The Desert

[None So Blind]

{closed}

The figure opened her pale eyes, confused at first and then focused with anger. Rage came naturally to her facial features, as naturally as it would come to any Drow. A rogue breeze moved a few stray strands of opalescent locks away from a scarred face. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and crossed her arms. For a moment, she was striking against the background, and then dulled for a moment as a darker figure moved beside her. Ghauntyrr'Stra Do'afin looked up to see a face that was devoid of emotions and mercy. Against a face that wasn't entirely distinguishable, pits of apathy burned where eyes should be.

"I had wondered when we would meet..." she murmured before letting the breeze stir her hair again. She thought she could feel a cool stir against her skin, but it was a mere memory against the burn within her soul. Her eyes opened, full of dissappointment, to take in her surroundings. Stretching across, red sand spilled over and over in small dunes and stretches of crimson plain. It met with a grey sky, bright and harsh, as if every grain of sand was daring those dark clouds to spill their tears upon the grounds of Murders and Lies. That connection was broken only by a single jagged summit that stretched high and pale, faded in the distance.

"This is Judgement? Somehow I expected more." The figure said nothing, but turned his gaze from her to the mountain. While she stared at that too-far destination as well, he faded away, leaving her alone. As the last of his silhouette left her side, she whispered something of her soul that left her small and shaking in the wake of it's truth.

"I don't know if I can walk this." She paused for a moment, straightened up to the dark and imposing figure she had carried in life and stated, more strongly. "I won't walk this."

"Then there's nothing left for you but to wait here." a voice said from the silence that had stared back at the Drow. "It's what I've been doing for a long time now."

[None So Blind]

For a moment, the Drowess thought she would turn to look at the voice that had spoken. Instead, the image of her eyes slipped closed and she saw the figure. The eyes, after all, were just an idea here, now that the soul had left her body. A woman stood, naked and tanned and nearly perfect in her physique. Long black hair fell around her, tumbled on shoulders, brushed against the curve of her breasts, unaltered by the breezes that swept Ghauntyrr'Stra's fine locks around. A pair of startling green eyes regarded the Drowess, black wings wafting expectingly behind her naked form.

"A demoness?" Ghauntyrr'Stra asked. She'd been told, once, when she was small, that demons couldn't die.

"No. I was a queen of a winged people. It doesn't always mean the same thing." came the reply, cheerful yet guarded. The kind voice was just an illusion, the dark skinned assassin knew. Somehow, both women could sense that illusions were the world of the other. Kindred, yet divided by basic degrees of sin, neither moved closer nor did they speak for some time.

"How long have you stood here, Queen?" The Drowess asked as she turned and took in what lay behind her. The desert stretched out, dunes upon dunes upon dunes, a distant storm of sand staining the horizon. It pulsed, menacing and fierce but Ghauntyrr'Stra could not find fear within her heart. What was the worst that coould come from the likely path? Death? She had nothing to fear from the hooded figure anymore. There was a calling from behind the rolling storm beyond, and while she was hardly loyal, the Drowess came when called. The usual problem was that terror often came hand in hand with her.

"Mere moments by my counting, but years to the mortal, to my children." The cheerful voice said as the Drow took in the possibilities. But it had melted, a bit of sorrow leaking in. So, the Drowess thought, she was dealing with an honest soul. Somehow, she hated them most of all.

"Why do you stay?" the Drowess finally asked.

"There were so many words left unspoken, deeds left undone, wrongs left unapologized for. The end.... it clarifies things for you, you know. You'll feel it too."

"That's not what I meant." the Drowess said sharply, as she took the first step towards the far-off sandstorm. After a puzzled pause from the demon, she added. "Why don't you go back?"

Natamrael had never been a fool. Her vision had been clouded, yes, by her ideals and ceremony and often by glee, but there had been intelligence there. She watched as the Drow took several more steps towards the horizon, watching as the soul struggled against what was right and just. Recognition dawned after a moment, and she started towards the darker woman, her own footsteps as difficult to take as Ghauntyrr'Stra's were. She knew she should go to the mountain, and the conscience was making it a difficult battle.

"It won't work! Don't you see the storm? Sand moving that fast could take your skin off!" Her warnings, however, were met with only a hollow laugh, one that raised the remembered hairs on the back of her neck. She'd heard that sort of voice before, from the depths of a hood that had sent her here. In this Drowess, shrouded in spectral clothes of black, she saw a glint there of an assassin she'd once faced. For a moment, Natamrael wondered who she'd bet on in a fight - Mazrith or this woman.

