Rain, Rain, Go Away..

[Lisean]

((Closed. Solo. Those that read and wish to rate, feel free.))

Nothing but the cold, hard iron flooring comforted the young girl that was left to sit inside her new home. Bars took her in as the only obstacle that came in the path of any who tried to stop her from whimpering in the farthest corner from the large table that was nearby, playing host to a card game between eight men tossing their pilfered gold to the one who had the best hand each time. The rampant cheering of the single bandit who was deemed triumphant was enough to make any girl under ten scream for their mother and father. To feel their loving embrace. The girl in the cage, however.. had to hold her breath. She couldn’t scream, even if she tried. All she could do was shed tear after tear, while her once pure hazel eyes were left to stare in horror at the tongue on the cage floor. Resting beside it was the very knife that took the voice out of the angel. She wanted to clasp it for her defense against the men that had her imprisoned, but the fact it stole something of hers wasn’t making it all inviting right now.

Breaking her arms free from around her small body, she pushed her palms down the rugged red dress that would be more fitting on a young adult, wiping her hands clean of any possible sins that she may have committed. Was this some sort of punishment to her? Perhaps so. With no other way out, she found her escape by folding her hands together, and closing her eyes. She kept quiet, and prayed.

***

The west end of the great city of Scara Brae wasn’t as upbeat as the day before, when the necromancer had first arrived. Walking out of a local inn made Lisean force himself to an immediate halt in his footsteps upon seeing groups gather on the streets.. to weep. Looking left and right, before finally crossing the road after a wagon drove by, his steps became more desperate for knowledge of the times cherished by the people. Perhaps it was a holiday.. where people grieved the losses of those of their own bloodline that were lost to war, or sea. Approaching complete strangers and maintaining a calm, relaxed demeanor was as easy as donning his armor. He came to a stop before a group of three. A mother and her daughter were hugging either the missing piece of the portrait, or a good friend.

“Ummm.. Excuse me..” Lisean said very quietly. He tapped his foot on the dirt road at a slow rhythm to keep his patience while he waited a moment or two for an answer. It didn’t come. Seeing as how he was usually ignored, the chance of not being able to hear him over their own cries was within the realm of possibility. He rose a fist over his mouth, and forced a cough, to hopefully inherit their eyes and ears. “Beg your pardon..”

No response.

Had he slept through the town crier’s tragic news? Was he walking blind in the midst of a burial about to take place? A cremation of a member of the royal family? Had a knight been so unfortunate to cross paths with a dragon? Lisean shook his head to himself, closing his eyes and inclining his chin to almost touch his neck. With a head hung low, he turned his back to the mourners, and walked away. Obviously, he wasn’t needed. Oh well. So long as he knew he tried at least once to help out. Now he could do his share of studying the book held under one arm by a protective grip of his left hand. He thought too soon about heading back inside, when a voice called out from down the road, where people by the numbers began to gather.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!”

Okay.. so maybe he didn’t miss the crier’s news. As the man did his job and repeated those words that seemed ever-so-inviting to the necromancer, the one garbed in black made sure not to approach the group of townspeople slowly. He joined the outraged men, and crying women. Cases like this wound up in a plea from the crier, meaning that there was a task that needed to be taken care of, and that very favour with such popular demand would give him just the respect he deserved, let alone the gold needed for more rooms to stay in, and bottles of wine to keep him up all night.

“THE SCARA SCOURGE HAVE STRUCK AGAIN!” the man who stood above the pedestrians announced. The only thing that knighted him a figure of authority was a stone bench that made him stand a couple feet higher than Lisean and the commoners.

“ANOTHER CHILD HAS BEEN ABDUCTED, AND UPON WORD OF THIS CRIME REACHING HER ROYAL MAJESTY, SHE HAS DECIDED TO ENLIST THE AID OF ANY WHO ARE WILLING TO RESCUE THE LITTLE GIRL FROM THE CLUTCHES OF THOSE WHO OPPOSE US! THOSE WHO THINK THEY’VE GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO MAKE A STAND, IN THE NAME OF QUEEN VALEENA, STEP FORWARD, AND LET YOUR HEROISM BE KNOWN BY THE CITIZENS OF SCARA BRAE!”

Lisean could’ve sworn that by the time the proclamation had reached the ears of the community, somebody got a clutch of his precious violet hair, and ripped back in an attempt to bring him on his rear end. Snapping his eyes shut, his voice rose up, and a harsh yell was heard by the crier, and the knights that accompanied the bearer of news, amongst all the shouts men gave for their own soul volunteering for such a honour. For a change, the necromancer got what he wanted. The eyes that were on Lisean grew by the numbers. Those that were watching the ones up front, followed their own stare to look upon the outlander.

