RTW's character stories
by, 24-02-2007 at 03:36 (887 Views)
Yeah so it's been a while huh? I had promised to write up Lysandra's back story next but once I had started I realized that just might take me a bit longer. So I'm going to go ahead and give you this little tasty short story. Enjoy.
Preston stepped outside and drew in a breath of crisp morning air, the sun's rays just beginning to peak out over the horizon. He began to casually stroll down the street. Preston was feeling good about himself, as many recent events had happened to make him feel this way. He had just recently graduated from Nolani Academy where he had been studying necromancy for the past six years. He had proven himself to Susie's wealthy father whom had adopted him, and managed to request a small loan from the merchant to buy his own house in Ascalon City. But most importantly, he had turned eighteen in little under a year ago, meaning he was man enough to follow in his family's tradition. He had adopted the surname Nightdeath on his family's naming convention.
The normally busy streets were at a hush now, still early in the morning for the hustle and bustle. Preston wandered aimlessly through the city streets, appreciating the silence a city never knew. A silence that seemed... out of place.
"Preston!" A woman’s voice echoed down the empty streets. Lifting his head and squinting into the sun, Preston could make out Susie Dear waving. A smile flashed across his face as he ran down the street to her. Before he could say a word, she embraced him in a hug.
Closing his eyes, he hoped that the moment would never pass. But something was wrong. He felt no warmth, no comfort. Opening his eyes he saw a sight of horror. The buildings were on fire, people lay dead in the streets. Pushing himself from Susie's embrace he watched as she fell to the ground, inert and cold, in a state he knew all to well. Dead. He screamed...
Preston bolted upright with a scream. His body was covered in a cold sweat, his eyes swelling with tears at the sight he had just witnessed. Breathing heavy, he cleared his eyes and looked around. The land was barren and disfigured.
Preston woke from one nightmare into another. The only difference was he knew this one was real.
Since the great devastation people called the Searing several months back, Preston had found himself wandering the infested and ruined land, host to haunting dreams he could not cure.
The scream would attract the attention of some undesirable creature or another, so Preston began to gather his things. He would have to find a new spot to sleep for the rest of the night. Preston knew how trackers thought, having had much experience hunting himself, and left clues hinting in the wrong direction to his whereabouts.
Another day wretchedly began, just like all the rest...
But as the day wore on, things only seemed to get better. Preston decided to head out to the Catacombs in Ashford Abbey. He could practice his art there in peace. The sun shining bright in the clear blue sky warmed his bones as he headed into the cool entrance tunnel of the Catacombs.
Preston walked slowly in serenity. He approached the large mural of Grenth and dropped to one knee. Remembering the prayer of Desmina, Grenth's first follower, Preston repeated.
"Where is the god to whom I may give my undying devotion? Where is the God to whom I may beg revenge against those who scorn me?"
"Revenge? Against whom silly?" The familiar voice of a young girl rang out from behind him, followed by a giggle. Preston turned his head to see his sister, Lysandra, standing with his older brother Revance. Neither of them had grown since last he'd seen them, making his sister fourteen and his brother eighteen. But this was not a concern in Preston's eyes. He stood and turned to face them.
"Sissy? Vance? Is-... Is it really you?" He took a cautious step forward and reached out a hand.
"Who else would it be bro?" His brother replied with a warm smile. "I told you I would find Lysandra, and now that we're together again, we can live happy. Nothing bad will happen again."
The young girl and walked up and took Preston's arm. She began to lead Preston in a walk, further into the Catacombs. She casually engaged Preston in idle chatter which all came out to gibberish. There was laughter in the stories told, but Preston couldn't make out a word. Finally, he found himself in a part of the Catacombs he didn't often visit.
Revance, keeping up his warm smile, turned to Preston and looked him in the eyes. He spoke, his words making sense again. "You know where we are. And you know why we're here."
Preston nodded wordlessly. His siblings had lead him to the place where their parents had been buried. After a few seconds of searching, Preston found the words he was looking for.
"I can't do it. It-... It just can't be done."
Lysandra looked up at her younger brother, releasing her hold on his arm. "But Preston, isn't this what you wanted? You searched for it, did you not? You must have found something in those tomes of text. You never told anyone what you were looking for, didn't you find it?"
"Yeah, c'mon Preston. You can do this." Revance gave Preston a reassuring pat on the shoulder which lead to a shove towards the graves. Preston drew in a deep breath and cleared his mind. He began to focus on a spell.
He remembered back to the books he had read in the deepest corners of the Nolani Academy's library. He remembered reading what he was attempting could not be done. Why was he trying? Why hadn't his siblings aged? What was this uneasy feeling he was getting?
