Resurrecting a Spirit: (Gert Addams' story)

[vlowe72]

The most terrifying word known to man is 'Alone.'  Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

He took another drink of Tsuika, this time draining the glass, setting it down with a bit more force than he intended.  He felt the container crack, but luckily it did not shatter.  Bianca, would probably make him pay for it though, because glass wasn't easy to come by out here in the Outskirts.

He sat back and closed his eyes, rubbing both of them with his thumb and forefinger.  The gypsy wine hit his empty stomach and spread its pleasant warmth out in a slow spiral.  He waited for it to work his way up to his brain where it would begin its numbing work.  Maybe then he could find the resolve to go upstairs and go to sleep.

Or go upstairs anyway.  Sleep was becoming a rarer and rarer commodity these days, and some nights he did not even bother trying.  The drink was partly to blame, but he could not bear the thoughts his traitor mind unleashed on him when he was completely lucid.  Then there was what he thought of as the black mind fog, a heavy blanket of melancholy that descended on him and weighed his limbs and his sense of purpose down.

An outside observer would probably remark that his state of mind was simply due to his being displaced from his homeland and deposited here in this foreign land.  But that would not be correct.  He had been battling the black fog for many years before the white fog had taken him.  It was just that before he had his training and his duties with the Church had kept his mind occupied to keep the fog at bay.  He had been just as alone in a city of thousands as he was in the Svalitch woods.

But here, he had been forced to take on different roles in order to scratch out a living.  He had found a talent for hunting and skinning game, but hunting gave one a lot of time for thinking.  The Black Fog had found a beachhead, and with time, it built a stronghold.  With maniac glee, it hammered away at his spirit, until the foundation began to crack.

Dedicating his life to the Morninglord's service had held the black fog at bay for a while.  He actually felt emotions such as "fellowship" and "purpose"; things that up to now had only been meaningless words to him.  But it didn't last.  Even those good people in the church could sense the black fog on him and he could sense them turning away from him.  They did not do so intentionally;  it is just human instinct to resist that which threaten one's own happiness.

Some days (and those were turning into most days with frightening speed) he considering just taking up his axe and venturing out after sunset.  He would undoubtedly find the deadly night creatures and perhaps he would manage to slay a few of them.  And they would return the favor and end his agony.

He sighed and pushed the glass away.  Perhaps some day but not today.

A sound caught his ear.  Several musical notes of some kind, sounding as if they came from some kind of stringed instrument.  He turned to the table next to his and saw a young woman holding one of those violins, that he remembered seeing played at the Vistani camp, but he hadn't seen anywhere else.  Curious, he listened as she played a slow melody that somehow seemed to lift his spirits.  Just a little.

Then the song ended, and as the notes trailed away, she brushed a strand of auburn hair away from her eyes.  Before he could avert his eyes, she caught his gaze and smiled.

"Hello sir," she said.  "My name's Olivia.  Would you like to hear a song?"

[vlowe72]

He sat in the grass and looked over at the entrance to the Lady's Rest.  Night had fallen and the shadows from the trees covered his face as effectively as a hood.  If someone could see his face, they would notice the look of naked terror in his wide eyed gaze and wonder what fearsome creature lurked in the shadows to illicit such fear from a large and well-armed man.

The fearsome creature was not hiding in the shadows.  It was in the inn, the other patrons oblivious to its presence.  He knew, because he had watched it enter earlier at the stroke of midnight.  Even now he could hear the distinctive sounds that it made, scattered amongst the typical noises of a crowded tavern.

He had purchased a weapon that many had told him would be effective against the creature.  He had also memorized a phrase of power to use, but whether any of it would work was anyone's guess.  Many had counseled him on the best ways to combat it, but it seemed like everyone had a different method to go about it, resulting in a lot of contradictory information that was useless to him.  So, he decided to go with his instinct.

His heart thudded in his chest and cold sweat covered his brow.  He was more frightened than he had ever been in his life.  He had gone through the entrances of ancient crypts, ogre - infested caves and vampire lairs with more confidence than he now faced the simple wooden door of an nondescript inn in the Outskirts.  He had found himself bound and helpless and at the mercy of a vampire, had faced down a mummy lord emerging from its tomb and come across a huge werewolf twice his size out in the forest.  But this creature, the thing he faced now, scared him more than any of those other things.

You don't have to do this, he told himself.  You can turn away now and no one will even know that you were here.

Yes, no one would know of his cowardice, except himself.  And he would hate himself for it.

He forced himself up and walked over to the entrance, keeping his special weapon out of sight.  If it spotted the weapon before he was ready, it would give the whole game up.  One hand on the latch, a turn and he was inside.

As his eyes adjusted to the bright light he scanned the room.  There, over at a corner table.  It was alone and it hadn't seen him yet.  Good.  He may manage to pull this off yet.  He drew his weapon, drawing a few raised eyebrows and confused glances his way.

He approached the table. Then it looked up and recognized him.  Panic flooded his mind.  He was undone.  He thrust his weapon forward and prepared to recite the words of power.  Too late.  The creature opened its mouth and unleashed its power on him...



...



"Why Mr. Gert, a pleasure to see you again!"  Olivia smiled at him and his mind turned to jelly.  He set the bouquet of red roses in font of her and grabbed the nearest chair before his legs could give out on him.

"For me?  Oh, sir you do dote on me so."  She pulled a blossom from the bunch and inhaled.  "They're lovely."

He swallowed and found his voice.  "I thought, that we might take a walk in the orchards at daybreak.  That is if you had no other plans."

She looked at the window at the hints of sunlight.  "That sounds wonderful.  Let me put my violin away.  I'll meet you out front."  She stood and smoothed out her skirt, then she gave him another smile.  "Be right back."

As she left, he became aware of the others around him, many giving him knowing smirks.  He heard a few catcalls and a tinge of red rushed up his cheeks.  There was no reason for him to be here any longer, so he half-walked, half ran for the exit.

He closed the front door behind him and leaned up against it.  Some travelers gave him an odd glance, and he knew that it was probably due to the big stupid grin on his face.  He shook his head.  To the Nine Hells with them.  He had defeated the fearsome creature in their midst.

[vlowe72]

"Get away from me!"  she screamed at him as he attempted to put a hand on her shoulder.  Blood trickled from her nose and her eyes were wide with terror.  Her deep green eyes focused on him as though he were a fiend from the Abyss.

Gert could not find his voice.  His mind had conjured many possible outcomes to this scenario.  He had thought that she might laugh at him or get angry with him.  Mostly, he dared hope that she would smile at him and say "I have fallen in love with you, as well." 

Never in his wildest imaginings had he thought that she would run from him and start retching into the bushes. 

"Olivia," he said softly "it's me.  Tell me what's wrong."

She looked up at him, tear filled eyes giving him a pleading look.  "Please Gert, don't touch me."

"All right."  He took a step back.  At a loss, as to what else to do, he sat cross legged on the ground and watched her.  For several minutes she sobbed and beat the ground with her fists, her words unintelligible for the most part, but he caught some words such as "I can't" and "won't let it." 

She started hyperventilating.  Fearing that she was dying, he stood up and cautiously walked to her.  "Don't,"  she moaned and crawled a few feet away from him.  He sighed and returned to his post and watched her.

He waited almost an hour, the only sounds was her sobbing and the occasional night bird.  Her breathing gradually slowed, and he thought that she had fallen asleep, but then she rolled over and looked at him.  His heart broke.  Blood from her nose had smeared the front of her dress and leaves and twigs lay entangled through the long expanse of her hair.

"You can't love me.  You shouldn't love me." she whispered.

"The time of 'should' and 'ought' has passed." he said.  "The fact is that I do, and I don't know how to not love you.  Please, let me help you."

She shook her head.  "You can't."

Eventually, she did fall asleep, and he kept a silent vigil throughout the night.  At last dawn broke on the horizon, and he began his morning devotions with a heartfelt prayer.

"Lord of the Dawn," he whispered.  "I do not know how to help this one.  Please, in your beneficence, grant me the wisdom to know what to do."

He paused and then spoke both to his deity and himself.  "I do love her, but I also want her safe.  I pledge to do whatever it takes to protect her, even if it costs me my life."

He looked over at her sleeping form and a single tear trickled down his cheek. 

"Or my heart."

[vlowe72]

To martyr yourself to caution is not going to help at all.
Because there'll be no safety in numbers When the right one walks out of the door - Pink Floyd


She refused to look at him.  He stood awkwardly at the table for almost a minute before he found his voice.  "Can I sit down?"

She looked up from her glass and looked up at him, with clenched jaws.  Anger, hurt and betrayal boiled behind her eyes as she spoke with barely contained fury.  "There seem to be plenty of chairs."

He moved his massive frame into a chair opposite from where she sat.  The temperature in the inn seemed to drop by several degrees.  "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," she hissed.

His worst nightmare realized.  He should have know she would find out.  He felt like he was standing on a rope bridge over a great chasm, and he could hear the sound of snapping hemp. Damn himself and his stupidity!

He should just walk away.  He didn't have the skills to salvage this.  There was nothing he could do or say to make things right.  But he at least had to try.

"I can't justify what I did.  It was a stupid mistake and I hate myself for what I did to you.  If I can explain, though, maybe if you understand why, and it will make it easier for you."

She suddenly grabbed her glass and threw it against the wall.  The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the inn.  A young blond woman looked up from her book, saw the look of pure anger on her face, and decided to focus her attention back to her reading.

"You just don't get it, you idiot!"  she snarled at him.  "I don't care about those other whores.  You're just doing what men do.  What I don't understand is... "  Her breath hitched and she started to cry.  "if that's what you wanted, why didn't you just come to me?  I'd have taken your money, just like all the rest."

It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in.  "You don't mean to say that you...?"

She nodded, wiping angrily at her eyes.  "I'm a courtesan.  Probably better than anyone you'll find around here.  My body could have been yours for the same price.  But apparently, I wasn't worth it to you."

There was a second sound in the inn, similar to the sound of the glass, but only he heard it.  It was the sound of his own heart shattering.

