Gdog4evr
15-06-2004, 02:04
Ever get an idea late at night and then go with it? This story is one of those; hopefully it's better than the last time I tried that *shudder*.
The Splash Before the Ripple
A young sorceress entered the Mage’s Flask tavern and peered into the large crowded room. This single area seemed larger than the building itself from the outside, although it was impossible to determine if this was due to an enchantment or merely a trick of the eye. The place was filled with tables, surrounded largely by gaunt old men in beards and long robes, chatting idly over steaming concoctions. The smell of their pipes hung in the air like a faint cloud, mildly suffocating but slightly pleasant.
The sorceress’ entrance went largely unnoticed, as this establishment usually catered to the magically inclined. Her eyes swept the room as she walked slowly between the benches, her footsteps on the wooden floor barely audible over the quiet din of conversation. At last, she had made her way to a small round table in the darkest corner of the Mage’s Flask, where an individual sat drinking from a chipped plaster tea cup. Nervously, she sat down and faced the man who was studying her, and watched him for a moment in turn.
He was an ancient sorcerer, and she could tell by the markings on his robe that he studied mainly elemental magic, much like herself. His face was heavily scuffed by the wrinkles of age and the scars of war, but through the years his eyes had remained vibrant.
The young sorceress licked her dry lips and leaned forward, asking in a hushed whisper, “Are you Adisa?”. The calm eyes watching her never flickered. The cup in his hand continued to steam listlessly as her question went unanswered. She cleared her throat and asked again, slightly louder, “Are you the warrior mage Adisa?” Silence once more. “Are you the one who aided Antaeus the Warrior in his defeat against the Lord of Terror? Who trained Akinyi, the sorceress who defeated the Prime Evils?” She sat back as the man continued to sit in silence. At last she shook her head and stood, saying grimly, “I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong person.” She turned and walked away.
“I am he,” called out a slightly frail voice behind her. She whirled around as he continued speaking. “…of whom you speak.”
“Ah. Yes. Good,” she quickly retook her seat across from him. “Sir,” she began. “I have traveled here to find you and learn from your wisdom.”
“And what morsel of wisdom do you wish an old man to spare?” Adisa asked, his voice carrying a hint of a rasp.
“Anything you may have to spare, any grain of knowledge,” implored the sorceress.
“Knowledge?” asked the old man. She nodded. “Knowledge, is a dangerous thing, young woman.” he said slowly. “A bit of bread is good for the body, but what if you choke?”
“Sir,” she began incredulously. “How could one choke on wisdom such as you have?”
“Indeed?” asked the mage. “How could a man fall into peril from such a thing? I shall tell you, young woman, how such a thing is possible.” For the first time since their initial meeting, Adisa shifted in his seat. He took a sip of his cooling tea, then looked up at her again. “You, just now, referred to me training Akinyi? You meant to infer that I was partially responsible then, for banishing the Prime Evils back to hell?” he asked. The sorceress nodded silently. “Well, you would be wrong to give me such an honor. No, my good lady, I was responsible for the release of the Three in the first place.” A rush of color flooded the young sorceress’ cheeks. It took her a moment to find her words.
“How is that possible?” she asked. “You fought against the dark tides tooth and nail!”
“I did,” Adisa agreed. “And now I shall tell you why.”
*****Seventy Five Years Prior: Tristram*****
Antaeus lifted his short sword just in time to block the heavy blade swung at him, but the force of the strike was still enough to drive him back into the stone wall. Several yards away, Blood Raven shot arrow after arrow into the Butcher’s side, while Adisa repeatedly pulled energy from the ether realms and launched them at the monster as bolts of fire. The Butcher ignored them and continued marching towards Antaeus, who was breathing heavily and slouching against the wall.
The Butcher raised his cleaver once more, and brought it crashing down just as the warrior spun to the right, avoiding the blow. He raced to join his companions as the Butcher wheeled around to face him. “Friends, we must find a new way to dispatch this foe!” Antaeus cried, readying himself for another assault.