Opening his eyes, Preston watched as his completed spell took effect. From the grave burst two twisted forms of bone and flesh. His eyes widened in horror at the atrocity he had just preformed. Bone minions created from his own mother and father.
Preston dropped to his knees and covered his mouth, holding back the urge to vomit. Looking to his side he saw a sight that did not help. His brother and sister lying on the ground, blood running down their faces.
His sister's eyes rolled into the back of her head, as Revance gave Preston a cold, blank stare. His jaw moved slightly, and he gurgled out, "How-... How could you Preston? It's all-... your... fault." His voice was silenced with the sound of bones and flesh remolding. Two more minions had risen from his siblings.
The rotted undead underlings moved towards Preston with malicious intent. Preston pulled himself to his feet as the nearest creature took a swing at him, striking him across the back. Ignoring the pain, he ran. With every step he took, more undead servants rose to chase after him.
He continued to run. He ran until his muscles would not allow him to move and his lungs burned. He was outside, in Ashford Village...
No. The land had been burned. Where the once pleasant village rested, there was now only scorched earth and bleak sands. Singed trees refused to grow. Large crystals which had fallen from the sky left their mark on the devastated earth.
Preston fell to the ground exhausted. His body ached, and he couldn't help but laugh maniacally. Tears ran down his face as he rolled onto his back, yelling into the dust filled, rust colored sky.
"WHY!? Why? Grenth, do you hear me? What sort of curse is this?"
Hours passed while Preston waited for a reply he knew he'd never get. When the sun had set over the horizon and darkness enveloped the land, Preston stood again and dust himself off. He started walking back the way he came.
Back to Ashford Abbey.
Back to the Sardelac Sanitarium.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Few paid attention to the green haired necromancer, as it was not uncommon to find a practitioner of Grenth's teachings in Sardelac Sanitarium. Preston slipped in and out of his dream world, though he did little in either.
He had given up on life. If his mind would not allow him to know what was real from the nightmares, then he would no longer engage in either. Numb himself to the world, doing little more than playing disheartening tunes on his flute. His eyes lied and his ears played tricks, Preston no longer trusted either.
The Lakeside County was warm as the sun shone high in the sky. Preston had left Ashford Abbey for a short walk to the river side. He watched the trees rustle in the breeze. Glancing down the hill he saw Farmer Dirk's pigs running about. Lifting his head, Preston looked down the old dirt path he was walking. His mind tormented him further.
Two charr engaged a solider of the Ascalon Army in battle. The female solider, both graceful and strong, held well against the beasts. Though she was at a disadvantage. Out numbered, separated from her unit. She yelled out for help, though no one heard.
No one but Preston. He heard, and he knew what was going on. An all too familiar haunting. The cry for help, the female warrior...
"Susie," the necromancer whispered beneath his breath.
He watched as the warrior defended herself against the dual attackers. He watched her growing tired and weaker.
He knew it wasn't real.
The charr maneuvered themselves into position, flanking the soldier of Ascalon. Turning to fend off one attacker left her exposed to the other. The charr drew back his blade and made use of the opening.
The attack did not connect. The charr fumbled to the ground as its blood shot forth from its body. The red liquid streamed through the air in a pattern, flowing like a river towards the necromancer charging to the warrior's aid.
Susie struck a wounding blow with her mighty hammer to the remaining attacker and fell back. The attack exerted the last of her energy and sent her off balance, landing on the ground.
Why? This isn't real. This isn't happening. You can't save her. She's not there. Why are you doing this then? Why?
The charr raised his sword for one final blow to the downed warrior.
"Susie!" Preston yelled as he positioned himself between the woman and the steel. The sword bit into his back with a crimson splash.
With a renewed burst of adrenalin, Susie quickly took up her hammer and dealt the creature a fatal blow.
Preston laid face first on the grass. The trees swayed silently around him. Susie knelt down next to him. Tear filled her eyes.
"Preston! Preston, you're going to be fine. Please, say something to me. Tell me you're alright!"
It doesn't matter... I can't change the past. What I tell you here... It won't matter...
Susie cautiously placed her hands over the wound. "You'll be okay. Talk to me." Tears ran down her cheeks.
The tears fell on Preston. He felt them. How could it feel so real? Never before had his dreams been so genuine.
Preston's eyes widened. He knew now! Focusing his will, he drew a pattern in his mind, which formed around the body of the charr. Magic drew the ever potent source of life from the beast's body. The blood welled up from the now dry husk and seeped into the necromancer's wound. His body made use of the substance and healed the gashing injury.
Preston shifted slightly and rolled onto his back, looking up into Susie's relieved face. For the first time in over a year, he smiled.
Before he could say a word, she embraced him in a hug. Closing his eyes, he hoped that the moment would never pass.
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