A lot of things started to click into place.  Her frequent disappearances, her knowledge of all of Barovia's inns, her popularity with the males of the realm.  He had just attributed it to her beauty, and indeed that was part of it, but also...

No.

He had been a fool.  It had all been a lie.  That's why they got paid so well.  They created an illusion of intimacy between strangers and he had believed the illusion.

He almost didn't notice when she got up and stumbled out into the night, shoving more than a few patrons out of the way.  He looked up at the sound of the slamming door, wondering if he should go after her.

"You'll only cause her more pain," he thought.  "That's what you do.  You bring pain to those around you."

He almost sat down.  But then another voice spoke up in his head.  "Do you still love her?"  He sifted through the hundreds of conflicting emotions down to the smashed remains of his heart and examined the broken pieces.

"Yes," he whispered.  "Yes I do, still."

He drew his cloak around himself.  He would have an answer from her.  She had not rejected him outright yet.  If she told him to go away from her, he would.  And then he would spend the rest of his life trying to live without her.  But if there was a chance, he had to take it.



Don't threaten me with love, baby - Billie Holiday

[vlowe72]

It was right after midnight, when he finally drifted off.  He had held her for several hours talking about random subjects, almost as if he was trying to avoid sleep, but the day finally wore on him and his eyes closed. 

Olivia wanted nothing more than to rest as well, but she knew that she had to get out of there before he woke up.  Gently, she slid out from beneath his arm, and started gathering up her things.  She then stood at the edge of the bed, watching him for a long while.

She dredged the depths of her soul for any feelings for this man.  Any trace of affection at all.

Nothing.

The best she could come up with was a vague sadness, a slight longing, that she could return the feelings that he had for her.  She sighed.  The desire for a feeling, and the feeling itself are two different things.  She looked at his face with pity.  She knew she was breaking his heart, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

As she started to turn away, he cried out something unrecognizable.  She turned, thinking that he had awakened and had tried to stop her, but then she saw that his eyes were still closed.  He was thrashing about, dreaming, and his dreams were not pleasant.

"They're Dead!" he cried out.  His fist shot out and struck the wall.  The wood splintered with a crack and she saw blood on his knuckles.  He had come very close to punching a hole through it.  He was always so gentle with her, that she forgot how powerful he really was.

She knelt and took his hand.  It was swelling and he probably dislocated a knuckle, so she murmured a quick spell of healing.  He probably wouldn't even know about the injury, when he awakened.  She kissed it and put it back on his chest; he promptly rolled over and settled down into a deeper slumber. 

She laid a red rose next to him and turned away towards the door.  It was best this way.  Eventually he would get over her, and he could move on to someone else, someone who could make him happy.  Eventually, his love might curdle into hatred for her, but that was all right.

"I wish I could, but I can't," she whispered to his sleeping form.

She closed the door behind her and did not look back.

...

Sunlight streamed through the window when his eyes finally opened.  He had missed the dawn for the first time in weeks.  But he had had a good sleep, his first in ages.  He started to get up, then he looked over for Olivia.

She was gone.  He had suspected she would be.  Their last night together had had a note of finality about it.  He might see her again; Barovia wasn't that big of a place, but it would only be through coincidence.  And he would not hold her again.

He put the rose in his pack and felt for his axe.  Today, he would make a trip to the Sullen Woods, for he felt a need to hit something really really hard. 

He rubbed his hand absently.  Gods, he needed a drink.

[vlowe72]

There's only one way to hurt a man who's lost everything:  Give him back something broken.
Stephen Donaldson - Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant


He had not been to the Prancing Nymph before, but he suspected that it was not usually like this, with dead patrons on the floor, bloodstains everywhere.  A Garda lay on the ground, moaning and bleeding from a wound on his head.  He knelt and tended to his wound, and heard a movement against the wall.  He looked up

He had not expected to see her again, but here she was.  They looked at each other, but did not say a word.  And the old wounds in his heart that had finally begun to heal, were ripped out and began bleeding anew.

He stabilized the garda enough to get him on his feet.  Without a word of thanks, they ushered him out the front door, slamming and locking it behind him.  "All non witnesses out!"

...

After a lot of searching around, he heard whispers that she was staying with the Romulichs, so he made his way to the orchards, where she had told him the whole story.

The Garda had not found a killer, so they needed someone to blame.  They settled on a musician/courtesan who's only crime, as far as he knew, was being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  He supposed it was possible that she was involved.  She had a lot of secrets, but he trusted her more than he trusted the Garda.

"You have to go away, Olivia.  You have to go into hiding.  Change your name, face hair, everything.  You can't be seen with your old associates.  Including me."

She wiped her eyes.  "Maybe if I turn myself in, I can explain that I had nothing to do with it."

"You've already explained it to them.  They interrogated you for over an hour.  They aren't interested in your guilt or innocence.  They just want someone they can arrest so that they don't look completely incompetent."  He pulled a bag from his belt and pressed it into her hand.  "Take this."

She opened the bag and her eyes widened at the sparkle of coins within.  She looked at him, her lips curved up into a half smile.  "You know what this buys you?"

He nodded.  "It buys me the knowledge that you have enough to make a start and stay safe, at least for a little while. And maybe..."  He tried to stay cheerful, but his voice choked "...one more song?"

She stared at him, then nodded.  "I don't know how good it will be, but I'll try."  She pulled out her violin and took a deep breath.

She played and sang for him for almost a half hour.  It was probably not her best work, but he knew he would remember that music for the rest of life.  When she was done, she put her case away and moved over to lay her head on his shoulder.

"Stay with me?  Just for a little while?"

He nodded.  "I'll stay until dawn.  Then, you have to be going.  We might see each other, but I cannot act like I know you.  The Garda have already questioned me as to your whereabouts, so they will be watching."

They sat without speaking and waited for the sunrise.  He could almost laugh at the irony.  A Lightcarrier, hoping that the night would last a little longer.  But, as always, the first few lights peeked over the horizon and they both got to their feet.  They faced each other, a thousand unspoken words flying between them.

He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him.  She squeezed him at tightly as she could, neither of them wanting to let go.

"Find happiness, Olivia" he whispered.  "And if things get too dark, try to remember that somewhere out there, there's a knight who remembers you and lo.... cares for you a great deal."

"My knight," she whispered.  "I never thought I'd have one of those."

He had to chuckle at that.  "Just like the princess you are."

He looked at her, trying to memorize what she looked like.  It became too difficult for him, so he turned away and began walking away.  "Goodbye."

The early morning shadows swallowed him up.  He did not speak to her again.


Special thanks to BeautifulSorcery for all the great RP that made this narrative possible.

[vlowe72]

Chapter 2:  Cerridwyen.

The beast growled and crouched low to the ground, baring dagger-like teeth at him.  He raised his shield and axe in front of him, setting himself for the inevitable charge.

"Come on," he muttered.  "Quit trying to impress me, and have at me."

The werewolf sprang at him, covering a dozen yards in one leap.  A single swipe of black claws tossed his shield aside and the maw snapped forward fixing on his left forearm.  Instead of the expected tearing of flesh and blood spurting, there was an odd crunch. 
It backed off and shook its head, spitting out a tooth.  He almost laughed aloud at the confused look on its face.

"That's it for you, hairy beast.  Good night."

His fiery axe came around.  The beast's enormous bulk hit the ground spraying lycanthrope blood everywhere and filling the air with the stench of burnt fur.  He wiped his visor, and glanced around to see if the sounds of the struggle had brought more of the pack.  He was almost disappointed to find that the cave was empty.

He knelt down and checked for any injuries, but he appeared to have not a scratch.  He flexed his hand and marveled at the stoneskin enchantment.  Damn, he could get used to this!

He pulled off his helmet and wiped the sweat off his brow.  "You still with me, Cerridwyn?"  he called out to the supposedly empty cave.

He heard a lighthearted giggle and something poked him in the back.  He whirled around and grabbed at the empty air.  His hand closed on something soft and warm, though his eyes told him that nothing was there.  "Got you!"

A long pause then her disembodied voice spoke out  "Er... your hand is on my... ummm."

"Gods."  He drew back his hand as if he had touched a red hot stove.  "Sorry."  She giggled again.

He staggered as he felt the enchantments that she had cast on him begin to fade.  "We'd better rest up for a bit, before we go deeper." 

She shimmered and appeared suddenly to his left, causing him to jump.  "Whatever you say."  He shook his head and sat down on the ground.  She sat down next to him, close but not quite touching.  He broke open some rations which he shared with her.  She smiled at him, and brushed a stray lock of her white hair away from her deep blue eyes; giving him one of those coy looks that he could not quite figure out the meaning.

"I'll need to focus for a while, to regain my spells.  Try not to make any noise unless you really have to."

She sat back and closed her eyes.  She looked like she was asleep, except that she sat straight up and her head did not slump.  He sat back and sighed deeply, watching her.

He was content, at least for now.  She was exactly what he needed.  She gave him companionship, but not the deep feelings that a true love affair with all its attendant angst and potential heartbreak.  He was falling for her, true, but she was not the be all and end all of his existence.  He was not sure where their relationship was headed, if anywhere, but it was enough for now for them just to be together.

Best of all, she was very good in a fight.

He closed his eyes and just basked in the glow of his own feelings and in her presence.  He almost fell asleep, when she poked him.  "Ready?"

He nodded and pulled on his helm.  She began the process of casting her spells of protection and enhancement.  He felt the power coursing through his body and he gripped his axe, anticipating.

As they moved deeper into the caverns, he stopped.  Ahead he could hear the snuffling and growling of the beasts within.  He looked at her and smiled.

She had her hand on her hips and smiled back.  Then, she moved closer to him, stretched up to raise his helm a bit and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

"Go get them," she whispered.  She gestured and winked out of sight.

[vlowe72]

In the time before

There is nothing about a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly.

24 years ago....

She struck him across the face.  Blake Addams accepted the stinging blow, knowing that it was but the first of more pain to come.

"You bastard!" she screamed at him.  "How long has this been going on?  Since we got married?  What kind of cold hearted... insensitive..."  Her words trailed off and she collapsed into a chair, sobbing.

