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Bitter Grey Ashes - 53 of Sly Weasels


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#1 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 02 August 2003 - 08:57 PM

In this part Jon is not exactly a paragon of sincerety ... but I felt he was getting 'too nice' and as it is not really my intent to white-wash him I had to get realistic about his inner motives. I hope it come out 'in character'. As always any comments, corections, typos, etc are greatly appreciated!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE , end
12-13 of Marpenoth 1371, Year of the Unstrung Harp

On the second day of our self-imposed exile into the cold and drafty tunnels of the halflings’ underground refuge, things had settled into a chaotic semblance of a routine, and I was able to walk away from the mess and contemplate my options. Our position with Perch citizens was as precarious as it was uncertain. Technically speaking, it was our arrival and the reckless use of magic that had triggered the dragon attack, and although nobody blamed us openly there were many dark glances and distressed whispers. That our small company was not openly accused of being in league with the dragon should be credited entirely to Olphara’s influence and sensibility. Oddly enough, the venerable Dame Sixthtoe used all her considerable authority to support our case, and it was due to her quiet but persistent diplomacy that we were cleared of any suspicion, and allowed to roam free through the caverns. (I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)

Since the entrance to the hidden sanctuary was located at the bottom of the cliff next to the goat corral and the goatherd’s sheds, Kessen was even able to get to our pony and, most importantly, to her saddlebags, which to his utter astonishment turned out to be undisturbed. I have to confess - it was a great relief, although it still did not solve our problem of getting out of the Marching Mountains alive, and with our treasure intact. And it sounded like it had become even trickier task than it was before.
After a day and a night of chaos and desperation, the halflings finished counting their losses. They were luckier than I estimated at first, since Adalon’s timely intervention had limited the number of the actual casualties to a half a dozen or so, but there were wounded, and many of the injured had suffered from electrical burns that were not easy to treat under any normal circumstances, and that without proper medications were threatening to become inflamed in the damp and stifling air of the underground caverns.

Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.

For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it was impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.

The twins were equally busy, helping clear the mess and moving the wounded and the supplies, although I noticed that Kessen did not show much enthusiasm in proffering his help, and reasonably occupied himself with care for our own equipment and the mount. But Mirriam only checked on her precious pony once, and after that effectively attached herself to the halfling matron. She was scuffling to and fro on Olphara’s errands helping to organize things, and distribute the provisions, and generally ignoring my existence. I was not particularly unhappy with this arrangement – it kept her off my back, at least for now. There was not a single chance that she might eventually forget about my promise to talk the things over between the two of us, and the very thought of having this conversation made me feel itchy and upset. The last thing I wanted was another public display of devotion or of vengeful spite. On the other hand, losing the girl’s affection was not part of my plan, at least not until we have reached Darromar. So, I took to meandering around the caves, doing a little exploration on my own, and generally trying to keep out of everybody’s way.

The caverns system in question looked nothing like the stone-paved corridors under Zaureen’s temple, or the smoothly polished tunnels further down, created by joint effort of the earthquakes and the seasonal floods. The hills in the great desert were part of the Marching Mountains ridge, but the structure and the geological origin of this network of caves was different. Our current habitat was a result of long, tedious work done by running water dribbling through the weaker layers of calcite and clay, which permeated the harder stratum of red granite, rather like filling in a cake.

The result was a rather elaborate and often impassable labyrinth of cavities connected by narrow passages, that spread in three dimensions inside the mountains, and had no beginning and no end, at least as far as I could see. There were halls where the walls were seeping water, that ran in slow rivulets, forming fringes of elaborate, fragile-looking stalactites, and rooms filled to the brink with stone fragments, narrow crevices full of oozing mud and bat guano, and others dry enough to offer some habitable space. It was very probable that some of these caves were connected with the dragon’s lair above at some point, but most likely the path was too narrow to allow direct communication between the two systems. At least the halflings showed no fear of the possible invasion from that direction, and I assumed we were safe on that account.

And that was the main topic that occupied my mind during my visibly futile wondering in the stone labyrinth – the dragon dilemma. As I passed from crevice to crevice, moving the faintly gloving sphere of magic light upwards to illuminate another mineralogical curiosity or a bat-infested shelf (the latter would cause a wave of panic among the senseless critters, sending them in all directions and filling the shadows with rustle and flutter of parchment wings), my mind kept ticking, inventing new reasons not to go and rejecting them as fast as it could generate the counterarguments to my own devices. I knew I had to get inside the dragon’s lair, and find out what happened to Adalon since I would never be able to forgive myself if I let the issue drop and yet, I could not master the courage needed for the deed.

The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels would bring me to Perch, and that it would result in stirring up of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew did not even exist. The question was – would I survive the trial?

“She would surely die,” the voice in my head had claimed. And for all I knew, ‘Joneleth’ would have preferred it this way. Adalon knew him, or at least she knew of him. Would she recognize me as him – I wondered. Would I live through the encounter if she did? There were no clear answers to these questions, and the best course of action would have been to ignore the silver dragon’s existence, and to get away from that place as soon as possible. Yet, I hesitated. The temptation was too great. What if she knew some vital facts about me that the water elemental either refused to relay, or simply could not see? And what if Aluril had lied to me from the start, and I was not responsible for the crimes supposedly committed by my former self? Now that was an option I could not dismiss easily. What if someone was deliberately setting me on the wrong course?

Adalon was a test; a whetstone to sharpen my resolve and set aside the last grain of doubt that was still lingering in my heart. At worst, she was dead already, and could not answer my questions; at best she was injured and weakened by her enemy. I dismissed the idea that Iryklagathra might be alive and in good health. If he was, he would have emerged to finish the village already. Most likely one or both of the dragons were dead, and the winner was in no state to present a serious threat. That last argument was a shaky one; if the surviving reptile was still able to breath, he (or she) was still deadly to a 'soft-skinned worm on two legs' . I remembered the dragon’s boasting and cringed.

“No one humiliates me and gets away with it!”

That statement caught me like a blow in the solar plexus. My head began to spin, and I had to lean against the nearest cold and slimy wall to catch my breath, and quiet the sudden tremor in my hands. It could not have possibly been my own thought. Almost anybody could make a tap dance on my ribs and get away with it, without expecting retribution. That other personality must be closer to the surface than I thought he was.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”

“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”

“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”

“You wish.”

And he fled, evading my desperate clawing at his ephemeral substance, and leaving me torn and shaken at the heart. My head hurt. “Why does it always come to this?” was my last coherent thought, as I crouched on the floor, hugging my knees, and burying my face in the rough, itchy wool of my robe.

“Jon-Jon, are you alright?” Mirri’s voice was frail and distant, like chime of a china cup hitting the stone pavement.

“How long have you been here?” I jumped to my feet, turning to face her, even as I spoke. My hands grabbed her wrists, squeezing them harshly, stopping her futile attempts to free herself before I could even think of what I was doing.

“No more than a minute or so.” She looked pale and terrified. “Please let me go. You are hurting me.”

I glanced at my hands that were gripping her with a force more suitable for restraining a wild horse, and cursed, letting her go.

“Apologies. I hope you won’t have any bruises this time. You should never sneak on me like this - it might be dangerous.”

“I…I did not sneak. I called you several times but you did not answer. You were sitting on the floor talking to yourself, in elven… I think. And then you moaned and… I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude. But I thought you might be hurt or unconscious, like that time after Omwo attacked you with the poisoned dagger…”

“It was not poisoned,” I answered automatically. “In any case – it does not matter!” I corrected myself hurriedly, noticing the look on her face. Damn it – she was standing too close for my comfort. I could almost feel her breath on my cheek. I took a step back. “I am perfectly fine, and you should not be wandering around this place alone – it maybe more dangerous than you think.”

“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how to,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.

I raised my hand and gently pried the tormented plait away from her fingers. She looked at me with an expression of a puppy deprived of its favorite rag doll, but let go. It felt heavy and slightly warm in my palm, and I dropped it as fast as it was a poisonous snake. The conversation was turning slightly insane, I noted with resignation. But at least it bought me some time to recover my wits. And I was not about to tell her that the greatest danger that she faced in these caves was not from a stray kobold or a gibbering.

“How did you find me in the first place?” I asked with a sigh. “It was not like I left a path of bread crumbs. I thought you were busy with your... charity case.”

“Everything is pretty much done,” Mirri said without much enthusiasm. “It was not like they could not manage on their own... But I needed time to think the things over. You don’t have to explain everything to me if you don’t want to!” she blurted out suddenly and blushed. “If you think it was a mistake – just say so. I will not bother you anymore.”

“You mean knocking me down and almost killing me in front of the entire village?” I asked levelly. “I daresay it was a reckless thing to do but...”

“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”

“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.

Yet, I could not help myself - she was so charming in her exasperation that it made me smile instead of provoking my anger. Overall the situation was rather amusing, and it was a good diversion from my other dilemma. Being chased by a young, pretty woman was a much more pleasing occupation than the game that I was currently playing on the other chessboard. “Why would you need to talk about it?” I asked mildly. “It was a pleasant experience for both of us, and I have to admit – I don’t feel sorry in the least. But I am not ready to take it any further, if that is what you are asking. There are certain risks involved for the both sides, and I am not sure that you understand the implications that well.”

If Mirri could turn any darker shade of red, I yet had to see that happen. Luckily for her, her natural coloration mostly concealed her embarrassment.

“D...do you think I am being too hasty? I mean... I let the boys kiss me before, but I did not have any serious relationship with anybody... so, you should tell me if I was lewd.”

