The Rebirth of Ranan Hallomein

[Grozer]

Her hair was raven black, jade green eyes wide as a doe’s and twice as innocent, with fair skin soft as fine silk. Ranan, humbled each time thoughts of her entered his mind, couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have not only stumbled across such a beauty, but won her heart as well. Ranan not having dashing looks or the advantage of coming from a wealthy family, he was only an army priest after all, could only surmise that his sense of humor and strong wit had captivated and charmed her. Kira was always the center of attention. Her laugh and smile were contagious, the sheer joy and warmth came through infecting those around her with happiness and a love of life. Ranan was fortunate to know she was his and pride swelled within him.

It wouldn’t be long before Kira gave birth to their first child. Her swollen belly peeked out from beneath her shift and he couldn’t help but run his hands across it, fingers stroking from the sides before meeting at navel.

With a soft sigh, he began the early morning by laying a soft kiss on her forehead, before beginning the morning ritual of donning chain mail and preparing to join the troops. Kira beaming and looking into his eyes helped him get into the armor, not a word leaving her lips, her eyes saying everything. She wanted so badly for him to leave the Imperial Army of Unther and run away with her to a less troublesome place, but as he’d told her time and again, it simply wasn’t feasible. The nation of Unther was under siege from all directions and he was one of the few clerics left supporting the men. Land grabs by neighbors was a regular occurrence. Soon the once mighty empire would become a note in history if nothing was done. This was about honor and duty to serve his country, his father’s country. For many generations, there had always been a Hallomein defending the borders of Unther and with Anhur’s blessing another would be born soon. Kira had heard this all before, it went unsaid this time.

Instead, looking deep into her eyes, “You are with child, my love… if I leave these men you know the consequences. Who would help heal their injuries? The ranks of clerics are thinning and I cannot abandon them so easily in a time of war. Anhur would not approve. Even if we left, how would we survive? I can defend myself, but the baby and you?” So it was, she gave him a farewell kiss as usual and he left to meet his men.

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Bagrin was waiting for him outside the barracks, his usual malevolent smile smeared across his face like a handful of grease. Bagrin always put Ranan on edge; his habits were much more akin to a bandit rather than a soldier serving the Imperial Army. In fact, Ranan had caught Bagrin skulking about when he left Kira’s home more than once. The idea of this man even speaking to Kira caused the hairs along the back of Ranan’s neck to rise.

“Off t’visit yer little girly were ya?” Bagrin laughed a sound somewhere between a coughing asthmatic and the reaper. “What I’d do fer a slice o’ that pie!”

It happened so fast the slimy soldier had no time to react. Ranan crossed the several feet between the two of them and wrapped his hands about Bagrin’s throat, staring into his eyes. The anger and rage boiled through his blood. Before releasing, he commanded “Stay away from her!” and threw him to the ground. Bagrin coughed and gave that irritating laugh once more, one hand rubbing at the red marks on his throat, the other pushing himself up off the dirt road. Other soldiers noticed, and Ranan was hustled off to see the Oragoth.

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[Grozer]

Ranan’s fingers bled, piles of frayed rope lie beside him as he worked furiously to pull them apart thread by thread. Welts stood out on his bare back, a burning reminder of the whipping he’d received at Oragoth’s hand for his attack upon a fellow soldier. It wouldn’t be long before they set out once again, more patrols were necessary due to increased border activity. Bagrin had returned not so long ago, a small wave offered in Ranan’s direction. Ranan glared back, eyes glowing in rage.

Now, the slimy soldier made his way over to Ranan, a smug look on his face.

“Don’t ye be lookin’ mighty fine all bloodied up!” Bagrin leered down at him. Fat fingers slipped inside the dirty soldier’s vest and pulled something free, something shining golden in the light, a ring. Ranan’s eyes grew wide with recognition. “Just like that mighty fine piece of pie ye be havin’ there lad… I don’t think ye been treatin’ ‘er right lad!” [/b]Bagrin gave another of his irritating laughs, one eye bulging as he made a lewd gesture at Ranan.

That was all it took, a feeling like none Ranan had ever felt before descended upon him. His vision clouded over and he got to his feet as if he were made of lead. Bagrin wasn’t prepared for the fury unleashed upon him, pitiful cries for mercy spilling from his lips as Ranan beat him within an inch of his life. Even had it come, Anhur’s call would reach through the rage. Hands wrapped themselves about Ranan’s arms, pulling him back from Bagrin, only for him to break free and renew the attack. Bagrin went down under the hail of blows, his head colliding with the floor repeatedly as Ranan’s heavy boot slammed down into his scalp repeatedly. Something slammed into the back of Ranan’s skull and stars spread across his vision. The last thing he saw was the wood of the floor, pressed against his cheek before darkness closed in.

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He’d spent the night in jail. The patrol was ordered to stand down due to Bagrin’s murder and Ranan was due for execution come morning. Ranan couldn’t believe the turn his life had taken since the day before. One moment, he’d been full of happiness and anticipation for his child’s birth. Now he was awaiting execution, the mother of his child’s well-being a question foremost in his mind. How could Anhur abandon him so? Had he not served his god well?

Keys jangled in the lock to his cell and Ranan was forced to his feet. His vision had yet to return to normal, he wasn’t quite sure if that had to do with the strange feeling he’d experienced before or the blow he’d received to the back of his head. Regardless, red still clouded over his vision, simultaneously dulling some things, while making others stand out in contrast. Anything that could possibly be used as a weapon in some way stood out to his eyes, playful thoughts of what he could do with each dancing behind his eyes.

An unfamiliar whispering voice filled his head, “.... release your anger… you are just…”[/b] Looking around the other soldiers did not appear to react to the words, but the voice repeated “…release your anger...”[/b]

He was forced into a large meeting hall, before several soldiers and officers. Oragoth stood out amongst them all, the only armed man, a heavy cutlass held in one hand. With practiced ease, his captors drug Ranan into position, each one forcing an arm behind his back, his head stuck out for the executioner’s blade. He put forth no resistance, appearing to all to be a broken man, submerged in disbelief. The bloody welts laid out across his back had long since stopped bleeding, his hands crusted over with dried blood from the beating he’d delivered the day before.

“Ranan Hallomein, Priest of Anhur and Shaman of the Unther Imperial Army, you are hereby sentenced to death for the cold-blooded murder of Bagrin Humes, able soldier of the Unther Imperial Army. May Set curse your soul!” [/b]The words should’ve cut through his soul like a knife. Curiously enough they held no sway over Ranan, his ears now gave their attention to other words, words filled with blood and rage; words of outrage and anger for men who were too stupid to see the truth behind this matter. Words of acceptance and offering, he didn’t have to think of his answer.

“Yes.”[/b] The word spilled so softly from Ranan’s lips the guards mistook it for a gasp. The wounds along his back reopened, blood running down his back first in trickles, than in thick rivulets as his muscles clenched spasmodically. “YES!”[/b] The words erupted from Ranan’s mouth with the force of a thunderstorm, causing the guards holding his arms to fall back in shock. Oragoth wasted no time and swung his heavy cutlass at Ranan’s head, but Oragoth, just like everyone else moved as if in stasis compared to Ranan. Prayers to his lord Anhur went unanswered; this new power came from elsewhere. With a raging battle cry, “NUTHIN WALKS AWAY!”[/b] he accepted the power coursing through his body and broke open the dam holding it back letting it pour out upon his former mates.

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[/i]

[Grozer]

Fire licked up the house’s frame, assuring no one would ever know of the grotesque scene he’d found within. With his captors laid low, Ranan had quickly made his way back to Kira’s home. The atrocity within only served to stoke further the flames burning within Ranan. Bagrin had obviously returned to Kira’s after his first confrontation with Ranan and been none too gentle in his own way. Ranan’s love lie somewhere within the Fugue plane now, her soul surely lost. His child most definitely confined to the same fate as his lover. His career mattered little to him, but that too was gone with the already spreading news of the murder of an entire squad and the burning of an army barrack. It was time to leave and that is just what Ranan planned to do.

