here and now.”

“Brardith is far too strong to be held down by the likes of you.”

Her first words in what must’ve been a long time, they were just as cold as the mist coming from his nostrils. He removed his hand from his sword, and held a hand to his head, laughing.

“Don’t encourage him! He’s better off this way. Think of it…he’d return to this world, and he would only hope more. He’d keep on being righteous, and pure, and just, and this dark world would just find another way to break him. It’s not like I was born from nothing. I am all of the hate that he never used. I am all of the loneliness that he squashed, I am all of his pain, I was born from all the grudges he never held. Unlike him, I will do what this world truly turns on. I will act. I will do to my former fellows as they did to me, with impunity. I will crush them with this strength they all feared. And I will begin with you. You were the only person he believed in, you know? He never once resented your shunning him. I, however, do. It is because of you that I had to work so hard to get control in the first place, and it is because of you that I am hindered as I am right now, fighting the ghost of my previous righteous self. So I will begin my Retribution here. With you.” He sneered at the word, and drew his gargantuan blade.

“I am Araj’s Calculation, Krastinov’s Precision, and Balnazzar’s Malice. Come, woman, meet your death at the hands of the one who loved you the most, and never got a single thing from your own hands. Come, you broken tool of revenge and hate. Come, failure. Come, fool. Come!”

The woman simply shifted her feet a bit, and he recognized it instantly, shortly before she leaped at him. Battle Stance. She crashed into him in a flurry of speed, and flipped over his head, her strikes clanging off of a hastily raised sword. As he tightened his hands for a swing, she danced yet again, gracefully widening her stance and raising her swords…Defensive. His sword arced into hers, and blew her backwards with its force. She neatly flipped over and landed on her feet, just like the cats she rode, he sneered. She uttered a shout he’d heard so many times, as he’d healed her and watched her fight so many fights, and he knew what was coming. The rest was just a blur, an intricate dance he’d seen her dance so many times. Cut, cut, pivot, step, cut, pivot, cut. It went on and on. Any other target by now would be missing crucial muscles, major arteries slit, their lifeblood pooling around them, unable to so much as do a single thing to stop it. The dance was approaching its climax…stab, cut, pivot, cut, cut, step, stab, step, thrust…there! As she made the last step where she would do her final move, that evaded defense and mortally wounded the target, his sword impacted hers before she could begin the swing, and his open hand chopped into her throat. She choked and grasped at her throat, but he was already picking her up, one hand holding her aloft, tightening slowly on her windpipe.

“Tisk, Tisk. You disappoint. I would’ve thought this would’ve gone on a little longer. But I will show respect for the woman he admired so much. I’ll kill you quickly. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy a little---”

He broke off and canted his head a bit.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ve got someone bugging me, so I’ll finish gloating over your pathetic fighting later. But don’t get any ideas. I can still kill you, and my eye’s watching you.”

He tapped the patch covering his eye socket, and Rhowen looked puzzled, underneath the pain of having a cold gauntleted fist crushing her throat. He simply snorted and concentrated a bit, muttering slightly.

After a few minutes, his eye came back into focus, and he turned towards her.

“A…friend of mine has presented a very good point to me, and has put in a bid that you stay alive for a bit longer, possibly indefinitely, if his hypothesis proves correct. This means you and me, we’re going to take a little trip. I suggest you enjoy the next six seconds, because they will be the last time you see anything pleasant for a while. If you must, think of it as the haven of the last man to love you.”

He began laughing shortly, and anger entered into her eyes once more, flames seemingly about to shoot right out of them. She began kicking at him, her teeth baring, her arms flailing, landing blows on his arms.

“Oh, please. If you’re going to be childish about it, then we’ll do it the easy way.”

His remaining arm sheathed his sword, curled back, and impacted her ribs, putting a huge dent in her plate armor, and stealing the breath from her lungs. She slumped, and the light left her eyes. Now that she was out cold, Brardith reached into his pack and drew several lengths of chain usually used to hold down torture victims. He bound her legs and wrists with these, and slung her over his shoulder, and began the trek back towards the plaguelands.


((Yes, evil Brardith has a penchant for evil Monologues. This was completely planned >.>))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( All characters, named and otherwise, used with permission. ))

The smell of flowers.

This is the mind. This is the world. This is everything.

The sky, the horizon, everything above the ground is white. It is the boundary of experience, of knowledge. It is the wall of memory.

This is a field of flowers, of red and blue and purple and yellow scattered atop the blanket of green. This is perfect stillness; the smell of flowers hangs heavy in the air, stagnant, This is the smell of the passage of time. The scent of fresh earth as the plant breaks through, the fragrant scent of the opening blossoms, the rank stench of the rotten petals melting back into the ground. In the thick air, life begins and ends.