“No, no. It was not that.”

I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”

“You should understand my situation better than anybody else,” I said taking her hand in mine and carefully picking the words. Now, if I could remember anything at all about women, this should entice her better than any vows of undying love. “You have spoken with Chyil, did you not? I recall almost nothing of my past. And for all we know I may be a dangerous criminal, or a haunted refugee. Don’t you see how risky it might be to link yourself with me?”

“But, Jon-Jon, I ...”

“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”

To be honest, all through that little speech I half expected her sense of humor to rebel against the cheap melodrama of that last sentence. But I should not have worried – the desire for a romance would always prevail over common sense in the most devious female mind.

“So you are saying...”

“Only that we should wait. Perhaps I am overstating the danger, or perhaps I am not. Time will tell. But I cannot let you throw yourself into a risky affair with a virtual stranger, however enticing it may look to me.”

I stared at her with as much conviction as I could master, wondering if the last statement was an overkill. To Mirri’s credit, she had a slightly perplexed look of a person presented with a curious piece of a jigsaw puzzle that did not quite fit with the rest of her pattern. Now I fully expected her to laugh into my face and tell me it was a pathetic excuse. I forgot about the highly intimidating effect of a melancholic smile on the smooth, unscarred face. Her hand trembled slightly in my own, her lips quivered. In a moment or so two shiny, salty rivulets would run down these perfectly shaped cheekbones, leaving traces of moisture on their wake. I bent over and planted a light, brotherly kiss on her tanned brow. She always smelled of sweet myrtle and desert sand, and her breath was hot and shaky as she sobbed quietly into my collarbone.

“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.

#2 Laufey

Posted 02 August 2003 - 09:37 PM

In this part Jon is not exactly a paragon of sincerety ... but I felt he was getting 'too nice' and as it is not really my intent to white-wash him I had to get realistic about his inner motives. I hope it come out 'in character'. As always any comments, corections, typos, etc are greatly appreciated!


*nods* He's not a hero exactly, no. But anti-heroes are fun too! :)


Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Poor guy...I've been in that exact situation myself. :( Jon *is* right though, rude as he is about it...a physician can do no good if he's tired enough to faint, he might even endanger his patients.

For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it would have been impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.


*shakes head* Jon, Jon...you still have a *lot* to learn.


The caverns system in question looked nothing like the stone-paved corridors under Zaureen’s temple, or the smoothly polished tunnels further down, created by joined effort of the earthquakes and the seasonal floods. The hills in the great desert were part of the Marching Mountains ridge, but the structure and the geological origin of this network of caves was different. Our current habitat was a result of long, tedious work done by running water dribbling through the weaker layers of calcite and clay, which permeated the harder stratum of red granite, rather like filling in a cake.


Once again one of your lovely descriptions. :) Feels like I'm really there.

The result was a rather elaborate and often impassable labyrinth of cavities connected with narrow passages, that spread in three dimensions inside the mountains, and had no beginning and no end, at least as far as I could see. There were halls where the walls were dribbling water, that run in slow rivulets, forming fringes of elaborate, fragile-looking stalactites, and rooms filled to the brink with stone fragments, narrow crevices full of oozing mud and bat guano, and others dry enough to offer some habitable space. It was very probable that some of these caves were connected with the dragon’s lair above at some point, but most likely the path was too narrow to allow direct communication between the two systems. At least the halflings showed no fear of the possible invasion from that direction, and I assumed we were safe on that account.


And this one too...


The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positsive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels will bring me to Perch, and that it will result in stirring of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew might not even existed. The question was – would I survive the trial?


Wis 17? I think not. :roll:

“She would surely die,” the voice in my head had claimed. And for all I knew, ‘Joneleth’ would have preferred it this way. Adalon knew him, or at least she knew of him. Would she recognize me as him – I wondered. Would I live through the encounter if she did? There were no clear answers to these questions, and the best course of action would have been to ignore the silver dragon’s existence, and to get away from that place as soon as possible. Yet, I hesitated. The temptation was too great. What if she knew some vital facts about me that the water elemental either refused to relay, or simply could not see? And what if Aluril had lied to me from the start, and I was not responsible for the crimes supposedly committed by my former self?


Hm, I wonder if Adalon ever *did* see Jon directly? I can't remember if this was mentioned in the game.


“No one humiliates me and gets away with it!”


That statement caught me like a blow in the solar plexus. My head began to spin, and I had to lean against the nearest cold and slimy wall to catch my breath, and quiet the sudden tremor in my hands. It could not have possibly been my own thought. Almost anybody could make a tap dance on my ribs and get away with it, without expecting retribution. That other personality must be closer to the surface than I thought he was.


“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”


“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”


“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”


“You wish.”


Wow. :shock: Pretty scary...talk about multiple personality. Know what else it reminds me of, preciousssss? ;) But Jon looks better than Gollum, at least these days.


“It was not poisoned,” I answered automatically. “In any case – it does not matter!” I corrected myself hurriedly, noticing the look on her face. Damn it – she was standing too close for my comfort. I could almost feel her breath on my cheek. I took a step back. “I am perfectly fine, and you should not be wondering around this place alone – it maybe more dangerous than you think.”


'wandering'

“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how too,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.


Oh dear...she is so young. :(


Yet, I could not help myself - she was so attractive in her exasperation that it made me smile instead of provoking my anger. Overall the situation was rather amusing, and it was a good diversion from my other dilemma. Being chased by a young, pretty woman was a much more pleasing occupation than the game that I was currently playing on the other chessboard. “Why would you need to talk about it?” I asked mildly. “It was a pleasant experience for both of us, and I have to admit – I don’t feel sorry at the least. But I am not ready to take it any further, if that is what you are asking. There are certain risks involved for the both sides, and I am not sure that you understand the implications that well.”


If Mirri could turn any darker shade of red, I yet had to see that happen. Luckily for her, her natural coloration mostly concealed her embarrassment.


“D...do you think I am being too hasty? I mean... I let the boys kiss me before, but I did not have any serious relationship with anybody... so, you should tell me if I was lewd.”


“No, no. It was not that.”


I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


Oh, that is so *cold*! *shiver* Very bad boy, Jon. Where is that tentacle rod...


“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”


To be honest, all through that little speech I half expected her sense of humor to rebel against the cheap melodrama of that last sentence. But I should not have worried – the desire for a romance would always prevail over common sense in the most devious female mind.


Now he has *really* earned himself a spanking...


I stared at her with as much conviction as I could master, wondering if the last statement was an overkill. To Mirri’s credit, she had a slightly puzzled look of a person presented with a curious piece of a jigsaw puzzle that did not quite fit with the rest of her pattern. Now I fully expected her to laugh into my face and tell me it was a pathetic excuse. I forgot about the highly intimidating effect of a melancholic smile on the smooth, unscarred face. Her hand trembled slightly in my own, her lips quivered. In a moment or so two shiny, salty rivulets would run down these perfectly shaped cheekbones, leaving traces of moisture on their wake. I bent over and planted a light, brotherly kiss on her tanned brow. She always smelled of sweet myrtle and the desert sand, and her breath was a hot and shaky as she sobbed quietly into my collarbone.


'intimidating' eh? ;)

“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


He'd better not hurt her, he'll be in such a lot of trouble...
Rogues do it from behind.

#3 Guest_Rose of Jericho_*

Posted 02 August 2003 - 11:04 PM

Technically speaking, it was our arrival and the reckless use of magic that had triggered the dragon attack, and although nobody blamed us openly there were many dark glances and distressed whispers. That our small company was not openly accused of being in league with the dragon should be credited entirely to Olphara’s influence and sensibility. Oddly enough, the venerable Dame Sixthtoe used all her considerable authority to support our case, and it was due to her quiet but persistent work of diplomacy that we were cleared of any suspicion, and allowed to roam free through the caverns. (I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)


I'm glad that you put that in there. After the general chaos dies down, it's natural for folks to seek a scapegoat. It's realistic that Jon and Co. would be feeling a little blamed.

Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Oh my gosh, this is an intesely touching paragraph. Ouch.

“No one humiliates me and gets away with it!”

That statement caught me like a blow in the solar plexus. My head began to spin, and I had to lean against the nearest cold and slimy wall to catch my breath, and quiet the sudden tremor in my hands. It could not have possibly been my own thought. Almost anybody could make a tap dance on my ribs and get away with it, without expecting retribution. That other personality must be closer to the surface than I thought he was.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”

“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”

“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”

“You wish.”


Wow. I've always said that it's OK to talk to yourself as long as you're not getting an answer. But you pulled this one off without Jon seeming nuts. And, since we know who "she" is, it's a little treat. Or do we? :)

“How long have you been here?” I jumped to my feet, turning to face her, even as I spoke. My hands grabbed her wrists, squeezing them harshly, stopping her futile attempts to free herself before I could even think of what I was doing.


Squeezing harshly? It's probably right, but it sounded odd to me. I would have used roughly. That's just me, though. :)

“I…I did not sneak. I called you several times but you did not answer. You were sitting on the floor talking to yourself, on elven… I think. And then you moaned and… I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude. But I thought you might be hurt or unconscious, like that time after Omwo attacked you with the poisoned dagger…”


in elven

“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how too,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.


I like how she says "grownup man." It gives her a little bit of childishness, which shows that she's not quite a "grownup" herelf yet.

Grammarwise -- ".. at least I know how to,"

“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”


:lol: good metaphor in that last sentence.

“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.


See, I thought she did too!

