In The Shadow of War

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

In The Shadow of War

Postby Cirath » Mon Jan 31, 2005 7:53 am

Nothing grew here. There was no singing of crickets, no chirp of birds or rustle of small animals in the dead, brown grass. It was as if all life had fled from the place, afraid of what had taken up residence there.

It smelled clean.

The worn, decrepit stone building that stood in the center of the dead clearing looked equally devoid of life. No sound came from it, and no sign of life could be seen, but it was not empty.

The need pulled at him, drew him to this place. He felt it’s tug, insistent and unrelenting. It had been such for more than a week, once he had decided that there was no time to change the course of the war. Perhaps that was not the way, perhaps the void did not want a grand banquet of souls, but rather desired a steady flow of life into its terrible embrace. Whatever the case may be, he was bound to make it so. A length of chain in hand, the other end attached to his cargo, he continued toward the building.

* * *

The past days had been eventful, shaping his path and laying before him the means to cleanse this world. The pull first came to him in the city of Baldur’s Gate. He had arrived early that morning, the smell of the city and the names in his mind driving him forward. He had intended to find a man, one that the old self had sought for a different reason, one that could lead him to this Vile One that so interested him.

Hours of searching and questioning had proved futile, and had divulged only that those he sought had fled from the area to prepare themselves for battle, and the slaughter that accompanied it. If he could still feel anger and disappointment, perhaps he would have felt them then, but instead he simply set himself back on the task for which he had been reborn.

But the kills did not seem as sweet. No matter the number, no matter the method, it seemed that something was missing. Something seemed just out of reach.

* * *

Even at the battered door that sealed off the building from the outside world, no sign of residents could be seen, yet still he was drawn to it. Somehow, he knew he would find what he needed here. Trusting in the need that had brought him this far, the one that was Cirath pounded once, twice on the door. Long moments passed, and not a sound was heard, but eventually, the creak of neglected hinges heralded the first of the structure’s keepers.

The door slid open far enough to reveal a hooded figure in shabby robes hunching on the other side. “You seek emptiness, Brother?” he asked, upon seeing his visitor. The one that had been Cirath stared into the blackness of the hood a moment, before responding in a harsh, frightening speech never meant for the human tongue.

The hooded figure staggered back a step and gasped, before whispering in common what his visitor had said in the archaic dialect of his master… “I am emptiness.”

The door was opened further, and the visitor entered, towing the chain behind him.

* * *

Snuffing out the mortals one by one was not enough. Even the slaughter that the climax of this war was sure to bring would not sate the need. More were required, more who could carry on this task and spread the rapture of the void through out the realms of the living. But where could they be found?

For days this question plagued him. Certainly no mortal could be charged with the cleansing. Others like himself would have to be found… or made.

He set about looking for proper hosts, those who could be displaced so that the void could grow within them. There were not many, to find more than a few would take far to long on his own. The few that he could locate would have to create other on their own, slowly swelling the ranks of the empty until the world could be properly purged.

* * *

“Master, one of the empty has come!” the hooded figure whispered urgently to an old man, who knelt before a shattered, worn stone that might have once been an altar.

The old man straightened, suddenly stiff as a board, and turned to see the man his pupil had brought to him. The two gazed into each other’s eyes, and after only a moment, the old man spoke. “The boy is right, I feel the void in you. Has the time come then?”

The need throbbed in him, thumping like a rabbit’s heart. This was the one. This mortal could help him, could call upon the void to bring forth others of his kind. He simply had to be shown the way.

Yanking the chain, he sent the three humans bound to it sprawling at his feet. One of them, a young woman, whimpered softly, her ability to speak seemingly returning. Staring down at the three for a moment, he then returned his gaze to the old man before him, and said, “It has. A task has been laid before you. Here is what you must do…”

* * *

Somewhere in the night, three voices were silenced, three souls cried out in terror, and three new vessels were filled with the void.

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