[Laoshan Falls] The Bitter Wind of Melora (Fidelis, Gossamer)

Titus Crow · July 7, 2008, 08:04 PM

Location-

Secrets :

Melora, Winter, XV

A hunched figure figure walked through crisp winter night with only a tall walking stick to lean upon. Each step hurt, each step was a reminder of his own failing body, his weakening muscles, his deep wrinkles that graced him with enough wisdom to know that his days were numbered. Months of conflict, injury and hardship had worn the human down. Once a champion, he walked defeated by nothing more than time.

He was a child of Aslan and beholden to laws honest and true. Jorel's warriors stayed unnaturally healthy, but not the flock of the righteous. They were bound to mortality, only their souls could continue on. When the time was right the Warrior-Priests of Aslan took their final Holy Walk and found an honorable end. They would soon be reborn and continue their fight. Their final quest had to be noble and true otherwise their promise to Aslan would dissipate and their souls would turn into dust.

He had sent his challenge. A knifed goblin with Laoshan Falls, two darkenings written on a note pinned to his back. Titus left it in a place where Fidelis Meridus would see it. He had hounded the Wolf of Jorel and his Thorn for a few months now. Titus tried to provoke the dark swordsman without fear. It was time to shed this vessel, time to start anew.

Titus dressed in a white robe and carried little. A sword at his waist, a long pole in his hand, memories in his head, a sense of foreboding in his heart.

The air turned cool, he was near. The current goat of Jorel, the dog that licked the feet of the false god.

"ASLAN!" Titus bellowed in the air, disturbing the nearby fae. His raised his hands to the heavens. "Aslan bless me... Deliver me to the next life strong enough to defeat your enemies." He fell to his knees and cried in his hands. All at once images almost drowned him in a flood of emotions. Everything, his childhood, his adoptive father, his old shop. What had happened? And Viskyia, his daughter, his family, the one who thought he had a sense of humor. Would he see her on the other side? Would they remember each other? True strength lays in having something to lose and fighting like hell for it. His father had told him a long time ago the first time he had met the old jeweler and monk.

His purpose of being, his crusade rejuvenated his muscles for one final fight...

Fidelis Meridius · July 8, 2008, 05:27 PM

Elsewhere in the empire...

Wrapped in a navy robe, a figure stood before the message laid before him. His emerald eyes flickered from left to right as he read the message. Under several stray tresses of platinum hair, the man's brow furrowed; indicating the churning of his mental cogs. The message raised many questions, and very few answers as he turned to the young priestess next to him.

"Prepare Blackwind. I leave within the candlemark." He commanded without question. The young woman nodded and backed away before hurrying of to do as she was told. The man then turned away from the goblin corpse, and headed for his private chambers.

A few brief moments later, he found himself dressed and armed, hands perched on a stone railing as he leaned against the balcony that overlooked a good portion of the Prime province. His countenance displayed little emotion as his stoic gaze watched the binary system of Telath rise over the distant horizon. It was obvious that the Wolf of Jorel had thoughts weighing heavily on his mind.

"Was it a trap?"

"Who could have sent the message?"

His mind echoed with riddles that could only be solved by answering the call. But answer he would. Once he did, whomever sent such a challenge would wish they never had...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Darkenings later...

Over the Centripax they had travelled, and above the skies of Lauryl they soared as the onyx pegasus carried Wolf and Thorn into the outlands. Fidelis keenly observed the landscape below as he searched for the location the message specified.

The falls was not an easy place to locate, especially with it's proximity to the Forest of Dreams. But finally, on the distant horizon, it had just barely come within view as the falls sparkled lightly in the moonlight. Looking over his right shoulder, the warrior's visage came nearly into contact with Havina's. "Be ready to take the reigns. You will keep Blackwind in the skies... But do not act unless you have no other choice. I will deal with the matter."

Suddenly the Dark Knight pulled on the reigns, signaling the wing beast to descend as the trio accelerated towards the earth. With blazing speed they fell from the skyline. Just as the trees gave away, Fidelis spotted the lone figure. With a smirk he proceeded.