In such a place, the soul will find peace.

This is the exhalation. This is the wind. The wind unfurls like a bolt of silk. It slips between flower petals, a black ribbon between the fine fingers of a lady. It rushes forward. It reaches its long arms forward, it reaches for the sky. It devours the white wall as a creature starved. Beyond the white wall is a sky, brilliant and blue and deep and limitless.

This is change. This is pain.

This is what it is to be alive.

How to measure the time.

All things grow. The sky pushes outwards. The flowers reach in every direction. The roots bend and twist beneath the earth. The ground turns, and sinks, and rises. This is time. This is how we measure time. We are limitless as the sky. We are endless as the breeze, we go on forever.

We measure time in the life and death of other things. Of the trees in the forest. Of the flowers in the earth. In the breath of the cats, the beat of the wings of the owl. These things begin and end. We do not. In such endless space, what is there to do but learn? We become masters of the things that end. We know them better than they will ever know themselves, because they have not the time as we do. We have learned the languages of the flora. They rise to meet our words. The Great Spirits of the Forest bow to our words, and give themselves to us, that we may take their form to defend them better. We take care of them, because they cannot take care of themselves.

But the trees do not speak to me any longer.

Me. The first division. The first individuality that strikes you from the fold. You. The second division. The seperation of us and the other. When such clarification is made, the other stands alone in the field of flowers.

But this is life. This is warmth, and understanding, and somewhere, this is happiness.

At the boundary of current knowledge, at the break of the horizon, there is a wolf. He is white and red and large. He is strong and fast. Kadian. He circles the center of the world, running as fast as he can. Every pass brings the circle wider. Knowledge expands, the world of memory grows. His lungs fill with air, and breathe it back out, creating a new breeze. His paws crush the petals. Always wider. Always running.

This is the panther that is safety. It is lithe and black and deadly. Its fangs are bloody with the life-essence of new ideas. It crushes the throats of the things it catches. It feasts on their broken bodies. The panther chases the wolf. The wolf continues to run, the panther at its heels. Always it has an eye on the thing it loves the best, and that is why the panther will catch it. Already the distance closes. Closer.

The scent of blood.

The wolf is limp, and its throat crunches shut in the strong jaws of the panther. The single yellow eye is full of life. It is full of hate, and pain, and resentment, and a desperate plea. The brittle rattle of a last breath is thunderous.

This is death. How does one who cannot die fathom death?

The panther fails. The wolf's blood runs from its body in a thin rivulet. It stretches outwards and pushes the boundary of the world farther back. The panther feasts on the wolf. The world that smelled of flowers smells like warm meat and coppery blood. It smells of flesh rotting between teeth. It smells of the panther's cruel grin.

The panther's sleek fur is wet with blood, and its body is warm beneath her hands. I-You-She is closing her hands around it, choking the life from it. The black creature continues to grin at Me-You-Her.

In another place, her elbows in the body of a great white cat, it's clouded, blind eyes staring at her. Blood mats his fur, so dark it is nearly black against the pristine white cloak. A scar in the shape of a halfmoon curves around its right eye. Her eyes are stinging with tears as she pulls the entrails from its body. She is taken by rage. She is taken by loneliness and spite and hate.

This is pain.

NO! He is dead, they are both dead! I didn't kill them! They killed him, and the other, he went off to die on his own! They are both dead. And they aren't going to be brought back by some dre~

The neck of the black panther crumples in her hands.

This is revenge, and this is joy. Hate and Joy are born into the World of Silence.

A song is singing in her heart. The selfish righteousness of others has brought an end to the endless, has introducted death to the everlasting. Snow is falling over the field of flowers, small and clean and white. She has not hear the song in a very long time. It is unfamiliar. Her lips begin to move, and she hums.

This dirge. From when he died...

A funeral dirge.

A funeral is a ceremony to put the dead to rest. Why is it not enough that they returned to the place where things began? Why must the dying things find sorrow in the thing most Natural to all things that are born?

As she hums, there is a tremor. It starts deep in the ground beneath her feet. The flowers turn their heads, red and blue and yellow, to find the source of the song. The roots twist and bend.

The last person she loved, the last person to love her, is dying. He is going to kill me. Death is what lies beyond the sky. Death is what lies beyond what is known. He is going to kill me unless I kill him first.

This is fear.

Pain. Fear. Revenge, leading to joy.

This is what it is to be alive.


Rhowen Ryl'anthra opened her eyes.

[Teelia]

((Bravo! Well written))

[LordDestructo]

((PS: This continues the events written in "The Death Warrant" by Me and "Life and Death" by the fabulous Rhowen.))

[LordDestructo]

((the next part takes a little work on our part, so here's a little fun bit while we're cooking!))

