Post by Generiz on Apr 24, 2010 12:47:33 GMT -5
He kept walking through the dark woods. He walked as he had always done, or so it had seemed. The road stretched out before him, seemingly endless. He halted a moment, his eyes squinting, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay before him, but all he could see was more darkness. He let out a hacking cough, and then wiped the back of his hand across his face. "Just keep going," he whispered to himself. He took another step, then another. After a time, he began picking up the pace again. As he walked, his mind trailed off. He thought of her, with her beautiful golden hair; it was weaved by Corellon himself he'd always told her. He thought of her hypnotizing, hazel eyes and her soft, welcoming voice. Her smile had brought him happiness. He then thought of her body going limp, the life leaving her eyes, as the ailment that had plagued her finally stole away from him his love. A tear began slowly crawling down his cheek as he walked. Even her family’s priest could do nothing to remove the disease from her. It was as though she had been allowing it to consume her. She was supposed to live thousands of years after him; he was a human after all. He stopped. That was long ago. She was gone now, dead. "And you're not far from it," he thought to himself. He ran his fingers through his brittle, grey hair, and kept walking.
As he slowly wandered along the path through the seemingly endless forest, taking in all that his old eyes could, the sounds of nature echoed all around him: The birds chirping, the leaves rustling against each other, the wind calmly blowing through the branches. As he roamed deeper into the woods, however, a new, unnatural sound came from far off into the distance. It was the sound of screaming. He ventured towards the screams, not frightened...only curious. He walked slowly, not wanting to attract any attention to himself. As he got closer, the screaming stopped. He saw a dim light in the near distance. He inched towards the light. He arrived at the edge of a small, man made clearing. He crouched down and quietly pushed a small branch aside to see what was going on. A man with dark brown hair, wearing leather armour and a long, dark cape, stood over a lifeless body, a large knife wound in its stomach. The man gave a low, sinister laugh. “Lord of the Forsaken Crypt,” he uttered, “accept this life from me. Give me that which I seek. Give me life. Give me everlasting life.” If he hadn’t known better, the old man watching would’ve thought that the dead body had a glow of faint red for a moment. He shook his head in disbelief. All of the sudden, a small *snap* came from under the old man’s foot. He’d stepped on a twig.
The dark-haired man turned sharply, looking directly into the eyes of the old man. “Give me one good reason why I should not kill you, old man,” He slowly stood up, fumbling for an answer. “I…I want to learn of this ritual you've just performed, of this…Lord of the Forsaken Crypt,” The dark-haired man stood there, contemplating, staring into his eyes of which there was no fear, only curiosity. “Lord Velsharoon has the power to grant immortal life unto all of his followers,” The old man’s eyes widened for a brief moment. She may have had to die…but why should he? Millions of thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts of greed…and power. “What is your name, old man?” He was silent for a second, but then he answered, “I am Poraiah. Tell me more.”
As he slowly wandered along the path through the seemingly endless forest, taking in all that his old eyes could, the sounds of nature echoed all around him: The birds chirping, the leaves rustling against each other, the wind calmly blowing through the branches. As he roamed deeper into the woods, however, a new, unnatural sound came from far off into the distance. It was the sound of screaming. He ventured towards the screams, not frightened...only curious. He walked slowly, not wanting to attract any attention to himself. As he got closer, the screaming stopped. He saw a dim light in the near distance. He inched towards the light. He arrived at the edge of a small, man made clearing. He crouched down and quietly pushed a small branch aside to see what was going on. A man with dark brown hair, wearing leather armour and a long, dark cape, stood over a lifeless body, a large knife wound in its stomach. The man gave a low, sinister laugh. “Lord of the Forsaken Crypt,” he uttered, “accept this life from me. Give me that which I seek. Give me life. Give me everlasting life.” If he hadn’t known better, the old man watching would’ve thought that the dead body had a glow of faint red for a moment. He shook his head in disbelief. All of the sudden, a small *snap* came from under the old man’s foot. He’d stepped on a twig.
The dark-haired man turned sharply, looking directly into the eyes of the old man. “Give me one good reason why I should not kill you, old man,” He slowly stood up, fumbling for an answer. “I…I want to learn of this ritual you've just performed, of this…Lord of the Forsaken Crypt,” The dark-haired man stood there, contemplating, staring into his eyes of which there was no fear, only curiosity. “Lord Velsharoon has the power to grant immortal life unto all of his followers,” The old man’s eyes widened for a brief moment. She may have had to die…but why should he? Millions of thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts of greed…and power. “What is your name, old man?” He was silent for a second, but then he answered, “I am Poraiah. Tell me more.”