November 2003 - Mail Archives

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Jayne
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November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 8:36 pm

Proclamation and Bounty List.
Author: J.D. Strausse
Date: 2 November 2003

The following proclamation is posted throughout the city and read aloud by
criers:

"Effective Immediately, sections one, four, and eight of *Edict 25 are hereby repealed by the Crown. Bounties posted by the Royal Guard and Chancellery may now be sought -by anyone- who choses to do so.

WANTED BY THE REALM:

(Description of Damur`Redblade) for Assault of a Crown Official.
Reward: 100 crowns, dead or alive.
Ewan Struecker for Conspiracy and Disobeying a Crown Official.
Reward: 50 crowns, alive.
Jah Kahn for Assault of a Crown Official.
Reward: 300 crowns, dead or alive.
(Description of Pardus) for Assault of a Crown Official.
Reward: 200 crowns, dead or alive.
(Description of Syrus`Valiadryn) for Assault of a Crown Official.
Reward: 100 crowns, dead or alive.
(Description of Theodrich`Valiadryn) for Assault of a Crown Official.
Reward: 100 crowns, dead or alive.
(Description of Tyouk) for Assault of a Crown Official.
Reward: 100 crowns, dead or alive.
.
Reward will be tendered to the person or persons delivering the fugitive or, in cases where the fugitive is wanted "dead or alive," the fugitive's head to the Guardhouse."

*Edict 25 - The Bounty Hunters of Arangoth can be found at http://www.blkdragon.com/laws.htm about halfway down the page. ;) If you have questions about what effect of the repealed sections of the edict are, feel free to /query me (MunInFull / Resque) or anyone else with an @ in front of their name.

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 8:39 pm

Hand to Hand Melee Tournament in Drache
Author: Eric
Date 3 November 2003



Dates to be announced. Drache will be the location for the semi-annual Arangothian hand to hand combat tournament. Your tournament hosts will be Marin Taldett and Sirius, Drache's two newest and last licensed bounty hunters.

The rules for the tournament are as follows:

IC Rules:



1. No blades, no bows, no weapons of any kind.

2. No magical or mystical influences. No protection spells or magic missiles.

3. No familiars, or assistance from any other creature in battle.

4. If one opponent is rendered unconscious, he or she will be declared the loser without contest.

5. All judgments are final and can not be negotiated.

6. "Clean" fighting is expected. Biting, scratching or any technique not considered "fair" will be delegated by the judges and can be grounds for immediate disqualification.



OOC Rules:



1. One character per person.

2. No arguing of attacks or outcomes of battles, this will be decided by the judges.

3. Judges decisions are final.

4. Decisions will be made at the end of each match by anonymous votes among the judges.

5. Judgments will be based on effectiveness and the realistic quality of each attack.

6. "Size matters not." - Yoda

7. The tournament will be based on a "bracket" style ranking. The champion will be given a trophy, a cash prize (In Character), and an honorary title.

8. The matches will be three rounds and each round will be judged separately. The winner will be judged by an average.

9. The rounds are twelve minutes rounds and there are three rounds per fight.



Last, but not least, the judges chosen will be random and anonymous. All judgements will be made out of character and Marin and Sirius will announce the decisions in character, at the end of the fight.

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 8:44 pm

Message to Arangoth
Author: Jackal Alleb
Date: 5 November 2003



***a flyer will be found tacked to buildings, trees and doors. A similar flyer is given to Dulcina and more mailed to each of the Royal Guard and the Magistrates.***

Attention Arangoth and all subjects and citizens within!

It is my pleasure to invite each of you to the wedding ceremony of myself and my wife, Merak Vlorress, previously known as Merak Nunki. The party will be held on my ship, the Merak (located two miles from the city of Drache), in exactly three days. It is my sincerest wish that each and all of you attend. Formal attire is required, so please look your best and be on your best behavior, this is a happy occasion! Wedding gifts are not requested, as the customs of Arangothian weddings are different from those of other countries.

Thank you all for reading this and wish us luck.

Sincerely,
Captain Silverhair (Silver)

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 8:46 pm

Another Message to Arangoth
Author: Jackal Alleb
Date: 5 November 2003

***a flyer will be found attached to buildings in public places, some handed to Dulcina to be handed out and posted around the Black Dragon, and others just tacked in various places***

An Urgent Request!

