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About clys

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  1. Simply outstanding. I hope you'll post the completed figure, if you decide to do that.
  2. Tsk, tsk, Dio. I took you for more intelligent than that. Thier assholiness also comes from within, so there is really no way to have a blood knight without the inherent jerk factor. In fact, I suggest that we begin addressing them in this manner. *bows low* Yes, your assholiness. What do you think?
  3. Clys watched quietly as Broxigan and Machetta shared their moment...it was the first time their eyes had met, and Clys would not intrude. She waited until Broxigan turned to her. The look on his face was sufficient, but his words were clear. "Clys..thank you so much.." Clys nodded, a soft smile playing across her lips. "My pleasure, Broxigan," she said. "Try not to join any horrendous rituals any time soon, will you? And enjoy your sight. Machetta, I'm sure you'll help him do that. "You're free to get dressed and go on home. Take it easy a couple of days. The eyes are fully healed but you may experience some dizziness or whatever just from the shock of being able to see again after so long. Smurch or Linetta can show you out, when you're ready." With that, Clys left them with Linetta, and went to her own room to wash up and rest.
  4. The operation took several hours. Clys cut away the ruined tissues that still remained in Broxigan's devastated eye sockets. As she worked with the scalpel, she kept up a constant aura of both light and shadow magic which caused her hands to appear partially transparent. The flesh seemed to obey her, and she did not cut so much as command it to do her bidding. When the sockets were clean, she brought the first eye out of its nutrient tank. She carefully held it with her gloved fingers, positioning the nerve stem and sliding it into the eye socket. With a word, Clys called forth her magics, and the room swirled with smoke-like energy. She leaned over Broxigan and breathed on the eyeball, which began to squirm in her grasp. The nerves and muscles came to life, waving back and forth as if seeking something. Another soft word, and the eyeball slid out of her grip of its own accord, jumping down into Broxigan's eye socket, the nerves and muscles sliding into his head to find their proper connections. The eye trembled for a moment, and then was still. Clys closed Broxigan's eyelid. After the process was repeated with the other eye, Clys gently cleaned Broxigan's face where some blood and nutrient fluid had collected, and then stood back. Linetta, who had stood beside Clys to hand her instruments during the surgery, now took the tray away to be cleaned. Clys took Broxigan's pulse, nodding to Machetta, who was still there, holding onto his hand. "It's done," said Clys with a gentle smile. "When he wakes up, he will see you for the first time."
  5. Clys was all professionalism as Broxigan exited the restroom, dressed in his operating gown. She waved him into the operating room without comment, nodding to Linetta who helped Broxigan up onto the operating table. Taking hold of Broxigan's arm, Clys tapped his inner elbow a few times until the vein popped up a bit. "Nice and big," she said. "You make things easy for me, Brox." Deftly, she inserted a needle into his vein, taping it in place. A rubber tube led from the needle to a soft bag-like bottle containing a pale liquid, which she hung on a stand near the table. "I'm going to begin the anesthesia now, Broxigan," said Clys, as she began to add something to the tube using a syringe. "Please count backwards from ten, for me, dear." She smiled at Broxigan, waiting for the drugs to kick in.
  6. Once again I have been forcefully reminded of my own insignificance, ignorance, and stupidity. It always happens when I trust people, and yet I continue to wax hopeful, and extend my trust, only to have it shattered once again. The one person I would have sworn was forever mine has left me. My heart is ripped asunder and the pain is beyond imagining. I cannot even write about it other than to acknowledge that it is there. Whispersoft...why? I gave you all I had to give...even your freedom...but you were not content. I held you with an open hand, asking nothing of you, yet still you pulled away, wanting to be single, and free of me, free of my love. I will never understand. For I love you now as fervently as I ever did. I cannot, and will not, withdraw my love from you, regardless of what you do. You have gone, but I love you eternally. The shock of Whispersoft's leaving was followed by another, lesser one. The University suddenly and without warning or explanation expelled me. I spent some time talking to the faculty members, yet even the Headmistress was unable, or unwilling, to explain to me what I had done to warrant such a sudden and irrevocable dismissal. No charges were brought against me. I had no chance to respond to any accusers, or to explain any actions of mine. No one would even tell me what I was supposed to have done, other than to say that I "made people uncomfortable." If that is grounds for dismissal, then most of the students should be expelled. Everyone makes someone uncomfortable at some point. It is not a big deal from my