The Fear That Binds Us (Solo)

[Taliel Escabre]

(OOC: You can look- don't touch.)

It was quiet, like a very long calm that he had been expecting for a while. The sky, darkened and dreary, seemed as if it could make even the firmest of mountains shake- and as such, the scribe's weak legs were but an afterthought. Everything around him seemed corrupt, dark, and vile. Rocks protruded from the ground as opposed to flowers, and there was no grass in sight. Only ash and soot. Cracks twisted and weaved their way in all directions, acting as deceitful arrows in which a traveler should follow. No, they were no signs, just the wrinkles of an aged earth that had matured too long ago.

And there he stood, one man amongst thousands of demons. He stuck out more plainly than a drunk in a group of the upper class. For that was how he felt- all those around him spoke of subjects which he had no idea. The Crimson Crusade's trade routes, Hawkthrust and his dark plots to launch a military campaign; even the most simple of subjects to these demons were completely foreign to Taliel. He knew nothing about the dreamfont weed, or the sickle spice. It was overwhelming as well as frightening. The darkest of fears had crept into the spell scribe's heart.

He had not chosen this place. He would have chose Salvar or Corone, even his old buff of Raiaera. But not Haidia. Not in one hundred years of study, preparation, and courage would he have chosen this dark, desolate wasteland of despair. But that is not always the way of things. Sometimes, the most life-changing experiences are ones we do not expect. Taliel was about to take part in one of these experiences, one that would shake the very fabric of the pillars which he had built his life upon.

The scribe new this day would come. It had been long preached to him by the scholars at Istien, and he had grown used to, even comfortable with, their foreseeing of him traveling to a dark land. They called it a quest for glory, one that would allow his name to be etched in stone for all eternity. This was a lie, thought Taliel. He had known the wizards of his old school to be bold with their teachings, but this simply seemed too farfetched. And even more so, now that he had entered the forbidden realm. No, this was no quest for glory. This was a disturbing test, one that the mages had set him upon so that he may feel a deep, brooding pain. His face grew red with anger, but he knew that there was no turning back.

He had traveled far from Istien University, and he knew that if he returned empty handed, his punishment would be expulsion. That was not something Taliel could live with, not after the countless months of studying he had put into his craft.

"This...this is so dumb!" he whispered to himself, staring across the vast, barren desert that lay before him. He had left the thousands of demons behind, for they would only interfere with his training. "I know nothing of what they want of me...oh for Heaven's sake...what do I do!?" he cried helplessly, staring at the dark, brooding sky. It let out a quiet roll of thunder, as if it were laughing at his despair. Annoyed with this psuedo-response, Taliel kicked the ash out from under him and began to walk. He fingered the hilt of his rapier uneasily, doing his best to avoid staring ahead at the distance that lay in front of him.

"Go to the Demon Homeland, they said...find yourself they said. What, in Althanas, could that mean? I am not some poet who speaks in riddles like they do. This is hopeless." Each passing moment only seemed to make him realize how hopeless the situation was. Did they wish for him to travel until he had an epiphany? Did they want him to meditate at some great alter? "The least they could have done was given me some extra provisions or something...I mean, these won't last me but a few days!"

And so the scribe trudged on, fear gripping his heart so tightly that it made everything around him appear much, much darker.