To all of Arangoth and Drache especially,
I was recently tended to affairs in another country, and when I returned I found that many of my trusted employees have left their jobs. With winter getting close I will need a great deal of help in caring for the horses currently stabled at Haven.

I ask for as many hardy souls as I can get to come and work either full time or part time.
All applicants please come to either the Black Dragon Inn or Haven itself, located ten miles from the city of Drache. Must have past experience with caring for horses and horse-like creatures, mild temperament when dealing with aforementioned animals and willing to work.

Please help me, many of these horses are young and need a great deal of care and I'm only one man. Auditions will be held from Thursday until Saturday

Sincerely,
Wayland Stone (owner of Haven Horse Retreat)

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:00 pm

Unto Maximilien Reizeau (The Vlorress Affair)
Author: Dan
Date: 7 November 2003

Unto Vorfon Maximilien Reizeau, my fellow Regent Councilor, greetings and salutations.

Maxamilien, I write to you to inform you that I will be riding with all possible speed to Hornath-ul-Marfed to meet with my Cousin, the King. By the time you receive this missive, I will already be well out of the city, riding as fast as the horses I requisition can carry me. I do wish to leave you in the uncomfortable position of being the lone Councilor left in the city during my absence, but an earlier written missive to Arlok has not yet received a response, and I know not whether it has been neglected, or failed to arrive at its destination. This uncomfortable impasse with the Chancellery will not stand indefinitely, and I intend to seek resolution of this matter with all possible speed. I only hope that the magistrates of the Chancellery do not seek to do the same before I return. Our list of allies is short, and I cannot say with certainty who will support us when this matter comes to a head. Lorla Daranek has recently returned to Drache, and has offered her assistance to us in any capacity we might need her. I advise you to seek her out while I am gone.

Chancellor Bourne has flaunted the fact that his authority devolves from the King and not from us in the past when it suited him to do so, so I find it inexcusable that he has resigned and turned the Chancellery over to his magistrates to run by committee, rather than submitting to the will of the King and awaiting the appointment of a new Lord Chancellor.

I know that I was the dissenting vote in the decision to grant citizenship to Tespin Vlorress, and that my personal sentiments seem to be more closely in line with those of the Chancellery, but my loyalty is above all to Arangoth. The Magistrates of the Chancellery are scholars of the law, and their blatant disregard to that which they are supposed to uphold is a disgrace to their office. They, who have been empowered with a portion of the King's judicial authority to mete out justice, are on the brink of causing the complete collapse of Royal Authority in the South. Order cannot prevail if officers of the Crown feel free to disregard any law or lawfully given command which they find distasteful. We have seen Drache through many crises in the past, and Officers of the Crown should know above all how essential unity is to the survival of the city. Should this conflict degenerate into civil war, we would be inviting villains of all stripes into the city with open arms to capitalize on our dissent and multiply the misery of the people of Drache.

I pray with all fervor to Menxvan that my mission to the north may be concluded swiftly and successfully, and this entire matter concluded without a drop of blood spilled. It is my hope that I will return with the Royal Authority--and if necessary, the soldiers--to put an end to the Chancellery's illegal defiance and restore the rule of law in Drache. I pray especially that I will have no need for the soldiers which I will be requesting command of. I know not your religious sentiments, but I ask that you do the same for me.

I remain the servant of the Crown and the people of Arangoth. An Menxvan aptentrix ai Arangoth.*

Me exenim,**

Marcion ul-Fenduth Tagran Aldenbar

7. XI. 473.

[Seal affixed]

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:20 pm

Kept Awake
Author: Aeren Price
Date: 8 November 2003

She was so beautiful. Her hair, her eyes, those crimson lips peacefully letting out the calm, sweet smelling breaths from her lungs… everything about her was absolutely beautiful. He lay there, next to her in their large bed as the quiet night brought sounds of crickets chirping just outside their window. He’d propped his head up on his hand, content just to watch her sleep next to him. His pale green eyes swept down her curves, beneath the velvet sheet, as her chest rose and fell softly with each dreaming breath. He wanted to touch her, to see if this vision really could be real, yet he did not. He was merely satisfied with watching her for the moment.

Everything was perfect, it seemed. He’d waited such a long time for that feeling to return. It was that knowledge that he was with his true love, his soul mate in a world that hated them, that had carried him through that horrible hell that he’d spent years living. Living, perhaps, wasn’t the right word. Dying, every day dying, would more accurately describe that existence. Cursed with solitude, with pain and fear, he sat within the cold cell of his mind. At first he screamed, but as the days melted away, so did his rage and defiance. It had been inevitable that he would buckle to the pain and agony, and though his defiance still lurked somewhere within his mind, he would no longer scream. Time, it seemed, had always been his enemy.