Once the grip was gone, Lisean’s first reaction was to turn around to confront the one who attempted to assault him. Oddly enough, nobody was behind him. Or, at least nobody that could moved that fast. There was only him, left to stand in the middle of an open circle made by the peasants that stared him down. With his back turned to the crier and knights, the three began to approach through the people that parted for them, while the necromancer crouched down to clutch the only thing he could find on the ground that could hopefully lead to the one responsible for him becoming the center of attention. Salmon eyes eyed the object in suspicion, or rather, curiousity. He was dumbfounded.

A bone necklace.. with feathers? Lisean described what was in his free hand to himself, before the sound of a sword being brandished made him slowly rise up to his feet. A blade unseen by his own eyes was bad enough, but to be gutted before a city of weeping people wasn’t his exact idea of the fair end.

[Lisean]

“State your name,” the knight ordered, his arm held out straight to let the tip of his blade just touch the back of Lisean’s neck. The necromancer shifted his eyes left and right, quickly discarding the necklace in his hands and shoving it into the Book of Lemot, which still rested under his shoulder. Was he left with any other option? He had to adhere to the law, if he wanted to avoid the eyes of the local authorities when it came to what he studied. Tilting his head a little to the right, he tried to remain calm, and took in a deep breath, as he rolled his shoulders. The necromancer turned around, and locked his eyes onto the guard first, before meeting the crier’s, who seemed to be the head of the three.

“Lisean Lemot,” he simply answered. He couldn’t get any closer to obeying a direct order. The knight that had the sword now against his throat turned his head to look at the crier, who seemed frozen in place. With a sword at his neck, Lisean’s stern appeal surprised the man, and made him smirk, nodding his head to the soldier. Once that sign was given, the knight sheathed his weapon. At least now some of the pressure had been lifted. The spellcaster was somewhat relaxed, now. That was, until the sudden outburst of the crier made even him nearly jump out of place.

“PEOPLE OF SCARA BRAE! I GIVE YOU LISEAN, THE ONE WHO HAS VOLUNTEERED TO SAVE THE YOUNG GIRL FROM THE BANDITS OF THE SCARA SCOURGE!”

The applause had taken as much of a shock to Lisean as did the crier’s sudden shouting. His response to the cheering could only be answered by tucking his head in, and raising his shoulders up. He counted on his long bangs to cover up his face and escape the disturbing clasps and encouraging words that poisoned his ears. That was when he felt something hit his head. At first, it was only one prick, but it quickly escalated to a few more of those icy drops of water to grace his shoulders. His first reaction to rain.. Conceal the book.

Shoving the book carefully into his coat, Lisean stood still whilst the crowds dissipated, running immediately for shelter. Though the dark clouds casting themselves overhead were all the more inviting to the necromancer, it seemed as if a vast majority of people tended to think otherwise. Then again, he thought differently on most subjects than everybody else, anyway. The crier bowed to Lisean, bidding his farewell and leaving him with final words. For once, they were let out at a moderate volume.

“I suggest you walk down this road a bit, make a right, and enter the second house on your left. The man there can offer you shelter for a couple hours, and maybe give you the details on your quest. If you return successful, I will see to it that the Queen is well aware of your bravery. Good luck to you, Sir Lisean.”

“Wait.. why him? What information can he give me? I know what I have to know; rescue the girl, and bring her back-”

“You may want to find out his daughter’s name!” the crier answered as he began to leave the area with the two knights escorting him. “He’s the father of the poor soul! Please, shed some hope for him!”

Lisean sighed, after everyone had departed from him to let him rot in the street. Just the way he liked it. Alone. A very small smile crept up on his lips, as he tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, allowing the rain drops to fall upon his face. It felt nice to be refreshed after a long night in the inn. The reminders of all the fights and pointless debates that took place caused him to focus back on his primary objective. He had to find this man’s house. The directions, he etched into memory.. but was he really willing to move right now? Not at all. He knew he had to, sooner or later.

So, without sparing even himself the slightest delicacy of mercy, he turned himself around, and began to drag his feet, carrying him down the street. The rain had become so heavy, that small puddles had already begun to form on the dirt road here and there. With no idea of which right to take, he just assumed it was the first, seeing as how the crier did say a bit, when it came to distance down the main road. He came upon a very small street, that only governed four houses. The last house on the left was where he had to go.

The clouds overhead had turned from gray, to black. It felt like it was sundown, already. All the more comfortable for Lisean’s short trip. He felt bad for having to go inside and miss out and such an opportunity to keep to himself. He was completely drenched.. but he didn’t mind it. Hopefully, this guy he had to confront wouldn’t be offended to have a ‘stray dog’ enter his humble abode. Standing on the single stone tile that served as a floor mat before the door, the necromancer lifted his free arm up, and knocked twice on the door. His eyes slowly dropped down to peer inside his coat to the book he held against his chest from the outside of the leather. His mind was still tossing questions at the necklace that had not the ability to answer.

[Lisean]

“W-Who is it?” the hesitant voice of a shattered man just barely came through the makeshift door of the not-so-fine handiwork. At least the necromancer now knew he was at the right place. Inclining his head, he thought of how to approach the guy, who was suffering from a traumatic experience in the present. If was looking for somebody to undergo a rescue mission, it was Lisean’s guess that he wasn’t looking forward to having someone he could not trust out to find his daughter. Having to act high and mighty wasn’t on his daily agenda, but regardless, he had knowledge of how to play the proper part.