"Pain is of the body, Queen. We've left the body far behind us." How did she speak with those ethereal threads binding her mouth? Natamrael wondered alot of those stitches, but kept back the question. It didn't seem all that important just now. Instead, she pulled herself together enough to try and talk some sense into her.

"If it could strip your skin, think of what one of these HERE could do to your soul!"

The Drowess stopped, turning to look at Natamrael. Her hair was floating around her face now, catching the light to look almost like the white-hot fire of Hells. The face was impassive, staring, cold, for just a moment, and then that strange, stitched grin showed a flashing of teeth. It was a smile, or perhaps the idea of one, gruesomely distorted. The Drowess spoke, and after her words had died on the ghostly winds, Natamrael began to follow her towards the storm.

"Have you ever thought, my dear little Queen, that we are the kind of people who could use a good stripping?"

[None So Blind]

As Ghauntyrr'Stra continued to stride, the jerked movements of her legs showing obvious signs of strain, Natamrael clambered to catch up to her. Every step the demoness seemed to take was only sucked in by the sand, churning and pulling her feet farther. The faster she tried to move, the harder it became, and the Drow was lengthening the gap between the two. She cried out to Ghauntyrr'Stra to wait, to slow, but her pleas were ignored. After several minutes where she was sure that she'd actually moved backwards, the demoness' face contorted into something of rage and irritation. Who was she to act like a child? She was a queen, and it would be a cold day in Haidia before she would let something as simple as a mere desert keep her from her goal. Renewed with pride, her wings spread out behind her, leathery and glittering and somehow so much more impressive than they'd been under the Concordian sunlight. With a burst, she was airborne.

The sand shook from her feet, falling like golden rain over the Drow as Natamrael surged up and forwards, her fanged smile flashing with glee. She would not be held back, and her arms spread from her body as the wind caught under her wings and the current took her even higher. Beneath her, as her shadow moved over and then away, Ghauntyrr'Stra shook her head, focusing again on the storm. Her steps were difficult yes, but it was the effort that would be worth it. Her steps moved back to the Queen, a laugh bubbling up in her throat.

"Nothing in life comes easy, especially a return to it." Ghauntyrr'Stra's words died in the desert just as her prediction was born into truth.

The wind current moved rushing into the storm, and Natamrael smirked. It was a small storm, only a quarter mile wide. There was sand in the air now, gently pelting her in a weak attack, but it was just the fringes. The Moontae woman lifted one wing and dropped another, bursting with pride over her genious. The Drow could walk through the storm, and maybe not come out the other end, but she intended on skirting around the edges, letting the swirling winds themselves help her to avoid whatever nasty disaster that awaited within. For a moment, she swerved to the side, her intentions seeming to be correct, but only for a moment. Jade eyes widening, she was horrified to find the center of the storm looming closer, the wind sucking her into the very center. The sand grew angrier, and as she opened her mouth to curse, she was pulled into the darkness.

Ghauntyrr'Stra paused in her slow march, a strange smile floating over her features. How had the woman not seen that coming? The Drowess was a woman who knew what penance was, as the toll for lives she'd taken slowly built up. She'd killed women and men, children and elderly. She'd killed her infant son, her grown daughter. The Drowess was a woman who knew how the system worked, and when your sins blew like a strong wind across the Desert of Judgement, there was only the mountain or the storm. The tollbooth at the top of the mountain was the easy way, and as far as the woman was concerned, not worth a fitting end at all. Thus, her booted feet carried on, coming ever closer to the storm.

She knew she'd find the queen within the storm, though she did wonder how much of her would be left.

[None So Blind]

Here, in the light, the red sands glowed with gold fire, and for a moment, Natamrael wondered if she'd made the right choice. By all accounts, it seemed that they'd chosen Haidia over Providence, and she felt like she should weep. All these wrong decisions - in life and death - were haunting them now. She struggled against the tide of grain that was pulling her down, her fingers shredding away on compressed layers that were becoming heavy as lead. Her lungs choked against truths, each morsel of sand stinging like all the pain she never knew she'd inflicted on other people. And then - for just a moment - she felt another's hand on hers. It was lost after a moment, but there! Triumph soared through her and she began to sieve sand under her feet, desperate to get just one more step above where she'd been. For a moment, doubt stole the elation as a small voice told her that she was only making matters worse. But then, it came again, in a grip that held.

