Goodbye Halcyon Days [Open]

[Slayer of the Rot]

Dan Lagh'ratham, the repentant in silence, stared towards the dull, gray sky, unmoving and unaffected for once as the world moved around him. The crew of the Yedda's Star had begun toiling not ten minutes earlier to get the ship ready for sea once more, having unloaded it's cargo without the help of it's single passenger from Alerar. His expression was one of grim tranquility; he was not pleased to be back here, but the inconvenience rolled off his back like rain drops on a metal plate. Arching his back, he drew his first breath of cooling, Coronian air, the first that is, for over a year, and adjusted his scarf, so most of his face remained hidden.

Summer was fading fast into the crisp cold of Autumn; it could be felt well here on the docks, the chilly air made chillier by the waterfront. Shrugging his tall form down, Dan dipped his bare hands into the pockets of his maroon long coat and set forward, boots thumping soundly on the dock's planks, and padding along quieter on the cobblestones of Radasanth's street.

He moved slowly through the sprawling financial district of the city, pausing often to withdraw the photograph of his daughter from his pocket, wherein it rested against his hand, the sharp corners poking against his palm. Surely Meredith, frightened of the beast that had slain her mother, would have had the good enough sense to stow away on a boat and come to Corone. Though he strongly disliked them, she had family here in the form of the Wilmhearst, and friends of her father, speckled across the countryside that she would have at least a small bit of knowledge of.

At first, the shaking of heads and apologies were met only with a disappointment. However, as the hours passed, it quickly segwayed into annoyance, and as dusk drably approached, he could feel that irritation heating into something worse. Those that he asked were in a hurry to leave to their homes, so that they may sit down for dinner. Some passed him without an answer, some with a glare, some with a curt 'no'.

"Excuse me. Have you seen this girl?" The clusters of people were thinning out, and this was the last of them he was going to ask. It was a woman, with short red hair and quick, green eyes, who stopped with an abrupt stomp, and turned to him swiftly, swinging her whole body with her.

"Listen, if you hadn't lost the little shit, you wouldn't have to bother us good people, eh? At least I can keep an eye on my daughter, you jackass!" At her mention, a little girl with hair the color of a vibrant flame peeked her cream colored little face out from behind the curtain of her mother's dress. Dan looked from the child, to the woman, who recoiled at the sight of his eyes. The creases beneath them were crinkled as his eyes narrowed to mere slits, and then snapped open, the fire in them terribly agitated.

"Go home," he hissed through closed, sharp teeth, "Enjoy your evening, and the rest of your days. You never know how short they may be..." He thrust the hand holding the photograp deep into his pocket and turned from her, grasping his forearm in his grip. The muscles were tightly bunched, solid enough that he could have sworn he was grasping the steel arm of a statue, if he had bee incoherent. His pace was brisk, carrying him on a familiar route, and soon enough, the structure loomed above him, it's shadow taking him in like the enclosing arms of an old friend.

The Citadel.

'The seal is gone, I shouldn't be having these fits anymore!' Squeezing his eyes shut tight, be jogged up the steps to the main doors and nudged one of the great wooden slabs open with his shoulder. The rage trhat had threatened darkness on the borders of his vision, seemed to cool; but instead of vanishing entirely, it coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach like a red eyed viper. Standing in the threshold of the great building, Dan let his head fall back, and drew in a great breath of air full of memories. The scent of blood lay under incense. It was not detectable to the average man, but it was simple enough for him.

Breathing softly, he finally moved forward, and though he heard nothing, a robed monk was suddenly at his side, matching his stride. "Looking to vent some late evening aggressions?"

"Yes." The answer came drawn on a long exhale, and the monk nodded. They passed five sets of doors on either side, before they both stopped at the six. The repentant turned his head to the left. "This one, yes." Opening the door, he found beyond a lazily turning, circular oaken platform in the middle of an uncountable series of intricate mechanism endlessly counting the passing of the seconds of history. Quietly, he stepped down onto the platform, feeling only slightly unbalanced as it moved beneath him, and looked up. Though most of the inside of the fabricated clock tower was gloomy and dark, a window above him allowed light to spill in, illuminating the platform upon which he stood. Dust played slowly in the glow.

"Who shall I guide your way?"