“Think he’s smart enough to open doors?” grimaced Adisa, fighting the rising migraines that repeated spell casting brought. “Maybe we could hide behind one of the fenced off areas and shoot him through the bars.”
“I think we should keep doing it like this,” replied Blood Raven, as she and the others retreated from the Butchers surprisingly fast form. “Antaeus keeps him busy with some fast footwork, Adisa and me ware him down from a distance.”
“I CAN’T stand toe-to-toe against him!” snapped the warrior, dodging to the side to avoid another slice of the cleaver. The Butcher turned away from him and started advancing towards Blood Raven.
“You don’t have to” she replied calmly. “Just make sure he is following you and not one of us… like he is now!” she screamed as the Butcher charged her, slashing through her minimal defenses. Her cries were cut short as the thick heavy blade easily sliced through her thin armor and dug into her body.
“Raven!” Antaeus screamed, as he ran with all his remaining strength and began hacking at the Butcher’s neck with his dull sword. His rage-induced strength added immense power to his strikes, severing the Butchers head from his shoulders on the third blow before the beast had a chance to respond. The warrior dropped to his knees as the Butcher crashed lifelessly to the ground, and cradled the slain rogue in his arms. “Do something!” he barked at Adisa, his eyes blazing. Adisa bit his lip and considered his options.
Looking into the ether realms, he could tell that her soul was fast detaching from her mortal frame. Even the healing potion that the warrior was now fumbling with would not heal her in time to capture her spirit. Silently, Adisa stooped next to where the warrior was crouched and began drawing on the thick layer of dust and grime that encrusted the mason floor with his finger.
“What are you…” began Antaeus.
“Silence, I have to think,” snapped Adisa, as he continued to sketch an intricate design. Blood Raven’s eyes focused on the warrior for a moment, then rolled back as the flow of essence from her wound began to ebb. The sorcerer continued scratching the floor quickly as the warrior clutched Blood Raven to his chest and wept. As soon as the last swirl was completed, the whole piece began to glow with an other-worldly light. “Do you have any more healing potions?” asked Adisa.
“I’ve just given her two, we’re down to our last one,” sobbed Antaeus, desperately trying to maintain some level of control over his emotions.
“Poor it directly into the wound.” Antaeus did as he was instructed, as Adisa pulled a second staff from his pack and began chanting, focusing the healing energies stored within the very grain of the wood unto the gash. The warrior wanted to know more about glowing design that was slowly growing dim, but did not dare interrupt the sorcerer again.
The bone, flesh, and sinew of Blood Raven’s body slowly mended itself, her cells responding to the commands of the potions and spells despite the fact that death had already claimed them. Antaeus despaired; he knew that they were to late. Her body continued to cool, and he could tell that rigor mortis was already setting in. The sheer volume of vitae lost was nearly stunning, and the red hues partially mixed with the purple essence spilled from the Butcher.
“I think that’s enough,” whispered the wizard, who then dipped his fingertips into the pool of the rogue’s blood and began brushing the still faintly glowing design away. It disappeared completely as the tracks of blood obscured the carefully sketched loops.
“I still don’t understand what this is meant to accomplish,” asked the warrior, wiping the tears from his eyes on his sleeve.
“Just watch her,” replied Adisa, and leaned back to observe as well. Antaeus peered down at the rogue, her eyes lifeless and body limp. The warrior nearly dropped her as a rasping sound came from deep within her throat. Slowly, laboriously, Blood Raven inhaled.
“By the gods…” whispered Antaeus, hardly believing what he was seeing. The rogue seemed to be attempting to speak, but she was only able to produce a few basic moans. “How did you do this?” the warrior asked, his eyes holding a mixture of awe, fear, and confusion.
“That rune I drew into the ground,” explained Adisa. “I learned it from a necromancer many years ago. It acts almost like a temporary …”
“Water,” begged Blood Raven, finally making her desires known.
“Let’s take her up to Pepin’s. You can finish telling me there,” decided the warrior, lifting Blood Raven off the ground and heading towards the stair case.
