The Smell of Life

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Cirath
Sojourner
Posts: 517
Joined: Fri Jun 29, 2001 5:01 am

The Smell of Life

Postby Cirath » Thu Jan 13, 2005 2:47 am

The room smelled of death. It smelled familiar. It smelled right.

The one that was Cirath took in the barroom around him, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. The bodies had been properly arranged, the message left. He flexed his right hand, and realized that he was still holding something. Looking down, he gave the large, human heart another squeeze, and dropped it on top of the chest of the man he had torn it from.

There were other changes, since his rebirth. He noticed these differences, knew that they were not a part of his old self. For one thing, he was stronger, much stronger. The man at his feet was almost twice his size, the bouncer of the tavern, a bit overweight, but mostly muscle. He had reached into the man’s chest as though it were pudding, and pulled out the heart with his bare hand. He found that he preferred his bare hands to the knives that hung at his belt, in most cases. They just felt… right.

Another gift had come to him shortly after his awakening. He could smell life, taste it in the air. It drew him like the smell of blood drew scavengers. It was what brought him to this tavern. He had smelled it from across the city, and come to the call. It was a celebration, a wedding. The crowd had been laughing and dancing, singing and drinking when he arrived. Most of them were young and full of life, their smell was the strongest, the sweetest. They were to be the first.

The need pulsed in him, like an appetite whet by the first smells of a grand feast, this slaughter had primed him for the cleansing to come. With each pulse, a vision coalesced in his mind. The memory of his old self had returned, but he had not taken the time to sort through it. Now a name washed to the forefront on those waves of inspiration.

Azourm’tvoril

He remembered the war that was coming, the darkness it would bring if the mortals lost. Faces came sweeping in on subsequent waves. A female knight, stern and commanding. A woman in robes, sad and weary. A green-skinned creature, several minstrels, a dusky elf, a man surrounded by the dead, but still clinging to life, and still others. These mortals fought for life. They stood against the darkness that must swallow the world. Other faces and names came to him as well, servants of this “Vile One,” who sought his revenge on the world.

If the mortals faltered in this war, the lives swept from this world would be innumerable.

He looked over his work, satisfied that all was as it should be. The building smelled clean, but out in the street, deeper in the city, and beyond, the spark of life still burned. He stepped out of the taproom, and into the night.

* * *

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” the captain asked a small, robed man that was examining the wall, where strange symbols were drawn in dried blood. Behind the pair there was the sound of heaving, as one of the guardsmen succumbed to the carnage, and fled to the street to empty his stomach. The bodies had been arranged in some sort of ritualistic fashion. Each corpse looked as though it had been savaged by some sort of wild animal. Their throats or bellies were torn open, heads torn off, limbs missing, and other sorts of mutilation.

The robed figure, a wiry, bookish man with a perfectly bald head stopped scribbling in a thick tome, and turned to meet the captain’s eyes. “I am afraid so. It is an obscure form of Abyssal, not often used, and certainly not on the Prime Material plane.” The man frowned before continuing, looking extremely troubled, “It says ‘Darkness is born to snuff out the light.’”

“What does it mean?” the captain asked

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is something very dangerous is loose in Waterdeep…”
Lilira
Sojourner
Posts: 1438
Joined: Thu Aug 28, 2003 3:53 pm

Postby Lilira » Thu Jan 13, 2005 10:05 pm

I sat at the fountain in the Waterdeep Bazaar, tuning my lyre before starting a song. It had been a while since I had street busked and while there was no need for it, the coins tossed into my hat gave me a glow of satisfaction, reminding me of when I first began my singing. Besides, you heard all kinds of interesting things on the streets. Coins earned would be dropped off at the soup kitchen, simply because my nest egg needed no feathering.

From my perch at the base of the fountain, I watched as a contingent of guards passed by. A couple of them looked as though they had been ill, their faces pale and sweaty. Behind them came a cart covered with a canvas tarp, pulled by a draft horse. The smell of blood assaulted my nose as it went by, causing my stomach to lurch. The bazaar fell silent as everyone turned to watch the cart pass through. Once it left, the buzzing of voices rose like a hive of angry wasps. Under the guise of still tuning my lyre, I tried to focus on different conversations.

“It was Kieri and Tarron’s wedding feast,” a woman who had been following the cart murmured to her friend, who had come rushing to her side, “Noone who was there lived.”

“I heard they were torn apart by a demon some mage released and lost control of,” another added.

“Well I heard it was a drow who turned into a tiger and tore them to shreds,” a youth inserted bloodthirstily.

“Young man,” I interjected, before it could get out of hand.. “While some drow can be a little enthusiastic about killing, why would one go to the trouble to do so in our city? Were the happy couple influential people?”

“Not at all,” the humble matron who had first spoken responded, “She was my cousin. I was unable to attend the feast as my husband was ill.” I looked at her closely, noting her red rimmed eyes and shaky demeanor.

“Mistress, I couldn’t help but overhear. What happened?”

“One of the city Watch knocked on our door this morning and asked that we accompany him to the Jailhouse. There they told us of the slaughter. Most of our family is d-d-dead,” she told me, before succumbing to tears. I held the woman as she wept until her friend stepped in, glaring at me. I raised my hands in peace stepping back. I had been asked a week ago to perform at a wedding feast scheduled for the night before but had politely declined, uncertain whether or not I would be in town.

I picked up my lyre, whispered my condolences, and wandered off to poke around. If this had anything to do with the battle against Auzorm’tvorl, any information I could scrounge up might be needed.
teflor the ranger
Sojourner
Posts: 3923
Joined: Fri Jul 26, 2002 5:01 am
Location: Waterdeep

Postby teflor the ranger » Thu Jan 13, 2005 10:29 pm

Can we say outcast?
Clan Blindhammer
Sojourner
Posts: 255
Joined: Wed Dec 18, 2002 6:01 am

Postby Clan Blindhammer » Thu Jan 13, 2005 10:59 pm

Yer one to talk, treehugger.

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