perspective, other than the inability to defend myself. Rumors are flying about why I was dismissed, and having been barred from the campus I cannot engage any of my former classmates in a discussion about it. Once again, I fear, my reputation will grow all out of proportion to any reality. Not that I care, truly, but it is a bit annoying. And so I find myself unexpectedly in need of a new place to work, a new place to put my effort into, some kind of haven for my shattered soul. When Broxigan called to me last night inquiring about his eyes, I told him that they were indeed ready for implantation. He then asked me how I was doing. Apparently he had already heard of my situation. He is blind, perhaps, but he knows what is going on more than most. To my surprise, he offered to speak to the Warboss about me. To my further surprise, she opened the doors of Sanctuary to me, welcoming me into their midst. I hope that it is fate that has brought me here. If there is anything I need right now, it is a sanctuary. Will I find friends within? Time alone will tell. In the meantime, I have hired the assassin Agaliarept to be my head of security. She will act as my personal bodyguard, and information gatherer. I have already asked her to investigate Sanctuary. If this is to be my new home, I need to know where I stand with the various members. Agaliarept is a bit young, but she has a way about her that pleases me. I took the precaution of shadow-binding her to my service, which she was glad to do. She sees this job as a grand opportunity. I have promised to write her a glowing letter of recommendation, to Ravenholdt, assuming that she performs well. And I believe she will. I will rest a bit easier knowing that she is watching my back. My Master at Arms, Pelerin, has restated his faith in me. He is not concerned with rumors. He knows me, and remains loyal. I have plans that will require his talents, soon.
  7. The large door creaked open, and the Nex'Cruor's lanky butler, Smurch, appeared, wearing his usual ill-fitting black suit. The pant legs ended at his ankles, his white socks clearly visible for several inches before disappearing into his gunboat-sized shoes. He peered at Broxigan and Machetta with an expression of pained suffering on his features. Nonetheless, he offered them a stiff bow, and pulled the door wide to admit them. "Walk this way," he growled in his low gravely voice. Smurch led them down the long ornate hallway to the entrance of the public laboratory, and opened the door for them, standing aside so that they could enter. Clys was seated at a desk, making some kind of notes, and looked up as they entered. She rose to greet them. "Welcome again, Broxigan, Machetta," she said. "The operatory is all prepared. I am ready to begin the implantation. Broxigan, you'll need to undress and put on this robe." Clys held out an item of clothing, a simple shift with arms and ties in the back. She pressed it against Broxigan's hand. "When you've done that, I'll take you into the operating room and perform the surgery," Clys said. "All you have to do is relax, dear. I'll take care of everything. Linetta will be assisting me." Clys motioned to a young Sindorei woman who was standing in the doorway to the operating room, already clad in surgical scrubs. Linetta nodded respectfully as she was introduced. "Machetta, perhaps you could help Broxigan dress? You know where the restroom is already," said Clys, gracing Machetta with a professional smile.
  8. Clys nodded with satisfaction. The eyes were ready. They seemed to stare at her from the small vat, their gray irises shiny with moistness. She set down her notebook and dribbled a bit of the nutrient fluid over the eyes. It was time to call Broxigan. "Dear Broxigan, The eyes have it. That is to say, your eyes are ready to implant. Contact me immediately so that we can schedule the procedure. It will require several hours, and the sooner we can do it, the better. Sincerely, Clys"
  9. A few more days pass, and the eyes grow rapidly. Clys continues to monitor their growth, but no problems arise. "They will be ready soon," she thinks. "I should have given him shadow sight...oh well. He wanted normal eyes. That's what he'll get."
  10. Clys returned the following day to check on the growth of the eyes. Peering through a magnifier, she could see the cells were growing nicely. She adjusted the nutrient feeds, rechecked the temperature, and made a few notes in her lab notebook.
  11. Clys took all the samples, carrying them to her inner, secret lab. The lab could only be accessed through a private transportation orb, which was tuned to work only for her. It made the lab completely secure. There would be no tampering with her work. She spent the next several hours engrossed in alchemical and magical interactions, taking the samples and splitting and binding the cells and their inner genetic materials until she had what she wanted. She placed the two completed cell clusters into a small vat of bubbling liquid, and nodded to herself. She checked the temperatures and nutrient feeds, and at last was done. "There," she said with satisfaction. "In a few days, the new eyes will be grown, complete with all the necessary nerves and muscles. I'm sure Broxigan will be quite pleased."
  12. clys