Her shoulders ached as she was hauled upwards and she wondered what face would be before her when she rose. Findelfin? She'd felt his presence near to her lately in the void, though she'd been sure that if it had been anything, it would have been his thoughts for her. Devon? She'd wept when she found out that she'd seduced him. They'd been allies - though she was sure he'd never heard of her much less seen her - and she'd lied to him to get him to bed her. The story of the angel had been particularly good, she'd thought, but then she regretted it afterwards, something that had never happened to her before. The red spilled away over her and as she blinked the sand out of her eyes, she found that she was in the eye of the storm now. Bits of sand fell like gentle snow, and the wind pulled and roared but it was nothing compared to the rage that had pulled her in.

The grip on her hand let go and she saw now who her saviour had been.

"There is no such thing as an easy way here. Just remember that and we'll be fine." the Drowess growled, turning to traverse the rest of the storm. She dissappeared into a current of ruby shadow, leaving the demoness to stand alone, and stand she did for a moment, her eyes wide. Then, as the eye moved with the winds, she too fell into the current.

Fear stole into Natamrael's heart. Would the storm have her at it's mercy again? To drown in the pain her actions had caused had been horrible, but she'd been freed. So she, mimicking the Drowess, took a step. Her muscles screamed to seize up, to keep her from following Ghauntyrr'Stra, but she prevailed. And after the first step, the next seemed easier, almost. Ducking her head, Natamrael focused on taking her steps, ignoring her internal questions on what might come next for them.

===


"Waela nek..." The Drowess spat as she sat waiting. She wasn't sure why she had stopped. Once out of the storm, she could see where the winds had swept away some of the sands to reveal a cobbled road, broken as it was, that led into a city. She could see something glowing on the horizon, in the gap between two of the decrepit buildings. The rustle of the sand, different than when it was whirling about in the vortex caught her attention, but she refused to look back.

"You waited..." a voice stated behind her. It was hopeful, and put Ghauntyrr'Stra ill at ease. If she had wanted to babysit, she would have stayed in the land of the living with the Brotherhood. These bitter thoughts were only strengthened as a shaking hand fell on her shoulder. "I wanted to thank you." the woman said, and something vile rose in the Drowess. She stood, jerking her shoulder from Natamrael's grasp. Pale eyes finally fell on the demoness in disdain and the stitching on her face twitched as her mouth rose in a sneer.

"I know how whores say their thanks." she growled. "But, if you're the only spirit I've come across out here, then it doesn't make sense to leave you behind. Just walk, and no more foolish mistakes." Ghauntyrr'Stra stood as she spoke, and began to stride away. She had taken no more than three steps when a body -was she really dead? It felt so real! - barrelled into her, sending her flying across the cobbles.

"What is WRONG with you!?" the women shouted at each other in unison. Natamrael swung, though this time Ghauntyrr'Stra was ready. She grabbed the woman's arm and flung her to the ground, planting her foot between the flailing wings. They were dry and bloody from the sandstorm they'd endured and a feeling of disgust so strong came over the Drow that she almost released the woman to be farther from her.

"There is nothing wrong with me." the statement was sharp, fact rather than opinion in the darker woman's mind. "I do not tackle people for no reason."

"I had a reason!" came the muffled cry from under her feet, and a jerk that told her Natamrael was trying to throw her off balance. She grabbed one of the cracking wings and dug sharp claws into it until from under her boot, the other woman's voice broke in mid-scream.

"Somehow that is doubtful." came the quiet response before Ghauntyrr'Stra surrendured the wing and shifted her weight so that Natamrael was released from under her foot just before she was kicked in the side. "Don't do that again."

Once more, the Drowess turned from the demoness before beginning to walk as if the creature behind her was no threat at all. A grim smile tugged at her mouth at the profanity she was leaving behind. It didn't matter that she was cruel. She knew the woman would follow. In Ghauntyrr'Stra's eyes, she was a dog that would be no worse for a good kicking.

In Natamrael's eyes, it was time to bite the hand that fed.

[None So Blind]

From afar, the city had looked well kept. The outskirts held the taller buildings, stores upon stores, long empty, towered across the skyline. They were built of clay brick the same peculiar golden red of the sand, and in the dying sun they seemed to be burning. While they had walked, the sun had climbed to the highest point, and then began to sink again. It seemed to Ghauntyrr'Stra that the closer they got to the strange glow, the more the day progressed. As logical as it sounded to say out loud, she knew that if they stopped walking, the day would stop as well, and there was little sense in that. The darkness would come at the end of their journey, just as they'd been borne to this place by the darkness of their souls. A grim sneer crossed the Drowess' face. She was waxing philosophical, and she hated it. She wasn't a poet or songstress, she was Drow. It was high time, she decided, to begin acting like it.

