from goldenbrewtavern.com
Trubo’s Nightmare: Prophet and Prophecy
Saturday, October 31, 2009
By EMPallando
His mind awash in dark dreams, Trubo tossed and turned in his sleep, threatening to undo the bandages that covered much of his battered body.
Trubo’s face winced in mental stress as images come rushing through. Flashes and images, barely discernible, a collection of memories pooling and taking shape then dissolving just as quickly into the wreckage of his mind.
His nightmares settling at last, the images begin to slow and play out, returning to a time when the first dark seed was sewn.
——
Prophet and Prophecy
It has been a day of strife. A mixture of dirt and dry blood crusts over my hands and face. I enter my Lord’s chamber with urgency. Blackthorn does not acknowledge me at first, seated with his face buried in the pages of a massive tome that I do not recognize. I wait patiently at attention. A few moments pass.
Blackthorn finally looks up, and it is now that I notice the lines of fatigue and stress that surround his bloodshot eyes. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Blackthorn speaks hoarsely to me:
“What news, Disciple Saius?”
His voice is resigned, almost dismissive. A pang of fear and worry shudders through me. I do not display emotion as I report though.
“British is fled, along with a majority of his followers. What remains of our forces are in full retreat and our hold on Trinsic and Minoc is tenuous at best. Disciple Zykos is dead, ambushed along with his guard on the road to Vesper. Disciple Calathar and his garrison have been expelled from Magincia by its ruling council for reasons unknown. I have ordered him to report to myself or Tyrius by the safest route. Also–
Blackthorn stands. I am unsure whether to go on. He walks casually over to the closest bookshelf, quickly selecting another tome and thumbing through its pages. I feel I should remain silent. His back to me, Blackthorn speaks again.
“What of Disciple Ravenia, has she been found?”
“No my Lord. Though we have received several sightings of her supposedly alongside the enemy, I place little trust in these reports.”
Blackthorn returns to his seat as I speak, his gaze not once meeting my own. Continuing to sound off what I have learned, my voice eventually trails off into nothing as the writing etched onto the pages my lord is preoccupied with absorb me as well. My eyes begin to ache the longer I look upon the these runes and arcane symbols that are foreign to me, but I can not turn away. A feeling of dread and wrong creeps into me.
A seemingly silent eternity of awe, fear and wonder pass and I am startled only by the touch of Blackthorn’s hand on my shoulder. Standing an arm’s length away, he speaks reassuringly to me.
“Steel yourself my old friend. For the weak there is only death and only darkness within these pages. But for the strong and the willing there is knowledge and power eternal, both ancient and untouched.”
Turning from me, Blackthorn closes the tomes. I sigh a sense of relief.
“And for us, Disciple Saius, it is the key to our salvation and perhaps, handled correctly, the path to a new and glorious age.”
Despite the pit of dark foreboding that forms in my mind, I find myself smiling.
Trubo’s Nightmare: Prophet and Prophecy
Saturday, October 31, 2009
By EMPallando
His mind awash in dark dreams, Trubo tossed and turned in his sleep, threatening to undo the bandages that covered much of his battered body.
Trubo’s face winced in mental stress as images come rushing through. Flashes and images, barely discernible, a collection of memories pooling and taking shape then dissolving just as quickly into the wreckage of his mind.
His nightmares settling at last, the images begin to slow and play out, returning to a time when the first dark seed was sewn.
——
Prophet and Prophecy
It has been a day of strife. A mixture of dirt and dry blood crusts over my hands and face. I enter my Lord’s chamber with urgency. Blackthorn does not acknowledge me at first, seated with his face buried in the pages of a massive tome that I do not recognize. I wait patiently at attention. A few moments pass.
Blackthorn finally looks up, and it is now that I notice the lines of fatigue and stress that surround his bloodshot eyes. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Blackthorn speaks hoarsely to me:
“What news, Disciple Saius?”
His voice is resigned, almost dismissive. A pang of fear and worry shudders through me. I do not display emotion as I report though.
“British is fled, along with a majority of his followers. What remains of our forces are in full retreat and our hold on Trinsic and Minoc is tenuous at best. Disciple Zykos is dead, ambushed along with his guard on the road to Vesper. Disciple Calathar and his garrison have been expelled from Magincia by its ruling council for reasons unknown. I have ordered him to report to myself or Tyrius by the safest route. Also–
Blackthorn stands. I am unsure whether to go on. He walks casually over to the closest bookshelf, quickly selecting another tome and thumbing through its pages. I feel I should remain silent. His back to me, Blackthorn speaks again.
“What of Disciple Ravenia, has she been found?”
“No my Lord. Though we have received several sightings of her supposedly alongside the enemy, I place little trust in these reports.”
Blackthorn returns to his seat as I speak, his gaze not once meeting my own. Continuing to sound off what I have learned, my voice eventually trails off into nothing as the writing etched onto the pages my lord is preoccupied with absorb me as well. My eyes begin to ache the longer I look upon the these runes and arcane symbols that are foreign to me, but I can not turn away. A feeling of dread and wrong creeps into me.
A seemingly silent eternity of awe, fear and wonder pass and I am startled only by the touch of Blackthorn’s hand on my shoulder. Standing an arm’s length away, he speaks reassuringly to me.
“Steel yourself my old friend. For the weak there is only death and only darkness within these pages. But for the strong and the willing there is knowledge and power eternal, both ancient and untouched.”
Turning from me, Blackthorn closes the tomes. I sigh a sense of relief.
“And for us, Disciple Saius, it is the key to our salvation and perhaps, handled correctly, the path to a new and glorious age.”
Despite the pit of dark foreboding that forms in my mind, I find myself smiling.