Kerisan
02-29-2008, 10:17 PM
((Just a short story here... I might write more stories in the future depending on if people like it! Enjoy!))The sun in East Freeport set with a dazing slowness; everything to stop for a moment as Ro grazed the horizon and clung to the day. Adryia, the brigandine-clad Defiler, gazed into the sky, both eager for and dreading the night. Stars already shimmered above this somewhat-forsaken city – the city of which the leader is an undying lich, where vampires crawl through the woodwork, and wandering minstrels are left begging for coin instead of telling their stories. Truthfully, the Defiler of Drinal couldn’t stand the place, but as she has stated so many times, the words crossed through her mind again. “I do what I must.” As the sun set completely, reluctantly dipping down below the horizon and leaving naught but a faint glowing whisper of its presence, Adryia unbuckled her chain armor and exposed the padding underneath. She brought out a strong cloth bag to place the armor pieces in, and then carefully folded and stacked the armor within it. In another bag was a slender black robe, perfect for her form. She donned it, wrapping it around the underpadding of her armor and nodding silently. Patiently, she waited for the boat to arrive to take her to Sunken City. Of course, this boat only arrived once in a while, and was primarily just to ship adventurers to the City for various tasks that Freeport often put them up to. But, Adryia had a different idea in mind. She made sure her appearance was well-kempt as she stood, fixing the braid in her hair and twirling the fixed curls atop her head with her finger. She could hear the boat coming, but she was not in such a rush. Her feet took her to a close-by merchant to buy some much-needed fresh water for the journey. In the same bag as her pile of armor, she stowed two canteens. “All aboard, adventurers and traders! Ferry to the Sunken City leaves in less than 10 minutes!” The Defiler nodded in thanks to the merchant, slipping him a few coins before slinking off in the direction of the boat. Her bare feet made very little sound against the wooden planks as she awaited the very short ride to the defunct Freeport district to begin. Merchants on the streets had been calling out their end-of-the-day sales, and the clanking of bars closing and the distinct thud of doors shutting and locking could be heard throughout the city. Here, no one left their doors unlocked. assassins crept in every shadow, Brigands waited, deftly cloaked in a shroud of stealth to ransack anything they could get their hands on. As she leaned over the railing of the boat, a small necklace slipped from the hem of her neckline. The gem was a round crystal ball, held fast by a swirl of gold and silver. The crystal was milky white and swirling, and as it became exposed to the world, screams emanated from its depths and un-light circled the sphere. As quickly as she noticed, her hand zipped up and tucked the thing back into her shirt and she stood up straight again. Her hands worked to the bottom of the neckline and buttoned it up one more time, ensuring that such an incident wouldn’t occur again. The same words flashed through her mind as the memories of the lost souls she had enslaved came to her in a cold rush, the prickling of her skin forming into pronounced bumps. “I do what I must.” Finally the boat began its takeoff. The waters beneath rushed and groaned underneath the push of the boat, the molecules protesting but nevertheless conceding to the woods incessant shoving. Adryia watches the fish beneath swirl and dart away, schools of them quickly making their way to the deep ocean where they would hunt for the night. A few minutes passed and before she knew it, the boat was starting to pull itself to a stop. The docks were in view, and the white sheen of fog began to obscure the Shaman’s view of what lied ahead. “Excellent,” she commented to herself, taking in the scene before her. Even now she could smell the herbs in her pocket; amber, anise seed, elder flower, Echinacea, red clover, frankincense and myrrh. With little impatience, she waited for the ferry to come to a full stop before moving. When it finally did, a bell somewhere around the Captain’s Cot rung and she quietly exited, conveniently forgetting to tip the men aboard. She hadn’t time for pleasantries; she was coming here for more than just the hunt or the allure of shining coins. Her feet sunk easily into the chilly waters, a slight shiver crawling up her body as the cold snapped at her bones. But she didn’t seem too bothered; at least, not enough to turn back. It wasn’t long before she was ankle, and then knee-deep in the water, but she kept walking- all the way to the depth of the deepest darkness, bypassing rancid skeletons, zombies, and wandering spirits. A dry patch of land surrounded the holy altar, and the undead that lingered around those parts stayed well away from it, the resounding hum of the divine magic flowing through the stone enough to make their fetid bones crack and shake, their muscles peel, and their ears to ring with pain. Her bag slipped from her arm and landed with a thud on the ground. After a moment of looking around and scoping out the surroundings, she pulled a large vial from her robe pocket as well as three packets of ground herbs, ready for use. She leaned over and dipped the vial into the water, filling it three-quarters of the way. And then came the herbs; one part myrrh, one part elder flower, and two parts frankincense. Her hand shook up and down, causing the herbs to swish in the water and slowly dilute into it, like a tea might. After letting the mixture sit for a while, she plucked the cork from the top and made handy a small bowl. With her fingers, she strained out all of the herbs and let the darkened water fall into the bowl. Then she discarded the herbs into the dirt, burying them under the grime as if in respect for their power. Her hands dipped underneath the water and washed away the sand. She picked up the dainty bowl and poured the liquid back into the vial, standing to face the humming altar with intent. The vial is cupped by both of her hands as she started to chant soft words, half-sung and half-spoken, with a slight melody. “Earth and air, purify to good, blow away the traitorous.” She lifted her hands in the air, both of them still clasped around the bottle full of herbal water. She set the bottle down at the base of the altar and then closed her eyes, whispering an unintelligible blessing before continuing her work. She then pulled a small piece of wood from her pack and a piece of flint. “Air and fire, blow away evil, burn away pain.” Gently and swiftly, she slid the flint against the piece of wood and it lit, a spark of fire bursting up into the air around it. After a moment the flame stabilized, and a small candle-like lick of fire remained as she set it on the ground next to the herb water. “Water and spirit, wash away fear, harbor the innocent.” The Defiler leaned down to the water and filled her palm with the cool liquid, splashing it on the altar. Then, she pulled her screaming necklace from its place and pressed a finger to it, muttering another set of words in an intelligible tone before removing her finger. At the tip of it, a white light snaked from the necklace, and finally pulled out completely. She offered the white light to the altar and with an chortled cry, the spirit-light succumbed to the divine magic of the altar, causing it to glow brightly for a few moments. Her eyes close again and she spun around, doing a complete 360 with her arms spread wide. A soft purple glow coalesced about her form and then faded as more words spilled from her lips. Her body bent in a flourish, but instead of coming back up to complete the formal act of respect, it stayed bent low. “I bid thee part. I consecrate and clear this space. Let nothing but Life linger here.” And with such words, anguish began to build in the Sunken City. Spirits began to crumble under some unseen weight and the skeletons fell straight to the ground, their bones giving way and turning to dust. The zombies simply melted into the ground, their stinking arms grabbing at the ground but to no avail. A greater magic than themselves yanked them from Norrath and quelled their wandering lust. Adryia smiled with a hint of satisfaction, and began to make her way back to the docks.