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Twinyarrow
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Joined: 30 Jan 2011
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re: [Story] Memories are but Shadows [Twinyarrow]

The once verdant earth lay broken before the now melancholy sin’dorei. Bereft of life and labeled the Scar, the profane expanse cut a swath of death through the heart of this once vital land. As the Scourge arose, set to raze Silvermoon, the land witnessed the march of undeath itself. It rose up, spat forth from the fetid necropoli of Deatholm to devour all in it's path. The land's rich forests, ripe with fruiting trees, long stretches of grassland flowing with pure crystal streams now lay branded with the ichors and filth of the Scourge's fetid touch, quite possibly for all time. Defenses standing for ages crumbled under the weight of undeath's onslaught. Darkness blotting out the eternal sun. The Scar had surgically divided the eastern and western lands of Quel’Thalas. Within it's path, a gauntlet fraught with peril promised nothing so mundane as physical death, but mindless eternal servitude forever masking over the sharp knives of ceaseless all consuming hunger.

Twinyarrow sighed almost soundlessly. Beside him, Nazva stood completely still, her usual amorous antics quelled as she felt a pain in her breast for her Master. She wished he would send her into that place... to let her burning lash turn the shambling mockery of life into ashes. She could go... He never bound her as was customary. Yet she remained fastly in place.

"Master. Why are you torturing yourself? Leave us away. Forget this place and never look back." The succubus' voice, silken. "Your heartache pains me so."

The elf did not immediately respond, instead going to his knee and scooping up a handful to the decrepit earth. It stank, a sick sweet smell of rot and the last vestiges of copper. Blood and death.

"We go, Nazva..." His words trailed off momentarily while he rose, dropping the soil from between his long thin fingers. He turned, facing her. "...We go because we must. Do not think me unaware this will be unpleasant. Honestly, you would play the mother to my errant child. But we have both seen too much afield and abroad to tarry now. I have come to peace with the fact it is not home any longer... if you could call it home before that. This is simply something I must do."

The succubus opened her black lips as if to protest but no voice came to make them. Instead she nodded. "When you are ready then."

They approached the massive walls of Deatholm, moving cautiously, ready to cut down any entity eager to bar their path. The scent of necromantic half-rotten flesh hung thick in the air about the place. Yarrow traced his palm along the wall before coming to rest over a perfectly smooth, nondescript area.

He paused, looking at Nazva, pressing a finger to his lips. They had been lucky thus far only having to cure several ghoulish corpses of their unlife. But there was no kenning if the old passages remained... even less likely, if the tales of Nerubians within proved true, unoccupied.

"Leave walls not bar; nor portcullis gate hold; the earnest traveler; weary from the road." Yarrow's face showed a moments trace of a smile. The magics were still there, too weak to be of notice yet strong enough to maintain their role guarding the secret entry. He has always found that rhyme deplorably childish.

"That is rather sweet is it not, Master?" Nazva chimed in brightly.

Yarrow could not deny it. "It serves its..."

Without a sound, a diamond shaped opening appeared in the wall. At first no larger then a thimble, the aperture grew steadily wider and higher. Twinyarrow cast a glance within. The old passage was, save some cobwebs, empty. Along the passage walls crystal braziers began to glow. Not the warm sunlight glow of his youth, but rather a sick oily purplish light which cast colors in stark relief to their normal appearance.

Undaunted, Twinyarrow removed his hand, prompting the portal to begin shrinking slowly back into non-existence. Nazva stepped in quickly before he could speak to her, demon's eyes scouring the first section of the hall. The blood elf wordlessly followed. Behind them the portal accelerated it's closure and vanished leaving them in the twilight.

"This place should be safe. The some few times we left as children, against Kalvarin's wishes, were achieved by this way."

Nazva stopped and turned to face him. "That is the first time I believe I have ever heard you say something happy with regards to your brother."

Yarrow nodded. "Kalvarin did his best to separate us. And I... fool Kalthoryn was, only all to eager to oblige. All he ever tried to do was be my brother. I believe I could count our excursions on but a single hand. Yet of them some created memories I now treasure."

The elf's mind suddenly back on that midsummer. The last time they had ever been as brothers before Kalthoryn's wasting occurred. He shivered slightly and fought to hold back a tear for that festival summer night by the lake and ached for it as the shadows of it replayed through his mind. He saw Solivar's face and heard his voice, "We don't have to be enemies, Kalthoryn..."

Nazva's ears perked forward attentively, her face intrigued. Yet her demeanor served to jog the blood elf from his memory.

Yarrow thought better of playing one of Nazva's games at this point and instead returned to the business at hand. "This way. Stay close this place is labyrinthian if you do not know where to go." The succubus fell into step behind him.