Before going, he kneeled down and picked up Kira’s lifeless body, holding her close one last time. Tears flowed freely as he said goodbye to his love. As the heat from the raging fire grew, his sorrow was replaced by growing anger and the voice returned, “….feed the fire my son…let them fear your fury…their laws did not protect her, their justice blind and your God was worthless! Hear my words and vengeance will be yours.”[/b] Was he hearing things or losing his mind? Nevertheless Ranan’s eyes glowed red with rage, he felt the power imbue his body again. Tears were gone. Laying Kira down with a final kiss, he knew she would not approve, but this mattered no longer.

Covered in blood, he stood and looked around for the source of the voice, yet saw no one. “Who speaks to me? SHOW YOURSELF!” [/b]His rage was answered only by flying embers and crackling fire. “Is my mind playing tricks on me? No matter, whoever you are I am listening. Vengeance was mine… I tasted your power creature and I do not wish to let it go, I am reborn!”[/b]

A devious laugh crackled through the air and the voice bellowed out, “Go, leave this place… take my gifts to Isinhold where many who seek fortune start their travels. Gain their trust, become part of the community and use them to hone your new talents, yet do not reveal me. The time will come when I will call upon you. Make ready for that day.”[/b] As the voice continued speaking to Ranan, a sudden and fierce energy filled his body, an excruciating pain, but rather than cry out, he reveled in it. Eyes glowing red, he continued listening to voice’s instructions…<br>
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“Nine gold for the passage, that’ll be sir.”[/b] The kindly old man held his hand out to Ranan, waiting with a smile on his face.

The cowl of his cloak hung low over his face, his blood-stained uniform hidden beneath. He’d taken no time to change, only enough to grab the cloak to pull over his badly stained tunic and breeches. With nary a word, he placed the nine gold lions into the old man’s palm and slipped onboard.

Standing out on the stern of the ship with ale in his hand, Ranan watched Unther slowly pull away along with his former God Anhur. He would continue his rebirth in Isinhold; there he would find himself some new clothes as well as weapons. Until then, he’d simply keep a low profile and stay out of the crew’s way. His vision had yet to return to normal, but he wasn’t complaining…[/i]

((feedback is welcome via PM))

[Grozer]

Moans of agony barely audible escaped from his mouth as the pain reverberated throughout his body and prevented him from moving at all. Instead he lay motionless with cheek pressed against cold stone floor, which was slick from a pool of blood. He opened his eyes to evaluate the surroundings but nothing was visible except an endless sea of darkness, yet murmuring voices could be heard in the distance.

Thinking back, thoughts flooded his mind… they had cornered him, threatened him, thrown accusations at him and left no alternatives. Manshin… the rage and pain from the injuries coursed through his broken body with the vision of this “old friend”. He began coughing violently spraying blood from his mouth.

Feeling was returning and he was becoming more coherent now, as evidenced by the increased pain he felt. He tried to speak and pray into the darkness, “…grant me retribution my Lord…”[/b], however to the guards outside his cell it was nothing more than garbled muttering. He continue speaking to someone only in his mind, “I serve you and did as you commanded. Up until now I have concealed…”[/b] his thought interrupted by a hacking cough, spewing up more blood from his lungs.

Light footsteps around him but no words were heard. His vision was slowly returning, and with it the hem of purple robes could be seen just outside his reach, obviously the robes that of a War Wizard. If he could just reach the mage’s ankle and bring him to the ground…

The sounds nearby changed… someone was casting spells… shouts rang out… clashing of metal… screams of battle rang out. He tried again to move, pushing his body over and lying on his back. As he did so he could see the cell door clang open and the War Wizard nearby began casting spells one after another… he could smell the mage’s fear, the “blood” of his lord filling his lungs. For a brief moment his injuries were forgotten and a grin washed across his face; Fear brought great satisfaction.

Fresh blood sprayed across his face as the killing blow struck the mage. Someone came near, kneeling down and applying some strange herbs to his wounds. Within moments, the pain lessened and a small amount of strength returned to his limbs enough that allowed him to get up with help. They pulled him to his feet quickly, pouring more healing concoctions into his mouth.

“I can’t move well.”[/b]

“We will help, sir, we must leave quickly before others arrive… you help carry him! You grab his armor, weapons and other items outside! Drink this sir.”[/b]

A small vial was placed to his lips and after drinking down the cool liquid his vanished from normal sight. They helped him move through the Suzail courthouse and he could see the carnage they left behind… several bodies still bleeding from the recent fight lay on the ground as they worked towards the door.

From there he would lapse in and out of conscious. He was not sure where they were going, but he knew they would be careful covering any tracks and not going to the expected place. What seemed like moments later he looked up from a bed, to see many faces of people tending to his wounds. He tried to lift himself up but was discouraged by one of his men and pushed back down.

“Sir, stay here, rest, you must recover… we will have our revenge soon enough.”[/b][/i]

[Grozer]

He sat quietly in his chamber reflecting obviously weary with a familar vision in his head. Even in death, his red bearded face seemed to mock him. Much had happened this day and all by mere chance or at least he assumed it was.

They had just decided to travel to the temple and continue his teachings on ancient rituals. She was growing quite powerful, he remembered thinking at the time. But he always had that nagging thought deep in his soul, her fierce power was weakened by quick temper and her lust for blood. How will I control that? No action can be random, planning is critical.

The door opened slowly and then he entered. She reacted without speaking a word and quickly gave chase. Following behind they raced through the city. He finally caught her by the city gate just outside the graveyard, she was standing over the body. The local guard nearby was also dead. He barked orders knowing they could not stay here long, when the druid walked up, with him....

The ranger, the one he had trusted, the one they turned against him...

"Fool, you happened along the wrong place at the wrong time!"

His sword came crashing down on the druid with little resistance. The killing blow came quick and he turned to the traitor. For a brief moment he hestitated, compassion for an old comrade attempted to seep into his heart, but it soon vanished as the tip of his sword tasted his flesh. His eyes blazed red with rage and anger while he twisted the blade in the man's stomach.

We have less time now... quickly... then she suggested something he did not even consider. A grin curled across his mouth and he listen. She was proving quite resourceful. They carried the heretics as quickly as possible to a place of safety.

They reached the temple without notice. Calling upon their lord, their souls were called back before them. The guards quickly chained them to the pillar and he told them to make sure the theif was secure. "He has many tricks." The dark man looked him in the eyes and smiled wickedly while placing one chain around his neck like a leash.

"You can avoid what will come next "friend"..." He would not be easy to break but they had plenty of time.

frc.proboards37.com/index.cgi?board=regalgriffon&action=display&thread=1127981505

[Grozer]

A knock at the door disturbed his thoughts, "What is it!" The scout entered trembling slightly realizing he was interrupting and seeing the look on the cleric’s face.

"Sir, Redmist is quiet."

With the wave of a hand he dismissed the scout, "Be gone then and do not bother me again this night."

As the door closed, he was puzzled. Although there were no living witnesses, the chase through the town was sure to catch some attention. The local official seemed to be running things his way, perhaps this was an opportunity. The rumor of him arresting Shields had reached his ears, he may listen. He would need to pay a visit to the official as soon as possible. The owner of the local inn may be able to help arrange a meeting. Redmist was a different city, where it seemed he could always find a warm bed and ale not to mention his frequent visits to the Prancing Pony. He wanted to keep it that way.

His thoughts shifted back to the events of this night.

The key… the tome… he was working against me all this time. My men had warned me, but how could I ignore the opportunity. The reborn one asked, no pleaded with me to allow her the pleasure of breaking the traitor. She was quite effective using various means.

While he watched and shouted questions, he could not help being impressed the display of strength. The fool continued to defiantly mock me…. he accepted and shrugs off so much pain, but it was only a matter of time. Such a waste, why could he not see there was a better way… an easier way… he did not have to endure this… but he chose to help the enemy which left little choice.