"It just happened, Angela.  I did not intend for you to find out, but now I have no choice.  A child is involved."

She looked at him in horror.  "A child?  You got the whore pregnant?"

He winced.  "It wasn't like that.  We just... fell for each other.  She made me... happy."  He shook his head.  "I can't explain it, and I don't expect you to understand.  Now we just have to decide what we're going to do about the baby."

"Why do we have to do anything?  Let the whore take care of her own brat."

He sighed heavily  "She can't because, she's dead."

She looked up at him.  "What?"

"The childbirth was too much for her and she died.  The boy child lives, however and needs a home."

She shook her head violently.  "Oh no no no No!  I'm not bringing that bastard son of yours into my house, where I have to look at it every day reminding me that I have a husband who can't keep his hands off other women.  Surely he has other relatives, someone who will actually care about him!"

"There is no one.  And even if there were, if we let them know, they might could make a claim on the family inheritance.  No, the safest course is to pretend that he is our own son."

She stared daggers at him and he knelt to look directly at her.  "Hate me, if you want Angela.  I deserve it.  But the baby has done nothing.  He needs our help."

She pushed away from him and looked out the window for a long time, staring down at the streets of Waterdeep.  Her shoulders slumped and she nodded.

"All right.  I'll play your game.  But don't expect me to love the little brat.  I have five children already.  He should count himself fortunate that we let him live."


***

The nurse held the child out to her and she instinctively stepped back.  "No, I don't want to hold it."

Blake put a hand on her shoulder.  "You have to at least get used to pretending to be his mother.  Otherwise, people will talk."

"They'll talk anyway.  Look."  She grabbed the end of her own raven colored hair and gestured at the baby's short blond covered head.  "It's got its whore of a mother's looks.  No one will believe that we sired him."

Then she looked into the blue eyes of the child and her maternal instinct took over.  Her heart melted just a bit, and she sighed.  "Very well."  She held out her arms.  "Does he have a name?"

"I thought we'd give him your grandfather's name.  I think the old man would be happy about that."

She winced.  "You really want to call him by that name?  He'll have enough problems without having to deal with that."

"I think that the last name would be enough to cancel out any difficulties with the first."

"Very well."  She looked into the eyes of her husband and told him with a look that she would never ever forgive him for this.  She looked back down at the baby in her arms.

"Welcome to Faerun, Gert Addams," she said with just a hint of sarcasm.

[vlowe72]

In the time before (continued)

12 years ago...

Gert had become quite adept at not being noticed.  Calling attention to himself usually earned him a tongue lashing, a biting comment, or sometimes worse.  He quickly learned that if he wanted peace, he had to fade into the background; become part of the furniture.  If they grew bored, his brothers and sisters still sought him out, for their torments, but he could escape them.

So usually during his free time, he sought refuge outside the city gates.  A cemetery was an unusual place for a child to play, which was precisely why he came here.  No one would think to look for him.  He spotted an old rusty axe on the ground, apparently forgotten by a groundskeeper.  He picked it up and swung it into a nearby tree with a satisfying thunk.

"Does that tree threaten you, good sir?  Then stand aside while I strike it down!"

Gert whirled around, his heart racing.  A man, sword drawn, stood behind the headstones.  He had a short black beard and his mouth was drawn in a mock frown, but his eyes twinkled.

The axe fell from his fingers and he took a step, ready to run towards the city.  The man smiled and lowered his sword.  "I'm sorry, young sir.  A jest is all."  He gestured with his free hand.  "What's your name, son?"

Gert's throat locked up.  "Er..." was all he could manage.

The bearded man raised an eyebrow and crouched down to his knees, trying to appear as non threatening as possible.  "I'm not going to hurt you.  It's all right."  He looked the young boy up and down.  "How old are you?"

"E..e..leven, sir."

"Really?  You're quite tall for your age.  Broad shouldered too.  I bet you a quite a terror on the sports field."  Gert shook his head.

The man shrugged and held out his hand.  "Well, sports aren't for everyone I suppose.  My name is Sir Raytan."

Carefully, gingerly, as though he were reaching out for a live snake, Gert shook the man's hand.  "G.. Gert A.. Addams."  He saw a symbol dangling from Raytan's neck; a sun shaped golden disc tinged with hints of rose.  "You serve the Morninglord."

Raytan blinked.  "Very good.  I am indeed a knight of Lathander.  Do you follow our faith?"

Gert shrugged.  "I'm not sure what faith our family follows.  My mother h.. has a few Lathander books in the library, and a couple of holy items, but I've only been to the temple once."  His face was turning red and he looked away.

"Gert look at me."  The boy turned his head back and with great effort, met Raytan's serious gaze.  "When it comes to matters of faith, what matters is what you believe in here."  He pointed at Gert's chest.  "Eventually, you will have to decide for yourself what path you will follow.  Some people spend their whole lives and never quite commit to anything, and as a consequence, they are tossed to and fro by the latest fads and fashions."

"It is far better to decide whom you will serve, and under whose banner you will fight.  Just... think on that."

He stood up and tossed the boys hair.  "If you ever find yourself near the Temple, stop in and ask for me.  I can show you where we train and some of our weapons.  Boys usually like that sort of thing."

"D... do you have horses?"

He laughed.  "Indeed we do.  Some of the finest in all Faerun, but they are horses of war, so don't expect to be able to ride them.  Unless..."  He tossed Gert a wink.  "... you decide to become a knight."

"I.... I'll try."

"Very good.  I'll look for you then.  Fare thee well, Sir Gert."  He waved and started walking away.

Gert ducked down behind a tree and closed his eyes.  His heart was beating rapidly, and he took deep breaths.  He had not had an adult speak so many words to him in all his life.  Especially words that were respectful, and not tinged with scorn or outright hatred.

He picked up the axe again and swung it in a full circle.  The weight of it felt good in his hands.

Knight.  For the first time in a long while, Gert smiled.

[vlowe72]

Mother do you think they'll like this song...

5 years ago...

Part of him wanted to just leave, without saying a word.  The scorn and ridicule he would receive from his family, especially now that he wore the emblem of Lathander and his dress chainmail would only increase the difficulty.  It did not help that the colors of the knights of Lathander tended towards yellow and rose; the colors of the Dawn, but not "manly" colors in the opinion of his two brothers.

Just go, he said to himself.  You don't owe them a goodbye.

He shook his head.  Courtesy should always be extended, even to one's enemies, the Code taught. 

He knocked on the door three times and opened it without waiting for an answer.  His mother sat by the window, looking out at the city, and his father was at the desk looking over some records.  Both of them looked up, their eyes widened in surprise.

"I... I take my vows at dawn.  Since I don't expect to see you there, and I won't be returning here, I've come to take my leave of you."

"So you're really going to do it," his mother said.  "Become a common soldier and drag our family name through the blood and guts on the battlefield.  Make a fool of yourself dressed in shiny armor, while you parade down the streets.  Or maybe..."  She sniffed.  "You'll be hitting us up for money for the sun worshipers."

"I'm not going to have this argument with you Mother.  I am of age, and you cannot stop me."

"Oh I could stop you.  One letter to certain people, and you'd be back here so fast, your helmet would blow off.  The truth is, I don't care enough to put forth the effort.  Do what you will."  She turned back to the window.

He sighed, looked to his right and extended his hand.  "Goodbye, Father."

Blake Addams had a strange look, one he had never seen before, at least when he was looking at Gert.  Regret?  Pity?  It didn't matter.  It was far too late to mend things now.  His father seemed to realize it too, as he sighed and grasped his son's hand.  "Be safe, son."

"You as well, Father."  He turned to the window.  "Mother?" 

Silence.  The little boy in the center of him wanted to rush over and beg her to hug him.  To ask the question that had plagued him all his life.  Mother, what did I do to make you hate me?  But he would never know the answer.

Suddenly angry, he turned and made his way to the front door of the mansion, knowing that he would never return to this place.  He was alone now, and that was the way he preferred it. 

[vlowe72]

Even the smallest child has a concept of death.  It's what happens when the monsters get you.


Two years ago...

The girl looked to be about eleven.  Her drab colored dress was torn and there was a look of wide eyed panic on her face.  She stumbled from the trees and collapsed to the ground.

"Help me!" she cried.  "They're after me!"

Gert glanced behind him.  He saw the comforting glow of the campfire less than a dozen yards away, where three other Knights and two clerics lay sleeping.  He went over to the girl and touched her arm.  "Don't worry.  Our campsite is strongly warded; they won't be able to get you there."

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes.  Her eyes... they were... He was drowning in her gaze, frozen, unable to move.  Dark coldness crept into his limbs.  Some ancient and terrible power had him in its grip, in the form of a preadolescent girl. An evil smile bloomed on her lips.

"Got you." she laughed.

She was in his mind, and he was held fast.  Like a child tearing open a present, she gleefully savaged his mind, shredding his defenses and laying every fear, hope and desire naked and exposed.  His will drained away and he stood still, slack-jawed and dumb.

"Now then," she giggled.  The child's laugh was high and musical, and the most terrifying thing he had ever heard.  "Be a good boy and go remove those nasty wards around your friends."  She looked at the symbol of Lathander at his neck, and her nose wrinkled in disgust.  "Get rid of that too."

He reached up and pulled the chain over his head and tossed it into the bushes.  He heard several large thumps as several forms dropped from the trees and stood next to the girl, hissing and flashing fangs.  Vampires.  Over a dozen of them, and he was at their mercy. 

Mutely he turned and walked towards the camp.  They were all still asleep, as it had been Gert's watch.  He looked down at the ground at four sun disks, one on each corner of the camp, casting a faint yellow glow.  Father Calador had spent over a half hour setting up the wards.  "These woods are haunted," he had said grimly. "And if we're going to spend the night, we'd best have the blessings of the Morning with us."

He was not a priest, but he had been trained in the Church.  He knew how the wards could be undone.  He raised his boot and stomped on one of the disks, crushing it.  Within moments, the glow faded.

Sir Raytan stirred and saw Gert standing there.  "Gert.. wh."