"If anything approaches get down and let me to the fore." Her tone was commanding yet Twinyarrow was not offended. She would die to defend him. They both knew this. Ergo, he did his best to keep her from harm.

"Yes my lady." He smiled, watching her fluster.

"If only...," She replied.

They walked slowly listening for the sounds of the death about them. The air was thick and stale yet remarkably held little of the stench of undeath and the pair began to gain a first hope that the passages had gone undiscovered.

Something darted across the hall in the distance before them. Yarrow froze in place. Behind him the succubus jerked to a stop, casting glances through the gloom. She beheld nothing.

"What is it Master?" She asked, her voice a whisper.

Yarrow stood still. Had he seen anything? He stood thinking... he had seen spirits before. They appeared as if viewed with one eye while the other was open but saw nothing. "I saw... someone..".

"Someone?" Yarrow took from the demon's tone she had seen nothing. He took a breath and raised his left hand, removing his ever-present eyepatch. Golden yellow energy illuminating the near darkness. The eye scanned seeking. He could see the undead. He could see how close they were through some four feet of stone. He could see the great cauldrons spewing forth hatred and hunger incarnate. He saw the lord of this new abyss, Dar’khan, meeting with his advisors. Yet of these things... he saw nothing before him.

"Let us move on, Nazva. This place's evil may be addling the senses." He inwardly cursed his words lacking the conviction he wished them to. They sounded uncertain... weak. Yarrow froze... He castigated himself. Strength was no longer a concern of his. Kalthoryn had cared about strength. Kalthoryn was dead.

They continued on another several yards before stepping sideways into a small room, and pushing the door silently closed. Nazva stood by the warlock as he sunk to a seat in the sparsely furnished room.

"It's funny we should end up here, Nazva. This... Immortal sun...this place! I remember it!"

Nazva smiled openly and nodded. "I shall stand guard over you while you rest Master. Nothing shall harm you."

The sin’dorei nodded gratefully, his mind already coming to that place of calm where dreams and memories stood one and the same. Shadows of the past - memories long pushed down deep into that place he no longer went within; a place of pain and error and greed of strength. They came slowly at first.. mere fragments of memory. Of his brother and he in this very room stealing away playing crossed blades. Solivar always cheated...always pretended to call down magic to win their life and death duels... Paladins did not to use such magics. He recalled a thousand little black puffs of smoke and singed eyebrows as he attempted to master making potions to try and make them both grow up. He recalled Solivar leaping out of a tree and landing on him, the impact breaking Kathoryn's arm. He had lied to father to protect Solivar. But Kalvarin saw through the lie and whipped his second born so venomously Kalthoryn feared ever playing with him again. He recalled growing apart... losing himself in the dreams of a life Kalvarin had never lived. Seeking the Blade of Eventide and the paladin role while Solivar took up the study of magic. Then there was nothing... solitary life and every strange concoction anyone could try upon him; anything to strengthen him. He remember training till his body failed then rising and training further to be the Knight of Eventide. He recalled standing before a mirror in disbelief as his body visibly grew gaunt and emaciated. He feared he was failing. Nothing worked. He recalled attempting to draw the blade and it's defenses pushing away his hand. He recalled Solivar, wroth with him, gripping the blade and their mutual shock when the Blade accepted him as the Knight of Eventide, of being worthy of everything he had ever worked for, hoped and dreamed of, but was found lacking. Even for the hand of his betrothed of tradition. His entire life now the right of Solivar whether he wished it or not. He was not worthy.

Then came the night when Solivar begged and pleaded until he lessened his venom and took some rest. He had sworn to go to the festivities with him and Solivar was not to be denied. Yarrow could no longer even recall the wager that had brought them to it. But Solivar seemed set on preventing the soul lost Kalthoryn from spending a moment in despair. That had been a good night. One he longed for again. For a span of a few hours they were free. Free of pretences. Of hopes and aspirations. Free to be the two brothers they might have been all their lives were it not for Kalvarin. He looked longingly into his twin’s face in those memories. Solivar had tried to change his appearance yet to Yarrow it seemed only to make them all the more alike. He studied that image as he opened his eyes and stared directly into the eyes of a small boy.

Yarrow jumped visibly, startling the succubus even as she stood.

"Master???"

"Nazva why did you not tell me we had company?" He asked her irritated.

"Master?? Of what do you speak... there's no one here." She sounded uncertain and concerned.

Yarrow looked at the demon then back to the child. The boy of roughly nine years stood expectantly in front of him, unmoving. The ends of his lips curled in the very slightest of smiles.

"Nazva cannot see me, Kalthoryn. Only you may. For only you have any hope of recalling."
Skyspear
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Joined: 08 Feb 2011
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re: [Story] Memories are but Shadows [Twinyarrow]

Oooh! Color the DK intrigued. (For DKs, I think that's sort of a light purple.)
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