Eventually there was nothing more to be gained and he refused to accept any alternative. The Dark Priest commanded them to stop and approached closely standing over the nearly dead body. He couldn’t say it aloud and risk their reaction, instead looked into his eyes giving him a quiet salute of a profound respect. This dark priest did his duty but could not help from respecting strength and courage. Instinct told him this would not be the last time they met. Perhaps on the other side…

“Enough! Finish it…”

The flicker of the sunlight slowing pushing back the night pulled him from those thoughts. From his neck hanging by plain string was a small cloth pouch not big enough to hold more than a few pebbles. As he had done many times before, he pulled it open to reveal a lock of raven black hair. It belonged to her. Holding it, he closed his eyes, thinking of her flooded him with emotion almost washing away the blackness of his heart… fighting off the sorrow for her, he pushed those feeling deep within the empty soul, burying it once more. So long ago, one action changed the course of his life. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t chance… Gods don’t leave it to chance. He was manipulated, yet he achieved justice and rightly so. Delivering death to her defilers fulfilled him beyond description. The God-granted power bent to his anger and satiated his rage. For that, he made his deal and serve it he would.

This kill was no where near as sweet.

[Grozer]

Tossing and turning violently in his bed, the nightmare engulfs him. The ground beneath shakes, fire flares up in tune with rage, the anger of his tyrant God is paralyzing. The Dark Figure towers over him emanating an indescribable fear yet little else is discernible.

The priest without his armor and no protections kneels on the rocky ground before him. Although no verbal words are spoken, he understands. No one shall betray you without consequences. I accept the responsibility my Lord, this traitor will find a horrific end as a lesson to all others. The Priest sees gruesome visions pass through his mind, obviously signs of his fate should he fail. The figure snaps a claw at the kneeling priest...

Screaming from the searing, unimaginable pain he snaps out of fitful sleep sweating and shaking. Leaning over the side of the bed as the pain subsides, breaths come in ragged gasps. This cannot wait. Stumbling he attempts to don his armor.

Several guards reacting to the commotion burst into the chamber weapons drawn. The half dazed Priest looks at them coldly, the rage in his voice:

"We have no time to waste, we have a traitor to eliminate. NOW! This one shall suffer greatly you are free to do as you wish, but MY hand will end his life, understood?"

[Grozer]

”Your task is done, my Lord.”

The stabbing pain of his demands had ceased. Kneeling before an altar within the private prayer room next to his personal quarters, the dark cleric quietly praised his lord.

”The traitorous fool has been captured and we have already begum to make him pay for his stupidity. I gave this task to one of our most loyal and he completed it as I knew he would. He deserves your favor my Lord, his loyalty is unquestionable.

As for the traitor, I do not wish to kill him. But rather mark him as a warning to those that fail to bow to your rule. He will continue to suffer while his appearance will strike fear into those that look upon him. Let him live in eternal darkness and all will see your power.”

Standing with a malicious grin, he made his way slowly towards the prisoner’s cell. The traitor was laying there nearly dead inside the cell showing signs from days of torture. Unsheathing his sword, the cleric murmured a few words and the blade ignited in flame.

”Open the cell! Look closely for I will be the last thing you will ever see!

He burst into a sadistic laugh while “marking” the traitor.

[Grozer]

Their screaming rage grew more frequent and loud as of late disrupting all thoughts. The unhappiness was obvious, he knew what they sought and would not let him rest until the lust was satisfied. Sitting at the dinning table he reached up rubbing his temples trying to sooth the voices in his head.

The sight of his wife sitting nearby helped; gazing at her calmed the rage albeit only briefly.

Pushing himself to his feet, he labored towards his chambers and the small room adjoined to it. Closing the door behind the circular room of stone walls was plain and between 10-15 feet in diameter. The shrill of the voices dropped him to his knees at the alter, only a couple of candles and the glowing pulse of the portal near the alter penetrated the darkness. Bracing his hands on the alter with eyes closed he spoke as to the voices and to his Lord:

"I have done all you asked father, yet they grow comfortable and lack concern... I know your work is not done... I.. I will not stop until they all bow to your rule. Blood will spill until they all fear you my Lord!"

The voices calmed in that instant allowing the cleric to regain composure and notice the portal beginning to glow brighter and pulse with activity. Something was happening....

[Grozer]

Several moons had passed... and yet the weight of it all doesn't seem to fade. The vision still haunts the mind and this endless waiting... I am not a patient man. A half wicked grin forms, this effort is doomed... if not for the objective then for me at least. The foes will be fierce enough, but I will need to watch each of my 'comrades' at my side... who will be the first to draw my blood.

Peering into the fire he absently glances behind him searching for a moment but then realizing there was no one else around, his gaze returns back to the fire. Only the crackle of the fire heard throughout. Strange, the thought occurs to him how the red flames tease his mind with thoughts of her. Lifting a goblet to his lips, he gulps down blood red wine, distracted by his thoughts, he allows some of the liquid spill over his chin.

Muttering under breath, "Loyalty...", Warnings were received yet went unheeded, he wouldn't believe them. How can you trust those motivated by coin anyway, but it seems they were on to something he had even been blinded to.

Looking down, he clenched his armored hand into a tight fist squeezing... no wonder Father rules by fist and fear, loyalty wanes far too easily. Grinding his teeth, the anger boils inside mixing with his thoughts, "...far too blind.... and arrogant! To think...those I trust most!" his thoughts explode as he breaks the surrounding silence in a howl of rage.

Staring intently at his armored fist, he closes his eyes and speaks quietly. It is without a doubt he is praying...

"Father, I have paid my debt... once this last task is done."

[Grozer]

The darkness closes in and the stone grows colder each passing moment. Not a clue as to how long time had passed outside, several days at least judging by the few visitors that came. The Knights and Wizards kept their distance from his cell, knowing that while his heart still beat there was a chance he could reach beyond the cell door. Even in this haggard condition his prayers could envoke powerful divinations.

She returned again to check on him...

He sat and didnt move.

Woman: I did bring you breakfast as I promised
Ranan Hallomein: *nods barely moving*
Woman: Did not sleep well ...not even a proper blanket well no wonder *set down a small basket*
Ranan Hallomein: why?
Woman: Why what? here maybe this will keep the chill away
Ranan Hallomein: *in a horse voice* why do you come here to help me?
Ranan Hallomein: ... you know once I am out I will level this town.. and kill them all
Woman: Well I like to help people and I have known you for quite some time. And YOU saved my life, I could hardly wash my hands of you
Ranan Hallomein: ...and I will take many others
Woman: You are down on your luck
Ranan Hallomein: luck? *gasping laugh* Tymora has long abandon Ranan Hallomein... *a pause* much blood will be shed once I get out
Woman: Do you really think that such bitter angry words will achieve anything Well then I shall pray for you *slide the food under the bars and the bedding* ...Prison makes many men hard
Ranan Hallomein: *looks at the gifts not moving*
Woman: sometime harder than before if you can not find away to curb your temper ..well you wil be soon back here
Ranan Hallomein: *smirks* I wont be back alive
Woman: Confind to the cell alone here in the dark It can make one bitter angry that themselves the world and what then? if it is only to angrily lash out, you will just be back here. You must learn temperance
Ranan Hallomein: as I said Lass... IF I come back it will be my corpse only
Woman: Is that what you wish?
Ranan Hallomein: what I wish is not a concern.
Woman: because it can be a self fullfilling one It is a cycle the anger it will only send you back here or worse
Ranan Hallomein: *yells a bit his voice weak* I want BLOOD... there is no cycle.. it ends!

The two voices continue in the quiet darkness puntuated with an anger filled shout. She leaves him to his darkness and anger shortly thereafter.