What had led to her strange end?

It was a question she'd so often asked herself as she walked along the broken road. Lately she'd been coming to the conclusion that it was her gender. She was a woman, and had been a mother, and subject to those feelings of caring that a sense of family so often brought on. She was quite sure that had she been male, she'd have killed everyone in the Brotherhood and then the world. It was just a matter of putting her mind to it. The footsteps that had been so sure until now faltered for just a moment as a feeling of dread stole upon the dark elf. Clenching her hands, Ghauntyrr'Stra decided that if she came back as a woman again, she'd just have to kill herself, and that was the end of that.

Natamrael, on the other hand, had also done some soul searching, but had come up with a far different conclusion. She knew she'd been a terrible mother and leader, often ignoring any other opinion or feeling than her own. She'd thought, in her life, that she'd always done the best for all, but underneath the sun, her soul opened raw from the deceptions she was skinned in, it was coming through just a little more clear for the demoness. There would be big changes when she got back to the realm of the living, she decided. The first, she thought, would be the destruction of the dark elf. Surely that wouldn't be so much of a sin as a favor to all living creatures?

Both lost in contemplation, they entered the quiet city, walking past the outlaying buildings until they came to a large square. There was a fountain of blood in the very middle of it, and the centerpiece of the top tier was an hourglass filled with the desert's sands. Perched on the top sands was a small egg, and it sank lower as the sand fell through to the bottom and dissappeared. The bottom bell held nothing, even though the top was rapidly emptying. The passage between the two ends was large enough, however, for the egg to pass through easily. As the last grains fell into an abyss, the egg dropped, hit the bottom and cracked open.

The women looked at each other for a moment in disbelief before turning back to the fountain. The blood had stopped flowing down the tiers and they watched as it seeped from the bottom pool and materialized inside the bottom bell, flowing around the disintegrating egg.

"This is usually the time to run," Natamrael said breathlessly, looking around with a real horror.

"Then run, nadorhuan, but for me, I'll stay and fight!" the Drowess exclaimed, her fists clenching. Step by step, she approached the fountain and stepped on the rim that surrounded the empty lower pool. As the hourglass exploded in a shower of sparks and fire, Natamrael turned and ran just in time not to see the dragon of Time and Blood.

[None So Blind]

While when it had been born in the hourglass, the dragon's skin had been soft, the blood pulsing just below the surface, it was quickly hardening. The Drowess' eyes widened and she struck. Jumping forward, she clung to the creature's chest, staring up at the head that loomed so high above. Claws scraped down her back, not hard enough to cut but certainly enough to hurt. The woman wrapped her legs around the chest of the thing and began to use one balled up fist to pound on it's chest, to no avail. She wished she had her daggers, but there was truth to the phrase "You can't take it with you."

Just when it seemed that her beating was producing results, a few marks of blood on her fist and the enraged cries of her victim, a clawed hand closed around her and she found herself ripped from the dragon's body and flung like a piece of garbage. She hit the side of a building hard, and went down for the moment cursing this place and the useless demoness who'd gotten away. At the fountain, the dragon stretched, fully calcified. He scraped long claws across the clay brick under him, leaving long pale marks and then turned an evil grin towards Ghauntyrr'Stra's soul.

Natamrael still raced between buildings, on the edge of tears. She didn't know where she was going or what she'd left behind, but she knew she needed to get out of here quick. As she burst out of one alleyway, a glow caught her eye. She slowed and then ducked into the doorway where it came from. When she focused on the center of the room, she gasped, and the door behind her closed of it's own accord.

The beast had her again. There was something awfully comforting about it's claws, Ghauntyrr'Stra mused. It was like those last seconds of life. No matter how long you wanted to stay in that realm, the claw of Death closed around you and cradled you into the afterlife. For now, the dragon was content to look at her, as if it were summing her up. It always made the woman uncomfortable to be stared at and when the eyes were as large as her head, it made it seem even worse.

"Vel'bol!?" she finally shrieked, pounding at the fingers that were snuggly closed around her torso. A booming echo laugh filled her senses and she realized after a moment of disorientation that the dragon had understood her. "Vel'bol l'uoi'nota ph'dos lorith a?"

Ol uriu tlus natha verve draeval yol usstan inbal nym'uerus l'wiles d'Alerar. Dosst lodias ph'l'valyrin ulu alu llentol ulu khlurysten. Tesso uns'aa, lotha Ilythiiri, ele xun dos daewl ulu dro ji mzilt?

