Elijah_Morendale
07-25-08, 11:02 AM
Once again, I found myself taking up residence in Radasanth. Life had been boring these past six months: It seems that nobody is in need of a world-worn adventurer and his myriad of talents; no helpless merchant caravans in need of protecting, no low-level damsels in distress who needed to be rescued. Instead, I've resorted to spending my days wandering aimlessly around the labyrinthine streets of Corone's capital city, applying for various positions in guilds and business districts with no success to speak of. They would always come up with some lame excuse as they turned me away--one foreman at the docks even went so far as to tell me that I looked like a pencil-necked, four-eyed girly boy, and that loading and unloading supplies from ships was a (and I quote) "real man's job".
Nadia took control later that night and burned down half of the shipping yard with a few barrels of crude oil and a lantern.
"Nobody calls you that but me," she told me when I had my usual early morning freak out.
Nadia had been growing more violent and erratic since I returned from Salvar. Her childish giggling had taking a darker tone, her bloodlust heightened during our Thursday night training sessions. She was pushing herself into my consciousness more than before--I found myself constantly ducking away from the public eye to argue with her about something trivial. She wanted out, she wanted to kill.
One evening, I blacked out for several hours. But, when I awoke, I was in a different part of town; the slums of the south. It was a neighborhood that I didn't recognize, with nothing but the moon waxing towards full to illuminate the scene. My left hand was wrapped tightly around something cold. It was a crude short sword hastily crafted out of ice, my ice, and it was covered with a dark, sticky liquid that had a peculiar, all-too-familiar smell to it.
"...Oops."
Oops?
"You're... you're not supposed to see this..."
Not supposed to see--
My own confused thoughts came to a screeching halt as I heard the muffled sounds of a child suffocating. In the dim moonlight, I saw the small boy struggling on the uneven stones that made the street, his mouth jammed open by a thick block of ice. His half-opened eyes had fear and pain written all over them, his face a sickly shade of blue. The boy's hands and feet were bound behind his back by another thick chunk of ice.
"Dissipate the ice. Drop the head. Run like hell."
...Head? Nadia, what did you do?
My senses were just beginning to register an anomaly of sorts in my right hand. The substance I had tightly gripped between my digits was thin and stringy, like hair or something. It was heavy, too. I brought the object up to get a closer look, and was greeted with the lifeless eyes of a woman, her expression frozen forever in a look of sheer terror. I let out a rather embarrassing shriek as I dropped the severed noggin, which landed on the stone with a sickening thud.
"Nadia..." My voice cracked as I spoke to my imaginary friend.
"Good. Now get rid of the ice sword and book it, Elijah."
I did half of what I was told. I sent some magical energy through the weapon in my hand, causing it to evaporate. The blood that soaked the blade splattered harmlessly against the ground below. "That boy..."
"He was a witness. I don't like people watching me perform. Now FUCKING MOVE IT!" Her voice thundered in my ears.
So I did.
I ran away from the scene, leaving two people to die horrible deaths that they didn't deserve. I ran faster than I ever thought I could, my lungs pounding in my chest until I thought they would explode. Luckily, the nighttime streets were devoid of any signs of law enforcement.
It was rather trivial compared to the visage I awoke to, but my wallet felt considerably heavier than I last remembered it to be as I ducked through the streets back to my apartment.
Nadia took control later that night and burned down half of the shipping yard with a few barrels of crude oil and a lantern.
"Nobody calls you that but me," she told me when I had my usual early morning freak out.
Nadia had been growing more violent and erratic since I returned from Salvar. Her childish giggling had taking a darker tone, her bloodlust heightened during our Thursday night training sessions. She was pushing herself into my consciousness more than before--I found myself constantly ducking away from the public eye to argue with her about something trivial. She wanted out, she wanted to kill.
One evening, I blacked out for several hours. But, when I awoke, I was in a different part of town; the slums of the south. It was a neighborhood that I didn't recognize, with nothing but the moon waxing towards full to illuminate the scene. My left hand was wrapped tightly around something cold. It was a crude short sword hastily crafted out of ice, my ice, and it was covered with a dark, sticky liquid that had a peculiar, all-too-familiar smell to it.
"...Oops."
Oops?
"You're... you're not supposed to see this..."
Not supposed to see--
My own confused thoughts came to a screeching halt as I heard the muffled sounds of a child suffocating. In the dim moonlight, I saw the small boy struggling on the uneven stones that made the street, his mouth jammed open by a thick block of ice. His half-opened eyes had fear and pain written all over them, his face a sickly shade of blue. The boy's hands and feet were bound behind his back by another thick chunk of ice.
"Dissipate the ice. Drop the head. Run like hell."
...Head? Nadia, what did you do?
My senses were just beginning to register an anomaly of sorts in my right hand. The substance I had tightly gripped between my digits was thin and stringy, like hair or something. It was heavy, too. I brought the object up to get a closer look, and was greeted with the lifeless eyes of a woman, her expression frozen forever in a look of sheer terror. I let out a rather embarrassing shriek as I dropped the severed noggin, which landed on the stone with a sickening thud.
"Nadia..." My voice cracked as I spoke to my imaginary friend.
"Good. Now get rid of the ice sword and book it, Elijah."
I did half of what I was told. I sent some magical energy through the weapon in my hand, causing it to evaporate. The blood that soaked the blade splattered harmlessly against the ground below. "That boy..."
"He was a witness. I don't like people watching me perform. Now FUCKING MOVE IT!" Her voice thundered in my ears.
So I did.
I ran away from the scene, leaving two people to die horrible deaths that they didn't deserve. I ran faster than I ever thought I could, my lungs pounding in my chest until I thought they would explode. Luckily, the nighttime streets were devoid of any signs of law enforcement.
It was rather trivial compared to the visage I awoke to, but my wallet felt considerably heavier than I last remembered it to be as I ducked through the streets back to my apartment.