Bringing the pegasus just feet from the ground, the warrior through himself from the saddle. Hitting the ground, the swordsman rolled to his feet just paces away from the man. The pegasus and Oracle quickly retreated into the night sky after. In one fluid motion, he had already produced the deadly ardentium swords from their scabbards. The deadly pair glinted a dangerous hue as they collected the sparse light about the landscape. Locking his eyes onto his target, the Wolf of Jorel found himself in front of a dead man... or so he thought.

"You!" His tone was laced with anger and malice, though his soul held none, and he felt no such emotion. "I slayed you in Arium! You are the one that has brought me here?" The Wolf waited for a response before he continued.

"Very well, you have tasted my wrath once before... Now I am stronger than ever. Prepare yourself, for you are going to taste defeat once more... But this time you will die!" The warrior issued his intent as he stepped forward, closing the gap with blinding speed. Raising his left blade, he feigned a downward slash at his foe's shoulder, only to slice across his mid-section with the other as the battle between good and evil commenced once more!

Titus Crow · July 9, 2008, 01:59 AM

"Leave it do the dog of Jorel to leave a job half finished!" Titus taunted and pulled back his white hood. His head was freshly shaved but wore a full, bushy gray beard. He pointed to Fidelis with his heavy hardwood staff. "I invited you here so we can settle accounts. Once and for all."

He shrugged off his robe and for that long moment of silence before Fidelis spoke Titus took a passionate breath. He felt truly alive, his nerves tingled, he was one with Telath. Muscles twitched in anticiption. The scent of winter filled his nostrils. A slight breeze kissed his cheek.

So arrogant, He considered Fidelis in the next brief moment as the dark swordsman replied. No matter how much he kills, he will always be empty, never satisfied, he will never win his war. I almost feel sorry for him...

...almost...

"Eat some wood you goat!" Titus jeered and tossed his staff as a spear at Fidelis' head as the dark knight charged. Maybe not the most elegant play, but what the heck, Titus was actually having fun for the first time in a long time. His sword was drawn in a fluid motion and Titus held hid Katana in the ready position. He would defend himself and attempt to parry Fidelis' attack with his blade. Once that was accomplished he would let loose with a couple probing swipes at Fidelis' face.

Gossamer · July 20, 2008, 12:04 PM

Havina watched this all with amusement. The summons wasn't exactly something she had expected, nor was the way Fidelis reacted to it. He knew the monk, evidently, and had some sort of history with him. Havina kept the black pegasus circling. It would have done so anyhow, truth be told, for it was loyal and mostly ignored her presence because to do so pleased its master. She obeyed her Wolf, though that didn't keep her from overlooking the situation quite clearly. She studied Titus as the two men faced off, and realized the situation quite clearly. He was a warrior monk of Aslan. Bile filled her throat, worry, and then laughter. In his prime, he might have been a match for Fidelis, but in the here and now he was nothing. He wanted to end his existence honorably so that Aslan would grant him another shot at rebirth, coming back to fight another day. She knew of them, and once had studied them in depth as one had been the reason for her own Father's death.

Havina was torn. Reluctant to let Fidelis face him and cut him down only to have him reemerge somewhere else some other place and time... she decided to forewarn the wolf and give him a choice. She touched a silver ring on her finger, a ring of whispers, and sent her thoughts deep into Fidelis' mind. This only worked well with a bonded pair, and although Fidelis was strong-minded and stubborn, he had to some degree accepted her presence within his life.

"My Lord, he is a follower of Aslan, a warrior monk, either red moon or white crane I'd imagine. If you kill him, he will only return again and again. In fact, looking at him, I'd say he's using you to set him on his pathway back to Aslan, for he's a tired broken man. If you do kill him, he dies with honor in the eyes of his people, and will return someday to harrass us once more. Not perhaps you or I, but perhaps our children or their children's children." Havina said firmly. This wasn't so much as a dialog in Fidelis' mind, it was more of a gentle mantle of information that settled over his mind all at once.

"He has little skill, and even his body is broken. But we could use him nonetheless. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and you might need all the tools you can get to complete the missions Jorel has charged of you. Capture him alive and I can strip his memories and give him a more workable form. A child perhaps or a young adult... someone you can use like a tool, and discard when you have no more need of him." Havina said into his mind, in that sweet razor sharp voice that was more cunning than style. He could tell she wanted the monk as a toy, and while perhaps he had no use for such a thing, the benefits could far outweigh the costs.

