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Thread: Demons of the Past

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Sep 2002

    Default Demons of the Past

    A story about Maelarr meeting his daughter. How sweet.
    Oh, he also busts some skulls and retrieves a stolen artifact.
    Barbie-lovers may not want to read this one.

    Chapter 1

    "Do you see it?!"
    A bitter wind whipped around Maelarr's face, threatening to take the Bearskin cloak from him. There was but one thing occupying his mind, getting to the first cave.
    Maelarr was with a small elite unit of Teir'Dal, sent to the frozen north on a simple mission. To gather intelligence on a certain human, find the thing he stole, kill him and get it back. There were but five of them. If they didn't get to the cave soon, they might lose a man. Maelarr could save a man from a wound like this any day of the week, his ability to channel, among others, healing spells from his God, Innoruuk, made certain of that, but saving a man from an arterial bleeding wound in this environment, on the run, and avoiding guards...would take some work. He had stopped as much of the bleeding as he could, but more powerful healing spells take increasing amounts of time to channel. Maelarr could not spare the time to heal the elf completetly until they reached a spot where they could sit down and rest. Things would be much simpler if they could get to the cave before he finished the healing. It was already bad enough, Maelarr stopped for as long as he dared to cast a potent healing spell and a round of re-energization spells for his crew mid trip, and Kaelamr had lost a lot of blood. Shurl had been instructed to hang
    "Yus sir! Jus over this hill" came the booming voice of Nullen, the troll shadowknight, who was on point.
    More welcome words may have never been spoken. Maelarr paused a second to hike his pack up more squarely on his elvenly broad shoulders. As soon as they all got to the cave Maelarr and the mage could use their magic to make everyone's life easier until nightfall.
    Maelarr trudged to the top of the hill and saw the cave just below him at the side of the frozen river. Looking back towards the rest of his team he signaled for them to keep on, and pointed downwards towards the cave. Maelarr, being the only field experienced officer had been appointed as the elf in charge of the strike team. His team consisted of a young, but terribly skilled Dragoon Sergeant named Kaelamr, whom had inadvertently fell down an icy slope earlier and landed on a large bear-trap almost losing his leg in the process. A gigantic trollish knight named Nullen, a mage, Emus, who, while green to combat, didn't complain much about being in the field, and Shurl, an assassin-ess from the elite Shebali ranks, and a touted expert of operations in northern climates to boot. They had been traveling since their teleportation drop-off early that morning. The coordinators of the mission didn't think it necessary to travel at night due to the environment. They were right; anyone with a lick of sense in this region would be safe inside some shelter during a blizzard like this. They were all very, very tired due to the battle-ready level of armor worn they all had to be in, and were quite ready to get to the first cave.
    Bending down slightly and placing his arms on his knees, and his chest on the top of the head of his maul to rest his back and legs from the weight of his pack Maelarr watched over his group as Nullen, the troll shadow knight, helped Kaelamr down the hill. One by one they all filed past Maelarr into the cave. Taking one last look over the frozen tundra to ensure no followers were in sight, Maelarr ducked into the cave. It was small, but it began with a tunnel that sloped down slightly which led to an oval-shaped room just a dozen lengths from the entrance. It was bitter, freezing cold in the cave, but they were sheltered from the wind at least. A quick nod from Maelarr to Emus set the mage to casting. Small lines of fire traced the mages hands as he went through the arcane movements. Seconds later a good-sized fire sprouted in the center of the cave floor. It roared with ravenous intensity, desperate for things to burn, fueled only by Emus' magical power. Maelarr looked at his forces as they warmed themselves up next to the fire. Kaelamr grimaced as Nullen un-strapped his leg armor.
    "It dusn't look good Sir, Can you help him?� asked the troll, in his oppressively deep voice, as he rolled up the warrior's pant leg revealing a very painful looking wound.
    "It's not that bad Nullen, I've seen worse. You'll be just fine."
    Maelarr put down Hopecrusher, his maul, and kneeled down next to Kaelamr. Reciting a prayer to Innoruuk as he removed his thick gloves, he held his hands out and began to chant a spell of healing for a few minutes. Soft bluish black energy glowed around his hands and grew brighter and brighter as he chanted. After a few minutes of chanting, slowly, he let his hands drop and grasped the wound with both hands. The energy surrounding his hands surged into Kaelamr's leg. Suddenly the bleeding stopped, and the teeth-like punctures became less and less deep, eventually sealing completely, leaving only small, thin scars. Kaelamr smiled, his strength returned and grabbed the thick plates of his armor to put them back on.
    Standing back up, Maelarr turned to speak to his team.
    "Alright, drop your gear here, we're going to rest here until this storm passes, or nightfall. Headquarters divinations said it should be over late afternoon today or early in the evening. I want one of you on lookout outside at all times. I don't like how long we were delayed when Kaelamr got bit by the trap, we might've been sighted. I'll go first; I want a relief in one hour. Sleep, eat, and relax. We move to the final cave at nightfall. Shurl, in the meantime, get working on a camouflage door for our cave here. We are going to rest here until night fall or the blizzard passes. Headquarters can go kick a dragon. Tomorrow night we begin operations."
    A unanimous "Yes Sir!" reply echoed in the cave as the team sat down and got comfy. Maelarr grabbed Hopecrusher, and headed towards the exit of the cave. Stooping a bit to get through the small entrance of the cave, Maelarr looked around at the snowy landscape.