She was still asleep. He was trying to meditate. That foolish Lich's ideas were costing him a lot of energy. He didn't undesrtand what she DID to him. She was the greatest threat to his inner peace, not to mention first on his hit list. Out of all the things this life had done, he probably owed his release and his control over this body to her, she was indeed the catalyst. But at the same time...he loathed her. He still longed for her, and it disgusted him. She disgusted him.

I must kill her.

I will kill her!

He was no Lich's lapdog! He was a Death Knight! A commander supreme! Who was HE to be told what to do? As he gritted his teeth and tightened his hands, a complex wave of memories came back to him.

*First Day of Paladin Training*
A young boy arrives, fresh and clean, and ready to save the world. He isn't the tallest, nor the strongest, but he does look the part. His face is handsome and his eyes gleam blue from beneath dark hair. He says nothing, and focuses intently on the teacher. He gets up to go enter the armory, where he would hold his first true weapon as a Squire of the Light, and is pushed aside by the taller, stronger boys. "Out of the way! Future heroes coming through!"

"You pushed me aside, rushing to your death. The Ego has no place on the battlefield. No man becomes a hero by choice. If you already aren't dead, I will show you your folly."

(Is it such a terrible thing to be eager to save the world? To want to feel like you had a hand in your loved ones' salvation?)

*Arathi Basin, the Sixteenth Day of the Battle for the Basin*

A young man, in his early twenties, is pushed out of the doorway into the conflict of the battlefield. A warrior wearing no tabard and bearing no insignias is screaming into his face. He was not the captain of this brigade, either, but simply a soldier in it.

"FOLLOW ME! I KNOW WHERE TO GO! IF WE FOLLOW HIS ORDERS WE'LL BE KILLED!"

"I will simply follow the captain's orders, and I suggest you do the same. Of all the men in the alliance, this man was picked to command us. I say we should follow him." Replied the man, brushing black hair out of the way of his blue eyes, trying to tug it back into his helmet.

The Brigade Captain appeared atop a hill, and pointed his sword towards the Lumber Mill. "Take the mill, the horde gather at the mines, take it while they are away!"

Several minutes later, the company stood victorious on their new holding. "Captain! I'm missing a soldier!" The warrior was gone. The Warrior's squad leader concentrated for a moment, and relayed back. "The Mines! He's gone to the mines!"

The captain shook his head. "Then he is a dead man."

A man in his early twenties stood up from his cover. "But sir, can't we go rescue him?!"

The captain again gave a negative. "Disobeying orders should end in death."

The man raised his hand. "Sir! I volunteer to rescue that man. We need every person we can get in this fight, sir!"

The captain only shook his head. "I see now you're one of those optimists. Go, die for your optimism. I have no room for your mistakes in my company."

Minutes later, the young Paladin came upon the body of the Warrior, torn and bloody, full of arrows. He quickly removed the arrows, and lay both hands on the soldier's body. A golden glow surrounded him, and the power of the Light infused the body of the dead Warrior, and he pulled breath anew. "Why am I alive?!"

"Because I came and rescued you. Come, let's get back to the captain, he'll be glad to see you."

At this moment, arrows whirled out of a patch of bushes near the blackmsith, and took the young man in the side, and he gasped in pain. "Go, go! I'll hold them off!"

The warrior rode off, casting a worried glance back, then digging his heels and riding hard for the mill.

"I awoke days later in the care of a company priest who'd recovered my body. My brigade never even went looking for me. The warrior said that he'd valiantly killed ten men to relay reconnaisance to the Captain, and the Captain promoted him for it. There was no mention of me at all. I died for him, and he got promoted. I got nothing."

(But he will live his life with that lie burning in his breast. I can live my life knowing that I sacrificed my life for a cause greater than my own personal desires.)

*A Cold Night in Felwood*

Green fire flared deep inside the forest of Felwood, as two humans struggled to combat a vicious Infernal. The larger of the two shapes leapt at the creature, trying to distract the infernal from the smaller of the two, and recieved a vicious blow to the face, which split his helmet and thrust him against a tree.

That was when it began. That was when I lost my eye. I couldn't heal it, I had no mana. The wound cauterized before I could do a thing. And then, before it could kill my companion, I ended it. By the time I had recovered enough, I had lost half of my vision forever. Nunarie simply shrugged and smiled. That wench.

(Losing my eye is a small matter. If I had to, I'd fight blind. I'd MAKE it possible. Nothing is more important than life, and the lives of others. Any sacrifice is worth it.)

*The Gilded Rose*

A young man sits on a bed, rubbing his eye and gritting his teeth, and trying not to feel what his heart tells him. A woman stands at his side. In human terms, she was ancient, but yet she still looked just as young as he did. His lips moved, and her face did not change at all. She simply turned, and walked down the stairs, and out the door.