I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


This sneaky using thing he's doing makes me squirm, which means that you're doing it exactly right. Jon's not exactly a nice man, nor an honest one, and I'm glad that's coming through. Very true to the character you're creating.

I stared at her with as much conviction as I could master, wondering if the last statement was an overkill. To Mirri’s credit, she had a slightly puzzled look of a person presented with a curious piece of a jigsaw puzzle that did not quite fit with the rest of her pattern. Now I fully expected her to laugh into my face and tell me it was a pathetic excuse. I forgot about the highly intimidating effect of a melancholic smile on the smooth, unscarred face. Her hand trembled slightly in my own, her lips quivered. In a moment or so two shiny, salty rivulets would run down these perfectly shaped cheekbones, leaving traces of moisture on their wake. I bent over and planted a light, brotherly kiss on her tanned brow. She always smelled of sweet myrtle and the desert sand, and her breath was a hot and shaky as she sobbed quietly into my collarbone.

“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


Of course, he's not a nice guy, but he has a potential to be a decent one to those he cares about. And, he doesn't know himself at all, either past or present. And that comes through here, too. Very satisfying way to end the chapter.

Great installment!

Rose of Jericho

#4 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 03 August 2003 - 05:42 AM

In this part Jon is not exactly a paragon of sincerety ... but I felt he was getting 'too nice' and as it is not really my intent to white-wash him I had to get realistic about his inner motives. I hope it come out 'in character'. As always any comments, corections, typos, etc are greatly appreciated!


*nods* He's not a hero exactly, no. But anti-heroes are fun too! :)


Actually I find them more fun to write. The character of many shades. :)


Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Poor guy...I've been in that exact situation myself. :( Jon *is* right though, rude as he is about it...a physician can do no good if he's tired enough to faint, he might even endanger his patients.


It is quite interesting to hear your reaction to this piece from a 'professional' point of view.


For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it would have been impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.


*shakes head* Jon, Jon...you still have a *lot* to learn.


Ah. I suppose it means he is coming through as very cold and cynical here - good.


The caverns system in question looked nothing like the stone-paved corridors under Zaureen’s temple, or the smoothly polished tunnels further down, created by joined effort of the earthquakes and the seasonal floods. The hills in the great desert were part of the Marching Mountains ridge, but the structure and the geological origin of this network of caves was different. Our current habitat was a result of long, tedious work done by running water dribbling through the weaker layers of calcite and clay, which permeated the harder stratum of red granite, rather like filling in a cake.


Once again one of your lovely descriptions. :) Feels like I'm really there.


I have been to a few caves in my life! :)


The result was a rather elaborate and often impassable labyrinth of cavities connected with narrow passages, that spread in three dimensions inside the mountains, and had no beginning and no end, at least as far as I could see. There were halls where the walls were dribbling water, that run in slow rivulets, forming fringes of elaborate, fragile-looking stalactites, and rooms filled to the brink with stone fragments, narrow crevices full of oozing mud and bat guano, and others dry enough to offer some habitable space. It was very probable that some of these caves were connected with the dragon’s lair above at some point, but most likely the path was too narrow to allow direct communication between the two systems. At least the halflings showed no fear of the possible invasion from that direction, and I assumed we were safe on that account.


And this one too...


Thanks - this description has its origin in a cave we actually saw in Idaho.


The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positsive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels will bring me to Perch, and that it will result in stirring of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew might not even existed. The question was – would I survive the trial?


Wis 17? I think not. :roll:


:P :twisted:


“She would surely die,” the voice in my head had claimed. And for all I knew, ‘Joneleth’ would have preferred it this way. Adalon knew him, or at least she knew of him. Would she recognize me as him – I wondered. Would I live through the encounter if she did? There were no clear answers to these questions, and the best course of action would have been to ignore the silver dragon’s existence, and to get away from that place as soon as possible. Yet, I hesitated. The temptation was too great. What if she knew some vital facts about me that the water elemental either refused to relay, or simply could not see? And what if Aluril had lied to me from the start, and I was not responsible for the crimes supposedly committed by my former self?


Hm, I wonder if Adalon ever *did* see Jon directly? I can't remember if this was mentioned in the game.


Allm she says is that he had filched her eggs somehow. I have my own backstory, and hopefully it will be at least entertaining.


“No one humiliates me and gets away with it!”



That statement caught me like a blow in the solar plexus. My head began to spin, and I had to lean against the nearest cold and slimy wall to catch my breath, and quiet the sudden tremor in my hands. It could not have possibly been my own thought. Almost anybody could make a tap dance on my ribs and get away with it, without expecting retribution. That other personality must be closer to the surface than I thought he was.



“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”



“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”



“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”



“You wish.”


Wow. :wink: Pretty scary...talk about multiple personality. Know what else it reminds me of, preciousssss? ;) But Jon looks better than Gollum, at least these days.


Yeah. But what is more important is what inside - right? Well, I don't believe he is actually as far gone as Golum, and now he has a soul. But the problem is - he had had it before, and fallen. All his arrogance and calculating cruelty is still there even if he does look pretty as a doll now. Still, he has to learn from his past at least something...



“It was not poisoned,” I answered automatically. “In any case – it does not matter!” I corrected myself hurriedly, noticing the look on her face. Damn it – she was standing too close for my comfort. I could almost feel her breath on my cheek. I took a step back. “I am perfectly fine, and you should not be wondering around this place alone – it maybe more dangerous than you think.”


'wandering'


thnx!


“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how too,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.


Oh dear...she is so young. :(


Good ! She should feel completely outmatched.


Yet, I could not help myself - she was so attractive in her exasperation that it made me smile instead of provoking my anger. Overall the situation was rather amusing, and it was a good diversion from my other dilemma. Being chased by a young, pretty woman was a much more pleasing occupation than the game that I was currently playing on the other chessboard. “Why would you need to talk about it?” I asked mildly. “It was a pleasant experience for both of us, and I have to admit – I don’t feel sorry at the least. But I am not ready to take it any further, if that is what you are asking. There are certain risks involved for the both sides, and I am not sure that you understand the implications that well.”



If Mirri could turn any darker shade of red, I yet had to see that happen. Luckily for her, her natural coloration mostly concealed her embarrassment.



“D...do you think I am being too hasty? I mean... I let the boys kiss me before, but I did not have any serious relationship with anybody... so, you should tell me if I was lewd.”



“No, no. It was not that.”



I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


Oh, that is so *cold*! *shiver* Very bad boy, Jon. Where is that tentacle rod...


Nod. That was the effect I was after. There are certain things that he has not 'unlearned'. And it is going to bring more pain and suffering yet, before it becomes better...


“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”



To be honest, all through that little speech I half expected her sense of humor to rebel against the cheap melodrama of that last sentence. But I should not have worried – the desire for a romance would always prevail over common sense in the most devious female mind.


Now he has *really* earned himself a spanking...


And mind it - he *is* telling the truth, but he is twisting and abusing it to his own ends ...


I stared at her with as much conviction as I could master, wondering if the last statement was an overkill. To Mirri’s credit, she had a slightly puzzled look of a person presented with a curious piece of a jigsaw puzzle that did not quite fit with the rest of her pattern. Now I fully expected her to laugh into my face and tell me it was a pathetic excuse. I forgot about the highly intimidating effect of a melancholic smile on the smooth, unscarred face. Her hand trembled slightly in my own, her lips quivered. In a moment or so two shiny, salty rivulets would run down these perfectly shaped cheekbones, leaving traces of moisture on their wake. I bent over and planted a light, brotherly kiss on her tanned brow. She always smelled of sweet myrtle and the desert sand, and her breath was a hot and shaky as she sobbed quietly into my collarbone.


'intimidating' eh? ;)


:roll:


“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


He'd better not hurt her, he'll be in such a lot of trouble...


Oh, but it won't stop him - not until it is too late... but again, he does not mean to hurt, he is just being himself.

Sigh.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

#5 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 03 August 2003 - 05:56 AM

Technically speaking, it was our arrival and the reckless use of magic that had triggered the dragon attack, and although nobody blamed us openly there were many dark glances and distressed whispers. That our small company was not openly accused of being in league with the dragon should be credited entirely to Olphara’s influence and sensibility. Oddly enough, the venerable Dame Sixthtoe used all her considerable authority to support our case, and it was due to her quiet but persistent work of diplomacy that we were cleared of any suspicion, and allowed to roam free through the caverns. (I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)


I'm glad that you put that in there. After the general chaos dies down, it's natural for folks to seek a scapegoat. It's realistic that Jon and Co. would be feeling a little blamed.


I have to credit the idea to Maidros who once asked me if Jon and Omwo would be blamed. It made me think about it. :wink:


Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Oh my gosh, this is an intesely touching paragraph. Ouch.


Thanks!


“No one humiliates me and gets away with it!”


That statement caught me like a blow in the solar plexus. My head began to spin, and I had to lean against the nearest cold and slimy wall to catch my breath, and quiet the sudden tremor in my hands. It could not have possibly been my own thought. Almost anybody could make a tap dance on my ribs and get away with it, without expecting retribution. That other personality must be closer to the surface than I thought he was.


“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”


“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”


“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”


“You wish.”


Wow. I've always said that it's OK to talk to yourself as long as you're not getting an answer. But you pulled this one off without Jon seeming nuts. And, since we know who "she" is, it's a little treat. Or do we? :)


Ah. Good question - there are several candidates, but I think there is only one who qualifies most, and whom he would call 'She' with a capital 'S'.


