Volume 5

Something To Believe In
by Anshuria

The intent of the questioning was not malicious in the least, but the torment left was indescribable. Why indeed did she fight alongside good and not let go to lose herself in the clutches of evil? She claimed she had nothing to lose, perhaps in many senses that was true.

She had no family having been sent away by her mother for her own good at a young age. Her heart was walled off in stone, carefully tucked away and shielded, the sorrow of losing the only man she ever loved something she could not allow to show, ever. She had friends, friends such as Richter and Taal, Trapsnare and Coronos. She cared for each, and was there to offer assistance at any time if able, yet there was much the quiet woman withheld, both about her own self and the observations she mentally noted about others. She was a generous woman, helping any that needed it.

But deep within something stirred, something unsettling that slowly began to consume her. She had told Richter she needed a reason to believe. She could not find the words to truly explain but had remarked that she needed to find a reason to continue to believe that not everything went wrong and that not everything was destroyed. She knew though, that she had to try to find this reason. She had to have something to cling to, to weather in the storms that lay ahead for deep within, she knew if she did not, she would be easily swayed to let that darkness, the inky bitterness that enshrouded her walled off heart, consume her and she would find herself facing her friends on the battlefields.

She had listened almost uninterested to the exchange between the one called Blackthorn and Richter. That disinterest was all she could do not to let lose and embrace the chaos promised. Order had brought only despair and heartache to her, perhaps this chaos could make her complete again. How easy it would have been to tell this Lord Blackthorn that she would serve his army of chaos, but she refrained and stuck beside Richter, and though quiet, her presence was felt each time the branches of the trees offered them the cool refreshment to take their aches and pains, or her soft songs lulled some beast into a dream state.
Perhaps it was her father calling to her, after all this time. He knew not of her existence when she had been sent away, but her mother was certain it would not be much longer such a secret could be guarded. She could still remember the look on her mother's face every time she asked about her absent father. Her mother was truly frightened, speaking in hushed whispers about the absolute evil of the man. Perhaps finally that part of her, the part of her father's existence that had always seemed non-existent in the caring girl, was threatening to overcome her. Perhaps the disappointments in her recent past had left her open to him.
Her fingers crushed the dried stem of the rose in her hand, the thorns digging deeply into her flesh. "If it bleeds, it lives," she whispered as she looked at the fresh wound on her hand. She still remembered the day she had been given the rose, the joy she had felt. A frown forms. She had been foolish and naive, but for one suddenly thinking herself so worldly, she still tucked the rose into the pouch for safekeeping. She preserved this last shred of hope for her existence.

(This is the story or a couple of the stories about Anshuria's mother. And her twin brother. ~grins~)

Anshu - The Breath of Life

The wide eyed frightened girl stood just beyond the ring of firelight watching the others mull about, laughing and talking animatedly. When anyone neared her she shied further back into the covering of shrubs, but her curiosity kept her gaze fastened upon those within. She watched the way the clothing and armor fit the bodies, flowing with each movement, her head tilting to one side as she observed. Anshu Starbreeze, as always, was on the outside looking in.

From the time she was old enough to remember, Anshu had never been a child in the true sense. Perhaps the name was actually an influence on her and caused her very soul to be that of an ancient, perhaps it was merely the lack of child-like influence on her life, but Anshu was born a small old woman. No, not in appearance, in appearance she was like any other newborn, but in mannerisms she was quite unnerving. Never did she cry. She would simply look at her mother or father, or one of their team of explorers and they would know what it was she wished. She had a strange affinity with all life in knowing their needs and in letting them know hers, with nary a word spoken. This was quite ironic considering her parents were, well, more interested in the unlife.

Theros and Linsha Starbreeze were approached on a dig in the abandoned city of Mistas to take on the excavation of the dungeon known as Khaldun. Of course it would be dangerous but the absolute fulfillment of combining their two favorite interests in life, Necromancy and Archaeology, appealed to them in such a way that the danger was simply overlooked. They packed up their crew, including a teenaged Anshu, and made the long journey to Khaldun. It would be their fatal mistake.

Anshu never recalled any details between the journey there and the actual departure through the portal her dying mother opened; the memories were much too terrifying for the girl whose dreams and waking hours were haunted by the past explorers and the woman who repeatedly tried to beckon to her and draw her into the deepest tunnels of the excavation. Many nights, even now, Anshu woke from slumber drenched in sweat and tears, screaming, as the one most now would know to be Tavara Sewel beckoned to her.