She thought on this for a moment, before crossing her arms. "Ussta elghinn zhahus l'xund d'lil waele. Usstan tlun ruebusu alur."

The dragon began to laugh, a sound that reverberated through the air and made Ghauntyrr'Stra feel as if she were part of it as well. Just as he moved to set her down, blood exploded from his chest, showering the Drowess and as she caught the glint of metal within the shower, the dragon fell forward. He released Ghauntyrr'Stra and she rolled to the side, staring in horror as he fell. Behind him, holding a spear that was taller than she was, with a strange look of detatchment on her face, Natamrael stood. Ghauntyrr'Stra hissed at the woman and moved to attack her, but found the spear placed at her neck.

"Don't get mad at me! I saved you!" the demoness proclaimed, the spear shaking, even though she refused to move it.

"You moron! You killed the most intelligent conversation I've had in ages!" She paused in her tirade, looking over at the fallen body of the dragon. The blood was seeping into the ground and she looked over to the fountain. The hourglass had managed to repair itself, and the top glass was stationary, filled with sand. On the sand, a tiny egg was perched. Slowly, the blood again began to flow from the top tier of the fountain. "What is that thing made of?" Ghauntyrr'Stra asked again, with a measured calmness. Natamrael pulled back the weapon, staring at it.

"I don't know. I don't really know anything about weapons. To tell the truth, when I saw that thing had you... the spear did most of the work."

"Yes, apparently."

{What!? What the hell are you looking at?
It has been a long time since I have heard the words of Alerar. Your people are the kind to go quietly to judgement. Tell me, little Drow, why do you wish to live so much?
My death was the work of idiots. I am owed better.}

[None So Blind]

As she stood by it, the body of the dragon began to crumble into the red sand that filled the desert they'd come from. A warm wind began to blow, sweeping away the dust, until the square was as clean as it'd been when they entered. Ghauntyrr'Stra looked up at the demoness, and reached for the spear. Instinctively, Natamrael drew back, clutching it for dear life.

"Just hand it over," the Drowess said with a grimace. "I only want to look at it."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, and Ghauntyrr'Stra took it, running her hand over the shaft. She eyed the blade, stepping back and took a few practice swings with it. On the third, she turned suddenly, lunging at Natamrael. As the demoness stepped aside with a strangled cry, she stared in horror as the demoness stopped in her movement, sweat beading on her forehead. The blade was mere centimeters from Natamrael's face, and it seemed to sing in the air, strangely comforting and threatening at the same time.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Natamrael screeched, scrambling back from the other woman. When she was out of reach of the spear, Ghauntyrr'Stra relaxed, breathing, and straightened up. As she wiped the sweat off her brow, she stared in wonder and fear at the weapon in her hands.

"It wasn't me. You were right when you said the spear does the work. I think it needs to kill. Where did you get it from?"

"I found a room with a glowing door in the middle. When I opened the door, it was just hanging there, so I grabbed it and felt like I needed to come back. Why?"

"I could be wrong, keep in mind, but I am from Alerar."

"Yes, I believe you are. So?"

"Alerar is a land of machinery and weaponsmiths. From Drow artificers to dwarven blacksmiths, metal is what we deal with alot."

"Yes....so?"

"I know my metals, and I believe that this is adamantine." This drew a look from Natamrael, who'd begun to look around the square for clues of where they should go next, but she merely shrugged and turned away again.

"I don't see why that's so important," the demoness said, "There doesn't seem to be any merchants around we could sell it to anyway, and in this place it might be a cheap commodity."

"Yes, but we don't intend on staying around here, and we'll need weapons when we get back." Spear still in hand, Ghauntyrr'Stra began to wind her way through the buildings, towards the far side of the city. She had been so sure that'd been where the light had come from. With a sigh, Natamrael followed her closely, her arms crossed and a puzzled expression on her face. "There are more things in the world than battle, you know," the Moontae queen muttered under her breath. She nearly walked into the back of the Drowess as Ghauntyrr'Stra stopped and turned around.

"My sweet Queen," the woman said with a malice that took Natamrael's breath away, "battle is the only world I've ever known, the only world worth knowing."

[None So Blind]

"Spirits above, do you have to be so intense?" Natamrael shook her head, and walked past Ghauntyrr'Stra. "You need a trip to Concordia, I know that much. I mean, we don't normally let people come into the village, but you are the one person I'd say needed to unwind for survival."