Yet now, at the other end of that deep valley of emotions, time seemed to slip by too quickly. He would spend eternity with the beautiful woman who lay next to him. He tried to grasp the hell he’d endured, to capture it within that little box that was his conscious remembrance… he could not. As he watched his love sleep, he could not fathom how he’d endured all of that agony and fear. It seemed like a faded nightmare, now, with reflections of sorrow echoing from his subconscious. It was nightmare that was all too real.

But it was over now…

Aeren couldn’t help the shudder that crept through his spine for a brief moment, and he closed his eyes to fight away the horrible echoes that resounded within him. Swallowing, he opened his eyes again to look at his sleeping love. She was still peaceful, still breathing her serene sleep. To look at her now, he almost could not believe how much pain she, herself, had endured. The loneliness, the guilt… all of it must have been so terrible. Only a love such as theirs could have lasted through all of what had happened. For a second, his heart ached for her, and he found himself wishing he could have taken her place through all of it, adding her pain to his own. He pushed the thought away for the moment as she stirred slightly next to him. It was pointless to wish such things. Her pain was her own, as the same as his, and it helped her become what she had become.

A smile came to his lips. He reached over to her, gently brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I love you, Morrow,” he said in his quiet whisper. The phrase would never capture the depth of his feelings for her, but he knew she understood that. When they told each other of their love, the words were only half of the communication. Their eyes, their tone, their very souls would resonate together with the emotions they held for each other.

Slowly, he peeled off the sheet and sat up at the side of the bed. His bare torso flexed as he stretched, and he rose, walking softly over to the window to peer out into the night sky. He brought his head to rest on his forearm as he leaned against the side of the window and gazed out to the starry sky. His thoughts swirled within his mind, thousands at once, passing by as he merely watched. The moon shone brightly on his pale face, and he stared at it through his cloud of thoughts. He pursed his lips at that moment, reflecting back on how much he’d loved that moon… how often he’d viewed it as some goddess of protection that was watching over him. How foolish that seemed now, for he had long ago realized that his only protection was in his drive within himself, and in the love of the woman that slept in the bed behind him. It saddened him that it took a nightmare such as that past few years to make him come to that realization… but, at least he had endured it, and he had learned his lesson very, very well.

Yet, even now he felt weak. He felt as if that nightmare had more of a grip on him than he wanted to admit, and that made him feel even weaker. The past years had drained the confidence from his spirit, and the defiance in his actions. He felt like a ghost, almost, like an old man who flinched at every subtle hint of agony as he hid within his paranoid mind. It didn’t feel right. Yes, he was happy to be within that room with his love at his side. Yes, he was happy to be alive and free again. But, perhaps, he was too happy… perhaps too scared… to risk it all again for that familiar cry within his soul. It was a cry of hatred, of anger, of defiance. It was a cry for justice from a world that had once destroyed him and would not let up until he could not bounce back. It was a cry for revenge…

Aeren closed his eyes again. It was almost funny; throughout all that pain and fear, he’d thought that “cry” had been buried beneath his broken spirits. Yet, he could hear it now, still a whisper, but gaining in strength. Opening his eyes, he turned and leaned his back against the wall as he crossed his arms and watched the sleeping form of Morrow again. Would that cry consume him again? Would he forever hide within that room, never taking a chance to risk anything? Would he get his justice? No matter what the answers were, he knew that Morrow would be with him through everything. He took such comfort in that. He took such comfort in admitting how much he really needed her, and how she would always be there… filling that need.

Finally pushing off the wall, he walked to the large oak armoire on the other side of the room. Opening it, he pulled his tight, black, long-sleeved shirt from one of the drawers and slipped his over his head. He chanced a glance at his love and paused. She slept so peacefully… so content. She would be fearsome in the coming war… the war they would wage upon the world. Slipping his arms through the sleeves, he closed the door to the armoire and stepped over to her side of the bed. There, he crouched next to her, gazing down at her beautiful body. He reached out, running a hand over her forehead, and then bent over to kiss her softly on the lips. She stirred slightly, but did not wake, and Aeren rose.