Thirty minutes later, Blood Raven was feeling well enough to sit up and listen, and so Adisa continued his explanation quietly for both of them.
“That rune I drew,” he began again. “acted as a temporary Soul Stone. It kept Blood Raven’s soul from traveling very far from her body, and when we had healed her enough to live, I used her blood to rebind her spirit to her flesh.
“It’s astonishing you were able to do that,” breathed Blood Raven. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It wasn’t nearly as powerful as you’re probably imagining,” smiled Adisa. “A few moments more and your spirit would have broken free. It didn’t have nearly the strength as the true Soul Stones, that you can be sure of.”
“What are these Soul Stones you keep going on about?” asked Antaeus, raising an eyebrow.
“Legends speak of how the old time Horadrick mages bound the Prime Evils within three relics, delivered to them by the Archangel Tyreal,” replied the Sorcerer. “Most interesting of these stories was of how one of the Soul Stones became shattered, and the mage Tal Rasha took the largest shard into his own body in order to hold Baal at bay.”
“Is that true?” asked Blood Raven, knowing that some of these “legends” were merely stories for entertainment.
“Many believe it is so,” replied Adios. Antaeus stroked his chin thoughtfully. There was a brief pause.
“I must ask both of you a favor,” said the wizard suddenly, straightening. “I must ask that neither of you speak of what I did, ever. My clan does not tolerate the workings of the Priests of Rathma, and there are… other guilds who would take serious objection to what may look like black magic trying to alter fate. My life, and probably Blood Raven’s, hinges on this remaining a secret.” The other two glanced at each other, and nodded solemnly.
*****Present Day: The Mage‘s Flask tavern*****
“And so you have it,” finished Adisa. He took a sip of his tea and winced; it was now as warm as the frosty air that surrounded them, the temperature only serving to enhance the watery taste.
“Wait a moment, I don’t understand,” replied the sorceress, the spell that had captured her for the duration of the story now broken. “What did you mean by choking on a morsel of knowledge? The necromancer’s rune served you well!” Adisa shook his head, frowning.
“You haven’t learned your history well, have you?” the old wizard croaked. “Didn’t they ever tell you how Diablo came to infect the Dark Wanderer?”
“Well, our teacher tried to tell us that Antaeus drove the Soul Stone directly into his own head, but I didn’t believe that-”
“He did,” Adisa interrupted. “When I told him that brief tidbit about Tal Rasha, I didn’t expect anything to come of it. It was common knowledge for us mages, young lady, and even some of the commoners knew about it.” The old man continued as a look of comprehension dawned in the eyes of the sorceress. “Somehow, my old friend had gotten the wrong idea. He…”
Adisa stopped for a moment as he remembered the battle against Terror. The images came as a flash, streaming through his brain from three quarters of a century ago, yet still fresh in his mind. Antaeus had made the final blow, his much revered weapon known as the King’s Sword of Haste flashing crimson as he landed strike upon strike. At last Diablo fell at his feet, vanquished to rise no more. When the warrior kneeled down to pry the stone from Diablo’s forehead, Adisa first believed he wanted it as a trophy, or perhaps to hide or destroy it. His stomach lurched as Antaeus first tested the weight of the stone, then drove it into his own skull.
The terrible screams that still haunted Adisa at nights snapped the old wizard out of his reverie. The young sorceress was gently shaking his arm, asking if he was alright. “No,” he replied at last. “But I will be. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.” He straightened and signaled the bar keep for a fresh cup of tea. “What I hope you take with you from this story, young lady, is that a little knowledge can be dangerous. Had Antaeus known what he was getting into, or had I explained how the Soul Stones work more fully, everything that had happened would have been avoided.” The sorceress nodded once more, her brow creased.
“Just one question,” she began. “You made your friends swear to never tell this tale. Why have you revealed it to me?”
“After all these years, I’m ready to meet my fate,” replied Adisa. “Besides,” he smiled, “I’m not entirely sure anyone would believe you.” The young sorceress had to admit he had a point.