"Unwind?" Ghauntyrr'Stra sneered and shoved the demoness against a wall. Her fingers wound Natamrael's dark hair around her fist and as she used a knee to keep the woman against the brick, she pulled her head back so that her lips could brush the captive woman's ear. "Is that what your people call it? You know what the Drow call it? Ssindossan! Whores! You are a slave to the vices of your flesh! Your name isn't important to me; now you are rothe ulu l'siltrin!"

The Drowess reached around, raking her nails down the demoness' abdomen to the warmer places between her legs. After a moment, Natamrael shuddered, bucking her hips against the brick. As Ghauntyrr'Stra pulled her head back farther, the Moontae woman moaned, her wings flexing weakly. "You see that?" Ghauntyrr'Stra hissed. "You hate me, but you can't fight - you're too far gone into the pleasure." She pulled her hand back, and used her fisted hand to jerk the demoness back and toss her to the ground.

"That isn't a kind of freedom, you little ssindossan. That is a cage worse than being trapped in this stars-forsaken place. That is a weakness that is deplorable."

Natamrael stood slowly, brushing the dirt off her legs as she did. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, dark elf. You live life half dead."

"I may have in the last life." Ghauntyrr'Stra said quietly as she began to walk again, "I lived my life to assist others, in the end. This time will be different. This time I'll bring death to myself if I call another moron an ally."

"Without the warmth of others, what life is worth living?" Natamrael asked, nearly shaking from anger as she followed.

"Without the mistakes of others, a good one!" The Drow cried as she came to a stop. She seemed to be shaking now, and Natamrael fell quiet as she watched for several moments. Finally, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"It won't let me go further."

"What won't?"

"This damned spear! Step back!" She lashed out at the demoness, shoving Natamrael down as the spear lept from her hands and rushed down the street, flying through the air as straight as any arrow. Ghauntyrr'Stra stood still, staring at it's fleeting image with a look of holy anger on her face. Natamrael, however, was too entranced with what lay just around the bend.

"Is that another doorway?" she asked.

[None So Blind]

"Eh?" Ghauntyrr'Stra turned around, looking around the corner at what the demoness was now pointing to. The streetways opened up into another square. The doorway that she'd referred to was a light that seemed to hang in the air over a small pool of water. It had an odd depth to it, as if it were shining inward instead of out. The women looked at each other for a moment, and then approached it cautiously.

"Is this like the door you saw earlier?" Ghauntyrr'Stra asked, wondering if more weapons could be gained through the portal.

"No, not at all. This seems more... important."

"I see... I wonder how it chased away the spear?"

"Well," the demoness said, crossing her arms as she stared at the light. Strangely, it didn't hurt her eyes like she thought it should. "You can't take material things with you into the spirit world. If you could, I'd have my weapons and I'm sure you'd have yours. If this is the way to the land of the living, then you wouldn't be able to take things from here over to there, right?"

For a moment, neither seemed to be able to move. They stared at each other, and then back at the portal again, before bursting into movement, in synchronization. Both were determined to get to the portal first, and both were determined to leave the other behind if it were at all able.

As the two hit the portal, they were surprised to find a real heat within the light.

Natamrael embraced it, letting it soak into her skin. She closed her eyes and laughed as she felt her body being jerked away from the dry heat of the evening desert and into a liquid warmth. She wanted to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy. Instead, she sighed to herself, and let rest steal over her. Her last thought was of flying, of freedom, of laughter.

As the heat hit Ghauntyrr'Stra, she shut her eyes. Now in the light, it burned her skin, her vision. She howled in anger, and curled up into a ball as she was ripped from the square. She could feel that horrible warmth trying to invade her. It wanted to take her over, fill her up until all she knew was the drowzy heat. It was worse than sex, she decided, and instead of letting it take her away, she fell into herself, erecting walls of ice around her mind, her soul. She knew the warmth wasn't happy with this, and she laughed at it. She would not be taken over by the magic, she would weild it. Reaching out into the ether with her icy hands, she let the power of her hate fuel a weapon to strik back against the magic. The warmth she'd felt try and mold her receeded, and now in her hands she knew she held the power to bring herself to life. Her last thought was of vengeance.

As sunlight fell through verdant leaves in a Raiaeran forest, it framed a well. It was made of old stone, smoothed by the passage of time. The top had long rotted off and no bucket lay nearby. In a hurried elven script, the well had been marked "poisoned - avoid!" but nonetheless, an elven guard stood nearby. He turned when there was a loud splash from inside the well. He took a step forward, and then leapt back when a bird burst from the well, soaking wet and panicked. He watched as it soared to a nearby branch and set about twittering and hopping through the foliage.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the well - just in time to be overcome from the darkness that exploded from it next.