"Somone who...will not waste my time."

((I could use a nice little battle to get myself working again. Anyone can jump in here; don't be shy. This is taking place after my solo.))

[Solomon]

There was a quiet hustle about the city this particular evening. There were many people out in the streets, but their voices were hushed in their own business, and seldom was even a glance spared his way. As he walked amongst them, dodging the ones who cut off his path and refused to acknowledge what they had done, he began to liken them to mice when they know the cat is about to be let out. Were it not for their quiet aggression Solomon would have considered that a perfect analogy.

Perhaps on this day they all had important things to get to, or perhaps they had been bothered by so many strangers these days they had all just silently conceded to keep their lives to themselves, and mind only their own business. Then again, it could very well just have been the gloom of the evening, and the threat of cold and rain it seemed to carry with it. A strong easterly wind was riding in with him, and anyone who knew the land well could tell it was a sign of the changing season.

He didn't have much business in Radasanth though. He was more or less just passing through. The citizens of the city had probably guessed by his fighter's attire that he was one of the many who just came by on the way to the Citadel, and had no plans to enjoy the sights of their city, or spend any money. Maybe this also had something to do with his being treated as though he wasn't even there. Maybe they didn't want him.

"Time to get back to basics..." Solomon muttered quietly to himself, leaving the city grounds, and walking the familiar path to the citadel. The building was built for the single purpose of fighting, and for the past few days he had heard it calling to him like the voice of an old friend.

"I was trained to fight." He said to himself again. "For whatever purpose I may find for my skills, they must be ready. I was born with ability, and so it is only right that I make use of it."

He pushed his way into the citadel doors, where the familiar robed figures wandered about their duties. It didn't take long before he was summoned. Apparently someone was waiting for an opponent already, meaning he would not have to wait for a change. The monk had been speaking to an elf warrior who didn't seem to pleased at what he had to say. Once the monk's eyes had seen him though, he quickly gave him a nod from head to toe, then he excused himself from the elf and approached.

"How long can you last?" The monk asked. Solomon raised a bewildered eyebrow. He had no intention of losing.

"I can pull my own weight, and then some." Solomon answered. For a moment he had thought it was pretty smart, yet as the monk raised a bewildered eyebrow of his own Solomon began to wish he had thought of something cleverer to say. Nevertheless the Monk lead him on, and towards an awaiting challenger.

As though he had been gripped by an unseen hand, Solomon suddenly felt his heart quicken and his breath flow deeper inside of him. There was a battle ahead of him, he had to be ready. He felt himself contemplating more and more on his reason for being here. Recently he had found himself wondering what he was doing with his life, and why he bothered to fight when he never had anything to show for it in the end. After his defeat against Luc Kraus, he began to realize that he did have power, and if he wanted to he could choose to do great things with it. For all the years they trained together his father had told him to use his gifts for good, but in his years alone he began doubting what 'good' was, and what the point of it all was if he couldn't even save those he loved. However, there was something about his defeat that gave him new determination. He could 'choose' to do it. He could choose to help others if he wanted, he could 'choose' to destroy those who had done the terrible things he'd seen. There was strength in knowing that he did this because he wanted to, not because he had to.

Keep that aside. You're here to fight now, don't cloud your mind. He prompted himself, letting his mind push everything aside so that he was ready for the battle. Ready to exercise his ability, and push his power even further. There would be time to consider life afterwards, but now he had to concentrate.

"We'll see you shortly." The monk nodded, then he left promptly. Solomon didn't bother responding. It was obvious the monk knew a thing or two about the opponent beyond this door, but how much did he know about the fighter he had left standing here in the hallway? However, the monk's strange lack of hope for him made him just a little weary, but extraordinary curious. Solomon stepped inside.

Clicks, dings, and the great groans of mechanical instruments heaving over one another filled the room as he landed on the surface of the battleground, which turned around under his very feet. The light that came in through the window helped to illuminate the surroundings, however, Solomon found himself focussing only on his waiting foe. A man solid, concealed, slightly muddy, and tougher than nails!

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been waiting for over a year. If you would like to complete it, or work on it further, you can PM myself or another staff member and ask for it to be moved. However, till that time, it will be resting in the Citadel Archive forum.

Thanks,
~Task