[Grozer]

A light rain had been falling for some time as Ranan stood on the freshly dug earth. His water soaked hair and cloak hinted at how long he had been there frozen still by his thoughts of this night. The others had left a long time ago now and he simply continued to stare down at the body in the open grave.

Ranan's thoughts shifted to when he first met the Malarite and they struck up a conversation. From that point forward, they became loyal friends. A bold one he was, never showed any fear no matter what they faced. Ranan trusted his life and the life of others to his care many times and his loyalty never wavered. 'This' was coming for a time, though he appeared surprised when challenged, he had already known it would come to this.

When the metal of their swords finally collided, it seemed as if everything around them became still. Louis being adept at controlling his opponents, showed his mastery knocking Ranan down to the ground more than once. The battle seemed to last an eternity, until the cleric's sword stabbed past Louis's shield piercing his leathers. Ranan didnt move for a long moment watching the blood pool around his fallen comrade and almost instinctively prepared to raise him up.

Pushing the image from him mind, he jumped down into the grave and made sure Louis's sword was in-hand and his armor straps tight. Placing a hand on his chest, Ranan whispered almost as if his friend could hear his words:

"It's been a long road, Louis. Keep the sword close, you'll need it... I'll meet up with you soon and we can cause chaos in the after life. Until then... Watch your back, mate."

Taking the shovel he covered the grave without uttering another word.


//OOC: Thanks for all the fun Louis!

[Grozer]

Not even light cut through the damp mist as it swirled about him in all directions. Nothing to see except mist against the darkness, the only sounds to be heard came from crunching footsteps on the rocky soil below his boots. Each step required effort, feeling as though the weight of ten men were dragging behind him, but his eyes showed no signs of any burden. The whip of the cold air chilled his body, the rags of cloth covering him did nothing to hold warmth. Push onward, there must be some way out...

Dryness of mouth and parched lips, a craving for water became a necessity. His eyes caught a shimmer of light just to the east and he trudged toward it with labored steps, the sound of his beating heart echoing in his head. The mist seemed to dissipate as he moved closer to the strange light, while the ground below became less rocky. Finally darkness faded, the mist opened to a clearing. The sound of a bubbling brook filled his ears, the mid day sun warmly broke through the overhang of the trees and the sounds of a vibrant forest greeted him. He glided over fertile soil approaching the water.

Another person.... a woman...

Bright sunlight surrounded her, no it engulfed her as she stood and turned to face him. Squinting at the light and moving forward with a desire to learn who was here and where he was. All air left his lungs as he gasped seeing her face. Raven black hair caught in the breeze blew around her face, her green eyes stared calmly at him, ever as he remembered them. A soft white gown clung to her body, her bare feet moved effortlessly toward him even though each of his own movements now became impossible as if a wall stopped his path.

Breath escaped him, though he tried to speak, nothing came... seeing her beauty there just out of his reach...

In a bright flash of light, the peacefulness left her eyes replaced with sorrow, sadness and pain. Her lips didn't move yet her voice filled his head.

"Why Ranan? Wh-what have you become?" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she repeated her questions.

There was nothing he could say and even if he could no air returned to his lungs as yet. Balance escaped him, the weight of her stare, her disappointment pushed him to his knees before her, lowering his eyes and begging her understanding.

"You are not the man I married... he'd naught have done these things! She reached to him running her fingers over his cheek, her voice softened: "Come to me Ranan, let go..."

Air filled his lungs as he looked up to her, "Kira--"

He caught her eyes just before a brilliant flash of light which turned to complete darkness once again. The sun, the water, the warm soil beneath him, gone... she was gone.

The air grew frigid and cut through his flesh. Something was out there in the darkness... watching... waiting... there was no running or hiding, even in the cold, a light perspiration covered his brow as the fear froze him in place.

"Y'rok tinc k'tal zz'taemel! Qi finoc, shinae za bis ximiteric z'ratac." The deep voice bellowed inside him.

"I am.... aware, Father. I am devout and serve only you." With eyes lowered, head bowed, he replied quietly, his voice hollow.

The ground beneath rumbled slightly, long black tentacles pushing out of the dirt then slithered slowly wrapping around his wrists, legs, chest and neck. Ranan grunted some as the grip tightened, not resisting and letting the darkness completely fill the shell of what was left. An acid like substance seeped from the tentacles burning into his skin.

"You still have much to repay, even here!"

The tentacles tighten and the acid burned deeper, Ranan clamped his jaw tight and his body tensed as the pain coursed through him. The slithering shackles pulled him downward into the soil, slowly he sunk deeper hearing only his Father's voice but trying to hold onto the vision of her.

[Grozer]

Another restless night, the visions still clear, the sensations of it still vivid. Rolling to the edge of the bed, staring out into the darkness of the small chamber his mind wandered. They were loyal, ironic as it were. His apprentice and his beautiful sister. There was no expectation that anyone, least of all them would return him from that wretched hole. Most would have seized the opportunity to take his place... take what he had built and make it their own. Father would have applauded them, strength shall rule and those that fail -- buried. Power is seductive and they chose to pass on this chance.

Without thought he reached to his back, touching the wounds on his back. They would never heal completely. Even now, as his hand drew forward he could feel the blood his fingertips. The wounds would seep as a reminder.

Standing he dressed quietly, tighting straps and buckling the armor in place then pulling on a cloak he headed outside to moonlight night. Quiet, yet again he would walk the city to pass the time at least the bodies were gone and soon the smell of the dead with them.

Something pulled him into the temple, moreso toward the now crumbling statue once dedicated to Lathander. Long moments passed as he stared at it, then as if someone could hear, he spoke quietly, disdain in his voice...

"Your light fades, old one... false promises of hope.

...mere trickery. There is only Fate!

Hope is nothing more than a way to pacify the sheep, fill their emptiness...

Keep them toiling away and calm their doubts.

In some ways I owe you a bit of thanks, I need not work so hard to fill their lives with fear...

I can sit back and wait, as each day you fail to deliver on their hopes, doubt creeps in... each day they see nothing, the fear returns. And then before long, hope is an afterthought, replaced with anger, hatred and fear."

[Grozer]

Stirred from a fitful slumber, he sits before desk, parchment and quill, face a glow from the single candle burning low late into the night. The damp air of the night cooling the skin of his bare chest as he lifts the quill, flips open a plain looking journal and writes pausing briefly to watch the soft movements nearby.

Date not noted.
I rode through the encampment on horseback taking in the sight of such force, even for my eye it was breathtaking. The men stood tall and confident, fierce determination in their eyes; I couldnt help but grin. So many thoughts passing through my mind, I've no idea where to begin.

First-Sergeart was right though, more must be learned. The young lad is a quick thinker, eager and a soldier like nothing I have seen. I will gladly take him into battle by my side. The brief diplomatic meeting with one Captain was not enough to explain what was truely about to unfold.

This implications for Redmist are... The next word thickly scratched out. ...many questions must be answered before that is known.

His eyes shift to the bed, staring in thought before continuing.

How will this effect... now.. when much has changed. Padrin continues to be a thorn, believing he has learned something... he hasn't a clue to what he is asking.

Pushing up from the chair quietly, snuffing out the flame, he slips back into the bed attempting to steal a few more winks of rest.

[Grozer]

Heavy footsteps and heavy thoughts as he paced the small room like a caged tiger being taunted. For some reason the creak of the Ogre's floorboard stopped the steps as he twisted his boot over it a moment. Perhaps it was the irony, finding and protecting a Lathanderite, well at least until he learned what he needed, the drunk's body lay shredded now, while he had to lay low under the cover of the very rulership he despised. A new focus of the building fury took precedence.

Thoughts spinning... the growl started low and deep in the back of his throat, his eyes darkening

How dare he... Redmist is mine!

An explosion of rage manifesting as his fist crashes into the wall, wood splintering.

Pathetic old man, name me a traitor!!! I ran the city! I WAS DOING him a favor. Should have quietly slit his throat rather than allow him a merciful way out!