[None So Blind]

The elf now looked up at his attacker. A Drow man stood, naked, by the edge of the well. His skin was darker than the midnight skies over Salvar, though he could barely tell that the water that drizzled down his body was tinted with a ruby hue. A pair of golden eyes stared him down, without mercy or care. Silver hair clung to his skin, down his back, and a trail of matching curls tangled down his stomach. The elf averted his eyes, then, preferring modesty over survival.

The Drow moved in a flash, striking out with his foot, pinning the elf down by his throat. As the elven guard clutched at his leg, flailing out to try and strike his kneecap, the Drow shifted, pulling all his weight on the foot that was crushing the elf's throat, using his heel to grind the point home. The elf's hands fell limp at his sides, tears streaming down his face, and then he was gone. The bird in the trees was even angrier now, screaming a song of fury.

"Do not be angry, Queen. He is in the desert now, walking with the dead." The Drow leaned down, rolling the body of the elf around a few times until finally he sighed. "Unfortunately, he was too small in stature for his clothing to be useful."

You are just compensating for your lack of soul! Natamrael's voice rang through the trees, assaulting the Drow's mind like a tiny thunderstorm.

"The Queen finds her voice, it seems." The Drow remarked quietly, as he stretched, looking down at the view below and giving the bird a wink. "And as for compensating, would you rather me be as pitiful as our dead friend here but full of soul? That wouldn't be fun at all." The Drow flexed his fingers, watching the tendons move under the skin. The jump in power from the last body was amazing! In wonder, he laughed. "There is so much to be done, little Queen."

As he began to stalk into the forest, he paused, looking back at the bird.

"Why are you..." a grin stretched across his face, cheshire and evil. "Are you my familiar now?"

I am not yours! Don't ever call me yours, and don't think I'm going to stay around here, Ghauntyrr'Stra!

"No, that name isn't mine anymore, little Queen." The man seemed thoughtful for a moment and then he turned back to the bird. "I will take the name Kor, this time. A strong man's name. And you are mine, little Queen. I know it, as much as I know that we are again in the land of the flesh."

No, never!

The grin still gracing his features, the man held out his hand to the bird. "Come to me, Queen." The bird let out a loud twitter, a sob of her species. "Come to me." He repeated himself stronger, his hand still outstretched. After a moment's more of battling it, the bird came, lighting upon his hand with the sorrowful tune issuing from her breath. His fingers wrapped around her body and he squeezed, only gently enough for the little bird to catch her breath and stare at him in disbelief.

"Little Queen, you cannot disobey me, even if you wanted to. But remember this: if you ever conspire against me, I will kill you. It will be slow, and painful, and far more terrible than anything we saw on the other side. If you doubt me, you only have to say, and I'll give you a taste right now. Now.... I need clothing. Let's go see what these new bodies will do."

Natamrael looked into the eyes of the man, and she knew the power of fear.


{For the spoils of this quest, I'd like to redo my level four profile.}

[Letho]

“Welcome to the desert of the real.” :cool:

Judgment time!


CONTINUITY – 6

It wasn’t easy to determine the right score for this aspect of the quest, I have to admit. While I understand (and applaud) the attempt to make the things as confusing as they ought to be when one would transcend from the world of the living into whatever lay beyond, I feel that you went a bit overboard with it. Perhaps it was just the rustiness that made it seem so, but I was really left with a giant question mark above my head during the first two posts. In fact, it took some deliberation for me to understand that Ghaun was actually dead. Of the backstory which led her to this set of events in the afterlife I got only bits and pieces, and that goes for both characters. While you didn’t have to elaborate on that immediately, you should’ve clarified at least some of it. Basically, you established the fact that they were both dead quite well, though why and how were the questions left pretty much unanswered.

SETTING – 8

Straight away, I’m going to say that I loved the setting. The mysterious wasteland somewhere beyond the reality seems like the perfect environment for the Judgement, and you not only described it quite well, but you interacted with it both realistically and obscurely, the way it ought to be done in such a place. Usually, deserts aren’t the most benevolent settings when it comes to description, but with the ghost city and the creepy fountain, you managed to pull it off rather well. Though, this wasn’t flawless, hence the 8. At times, you seemed to get sloppy with the setting, almost as if you didn’t feel like writing about it. The most notable place where this happens is when Natamrael runs away from the dragon and stumbles upon a spear. Now, I understand that an abandoned city isn’t exactly the most colorful place ever, but neither is the desert and you managed to nail that rather well. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you should try to find a certain balance when it comes to the setting.