She must've slept immediately after entering the portal, or perhaps her mother had also cast some sort of sleeping spell on her, but Anshu awoke in the soft light of morning, sunlight filtered through the leaves of the trees and forest animals peering down at her in the small clearing. A rabbit wiggled its nose, a hind flicked its ears and a bird squawked loudly from an overhead branch. Anshu felt the dew coating her flesh and though there was a slight chill in the air, for the first time in her short 16 years, she remembered being at peace. How odd for a child who had just lost both parents to a horrendous death at the hand of ancient creatures too horrifying to mention, but here amongst the trees and animals is where she had always belonged. She could breathe here, not the dust that always accompanied the explorations, but truly breathe. She was perhaps for the first time, alive.
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The Lord of Death

It had been simple to take the girl. The druid and fire mage believed themselves so powerful they destroyed me in a simple hand to hand battle, but that was not the case. They had been so sure in their victory that their guard had slipped. It was so very simple to whisk her away again. She is here now, our child growing within her ripening belly, and their betrayals fresh memories in her mind.

What betrayals? Fabricated ones of course.

It had to appear to the Breath of Life that all had turned their backs on her. Some had done so. They were the ones filled with jealousy and hatred, pawns for me to use at a later date. As I stroke her flesh I can feel my son growing and breathing, the life he sucks from her filling him until the day he is unleashed upon this world. That is the day I will kiss my Anshu goodbye, for she will no longer be needed in the grand scheme of things. She is to bring my son life, and her death will be his first of many. She will grant him his first soul.

Anshu's eyes narrowed as she read the words he had so carelessly written and left behind. Upon hearing a noise, she moved away from the book, lounging upon the great bed just in time to see him enter. Her smile was not pleasant. "Hello my Lord," she murmured in that soft voice, but the innocence and gentleness that once marked her words had long fled her. She had grown so very cold and in this coldness she had developed and strengthened. She drew upon her teachings and her beliefs and it was such that kept her strong during her confinement as the Lord of Death's concubine.

"I have made a decision," she continued, practically emotionless and as his eyes swept over her she smirked slightly. "I wish to be your wife. I accept your hand in marriage." He stopped, gazing hard at Anshu, wondering what had brought about the change so suddenly and actually voicing the question aloud, her only response was. "Is it not time I do so, my Lord?" He nodded, "It will be done this night at the stroke of midnight."

When he departed she laughed, a strange joyless laughter that echoed throughout the room. She knew it was time, her time. The children would come this very night. And as his father took her to himself in marriage, she would give the boy-child life. Her child, yes she fully believed he would show allegiance to her over the father, would spring free of her womb and his cry would be the end of his father's life. He would reign as the Lord of Death. Her Malchior. And as his mother, she would avenge herself on those who deserved it. The others would be rewarded for loyalty in that their lives would remain untortured and intact.

Upon his father's destruction Khaldun was flattened, the walls caving in upon his minions taking all with it but three, the children and their mother.
Now grown up, Malchior stalks the small country home ready to claim his destiny and build a new shrine to death. And find the one who haunts his very dreams. He imagines the woman-child is much as his mother had once been, quiet and beautiful, alive within the forests. What he does not realize, is that she is his twin.

Added:
The girl-child, though, was another story. Living only a short time with her mother and brother, she was sent away to a land shrouded by mist. She knew of her past, even that her father was not dead, for how can one die if they are death? It was her future that was truly uncertain.

The one she thought gone, never to return had been at her side just the previous night. It seemed so long ago. She now sat in the small room the woman, Naamah used to sew her creations in and stared at the walls. Something within her had changed, something bubbling just beneath the surface seeking an outlet to unleash onto the world. She seemed normal to most, at least they treated her as they always did. Yet, this evil within was brewing, she could feel it and yet she knew not how to stop it, or even if she desired to stop it. Her eyes remained steely as she glanced about quickly. The event of the prior two days slowly filtering into her thoughts.

Wuss had shown up at the bank in Britain as if he had never left and she felt such joy, her heart could not stand it. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes as she looked him over head to toe. He appeared somewhat battleworn, but the fires that consumed her in presence remained. She had traveled with him to the dungeon, Doom, and together the two were vanquishing foes left and right, yet an alarm sounded reaching even deep within the recesses of Doom. Yew was under attack. She had been to the court of truth in search of answers many times over the past week, yet none were there. Now there were armies of orcs swarming on the courts, all wishing one thing. A journal.