She left that tavern; wiser than before as she planned, but not as she expected.
The Splash Before the Ripple
A young sorceress entered the Mage’s Flask tavern and peered into the large crowded room. This single area seemed larger than the building itself from the outside, although it was impossible to determine if this was due to an enchantment or merely a trick of the eye. The place was filled with tables, surrounded largely by gaunt old men in beards and long robes, chatting idly over steaming concoctions. The smell of their pipes hung in the air like a faint cloud, mildly suffocating but slightly pleasant.
The sorceress’ entrance went largely unnoticed, as this establishment usually catered to the magically inclined. Her eyes swept the room as she walked slowly between the benches, her footsteps on the wooden floor barely audible over the quiet din of conversation. At last, she had made her way to a small round table in the darkest corner of the Mage’s Flask, where an individual sat drinking from a chipped plaster tea cup. Nervously, she sat down and faced the man who was studying her, and watched him for a moment in turn.
He was an ancient sorcerer, and she could tell by the markings on his robe that he studied mainly elemental magic, much like herself. His face was heavily scuffed by the wrinkles of age and the scars of war, but through the years his eyes had remained vibrant.
The young sorceress licked her dry lips and leaned forward, asking in a hushed whisper, “Are you Adisa?”. The calm eyes watching her never flickered. The cup in his hand continued to steam listlessly as her question went unanswered. She cleared her throat and asked again, slightly louder, “Are you the warrior mage Adisa?” Silence once more. “Are you the one who aided Antaeus the Warrior in his defeat against the Lord of Terror? Who trained Akinyi, the sorceress who defeated the Prime Evils?” She sat back as the man continued to sit in silence. At last she shook her head and stood, saying grimly, “I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong person.” She turned and walked away.
“I am he,” called out a slightly frail voice behind her. She whirled around as he continued speaking. “…of whom you speak.”
“Ah. Yes. Good,” she quickly retook her seat across from him. “Sir,” she began. “I have traveled here to find you and learn from your wisdom.”
“And what morsel of wisdom do you wish an old man to spare?” Adisa asked, his voice carrying a hint of a rasp.
“Anything you may have to spare, any grain of knowledge,” implored the sorceress.
“Knowledge?” asked the old man. She nodded. “Knowledge, is a dangerous thing, young woman.” he said slowly. “A bit of bread is good for the body, but what if you choke?”
“Sir,” she began incredulously. “How could one choke on wisdom such as you have?”
“Indeed?” asked the mage. “How could a man fall into peril from such a thing? I shall tell you, young woman, how such a thing is possible.” For the first time since their initial meeting, Adisa shifted in his seat. He took a sip of his cooling tea, then looked up at her again. “You, just now, referred to me training Akinyi? You meant to infer that I was partially responsible then, for banishing the Prime Evils back to hell?” he asked. The sorceress nodded silently. “Well, you would be wrong to give me such an honor. No, my good lady, I was responsible for the release of the Three in the first place.” A rush of color flooded the young sorceress’ cheeks. It took her a moment to find her words.
“How is that possible?” she asked. “You fought against the dark tides tooth and nail!”
“I did,” Adisa agreed. “And now I shall tell you why.”
*****Seventy Five Years Prior: Tristram*****
Antaeus lifted his short sword just in time to block the heavy blade swung at him, but the force of the strike was still enough to drive him back into the stone wall. Several yards away, Blood Raven shot arrow after arrow into the Butcher’s side, while Adisa repeatedly pulled energy from the ether realms and launched them at the monster as bolts of fire. The Butcher ignored them and continued marching towards Antaeus, who was breathing heavily and slouching against the wall.
The Butcher raised his cleaver once more, and brought it crashing down just as the warrior spun to the right, avoiding the blow. He raced to join his companions as the Butcher wheeled around to face him. “Friends, we must find a new way to dispatch this foe!” Antaeus cried, readying himself for another assault.