He moved out into the large room next to theirs. Above the fireplace, mounted on the cold brick, were the two silver sickles that he’d used so many years ago. He gently pulled them from their hooks, caressing them in his pale hands before sheathing them in the loops at his back. His face was hardened, emotionless, as one who holds a sole purpose within his mind. Breathing slowly, he fought off the paranoid echoes that fluctuated through his mind. He would kill that fear. He would destroy the remnants of his nightmare, if it meant burning down the entire city.

He would kill tonight… but it would not be to feed… it would be purely to kill. His victim would probably be some fat merchant, or a loud-mouthed adventurer… most likely someone who would die a coward’s death, pleading for their life through tears of fear. It would be quick, and would fix that horrible sensation that ran beneath his skin. It would make him feel less weak, or so he hoped.

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:37 pm

Awakened
Author: S C
Date: 9 November 2003

It had been so short a time since that night that past, when Morrow had been stirred from her silent home, and urged to awaken to the one she'd always longed for. She had known it was him when she moved to that front door.. opened it.. viewed the darkened form across her cold front lawn.

They held a connection so strong, that she knew it was he before she'd ever set foot off that porch. She could feel him in her mind and in her aching heart, yet she couldn't let herself believe it to be true.. not until she could touch him. She'd felt so impossibly weak and overcome in those moments, that she had to strain to keep her knees from giving out and simply crumpling to the ground in a disbelieving pile.

Yet the moment he'd spoken her name, she felt a pure strength crash with that weakness, and she'd rushed to put her arms about the man she was never sure she'd see again.. at least in this lifetime.

Yet the warmth and familiarity of her husband washed over her in a moment of pure joy, and she realized finally, that he was truly there. That he had escaped his unimaginable prison of pain to be with her once more.

And she'd begun to feel stronger herself, in the knowing that her soul's love had returned, and would be by her side as they ventured out into this wretched and hateful world once again.

Just knowing that Aeren would be with her now, pulled her so easily from those seemingly endless years of loneliness, heartache and rage. And the Morrow of old was surfacing very quickly, the want and need for revenge and bloodshed, bubbling under her skin. It had been so long since she'd felt that delicious need, and she cradled it within her like a mother would a child.. waiting to be born.

For she was a creature born for destruction and massacre, and in these years without her beloved, she'd succumbed to a numbness that had drained her of her desire for the pain and fear of others.

She'd wilted away and sat silent in the darkness of her empty home, with no will to venture out and rise again.