Titus threw his staff, which Fidelis knocked to one side with a double swipe of the flats of his blades... almost like a man batting away a mosquito. Then he was upon Titus, succeeded in the shoulder feint, and then elegantly opened a single slice across the old man's belly. it wasn't deep, but it did bite him well into his flesh, drawing first blood of the battle.

Fidelis Meridius · July 26, 2008, 07:37 PM

Mid-charge, Havina laced the Wolf's mind with her own thoughts. Time seemed to slow as he moved toward the monk, batting the staff away with a snarl as he propelled himself forward. All the while, his mind thrashed thoughts about like a storm. Killing had always been his business, and never had he let an Aslanite live once he crossed blades with them.

...But this was different. Boot by boot struck the ground as the gap was closed further, and without hesitation a new plan had already begun to take shape. It was simple: If he was as weak as the Oracle suggested, then all he needed to do was disarm him, and purge the will to resist with any pains necessary.

Faking his first attack, the warrior's blade sailed through cloth and flesh as it cut across his enemy. Turning through his attack, the swordsman had already carried his body into the next attack. Bringing the sword over his shoulder as he twisted about, the warrior aimed to strike the katana away from Titus' body, only to be followed with a swipe from the other, seeking to sever his arm and hand.

"You may shed this body here, but your soul is mine!" The Wolf of Jorel howled at his enemy. "Your heroism with be forgotten in the sands of time, and you will become the very scourge you hate!"

Titus Crow · July 26, 2008, 08:32 PM

Titus' figure stiffened as he stoically took Fidelis' slash. The older gentleman drew another chilled breath from in between his bared teeth. His stomach felt wet, his blood meshed with his woolen robe. At times like this one would find each second an eternity but not for Titus. His mind was blank, his soul indefeatable, and his eyes clear.

The second passed quickly and all Titus could think was, there's never enough time, is there? His time here on Telath was coming to an end with haste, there was not the time to go over childhood stories.

Fidelis' fury was countered by Titus' calm. A small smile creeped upon his lips as he countered Fidelis not by parrying, dodging, or fleeing but by moving in for his last and perhaps only parting shot.

Katana and monk leaned into the dark warrior, a missle on its final mission. His body exposed, he put up no defense. Titus only struck at Fidelis' heart with the tip of his blade. Every last bit of strength he had left, every tear he had shed in sorrow, every friend he had lost, everything he stood for went into this strike.

"Empty promises dog of Jorel!" He retorted. "I am not a vain lap dog of a false, hypocritical god looking for approval! Heroism is not meant to be remembered. Virtue is its own reward and the righteous never tread alone! Aslan!"

Gossamer · August 13, 2008, 08:53 PM

They both fought one another, both formed plans, and both were hardened by battle. Fidelis was distracted, in part by his Thorns knowledge.... he'd need to stress that later for a warrior should never be distracted in battle. And although the woman was wise, she had no practical experience in real battle with the Wolf. That much would have to change. And so it was that as Fidelis circled the old man, weapons came up, rage met calm, and two swordsman danced in the last dance they would ever have together. It was a thing of beauty, though no one save a Thorn and Pegasus oversaw the epic unfolding.

Metal gleamed in the light, already wet with blood as Titus lunged forward. His blade dipped deep into Fidelis' flesh above his heart and there was a flash of bright light. An odd sensation filled the Wolf of Jorel as he brought his sword around in perfect form and separated Titus' katana wielding arm from his body. Blood sprayed the Wolf and stained the old man's robes red. For Titus, there was a lack of sensation... no pain, no regret... his Pathway opened up before him even as the heavily muscled and corded arm slammed into the ground in seemingly slow motion, bouncing once, then twice... the fist never letting go of the great crane-hilted katana.

In the air, Havina let loose one of her finest most creative spells... soul net... and cast it up and over the battlefield even as Titus' words echoed Fidelis'. She would do her Wolf's bidding, though it had been at her urging. The decision was Fidelis' and they would twist The White Crane as they could... however they could even as he died. Thirty years difference separated the men, and perhaps had they lived closer in the same time, the battle scene would have been drastically different. But as it was, Kalendryas' influence gave them no equality as time separated them in more than age.