Staring at the spot on the wall, the sound of his voice errily calm.

"Your time is over Bloodstil. Once I recover what I need, I will take your head as a trophy. You will beg for my original offer."

[Grozer]

The stench of death wafted in the still air as he stepped off the caravan, the burning pyre of wolfen bodies near the gate serving as a warning to entrants and enemy. There were risks entering Redmist now, but these were little deterrent, “it” is somewhere within the city walls. Pulling the hood low and clenching his cloak tight against the snow, he averted his gaze slipping past the guard without incident… or so it seemed. Clattering of metal boots on stone and a booming voice from behind as he reached the wagon peddler:

”You…. Hold!”

Stopping his stride and barely looking back under shadow of a hood, several guards were rushing toward him, to the far left he caught the glimpse of flowing red robes… no doubt Thayan mages… -now- they come to the city’s aid. Playing ignorant, he resumed his leisurely gait, only to be greeted by the voice again:

”Stop, state your business in Redmist!”

Turning slowly, his hand slipping down under the concealment of a thick cloak, resting instinctively on the pommel of his sword, he attempted the best accent he could:

”Beg yeh pardon, jus’ passin’ thra, mates, hopin fer sumthin ta drink… den ‘e un me way.’”

“Show your face!”

“Tain’t needin’ Sir, ah’ll jus’ ‘e un me way. Weren’t awares o’ such a rukus ‘n town.’”

“Last chance to do so yourself....”

“Nuh need, I were jus’ leavin’”

Quickly he made for the gate, stopped by the shimmer of air ahead before the flowing red robes of several more Thayan mages made themselves visible and the rush of boots from both sides as the glint of polished halberds caught the corner of his eye. Instinctually he called out to the Dark Lord, his form glowing as the divine energy coursed through his flesh strengthening mind and body. Pulling Eclipse from its scabbard he could see Edward off to the side uncertainty in his eyes. The lad wouldn’t strike back, these were Thayan, but he wouldn’t aid them either.

Raising the blade, its bright red glow pulsed as if craving the souls nearby. Many of the guards knew that sword. One yelled out:

”Captain!”

“Hallomein, put down your weapon. Lord Bloodstil only wishes to talk.” One of the Thayan’s tried to sound convincing.

The words weren’t heard, Ranan was already plotting each move. Lunging forward in a smooth motion of a battle hardened warrior, the sword stabbed effortlessly through the gut of the closest mage. Before the soulless body crumpled to the ground, the cleric was spinning, his blade slashing across the chest of a second caster, his arcane words turning into a death gurgle. But there were too many… the hail of magic and steel came from every direction until blackness.

Wracked with pain head to toe he rolled on the icy cold stones of Redmist roads, until the lad helped him to his feet. Bloodstil… his head pounded the name… while walking toward the Great Hall.

He stepped through these doors so many times before, but not like this… not practically pushed through, stumbling forward, his eyes adjusting to the dimly light room then focusing on the his superior, Lord Bloodstil.

“Hello ‘Captain’.” Bloodstil mocked and stepped closer. ”It has been some time since we spoke and I thought it best if I gave you the latest news myself.” The Lord of Redmist grinned wide as he paced slightly.

”You are hereby relieved of your command ‘Captain’.” The excitement in his voice was clear.

It was unclear which caused him to wince more, the pain from his wounds they would not allow him to tend to or the anger over losing his post. A rage slowly swelled, Bloodstil was nothing… he sat in his comfortable estate all this time ignoring the city…my men died to defend Redmist… anything gained was from my effort.. how dare he... Redmist is mine!! I should be Lord of Redmist not this weak old fool! Scanning about the chamber, he met the eyes of the men formerly under his command, most couldn’t look back.

”You are nothing without me to help you hold this city old fool!”

“Oh you are not done, ‘Captain’. You will deal with this lycan problem you have brought upon the free people of Redmist or perhaps the people will know you are responsible? I am sure you would not be so well received then.”

“This is not over, Bloodstil.”


//ooc: the interactions with NPCs did occur in game and I tried to recreate the general comments feelings without my logs (I didn’t save them unfortunately). If I misstated anything please let me know and corrections will be made.

[Grozer]

A guttural growl bursts from the depth of his throat as he jumps from the bed. His breath ragged and panting, eyes blinking rapidly adjusting to the darkness, his skin covered with a light perspiration... straightening himself, he begins to pace the room while his mind continously replays the dream.

Scratching his shoulder and chest over and over again as if irritated, he angrily grabs clothes and dresses quickly.

"This shall not wait."

[Grozer]

The cool water was relaxing and perhaps would allow a decent rest this night or so he thought as he closed his haggard eyes. Only to bolt from the the bed what seemed like seconds later, his pulse racing, bloodlust in his eyes, the salty taste of blood on his lips.

It was a dream but all clear thought gone now, supressed by rage and thirst, he dressed quickly slipping out into the deserted Redmist streets. Dark clothes, hood pulled low and tightened cloak to conceal his identity, walking with a slight slouch at a brisk pace toward the south gate, only hearing the sound of his pounding heartbeat.

The dim light of a partial moon granting greater cover as he quietly opens and steps through the gate. A faint smirk glancing at the guard leaning back against the stone wall, a quiet snore coming from under his slipped forward helm.

Reaching the farmlands south of the city, he made his way toward penned in cattle, standing close to the fence. The prey stirred, their natural instincts picking up the impending threat. The pulse of his heart beating faster, the energy coursing through his muscles as he effortlessly hops over the fence crossing toward the backing away cattle. With a threatening growl and quick slash of hand cutting deep and slicing open the closest creature... he watches it collapse to the ground with a thud as the others scatter in fear.

The silence of the night returns as he drags the enormous weight of the lifeless carcass toward the nearby forest, settling down inside a thicket of trees to enjoy his feast.

[Grozer]

((The following series of posts are based on some in-game experiences, perhaps true or not. Those parts that occurred with DM oversight I will ask that DM to review for accuracy before posting. The rest I will take some creative liberties in telling the story. If any DM member has issue with a specific part or anyone wishes to provide feedback please do so via PM))

---

A Long Journey: Part I[/i]
[/color]
Two continuous, exhausting days... moving... changing... backtracking... boarding various caravans... constantly searching and looking back. Eveningstar was the last real bed to be seen for a while. Under the cover of darkness, he climbed out from the upper floor window of the Lonesome Tankard, falling the last few feet into the forgiving snow. Untying his horse, quietly they padded out of town, north through harsh terrain where few could follow easily. Once in the Stonelands the path turned north east and here the ground would pass slower than he might of liked but it was a necessary sacrifice to keep a searching eye for possible pursuers.

No sign of hunters for a time now, well at least none that had revealed themselves. Ever since the last series of notes by this Entreri, things had grown quiet. The games that one played... he either decided to move on or... no, all clues he left behind would suggest this man would finish his job and not be deterred. Something else must have happened. Someone must have called away his attention or stopped him. If nothing else, spending the last several months dodging the bounty hunters and mercenaries across Cormyr and the Western Reaches was preparation and motivation for this endeavor... one that must succeed.

"How can you know?"

Poignant words echoed in his mind, a valid question but hopefully more paranoia than precursor.

His gaze slowly taking in the sleepy village finally stepping into Tilverton. His mind drifted back as he walked through town, it should be in motion by now. Dragging his thoughts back to the current path... Focus, here! After purposely and slowly making his way through town, looking for any sign of a tail, he continued east.

"Hyaaa!" Digging his heels into the horse's ribs, he began to ride. They were a good distance out of town now. It was time to make haste, being quiet and drawing attention was no longer a concern. The cold, night air rushed past while a faint smirk touched his lips at the irony, Lady Luck had granted him the moonless night he wanted. Only the rapid beat of horse hooves and his own quickened breath could be heard as the woods of Cormanthor appeared in the distance. Cutting through this vast forest would not be a simple task.