“Think he’s smart enough to open doors?” grimaced Adisa, fighting the rising migraines that repeated spell casting brought. “Maybe we could hide behind one of the fenced off areas and shoot him through the bars.”
“I think we should keep doing it like this,” replied Blood Raven, as she and the others retreated from the Butchers surprisingly fast form. “Antaeus keeps him busy with some fast footwork, Adisa and me ware him down from a distance.”
“I CAN’T stand toe-to-toe against him!” snapped the warrior, dodging to the side to avoid another slice of the cleaver. The Butcher turned away from him and started advancing towards Blood Raven.
“You don’t have to” she replied calmly. “Just make sure he is following you and not one of us… like he is now!” she screamed as the Butcher charged her, slashing through her minimal defenses. Her cries were cut short as the thick heavy blade easily sliced through her thin armor and dug into her body.
“Raven!” Antaeus screamed, as he ran with all his remaining strength and began hacking at the Butcher’s neck with his dull sword. His rage-induced strength added immense power to his strikes, severing the Butchers head from his shoulders on the third blow before the beast had a chance to respond. The warrior dropped to his knees as the Butcher crashed lifelessly to the ground, and cradled the slain rogue in his arms. “Do something!” he barked at Adisa, his eyes blazing. Adisa bit his lip and considered his options.
Looking into the ether realms, he could tell that her soul was fast detaching from her mortal frame. Even the healing potion that the warrior was now fumbling with would not heal her in time to capture her spirit. Silently, Adisa stooped next to where the warrior was crouched and began drawing on the thick layer of dust and grime that encrusted the mason floor with his finger.
“What are you…” began Antaeus.
“Silence, I have to think,” snapped Adisa, as he continued to sketch an intricate design. Blood Raven’s eyes focused on the warrior for a moment, then rolled back as the flow of essence from her wound began to ebb. The sorcerer continued scratching the floor quickly as the warrior clutched Blood Raven to his chest and wept. As soon as the last swirl was completed, the whole piece began to glow with an other-worldly light. “Do you have any more healing potions?” asked Adisa.
“I’ve just given her two, we’re down to our last one,” sobbed Antaeus, desperately trying to maintain some level of control over his emotions.
“Poor it directly into the wound.” Antaeus did as he was instructed, as Adisa pulled a second staff from his pack and began chanting, focusing the healing energies stored within the very grain of the wood unto the gash. The warrior wanted to know more about glowing design that was slowly growing dim, but did not dare interrupt the sorcerer again.
The bone, flesh, and sinew of Blood Raven’s body slowly mended itself, her cells responding to the commands of the potions and spells despite the fact that death had already claimed them. Antaeus despaired; he knew that they were to late. Her body continued to cool, and he could tell that rigor mortis was already setting in. The sheer volume of vitae lost was nearly stunning, and the red hues partially mixed with the purple essence spilled from the Butcher.
“I think that’s enough,” whispered the wizard, who then dipped his fingertips into the pool of the rogue’s blood and began brushing the still faintly glowing design away. It disappeared completely as the tracks of blood obscured the carefully sketched loops.
“I still don’t understand what this is meant to accomplish,” asked the warrior, wiping the tears from his eyes on his sleeve.
“Just watch her,” replied Adisa, and leaned back to observe as well. Antaeus peered down at the rogue, her eyes lifeless and body limp. The warrior nearly dropped her as a rasping sound came from deep within her throat. Slowly, laboriously, Blood Raven inhaled.
“By the gods…” whispered Antaeus, hardly believing what he was seeing. The rogue seemed to be attempting to speak, but she was only able to produce a few basic moans. “How did you do this?” the warrior asked, his eyes holding a mixture of awe, fear, and confusion.
“That rune I drew into the ground,” explained Adisa. “I learned it from a necromancer many years ago. It acts almost like a temporary …”
“Water,” begged Blood Raven, finally making her desires known.
“Let’s take her up to Pepin’s. You can finish telling me there,” decided the warrior, lifting Blood Raven off the ground and heading towards the stair case.