“I have been asked by the local authorities of Scara Brae to ask you about information regarding the kidnapping of your daughter,” he stated, having to stand up straight while he spoke to truly feel noble while his words were conjured out of the blue. His first impression had to be a good one. One that the man could rely on. “Would it be alright if I were to perhaps.. step inside for a few minutes? Get details from you about the whereabouts of your little girl?”

There was a moment of silence, but the sound of a lock clicking broke it, and left Lisean to smile to himself. A job well-done. The door opened a crack, giving rough hazel eyes the chance to look over the necromancer. He looked very, very different from the average traveler. Black leather clothing of elegant handiwork, purple hair, pink eyes.. Different. From behind the man and the sounds of crackling fire, came the desperate cries of a young child, estimated around 5 years of age max by Lisean. The door opened fully, and the man having tattered rags for clothing gave the hopeful hero a full-fledged smile. Or rather, tried to.

“Please come in, kind sir,” the man insisted in a held back breath, turning and wavering a hand into the two room home. Lisean nodded his head in acceptance, and stepped inside upon being invited, closing the door behind him. Looking around, there wasn’t much to see that sparked interest, besides the fact that the main room itself seemed to host one person. The potato sacks serving as pillows and a single thin rag on the wooden floor gave out the oblivious message. The open door leading to the other room, however, had two nice, furnished beds. They had blankets that met royal standards. Most likely the kind of delicacy offered to guards of the castle. A young girl was sitting on one of the beds, pausing in her moment of crying. The man pointed at a chair over by the fire.

“You may wait here, while I put Rosaline to bed. I’ll try not to take too much of your time. Won’t be long,” the man said. Lisean respected his wishes, and walked over to the small chair fit for a young boy on timeout. He eyed the meager structure for a moment, before he simply moved it aside, and took his perch on the floor, setting his staff next to him, and hugging his knees up to his chest. As he waited, he paid good attention to what was going on in the back. The door was still open, allowing a stranger’s eyes to fall upon the events in the household. Father and daughter were hugging one another, shedding their last tears for the time being, for the missing girl. A couple minutes passed like they were nothing. The girl was tucked into bed, and the man kissed her on the forehead, before heading to the door. The sudden roar of thunder startled little Rosaline, making her sit back up and cry once more for her ‘daddy.’

The man sighed, and brought his head back to thank the Gods for disturbing his little girl in his own way, curling his open palms into brute fists. Letting his anger out in a single deep breath, he turned around, and walked over to his daughter, sitting at bedside. “Here.. We’ll make the rain go away together,” he said. The girl, wiping her tears away, nodded. The song that was sung, odd enough as it was, hit the rejected soul in the living room. Right in the heart.

“Rain, Rain, Go Away.
Come again another day.
All the world is waiting for the sun.”

The simple tune was repeated by the man, and eventually, the little girl joined in with him, raising her sweet voice to the heavens, praying for an answer. Rosaline quickly fell asleep in the midst of the lyrics, letting them take her off to her safe, reliable dreamland. The man kissed her forehead once again, and very slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him to give a smile to the girl.

“The song. Their mother used to sing it to them when the rain came. It always served us as a remedy for whatever obstacles we crossed on our path,” he explained. Lisean, still awestruck, just nodded his head in response. Something about that song made him hurt inside. He ran a hand over where his heart would be, and winced a bit. He didn’t know if feeling something take so much effect was a good thing or bad thing.

“So.. you wanted to ask me a few questions, sir? Oh! I’m sorry, how rude of me. My name’s Ron.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Lisean intruded, wavering a hand and ignoring the rude manners. The man was already being kind enough for letting him enter his home. As the man took a seat, Lisean’s ears and eyes moved to the open window that sat behind him, above his head. His body shook as a cold breeze somehow entered his clothing, and made him shake to no means end. Part of him followed logic, and believed his body was naturally cold because his body was still drenched, and had only just begun to take in the breath of fire. Something.. spiritual, gave him another reason. What was outside that window astounded him.

The rain. It had died down to a light drizzle.

Was it coincidence? Or did the song take effect?

“I-I-I’m.. I’m Lisean.”

[Lisean]

The crackling fire was the only thing that had kept the conversation between employer and employee alive. Lisean had tilted his head towards the fire, letting his hair hang before it. Sure, he was risking it getting caught by the flame, but it was the only way he could get his hair dried fast. Concentrated eyes were watching Ron as he spoke of what his mission was to be. He already knew the gist of it, but details were crucial upon a second rundown of what was expected of him.

“Given the circumstances of how I was.. forced into taking up this quest,” Lisean began, recalling the tramp who he couldn’t manage to catch. God, did he ever want to choke him or her for getting him into all of this. “I’m going to have to ask the most irrelevant question. What is my reward?” The necromancer crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled somewhat with that trace of hope for something good. Although he recognized this man as a commoner, there was the slim chance of a worthwhile prize.