“How long have you been here?” I jumped to my feet, turning to face her, even as I spoke. My hands grabbed her wrists, squeezing them harshly, stopping her futile attempts to free herself before I could even think of what I was doing.


Squeezing harshly? It's probably right, but it sounded odd to me. I would have used roughly. That's just me, though. :)


No - I think your sense of language is cerrect here. This part was a little hasty. I was sort of rushing through it scared of my own mind ...


“I…I did not sneak. I called you several times but you did not answer. You were sitting on the floor talking to yourself, on elven… I think. And then you moaned and… I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude. But I thought you might be hurt or unconscious, like that time after Omwo attacked you with the poisoned dagger…”


in elven


thnx!


“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how too,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.


I like how she says "grownup man." It gives her a little bit of childishness, which shows that she's not quite a "grownup" herelf yet.


No, she is not. Although she likes to think of herself as she is an adult ...

Grammarwise -- ".. at least I know how to,"


Thanks!


“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”


:roll: good metaphor in that last sentence.


Heh. It seemed natural in a smuggler's daughter. :twisted:


“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.


See, I thought she did too!


Jonny is a sly one. Don't you trust him.


I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


This sneaky using thing he's doing makes me squirm, which means that you're doing it exactly right. Jon's not exactly a nice man, nor an honest one, and I'm glad that's coming through. Very true to the character you're creating.


Good - it means his motives are 'realistic' enough. I was afraid the logic behind his plotting was a bit shaky. :P


I stared at her with as much conviction as I could master, wondering if the last statement was an overkill. To Mirri’s credit, she had a slightly puzzled look of a person presented with a curious piece of a jigsaw puzzle that did not quite fit with the rest of her pattern. Now I fully expected her to laugh into my face and tell me it was a pathetic excuse. I forgot about the highly intimidating effect of a melancholic smile on the smooth, unscarred face. Her hand trembled slightly in my own, her lips quivered. In a moment or so two shiny, salty rivulets would run down these perfectly shaped cheekbones, leaving traces of moisture on their wake. I bent over and planted a light, brotherly kiss on her tanned brow. She always smelled of sweet myrtle and the desert sand, and her breath was a hot and shaky as she sobbed quietly into my collarbone.


“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


Of course, he's not a nice guy, but he has a potential to be a decent one to those he cares about. And, he doesn't know himself at all, either past or present. And that comes through here, too. Very satisfying way to end the chapter.


Blush. That was a great compliment. Yes - I meant him as a weasel, but not without his own code of honor. The problem is - it is very stretchable one ...

Great installment!


Thanks for reading and commenting!

#6 Laufey

Posted 03 August 2003 - 06:32 AM



Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.



Poor guy...I've been in that exact situation myself. :twisted: Jon *is* right though, rude as he is about it...a physician can do no good if he's tired enough to faint, he might even endanger his patients.


It is quite interesting to hear your reaction to this piece from a 'professional' point of view.


It's one lesson that's very important to learn, unless you want to burn yourself out. The need for help never ceases, but unless you take the time to eat, sleep, and visit the bathroom, you won't be a good doctor, and you might even be a dangerous one.
Rogues do it from behind.

#7 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 03 August 2003 - 07:23 AM

It's one lesson that's very important to learn, unless you want to burn yourself out. The need for help never ceases, but unless you take the time to eat, sleep, and visit the bathroom, you won't be a good doctor, and you might even be a dangerous one.


I had a friend once who was a medical student and was working in one of the many ambulance night teams in the Trauma Center in Moscow... That guy had told me quite a few stories about his experience. I tried to write Jon's response as of one cold and practical, but not entirely heartless, as he should be able to feel at least 'some' empathy now. And I really understand your point very well!

#8 Guest_Theodur_*

Posted 03 August 2003 - 10:17 AM

Since the entrance to the hidden sanctuary was located at the bottom of the cliff next to the goat corral and the goatherd’s sheds, Kessen was even able to get to our pony and, most importantly, to her saddlebags, which to his utter astonishment turned out to be undisturbed. I have to confess - it was a great relief, although it still did not solve our problem of getting out of the Marching Mountains alive, and with our treasure intact. And it sounded like it became even trickier task than it was before.
After a day and a night of chaos and desperation, the halflings finished counting their losses. They were luckier than I estimated at first, since Adalon’s timely intervention had limited the number of the actual casualties to a half a dozen or so, but there were wounded, and many of the injured had suffered from electrical burns that were not easy to treat under any normal circumstances, and that without proper medications were threatening to become inflamed in the damp and stifling air of the underground caverns.


Ouch! Would the nature of the wounds matter much to the clerical-magic healing powers? Or is it that they have no or too few priests to heal everybody?

Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Ah, there is the answer to my previous question... and if he is their only priest, then they are in a bit of a mess indeed...

For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it would have been impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.


Heh, I guess he's an unselfish fellow at heart, that Omwo...

The twins were equally busy, helping to clear the mess and move the wounded and the supplies, although I noticed that Kessen did not show much enthusiasm in proffering his help, and reasonably occupied himself with care for our own equipment and the mount. But Mirriam only checked on her precious pony once, and after that effectively attached herself to the halfling matron. She was scuffling to and fro on Olphara’s errands generally helping to organize things, and distribute the provisions, and generally ignoring my existance. I was not particularly unhappy with this arrangement – it kept her off my back, at least for now. There was not a single chance that she might eventually forget about my promise to talk the things over between the two of us, and the very thought of having this conversation made me feel itchy and upset. The last thing I wanted right now was another public display of devotion or of vengeful spite. On the other hand, losing the girl’s affection was not part of my plan, at least not until we have reached Darromar. So, I took to meandering around the caves, doing a little exploration on my own, and generally trying to keep out of everybody’s way.


Heh. I seem to have forgotten what was Jon-Jon's destination - Evermeet, yes? So he is heading to some port city looking to get aboard a ship or... I also remember how I was frantically looking for a city called Darromar in that 'Faerun Atlas' map... gah! It was still called Ithmong there, d'oh! Now at least I know approx where Jon and Co are... :wink:

The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positsive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels will bring me to Perch, and that it will result in stirring of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew might not even existed. The question was – would I survive the trial?


Ah, good - if not for the interest in her knowledge of her past, I would not thought Jon caring too much about her fate.

Now that was an option I could not dismiss easily. What if someone was deliberately setting me on the wrong course?
Adalon was a test; a whetstone to sharpen my resolve and set aside the last grain of doubt that was still lingering in my heart. At worst, she was dead already, and could not answer my questions; at best she was injured and weakened by her enemy. I dismissed the idea that Iryklagathra might be alive and in good health. If he was, he would have emerged to finish the village already. Most likely one or both of the dragons were dead, and the winner was in no state to present a serious threat. That last argument was a shaky one; if the surviving reptile was still able to breath, he (or she) was still deadly to a 'soft-skinned worm on two legs'. I remembered the dragon’s boasting and cringed.


Good argument. Actually an injured animal (or dragon, I would presume) is that much more dangerous.

And he fled, evading my desperate clawing at his ephemeral substance, and leaving me torn and shaken at the heart. My head hurt. “Why does it always come to this?” was my last coherent thought, as I crouched on the floor, hugging my knees, and burying my face in the rough, itchy wool of my robe.


Ouch! That's quite a battle he's fighting... quite reminiscent of the bhaalspawns fight vs. the essence of bhaal...

“I…I did not sneak. I called you several times but you did not answer. You were sitting on the floor talking to yourself, on elven… I think. And then you moaned and… I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude. But I thought you might be hurt or unconscious, like that time after Omwo attacked you with the poisoned dagger…”


Poor girl... I often think that she cares for the wrong person, but I hope that Jon might prove me wrong.

“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how too,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.


Think you meant 'how to'

“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”


“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.


Yep, she's quite well-spoken for such a young girl.

I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


Well, that doesn't mean that you *should* shag her, though. His calculative approach to the emotional sphere and feelings is a bit unnerving, I would say.

“Only that we should wait. Perhaps I am overstating the danger, or perhaps I am not. Time will tell. But I cannot let you throw yourself into a risky affair with a virtual stranger, however enticing it may look to me.”


Well, that's a pretty decent way out, I should think.

“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


Well, he didn't exactly close all the doors behind him, so I guess this is not the end of their story... :twisted:

#9 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 03 August 2003 - 04:55 PM


Since the entrance to the hidden sanctuary was located at the bottom of the cliff next to the goat corral and the goatherd’s sheds, Kessen was even able to get to our pony and, most importantly, to her saddlebags, which to his utter astonishment turned out to be undisturbed. I have to confess - it was a great relief, although it still did not solve our problem of getting out of the Marching Mountains alive, and with our treasure intact. And it sounded like it became even trickier task than it was before.
After a day and a night of chaos and desperation, the halflings finished counting their losses. They were luckier than I estimated at first, since Adalon’s timely intervention had limited the number of the actual casualties to a half a dozen or so, but there were wounded, and many of the injured had suffered from electrical burns that were not easy to treat under any normal circumstances, and that without proper medications were threatening to become inflamed in the damp and stifling air of the underground caverns.


Ouch! Would the nature of the wounds matter much to the clerical-magic healing powers? Or is it that they have no or too few priests to heal everybody?


The latter - Derk Sixthtoe is their only cleric-mage, although you are right - I just realised I should give him an apprentice.


Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Ah, there is the answer to my previous question... and if he is their only priest, then they are in a bit of a mess indeed...


Sure thing. It was a disaster.


For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it would have been impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.