    A New Immortal

    Clys screamed with rage and pain as her mind cleared. She saw the dagger plunge into Whispersoft's body, giving Clys the time she needed to react. "You forget, father," she cried. "I am no longer a simple rogue!" With a wave of her hand, Clys unleashed a blast of unholy energy which caught her father with full force. He staggered backwards, crying out in agony. Clys' body became partially transparent as she called the shadows to herself. Her mind blast tore into her father, splintering his thoughts into tiny shards, stunning him and making him unable to think. A mind flay followed, and another, as Clys removed the layers of her father's mind, stripping it to the core. "Shadow Word: Death!" she shouted, and with a clap of energy and sound, her father collapsed into a heap of ashes. The winds began to blow them away, and Clys knelt down over Whispersoft, who was unconscious and bleeding on the ground. Clys pulled the dagger from Whispersoft's body, concentrating to bring forth her healing powers. The wound closed, and Whispersoft's eyes fluttered open. Clys smiled. "That was my Dad," she said. "I never did like him." With a wry grin Clys helped Whispersoft to her feet. "Thank you dearest," she said, smiling into Whispersoft's eyes. "Let's go home. All is well, now."
  13. A page from Clys' journal - I am outraged. There's no other word for it, and even that is not sufficient. I am angry beyond words. That stuck up, arrogant, holier-than-thou person who I used to call a friend, Skafloc, actually spent his time last night calling my beloved Whispersoft every kind of evil name...whore...slut...betrayer... And in the process he revealed what he *really* thinks of me, as well. He thinks I'm an old fool, unaware of what's going on around me. He thinks he understands love and commitment, but he has his head so far up his ass he's looking out his navel. And...here's the kicker...it turns out all he really cares about is my money? Who's going to get the inheritance when I die? What a tiny, pathetic person he turns out to be after all. Let me explain what true love and commitment actually are. True love is when you love a person for exactly what they are. You love their flaws. You love their strengths. You love their desires and their hates. You love them completely and utterly, without a speck of illusion about who they are. And you love them forever. The idea that the only true love is one in which there is no sharing is stupid. How can love be increased by vowing to never touch any but one person? All you've done is put an artificial restraint on how much love you'll allow into your life. And...it's dishonest. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has desires for more than one person. Those that say they don't are lying. So if you're going to love someone as they truly are...an not some illusion of them...you're going to have to deal with what their actual desires are. Even if you don't share them. It takes the strongest kind of love to care *that* deeply. It takes the strongest kind of love to take the pain of knowing your darling one wants to touch someone else as well. It takes the strongest kind of love to admit that you also have other desires. It takes the strongest kind of love to be honest about all that, and to still love each other beyond words. It takes the strongest kind of love to love without illusion, forever and ever, never to be parted. THAT is the kind of love I have with Whispersoft. I know that we are bonded for eternity. I know that our hearts beat as one. I love her as she is. I wish to change nothing. I will not stop her from pursuing any desire she has. I will rejoice in her always, in her life, in her love, in her wonderful and unique take on everything the world has to offer. Eternity with her is not nearly long enough. Let others call us whatever names they wish. I KNOW that our love is true, and that what they have is but a pale shadow of real love. Let them cower behind their vows of fidelity. It is nothing but a lie. ---there is a space here, as if she came back later to write more--- I was speaking of eternity before. Skafloc did do me one favor. He got himself killed, showing me the flaw in my immortality methods. Those have been fixed now. It is no longer possible to kill me, or Whispersoft. Even if we were burned to ashes, even if our spirits were blasted to the nether, we would still reconstitute. We are now fully able to resume our lives at will, in another location if necessary, whether or not we can recover our bodies. This makes the whole issue of 'inheritance' that seems to bother Skafloc so much, a moot point. Nonetheless, he has angered me to the point of action. I am removing him from my will entirely. I am naming Whispersoft my sole heir, and Izrail after her, should neither of us survive, although that's impossible. I'm doing it for the legality of it, and to shut Skafloc out. I will be glad when he turns to dust before me. So much for trust and loyalty.
  14. Clys chuckled at Whispersoft. "No peephole watching for you?" she grinned. "Well I don't blame you, dearest. I'm not about to look either. I might wind up blind as Broxigan from watching that!" She snickered. For the next half hour she helped Whispersoft go through the article submissions, laughing at some, ooh-ing at others, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls and making funny comments. When Broxigan and Machetta emerged, Clys went over to take the cup from the table where Machetta had placed it. She eyed the contents, raising an eyebrow. The cup was nearly overflowing. "Um, yes, this will be just fine, Broxigan." Clys gave Machetta an evil grin, and hurried to put the sample away. When she was done, she smiled at Broxigan and Machetta. "That's all I need," she said. "I'll get to work right away. As soon as the eyes are ready, I'll call you."
  15. clys

    A New Immortal

    Clys turned to look where Whispersoft was pointing. She frowned when she saw the decaying tree in the distance. Why hadn't she noticed it before? Outrage filled her as she squeezed Whispersoft's hand and headed toward the tree. Who was this that dared to besmirch her beloved? They would pay, she vowed, her anger flaring. With quick and determined steps, the two approached the tree. As they drew near, it seemed to change shape, becoming more and more humanoid in appearance. The branches became arms and legs. The trunk became a torso, neck, and head. The head turned to face them, the bark of the tree shifting and sliding to form a face. A face that Clys suddenly recognized. Clys stopped dead in her tracks as the memories washed over her. She was a little girl, sitting on someone's knees, laughing happily. She was a teenager, trying to sneak past her teacher and failing time after time. The same hand struck her across the face at each failure. But she did not cry. She was a young woman, slender and agile. She slipped easily into the shadows, coming up behind someone to say "Boo!" The person turned, nodding only slightly, and then sent her away. She was undead, coming into a room where a trollish-looking girl was being raped upon a table. She shouted in anger and leapt forward, driving her daggers into the back of the rapist. He turned to look at her as his life bled away. That face. That same face. "Father?" said Clys, stunned for a moment. A moment was all it took. The tree-man shifted to elven form, and struck her with his fist, knocking her to the ground dazed. He laughed, his voice sounding strange, and yet still the same voice she remembered. "Thought you could kill me, did you, daughter?" he cackled. "I'm not so easily disposed of, and you were never worth anything anyway. I've possessed your "wife", as you call her. And now I will destroy you, and her. A dagger appeared in his hand, and he sprung forward, driving the blade toward Clys' heart.