Ron, on the other hand, was moreso disappointed in his hopeful hero for the first question asked. He had hoped to have found that good Samaritan, but instead his people had brought to him another outside that seemed a little too desperate for his own good. Lowering his head and letting out a held back sigh, Ron closed his eyes. He felt like Lisean gave him no time to think on an answer. “I have.. a very good relationship with her royal highness, Valeena. My daughter, she tends to the flowers in the family’s courtyard. Would my word that you will have an audience with the queen be word enough to satisfy you?”

“No,” Lisean answered, frowning in discomfort at the thought. “I don’t get along well with people. Besides.. I find royal figures to be a little arrogant. They think they’re on top of the world.. when all they had was just the luck of being born into a more fortunate family than most.”

“I disagree, Lisean,” Ron contested, rising from his chair to stand up for what he believed. “My queen does her hardest to accomplish things the people of Scara Brae ask her to overcome!”

“Sit down, Ron,” Lisean muttered, wavering a hand towards the chair that was beckoning for Ron to sit back down upon, rocking back and forth. He didn’t want to enter a pointless argument.

“Don’t give me orders! Either watch your tongue in my house, or get out!”

From behind the door in the back, a child’s whining could be heard. Ron raising his voice had resulted in his daughter waking up from the sweet sanctity she turned out to adore. Now that her peace was disrupted, Lisean rose to his feet in quick consideration of the father’s statement.

“I’ll go.. and I’ll get your daughter back, Ron,” Lisean decided, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Debating will get us nowhere at this rate, and you’ve got another little girl to tend to. Just.. tell me your missing daughter’s name.” Lisean began to walk towards the front door. Ron took his own path as well, heading towards little Rosaline’s room. Before going to ensure her that everything was alright, Ron stopped, and looked back at Lisean with a glistening ray of hope in his eyes. He caught his breath, and gave him everything he knew.

“Her name is Aliza. The Scara Scourge had threatened long beforehand that they were going to take her away from me when I managed to get away without giving them any of my gold. The five that come in from the West have a small encampment out in the Brokenthorn Forest. No man knows how far in they reside, but only true warriors enter those woods. Spiders infest the areas where the trees reach so high, the sun doesn’t shine upon the ground you’ll be treading on. They use the river as a means to guide them to the lake named after our queen, and find our kingdom just as quickly. You may want to start your search for information there. One of the fishermen must’ve seen the rogues pass by.”

Lisean nodded his head, and opened up the door leading outside, where the sun seemed to beam down strong enough to make him turn away. Blinking uncontrollably for a moment before he focused in on Ron, who still hadn’t gone to check up on Rosaline. He just stared at him, with a smile on his face.

“May the Sky Mother be with you, while you are on your way, Lisean. I shall await your return. Please.. bring Aliza back to me. She’s a treasure without a price.”

Lisean didn’t answer him. He simply nodded his head, and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. His hues were fixed on the ground. Such a heart, that man had. An inner strength so powerful, he couldn’t say no to his desperation to see his daughter again. The necromancer rubbed a palm over the left side of his chest, swallowing back on what saliva had gathered in his mouth. What he felt was so excruciating, that he staggered the first few fair steps that carried him back down the way he came.

[Lisean]

Aliza. Such an innocent soul who didn’t deserve all of this.

Whimpering in her cell, the young girl had not moved from her position at the back of the cage. She had the impression there was no hope for her. She had even begun to count down her last hours by ripping an inch of the ruby dress she was wearing each time he caught the gang of thieves show signs of annoyance with the fact she was still a burden. The numbers of rogues on watch had cut down to just three, after the other five went either to their posts or tended to personal matters. Two were rummaging through past stolen luxuries, while the third sat in a chair at the other end of the room, using a dagger to clean the scraps of dirt that had found its way dug into his nails. One by one, trinkets and such were tossed over the shoulders of the debating men who were acting only half their age, arguing over what was better than what. The third saw the dispute as pointless, and was considering shoving that dagger he held into one of their hearts, just to get his point across: they were being a huge nuisance to him. To keep himself from betraying his fellow man, the shadowed rogue let his eye loom over the prisoner.

“How long will we have to deal with this one, do ya think?” the man asked his companions, their bickering coming to a stop upon catching his question. They were thinking the same way, and therefore had to say something to reassure their friend.

“Soon, I hope. We can’t just toss kids down the river everyday,” was the first answer received, whilst the man who spoke behind rum chuckled at his own remark. “I mean, like.. y’know what the boss says. We have to make it look natural. If we throw too many kids down ‘ere they’re going to put two and two together.” The quite common cheap talk the rogues were taking part in made the girl shiver uncontrollably, her very reference making her tear another line into the dress that fit her like an oversized comforter.