Fatigue ate at his concentration, but there would be no rest until well inside the cover of the thick woods and even then it would only be brief.

[To be continued...]

[Grozer]

A Long Journey: Part II[/i]
[/color]

Eventually, he settled down for some rest in a small clearing surrounded by thick brush and covered by a canopy of trees. Of course not ideal, but it was fairly well hidden. Sitting in the damp cold grass with back resting against a fallen tree, he rummaged through his pack finding something unexpected while searching for dried meat.

"Where did this come from....?" The unspoken question not answered only led to "Who put this here?" as he pulled a stack of parchments from his pack; they were sandwiched together by a pair of flat hardened leather hides and all tied up with twine. On the outside held by the twine, a smaller piece of parchment... tension left his hardened expression as he read the note. Cutting away the twine and unrolling the stack, he settled down in that quiet spot, forgetting for a moment where he was and where he was headed... he just read.

So enthralled in the words, that the whispering of a soft voice from behind, "Greetings" stopped his breath. Raising his eyes up, he didn't flinch or move, only looked straight ahead. Whoever had followed would not be in that same spot, so there was no point in turning back or reaching for a weapon yet... don't give away any reaction.

Quietly he replied from beneath a shadowed hood in a gruff and hoarse voice, but in no specific direction: "Greetings."

Then silence, except for the whistling of the cold night wind passing through the trees. He was about to turn and have a look, but stopped at the soft purposeful sound of crushing grass under light footfalls in front of him. Within the darkness and shadows all about he could barely see a rough outline of the figure. Again he held still and waited, holding the distracting parchments in one hand while the other slipped discreetly down near the hilt of his sword.

"Such a small fire... someone does not wish to be found." Whispering no more, he could tell his visitor was female. Boldly she stepped into the faint glow of the fire, the gentle curves of her form covered by dark leathers now clearly visible. A hood hid her face even though wisps of hair peeked out the edges. Readied in her hand and notched with arrow was a darkwood bow, its extended length rather unusual compared to her small frame.

"Yet you did." Emphasizing his hoarseness as he replied.

"I was raised in these woods, a broken branch catches my attention, human." Her tone had bite to it, but it was unclear if she used 'human' in spite or merely arrogance. "You must be lost. These woods are not easily traveled. A trail lies to the south, I suggest you use it... if not I am sure one of the orc raiding parties will find you to be an excellent feast."

"Such concern is admirable." He couldn't resist adding a soft smirk. "I know the Moonsea Ride but my path lies north of Myth Drannor under the cover of these woods."

"On horseback? Do you know this forest or your path?" Her voice rising some. "Are you mad?"

"Where I come from some might suggest so... but in this... you heard me right." An air of confidence filling his voice. "However, it would be prudent to ensure a successful journey. You know these woods, perhaps guiding me thr--"

"Do not mistake my generous advice for anything more, stranger." Quickly cutting him off.

"Indeed." His hand moved toward his belt, instinctively the visitor raised her bow, leveling the tip of the arrowhead on his face.

"Hold your hand, stranger!"

"Be still!" His voice commanding and losing its gruffness, the directive giving him a few moments to rip the small pouch from his side and toss it in the direction of the woman's voice. The contents of the pouch spilling open as it hit the ground, the colorful glint of emerald, garnett and a few other stones along with the yellow gold of coins catching the the woman's eye. Glancing down and toeing the shinies some, she lowered her bow.

"Perhaps I can take a couple of days to lend my aid." She quietly agreed after a few moments of bending down and collecting the payment. "But we leave the horse."

"Excellent. Matters require my urgent attention so we shall rest sparingly and travel swiftly, agreed?"

"And where exactly are we headed?" She looked up from finally closing up the pouch.

"Just get me through these woods and ensure we are not followed or found... beyond that you don't need to know. Now rest a bit and eat, we shall set out soon." Ranan turned away from her signaling an end to the conversation as he sorted and repacked his things, stowing away the parchments for reading at a more opportune time.

[...to be continued.]

[Grozer]

A Long Journey: Part III[/i]
[/color]

Few words were spoken between them, even if attempted little could be heard above the roar of nature's fury. Torrential rains pounding down for more than two days now. The dense terrain had become even more difficult to travel as the thickening mud acted like molasses slowing further every step.

Frustrating weather clouded the path ahead forcing them to stay closer together. Ranan knew as he tried to discern through the foggy surroundings they were vulnerable should they happen upon any denizens of this forest as the elven lass so casually put it. Perhaps the only palatable result to come from this distance, it gave him time to study his guide. No matter how futile, she took time to study the blurred path searching for any sign of trouble. There was a grace in her step, even while sloshing through the mud and puddled water; she handled herself with confident cautiousness.

The skies finally granted them a break from the pummeling, the hint of sunlight barely breaking through. Even still the terrian granted no such repreave. With each slow step, the burden of his plate mail weighed his pace even more, but precautions were necessary. He stopped, bending over at the waist, trying to calm his heavy breathing. Fatigue and water soaked armor bearing down on his barely rested body.

"Hold!" He called out hoarsely. "...need to find a place to get out of this armor... tough to move like this."

She led them to a small clearing surrounded by a canopy of trees, decent cover for a quick rest. With great effort, he unbuckled each piece of plate letting it splash into the puddled water and mud then finally breathing deeply in relief as he unpacked a light chain tunic. Pulling off his water soaked undershirt, he twisted the cloth wrenching out water before tossing it into his pack and packing away his armor.

"Scars of war?" She questioned Ranan, her tone remaining neutral and aloof.

No doubt referring to the myriad of lashing scars that webbed over his back and shoulders. Barely turning his head, his eyes impassionate while rolling out the chain tunic. "Something like that... " The vague answer having its effect. She stepped to the edge of clearing pretending to scan deeper into the woods yet allowing the question to fall quietly aside. For some reason he felt compelled to quietly add, "Reminders from the end of a whip, they are... a time to be buried as some tales are better left untold, lass."

Quickly changed they were back on their path, one which was growing dark again. The sun was descending beyond the mountains and grey clouds were filling in once more.

"...not too much farther... just over that ridge... but perhaps we should find shelter for the night?" She quietly suggested after pointing out the direction.

It may have been the turn of her head while speaking to Ranan or innocent calmness all around them, but both seemed lulled into a far too relaxed state considering their surroundings. Snapping branches and gutteral grunts broke the quiet, both spinning with wide eyes trying to catch sight of the source. Brush russeled and the ground rumbled almost as if a stampede was headed right for them. It was then the first set of beady reddish eyes were spotted...

"There....orcs!" She spied the incoming enemy first, immediately raising her bow and releasing, her first arrow striking with deadly precision. The force of the arrowhead piercing the orc's forehead stopped its charge instantly and provided a trival obstacle as the others trample over. As he pulled his sword free, Ranan caught glimpses of what they were up against. Greatly outnumbered from what he could tell and these orcs seemed smarter, at least more battle savy. They were pinching their prey with a strong push head on... the elf's bow fired fast and true, picking off those in the frontal assault with ease, but they were many.

A glinting reflection off his sword was cause enough to turn his head. Ranan spun and slashed upward, the gratting whine of axe to sword as he deflected the cleaving weapon that was meant for the elf's back. With the thrust of his shield, he pushed her aside and away from the onslaught, even as the unnatural strength of the orc's swing nearly knocked him off balance. He could not offset all of the orc's blow, bouncing off his sword's hilt guard, the double edged axe bit into Ranan's shoulder. Growling out in pain, he twisted, using the momentum of the orc's weapon pushing it to the side then thrusting and piercing the point of his blade into the dead center of the orc's chest.

"...to your feet and fight!" Ranan barked to wide-eyed elf. She had stumbled and fallen to a knee from the push but popped to her feet quickly and letting her bow sing again. He could feel the warm trickle of blood flow down his arm and side as the first group of orc bandit got close, metal clashing. Disposing of them with quick precision, it was evident many more were rushing into the flay and this would be only a matter of time before being overwhelmed.