Yes...she walked away from me. From YOU. Everything you said to her, and she gave you the final answer you fool. That woman refused to help you, to save you. The only person she helps is herself.

(She lived for someone else, once. I know it, I can see it in her eyes, sometimes. She's been hurt, and she's lost sight of the path. Who am I to blame her for avoiding the same pain again? Who was I to ask her to take that risk again? She was herself, and my only regret is that my death...wait...my death?)

Alarm bells went off in Voidbringer's head. Awareness?!

(...where am I?)

KILL HER!

The Voidbringer drew his sword and stood poised over the Warrior at his feet, and he thrust the sword downwards, pointed directly for her heart.

(Rhowen?!)

At the last possible moment, the sword inched to the side, and screeched off of her armor to embed itself in the ground.

Inside the Voidbringer's head, a mind linked to his own. Araj. "My lord! Use it now! Now is the time!"

The Voidbringer, now hysterical, battling this old force trying to regain control of its body, tore off his eyepatch, and ripped open the eyelids that had been stitched shut. Inside the black socket, a red eye glared, and the world darkened around the Voidbringer.

The old Brardith, the white light trying to regain control of his body, shrank back from this new and dark power that had been awakened, and the Voidbringer laughed, sensing victory. Drawing on the darkness, he began binding that old bundle of memories in new and darker bonds, trapping him into a far corner of his psyche, a place from which he would face impossible difficulty returning from.

The woman stirred and moaned once, but did not wake.

"My Lord, she will wake soon unless you deliver her quickly. Make haste, so that we can begin the First Phase."

He would have her there in time. Regardless of his loathing, Phase One was something he wouldn't dare miss. He imagined he'd soon be having the time of his life.

[Tillna]

((o.0 Brardith is evil? Why was I not informed or invited? *Smacks BRardtih around* He needs a hug....at least))

[LordDestructo]

((This is not how I wanted my story to end. But due to outside events, this is how my story was forced to end. There is nothing worse than a book where the ending is ruined by others’ hands. The authors of this story express their heartfelt regret, and I personally give an angry angry glare to the people who forced Rhowen out. You shame the Alliance.))

The lights snapped on, and Rhowen shielded her eyes against the bright candlelight. “Awake at last, I see.” Muttered a cold voice, off from her right. The monster. She could no longer group it in the same category as Brardith, the warm soul she had once known. A trifle naïve, and often far too righteous, but still ever so kind. This being was a dark reflection, a being of strength that was once restrained and dedicated to life, now unchained, and bent on death. This mockery made her slightly sick, but she hid that deep inside herself, all that abomination saw was her cool mask, the steel visage forged so many years ago, when tragedy had destroyed her smile forever.

“The lich here has put in a bid for me to spare your life for a little while. I have conveyed my skepticism to him, but he is adamant. I suppose he would be, it worked once.”

Her brow arched, and he gave an almost mirthful chuckle. “Well well, I’ve actually managed to capture your interest, for once. Normally I only get an angry glare, or a tired stare of bored indulgence. I have indeed moved up in the world.” The raised brow lowered once more, and the air between them chilled perceptibly…as if it already wasn’t cold enough, here in Araj’s little lair. “Oh, there we go. Back to status quo. Well, I dared to hope, and got beaten down yet again.” He laughed mockingly, and then quiet down, gesturing to the Lich, who floated forward, and gave an appraising look.

“ Now…down to business. You appear to be at the very least a good fighter, and possessing of an intelligence slightly above par. You are an exquisite battle commander, with much tactical knowledge, very deadly in close quarters, and utterly ruthless in the heat of conflict.” The Lich looked to Brardith for confirmation, and he nodded. “At the same time, my Lord has indicated that you are unapproachable, and often silent. You refuse to speak of your past. You don’t allow others to be close to you, and he believes that this is due to rejection, and past tragedy. You have had a life of suffering, and you have followed the path of the remorseless warrior for as long as he has known you, and according to reports, you have been for several human generations.”

Brardith tapped his foot impatiently as the Lich droned on with simple platitudes and discussions of this and that, analyzing the prowess of the woman, and simply beating around the bush. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he stomped forward one step and broke in. “What he’s is trying to say is, he is giving you a choice. He is offering you the limitless power of the Scourge. He wishes to make you into a Battle Captain of high rank. He is also offering to give you the same…enhancements…that were done to me…though I’m sure Theolen will take some persuading to operate on you. You will be given limitless power…and you will also have the power to get the revenge you seek. The desire that has burned behind your eyes for so very long. I’ve seen it because now, I know that desire, too. You will have the freedom to kill whom you wish in the name of your vendetta, as you lead your soldiers in conquering the world in the name of the Scourge.” The grin he pointed at her was wicked, he was imagining all the blood and fire as he spoke of it.