“Well, I’m sick of waiting,” the other rogue scoffed, leaning back in his chair and tucking his dagger into it’s rightful sheathe on his thigh. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared up at the rocky ceiling and let out a sigh. “Besides, we don’t have all the time in the world. Sooner or later the militia’s gonna be sending in their troops, and then Wes can kiss his little escapade goodbye.”

“He’ll let us deal with it soon enough. Patience, my friend. Patience.” To occupy himself, the eager rogue got out of his chair, and began to roll a large barrel out of the cavern-like room.

“Pick your shit up and clean after yourselves,” he spat under his breath. The two didn’t bother with raising their voices, and began to put the loot all back in their crates “This better be the last kid, too! I want to enjoy my share of the keep long before I find myself in a dungeon!” he shouted from down the corridor.

Aliza managed to snatch a piece of treasure while the thieves talked amongst themselves. Her little wrists reached out and grabbed an article of jewelry, and pulled back into the cell. The meager victory was unseen, but she was more than overjoyed to have something so precious close to her, clasping the necklace in her hands. She knew that if she wore it, they’d somehow notice and take it from her without second thoughts. A white feather charm hung from an expensive silver chain. With her prayers, all of her answers had come to her. All the people she ever needed were close to her heart. The Mother that she had gone without, the Queen she adored and worked under, and the Rogue that kept her out of trouble were with her. Time only told if further aid would come for her.

***

Not much of a walking distance separated the great city of Scara Brae with the lake named after its queen, Valeena. Next to the giant body of water were a couple of docks with small boats, for the fishermen around the area to gather and do what they did best. An inn of sorts was also there for travelers to simply relax and have a good time. Perhaps even catch the latest gossip going on in town, without the rush of great warriors who lived in the city to get their hands on jobs. It was in this place that Lisean was to find what he could on the Scara Scourge. Every tavern had its dark figure cast aside in the far corner, keeping to him or herself. Usually, the necromancer played that part, but when all the corners were taken, he had no choice but to sit in the midst of all the commotion, trying to keep his focus on the Book of Lemot.

And with the rush of customers entering the Lake Valeena Tavern and Inn, there was a shadow of a doubt all his favourite spots were reserved.

[Lisean]

Lively music induced the newcomers of the inn with cheer. The group of bards that were playing instruments from lutes to ocarinas to even pipes made jolly folk gather round in an empty spot of the tavern to dance with one another. The time had come for the children to be put to bed, while their parents were to remain downstairs and drink over whatever folklore they could conjure from bewitched lips after having a little too much of the cellar’s special. The party seemed like there was going to be no end to it. If the necromancer were to even place his order, he could’ve guaranteed that the barkeep wouldn’t be able to hear him, and further injure his ears with an outburst of the horrendous question, ‘[I]WHAT?![I]’ Yes, it was a merry hour for all, except for Lisean.

After the bard’s were finished playing their songs, the pathways to tables finally gave way when the other customers began to take their seats to chatter with their friends, maybe even total strangers if they had enough already to influence them to. It was at this time Lisean had to be quick to find the closest empty chair. The necromancer weaved through a couple commoners that were less fortunate of him to have abused enough substances to not think correctly, and found a spot with a couple lovebirds sitting across the way. All the other chairs that were meant for this table were dragged to separate tables, and in an instant Lisean could see why. With the way they were all over each other, there was no doubt they had children upstairs.. and were planning to bring another into the world.

With haste, he took his book from out of his coat, and flipped it open. He had to take his eyes off the couple groping each other across the way. Otherwise, he’d eventually go mental. He needed something. Anything that could interest him, and most of those things were found in the pages of the Book of Lemot. Candles.. already read. Ritual methods.. already read. Senium, the steed of decay.. already read. Why didn’t there seem to be anything he had the power to accomplish? Could’ve been because he thought he couldn’t. His eyes came to a halt upon the title ‘[I]Beginnings For The Damned[I],’ and brought his entire face into the book, hoisting it up to stand on its binding to hopefully help him forget about the love being made not even ten feet away. The very thing that upset him the most. He mouthed the words he was reading silently to himself as he read from behind his bangs which weren’t all that much of a nuisance to him.

“One of the first things an apprentice necromancer is recommended to learn is how to embue objects with diseases, poisons, and even curses, to maximize agony for the subject it is to be used on. Anything in the world can be used in a means to create something devastating. From the venomous fang of a serpent, to even strands of hair from a passerby. The first lesson for this chapter is this: Do not overlook anything you come across. Some enemies that you take out may have properties that they carry you can use to your advantage. Example; a cat’s tail is a key ingredient for a Minor Agility Potion, and a supplement to the Feline Drought, which could alter your very form into that of a black cat for a limited amount of time. Other things, like the fang of a dragon, could be brought into merchants and blacksmiths to be worked on, forming some useful equipment to support your journey into the Nether. There are no end to the possibilities of things you could conjure with a little gold, and the will to put your life up against some hostile predators of Althanas. While the risks are great, the ascension to the Nether is a formidable reward.”