"Zz'arc tal yentz!!"

The infernal words slipped effortlessly from his tongue, swirling black clouds darkened before erupting into a blasting plume of flame, exploding down on the enemy. A wave of Intense heat washed over Ranan and his guide. The deadly display of power not only killed, but gave reason for the remaining attackers to pause, just a moment. Without hesitation, the dark cleric commanded a second firey strike. The orcs left standing scattered and ran, perhaps off to gather the rest of their clan or just running to save their skin.

Two trees and much of the surrounding brush along with orc carcasses were now engulfed in flames, billowing smoke and marking their location for all to see. As the smell of burning flesh filled the air, Ranan turned and spoke with an erry calmness:

"Quickly... we need to get out of this area..." He could see the strange look in the elf's eyes, he could feel her judgemental gaze boring into his back as he made for the ridge.

Moving with great haste and not stopping for nightfall they put great distance between themselves and the burning pyre, before stopping to take a drink and gage their location.

"How much...farther?" No words had been uttered between them since the fight.

"We are nearly to the edge of the woods, just beyond.... what you did back there.." She paused, staring yet keeping her distance. "...the tongue you spoke..."

'You're alive are you not!" Ranan shouted cutting her off.

"Few speak such an unnatural tongue... " She quietly added inching back away, he could see her fingers tightening around the bow.

The cleric thrust his open palm forward and spoke a single word, a wave of force gripping the elf and holding her still. She could see him move closer, hear him speak even feel his hand, but no matter how she struggled, she couldnt move. Ranan moved alongside her frozen body, inhaling deeply as a faint smile curled on his lips.

"Ahhh yes, the stench of fear is about you my dear elven friend... not to worry this will merely hold you tight for a few brief moments while I take my leave." Circling around her body, he stood face to face meeting her eyes, softly patting his hand on her cheek. "Had we crossed paths in a another time that might not have been the case. But you did do your part... and as such... well we are even shall we say. My thanks." Leaning closer and lower his voice to a bare whisper, "You'd be wise to forget everything about me and just go on about your life."

Turning away, he hefted his pack onto his shoulder and headed off alone, glancing back occasionally into the darkness left behind.

She didnt lie, Ranan thought as he broke out of the forest into open land a time later. It was a clear night, surprisingly well lite with a full moon. As he walked farther and farther away from the forest, the sound of rushing water caught his ears. He was close... near the river...

Standing on the banks of the Tesh River with daylight breaking, even his groggy eyes could see it. Tall spiked towers built of ash colored stone rising up in the distance, while banners flying high whipped in the morning wind, finally Zhentil Keep. Soon he would have the answers he sought.

[...to be continued.]

[Grozer]

A Long Journey: Part IV[/i]
[/color]
((Finally the last part of this story I had planned to finish a long time ago. Specifically part IV was overseen by MaO a very long time back, so long ago I lost my notes and the log. I have recreated the scene from memory but I do believe it captures the essence of what happened even if embellished rather extensively on my part. I would have normally asked for MaO's review before posting but I have decided to go ahead and if the DM team or MaO wishes me to make changes I will. As always if you have comments please feel free to send a PM.))

---

A finely sharpened blade scraped up the pulse of Ranan's neck ending just under the jaw before he pulled it away and dipped it into the bucket of boiled water. He couldn't recall exactly how long ago he actually slipped outside the Cormyrian borders... two tendays... likely more. Now inside civilization again, surrounded by the ashened stone walls of Zhentil Keep, the road weary cleric shaved away the last of what had been a thick beard.

Looking more like himself once again, he stared at the hardened visage peering back from the mirror, his mind racing with what laid before him.

How can you know? The concerned voice echoed in his mind, again asking the question.

"I don't!" Ranan barked in response, snarling some in frustration at not having answers rather than the question itself. He always prided himself in being one step ahead, being able to anticipate the next move of friend and foe alike, but this time it was different. He was dealing with too many unknowns.

Cupping some fresh water into his hands, he splashed his face one last time snapping the thoughts from his mind in that instant. Combing fingers through his freshly cropped hair, he mumbled quietly catching a glimpse at hints of gray.

With precision Ranan buckled into his obsidian armor, quirking a grin at the remarkable shine to the plate mail. Upon arriving, he had found a young boy all to eager at earning some gold and gems to help the former Captain prepare for his audience. The boy enthusiastically polished and cleaned the metal for hours, even using a horse hair brush to clean and comb the thick wool of his cloak. Flipping his blood red cloak and clasping it over his shoulders, Ranan stared back one more time speaking aloud and much more controlled now.

"I shall have answers soon enough. And whether wanted or not, this shall come to end soon."

Ranan opened a small leather pouch drawing out a medallion of solid iron. With a dipped head, he slipped the thick link chain around his neck, fastening the clasp while standing tall then adjusting the disc so it sat squarely on his chest. A green glow was stained onto the background of the medallion so it appeared to emanate from behind the scepter, thus marking the bearer as a ranking member of the Banite clergy. Rarely had he ever worn this inside the borders of Cormyr, as the embossed scepter of the Zhentarim would surely only provide more obstacles to his efforts.

It was time.

Striding down the long passageways toward his fate, Ranan stood tall, chest pushed out, chin high, eyes locked forward as if marching, it all came instinctively to him, the military training ingrained in his blood. Nearing the massive double doors into the main hall several elite Zhentarim guards came into view. What a sight to behold, these dark knights wore the blackest of armor forged in the depths of Zhentil Keep, their faces completely concealed within helms barely allowing an onlooker to see the whites of their eyes. Their pole arms were impressive and like nothing he had seen before, multiple jagged edges allowing for a variety of maneuvers in battle. These men were hardened by years of battle, there was little that would stir a reaction in them.

With a formal salute one of them opened the doors standing aside. Ranan returned the salute as he passed through not looking back as the door closed behind.

Empty for the moment. It was a grand meeting hall lined with rows upon rows of ornate benches all facing a raised dais, well lit considering its size. Ranan's armored footfalls echoed out as he approached the steps of the dais and waited.

The wait wasn't long, soon the rumble of many footsteps erupted from the back of dais. The floor to ceiling drapery parted as a dozen or so well-armed elite Zhentarim guards poured through taking up positions on either side of the dais' steps turning to face the visitor. The rest of the group stepped into view. Without hesitation in a sweeping motion Ranan moved to one knee, his head inclined forward slightly while pressing an armored fist against his breastplate. The sound of his voice resonated within the hall as he spoke with confidence.

"May those who resist the rule of the Dark Lord, feel the wrath and burn of his blade. Greetings My Lord and Commander."

Fzoul Chembryl, the Chosen, coldly stared back, revealing no expression.

"Greetings, Imperceptor, rise up and be at ease. You have traveled a long distance. My advisers tell me of your insistence for this meeting and that you bear urgent news for my ears."


--------------------------------------------------


He stood rigidly, feet shoulder width apart, clasping his hands behind his back, his ice blue eyes peering without expression up the some 20 feet of stone steps leading to the top of the dais where Fzoul remained.

"Aye, sir. It was my hope not to annoy you with such matters but events have progressed that warrant your attention. My deepest gratitude for granting this audience."

"Well Hallomein, we know this would not be the first time your actions have drawn my direct involvement."

He expected this, he would be baited and prodded, pushed to the edge to test his discipline and loyalty. Fzoul began to descend the stairs slowly moving closer, a small sneer on his lips awaiting any reaction. Ranan knew that look oh so well and just barely flinched, he knew to what Fzoul alluded.