Heh, I guess he's an unselfish fellow at heart, that Omwo...


I wrote Omwo as CN but he is definitely leaning towards CG now, but since I don't believe in alignment anyway let's just say he is among his own kin, and there were in particular children. Halfling tend to have large families ( not as large as gnomes but still) and Omwo's background is a farmer's family...


The twins were equally busy, helping to clear the mess and move the wounded and the supplies, although I noticed that Kessen did not show much enthusiasm in proffering his help, and reasonably occupied himself with care for our own equipment and the mount. But Mirriam only checked on her precious pony once, and after that effectively attached herself to the halfling matron. She was scuffling to and fro on Olphara’s errands generally helping to organize things, and distribute the provisions, and generally ignoring my existance. I was not particularly unhappy with this arrangement – it kept her off my back, at least for now. There was not a single chance that she might eventually forget about my promise to talk the things over between the two of us, and the very thought of having this conversation made me feel itchy and upset. The last thing I wanted right now was another public display of devotion or of vengeful spite. On the other hand, losing the girl’s affection was not part of my plan, at least not until we have reached Darromar. So, I took to meandering around the caves, doing a little exploration on my own, and generally trying to keep out of everybody’s way.


Heh. I seem to have forgotten what was Jon-Jon's destination - Evermeet, yes? So he is heading to some port city looking to get aboard a ship or... I also remember how I was frantically looking for a city called Darromar in that 'Faerun Atlas' map... gah! It was still called Ithmong there, d'oh! Now at least I know approx where Jon and Co are... ;)


Evereska - deep within northers forests and hills. It is over 1000 miles from Calimshan, and taking the ship maybe a good idea, but then they will have to travel inland. As to their whereabouts - check this:

http://www.onlinefic...Ashes/Map1.html

They are following the outline of the Marching Mountains and are about to reach Qian Hillfort. Zaureen's Temple was in the 'pocket' of desert left of the Mountains 'tongue'. I assume Amkethran is at the very tip of that 'tongue'. I better skip the rest of their trip to Darromar though!


The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positsive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels will bring me to Perch, and that it will result in stirring of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew might not even existed. The question was – would I survive the trial?


Ah, good - if not for the interest in her knowledge of her past, I would not thought Jon caring too much about her fate.


And he does not.


Now that was an option I could not dismiss easily. What if someone was deliberately setting me on the wrong course?
Adalon was a test; a whetstone to sharpen my resolve and set aside the last grain of doubt that was still lingering in my heart. At worst, she was dead already, and could not answer my questions; at best she was injured and weakened by her enemy. I dismissed the idea that Iryklagathra might be alive and in good health. If he was, he would have emerged to finish the village already. Most likely one or both of the dragons were dead, and the winner was in no state to present a serious threat. That last argument was a shaky one; if the surviving reptile was still able to breath, he (or she) was still deadly to a 'soft-skinned worm on two legs'. I remembered the dragon’s boasting and cringed.


Good argument. Actually an injured animal (or dragon, I would presume) is that much more dangerous.


Depends on the degree of the injury!


And he fled, evading my desperate clawing at his ephemeral substance, and leaving me torn and shaken at the heart. My head hurt. “Why does it always come to this?” was my last coherent thought, as I crouched on the floor, hugging my knees, and burying my face in the rough, itchy wool of my robe.


Ouch! That's quite a battle he's fighting... quite reminiscent of the bhaalspawns fight vs. the essence of bhaal...


Ah, it was deliberate, actually. I *am* trying to bring out some parallels. And Mirri is a young, cheerful rogue who would later decide to study magic ...


“I…I did not sneak. I called you several times but you did not answer. You were sitting on the floor talking to yourself, on elven… I think. And then you moaned and… I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude. But I thought you might be hurt or unconscious, like that time after Omwo attacked you with the poisoned dagger…”


Poor girl... I often think that she cares for the wrong person, but I hope that Jon might prove me wrong.


So do I, actually. She is crucial for his awakening. He has yet to understand that love can be completely gratuitous.


“But you are here,” she pointed out reasonably. “Therefore I am not alone. And in any case, whom do you take me for – a little girl? I am eighteen, and an assassin in training.” Mirri shrugged in annoyance. Her hands played with the end of her braid again, as they always did when she was nervous. “I can kill a grownup man with nothing but my bare hands and a piece of rope. Well, at least I know how too,” she admitted noticing my skeptical gaze and tugged at her hair.


Think you meant 'how to'


Thanks!


“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”



“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.


Yep, she's quite well-spoken for such a young girl.


I hope not too much. I assume Saemon did care for his children, even illegitimate ones, and at least paid for some basic schooling, plus he himself was a relatively educated person - a captain no less, and the girl was sent to the best assassin's school for training fo a year.


I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


Well, that doesn't mean that you *should* shag her, though. His calculative approach to the emotional sphere and feelings is a bit unnerving, I would say.


Good. It should be. It is funny though how you take it - you see, I felt him falling for her would have been better than his 'approach' - ie keeping her on a short leash and sort of titillating her imagination without sleeping with her...


“Only that we should wait. Perhaps I am overstating the danger, or perhaps I am not. Time will tell. But I cannot let you throw yourself into a risky affair with a virtual stranger, however enticing it may look to me.”


Well, that's a pretty decent way out, I should think.


Well, he is not a complete cad I think, just cold, way too cold.


“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


Well, he didn't exactly close all the doors behind him, so I guess this is not the end of their story... :wink:


No it is not - I promise. Mirriam maybe young but she is not stupid at all. Just a bit reckless.:)

Thanks for reading and commenting!

#10 Guest_kevtg_*

Posted 04 August 2003 - 08:44 PM

Just to make sure, this is after the game right? I seem to have missed most of these over the course of my government imposed exiles.

That said the idea is intriguing, though I have to go back and read a few parts just to figure out what the hell is going on. Good show.

Kev

#11 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 04 August 2003 - 09:39 PM

Just to make sure, this is after the game right? I seem to have missed most of these over the course of my government imposed exiles.


Oh dear, oh dear. Yes, Kevin it has been a long time since you were a regular here. I am extatic to see you back, and yes this story is taking place 'after' the game. To be precise - after the ToB-Ascension-Redemption. In Ascension if you ever played it, Melissan summons Irenicus and Bodhi from Hell to fight you again. To put it short I wrote and coded an alternative ending to it in which Jon is offered an opportunity to join with PC agains Mellissan in exchange for his possible redemption by the Seldarine. At the end of it he is granted a human soul ( a new one) but no connection to the Elven Spirit, and made to suffer through every one of his own tortures that he ever imposed on anybody. After this procedure he is reduced to level 1 elven mage, but also restored to his original 'before the fall' body. Since it was extremely painful, he deliberately shuts off his memories of his entire former life. So, now we have an elven youngster with personality of Irenicus and complete amnesia. Bitter Grey Ashes take place after he suddenly wakes up in Amkethran with no memory of who he is and how he got there. The entire novel is quite long by now and the link to the website is in my signature, if you are interested. :roll:

That said the idea is intriguing, though I have to go back and read a few parts just to figure out what the hell is going on. Good show.


The entire novel is quite long by now and the link to the website is in my signature, if you are interested. :evil:

Or here

http://www.onlinefic...itterAshes.html

#12 Guest_Bjorn_*

Posted 04 August 2003 - 10:08 PM

On the second day of our self-imposed exile into the cold and drafty tunnels of the halflings’ underground refuge, things had settled into a chaotic semblance of a routine, and I was able to walk away from the mess and contemplate my options. Our position with Perch citizens was as precarious as it was uncertain. Technically speaking, it was our arrival and the reckless use of magic that had triggered the dragon attack, and although nobody blamed us openly there were many dark glances and distressed whispers. That our small company was not openly accused of being in league with the dragon should be credited entirely to Olphara’s influence and sensibility. Oddly enough, the venerable Dame Sixthtoe used all her considerable authority to support our case, and it was due to her quiet but persistent diplomacy that we were cleared of any suspicion, and allowed to roam free through the caverns. (I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)


'our position with the Perch citizens'

Hmm, so Jonny and co aren't exactly flavour of the month, then. What's ahppened to kessen and the pony, by the way? Have they been left outside for the dragon to eat?

Since the entrance to the hidden sanctuary was located at the bottom of the cliff next to the goat corral and the goatherd’s sheds, Kessen was even able to get to our pony and, most importantly, to her saddlebags, which to his utter astonishment turned out to be undisturbed. I have to confess - it was a great relief, although it still did not solve our problem of getting out of the Marching Mountains alive, and with our treasure intact. And it sounded like it had become even trickier task than it was before.
After a day and a night of chaos and desperation, the halflings finished counting their losses. They were luckier than I estimated at first, since Adalon’s timely intervention had limited the number of the actual casualties to a half a dozen or so, but there were wounded, and many of the injured had suffered from electrical burns that were not easy to treat under any normal circumstances, and that without proper medications were threatening to become inflamed in the damp and stifling air of the underground caverns.


Ah good, so they still have the treasure.

'become an even trickier task than it was before'

The 'I have to confess' line sounds a bit out of place to me for some reason - I find it hard to imagine jon using that turn of phrase.

Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Guess that would be sensible, but not everyone sees things in such a logical, dispassionate way as Jon.

For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it was impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.


Doubt Omwo would agree to leave even if he was able though - he'd want to stay and help the other halflings.