Why couldn’t he find this section before? The beginnings chapter was written as if it were an introduction, yet it was on page two-hundred and seventy three? This book sometimes even questioned his intelligence. That was exactly what got him more interested in its secrets.

“Could I get ye anythin’, sugar?” asked the waitress that had approached the necromancer from behind. He didn’t want to answer to the name ‘sugar,’ but he was desperate for a room, considering the lower levels were getting very crowded.

“Ummm.. A room would be nice, milady,” he muttered. The barmaid had to lean forward to put her ear next to his lips to hear him. Lisean had reason to believe she was intentionally revealing cleavage for purposes of persuading him for a tip. He couldn’t complain. He was genetically male, and with the corruption still in his mind, he fell victim to the breasts clad in a leather corset. He shook his head to himself after realizing what he was doing, and the lady walked away with a dignified smile on her face. Maybe the order was enough to convince her to getting a raise for doing such a good job.

Shortly after enduring the phase of self-discipline, the same bar maid came back with a key and a mug of ale. She set the key on the table before Lisean, and curtsied as she handed him the alcohol.

“The drink’s on me, sweetheart. Enjoy your evening!”

As much as it hurt him to stare down at the key, he couldn’t help but live normally, regardless of the conditions of the girl he was to rescue. The key symbolized another night’s worth of time she’d be away from home, in the clutches of the Scourge. He frowned, and lowered his head. He felt horrible. Usually, he couldn’t care less if the world was to starve, but now that saving Aliza was his purpose, he was unable to hold that thought of letting Ron’s calls be ignored, leading to the death of his little girl.

Once the lady took her leave, the necromancer took his things, and immediately went upstairs. After setting his belongings down in his room, and slamming the door behind him, he screamed. The room suddenly went dark, and the shadows welcomed their child into the embrace of the void.

The inn couldn’t hear him, and couldn’t care for the world. Just like how he thought he could do the same.

[Lisean]

A couple hours passed with Lisean still curled into a ball in the middle of his sanctum, finding shelter within himself, or rather trying to.

Finally, a rapping came upon the door behind him.

“Excuse me, mister?” the voice of a little girl squeaked from behind the worn gateway to the necromancer’s room.

“Go away,” Lisean answered sternly. “I can’t help you.”

“Please, mister..” the girl fussed, sobbing a bit behind her words. He could hear the sound of a little body half the size of himself push up against the door. No doubt she was pressing her ear against it to hear better. “I can’t find my mommy. She said she’d come and tuck me in, but I haven’t seen her for a long time. Can you help me find-”

“I told you, I can’t help you!” he repeated. After saying this, there was a moment of silence, before it was broken by.. giggling. Was the little girl filled with joy? Did she find pestering him funny? The necromancer was still frozen as he lay in the middle of the room, debating on whether or not the vexation outside his door was worth his time to stand up against. That’s when he heard her voice again.

“Tee hee! You’re funny, Lisean!”

***

When the coast was clear, the lock on the cage broke free, awakening the prisoner in the red dress.

Nobody was there. Nobody visible.

M-Mother?

***

The door was shoved open by Lisean, who charged into the hallway to find this girl who seemed to have known him. He was left with questions filling his head. Who was she? Who’d know about him? Where did she go? All the topics to think about aggravated him. He required answers, and the fact that he wasn’t getting them like he wanted was surely not helping him at this point in time. Turning his eyes to the right, the necromancer caught a blonde haired infant descending the stairs, just seeing enough of her before she disappeared downstairs to configure her speed. She was running. It was obvious that she was the one who was at his door.

No matter the rate of speed he was going at, it was almost as if he was chasing the impossible to catch. How was it possible? Gah. More questions. With a shake of his head, he continued to sprint to the front door and outside of the inn, unaware of the empty main level he was on. At this hour, it should’ve been packed.

The events that unfolded next penetrated the nerves on Lisean’s neck, making his hair stand on end. Something he saw was even so mesmerizing that the man who studied death and sacrifice was getting second thoughts about moving any forward after the girl.

Why? Because she wasn’t a girl at all. She was transparent. A wandering spirit. A ghost.

Like she had never come to realize the truth about her very being, and how the necromancer reacted to this, she continued to skip down towards the lake, traveling at an alarming rate up to the point where the river and the lake joined. She stopped, and before Lisean could take another step forward, she turned around, looking at him, and screamed at the top of her lungs. The shriek made Lisean fall to his knees and clasp his hands over his ears for dear life. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life deaf, like many others. The girl’s eyes became nothing but black pits, as if they had just been suddenly ripped out of their sockets.

The sight was unbearable. Lisean just had to snap his eyes shut and beg for it all to come to an end. He couldn’t endure much more of it.

Then just as quickly as he wished for it, the Gods had answered. The noise stopped.

Even with the silence, Lisean got a shudder of the last thing out of the normal that he saw. Once he stood up to go check on the quiet little girl, her form fell into the lake, materializing into a solid, deranged corpse face-down in the water. The dead girl was nothing more than the floating subject of mystery underneath a blanket of stars, lit up by the moon. Whatever the hell it was that brought his ghastly vision upon Lisean, he knew that there must’ve been reason behind it. Questions would have to remain unanswered. Such a shame.