“Why would I ever accept such an offer? It would only be chains, holding me down. And unlike you, I cannot bear to be chained. I am not so weak as to be held down by the simple promise of power at a price.” She sniffed once and directed a cold smirk at the abomination.

Rage twisted his face into a snarling mask, and he quickly stepped forward and backhanded her. She let out a small cry, her jaw shattered, and the Voidbringer loomed over her. “NEVER call me weak again! I stand here now, with the power to kill you at will. I could kill anyone you knew, I could destroy everything you held dear, and I caused the last man to love you to go insane. It was your weakness that caused him to kill himself, in your name, even! For all the strength in your arms, you would not even lift a finger to save him! You would not listen to reason, and to his words of truth. Your weakness killed him. YOUR weakness.”

His hands quivered, and he looked ready to give her another beating, but then he quieted, and visibly calmed himself. “Lich, give her a potion. She’s of no use with a destroyed jaw.”

Cold hands maneuvered her head upwards, and poured the liquid down her throat. Soon the jaw healed, and as soon as it was, she lunged forward and attempted to bite the Lich’s fingers off. As soon as her teeth made contact with the bone, frost filled her jaw, threatening to freeze her mouth open, and possibly freeze her innards. Surprised by the sudden cold pain, she jerked backwards, and the reflex saved her, though her mouth was immobile for a few minutes. Brardith only laughed, almost rolling on the floor, mocking her situation. When he noticed her pained look, though, he found himself wanting to look away, and something stirred inside of him. The socket holding his red eye, the eye of Balnazzar, twitched.

The Lich sighed, and pulled his hands to his sides. “ There’s nothing to be done, then. I’m not willing to waste such potential, so we’ll have to do it the hard way. Krastinov will just have to deal with it, she’ll be heavily sedated anyays…” He trailed off, muttering to himself, and Brardith frowned, then looked to Rhowen, studying her. Behind his blue eye, she almost thought she saw something looking out at her, then it was gone, and he was grinning a sick grin. “Now you’ll get to feel what the Paladin felt in his last days. Minus the throbbing eye, and the invariable mood shifts. We’re going to use a stronger dose on you. Nothing to do but watch your TRUE dark side slowly manifest and take control, then bend to our will. I imagine it will have many interesting things to say to you…and take great enjoyment in destroying what few things you have dear.” He laughed then, deep and malignantly, obviously enjoying this, maybe sensing the dread that had begun to form inside of her. This was a battle the likes of which she had never thought to prepare for.

Before she could react, or come up with a way to slip the ropes, ice covered her body. She was frozen in place! The same cold hands maneuvered her jaw open, and poured a dark purple liquid into it. Almost immediately her vision began to fade. “Brardith, no! Not like this! Damn you, you bastard, face me!” Her inner self roared and gnashed its teeth in challenge, just waiting to rip into them all, but soon her vision was gone entirely and her chance was lost.

**

Theolen Krastinov wiped his hands. He was perspiring more than usual. But any man would if he had been operating on someone who had been gutting him like a fish only a short while ago. But he was done now.

He walked out and inclined his head in a bow to the Lich in the large room outside his. “She is still alive, and in optimal condition. There was a bit of a reaction to the dose that I gave her, but that’s to be expected. I gave her a lot, because I was told she was exceptionally cold and detached. We shouldn’t be in danger of destroying her mind, but this is just to make sure her psyche is easily subverted.”

The Lich nodded, he was pleased with the end results of the operation. “ And what about the other thing I asked you about?”

Krastinov shook his head once. “There’s no possible way for me to cure that. Giving him any more of what I gave him will simply destroy his brain and make him useless. All of the inner conflicts are things that he must face. If anything, all the implants I gave him, especially that eye, will aid him.”

“ Yes…but he apparently loved this woman dearly in his past life. The only reason we actually have him is because he killed himself in her name…”

“Hmmm. Well, I suggest you have him watched. Not trailed, but examined, when it is possible to do such. Any evidence that he is losing these battles, and we’ll have to come up with some new answers. Perhaps the Darkmaster should be consulted, as well?”

The lich nodded. “ Hmm…yes, I’ll speak to him as well. His talents may be of great help to us, now.” He floated away, lost in thought.

Unbeknownst to the two speakers, the hand on the table twitched once, and the mouth uttered a single word. “Brar…….Brar…..dith….”

**

I can’t get her out of my head!

Brardith paced his room feverishly, holding his head in both hands, not really watching the route that he paced, simply pacing, and pacing, and pacing. Ever since the operation yesterday, he’d been plagued by these memories, these voices, and these sights and sounds he had long forgotten. The worst thing was, the bundle of memories he knew to be the old Brardith weren’t the cause of it. They pulled at the bars now and then, so to speak, but these visions were coming from somewhere else…and they maddened him.