Until now.

~~~~~~~~

Her dreams had become more and more vivid these past weeks, as though her mind were trying to build her back up to where she should be. Filling her subconscious visions with pictures of her love, and the destruction that they could bring to this world. To once more fill the minds and hearts of innocents with a fear that they have long lived without. In times past, people would shudder to hear her name spoken aloud, fearing that this wicked Dark Angel might hear that breath and find them. Taking their lives in such painful and brutal ways.

Yet time had slipped away, and nowadays she could walk the streets each night, without a second glance from passers by. She had gone into seclusion, and they had forgotten her.

Her dreams urged those old desires back into her mind, and she could feel the fire of them rising within her with a sweet and long-missed familiarity.

Yet this night, her dreams would be cut short, as she found herself awakening just in time to hear the front door open and close downstairs, leaving the house silent and still.

A glance to her side would reveal that empty space beside her in bed, and her brow would furrow in wondering upon where Aeren had gone off to in the middle of the night. Pale blue eyes would search the window to her right as she slowly sat up, pushing away from the bed to move towards that closed balcony door. Pulling it open with a swift breeze of cold night air, felt, she would slip barefoot out on to that frigid balcony floor. Her gaze would roam the dark trees and paths below, knowing her love had his reasons for leaving so. She would not question it, but would hope he would be alright.Slender, snow colored fingers would curl about the chilled metal railing before her, and she would draw in a slow breath...

" Wherever you have gone my love.. Whatever need you have succumbed to.. " lids would close a moment as she smiled slightly to the darkness about her.. " You know I am here if you need me.."

And with those words, she'd turn and move back into the comfort of their bedroom, slipping back into the warmth of velvet sheets upon wood framed bed. Ethereal eyes would close, yet she would not sleep again this night... She would remain awake and ready, should her beloved call to her.

Jayne
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:50 pm

Sleep not, for there are no dreams
Author: Karah Kerridwyn
Date: 9 November 2003

Marriska crouched on the roof of a building, watching, waiting. She takes in a deep breath through her lungs and then releases it. Why did she bother with such things, only she knew. Her stormy blue eyes look down to the street below her, seeing someone moving quickly through it, chasing one that was running.

She blinks a moment and then shakes her head. Should she allow this to happen? She stands, her knees popping slightly from the lack of movement for so long. She closes her eyes for a moment and then jumps down from the roof and to the street below. Quickly she catches up to the one pursing the other, gripping him by the collar. She sneers at him, her fangs showing. "Might I ask what it is that you are doing?" Stormy eyes narrowing slightly to peer at the other's.

A hiss erupts from the neonate, some fledgling vampire. "What business is it of yours, eh wench?"

Marriska growls at him and then slams him against the wall, placing a hand to his throat. "What business? Well, let's see..." Her head turns to the one that he was chasing, seeing that the woman had fled for her life and then looks back to him. "Seeing as we are in a town that does not like blood drinkers of any kind, and I am a blood drinker, you chasing after women and the like like that does place me in an awkward position. Not to mention the number of people that have probably already seen you in this disgusting form."

She presses her hand tighter against his throat as he tries to wiggle from it. "No doubt, that woman is going to come back, with a guard none the less and you or I will be killed. Seeing as I would rather it be you than I, I think I'll kill you now and be done with it. Or mayhaps I should string you up by your toes and penis and let you watch the sunrise. I think I prefer the stake and toe tying." She reaches for an old chair leg and then plunges it into his heart.

She clicks her tongue as she lets him fall to the ground in a heap. At the sound of footsteps she turns on her heels and then jumps to the roof of the nearby building. She crouches as indeed a guard and the woman come back. She shakes her head. "Let us only hope that he is seen to a proper extinction." Her voice whispers in the still, cool night.

She sits back on her haunches a moment, her eyes closing to the sounds of the night. "Sleep not, for there are dreams that are not meant for you to see. Seek not, for there is nothing to find." She pushes some air from her lungs and then stands. It was time to go home.

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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:57 pm

The Genesis of an Awaited Ressurection
Author: Aeren Price
Date: 10 November 2003

It was her scent, to be sure. He could not forget the scent of the woman who had followed him through the last days of his former life. Marriska still “lived”, which didn’t really surprise Aeren. He gave a small, yet dark, smile as a guard and a woman ran past the alleyway in which he leaned casually against a wall, his arms crossed beneath his crimson cloak. He heard their voices amidst the night’s shadow, though their words were of no concern. He waited within the shadows, his visage calm, collected, calculated as if the darkness was natural to him. Indeed, it was.

He pondered going after Marriska, catching up to her to tell her of his return, but immediately scraped the idea from his thoughts. She would know soon enough, and he was still not sure if she would be a “friend” or an “enemy”. His return would come a shock to many, a dread to others, and a hopeful tearful reunion for still others. They would all realize it soon enough; and he had all the time of existence to set his plans into motion. He took a strange comfort in that thought, which would seem odd to one who hadn’t known what he’d endured in the past years. He used to curse eternity and immortality, but now he welcomed it. It was his weapon against the world. No, he would let her go, and approach her later.