The undead fell upon them.  Most of the knights didn't have time to draw their weapons, or speak a prayer.  The creatures of the night tore into them like a pack of wolves, tearing, and slashing, and biting.  Blood spurted, limbs flailed, and his friends screamed and died.

He could not avert his gaze.  He could do nothing.  He had failed.  Their mission had ended in utter disaster. 

The girl did not join in the slaughter.  She merely watched, her eyes shining, like a girl at her first carnival.  He could feel her in his mind, an amused regard that relished his horror, fed on it.  While she was in his mind, he could see who she really was, despite her appearance.  She was ancient, older than the oldest elf.  She had walked Faerun for centuries, feeding off fear and building her power base. 

Despair flooded his soul.  He was going to die horribly, and right now that's exactly what he wanted to do.

She looked up at him and smiled sweetly.  "Oh, you're not going to die, Gert.  You're going to live for a little while."  She touched some of the blood that had spattered on him and licked her finger.  "Just long enough to go back and tell those sun worshipers what happens to those who hunt us."  She took his hand and turned it palm up, exposing his wrist.  She breathed deeply.  "Ah, such purity.  Even if I was going to kill you, it wouldn't be like that.  Your life nectar, young, virile, and innocent should be savored like a fine wine."

She released him just enough for him to struggle.  Her grip was iron, though and she pulled his wrist to her mouth.  He moaned , his eyes wild like a trapped animal.  Which was exactly what he was.

Cutting pain.  Then the sucking sounds.

It seemed to go on for years.  She finally dropped his arm and wiped his blood from her mouth, leaving a crimson stain on her sleeve.  She closed her eyes.  "Ahhhhhhh, that was good."

"Kill me now, leech" he managed to gasp.  "Or I will hunt you down and see you dragged staked and screaming into the sunlight.  I swear it."

She raised an eyebrow.  "The cow threatens the farmer?"  She shrugged.  "Vow what you will.  In fact I'd love it if you sought me out again.  I'm often in the mood for a special treat."  She licked her lips, then sighed.  "However, dawn comes soon and we have to be going.  I imagine today's festivities have worn you out, so I'll just have you take a little nap."

She grabbed his arm and licked his bleeding wrist.  Her tongue was the touch of a dead fish, but he could not even bring himself to shudder.    "Now that I've tasted you, you'll So be much easier to control.  And you liked it too.  I know you did."

Gods help him, she was right.  There had been pain, but pleasure as well.  He knew it was just her mind tricks, but part of him wanted to bare his neck for her, beg her to take more of him.

She waggled a finger at him.  "No more for you, my pet.  Afraid that I need you alive."  She walked away from him and turned, meeting his gaze.  She smiled again, her eyes glittering with evil intent. 

"See you in your dreams, Gert.  Have a good night."  She rolled through his mind again and he felt his consciousness slipping away.

Darkness.

They were dead.  All of them.  And it had been his doing.

He could not live with it.  He prayed to Lathander for the sweet release of death.  The pain struck at his soul, and his mind screamed in despair and horror.  He was unworthy of being a knight.  He was unworthy of life itself.

Something in his mind cracked and shattered.  Too much.  He had to lock it away.  He could not think of it.  Inside his mind, he boxed up the memories and shut them in the trunk.  Awake, he did not remember, but as promised, they came to him while he slept.  His dreams knew the truth, that he was a fraud, a pretender.

For days, he stumbled through the forest, unsure of where he was going, or even who he was, not caring. 

The mists were waiting for him.


On the edge of sleep, I heard voices behind the door
The known and the nameless, familiar and faceless
My angels and my demons at war

Which one will lose depends on what I choose
Or maybe which voice I ignore...
-Neil Peart

[vlowe72]

Muddy water filled his mouth and he came awake, choking and spitting.  He tried to see where he was, but he could only open one eye.  The other was swollen shut.

Light rain pattered on his back, as he struggled to his feet.  He was in the woods, somewhere, and it looked to be morning.  Was I laying unconscious on the ground all night, out in the open? he thought.  It was a miracle that he was still alive; that none of the night creatures had come upon him.

A sharp pain stabbed into his side and he staggered, dropping to his knees.  He had cracked a rib, from the feel of it.  Pain.  Every inch of his body throbbed, the worst of it being on his face.  He gingerly touched his nose and winced.  It was broken, most likely.

He welcomed the pain.  It distracted him from the darker pain.  The darkness of his memories.  Sera had forced him to remember, damn her!  He didn't want to!  Angrily, he forced himself to his feet and began to walk.  With each step, pain stabbed into his side, and he could feel a crunching in his sinuses.  It was agony to move, but he welcomed it.  As long as he concentrated on the pain, he didn't have to listen to the voice in his head.  The voice... of her.

He could hear her laughing at him, taunting him. Failure!  Fallen!  You were not strong enough to resist me!  You will bring death to all those around you!

 He had encountered her back in his old land, true, but who was to say that she hadn't followed him here, arrived through the mists as he had?  Even now, she could be out there, somewhere, stalking him.

By instinct, he made his way to the Outskirts.  Several people glanced at his battered face and the blood dried on the front of his shirt, but no one said anything.  After all, an injured person making his way to the Temple, was nothing remarkable.  He stopped at the temple entrance, where  he could find healing and the pain would diminish.  But that was something he deserved? 

He thought of the last words he had spoken to Sera.  If you're going to hit me, then draw your weapon and do it properly and end my wretched existence!   The cry of his heart.  He could not bear it anymore.  He had committed the ultimate blasphemy, for he had offered his life blood to Sera.  Worse, he had lost hope.  He was a stain on the church and he had to end it now.

He turned away from the church and headed for the woods.  His hand fell upon his hunting knife, the blade honed and razor sharp.  Yes, that would do.  One swift cut across his jugular, and he wouldn't have to think anymore.  They might find him but assume he had been killed by a monster, or assassin.  He smiled, for he had found a way out, a way where they couldn't get at him anymore.  He quickened his pace.

"Mr Gert?"

He looked over into a pair of soft emerald eyes, that were wide with concern.  Alyntha gently touched his cheek and he winced.

"You're hurt.  Here, let me get you fixed up."  She took his hand and led him to the stream and began to examine him critically.  "You don't seem to be cut anywhere."

"The blood is from my nose.  Sera Patton and I had a bit of a... disagreement."

She wrinkled her nose.  "That doesn't seem very nice.  Here, let's get you better."

As she cleaned up his wounds, he felt several emotions stirring within.  Shame.  She had been through a much more horrifying ordeal than him.  And hers had gone on for all of her early life.  She bore the scars, both physical and mental of her time of slavery.  And yet she still found it within herself to care for others, and to find joy in life.

And there were other feelings as well.  As he watched her, he saw her eyes, her hair, her body and felt... desire.  No, more than that.  He wanted to feel more of her touch and bring an end to her pain as she was healing his own.  It was more than the simple desire of a man for a woman, it was...

Gods no.  He couldn't go down that path again.  His soul still carried the scars of the loss of Olivia.  Alyntha was young and innocent, and he couldn't drag her into the dark pit that was his life.  She deserved more than that.

But his traitor heart would not be denied.  He felt her touch, and the darkness lifted.  She hugged him, and shafts of sunlight broke through the dark clouds of his mind.  "I don't like to see you in pain, Mr Gert.  You get healed up at the temple, all right?"

All right, so you love her, he thought.  Just keep quiet about it and it will go away.  She deserves someone who can make her happy, not bring her sorrow.

He returned her hug, tightly, despite the sharp pain in his side.  He turned and limped towards the outskirts temple.  His face was still in agony, but he would heal.  And he would live for another day.  Because he... he wanted to be with her again.


Two days later....

She was sitting, staring into the fireplace, tears streaming down her face, and his heart ached for her.  Morticia had cut her with her words, and she had run into the basement.

"Alyntha?"

She looked up at him, eyes red.  "I don't know what to do anymore!  I try and try to understand, but people... like her call me fool and idiot.  Maybe they're right."

"Alyntha come here."

She scooted closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her.  She sobbed quietly on his shoulder.  He desperately searched his mind for a way to make her feel better, then he remember the rose.

Earlier, someone had been selling them in front of the Inn.  On impulse he had bought one, without knowing why he had.  Now, he reached into his pack and fished it out.  "I have something for you."  Awkwardly, he placed it in her hands.  She breathed in the scent and smiled at him.  "It smells lovely."

"There is a lot of ugliness in this world, Aly.  But things like that flower remind us that there is beauty too, if we only think to look for it."

She nodded, then cocked her head at him quizzically.  "What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, when you look at me, it's... different.  I don't know why.  Tell me."

"Er... "  Shut up!  Shut Up!  Shut up!  his mind screamed at him.  Don't tell her.  She can't know about it, it will only destroy her!  She can't love you!

A long silence.  She touched his hand.  "If it's a secret, I'm very good at keeping secrets."

She was barely six inches from his face.  Torn, he drew closer to her, but then pulled away.  No!  "It's ummm. well, difficult for me..."

She nodded.  "All right, if you don't want to tell me."  Her face fell and she turned back towards the dancing flames.

He could not take it anymore.  He had to tell her.  "Aly... my secret is..."

"Yes?"  She turned back to him.

"I..."  He could not get the words out.  Impulsively, he moved close to her, hesitated, then pressed his lips against hers.  Her eyes widened, but she did not pull away.  He closed his eyes and savored the soft touch of her, then drew away.

She was looking at him, with a look of surprise.  Her hand reached up and touched her lips.  Despair filled his heart, for he had given it away.  He had lost the one anchor for his sanity.  He might as well tell her everything.

"The secret is, that I have those... love feelings for you.  Not the friendship kind but the... What did you call them?  Butterfly feelings?"

She nodded slowly then looked down, running a hand across her stomach.  "Butterflies.  I've got them too."

"You do?"

She nodded again.  "A feeling like small butterflies dancing around inside of me."  She moved towards him and wrapped her arms around him.  "You put them there."

"I did?"  He was too stunned to speak more than that.  She smiled and moved her face up to his. 