Visions of panthers, and wolves, and blood, and roses. A woman’s face…an elf. Angry, very angry. The feeling of being outcast. Intense loss. An empty heart. A song, long, and deep, sung by voices he didn’t believe could be sung by living tongues. Then that song was gone. Cold steel. Heavy armor. Blood. Rage. More blood. More blood. More blood.

Then a gleam. A warm smile, and a wildflower. The empty heart was being filled again. The warmth of passion during the cold of winter. A gift, bought after much searching, put into hands with long fingers. Anxiety, then relief as the familiar smile was unveiled. Somewhere in between this, more smiles. Hearty laughter, adventure. More blood, but this time, of those who were the enemies of those smiles, blood spilt to keep them alive. Two blue eyes that oozed almost too much kindness. Disgust faded to indulgence, indulgence into grudging respect, respect into what could be called the warmth of friendship.

Then a crowded room. Anxiety hidden deep beneath a mask of smiling steel. A tight red dress. Smiles. Smiles that could be trusted, smiles that held warmth. Laughter, drink, merriment. Two stunning blue eyes had been reduced to one, sitting above a wide smile, and a deep, flourishing bow, instantly conveying nervousness and something more. More anxiety. The solace of liquor, given way into the impenetrable haze of drunkenness. A single blue eye gleaming through the blur, and a warm hand. Companionship and gentle support until the haze lifted. Confused and embarrassed apologies, and a quick escape from the kind blue eye and the smile that understood too much.

Pain once more. An empty void, a hole cut in the side of the heart. A single dead wildflower, crushed beneath a boot heel. Anger. Separation. Betrayal. Revenge. A body that was warm, and fake passion that lasted a single night. The only slightly sweet taste of revenge by betrayal. Yet again the blue eye returned. Troubled. Hurt. Anger! Who would dare cause harm to this kind blue eye?! Silence the wide smile that said things so many didn’t care enough to say! Protest. The blue eye pleads. Indignation. Incredulity. Righteousness, what a foolish idea.

The feeling of time. A large empty space. Anger. Blood. Solitude. Loneliness. More blood. More blood. Then a cold, stone place. A body on a table. A blue eye. Warm words spoken to disbelieving ears. Detachment. Desire. A price. There is always a price. This price cannot…will not be paid. The blue eye asks too much, and what is asked cannot be given, no matter how desirable the offer seems. An escape down wooden stairs, leaving that constricting room and its blue eye behind forever.

The kind blue eye has become a cold blue eye. A red eye sits beside it now. Pain. Unimaginable pain. A dark shadow. The desire for blood. The desire for uninhibited violence. Anger. Resistance. Pain. A name. A plea. A face behind that cold blue eye. A heart hidden deep within a cold hole. A bright white light that pulsated behind a cage made of the color black. Two names. Brardith. Blue Eye. Rhowen. Brardith. I seek Brardith.

The white light pulsates, held in by its black bars controlled by the red sphere. Green tendrils probe the bars, then wave gently, sensing for the presence of the red orb. One tendril slowly, carefully slips between the bars and touches the white ball.

(So….you really were a druid. I knew you’d find me.)

Excitement. Hope. Need. A tree, aging far too fast, withering quickly towards death.

(I understand. Lend me your strength, I can’t do this alone.)

More green tendrils snuck their way in, blending, merging with the white. By the time the red noticed, it was too late.

The Light was free.

**

Slowly Brardith crept through the halls of the Scholomance, working his way towards Krastinov’s room. Servants and students alike bowed to him, and stayed away from him. They still thought him the monster. He grimaced. Well enough, I don’t need senseless killing now. He held his sword in his gauntleted hand, his hand bound with cloth to help prevent the sword from making any sort of mental contact with him.

He had not hidden his dark side away, he had purged it. Destroyed it from the inside out until there was nothing left. He was himself again…but the green had vanished. Rhowen was getting weaker.

A small rivulet of blood trickled from underneath his eyepatch. He wiped it away on the cloth and looked to see if anyone noticed. Of course no one had. To lock eyes with Voidbringer usually meant dire consequences. He may have purged his evil self, but he still had the memories. Horrors he would bear for the rest of his life. The Paladin shrugged. “I’ve had worse,” he told himself.

At last he arrived at the room where his woes began. Where everything good had fallen apart. He saw the butcher working on something at his table. His hands tightened, but he held himself in check until he was right near the table.

“Oh! Oh…my lord you shouldn’t sneak up on me when I’m operating…it could end up very bad for the patient. Is something amiss? Your eye giving you trouble again? Perhaps if you’ll let me take a loo---urrrrk!”