He heard the soft thudding of the guard’s footsteps as he, again, passed the alleyway, followed closely by the young woman. The guard was saying something about an investigation, and the woman looked all around her with wide eyes. It didn’t take more than a second for her to spot Aeren in the darkness, but it took that exact second for Aeren to capture her gaze within his own. She stood there, frozen in what looked like fascination, as the guard continued his quick step toward the nearest guardhouse, seemingly unaware that she’d stopped in her tracks. Aeren gave a dark smirk and the young woman blinked dreamily. He motioned with his head for her to approach and she did without hesitation. She was locked within his gaze, helpless in her mortal will to resist. She stepped to within a mere foot of the dark vampire.

In an instant, his pale hand shot out from beneath the cloak, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her into his. Those thin, but muscular, arms closed around her like a vice and they were off in the night, moving with vampiric quickness toward the edge of the city. Buildings flew by in a blur and she could barely keep from losing consciousness at the sickening sensation of such a quick speed. Soon, the buildings seemed to disappear, replaced by the dark forest all around them. The motion suddenly stopped, and she felt herself being dumped upon the chilly grass. She landed with a loud thud and fought the queasy feeling that still lingered in her stomach.

Aeren stood above her and popped his neck as he watched her fight to gain her senses. She slowly pushed herself up on her hands and knees, and Aeren cocked an eyebrow as a dark smile spread across his face. He seemed to take pleasure in watching the young woman struggle helplessly in front of him. She blinked a few times before raising her head to look at her dark companion. He looked like a mere silhouette against the clouds behind him, and his crimson cloak flapped slightly in the gentle night breeze. Suddenly he spoke, causing her to flinch at the coolness in his tone.

“What is your name?” Aeren crouched down next to her, staring her straight in the eyes. His pale green gaze seemed to bore into her, and she forced herself to stare back, though the fear had already taken hold. She trembled visibly and managed to muster up the strength for her reply.

“Julia—“

“No,” Aeren cut her off. She watched as he shook his head, the dark smile returning as he looked her over. “Your name is Sephora,” he said plainly. She blinked while he reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She shook even harder, her thoughts racing at what this dark stranger was going to do with her. Aeren seemed to notice the fear rising within her, though it seemed as if it only made the dark smile on his face widen. He reached down, taking one of her hands in his, as gently as a lover. She flinched at the coldness in his touch and she could feel her heart race faster and faster as he slowly brought her hand near his mouth, all the while keeping his pale green eyes on her own.

The young woman had no time to react as Aeren flipped her hand to the side and sank his sharp fangs into her wrist. She winced, nearly screaming, before her vision began to swim. The sensation was incredible, yet terrible, like the sweetest violation anyone could ask for. She heard herself moan softly as her eyes rolled slightly, and the fear and anxiety was suddenly gone as her mind exploded with the feeling of pleasure. The blood ran freely, and Aeren drank freely, always keeping his eyes on her face. In was less than a minute before he stopped the feeding, yet to the young woman it seemed like a blissful eternity. Her nerves tingled and she sank back onto the cool grass, trembling slightly as the euphoria left her.

“Now, Sephora,” Aeren said as he leaned over her. She looked up at him dreamily, like one who had just made love so intense that thought could hardly break the feeling. “Now, you are to back into the city and tell all who will listen about this ‘dream’ you’ve had.” She swallowed and nodded, fully accepting her new name and the commands that this lovely stranger had given her. “There is an entire society, unknown to you and your kind, who will be very interested in your story. Tell them of the feelings you feel right now, that they came from one you only know as Aeren.”

Again, she nodded, repeating the name over and over in her head. Aeren reached out, gripping her hand, and helped her to her feet. She stood there, dreamily looking into his eyes. He smirked again at her expression, and continued in his soft tone. “Tell them that the Dark Angel awaits her vengeance, and that there will be order brought to their society. Do you understand?” Sephora nodded again, and Aeren released her hand. Instantly, she began walking back towards the city, while Aeren watched her go.“It begins,” he said to himself under his breath. “She holds my mark on her wrist, and surely, the foolish undead of Drache will recognize the name.” He almost chuckled. Perhaps has was opening a new chapter of pain within his existence, but he was numb to that pain now. His beautiful Morrow was ready, as was he, to create the Hell that they would bring down upon their enemies; and now, he had thrown down the gauntlet, so to speak.

He had issued the challenge, and soon, the violence and the pain would ensue. He would welcome it again… his blood would bubble with the fire of revenge. He had not remembered how easy it was to control the mortals.

Turning, he stepped through the few trees that stood between the place where he’d broken “Sephora” and the home of his love. He popped his neck again as he ascended the front steps to the porch, but suddenly stopped. A strange feeling suddenly pricked against his thoughts, and it made him blink. Slowly, he pivoted on one foot and gazed out at the dark forest.

Nothing. He shook his head slightly, casting off the uneasy feeling that had suddenly interrupted his pleasure in victory, and opened the front door. Softly, in the distance, the caw of a raven echoed throughout the night