"Yes you did.  It's like being afraid, but I know I'm not afraid of you.  I like this feeling."

He kissed her again, and this time she responded.  For the first time in his life, he was... loved.

[vlowe72]

"Please, Gert, don't hurt me!"  Alyntha begged.  Her eyes reflected terror, and betrayal as he approached her.  She struggled against her bonds, but they were too tight; she slumped back defeated.

The child who was not a child, giggled at his side.  "Oh, my pet, she is even more pure than you.  Her life nectar, will be Sooooo sweet.  Shall we share it together?"

Mutely he raised his knife.  It gleamed in the dim light, and he stepped towards Alyntha, a wicked smile on his face.  He bent down and brought it to her neck. She looked at him with terrified eyes.  "Please, my love, no..." she sobbed.

"Hold on, my pet," the child spoke up.  He stopped, just seconds away from cutting her throat.  "I have a better idea."  From behind her back she produced a coiled object and placed it in his hand.  Leather from the feel of it.

He held it in front of her.  Her eyes widened at the sight of the whip, too terrified to make a sound. 

"She won't bleed as quickly, but all the better to savor her.  And her terror will more than make up for it."

Grinning, he slowly uncoiled the whip in front of her.  She was bleached white, staring at him.  He could feel her terror, it was... exquisite.

He raised the whip over his head and smiled.  "Just hold still my love."  His arm came down.

She screamed.



Screaming.

It was not her voice, it was lower pitched.  It was... his own.

He sat up suddenly, almost falling out of the bed.  He was drenched with sweat, his heart was pounding.  Alyntha stirred next to him.  "Gert?  What is it?"

He could not answer, he was fighting too hard to get his breathing under control.  She kissed his arm and murmured soothingly to him.  "Another dream?"

He nodded. She hugged him tight and whispered into his ear.  "Just a dream, my love.  You're safe now."  He lay back down and she held him for a long while, stroking his hair, until she fell back asleep.  Sleep, however refused to come to him for a long time.

We're not safe now, he thought.  As long as I am weak, we will never be safe.  I'm endangering you, I can't trust myself.  He looked over at the one he cherished above all else, and tears formed in his eyes.  He could not bear the thought of leaving her, but the thought of his beloved falling into... her clutches was even more unbearable.

A knight of the Morninglord is a target for all the undead in this land.  They will seek me out, because of the danger I am to them, and the justice I represent.  Even if she is not here, there will be others.  Alyntha has already crossed Yves' path and undoubtedly they will find more.

But... it was not just his heart that would be shattered if he left.  She would not understand, she would think he had rejected her, no matter how he tried to explain.  But her heart would heal, and she would find another, and she would be safe.

Listen to your heart, Calor had told him.  He snorted.  Easy enough to say, when your heart is good.  His own, was weak and filled with uncertainty.  He stared at the ceiling, wrestling with his thoughts, for an hour.  He looked at her, breathing easily, a contented smile on her face.

No secrets, they had promised each other.  Perhaps he should just tell her his fears.  He shook his head.  She would insist that she would stay with him, no matter what.  But he did not deserve such devotion; he did not deserve for her to sacrifice herself for him.

As he finally drifted off to sleep, he resolved one thing.  One week.  He would make his decision in one week, and then both their lives would forever change.  One way or another.

[vlowe72]

Choices

On the edge of sleep, I was drifting for half the night
Anxious and restless, pressed down by the darkness
Bound up and wound up so tight


In the past week, he had watched Alyntha die a dozen times.  Drained by vampires, torn apart by werebeasts, tortured by any one of a hundred dark creatures.  Fates that he had faced himself, and shrugged off as part and parcel of the life he had chosen.  But his dreams showed him that he life was no longer his own.  She was at his side, and she wasn't going to leave him.  Whatever fate was his, she would share, unless....

Unless he put her from him.  Left her, told her to stay away.  It would shatter her, but she at least would survive.  He, of all people, knew that it was possible to live with, albeit barely, a broken heart.  He could go back to Cerridywn.  He didn't worry about her so much, because had seen how well she handled herself.  He... well he didn't love her exactly, but he helped ease the pain inside of him.  It would be a little bit of happiness, perhaps enough to keep him sane.

He walked along the path, hardly knowing where he was going, lost in thought.  He past through the farmlands, and saw one of the farmers, standing over something on the ground.  Curious, he went over to investigate.  The farmer leaned on his hoe, one boot on the head of a giant snake.  The reptile's head was severed from its body, although the tail still twitched.  He looked up as Gert approached.

"Damn thing got into the fields and took one of my cattle."  The farmer spit to one side.  "Good thing the wife and kids were inside or it might have gotten them too."

He helped the farmer check the fields for other snakes.  His hunter's eye spotted large wolf tracks in the ground, along with other things that he didn't want to mention, lest the farmer never venture outside his house again.

The farmer did not hunt undead.  He did not go out at night exploring dark crypts, staking vampires, or seeking ghosts in dark tombs.  He did not wear the symbol of the Morninglord and declare himself an enemy of the Night.  And yet... his loved ones could have been taken by this snake, or a wolf, or other things.  They were not completely safe.

We all owe the gods one death, Sir Raytan had once told him.  Once you realize that, then courage is easier to find.  No matter how you live your life, you will only die once.  Even the safest noble, hiding in his castle, will eventually have to pay that debt.  Best to spend that death in the pursuit of justice, than waste it.

Waste it.  He shook his head.  It had been stupid, to think that he could keep Alyntha safe, by leaving her.  She owed the gods a death, whether he was at her side or not.  When her time came, he should be with her.  As she should be with him.

His decision had been made.  He loved her, they should be together.  "We don't deal the deck down here, we just play the percentages..." he recalled someone saying.

He turned back towards the city gates, his pace quickening.  He remembered seeing a silver ring on display at Murnu's...


On the edge of sleep, I awoke to a sun so bright
Rested and fearless, cheered by your nearness
I knew which direction was right

The case had been tried by the jury inside
The choice between darkness and light...

[vlowe72]

If we're so much the same like I always hear, why such different fortunes and fates?
Some of us live in a cloud of fear, some live behind iron gates.
Some things can never be changed, some reasons will never come clear
It's somehow so badly arranged.  If we're so much the same like I always hear...


Cerridwen sat, her back against a tree, her arms wrapped around her knees.  Her eyes were sunken, her skin pale and wan.  He knew the look, for he had seen in the mirror on many days.  She stared ahead, lost, confused, angry, and alone, and he was the cause of it all.

He took a deep breath.  He had to do this.  He owed her that much.  "Hello, Cerridwen."

She looked up at him and her eyes narrowed.  Her hands hooked into claws and he braced himself, in case she launched her fire at him.  Instead, she only turned from him and looked ahead.  "Hello."  She pulled her hood back and he could see that her white hair was a tangle mess.  Guilt stabbed at him.  He had shattered her heart, a feeling he knew all too well, and he didn't know how to repair the damage.

He sat next to her, and they sat in silence for a while.  He cleared his throat and forced himself to speak.  "Er... listen I wanted to try to... explain."

She laughed bitterly.  "Oh, this ought to be good."

He nodded.  "I don't blame you for hating me.  I've handled this whole thing badly.  I'm as sorry as I can be, for I didn't mean to hurt... you."  His voice trailed off, as even he could hear the hollowness of his own words.  Mutely he put a hand on her shoulder.

Her hand shot up and her fingernails sliced across the back of his hand.  "Don't you dare touch me, you bastard!" she hissed.  He pulled his hand away and turned his hand over.  She had gouged four furrows into his skin, and they were already bleeding. 

"You, of all people, I thought I could trust!  You're supposed to be a knight, all holy and righteous and all that nonsense.  All lies!  I gave you my love, and look what it got me!"  She drew in a breath through her teeth and closed her eyes.  "Alyntha, the slave girl.  You've got to be kidding me.  Why is she better?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with being better or worse.  I had feelings for you.  Maybe even some kind of love, but Alyntha... she completes me.  She's half of my soul and she helps heal the deep wounds in my heart.  She..."

"Oh shut up, damn you!  Spare me your cliches.  You're just a liar and a cheat, like every other man around here.  But you're worse, because you dress up in fancy armor and pretend to be better than everyone else!  Well, I hope that Alyntha finds out the truth about you someday and you break her heart as much as you've broken mine!"  She jumped to her feet and stabbed at the air in front of him with her finger. 

"And as for you, I hope you burn in the deepest layer in the Abyss!  Do me a favor and go die, will you?"  She stalked off in a whirl of black robes.

A while ago, he had remarked to Trillian that the elf had seemed to leave a trail of angry women behind him.  Well, now it seems that he had started his own trail.  He put his head in his hands, for the black fog had returned, after he had thought it banished from him.  The trouble was, she was right.  He was a faker.  He was not any more holy than the most cold-hearted cad at the Prancing Nymph, using women and throwing them away.  Is that what he would end up doing to Alyntha?

The thought of hurting his beloved, filled him with dread, but he hadn't intended to hurt Cerridwen either.  He had the worst of it, for he had used her to assuage his own hurt, but did not have the inner coldness to not feel guilty about it.

"Punish me," he whispered to the Fates.  "I deserve the pain, but Cerridwen doesn't.  Help her to find the happiness she deserves.  Don't let my own clumsiness destroy her."

The Fates had no answer.  He sat in the darkness all night, alone with his guilt.

[vlowe72]

Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone.
- C. S. Lewis



Lyndis showed him the grave, and then wisely retreated to let him grieve in silence.  He collapsed to his knees and stared at the freshly turned earth, piled with flowers; a stark mute testimony to the reality.  She was gone... forever.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel.  Alyntha had replaced her in his heart, but she... she had been his first, and she had been his friend.  His eyes stung and his heart ached as sadness threatened to overwhelm him.  Here, on what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

He pushed aside the flowers so he could touch the bare earth.  There were so many blooms that he had to smile, despite the tears on his face.  "You were so loved.  You brought so much happiness and joy to so many people."  He laid the single red rose that he had brought down on to the grave.  "I loved you, you know.  You may not have believed it, but I did.  You gave me happiness, just enough to keep me going until Aly came along.  Even now, all I wanted was for you to be happy."