The twins were equally busy, helping clear the mess and moving the wounded and the supplies, although I noticed that Kessen did not show much enthusiasm in proffering his help, and reasonably occupied himself with care for our own equipment and the mount. But Mirriam only checked on her precious pony once, and after that effectively attached herself to the halfling matron. She was scuffling to and fro on Olphara’s errands helping to organize things, and distribute the provisions, and generally ignoring my existence. I was not particularly unhappy with this arrangement – it kept her off my back, at least for now. There was not a single chance that she might eventually forget about my promise to talk the things over between the two of us, and the very thought of having this conversation made me feel itchy and upset. The last thing I wanted was another public display of devotion or of vengeful spite. On the other hand, losing the girl’s affection was not part of my plan, at least not until we have reached Darromar. So, I took to meandering around the caves, doing a little exploration on my own, and generally trying to keep out of everybody’s way.


So Jon's going to keep encouraging Mirri because he can make use of the fact that she cares for him? Hope he's prepared to put up with a few more embarrassing moments along the way, then.

'at least not until we reached darromar'

not sure 'scuffling' is the right word - maybe you meant 'scuttling'?

The caverns system in question looked nothing like the stone-paved corridors under Zaureen’s temple, or the smoothly polished tunnels further down, created by joint effort of the earthquakes and the seasonal floods. The hills in the great desert were part of the Marching Mountains ridge, but the structure and the geological origin of this network of caves was different. Our current habitat was a result of long, tedious work done by running water dribbling through the weaker layers of calcite and clay, which permeated the harder stratum of red granite, rather like filling in a cake.


'cavern system', 'created by a joint effort from the earthquakes and the seasonal floods'

The result was a rather elaborate and often impassable labyrinth of cavities connected by narrow passages, that spread in three dimensions inside the mountains, and had no beginning and no end, at least as far as I could see. There were halls where the walls were seeping water, that ran in slow rivulets, forming fringes of elaborate, fragile-looking stalactites, and rooms filled to the brink with stone fragments, narrow crevices full of oozing mud and bat guano, and others dry enough to offer some habitable space. It was very probable that some of these caves were connected with the dragon’s lair above at some point, but most likely the path was too narrow to allow direct communication between the two systems. At least the halflings showed no fear of the possible invasion from that direction, and I assumed we were safe on that account.


no comma needed after 'narrow passages'

They're not going to be able to hide in the passages forever though - sooner or later someone's going to have to go outside and see if the dragon's still there or not.

And that was the main topic that occupied my mind during my visibly futile wondering in the stone labyrinth – the dragon dilemma. As I passed from crevice to crevice, moving the faintly gloving sphere of magic light upwards to illuminate another mineralogical curiosity or a bat-infested shelf (the latter would cause a wave of panic among the senseless critters, sending them in all directions and filling the shadows with rustle and flutter of parchment wings), my mind kept ticking, inventing new reasons not to go and rejecting them as fast as it could generate the counterarguments to my own devices. I knew I had to get inside the dragon’s lair, and find out what happened to Adalon since I would never be able to forgive myself if I let the issue drop and yet, I could not master the courage needed for the deed.


typo: 'glowing'

Not sure Jon would say 'critters' - I'd expect him to use rather more scientific language :evil:

'with the rustle and flutter'

comma after 'and yet' should be moved to after 'drop'.

should probably be 'muster the courage' not 'master the courage'

I like the description of how his mind's working here.

The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels would bring me to Perch, and that it would result in stirring up of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew did not even exist. The question was – would I survive the trial?


'that I had discovered in the few weeks', 'and that they would result in the stirring up'


“She would surely die,” the voice in my head had claimed. And for all I knew, ‘Joneleth’ would have preferred it this way. Adalon knew him, or at least she knew of him. Would she recognize me as him – I wondered. Would I live through the encounter if she did? There were no clear answers to these questions, and the best course of action would have been to ignore the silver dragon’s existence, and to get away from that place as soon as possible. Yet, I hesitated. The temptation was too great. What if she knew some vital facts about me that the water elemental either refused to relay, or simply could not see? And what if Aluril had lied to me from the start, and I was not responsible for the crimes supposedly committed by my former self? Now that was an option I could not dismiss easily. What if someone was deliberately setting me on the wrong course?


If Adalon does recognise Jon, he's going to have to do some very quick talking in order to avoid her wrath.

Adalon was a test; a whetstone to sharpen my resolve and set aside the last grain of doubt that was still lingering in my heart. At worst, she was dead already, and could not answer my questions; at best she was injured and weakened by her enemy. I dismissed the idea that Iryklagathra might be alive and in good health. If he was, he would have emerged to finish the village already. Most likely one or both of the dragons were dead, and the winner was in no state to present a serious threat. That last argument was a shaky one; if the surviving reptile was still able to breath, he (or she) was still deadly to a 'soft-skinned worm on two legs' . I remembered the dragon’s boasting and cringed.


'breathe'

They really need to find out what's going on quick - if Sharpfangs is still alive but badly hurt, they need to do somethnig about him before he recovers and becomes a threat to the village again. And if he's dead, then there's no need for them to stay hiding in the tunnels anyway.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”


Heh, I'd say his new personality is just as arrogant as the old really.

“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”


That was a great speech - I can almost hear irenicus's voice when I read it.

“Jon-Jon, are you alright?” Mirri’s voice was frail and distant, like chime of a china cup hitting the stone pavement.


'like the chime'

I raised my hand and gently pried the tormented plait away from her fingers. She looked at me with an expression of a puppy deprived of its favorite rag doll, but let go. It felt heavy and slightly warm in my palm, and I dropped it as fast as it was a poisonous snake. The conversation was turning slightly insane, I noted with resignation. But at least it bought me some time to recover my wits. And I was not about to tell her that the greatest danger that she faced in these caves was not from a stray kobold or a gibbering.


'as if it was a poisonous snake'

“Everything is pretty much done,” Mirri said without much enthusiasm. “It was not like they could not manage on their own... But I needed time to think the things over. You don’t have to explain everything to me if you don’t want to!” she blurted out suddenly and blushed. “If you think it was a mistake – just say so. I will not bother you anymore.”


do the sensible thing, Jon, and take this escape route while you still can.

“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”


“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.


I thought she put it very well, myself :)

Yet, I could not help myself - she was so charming in her exasperation that it made me smile instead of provoking my anger. Overall the situation was rather amusing, and it was a good diversion from my other dilemma. Being chased by a young, pretty woman was a much more pleasing occupation than the game that I was currently playing on the other chessboard. “Why would you need to talk about it?” I asked mildly. “It was a pleasant experience for both of us, and I have to admit – I don’t feel sorry in the least. But I am not ready to take it any further, if that is what you are asking. There are certain risks involved for the both sides, and I am not sure that you understand the implications that well.”


What, so jon's actually quite enjoying teasing Mirri now? i guess it's not so embarrassing for him without Omwo there to laugh at him about it.

If Mirri could turn any darker shade of red, I yet had to see that happen. Luckily for her, her natural coloration mostly concealed her embarrassment.


'any darker a shade', 'I had yet'

I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


Hmm - how exactly does Jon know 'the game' himself? I thought he didn't have any memories of that sort of thing. Is this another case of irenicus's memories leeching into his subconsciousness without him realising it?

He's definitely playing a dangerous game here - if she finds out his true feelings later, she might well abandon him then.

'nor in her adolescent psyche'

“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”


Heh, don't push it jon - she's not stupid, and she might realise just how out of character this sort of behaviour is for you.

“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


'never again will I do'

maybe 'ironic' would be a better word than 'humerous' here.

So Jon is coming to care for her in a sense, but just not in the way she wants him to?

Great chapter :roll: . I thought Jon's actions were very much in character - I can certainly see why he wants to keep Mirri on his side, and since asking her for help isn't exactly his style it makes sense that he would try to play on her feelings for him.

The only thing that did seem a bit odd is that he seems to have gone from not really understanding her at all and being almost scared of her emotions to being able to manipulate her perfectly in a very short space of time - is this a side effect of getting closer to Irenicus's personality, or has he just been learning from experience while they've been travelling together?

#13 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 05 August 2003 - 12:30 AM


On the second day of our self-imposed exile into the cold and drafty tunnels of the halflings’ underground refuge, things had settled into a chaotic semblance of a routine, and I was able to walk away from the mess and contemplate my options. Our position with Perch citizens was as precarious as it was uncertain. Technically speaking, it was our arrival and the reckless use of magic that had triggered the dragon attack, and although nobody blamed us openly there were many dark glances and distressed whispers. That our small company was not openly accused of being in league with the dragon should be credited entirely to Olphara’s influence and sensibility. Oddly enough, the venerable Dame Sixthtoe used all her considerable authority to support our case, and it was due to her quiet but persistent diplomacy that we were cleared of any suspicion, and allowed to roam free through the caverns. (I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)


'our position with the Perch citizens'


thnx!

Hmm, so Jonny and co aren't exactly flavour of the month, then. What's ahppened to kessen and the pony, by the way? Have they been left outside for the dragon to eat?


It is too bad, since technically he saved the day by delaying the Big Bad Blue with his spell and advising Omwo on the wish spell ...
And Kes was there - remember? He came specially for the performance. Also I sort of imply that the caves are next to the goats' pasture.