Their last meeting did not start out so pleasantly. Ranan woke up in pain, his beaten and bleeding body barely clothed in rags laying against the cool stone floor of a darkened cell, at least he assumed that's what it was. Not far away he could the others with their small groans of pain. They had failed that night... so close to stopping the caravan of goods from reaching Redmist but the protectors had far greater numbers against the lack of proper planning. The cell door creaked open and several men spilled in, everything was so blurry partly from injuries but also the complete darkness they were being held in. Fzoul's voice was unmistakable and his anger clearly leveled at Ranan. He accepted the beating and torture for the incompetency. Only trying to explain what had happened when asked... the Chosen didn't like his answers and preferred not to hear anymore so he proceeded to cut out Ranan's tongue that night. Much after that was hazy at best, except Fzoul's orders to stay close to Redmist and minding such he would be allowed to live.

Most else is already known. Redmist revolted, breaking away from Cormyrian rule to become an independent City-State with Lord Jorias Bloodstil as the governing noble. And almost in the same day named Ranan as Captain of the Redmist Guard.

"My deepest regret for involving you then, m'lord and tis not without long hours of consideration before arriving before you now. Lord Bloodstil is about to destroy everything that has been put in place.'

"Grave news indeed."

Fzoul now stood within two steps showing no physical reaction to the statement. A slow burning anger began to boil inside Ranan as the game continued. It was without a doubt not "news" to Fzoul's ears, the Zhentarim had spies across the lands and even a base of operations, a fortress just at the border of Cormyr, surely he had heard -something- by now.

"Jorias seeks to control Redmist for his own ends. He has ousted the Guard, including myself replacing us with Sembian mercenaries now called the Scarlet Guard. Furthermore he is falsifying information, rounding up "criminals" for execution, even turning me into a traitor and placing a bounty on my head. His actions are drawing increased attention from Redmist's neighbors. My Lord, I suspect the Cormyrian nobles will push and eventually convince the Crown to invade and retake Redmist. I am here to request a size-able force to assist in restoring order."

Fzoul turned a little, pacing along the step as he considered briefly. Then in a flat, emotionless voice:

"Our forces are stretched among many efforts, Imperceptor. You should know this."

Not an answer. Ranan clenched his jaw just enough, his voice rising with the anger as he spoke his next words.

"Sir, Bloodstil ignores the command of the church, he has directed several attempts on my life. He needs to learn his place!"

Fzoul spun then, his face pinched into a furious scowl, immediately shouting back.

"Then perhaps you should handle it Hallomein!"

Both men paused each waiting for the other to break the sudden silence. Ranan could feel the rumble of his inner beast howl inside his head:

Sssssss.... take him now..... jab blade 'to throat... guardssssss too far too slow... dead fassssstttt... take wha' yoursssssss... de Lord rewardssss strength... takesss itttt....

Ranan bellowed out in rage within himself, blinking his eyes at that very moment.

Madness! Crawl back into your darkness!

"Something your wish to say, Imperceptor?" Fzoul quirked a small sneer, speaking rather calmly, almost pleasantly as he no doubt caught some subtle reaction from the inner turmoil. Ranan regained his control, steeled his gaze responding just as calmly.

"Pardon my speaking out, I am not questioning your decision, sir. Tis true, I should handle it. Thus I request your permission to kill Lord Bloodstil and oust his mercenary guard from Redmist by any means I choose."

"Do as you must." Fzoul added a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Then I shalln't occupy your time any longer. Request to be dismissed, sir?"

Fzoul merely nodded. Not another word was spoken as Ranan proceeded to take a step back, place an armored fist against his breast plate once more in salute before turning on his heels and walking back the way he came.

It wasn't much nor what he expected but there was at least some answers. Ranan wasted no time, gathering up his things after leaving the meeting hall then making his way toward the docks. There he would secure passage back and finally deal with Bloodstil. The dark cleric nearly grinned gleefully at the thought of how Jorias would pay for his misdeeds.

Though his mind was preoccupied with planning, he still noticed the 'escort'. Discreetly he cast his gaze back several times and caught a glimpse of approximately six Zhentarim guards following. They kept a distance but it was clear they were watching. To confirm he wasn't just succumbing to Veshal's paranoia, Ranan stopped and placed his pack down, turning and bending some, began rummaging through as if looking for something. As he looked back and caught their gaze the soldiers stopped at their distance, lingering and not uttering a word. When he resumed the journey so did they. Of course, Ranan was already mulling over what Fzoul had said and what he hadn't. The surprising company of an escort made the meeting with Fzoul all the more interesting. More uncertainty there... but that would have to wait for now... Ranan had to deliver Bloodstil to his fate and soon.

[Grozer]

//ooc: Ranan's state of mind and personal reactions to the referenced events (see link) posted here as it would not be considered public or common knowledge in any form.

The Beginning of the End

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Slipping quietly amongst the people, he weaved his way out of the docks through the market place toward the slums just outside the walls of Redmist. Ever conscious of those around him, he tugged down on the front of his hood ensuring his face buried in shadows, never just counting on the small swath of cloth wrapped around his neck and the lower half his face underneath the hood.

The slums provided an opportune point to watch, listen and wait. The need for survival coupled with the jingle of coin can drum up a few tales even in these weak and scared people. Even now as the latest news caught his ear, frustration, hate and anger boiled inside nearly drowning out the words that were delivered.

Soon old man, soon you will know what it is to cross me.

The thought roared in his mind as Ranan placed a few coins and a bottle of ale in the informant's hand.

Pathetic.

He was seething at this game of cat and mouse, hiding. It turned his stomach to think it had come to this. Instead of immediately grabbing his best men and waging an open war, he hesitated. Instead of turning the streets crimson, he stayed his hand. Instead of eliminating Bloodstil when the chance offered itself, he showed mercy and succumbed to misplaced loyalties.

Foolish!!! Ranan growled to himself.

Bloodstil was cunning no doubt... even surprising in several of his actions but none of it would matter much longer. Jorias' warm blood would coat the streets of Redmist, and Ranan would savor the look in the old man's eyes as his last breath gasped out with the Captain's grinning face hovering over. For the moment, the image calmed the raging beast inside the Cleric for he knew it would not end there. Letting Lord Bloodstil pass beyond this realm so quickly would never grant proper vengeance. No, he would capture the Lord of Redmist's soul and ensure endless punishment for his former commander. And then he would find Bloodstil's kin. All of them, none would be left. Obliterate the Sembian's bloodline! Ranan's internal beast howled at the thought.

Strike after me and what little I have left old man and you will regret it for all eternity.

Then there is Pickett and his thread bare resistance. His ignorant well intended ideals would get him nothing but disappointment. He wants something "better" for the people. They don't KNOW what is better!!

Ideals... Ranan nearly spit out the sudden sour taste in his mouth as he recalled a long time past in a different place. For Honor, Family and Country. I served to protect those ideals. So ignorant. Protect only to be turned on... to be jailed... to be set for execution when it was -my- wife and unborn child ripped from me!

Ranan shook his head trying to bury those thoughts back to the dark recesses of his mind again. Fine Pickett, for now have it your way. Let the wounded sheep enter the den, the sweet scent of fear will draw the wolves to bare teeth and attack. Ranan let off a soft sinister laugh nearly startling the man he had paid who was still standing near. They must think me a mad man... if they only knew... he cleared his throat, speaking hoarsely and in his well practiced accent:

"Begone, 'less ya 'ave somethin' more ta say? When yeh do, ya know where ta find me."

The Dark Cleric rose from the makeshift camp in the slums, heading out of the city toward the hills and mountains. He'd bide his time and allow the frenzy of the beast grow, its hunger and thirst for blood welling. Failure didn't scare Ranan, there was no point. Lacking a fear of death and holding so few loyalties now, there was little -risk- to himself. Unslinging his bow, he walked deeper into the woods, he couldn't help but chuckle softly again, Bloodstil had created his own doom. He thought to isolate and destroy me. Instead he eliminated anything that might deter the inevitable. Dangerous is the unpredictable enemy who fears little and has even less to risk.

[Grozer]

//Update: Added part III above

[Grozer]

//Update: Started part IV above, still in process

[Grozer]

//Finished part IV above. Thanks for reading.