He stood and walked over to the gravestone and leaned over it, his fingers tracing over the letters of her name.  "I hope that... you can now feel the love that you couldn't before."  He kissed the cold stone.  "Rest now.  I know you'd want us to continue the wedding, so I'll try to find a smile somewhere.  For Aly's sake."

He slowly made his way out of the cemetery.  Darkness was falling and he had a lot to do before the dawn.


Dawn came and he saw her.  She was a vision in gold, and everything else fell away.  He watched her come towards him, a smile on her face, and he took her hands, afraid that she would disappear like in a dream.

Don't let go, she mouthed at him.

Never he mouthed back.

They spoke their vows and exchanged the blessed rings.  Ciaran, having somehow found the strength to perform at their wedding, began the processional music.  He had to admit, that the man was very talented.  Somehow he was coaxing the sound of two violins out of his one.

They turned and greeted their friends for the first time as husband and wife.  Applause and cheers and they both smiled, both at them, and each other.  Ciaran began a slow waltz and the couple held each other, moving gently to the music.  The bard then switched to a harp while the other violin continued....

He frowned.  He was no musician, but he was pretty sure that one could not make violin music with a harp.  He looked over to where Ciaran stood.  His fingers danced lightly over the strings, and the violin... next to him from somewhere. 

He continued to stare at the empty spot.  He thought he caught a glimpse of red hair and a flash of a smile, but it might have been the sunlight on the water.  Maybe, or maybe not.  He leaned close to the ear of his bride and whispered.  "She's here."

Alyntha nodded.  "I hear it.  She wanted you happy.  She wanted both of us happy."

He held her close and sighed.  "I am.  I pray that she can be happy, wherever she is."

The violin continued for a moment, then faded.  He looked up at the sky and smiled.  "Thank you Olivia.  Be well."

The wind answered, in a sound suspiciously like a laugh.


If you listen to the wind, you can hear me again
Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song
High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves
Listen to the wind and I'll send you my love
-Hayley Westenra

[vlowe72]

"Hello, Gert," she said softly.  The knight turned and saw her wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination.  She brushed a strand of white hair away from her eyes and gave him a coy smile, a look that heated his blood.  She walked past him slowly, letting him take a long look.  She went to the bar and ordered whiskey and brought it to his table.  Without asking permission, she sat down, poured herself a glass and downed it.

She had brought two glasses and she filled them both, pushing one towards him.  Automatically, he reached for one and started to lift it to his lips, but then he stopped himself and pushed it back towards her.  "You know I don't do that anymore."

"Oh yes you do," she whispered.  "Just give it time.  I know you, Gert.  You can't say no to your impulses."  She leaned forward, allowing him a look down the front of her dress. 

He swallowed hard.  "J... just what in the Nine Hells do you think you're doing?"

She looked at him with exaggerated wide-eyed innocence.  "Me?  I'm just having a conversation with an old friend."  She traced a finger along his arm and stopped to play with the gold band on his finger.  "So, you're married now?"

"You know I am."  The tavern was almost deserted, but Bianca and a few others were watching the exchange and whispering among themselves.  He wanted to stand up and shout "No, this isn't what it looks like!" but he was paralyzed.  She moved up to play with the hairs on his arm, smiling at the effect she was having on him.

"You don't love her.  You might think you do, but she's just your latest playtoy.  You're just looking for someone to use for a while.  That's all right, I can deal with that.  Olivia's gone, so When you get tired of your slave girl and toss her aside, I'll be waiting.  I'll take care of you, like before."

He closed his eyes and covered them with his hands.  "Go away.  We're done.  I thought that maybe we could maintain a friendship, but I won't let you destroy me."

"Not me."  She got up and moved over to his side of of the table and brushed her lips against his ear.  "You're going to destroy yourself.  And Alyntha and everyone else around you.  Just like you destroyed me."  She giggled softly.  "Seducing you, Gert is the easiest task in the world.  You can't say no to a pretty face.  If we could get all the females you've used in this room, we could throw quite a party.  You forget that you've shared your heart with me, and I know how to get at you.  I'll see to it that you break her heart, and she'll join our ranks."

"Even now," she kissed his ear.  "you're fighting it hard.  You want me, and I'm willing.  You might tell me no tonight, but forever is a long time.  You'll grow tired of that red-headed idiot, and eventually you'll give in.  I can wait a long time."

She left him in a swirl of rustling silk.  With trembling hands he reached for the glass and downed it.  The fiery liquid burned his throat, but it numbed him and kept him from falling into complete madness.

"You see?" she spoke from the door, a smirk on her face.  "'No', is a word unknown to you."  Her laughter echoed through the inn.

Damn this place!  he thought.  It seems as if as soon as it saw a person happy it spoke up like a stern headmaster.  "None of that here!"  and worked to bring that person back to a proper state of misery and despair.

Well the land had nothing to worry about tonight.  Everything had come full circle.  He was alone, drinking, and despairing.
 

[vlowe72]

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
- Winston Churchill


Early Dawn - Southern Woods

He scarcely felt the biting cold, though he was naked from the waist up.  Panting, heavily, he swung his axe around, careful not to let its weight overbalance him.  Again and again, he drilled through the attack forms... Swing, shield up, head down, he told himself.  He had been doing these exercises for years, and the movements were automatic, leaving enough of his mind to wander.

The spawn in the Sullen woods, surrounding him, staking and draining his lifeless body.  Only the aid of Soren and the miracle wrought by Warden Nell had allowed him to return.

Slash, the axe cut angrily through the air.

The skeletal champions, surrounding him and bringing him down.  Lyndis had had to rescue him that time.

Swish.  Another cut with more force...

The great snow beast, shrugging off his cuts and tearing into his flesh.  Once again, he owed his life to Lyndis' timely intervention.

Thunk!  The axe bit into the trunk of the tree.  Panting, he let go and flexed his fingers.  His muscles tingled from the exertion.  He was exhausted, and the day had barely begun. 

I have to get better, he thought.  I have to be able to defend her.  They will hunt her, because she is of the Dawn, and I have to be strong enough to keep her safe.

Every failure replayed again and again through his mind.  Up until now, he had not cared much about his own life, but Alyntha... He had to be her shield, her steel blade against the night.  But his fighting technique was... inadequate somehow.  The dark things kept finding holes in his defenses and striking at him.  Somehow, he had to plug those holes. 

He thought back to his first lessons in axe fighting.  Dattit Flintmaster, the dwarven master had eyed his new pupil who stood nearly twice as tall as most of his students, with typical Dwarvish disdain.  As most of the knights were masters of the sword, it fell to the dwarf to teach the young man in this unorthodox weapon, so he consented and began his lessons.

"Axe is fer killin' not fightin.'  If ye be exchangin' blows, yer doin' it wrong.  Make 'im dead before he can land a blow.  Smash it down, smash it as hard as you can.  Cleave it right through 'is skull.  First strike should be the last, fer the best defense is'n a dead enemy."  He had drilled the young knight over and over until he could hold his own with any of the other squire swordsman.

But it was not enough.  He examine the axe embedded in the tree, buried almost halfway along the blade.  A killing blow indeed, but was it enough?  He tugged the axe out and began the exercise again, despite the screams of protest from his legs, arms and back.  Don't think at all.  Just do.  Become better.  Be her knight.


The Crypts...

It was the place of darkness.  The undead concentrated here, drawn by some force they had yet to discover.  And this time, there was something fueling them, giving them strength.  His wife stood at his side, nervous, but determined as she gripped her staff.

"I'm going to draw them in.  Stay here." he told her.  She nodded and watched him step into the corridor, worry etched on her face.

They were waiting for him.  As one, they came, axes upraised.  It was the enhanced skeletons, the ones that moved and fought like soldiers.  The ones that had felled him once before.  He darted to this side, to draw them away from her.
Five more emerged, the clacking of their bones echoing in the darkness.  They made no sound, no war cry, just came at him, weapons drawn.  Gods, they were fast!  One got behind him, and struck, its axe blade rebounding off his armor.  He was surrounded, but for now they ignored Alyntha, all concentrating on him, but he knew that would soon change.

"Aly, get out of here!  Go get help!"

"I... Gert, they're surrounding you!"  She launched an arrow at them, and one looked up and focused its red glowing eyes on his beloved.

"ALY!  FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, GET OUT!

Her sobs rebounded off the stone walls.  "I love you!"  He heard the door slam behind her and he smiled.  She was safe.

The skeletons had paused in their assault, maybe confused by the sound of the door.  He took advantage of the lull to move up against the wall to protect his back.  He raised his axe and shield.

"All right, you spawn of darkness," he muttered.  "Let's dance."



The first thing he saw was her emerald eyes shining in the dim light.  She clung to him tears streaming down her face as he drew in a ragged breath. 

"I... thought... they killed you!" she wailed and flung herself across him.  He held her close and let her cry on his shoulder.  He looked up and saw Soren and Rane standing in front of a pile of bones, rusted axes and helmets.  He let his head fall back and he looked at the ceiling.  He had failed again.  Once again, his friends had had to rescue him.  He held her tighter and closed his eyes; mentally flagellating himself for his failure.

Soren offered him a hand and he rose to his feet.  "Thank you both," he said to the knight, pasting a smile on his face.  Soren was his friend, but... he represented everything that Gert was not.  Confident, resolute, and skilled.  He had smashed through the skeleton warriors and had not a scratch to show for it.  Beside him, Gert was constantly reminded of his own failures.

They left him and went deeper into the crypts to clear out the remaining undead.  He helped his wife to her feet and she held him tightly all the way back to the surface, afraid to let him go.

Hally greeted them outside the temple.  "Where's my brother?"  she demanded.

"Finishing the task, that I could not," Gert muttered.  They both looked at him oddly, but before they could ask, Alyntha staggered and put a hand to her mouth.

"Feeling... sick," she said and shook her head.  "That place makes my stomach turn."

- To be continued...