Since the entrance to the hidden sanctuary was located at the bottom of the cliff next to the goat corral and the goatherd’s sheds, Kessen was even able to get to our pony and, most importantly, to her saddlebags, which to his utter astonishment turned out to be undisturbed. I have to confess - it was a great relief, although it still did not solve our problem of getting out of the Marching Mountains alive, and with our treasure intact. And it sounded like it had become even trickier task than it was before.
After a day and a night of chaos and desperation, the halflings finished counting their losses. They were luckier than I estimated at first, since Adalon’s timely intervention had limited the number of the actual casualties to a half a dozen or so, but there were wounded, and many of the injured had suffered from electrical burns that were not easy to treat under any normal circumstances, and that without proper medications were threatening to become inflamed in the damp and stifling air of the underground caverns.


Ah good, so they still have the treasure.


Would not deprive them of it - they will need it.

'become an even trickier task than it was before'


nod

The 'I have to confess' line sounds a bit out of place to me for some reason - I find it hard to imagine jon using that turn of phrase.


Hmm, maybe. He will never be polite, even in writing. I have to 'admit'?



Master Derk looked like he had aged a decade over that short period of time. The wise man had used all of his divine prayers on the most grievously hurt, and the small supply of medicines that he had taken down with him during the hasty flight from Perch was running short. Now he haunted the dusty caves like a small gray specter of his former self, listening to the cries of burned children, and looking frailer and more desperate with every passing hour. It was rather melodramatic, I thought with irritation. What he really ought to do instead of this senseless wandering was to go to his bedroll and sleep, praying that Arvoreen would grant him more favors tomorrow.


Guess that would be sensible, but not everyone sees things in such a logical, dispassionate way as Jon.


Ah - yes! I am glad he sounds 'right' though.


For that matter, Omwo’s behavior was equally ridiculous, if not more so. It turned out that he had studied the rare and dangerous art of mind-affecting chants and harmonies. (A peculiar skill for an actor, but useful in a traveling companion.) I already knew he was accomplished in its harmful application – the very memory of the ghastly tune that he had played in the Naga’s cavern still made me shiver. It had never occurred to me though that he was also talented in the reverse process of soothing the spirit. After we had arrived in the caves, he spent hours playing and chanting the rhythmic healing and comforting mantras in the huge cavern that was selected for the children’s infirmary, employing a small wooden flute and occasionally adding a small drum to accentuate the reverberating, dreamy melody. Eventually, he had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion and stress, and had to be carried away to his bedroll. I only shrugged at this overzealous display of his therapeutic talents, since now his own condition was so bad that it was impossible for us to leave unobtrusively, even if the opportunity presented itself.


Doubt Omwo would agree to leave even if he was able though - he'd want to stay and help the other halflings.


Omwo is chaotic, but he is a good fellow at heart , despite his ahem 'lack of manners'.


The twins were equally busy, helping clear the mess and moving the wounded and the supplies, although I noticed that Kessen did not show much enthusiasm in proffering his help, and reasonably occupied himself with care for our own equipment and the mount. But Mirriam only checked on her precious pony once, and after that effectively attached herself to the halfling matron. She was scuffling to and fro on Olphara’s errands helping to organize things, and distribute the provisions, and generally ignoring my existence. I was not particularly unhappy with this arrangement – it kept her off my back, at least for now. There was not a single chance that she might eventually forget about my promise to talk the things over between the two of us, and the very thought of having this conversation made me feel itchy and upset. The last thing I wanted was another public display of devotion or of vengeful spite. On the other hand, losing the girl’s affection was not part of my plan, at least not until we have reached Darromar. So, I took to meandering around the caves, doing a little exploration on my own, and generally trying to keep out of everybody’s way.


So Jon's going to keep encouraging Mirri because he can make use of the fact that she cares for him? Hope he's prepared to put up with a few more embarrassing moments along the way, then.


I won't bet on it - there will be tantrums, oh yeah! 'I cannot be caged'

'at least not until we reached darromar'


not sure 'scuffling' is the right word - maybe you meant 'scuttling'?


Mmm

scuf·fle
intr.v. scuf·fled, scuf·fling, scuf·fles
To fight or struggle confusedly at close quarters.
To shuffle.
To move about from place to place; shift: shuffled around looking for work.

scut·tle3
intr.v. scut·tled, scut·tling, scut·tles
To run or move with short hurried movements; scurry

I need to think about it. :)



The caverns system in question looked nothing like the stone-paved corridors under Zaureen’s temple, or the smoothly polished tunnels further down, created by joint effort of the earthquakes and the seasonal floods. The hills in the great desert were part of the Marching Mountains ridge, but the structure and the geological origin of this network of caves was different. Our current habitat was a result of long, tedious work done by running water dribbling through the weaker layers of calcite and clay, which permeated the harder stratum of red granite, rather like filling in a cake.


'cavern system', 'created by a joint effort from the earthquakes and the seasonal floods'


nods


The result was a rather elaborate and often impassable labyrinth of cavities connected by narrow passages, that spread in three dimensions inside the mountains, and had no beginning and no end, at least as far as I could see. There were halls where the walls were seeping water, that ran in slow rivulets, forming fringes of elaborate, fragile-looking stalactites, and rooms filled to the brink with stone fragments, narrow crevices full of oozing mud and bat guano, and others dry enough to offer some habitable space. It was very probable that some of these caves were connected with the dragon’s lair above at some point, but most likely the path was too narrow to allow direct communication between the two systems. At least the halflings showed no fear of the possible invasion from that direction, and I assumed we were safe on that account.


no comma needed after 'narrow passages'


ah!

They're not going to be able to hide in the passages forever though - sooner or later someone's going to have to go outside and see if the dragon's still there or not.

yes - unless they will decide to move to a totally new place ...


And that was the main topic that occupied my mind during my visibly futile wondering in the stone labyrinth – the dragon dilemma. As I passed from crevice to crevice, moving the faintly gloving sphere of magic light upwards to illuminate another mineralogical curiosity or a bat-infested shelf (the latter would cause a wave of panic among the senseless critters, sending them in all directions and filling the shadows with rustle and flutter of parchment wings), my mind kept ticking, inventing new reasons not to go and rejecting them as fast as it could generate the counterarguments to my own devices. I knew I had to get inside the dragon’s lair, and find out what happened to Adalon since I would never be able to forgive myself if I let the issue drop and yet, I could not master the courage needed for the deed.


typo: 'glowing'


Not sure Jon would say 'critters' - I'd expect him to use rather more scientific language :D


like :
nocturnal flying mammals of the order Chiroptera? :)

Maybe 'senseless critters' is fine since it is a snide remark?

'with the rustle and flutter'


comma after 'and yet' should be moved to after 'drop'.


ah!

should probably be 'muster the courage' not 'master the courage'


I like the description of how his mind's working here.


:roll:


The silver dragon was a link to my past. The first one that I discovered in a few weeks since my second awakening at the elemental pool, and the only one that was not offered to me by a meddling hand of some unknown ‘benevolent’ power. I was positive that Adalon’s appearance was not pre-arranged, since nobody could have anticipated that my travels would bring me to Perch, and that it would result in stirring up of its ancient terror. It was a random chance thrown onto my path by the play of fate, and I would be a fool to miss the opportunity to learn more about my past before starting on a long and dangerous quest to the other side of the world, to save the city for which I did not care, and that for all I knew did not even exist. The question was – would I survive the trial?


'that I had discovered in the few weeks', 'and that they would result in the stirring up'


thnx!


“She would surely die,” the voice in my head had claimed. And for all I knew, ‘Joneleth’ would have preferred it this way. Adalon knew him, or at least she knew of him. Would she recognize me as him – I wondered. Would I live through the encounter if she did? There were no clear answers to these questions, and the best course of action would have been to ignore the silver dragon’s existence, and to get away from that place as soon as possible. Yet, I hesitated. The temptation was too great. What if she knew some vital facts about me that the water elemental either refused to relay, or simply could not see? And what if Aluril had lied to me from the start, and I was not responsible for the crimes supposedly committed by my former self? Now that was an option I could not dismiss easily. What if someone was deliberately setting me on the wrong course?


If Adalon does recognise Jon, he's going to have to do some very quick talking in order to avoid her wrath.


he better! :evil:


Adalon was a test; a whetstone to sharpen my resolve and set aside the last grain of doubt that was still lingering in my heart. At worst, she was dead already, and could not answer my questions; at best she was injured and weakened by her enemy. I dismissed the idea that Iryklagathra might be alive and in good health. If he was, he would have emerged to finish the village already. Most likely one or both of the dragons were dead, and the winner was in no state to present a serious threat. That last argument was a shaky one; if the surviving reptile was still able to breath, he (or she) was still deadly to a 'soft-skinned worm on two legs' . I remembered the dragon’s boasting and cringed.


'breathe'


They really need to find out what's going on quick - if Sharpfangs is still alive but badly hurt, they need to do somethnig about him before he recovers and becomes a threat to the village again. And if he's dead, then there's no need for them to stay hiding in the tunnels anyway.


That is true - he needs to act now.


“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”


Heh, I'd say his new personality is just as arrogant as the old really.


Good! That was what I was after. :(


“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”


That was a great speech - I can almost hear Irenicus's voice when I read it.


I guess I had a lot of practice writing his speeches...


“Jon-Jon, are you alright?” Mirri’s voice was frail and distant, like chime of a china cup hitting the stone pavement.


'like the chime'


thnx!


I raised my hand and gently pried the tormented plait away from her fingers. She looked at me with an expression of a puppy deprived of its favorite rag doll, but let go. It felt heavy and slightly warm in my palm, and I dropped it as fast as it was a poisonous snake. The conversation was turning slightly insane, I noted with resignation. But at least it bought me some time to recover my wits. And I was not about to tell her that the greatest danger that she faced in these caves was not from a stray kobold or a gibbering.


