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Writing Excercise: Prompt #3

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Dealthagar
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 11, 2010 7:57 pm Post subject: Writing Excercise: Prompt #3 Reply with quote

Memory - An actual character memory or past scene.

Memory: First Experience with thier chosen path.

When your character first started down thier path, what were they doing, what were they thinking, what was going on in thier life? Were they swinging a wooden stick at a tree as a child pretending to be a warrior? Did they cast that first cantrip and fall in love with the art? Did they find that secret book, and realize the power of secret lore?

What happened to make them decide "This is what I want to do"?
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The Three Truths of Singularity

Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.

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Grignag
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 11, 2010 9:17 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

In regards to their present situation or a previous one? Does it matter?
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Dealthagar
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PostPosted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 5:19 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Dealthagar hunched over his workbench. A small pile of gears, axles, sprockets, hinges and other widgets sat next to a handful of half constructed assemblies. Drayek's sandsucker worked admirably for gross clearing, but the force still damaged some of the more delicate relics hidden in the sand. A nest of sand scarabs had cleared part of the dig, claiming two laborer's lives, but the insect's ability to dig effortlessly through the sand was far more concerning to the Technocrat Primus. He had spent the last twelve hours manipulating gear ratios and drive mechanisms trying to make the most efficient replicant of the bug. They would make excellent scouts as the dig got deeper.

"The sun is nearly up. You've been down here all night."

He had been so infatuated with the drive mechanism, he hadn't noticed Ceinwyn enter the laboratory. "I am nearly done with this. I will be up soon."

"Is it critical?"

Interlacing his fingers, he rested his palms on the crown of his head as he contemplated the pile of mechanics in front of him. "Not really."

Her cool arms wrapped around him, and she kissed him between she shoulder blades. "Then you're done for now."

He smiled in pleasure as the kisses on his back and shoulders became more insistent. Her embrace grew tighter, and he realized by touch that although he was only wearing a wrap, she was wearing far less. He turned to face her, and was immediately lost in her violet eyes. "My apologies, my love. I nev..."

His atonement was silenced by a passionate kiss. His work on the translations, sorting the relics found at the dig site, and the day-to-day operations of Umbra kept his time at home short and busy. Her work to complete her task for the master of the Scholomance ate up most of her waking day. In truth, over the last weeks, they had seen very little of each other alone. A pang of guilt washed over him realizing he had spent most of a free day tinkering in his lab rather than with his consort.

Her arms enveloped his neck, and as her tongue parted his lips, he felt the beast in his chest growl in anticipation. He lifted her, and knowing this would not wait until they reached his chambers, he turned and dropped her on the stone counter. She immediately leapt from the workspace with a yelp, the force knocking them to the floor. As she hissed through gritted teeth in pain, he looked over her shoulder, to see a handful of his parts embedded into the pale flesh of her thigh.

---

Ceinwyn lay on her stomach turning a gear over in between her fingers, studying it. She flinched at the sharp pinch and heard the plunk of the part being dropped into a pewter bowl, as her lover tended to her wounds. "You really find these that fascinating?"

Dealthagar frowned. "I told you I was sorry. And yes...there is something entrancing, something alluring about the complexities and subtleness of the humble gear." She flinched again and he extracted a small cog that had buried itself deep.

"You've said that before." She shrugged. "I can see the power of technomancy. Your vats and my breeding program aren't that different. You can see all that in a gear?"

Free of the metal intrusion, Dealthagar rubbed his thumb over the wound, knitting the flesh back together, and then kissed the spot where the wound had been. "All done." She turned over, and opened her arms to him, beckoning him into her embrace. As they nestled into each other’s arms, he took the gear from her and held it up. "The gear is a symbol of destiny...of my destiny. Without it, I daresay we wouldn't be here, you here in my arms, any of this."

She rested her head on his chest sleepily, her hand caressing his stomach. "You don't think so?"

"It changed everything."

---

"Fools!" Dealthagar flung the door open, black sparks trailing from the edges of the eyeless leather mask he wore. "The future is here! A power we can be the lone masters of, and they deny it!"

Anna paused at the door, making sure none of the Order was within earshot. Dealthagar's manor was on the Southern edge of Caina, but Death knight patrols still kept the area free of rogue orcs, bandits and madmen. Closing the door, she turned to the red-clad wizard. "You need to control your temper. If one of the Ebon Council heard you..."

"I am not threatened by them." He snarled. "I am the Herald of Oblivion, the High Necromancer! I will not allow them to damn me for their lack of vision."

"They could convince Azalin to act against you." Her voice was low. "Smogg has already mentioned that it could be unhealthy for me to be associated with you."