His sentence was ended for him by a five foot long sword piercing his abdomen, and then twisted a bit so the blade was facing up. “Far too long have you desecrated the living and the dead. I have conquered your silly little mind games, and now I will have my Retribution.” Brardith promptly pulled upwards, not quite vivisecting the doctor, but certainly opening a large vertical slice in his stomach and chest. Blood spilled out of the wound and fell to the floor. Brardith planted a boot in what used to be a stomach, then beheaded him when he as on the floor. No use in taking chances. He turned his attention to the table, and winced.

The doctor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d been operating. What lay before him wasn’t really Rhowen, it was all of her innards, spread out, marked, and categorized in the order that they would be enhanced or replaced. It sickened him almost enough to lose his control of the situation. He thought for a moment, then set to work removing the pins and markers holding down the organs, and putting them back into place, as he had learned from the kindly old doctor in the Triage clinic in Theramore. Then he sealed up her abdomen, and placed a hand on it…and with a little bit more focus than usual, healed the wound shut.

A single gray eye opened, and the lips moved. But no sound came out. He hushed her, and gave her a once over, trying to see what was wrong. When his fingers passed over her neck, he found it. That fool! He hadn’t enhanced her…he’d crippled her! The dose was too strong! He kept back a sob and looked at her with a watery eye. She simply gave him her half-smile and tried to shake her head. She knew. Her hands would never hold swords again.

He couldn’t help it, his hand went up and touched her face. He knew what she would ask him, and soon enough she did. She couldn’t speak his name, but she tried. And even without that, he saw it in her eyes.

He knew the extent of the damage, and from the way she was acting, he knew what was coming. Soon he’d have a Rhowen that defied physical laws, and was stronger than anything before, probably him, too. But by the Light…this was a price he’d never wanted to pay.

But he had to.

Carefully, he positioned the blade so that it was directly over her heart. She looked at him, smiled one last time, and nodded.

He leaned in close, and kissed her once on the lips, and gave her the biggest smile he’d ever smiled. “Farewell, dearest.”

Then he drove the blade through her heart, through the table, and clear down to the floor. Then he sent pulses of Holy Fire through her, eradicating the virus, eradicating the evil as it tried to take her body, and eradicating it all. All that was left was a body, now. Her soul was in the field of roses, finally free once more.

[LordDestructo]

((In case you missed it, Rhowen is gone now. You'll no longer see her in the Alliance ranks.))

[clys]

((killer story, excellent writing, kudos

Rhowen check your PM, please :)
))

[Fallacy]

((So, Rhowen sacrificed herself to save Brardith?

Great story, you two!))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( My name is Rhowen, and I heartily gave Brardith permission to do as he did. And I owe him everything for it. <3 for life. ))

[Nadea]

((Awesome story, yayayay!! Rho....you're OURS now, I command it, bwahahaha! >:3 ))

[Tillna]

((A lways knew Rhowen was a troll..Eh, now we can all hunt her down...Silly Rhowen....Good story Mc BRardy))

[Gloomberry]

((Wow, I'm impressed. Great writing. **applauds** Makes my explanation for Gloomberry's departure pitifully inferior ... he fell asleep in cat-form and now prowls the Emerald Dream ... ))

[LordDestructo]

((there will be one more post after this, but it's not quite ready yet. don't fear, it will be short, and probably sickeningly sweet.))

[LordDestructo]

(( My name is Rhowen, and I heartily gave Brardith permission to do as he did. And I owe him everything for it. <3 for life. ))

((she owes me nothing! I owed this to her...believe not her liiiiiiies!))

[LordDestructo]

((alright alright, this is it. Sorry it took me so long. Probably lame for an ending, but I feel the compulsive urge to get it done, now. This will be the last one, I promise!))

He buried her right where she told him to. In that short joining of minds and hearts, he understood exactly where it was that she would want to be lain to rest. There was no real headstone, just a rock adorned with a single plate of her armor, riveted into the stone. No one would find it unless they REALLY looked, and only if they had been told where to look. Both he and she didn't want people trampling all over the place, paying her visits in death that they never would in life. Not that many people came to the Desolace anyways, but this was just to be safe.

On his way to the Desolace...he had reported that he had killed the marauder wearing a dark suit and an eyepatch...and his proof was that he turned in his tuxedo and his eyepatch. His burned socket, once again free o(f an eye, needed some fresh air anyways. Maybe it would actually heal now. He sent the sword to the Cathedral of Light, to be either exorcised or destroyed, its evil no longer able to taint the unwary.

The he'd arrived there, with his lone burden. People thought it weird for him to be carrying a woman all the way there with him, but he simply told them she was very tired, and he was taking her home. The gryphon master at Nijel's point especially seemed to give him an odd look. Maybe he had known her...not that it mattered. Only one thing mattered now.