air…

Jayne
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Thu Apr 07, 2016 10:13 pm

The Childe of the Past
Author: Aeren Price
Date: 10 November 2003

Sephora had been at it for hours, running like a wild woman through the town during the chilly autumn morning. She stopped anyone on the street, raving madly about the mysterious Aeren who had given her a feeling she’d never experienced. She mentioned nothing about the bite, nothing about the blood, only about the intense emotions she had felt. Most of the people looked at her as if she were completely insane, others listened with patience, and a small few gave her their full attention. She rattled on and on about how her life had changed completely, and about how the world was a different place now.

Near noon, when the sun glowed brightest high in the sky, she came upon a sickly looking man, not over 20, who hunched against one of the outer walls of the Black Dragon Inn. She approached him with hurried steps, tugging on his dirty, blue tunic wildly. His deep set, darkly circled eyes stared at her with annoyance, but she didn’t notice.

“The world is anew, friend!” she exclaimed loudly. “I’ve felt the truth… the simple reality of it all!” She smiled broadly, as if she were some missionary relaying the message of her god. The man grimaced and turned away, but Sephora kept at it. “The world is a façade, made from the emotions within! Trust me, I’ve felt those raw emotions… the pure ecstasy of true reality!” The young man blinked, seeming caught by her last phrase. He turned back to her, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Slowly, his brown eyes narrowed.

“You’ve… ‘met’… someone?” he asked, prodding her to continue, his attention suddenly riveted on her words. She nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes! His name is Aeren, and he changed my life!” The young man’s jaw dropped, and his eyes grew wide for a moment. At this, Sephora hesitated. The man shook himself back to thinking, and reached out, taking Sephora’s arms in his hands.

“You’re a fool… someone has tarnished your thinking,” he said. Sephora was genuinely surprised. No one had reacted this way when she told them about Aeren. She blinked, even more surprised that the young man didn’t question the emotions she’d felt. Slowly, she nodded her head.

“His name was Aeren… he told me of the Dark Angel and her vengeance, and how order would be restored to—“

“It can’t be,” the young man whispered, cutting her off. He looked away, as if his thoughts had taken a journey far into his subconscious. He blinked once or twice, and Sephora waited for him, unsure of what to say or do. Suddenly, he let go of her arms, his face looking more pale and sickly than before. After a beat, he looked at her. “Go… tell others what you’ve experienced. I know what you feel… I know the feeling well. Use that feeling, for it will fade with time.” She blinked, and he walked away, down the street. Sephora shrugged slightly, not understanding what had just happened, but indeed, the feeling raged within her. She went off in the opposite direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night brought more cool weather and even darker shadows than any that had come before. The young man crept softly down the narrow path into the forest. His footfalls were nearly silent as he approached the small cottage within a clearing in the forest. He paused, looking up to the moon, before knocking softly on the door. He could hear the crackling fire from the fireplace within, and he could envision his Lady rising from her large, cushioned chair. The door swung open, and a woman, clad head to toe in midnight blue appraised him through chocolate brown eyes. He dropped to his knees immediately, grasping one of her hands and kissing it gently. She watched him with disinterest before motioning him inside.

The fire was burning brightly, casting ominous shadows in the corners of the room. Yet, the young man barely took a look around. He shook visibly, and this caused the woman’s eyebrow to rise.

“You’re late, Devon,” the woman said in a cool tone. The young man, Devon, swallowed hard and chanced a glance at the intoxicatingly beautiful face… a face which he’d eternally love, and eternally hate.

“I-I met someone today, my Lady. S-She spoke of… of the feeling…” he stammered, and the woman put her hands on her hips.

“The feeling?” she asked, waiting for clarity. Devon nodded.

“The feeling when you… drink from me,” he said, referring to those intense emotions and sensations associated with her drinking his blood. How he loved that feeling… like a thousand orgasms and a hundred joyous songs. How he dreaded that feeling… for he knew it would kill him one day. The woman barely flinched.

“So? Another slave to some evasive vampire. It happens a lot, Devon.” She turned and took her seat in the large chair by the fire. He swallowed again, lowering his gaze.

“But… she spoke of the one who drank from her. She said her name was Aeren.” Instantly, the woman’s eyes snapped to stare at Devon. Intensity unlike any he’d ever seen burned within those chocolate orbs. She was trembling almost immediately, and this unnerved Devon.

“What?” she said in a shaky, frail tone.

“She said she had experienced the feeling from one known as Aeren; and that the Dark Angel would have her vengeance.” He watched her face as it contorted into a deeply troubled look. She was silent, leaving the only sound in the room to the crackling flames in the hearth. Slowly, she raised a hand and waved him off. He blinked in surprise. “But… my Lady, do you not want to Take me tonight? My blood is yours.” There was no response. The woman sat in silence and Devon’s heart sank. He would be without the Feeling this night. Slowly, he stood and closed the door behind him as he left.

The woman sat silently for what seemed like hours, her thoughts swirling around the name of Aeren. After a while, a single blood tear rolled down her cheek and she looked into the fire. “Aeren…” she whispered softly, “… have you truly returned?”

The tears began to fall as the woman, Shallara, pondered the presence of her Sire…

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