    Maelarr is tall, for a darkelf at least, with deep blood-red eyes, the splitting image of his twin brother, Dugall. Despite their being twins they are very easy to tell apart. Maelarr keeps his hair long and tied in the back with holy cords and beads. The occasional braided strands ending in a series of painted bone beads hanging over his face and running behind his long pointed ears. The beads are very important to Maelarr; each time he kills a great enemy of Innoruuk, Neriak, or himself. He takes a part of their skull, blesses it, and makes beads out of it. Several beaded strands hang over the sides of his face, and run down the back of his head. He hopes to be sporting dreadlocks one day. Despite the brothers' facial features, their body sizes are quite different. Maelarr is quite large, from carrying around and swinging heavy armor and weighty weapons all his life. He is nearly as big as most warriors, and could easily be mistaken for one. He wears a suit of blessed adamantine plate mail. Etched on the breastplate is the large rune of the Blood priest, and the suit itself is adorned with visages of Innoruuk, skulls, and warding runes. Draped around his neck down to the tops of his thighs is an ash-grey Orar with the symbols of Innoruuk and his rank within the church on the two ends. On his back hangs a large billowing polar-bear skin cloak, Maelarr ensured his team all had one for the mission. n his hands is his maul, Hopecrusher, which is sickeningly large and intimidating. Nearly four feet long, with a one and a half foot long by a half-foot wide by one-foot high head made of enchanted velium. It is enchanted to be surprisingly light for its immense size, though the unlucky ones on the receiving end feel its full weight...and then some, and causes severe cold burns to any pale elf that survives a strike, or even so much as touches it. The shaft is made of Darkwood, a wood native to Nektulos Forest, it is a charred looking black, and immensely strong wood. When looking at the head, everything within a few inches seems a little darker. This is because the head of the war hammer has a demon bound to it. The demon can speak to Maelarr when he has the weapon with him, and often urges Maelarr to use it against pale elves in the area, the two rarely disagree on this issue; it also gives Maelarr advice, and watches Maelarr's back in combat.
    It was all in all a good deal. Maelarr bound the demon to the weapon in a sacrifice some thirty years ago. He and a group of associates attacked a human village, killed or enslaved the men, raped the women and sacrificed the children to summon demons into Maelarr's warhammer and into a knight named Kazfein's sword.
    Maelarr got a quick look around the area. A mountain range rose up not far off in the horizon to the west, and a frozen river cut across the tundra. Maelarr faced north and stared at the surrounding tundra.
    Last edited by Maelarr; 01-25-2006 at 11:55 PM.
    Become a minion today! Fall to the cuteness of the kitties!
    So shonen it frikkin' hurts.
    "Matter flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to be you, Some people find that thought disturbing, I find the reality thrilling."
    - Dr Richard Dawkins

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Sep 2002

    Default Re: Demons of the Past

    Hope stared out at a broad field thick with brightly-colored flowers. Warm light from above shone down across the field, lightly warming her skin. Hope looked around and down at herself. Barefoot, her small grayish toes slightly buried in damp earth. A loose yellow summer dress flapped in the wind, almost begging her to go dancing along with it in the breeze.
    Hope's dreams were always of somewhere warm and colorful. They had been ever since she traveled north to Halas, and took up the Sword of Justice.
    Hope sighed contently, might as well enjoy it. She began walking amongst the completely silent meadow, trailing her hands across the tips of the various brightly colored flowers; feeling with the tips of her fingers every soft petal as she passed by.