[vlowe72]

Alyntha had been sick for many days.  Beside himself with worry, and fearing that his beloved had been cursed by the sickness that the dark creatures could inflict, he had called upon the blessings of the Dawn to heal his wife.  But still, she could eat little and felt tired.  Neither of the young couple had a clue of the true reasons of her illness, until Hally had set them straight.

They had plied the poor woman with questions, like two children.  Which, in matters such as this, they were.  They both had only the vaguest idea about such things and each answer from Hally only spawned ten more questions.  They talked late into the night until an exhausted Hally begged them to let her go to bed.  "You've got nine months to learn.  No need to have it all thrown at you at once."

She was asleep in his arms that night, but the thoughts whirled in his head too quickly to let him sleep.   He looked down at her and gently touched her stomach in wonder.

A child, he thought.  She bears our child.  The words sounded like a foreign language.  Family had always been a distasteful concept to him, so he had rarely dwelled on the possibility.  Yet now, here it was, sleeping beside him.

"This little one will be so loved," he whispered to her sleeping form.  "As I love your mother, so shall I love you, child of mine."  Then his eyes took on a grim look and he clenched his teeth.

"And I will protect you both; this I swear.  The darkness will not have you.  I will stand before the greatest fiend in the lowest pit of Nessus to keep you safe.

He spoke the words, but he did not feel the confidence behind them.  Inside, he doubted and despaired.  He could not tell his wife what he was feeling; that he was thrilled in the prospect of a son or daughter, but his fears had doubled.  He had two to protect, and he couldn't even protect himself.  Alyntha was caught up in the whirlwind of her own feelings and he had no desire to let her know that her husband was falling apart inside.

So before dawn, while his wife still slept, he went to the only other person that he could trust to keep his secrets.

"She thinks that I don't want the child, " he said slowly.  "It's not true.  I want her to be the mother of my children, but... This burden may be too much.  I don't feel ready for it."  He sighed.  "So much is involved.  So many things can go wrong.  There is much pain and there's nothing I can do about it."

He listened for a moment.  "I love her of course.  With everything that is in me.  I will love our child just as much... But is love enough?  Is that all that's required?"

Silence.

He nodded.  "It will have to be.  There is... nothing else I can do.  Without her, I am... lost."

He stood up.  "Anyway thanks for listening."  He looked down at her and sighed.  "I miss you.  Somehow the land is less... bright without you in it."

The wind picked up and he shivered.  Something else was nagging at him, something... dark and... wrong.  He could not pinpoint it, but he felt very sad and... afraid.  He shook his head.  Sitting by a grave in the early morning darkness would make anyone melancholy.

"I'll see you later, Olivia.  Be well." 

[vlowe72]

Eighteen years ago...

His sister held his stuffed bear in front of him, just out of reach, a cruel smirk on his face.  He could see what was coming and he looked away, tears stinging his eyes.  One of her arms jerked, there was a ripping sound and the dismembered bear dropped in front of him.

A new emotion flooded into him.  Rage.  He leaped to his feet, fists doubled up.  His sister's eyes widened as she just now realized that the five year old boy was almost as big as she was.  He was no longer crying, he had murder in his eyes.  For the first time, she was afraid of him and it made him feel good.

He shoved her and she stumbled backwards, hitting her head.  Immediately she started bawling and he heard the thumping steps of the nanny coming towards them.  Typical.  He'd been crying and screaming all morning and summarily ignored, but his brat of a sister makes one whimper and they all come running.

He tried not to cry out as the leather strap bit into his flesh, but he was still too young for that type of stoicism.  He cried and begged, knowing all the while that such actions were pointless.

"Now... what I am trying to teach you boy?"  his father barked at him.

"I... I don't know, sir," he whimpered.

Crack!  "Never strike a girl, you little snot!  You hit her again and I take ten times the amount out of your hide!"

"But she..." he feebly protested.

Crack!  "NEVER HIT A GIRL!"



The first time he saw Magdalena, he had thought about inquiring about where she had gotten the purple colored dress, as it would have made a good gift for Alyntha.  He smiled and shook his head.  Buying clothes for his wife was a fools errand, as soon her size requirements would change almost daily.  Not that he would ever say as much, for such remarks would probably get him clouted on the side of his head with her staff. 

The woman glided by their table with an unnatural silence and looked at them both, like a farmer sizing up livestock.  She spoke in a low voice.  "How are your children doing?"

"Er... quite all right.  Thank you for asking."

She nodded.  "Better keep them... safe."  She glided towards the front door.  He looked at his wife who seemed as confused as he was.  "Friend of yours?"

Alyntha shook her head.  "Never seen her before.  How did she know about... the little ones?"

Hally was arguing with the woman and he saw the twitch in her fingers that indicated that she was on the verge of incinerating someone.  He caught the purple clothed woman's name... Magdalena, as the argument moved outside of the inn.  He sighed.  "We'd better go make sure that Hally doesn't disintegrate someone and get arrested."

The two were some distance apart, exchanging heated words.  He walked by and murmured.  "No magic, Hally.  She's not worth the trouble."

The young woman spoke through clenched teeth.  "She's a vampire."

He turned to Magdalena and walked towards her.  He drew his axe and shield, and the woman raised an eyebrow.  "Don't meddle in things that don't concern you." She smiled and looked over at Alyntha.  "Such would be very, very bad for your little ones."

He gripped his axe, white knuckled.  In a voice low and dangerous he forced words out of his throat.  "Is... that a threat?"

"A warning, sun cultist."

They faced each other in silence. I should drop her now, he thought.  She's threatened my family and I have to keep them safe. 

But he could not do it.  He was not sure of what she was... and to simply murder someone on a public street over words was beyond him.  He looked up at the brightening sky.

"Dawn comes, leech.  Shall we greet it together then?  I'd enjoy that immensely."

She looked up and a look of panic flashed across her face.  "Another time, then, sun cultist."  A wisp of fog, and she was gone.

[vlowe72]

The surest road to Hell is a gradual one — a gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones,  without signposts.
-The Screwtape Letters


In the village of Barovia, they had learned of Olivia's true fate and why.  Finally he had the answer to the question that had plagued him for so long. 

And he would have given anything to remain ignorant.

In their lodgings at the Blood of the Vine, his wife and he clung to each other and wept until they had no more tears to shed.  He was grateful for her love, for he might have gone quite mad without her to support him.  Or worse... he might have gone the road that Olivia had taken.

Alyntha was asleep, the tears still wet upon her face.  He was exhausted and longed to be asleep beside her, but the grief in his heart, scars that had thought healed, had been ripped open and bled anew.  The pain would not allow him rest.  He got up in the early morning and stared out at the darkened streets.

"I know now why you could not love," he spoke to the darkness.  "A great tragedy indeed, for if there was anyone in the world who deserved to love and be loved, it was you.  But this was not the way.  Now your beauty, both inside and out has been snuffed out forever.  Only a shallow copy remains, perverted and evil."

He choked, his shoulders heaving.  "I have to find you now, or rather find the thing that masquerades as you.  It is out there, and I must find it, and destroy it. But I don't k..know... if I can."

Pictures assaulted his mind.  Driving the stake between her breasts, while she screamed and pleaded with him.  Pulling aside her beautiful hair and slicing off her head, putting out the bright light in her eyes.  No.... no...  He pressed his knuckles into his eyes as if to drive the hateful images from his brain.  He had done it before, to others and had no qualms about it for he saw them as monsters to be destroyed.  But if it wore the face of someone he cared about?

"Why... oh why, Olivia?  The price was not worth it.  We could have found another way."

Two still small voices argued within him.  He would not have dared to acknowledged the conflict that raged within him.  To a Lightcarrier, there is no conflict.  There is no question.  The Undead must be destroyed... yet...

She lives!

She does not live!  She is a foul thing, a perversion!

She can love again!

Those things don't love!  To them you are only cattle!  And what of Alyntha?  And your children?

I'm not going to... be with her!  I just want to see her again!  She's my friend.

Bah!  She is your enemy.  You were not trained to show mercy to them!  Look at what happened with Aran! The enemy deserves no mercy!  The skeletons in the crypts... have you ever had a single hesitation in smashing them to bits?  A single particle of  sympathy for them?  It is no different.


Then the one thought that turned his insides to ice water.

Olivia is just like... her now.  She will take you and control you, and your nightmares will become real.  She'll feed on your beloved, and the little ones inside her.  Is that what you want?

Ahhh, such purity.


He remembered the sound of her voice... dripping with evil delight.  His little ones... the most pure and innocent of all.  Could there be a more tempting target for the leeches?

That did it for him.  He stood straight and stared at the coming dawn.  "My Lord, my life is yours.  It will break my heart, but I will do what is required.  I ask that you keep her safe, and the little ones safe, for if only they are with me, can I only bear this task.

And thus the hunt began...


I heard a voice cryin' in the deep,
"Come join me, baby, in my endless sleep."
- Jody Reynolds

[vlowe72]

He entered the sanctuary, his throat dry.  Ilie had been trying to reach him for days, but he had been been on an expedition ascending Mount Baratak.  He had almost died in the freezing cold and wanted nothing more than a cup of hot tea and a warm bed, when a lightcarrier arrived with the news that the priest wanted to see him.  The summoning had seemed quite important, and he felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

I'm in trouble, he thought. I've done something that reflects badly on the faith.  He's going to remove me as a Lightcarrier.

The old priest was sitting in his usual spot towards the front, his hands folded in contemplation.  Gert approached him reverently, but as he had long since learned, it is next to impossible to be stealthy in metal armor.  Ilie's eyes opened and regarded the young knight with a slight smile, though his gaze was troubled.

"Lightcarrier Gert... I've called for you for some time now, but alas, you were so hard to find these past few days.  Please sit."  Gert nodded, and settled onto the bench next to the old priest.  The wood groaned in protest under the weight of him and his armor, but finally decided to put up with the abuse for now.  "Ah... well... such is the life that I have chosen... I guess."

Ilie clapped his hands together and closed his eyes.  "My daughter informs me that Nonna has left us."

Gert sighed.  So the whispers were true.  "I'm sorry to hear that."