Thirty minutes later, Blood Raven was feeling well enough to sit up and listen, and so Adisa continued his explanation quietly for both of them.
“That rune I drew,” he began again. “acted as a temporary Soul Stone. It kept Blood Raven’s soul from traveling very far from her body, and when we had healed her enough to live, I used her blood to rebind her spirit to her flesh.
“It’s astonishing you were able to do that,” breathed Blood Raven. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It wasn’t nearly as powerful as you’re probably imagining,” smiled Adisa. “A few moments more and your spirit would have broken free. It didn’t have nearly the strength as the true Soul Stones, that you can be sure of.”
“What are these Soul Stones you keep going on about?” asked Antaeus, raising an eyebrow.
“Legends speak of how the old time Horadrick mages bound the Prime Evils within three relics, delivered to them by the Archangel Tyreal,” replied the Sorcerer. “Most interesting of these stories was of how one of the Soul Stones became shattered, and the mage Tal Rasha took the largest shard into his own body in order to hold Baal at bay.”
“Is that true?” asked Blood Raven, knowing that some of these “legends” were merely stories for entertainment.
“Many believe it is so,” replied Adios. Antaeus stroked his chin thoughtfully. There was a brief pause.
“I must ask both of you a favor,” said the wizard suddenly, straightening. “I must ask that neither of you speak of what I did, ever. My clan does not tolerate the workings of the Priests of Rathma, and there are… other guilds who would take serious objection to what may look like black magic trying to alter fate. My life, and probably Blood Raven’s, hinges on this remaining a secret.” The other two glanced at each other, and nodded solemnly.
*****Present Day: The Mage‘s Flask tavern*****
“And so you have it,” finished Adisa. He took a sip of his tea and winced; it was now as warm as the frosty air that surrounded them, the temperature only serving to enhance the watery taste.
“Wait a moment, I don’t understand,” replied the sorceress, the spell that had captured her for the duration of the story now broken. “What did you mean by choking on a morsel of knowledge? The necromancer’s rune served you well!” Adisa shook his head, frowning.
“You haven’t learned your history well, have you?” the old wizard croaked. “Didn’t they ever tell you how Diablo came to infect the Dark Wanderer?”
“Well, our teacher tried to tell us that Antaeus drove the Soul Stone directly into his own head, but I didn’t believe that-”
“He did,” Adisa interrupted. “When I told him that brief tidbit about Tal Rasha, I didn’t expect anything to come of it. It was common knowledge for us mages, young lady, and even some of the commoners knew about it.” The old man continued as a look of comprehension dawned in the eyes of the sorceress. “Somehow, my old friend had gotten the wrong idea. He…”
Adisa stopped for a moment as he remembered the battle against Terror. The images came as a flash, streaming through his brain from three quarters of a century ago, yet still fresh in his mind. Antaeus had made the final blow, his much revered weapon known as the King’s Sword of Haste flashing crimson as he landed strike upon strike. At last Diablo fell at his feet, vanquished to rise no more. When the warrior kneeled down to pry the stone from Diablo’s forehead, Adisa first believed he wanted it as a trophy, or perhaps to hide or destroy it. His stomach lurched as Antaeus first tested the weight of the stone, then drove it into his own skull.
The terrible screams that still haunted Adisa at nights snapped the old wizard out of his reverie. The young sorceress was gently shaking his arm, asking if he was alright. “No,” he replied at last. “But I will be. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.” He straightened and signaled the bar keep for a fresh cup of tea. “What I hope you take with you from this story, young lady, is that a little knowledge can be dangerous. Had Antaeus known what he was getting into, or had I explained how the Soul Stones work more fully, everything that had happened would have been avoided.” The sorceress nodded once more, her brow creased.
“Just one question,” she began. “You made your friends swear to never tell this tale. Why have you revealed it to me?”
“After all these years, I’m ready to meet my fate,” replied Adisa. “Besides,” he smiled, “I’m not entirely sure anyone would believe you.” The young sorceress had to admit he had a point.
She left that tavern; wiser than before as she planned, but not as she expected.