However.. there was room for the lake to give him a clue. The still water cast itself in a direction aiming back towards the river that led straight into the forest. The corpse floated back the way it came, and was pushed up river. In no way would this be able to be considered some sort of trick in the mind of the shattered man on a mission.

A couple minutes after the girl disappeared into the woods, the necromancer followed, walking along the path that was next to the water. The disturbed ground told him that others have used this trail in means of safe passage in the past. Why would anyone take such a route when the main road was not even a castle’s length away?

Something smelt bad here. Either it was in Lisean’s mind when he began to detect crime afoot, or it was real, and the fact that he was now on the pursuit of a rotting carcass was not sitting all too well with him. He felt vulnerable enough to vomit.

[Lisean]

Everything felt like a lost cause to Lisean. The pursuit of this girl was turning out to be a gruelling, long process. He could easily walk faster than the limp body in the river, but he was convinced that the spirits were trying to tell him something. No mere body could float upriver against the water, not to mention the fact there was a slight ascension in terrain. He was heading uphill, turning towards the eastern end of the forest, or at least that’s where it felt like the path was taking him.

Echoing in his mind was the voice of that girl from back at the inn, when she called him by name. It still sat like a tack in his chair. One that he couldn’t get off, as much as he tried. There was that troubled child, who thrived to play pranks on the teacher. This brought up another question to him. Was it actually this child’s intention to play a game with him?

“Think, Lisean. Think…”

There was the time of need before she played these mind-games. She wanted something.. Something out of Lisean. It didn’t take much reflection to recall. Her mother apparently ‘forgot’ to tuck her in. Was she with the men downstairs at the tavern? Not likely. The lower levels were quiet when he left. That’s when it hit him. No noise? It’s only one in the morning! There should’ve been at least outraged drunks fighting and possibly sounds of a one-time intimacy coming from across the hall.

Why was the tavern empty? It couldn’t have closed down if he was able to check in. Now he started to think on just what happened to all the livelihood he sat in the middle of a few hours ago. What happened to all those lives?

Lisean halted the moment his salmon eyes caught the corpse stop. It didn’t budge from the river which was strong enough to probably even push him downriver. Faint chatter caught his ears, triggering the immediate action of hiding behind the closest tree available to him that was big enough to cover his slender build. It was easy for him to perform a covert operation in such a setting, slipping behind a tree and poking his eyes out to spot two men up ahead.

“I’m telling ya, bro! There’s foul things that lurk in these woods!”

“Oh, quit yer jabberin’. There’s nothin’ to be tremblin’ in yer boots over. Wes’ got it under control.”

The lack of hushing in their voice allowed Lisean to take what information he could from the conversation. Already, Lisean got one name. The way they spoke of him told the necromancer of a higher-ranking member of this group. The red bandanas around their necks gave him a good sign of hope, along with their simple leather armor. Thieves. He found the Scourge that everyone seemed to have been afraid of back in town. The colour of blood they wore around their face or head matched that of the knights of Scara Brae. As they continued to speak amongst each other, the necromancer studied his targets carefully for weaponry. What was he up against? One with a dagger, and the other with what could considered a wooden club. The dagger would be much more of a threat to him.

“But ye know how I am against spiders, Tom.”

“Oh, how many times to I have to spit it out?! Wes has it under control!”

The two stopped, and the one who seemed to be more likely to break under fear jumped back, almost dropping his club in the process. His jaw dropped, and a finger pointed down in Lisean’s general direction. For a second, the necromancer thought his ghastly appearance scared the hell out of him, and his cover was blown. But, the tables seemed to work in his favour this time around.

“W-W-What’s THAT?! Is that a GIRL?!”

The other rogue’s eyes moved to the water, and his eyes widened in horror. Not by the glimpse of the corpse was his stomach turning, but his average wisdom caught on to the fact it wasn’t moving downriver. It was almost like it was defiant to his ruling, or somebody else’s for that matter. Great. His brother had caught on to the intention. He had to make up a cover story. Scaring him a little seemed like the only way out.

“That ain’t a girl! That couldn’t nearly be considered one. That thing.. is too mangled to be thought of as a girl. Something dead, that’s fer sure.”

There was that moment of silence that fuelled adrenaline in Lisean, who very quietly brandished the dagger from the inside of his left thigh. His breathing became heavy, and almost too difficult to contain, but somehow the thieves were blinded by the sight of the body. He clenched the hilt of the blade, holding his weapon up to his heart. His eyes remained preparing on the first strike, making sure it would be a fatal one. He couldn’t take two on one with his prowess, if they were experienced. That’s when an invitation was offered. Lisean would be sure to thank that girl in the river for the courage.

“C’mon, Jules. We have to move it out of the river.”

“W-What?! But why?!”