PACING – 7

Well, it didn’t move without certain hiccups, I’ll say that much. I already mentioned the beginning that was sort of tapping in the dark. And while that’s not a mistake in this instance, the whole things started to move rather fast after that. Ghaun and Nata are suddenly charging into the storm together even though (if I understood it correctly) they never knew each other before. How come they rendezvoused in the Desert anyways? Also, there was this one introspective post that sort of stood out in both a good and a bad way. It’s the fifth one, where you give a quick résumé of both women. It was a good, but abrupt, insight into their histories. Perhaps a more gradual approach to the introduction of there facts would work better, where you kind of spill bits of pieces of the history through the narrative and let the reader pick them up. However, due to the fact that most people make their reincarnation a mere paragraph in their level update, I gave an extra point here.

DIALOGUE – 6

Rather befitting the characters most of the time. The difference between the harsh drow bitch and the somewhat more benign moontae is clearly discernable in the dialogue. My biggest remark goes to the fact that sometimes I didn’t know which line belonged to who and I had to double back and read through certain parts again. I don’t think is a real flaw in your writing though; I attribute it to the rustiness and the eagerness to make the story move on further. Also, the little chat with the dragon was a bit strange, if not out of place. Though it was never finished due to Nata’s intervention, so I guess we’ll never know.

ACTION – 7,5

Very nicely done. Ghaun is a ruthless bitch with an iron determination and her actions prove it as well. You make it rather clear that there is no soft spot when it comes to her, and that the softest she gets is rescuing Natamrael from the storm, and only because they were the only two souls present. Nata seemed to act in accord with her demeanor as well, though I was rather confused when she tackled Ghaun out of nowhere. Perhaps there was a reason for that, but it was never elaborated on. Also, keep in mind that action doesn’t concern just the PCs in the quest. Here, the Dragon of Time and Blood had a rather vague role and fell victim to the pace of the thread.

PERSONA – 7

Well, you certainly know your characters well, but I think you’re in better touch with Ghaun then with Nata. While the drow seemed consistent throughout the thread, Natamrael seemed to move from this bland naked demoness at the beginning to the surefooted one that makes a misstep and steps into the storm and then finally becomes utterly reluctant. Perhaps that’s the way she was supposed to be, I don’t know, I just felt that there were fluctuations when it came to her. Also, you could work on your presentation of persona a little bit, introducing it little by little, especially in these quests where two characters come together out of the blue.

MECHANICS – 8

There are indeed some traces of rustiness, though not as much in Mechanics section as in the Technique I feel. As far as the Mechanics are concerned, everything seems to be pretty much in order. You’re a skilled writer and it shows, the mistakes are few, and they are mostly typos that we all tend to overlook even if Word underlines them with a wavy red line. Here and there, there’s a case of a misused word, but nobody’s perfect. All in all, a solid piece of writing.

TECHNIQUE – 6

The score doesn’t reflect the lack of technique as much as an occasional misuse of it. There were several times where I noticed some serious repetition, especially in the initial posts, where a lot of things “stretched” from somewhere to someplace else, and where you used the same phrase twice in the same sentence (“For a moment, she was striking against the background, and then dulled for a moment as a darker figure moved beside her.”) While there is nothing wrong with the sentence structure, using the same phrase twice makes it look a bit sloppy. This, however, stopped appearing as the story moved along, but it’s still something to keep an eye out for. I would like to see a bit more flair in your writing, but I think that would come with time as get back into writing on Althanas again.

CLARITY – 7,5

Again, nothing terribly wrong here. Confusing eerily place has to put a certain veil in front of the reader, otherwise it’s just bad writing. You seemed to find a good balance here, revealing as much as it was needed when needed, yet leaving other things mystic. Your style is brief and clean, making the reading quite enjoyable. If you spiced it up a little bit, the marks will go up as well.

WILD CARD – 7

The whole reincarnation through the wasteland ordeal with dimensional doors like the ones in Stephen King’s “The Dark Tower” was a nice idea. It gave the whole rebirth of Ghaun as a man a good background that made sense. Shame Natamrael is a bird now. She was the nice one.



TOTAL SCORE – 70

Congratulations!!!



SPOILS:

None So Blind receives 2000 EXP. She also finds a small coin pouch on the dead elf with 100 GP in it.

The level redoing, though unconventional, seems ok with me given the IC reasons, though the RoG has the final word on that.


EXP/GP added!