'as if it was a poisonous snake'



“Everything is pretty much done,” Mirri said without much enthusiasm. “It was not like they could not manage on their own... But I needed time to think the things over. You don’t have to explain everything to me if you don’t want to!” she blurted out suddenly and blushed. “If you think it was a mistake – just say so. I will not bother you anymore.”


do the sensible thing, Jon, and take this escape route while you still can.


Like he ever will...


“You bloody well understand what I am talking about!” She snapped viciously. “Stop playing me for a half-wit that cannot comprehend your refined elven ways. You have kissed me on the mouth, and you have held me in your hands like it mattered to you. And then you pretended that it never happened. Now either tell me you that you did not like it at all, or stop behaving like you owe me a thousand golden suns and I am about to send you a collector’s note!”



“You have such an eloquent way with words,” I muttered.


I thought she put it very well, myself :D


:D


Yet, I could not help myself - she was so charming in her exasperation that it made me smile instead of provoking my anger. Overall the situation was rather amusing, and it was a good diversion from my other dilemma. Being chased by a young, pretty woman was a much more pleasing occupation than the game that I was currently playing on the other chessboard. “Why would you need to talk about it?” I asked mildly. “It was a pleasant experience for both of us, and I have to admit – I don’t feel sorry in the least. But I am not ready to take it any further, if that is what you are asking. There are certain risks involved for the both sides, and I am not sure that you understand the implications that well.”


What, so jon's actually quite enjoying teasing Mirri now? i guess it's not so embarrassing for him without Omwo there to laugh at him about it.


I would think every man enjoys his ego being tickled the right way - I have had a lot of practice in this particular exercise.


If Mirri could turn any darker shade of red, I yet had to see that happen. Luckily for her, her natural coloration mostly concealed her embarrassment.


'any darker a shade', 'I had yet'



I had to bite my lips to stifle a chuckle. It would have been most inappropriate at the circumstances. So, I was right – she was a maiden. I was walking a dangerous edge by playing with her feelings, but strangely enough, it made the excitement all the greater. A bittersweet prize – the soul and body yet unskilled at the eternal game of momentary pursuit and graceful surrender. Was the fleeting pleasure of teaching her the game worth the inevitable ache of the severance? Perhaps. But it was really beyond the point. I was not much interested in her alluring although slightly immature curves, nether in her adolescent psyche. But her loyalty was an undeniable asset, and her devotion to me was my only assurance of her brother’s fidelity. The exact words of the water weird’s prophesy flashed briefly in my mind – “without them you would surely die.”


Hmm - how exactly does Jon know 'the game' himself? I thought he didn't have any memories of that sort of thing. Is this another case of irenicus's memories leeching into his subconsciousness without him realising it?


Lol! I have to imply he remembers something subconsciously. Since I make the rules of the game - I make assumption he is not that innocent after all. Yes - but it is rather Joneleth's memories. Remember - there are three of them in this head, not just two: Jon-Jon, Joneleth and Irenicus.

He's definitely playing a dangerous game here - if she finds out his true feelings later, she might well abandon him then.


Oh - she will. But Jon is a sly one, despite his 'not remembering' I will try to pull out Joneleth and Irenicus separately, although it maybe a mess ...

'nor in her adolescent psyche'


“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”


Heh, don't push it jon - she's not stupid, and she might realise just how out of character this sort of behaviour is for you.


:)


“Let’s go back to the camp now, shall we?” I offered lightly. “And I promise, never again I will do anything that might hurt you, if I can help it.” The humorous part was – this time I actually meant it.


'never again will I do'


maybe 'ironic' would be a better word than 'humerous' here.


Good one!

So Jon is coming to care for her in a sense, but just not in the way she wants him to?


He is playing games with everybody - including himself.

Great chapter :( . I thought Jon's actions were very much in character - I can certainly see why he wants to keep Mirri on his side, and since asking her for help isn't exactly his style it makes sense that he would try to play on her feelings for him.


Ah, I thought so. Glad it worked. I was feeling - he was getting too 'nice'.

The only thing that did seem a bit odd is that he seems to have gone from not really understanding her at all and being almost scared of her emotions to being able to manipulate her perfectly in a very short space of time - is this a side effect of getting closer to Irenicus's personality, or has he just been learning from experience while they've been travelling together?


Welll well. I imply that Jon-Jon is deliberately being blind to certain things even when he realises what her behavior signifies. So far he is only 'smart' when it comes to denying his own newly acquired emotions. He wiggles out of it most efficiently by lying blatantly to himself, us and everybody else. When he was confronted with the truth - ie when she kissed him on public, he cannot pretend she does not feel anything anymore and finds another excuse - I don't feel anything for her but I want to manipulate her. So, it is a game, in a game, in a game for him and he is fooling nobody but himself. And he is mortally afraid to confirm that he is 'unable to perform' on top of it.

I wonder if it makes any sense? Hope so!


Thanks for reading and commenting!

#14 Arcalian

Posted 05 August 2003 - 01:58 AM

Dorotea Dorotea Dorotea fiagaro, magnifico-o-o-o!

In this part Jon is not exactly a paragon of sincerety ... but I felt he was getting 'too nice' and as it is not really my intent to white-wash him I had to get realistic about his inner motives. I hope it come out 'in character'. As always any comments, corections, typos, etc are greatly appreciated!


Well he wasn't an utter bastard either. A bit cold, and a bit manipulative, but not as bad as this warning made me fear.

(I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)


This sounds wrong; move the comma to after the word "blame". Perhaps even change it to a semicolon.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”


“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”


“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”


“You wish.”


I now see why Bhodi's temptation is/will be so frightening. Irenicus is still in there, ready to work with her.

“You should understand my situation better than anybody else,” I said taking her hand in mine and carefully picking the words. Now, if I could remember anything at all about women, this should entice her better than any vows of undying love. “You have spoken with Chyil, did you not? I recall almost nothing of my past. And for all we know I may be a dangerous criminal, or a haunted refugee. Don’t you see how risky it might be to link yourself with me?”


“But, Jon-Jon, I ...”


“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”


To be honest, all through that little speech I half expected her sense of humor to rebel against the cheap melodrama of that last sentence. But I should not have worried – the desire for a romance would always prevail over common sense in the most devious female mind.


Roll eyes. But actually he is right here, if for the wrong reasons. He is not ready yet, and she should get to know him better before throwing herself at him. And as he doesn't truly know himself yet (and the clues his inner voice just gave him are not at all reassuring), that will take a while.
The road to the abyss may be paved with good intentions, but it is those with bad intentions that race down that road as fast as they can.

#15 Guest_Dorotea_*

Posted 05 August 2003 - 04:15 AM

Dorotea Dorotea Dorotea fiagaro, magnifico-o-o-o!


Here I am. :roll:

In this part Jon is not exactly a paragon of sincerety ... but I felt he was getting 'too nice' and as it is not really my intent to white-wash him I had to get realistic about his inner motives. I hope it come out 'in character'. As always any comments, corections, typos, etc are greatly appreciated!


Well he wasn't an utter bastard either. A bit cold, and a bit manipulative, but not as bad as this warning made me fear.


No, I did not drag him out of the Abyss to let him screw up all over again -but there are going to be a few pretty bad things.


(I suppose, the halfling matron felt that she should share part of the blame because the magic show was her pet idea.)


This sounds wrong; move the comma to after the word "blame". Perhaps even change it to a semicolon.


Fair enough - I will edit it on the website indeed.


“Let’s get one thing clear,” I thought passionately. “You are not taking me over. Not just yet. Damn you for an arrogant fool! I have no reason to trust you that you are real. Either speak out or get away from me!”



“Will you ever be ready to listen?” His voice rang with cold, mocking disdain. “Or are you going to spend the rest of your pitiful life crawling through the shattered remains of your vanquished pride like a maggot through the pile of refuse? ‘She’ would be delighted to see you diminished to this. That is how ‘she’ always wanted it, don’t you think? Do as you please - I will leave you to your miserable contemplations, worm.”



“Wait, wait! Don’t go yet. Who is ‘she’ - Adalon? It must be her,” I cried out in near frenzy of my fervor. “It cannot be anybody else but her!”



“You wish.”


I now see why Bhodi's temptation is/will be so frightening. Irenicus is still in there, ready to work with her.


Oh yes. Sniff. It is a bit crowded in that head now.


“You should understand my situation better than anybody else,” I said taking her hand in mine and carefully picking the words. Now, if I could remember anything at all about women, this should entice her better than any vows of undying love. “You have spoken with Chyil, did you not? I recall almost nothing of my past. And for all we know I may be a dangerous criminal, or a haunted refugee. Don’t you see how risky it might be to link yourself with me?”



“But, Jon-Jon, I ...”



“No,” I shook my head, sighing disconsolately, “You are too young to be bound to someone like that. And I am too proud to accept such a sacrifice.”



To be honest, all through that little speech I half expected her sense of humor to rebel against the cheap melodrama of that last sentence. But I should not have worried – the desire for a romance would always prevail over common sense in the most devious female mind.


Roll eyes. But actually he is right here, if for the wrong reasons. He is not ready yet, and she should get to know him better before throwing herself at him. And as he doesn't truly know himself yet (and the clues his inner voice just gave him are not at all reassuring), that will take a while.


Heh. That was what I was after actually - a lot of little lies and manipulations, but underneath it all he does care, in a weird way. Soul is something that makes it work.

Thanks for commenting!




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