Fidelis promised to end the endless road for Titus, even as Titus raised his voice for Aslan. It might have been that they were too close to Zinn'Sunn... for the name held no meaning there. Torek ruled, as he was called by the Zinn'Sunnese... and regardless, he stood by and did nothing as the Thorn and Wolf wrought their terrible work.

Fidelis would have an easy time... his choice in fact, freeing Titus of his last bonds while Havina's careful net waited to capture the soul before it could escape beyond. She'd hold it with her magic until they could replace it in a vessel of their choosing.... Fidelis would be advised and she'd take his careful instructions. The enemy would be brought down, interrupted, and corrupted.

Sometimes evil had a good day.

Titus Crow · August 16, 2008, 02:16 PM

Titus fell to his knees, defeated in this last battle. He was serene, a calm pond on a warm sunny day. His vision began to blur and his head slowly swiveled right. He observed in a detached fashion his own amputated arm with something akin to scientific curiousity. Oh, well, that's strange...no pain... He thought to himself.

He looked up and saw the large, dark swordsman looming over him. No doubt it was going to end now, end quickly. Evil would be the temporary winner this darkening, but Titus still had his faith. After all he had been through and all he had lost, his inner belief remained strong and true. This was not over, not over by a long shot.

And a bit of bitterness nipped at Titus' mind. Where was his god now? Why had he left him so alone? Where was the thanks for multiple generations of devoted service. He sure could use a lightening bolt or a well timed arrival of reinforcements. But there was none left, he was alone. His reward would be rebirth, another attempt to finish the battle of the war that would never end. Another failure. To crusade is to ultimately fail, and Titus had failed so much- from fatherhood to happiness Titus was always searching to no avail.

The dark thoughts vanished as he closed his eyes and washed away the hurt with prayers. He had lived quite a life, hadn't he? The images of life flashed before his eyes- his master, his brothers, the battle in Arium, Viskyia, Furloin, the shop in Nexus Prime, his childhood of slavery, his escape, his birthbrightening party, and now his death. A deep breath left his lungs as his face tilted towards the stars and awaited deliverance from his current battered vessel. He swayed a little, weakened from blood loss.

No pain... He thought again as his eyes opened for the last time.

"Be done with it you dog! But know that no matter how much you kill, how many people die- you will never be fulfilled and you will always be empty inside." Titus spit in Fidelis' face for his final defiance.

Fidelis Meridius · August 18, 2008, 02:16 PM

The Jorelite fought with the intensity of a tempest. His blades surged like like a violent wind as he attacked his foe again, all the while, his mind was calm and controlled... finally the man was becoming a complete warrior. He was no longer blinded by rage and propelled by his desire for vengeance. Instead, he had found focus, and in that focus, the clarity to see beyond the tip of his blades and into the future. His life had become a losing battle against the honor-bound horde, but the tides would soon turn and ultimately he would win the unholy war which he bleed for.

There was a slight tinge against his armor before the monk's katana pierced it biting into flesh and torso of the dual wielder. The sensation was surreal as it nearly sucked the energy from the warrior's body mid-attack. Titus had just missed the warrior's black heart; his life was but milimeters from its end. Yet his attack was executed flawlessly.

In a crimson mist, droplets of blood splattered against both men's forms as the gladius sliced cleanly through the blade-wielding arm of the White Crane. In a sickening thud and then a gentle clang, the severed appendage fell to the ground below. Taking a step forward, the wounded Wolf of Jorel looked down upon his fallen enemy as his shoulders heaved up in down displaying the pain of his injury.

A dry smile crossed the viage of the swordsman as Titus showed the same defiance most of his victims had over the eras. "Where is your god now?" The Dark Knight mocked. "What has your service to him gotten you? Aslan has forsaken you! Can you not see it? Here you will die, cold and alone. No friends or family to comfort you as you drift to the gates of Sonos. There will be no one to herald you as a hero as your soul leaves this plane... There is only dispair... If not your own, then that of the one's you love..."