    Hope was startled by what sounded like a heartbeat echoing across the dreamy meadow. She frantically looked around to determine where the sound came from. To no avail, for as quickly as the sound came, it was gone. Hope resumed her wanderings through the meadow.

    Not long after a strange rushing noise overcame the dreamscape. Hope whirled around to locate the source of the broken silence. Far in the distant horizon she could feel another presence in her dream. This presence appeared as a rapidly expanding cloud of darkness, swirling and consuming the peaceful meadow. Hope simply stood and watched in horror the cloud of darkness engulf her dream-world. Before she could react, the cloud was almost upon her. Inside the inky, black cloud her beautiful dream flowers wilted away and died. Suddenly, the cloud exploded outward and engulfed everything in sight...her meadow was nothing but wilted, dead flowers and dried grass. She tried to run, but there was nowhere to run to...her beautiful dream world had turned into a nightmarish wasteland. She heard a voice calling her name from somewhere behind her.
    She whirled to find the deepest darkness she had ever known with bright red malevolent eyes staring bac k at her. It was a demon, and it had invaded her dreams. Hope was pissed. The formless void spoke with a deep guturral voice.
    "Hope, do not presume that I have entered your dreams simply to toy with you. I have come bearing news you might like to know."
    "Speak quickly demon."
    "Your father has come to visit, my sources tell me you should cross paths tomorrow night…"
    Hopes eyes widened at the shock of knowing that her father, a Dark Elf who raped Hope's mother and left her for dead after slaughtering the rest of Mothers village, was coming to visit. Before she had time to react, the formless mass of the demon quickly assumed the form of a large white headed warhammer, wound up, and struck her in the head, jolting from her dream.
    Hope sat up quickly with a gasp, her body and sheets drenched in cold-sweat. The memories of the dream flooded back to her consciousness and her eyes narrowed as she realized what she might have to do in the coming days. She looked over to the door to her small room as someone on the outside pounded again on the door with a pair of hard knocks.
    "Hope! Wake up! We've got te' get goin'! girl"
    Hope recognized the voice instantly, it was Elizabeth MacGregor, a Shaman of The Tribunal, and the sister that Hope never had. She was kind, and generous, always seeking to know a person before judging them. Which is what hope liked about Halas. She wasn't immediately judged because of her...dark...heritage. She was the daughter of a Dark Elf, but more importantly, a Paladin of the Tribunal, the Northmen considered her on her own brave deeds, and not the misdeeds of her Father.
    Much shorter then most humans, due to her partial blood with the shortest of elven races, Hope has the Infravision and even the Darkvision of a Dark Elf, the lithe and agile body, the grace, the beauty, and unfortunately, the dark skin of a Dark Elf. She is still a half-elf, and is at the same time to lithe and graceful for a human, yet too robust and stocky for an elf. Like all half elves, she is somewhere in between. Hope was quite short, as far as half elves are concerned; barely over five feet tall, yet through being forced to survive in this climate, had developed a strong and healthy body. She could swing a sword as well as, if not better, then most of the Northmen warriors, and she wore lighter armor as to take advantage of the superior agility of her elven blood. Combined with her rapid spinning strikes and blocks of her sword and buckler fighting style, as well as her paladin abilities, she was a dangerous opponent, to say nothing of the danger an enemy of Good faced when challenging her.
    "Come on in Liz, whats the problem?"
    The door cracked open and Elizabeth peeked her head through the doorframe. Her polar bear headdress capping her orangish red locks and blue-tattooed face.
    "Tundra Jack's in town, says he saw sum o'them durned Dark Elves sneaking about during yest'rdays blizz'rd! We' gonna go find ’em!"
    The realization that the dream was very likely not a figment of her imagination put a knot in Hopes stomach. She gulped as she remembered her Paladin oath and steeled herself with a anxious "I'll be right out!"
    Become a minion today! Fall to the cuteness of the kitties!
    So shonen it frikkin' hurts.
    "Matter flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to be you, Some people find that thought disturbing, I find the reality thrilling."
    - Dr Richard Dawkins


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