“Because, if we don’t, then think of how angry the ghosts of the forest would be with us. We should send it off and let whoever it was rest in peace, and not linger in these woods.”

The one named Tom smirked, and began to walk towards the body. Jules, defeated after feeling betrayed, shook his head to himself, and inhaled before he followed after his partner. They stood infront of the body in the water, their backs turned to the man they did not realize was there. Oh, it felt like the criminals were just walking into Lisean’s path to have justice dealt upon them. Too bad his honour code didn’t work like the people of Scara Brae. They were sure to pay for their acts in the past with their lives, and not time. In Lisean’s opinion, time never changed anything but the world the people walked upon.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edited November 8th, 2008. After my recent return to Althanas, I've tried to look back over this thread in hopes of finishing it, but it seems I cannot grasp it the way I use to. To no longer have this quest simply being left behind, I have decided to take what I can out of this thread of old and submit for judging early, and unfinished. My apologies to those who wished to read further into this story, but with trying to get back into the spirit of writing, I thought it'd be best to focus on current projects and close the ones in the past for what it's worth. Thank you for your understanding, and sorry again for the inconvenience.

[Witchblade]

Storyline

Continuity: - 5 The quest appeared to have started off with relatively simple storyline. Save the girl, kill the bad guys; make the village happy kind of thing. But you added in some interesting twists and turns that fit in with your character well. The hair pulling, the floating corpse and the ghost of the little girl all enhanced the story and turned it from something dull and done one too many times into something intriguing. Small things like that are usually what keep the reader interested. I had a few questions while reading it, like why the crier picked Lisean out of a group of willing men? One very big mistake I caught in the very first paragraph was the tongue being cut out. Very nice visually, however, there’s a major vein running through the tongue and cutting it off without proper medical attention would result in the person bleeding to death. In the end, I wasn’t really sure where you were going with the storyline, since you didn’t finish the quest sadly. I’m also not sure how it would have affected Lisean in the short or even long run. A shame really.

Setting: - 7.5 The first paragraph of this story was well written and very vivid in the eyes of the reader, bringing the room of thieves of life and the ghastly scene of the girl without a tongue. After that, the setting seemed to waver. One problem with writing something so descriptive in the beginning is keeping up with it throughout the rest of the quest, keeping the standard so to speak. Though your setting afterwards was never horrible or even bad, sometimes it just seemed lacking, or a group of words you threw together in hopes of creating a vivid setting. The description of the lovers was a good use of NPC as setting, but the forest just seemed kind of dull. Yes, we all know what a forest looks like, but different people will notice different things every time they step into one.

Pacing: - 6 Overall, the pacing to the quest seemed all right. It felt like Lisean was thrown into the area the Scara Scourge inhabit a bit quickly considering the pace of everything else. Though it wasn’t slow, it was steady and just had a nice, even feel to it, keeping the reader interested while not rushing into things too quickly. Had it been finished, the pacing score might be different than it is now for I would not have been left at a crucial moment wondering what was next and how Lisean was going to manage getting out of that situation.

Character

Dialogue: - 8 Most of your dialogue was very well done. It all seemed to the fit the individual characters that you had throughout the quest. You definitely did a marvellous job of portraying your NPC’s, even if they only showed up for two lines, through their dialogue. The only ones I actually didn’t like were the two Scara Scourge members in your last post. I found that one guy asking if the body in the river was a girl kind of funny, but besides that it came off a little dull, mundane and the same old stuff everyone writes for bad guys. The ghosts of the forest getting mad if they left the body alone was weird and just seemed like an excuse to make it easier for Lisean to kill the two of them, which I can only assume he was going to do. Overall though, dialogue was great.

Action: - 6.5 Ah, a category I don’t have much to say in, possibly because not a lot of action took place up to that point in the quest. It was... good, the actions that you did. The hugging of his knees thing on the floor in Ron’s house seemed odd though.

Persona: - 5 Well, Lisean comes off as quite the odd kind of character. I can see why you would consider him limited in some ways. He comes off as depressed one second and kind of content the next second and then curling up into a ball on the ground three seconds later. I’m just not sure what to make of him and how you’re even trying to portray him, or what exactly he’s like.

Writing Style

Mechanics: - 7.5 Some of your sentences came across rather awkwardly and made little sense the way they were written, while others were missing simple words like ‘of’ and ‘the’. There were very few spelling mistakes, I think I only noticed two or three actually, and other than that, everything was well written.

Techniques: - 6 There was some great imagery used throughout the quest and your own writing technique is very vivid.

Clarity: - 7 There were a few sentences that didn’t make any sense to me, as mentioned in mechanics, and a few times where I had to read the beginning of a paragraph two or three times for it to make much sense. Other than that, everything was clear and precise.

Wildcard: - 5 I could have seen this quest scoring much higher had it actually been finished, but sadly it was not to be. Still, it was an enjoyable read up to where you stopped.

Total: 63.5

Rewards:

Lisean receives 600 experience and 115GP!

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!