"All losses diminish us, for we are a whole.  However," He looked up and met the knight's blue eyes with a serious look.   "that is not why I called you here."  The priest looked at the symbol of the Morninglord on the altar as if gathering strength from it.

"My child, the Dawnbringers are busy indeed. Lizuca is constantly treating to the wounded, and my own obligations here have kept me distant from most of our Dawnchildren.  With Dawnbringer Ana gone, and with Kane... Kane..."  Ilie's voice faltered as he struggled for words.  "A new generation of Dawnchildren and Dawnbringers must come forth, Faithful Addams.  Indeed, they must."

His gaze turned back to meet Gert's  "That is why, you, who have been most faithful, who despite what challenges has come to our cult remained true.  You who have shown pity to Hope when the others have forgotten her.  Alas, poor Hope has been forsaken by all except you and your wife."

A flash of anger flared within Gert's chest.  The cult's treatment of his halfling friend was a sore point with him, though he would never share such thoughts with Ilie.  "Hope should not be abandoned, despite whatever mistakes she has made."  he muttered.

Ilie continued as if he had not spoken.  "That is why, you, who represent all the virtues of the Dawngiver, must accept the next challenge.  You must rise to become the next Dawnspear and lead the Dawnchildren in His ways."

It took several seconds for the meaning of the words to penetrate.  Shocked, the young knight's voice froze up and he could only manage to force out one word.  "M...me?"

"Yes, Faithful Addams. You.  You shall be tasked with instructing the Dawnchildren in the ways of the Morninglord and to always be their example.  You shall also head the Lightcarriers of all Vallaki. Be their leader and train all possible lightcarriers in His ways."

Lead all of them...?

Ilie gestured to the lightcarriers standing guard at the doorway.  "These are your men. and they need guidance. They are the shaft of the spear. You are the point."

"I am... overwhelmed... sir.  You honor me too much."

The priest shook his head.  "It is an honor you have earned.  You shall be equal to our priests, but you shall not command them, for they are your equals. However, all lightcarriers fall under your command as of now."

Ilie stood, his old joints creaking.  "Come, my son.  Bring the lance of our faith, and we shall instill the proper blessings."

Mutely, Gert followed.


He was taking a great risk, walking openly through the city in his armor and carrying the glowing lance.  All it would take is one sharp - eyed guard and he would be fined... or worse.  Yet for now, he was willing to take this risk.  He would not hide his light tonight, nor hide who he was.  Gert Addams... Dawnspear of the Morninglord.

A hiss to his left.  The rats that plagued the city's nights came at him.  He wrinkled his nose.  A shame to bloody such a holy weapon on vermin like that, but to drop it to the ground, in order to draw his axe, would be a greater dishonor.

The rats were dispatched without much effort and he turned to resume his journey.  Then a deeper sound hissed from the darkness.  Two glowing red eyes blinked at him from the alley.  "The nightsss is ourssss," the eyes spoke.

He turned and faced the neuri, spear flaring with golden light.  "The nights may be yours... rat, but I am of the Dawn, and you will not harm anyone again."

Huge claws raked at him.  Instinctively he raised empty shield hand, and the claws raked against him, sending sharp stabs of pain up his arm.  Gritting his teeth, growling like a neuri himself, he grabbed the butt of the lance and bashed it against the long snout.  The rat squealed and instinctively covered it's eyes against the sudden flare of light.  The point stabbed up through it's chin and the werebeast collapsed to the street.

Panting, he stood for a moment and looked at his new weapon.  He had trained long and hard on the axe, but... perhaps it was time for a new tactic.  The lance... the symbol of his office and a beacon of light.

"Justice comes... creatures of night!" he called to the empty streets.  "Not by man's laws, but by my hand!"

[vlowe72]

The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.
The Tempest


Alyntha was calm, looking at her through her one eye, hold a bloodstained cloth to the other socket.  He stared at her, shocked.  "Who... did this?"

"It was the price I had to pay, for the body of the guard, my love."  Her voice was weak but steady.  Pain showed in her one remaining eye, but she was strong, resolute, not regretting her decision.

A beast awakened within the depths of his soul.  It snarled and growled in his mind, and covered his vision with a red haze. 
You've spoken up for them.  You've given them sanctuary in the temple, the beast screamed at him. You allowed one of them to even join your order, for Dawn's sake.  And this is how they repay you?

His hand twisted around the handle of his axe.  Kill them.  Kill every last stinking one of them.  Let them die down here in this sewer like the filth they are.  They would take one of her emerald eyes that he loved so much.  He will take their hearts and shove it in their faces!  He will feed them their own entrails.  The sewers will run red with Caliban blood!  Kill them, Kill them...  KILL TH....

He stopped himself.  What was happening to him?  Rage was flooding unchecked through him.  He had never been so angry in his life.  Had a Caliban crossed his path just at the moment, he would have slain him.  Killed an innocent in cold blood, because of the actions of a few others.

He was becoming what he hated most. 

She touched his arm.  She knew his thoughts, knew the struggle within him.  "Gert... it was my choice.  What you're planning... please don't."  The beast screamed and demanded blood.  But he was the master, not it.  He forced himself to lower his axe. 

"Oh my love, I'm so sorry I let this happen."  She leaned up against him.  The pain on her face was breaking his heart.  "Take the body, and let's return to the surface and see if she can be revived."

They moved through the sewer.  The wererats smelled the blood and came for them, but he was grateful for the distraction.  He guarded the ladder as the rest of them ascended.  The giant rats surrounded him and he screamed and spun, cleaving two skulls with one blow.  Three more came to replace the fallen one.

You failed her.  You failed to protect her! the beast screamed at him.  In a blind rage, he cut and cut.  Rats dropped in a big pile around him; more came at him.  The beast demanded more death.  He killed a dozen.  More!  Two Dozen.  More death!  More bloodshed!  More Vengeance!  His scream of frustration and rage echoed throughout the sewers.

Panting he stopped.  The rats were all dead.  He eyed the passage that led back to the Drain.  It would be simple.  He could burst in there and cut down dozens, perhaps hundreds.  Valliki would be better off without them, perhaps he would even be hailed as a hero.  But it would be suicide.  There were deadly fighters and assassins among their numbers; if he started on that path, one of them would eventually kill him.  His wife would be alone, his children would never know their father.

That was the heart of the matter.  He wanted to die, to die fighting for his beloved, to atone for his failure.  But it is often easier to die for someone, than to live for them. Even had he possessed the ability and slaughtered everyone in the Drain, the beast would not be sated.  Which would be better for her?  To die avenging her, or to live and be by her side?  The answer was obvious.  She needed him now more than ever.  His little ones needed him.  Alive.

"Stay in your filthy hole then.  Don't come near her again, or I will cut you down." he muttered, as he turned and climbed up the ladder.

[vlowe72]

I got everything saved locally so I'm not too worried about it.  I do tend to follow everyone else though... so....

 

[vlowe72]

Port a Lucine...

The look on Alyntha's face as they walked through the city streets.  He had seen that look before, back in Waterdeep, on the faces of those who had come from the rural areas and beheld the City of Splendors for the first time.  Awestruck.  He could feel a bit of it himself, although Port a Lucine was much smaller and less spectacular than his home.  He had been living in the backwoods area of the Outskirts and the slums for a while, and he had almost forgotten what real opulence and splendor was like.

She was almost childlike in her delight, dashing from shop window to window, exclaiming over the treasures displayed.  Even a few of the nobles smiled at her enthusiasm.  His heart felt as though it would burst with love for her.  She was joy itself, personified, taking pleasure in the small delights of life that most people took for granted.

They sat in the park and watched the stars, his hand in hers, her head on his shoulder.  Another delight that he had forgotten about.  To be able to sit outside in the dark and gaze at the night sky, without worrying about some beast charging out of the shadows.  Amazing.

She looked up and sniffed the air and her smile grew wider.  "I smell food.  There must be a cafe' around here.  Maybe they'll have it.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  "It?"

She pouted a bit, but nodded.  "It.  C'mon, love."  She grabbed his hand and pulled them both to their feet and practically ran towards the food smell, dragging him behind her.

They did indeed have it, and he could not keep his laughter inside, as she squealed with delight.  She gave him a dirty look, sniffed with her nose in the air, as she carried her bowls to an empty table.  For several minutes, she spoke no word as she consumed her favorite treat in all the known multiverse.   Crème brûlée  Food of the Gods.

He was not hungry, but he sipped at one of the new beverages that he had developed a taste for here.  Ka Fee, it was called.    A pity he could not find the recipe to take back with him.

As they sat and ate, his gaze fell across the people moving past them.  He saw the city guards everywhere, but they didn't seem to do much, other than carry lanterns and look around.  Then he spotted the gate that led to the poorer section of the city, and his look darkened.  He had crossed over into that section once after dark, just wandering around exploring as he was prone to do.  Thinking he was another defenseless fop wandering into the wrong part of the city, he had been accosted by a gang of street toughs.  Unarmed, without his armor, he had barely survived.  He had not seen a hint of a guard in the whole area.

Guards stacked almost three deep in this area, but they can't afford to spare a few to keep the commoners safe, he thought bitterly.  The story is the same no matter where you go. 

He looked down at the new clothes he had bought with a hint of shame.  He looked at his wife, wearing her blue dress that he liked so much.  She smiled at him and licked the cream off her lips, deliberately sticking her tongue out at him.

A beautiful place, to be sure.  Much to dazzle the eyes and tempt the heart.  But... this is not our home, not where we are called to be.  Nothing wrong with having nice things and indulging ourselves once in a while, for part of the message of the Dawn is to spread joy and hope.  But there is a subtle line, that one must always watch for in a place like this.

The line is crossed when you begin to think yourself deserving of such things, by your own virtue.  You start to see them, not as gifts to be enjoyed, but as things you are owed by divine right.  Then you look at the others not as fortunate, as somehow... of less value than yourself.  Then you have crossed the line.

Never.  Never will I become that.  I love getting her presents, watching her eyes light up.  But she will love me, even if we never see this place again, and she never has another crème brûlée.  And I will love her.