Fidelis then reached up wiping the saliva from his check. His smile quickly faded and his countenance carried a new form of seriousness. "Even in death, you will find no peace. Your soul will become the thing you have fought against all your life... Breath deeply and enjoy the last breathe of freedom you will ever taste." As the warrior's words escaped his lips, he dipped his blade low, swiping it horizontally across the monk's neck; aimed at severing his head and releasing his sould into the Oracle's spell.

Gossamer · August 20, 2008, 02:32 PM

The blade cleaved the air, a true thing of beauty. It arched perfectly, and in Titus Crow's last minutes, he felt no pain. He didn't even realize the blade had done its careful deadly work. Flesh parted as Fidelis' gaze locked with the Monks. The Wolfs body was in perfect form, muscles bulging, his control absolute. The blade was far less a blade and more an extension of his Will. Titus died, instantly, as his soul surged free from the soft fleshy housing that had kept it safe all those years, and indeed generation upon generation of birth and rebirth.

Havina's net fell precisely in place, scooping up the soul and forming a glass vial around it that manifested into her hands. She laughed in delight, though she was not a cruel woman. There was so much to be said for having a Wolf at one's disposal and watching one as talented and trained as Fidelis work. It made the cumulation of her life's work ever more heady. And as she watched him, something warmed in her even though the glass vessel warmed her hands.... though she ruthlessly pushed it back deep inside. There was no place for that here...

Blackwind landed, unbidden, and the priestess was suddenly caught up with staying mounted though the creature was graceful. She looked at the corpse, carefully beheaded, and chuckled. "It would have made a nice servant if it retained its head... as it is, shall we just leave it to rot?" She asked, gesturing at the glowing vial in her hands. "We have what we want... though we perhaps need to decide what to do with it." She advised.

For Titus, the journey should have been familiar.... back to the Arms of his Lord and Master, back to rest, relaxation, and his ultimate reward. But this journey was different. It was interrupted, and he was snatched from the warmth and comfort that beckoned him. Instead, he was held in glass, confused, and unable to communicate. Later that could change, if Fidelis wished it... but otherwise, he'd remain locked in glass, frozen in time, trapped without a final walk.

As for Havina... she got a slightly charming look on her face as she studied the powerful Wolf. "I do have a suggestion. We should find him a strong young body, someone about ten or twelve, and start training you up an apprentice. He can fight, and has knowledge thats vast, but you could taint him and twist him... making him whatever you want. A fitting tribute to Jorel, I would think." She said, tapping the vile.

Fidelis Meridius · August 31, 2008, 09:59 PM

It one swift motion it was over; in the blink of an eye, Fidelis had brought his foe to an end. He had answered the call without mercy, but on a brightening where the forces of Aetheria seemed to have a hidden trump card, the Jorelite had pulled their own.

As Titus' soul escaped into the great beyond, it no longer found itself free, as the Wolf's Thorn was lying in wait; just waiting to snatch it from state of freedom. They had answered the trickery of the monk, and now he would be made an example of.

Brooding over the scene before him, Fidelis stood motionless above his victim. Power pulsed through the veins of the human as he remained stoic. Closing his eyes but for a glimspe, the Jorelite gave his dark lord a silent offering. As if to say, "This is for you... My glory is yours..."

Turning on his heels as his winged steed plodded to the ground below, Fidelis slung the blood free of his weapons before placing them back within their sheaths. Nodding to Havina, the warrior made a mental note of the situation, "Do not kill by beheading if I want to make a servant of a corpse...".

"Indeed he would have made a fine pet... But I have a better idea..." The warrior smiled as his eyes met that of the Oracle. "We will use is head to send a message. While subtly may be the method of choice for Wolves, it is time this land had something to fear!" Stepping closer to the necromancer the swordsman inspected the vial containing the soul of the White Crane. Once again he nodded in agreement with the woman, "Yes, I believe that would be a fitting tribute for our lord. But for now, let us leave this dog for the vultures..." The warrior spoke of the body as he moved back towards the corpse, and picked up the severed head. Glancing a few paces away, the Jorelite's gaze fell upon the arm that had been cleaved away. "Hmmm..." Fidelis inspected the blade of the fallen man, perhaps it too should be claimed as a prize, and if his soul had the knowledge of its use, then in its future form, it could use it again... but for darker purposes.