The journal was procured from one of the shelves, read and copied, distributed to the mass of heroes that had protected Yew's most distinguished structure. She read the words within, a small island. Several came to mind, but upon searching each, nothing was found. Finally, the party dwindling to a mere handful, they sailed from Trinsic. Finding hordes of evil sea creatures blocking them from an island they knew to be half sunken into the dark depths of the ocean. Something lashed at her from the water, tentacles reached out and gripped her and feeling the suction on her flesh, sucking the life from her, she fell, her unconscious form resting alongside her comrades. She had tried to remain standing to heal them, to wake them from the darkness of sleep, but had failed.

The captain sailed back to the Barrier Isle near Trinsic, calling over the healer on the land and it was this healer who had woken them all, summoning them from sleep. She felt useless, a failure and decided it was enough for one night. When she awoke the next day, it was to a splitting headache, having had dreams that haunted her, and the bed was once again empty. She knew not if Wuss had remained the night even before he had risen and gone on to do whatever it is mages do while the hermit druids sleep.

She decided late that evening she would accompany Richter Dane once more to this island, this sunken bit of land protruding from the violent waters. And it was she, having remembered the stories she read, that called out "Norman of Drakor" and when the spirit rose from the grave she had skittered back, frightened, somewhat unsure suddenly of how she had done it. It was as if she had seen something from the distant past, some vague memory, something superimposed over this current happening. She spoke to the spirit and murmured to the others that we must return to the place of his original imprisonment.

In her mind she could see the walls, so much like Khaldun, the place of her mothers nightmares and slow spiral downward into insanity. It was in that place she had been born and her brother had taken from their father his existence, if only for the time being, and it was this place she returned once more. She felt less and less like herself as the party searched the tomb, her father's domain. It was with each step she lost more interest in destroying Mor'Glath than preserving him and the evil that abounded. A small shiver raced through her, and sanity once more took control. She had to leave this place, get out, before it consumed her and quickly she did, casting a spell to take her to a quiet pasture near Yew where sheep grazed leisurely. Still she felt no peace, something niggling at her consciousness.

After regrouping with the party, and speaking the word Fidgit had mumbled at the fountain, they were led into a deep dank dark pit of evil. It oozed from the walls around them and at first. The magic many had learned did naught; Her own druidry, however, did work. As the group progressed further, many split up, moving in different directions. Only later did she even know Nabiki had been found. She had returned with Richter and Slain to Britain, watching as Richter destroyed the blackened heart of Mor'Glath. She had dragged her fingers through the drop of blood that spilled as he had done this, and her words from before came to mind. "If it bleeds, it lives"

She could hear Kid in the hallway working, he worked too much sometimes but she had enjoyed his company. He asked if the cat got her tongue and the most vicious words nearly spilled forth, but she caught herself in time, speaking in her "normal" tones. Something had gotten to her, and more than her tongue. Now more than ever she felt the unrest in her soul.

Naamah's Story
By Anshuria

Since I pulled up old stories for Anshuria's thread, I figured I should include Naamah's too.

"Send her in," the raspy voice wheezed, sounding much more frail than He in truth was. Tarloth would deceive His daughter in order to protect her from their enemies. He was not a particularly well thought of creature but His instinct to protect His own reigned true. Perhaps it was truly sad it was not His daughter He sought to protect, but His advancement in new lands.

The dark haired child entered the room and gazed at the slumped form, her hand hovering just above his wings as she embraced him fearfully. "Father" Naamah inquired softly. "You wished to see me?" She was uncharacteristically docile for the moment, whether the sickly appearance of her Father or some inkling that her entire world was about to change, could not be told.

"Naamah, My child, My demoness of song, My legacy. The time has come when you must leave us. I am too old to protect you from them any longer and you must traverse to another plane to dwell. It will not be easy for you, My child, but study and learn and when the time comes, One will be sent to whom you were meant to serve and with Him you will conquer."

The child, who had ripped the heart from a tutor and eaten it to spite her mother, broke into shuddering sobs at this announcement. "Please Father. Do not send me away! Do not banish me from my home!" but her Father was unswayed. Naamah would go. She must lay the foundation for His Empire. This was as decreed.

His hand wrapped in His daughter's hair as He pulled her face to His own and growled, His acrid breath causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste. "You wish this to be difficult, Naamah?" He snarled at the child. "I had such hope for you when you dismembered your handmaidens, but now you disgust me. A weak sniveling...... girl. Unfit to even live amongst our kind any longer."

At His words she stiffened, squared her shoulders and met His gaze head on. "Someday Father. You will beg me for my mercy," and she simply turned from Him and walked away. The arrangements she knew were already made. She would not fight Him in this. She would simply alter her path to include His death at her own tiny hands. She retracted her wings, pulling them within her body and hiding them until the day her Father lay begging for His life at her feet.