He walked across the barren sands, unwilling to throw her unceremoniously over his horse's back...but he considered his slow trudging as rather a funeral procession of sorts. He almost laughed out loud, imagining the spirits of all of her loved one that had died were following him, waiting for her burial so that she could join them truly.

Then, when he arrived at the spot forever frozen in his mind, he lay her down and set to digging, with a shovel that he had liberated from a kobold so long ago...when he was but a fresh recruit. He smiled once, and kept digging, overwhelmed with nostaliga and wishes that would never come true. Somewhere in the middle of his wishing and hoping...he finished digging the hole.

He picked her up, and gently lay her down there, her final resting place, and began setting the dirt softly back over top of her. This took longer, because he was stifling sobs as he did it...he couldn't help it.

Then he pounded the headstone he'd made for her, with the piece of armor on it...her name engraved on it with the finest blacksmithing skills he'd been taught. Then he consecrated it, and the land she rested in, to prevent evil souls from desecrating it, then he laid the wards in place. Powerful wards. She would not be undead...not ever. No one would touch her corpse without his permission. He would know if they tried, too.

His work complete, he stood up. "You know...you'd probably look down on me and sniff, me being so weak and all. Well. I think part of you would've. The part that other people made you into...but...in those last moments, you saved me. You came back for me, despite your pain, despite it all, you sacrificed everything for me. I'll never forget that."

He shook his head. "I sound like such a sap. Well, you'd tell me I am just a sap. But...gah! By the Light, I'm botching the one and only funeral service you'll get!..."

"You showed me many things people did not. Regardless of what happened in your life, I cared for you..and in the end...when you linked with me, to save me from that demon, I heard your song. You used to sing to trees, you told me, and I'd always wanted to hear it. Well, I heard it, and...well. It was beautiful. Goodbye, Rhowen. You fought well, and I'm glad you didn't die alone. I'll be here, if you ever need me."

He gave the headstone a wide grin, and walked away, though he was sure he'd be back. He was someone who was never quite capable of saying goodbye.

[clys]

((*applause and tears*))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( Awwww. <3. *Bleary eyed.* ))

[Fhenrir]

(( *cough*RerollHorde*cough* ))

[Barke]

((*Barke stays in his blissful ignorance* Brar awsome writing. This was a great story.))

[Keraph]

(( *cough*RerollHorde*cough* ))

((*cough*SheDid*cough*))

[LordDestructo]

(( *cough*RerollHorde*cough* ))

((*cough*SheDid*cough*))

((true that...but not as an undead version of her previous self, I don't think... so it fits!))

[Fhenrir]

(( I was telling BRAR to reroll Horde! ))

[Keraph]

(( I was telling BRAR to reroll Horde! ))

((Ooooh, I see. That'd be cool. Though I'd like to gank him, first. Keraph blames him for Rhowen's death, and he's suprisingly affected by it.

And damn you Brar, wards and protections. I've been carrying a special little vial for Rho since she first thought about rerolling. I'm ruined!))

[LordDestructo]

(( I was telling BRAR to reroll Horde! ))

((Ooooh, I see. That'd be cool. Though I'd like to gank him, first. Keraph blames him for Rhowen's death, and he's suprisingly affected by it.

And damn you Brar, wards and protections. I've been carrying a special little vial for Rho since she first thought about rerolling. I'm ruined!))

((eh, the Rho that you have horde side is her reincarnation >.> Her soul jumped directly from her dying body to...er...some horde person's soulless body! <.<))

[Keraph]

((That's wierd, and somehow doesn't feel the same))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( Rhowen's dead and in the ground. I rolled an UD warrior named Rhowen, but really just for politics and to hold my stuff as I decided what character to play.

She'll stay dead and in the ground until there's demand for otherwise, be it through popular request or RP or otherwise. ^_~ ))

[LordDestructo]

(( Rhowen's dead and in the ground. I rolled an UD warrior named Rhowen, but really just for politics and to hold my stuff as I decided what character to play.

She'll stay dead and in the ground until there's demand for otherwise, be it through popular request or RP or otherwise. ^_~ ))

And you'll have to fight me to get to her body, I am fierce, grrrrrrrrrr!

[Keraph]

Oh believe me...if I wanted it, I would have it *superwickedevilgrinliekomg*

[LordDestructo]

((well, then you'd end up killing me, because I can't muster an army...and Brardith would rather die than give that body up. And when a paladin dies for a cause...many things happen. *cackle cackle*))

[LordDestructo]

((well, I guess I should stop posturing about, whatever happens will happen, and I could weevil about for hours, and only succeed in making myself look like a....weevil! *lets it be))