Between the large cowl and the eyeless mask, most mortals assumed his vision was only otherworldly or limited in breadth. The opposite was true, as his surroundings were always clear to him. He watched her shuffle her feet, her subtle body language spoke volumes. She was an excellent travelling companion, and shared his enthusiasm for exploration. Was she was actually concerned for his well being? "Azalin would need to exit his crypt first. To be honest, I am more concerned with the Lord of the Death knights taking matters into his own hands. His and my relations have always been strained."

She nodded. Her hand fidgeted in her pocket. His Vision showed strands of arcane energy, loosely bound but accessible. "Anna, what do you have there?"

She smiled. "A gift." She took her hand from her pocket, and in her palm was a purple crystalline pyramid that glowed and pulsed with the energies it contained. "When we left the fortress the other night, I found this on one of the men we slew."

"Come!" He turned on his heel; he swept from the room, making a beeline to his private laboratory.

Most of his alchemical and necromantic experiments had been shoved aside after the first night they encountered Blackthorn’s forces. Handfuls of oddly etched gears and small alabaster catchebons that contained a powerful residual magical charge already sat in the midst of a dozen experiments. "This could be the keystone we were looking for."

He held out his gloved hand, and she pressed the crystal into his palm. "The bottom is the shame shape as the indent we found on that." She pointed to the mechanical gearbox they had taken from a smashed servitor. "I think it's a power source."

He smiled and pulled back a curtain, revealing a mostly reconstructed servitor. "That's exactly what it is."

Her mouth opened in shock and anticipation as he pressed the crystal into a small hatch and closed it. "I thought the Ebon Council banned you from performing the experiments on these..."

"Technomancy." His rotted flesh pulled into a wicked smile. "I call the art Technomancy, and I will not be denied." He touched several of the catchebons and the machine lit up. "Now let's see what it does." The contraption hummed for a moment before a grinding sound emitted from the chest and it turned back off. "Damnit."

"I cannot believe you have already gotten this far with it." Anna wrung her hands and her eyes darted to the windows. "It's loud."

"As long as I can make it work, I don't care how loud it is. Let it wake the dead." The ancient necromancer scowled and opened the chest casing, swinging it open like a cabinet door. "The damage we did was extensive. Most of the repairs have been guesswork." As he traced the lines and cables back to the center, he found a small cog that did not look right. Taking a thin chisel from the bench, he pulled it free.

It was a simple iron gear. Seven spokes. It seemed more ornamental that anything. Compared to the others, two of the teeth were damaged, rounded, cracked and out of square. Digging through a box of collected parts, he found a duplicate that appeared to be undamaged. Switching the axle from the damaged gear to the new one, he slid it back into the space in the chest cavity and closed the mechanism.

Touching the arcane gems again, the machine rumbled to life. "Servitor Unit HL-0341 Online. Query: Command? "

The wizard and the vixenish warrior's looks went to each other sharply. "What do you think it means?"

Dealthagar pursed his lips, regarding the machine's statement. He smiled, gambling. "Servitor, I am your master. You will protect me with all of your ability."

"Acknowledged." The machine turned to Anna, and long blades extended from its arms.

"Dealth?" Anna backed up, her hand on the hilt of her kryss.

The rictus grin returned to his face. "Servitor, stand down, she is an ally. You will protect her as well."

"Acknowledged." The blades withdrew into the arm housings.

"Go guard the front door of this structure, allow none to enter without my permission."

"Acknowledged." The machine stomped off, leaving the lab.

Dealthagar roared with laughter. Holding up the damaged gear, he rolled it between his fingers. "No weakness of flesh, no need for meat." He put the gear on a small length of chain and hung the loop over his neck. "Perfection."

---

Ceinwyn took the gear from Dealthagar. "So how did that lead you to me?"

He smiled. "Without Technomancy, I would not have left the Order. I would not have resurrected my flesh, and restored myself to life. I would not have embraced the Gargish virtues, and embraced Passion. Without Passion, I would never have felt love."

"And yet here you are again. Back in the service of Oblivion. Back amongst the Order." She pushed him onto his back and kissed his chest as she slid on top of him. "It lead you back here?"

"The gear, much like the Oruborous is a circle. The dragon eats its tail, the cycle begins anew." He lazily rested his hands on her hips. "As the gear turns, the rest of creation dances along with it. The beginning is the end is the beginning."
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity

Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.

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Grignag
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PostPosted: Fri Feb 26, 2010 4:43 am Post subject: Reply with quote

It was all a blur. How long had he spent in this wretched and lowly state since he had been driven from Minoc? How long had it been since he had lost Drynn? He had started life as a bastard child in the slums of the Underdark. A worthless slave to the tides of fate. Yet he had clawed his way up from that abyss and had managed to become someone. A male with noted potential and opportunities in a drow society. Even when he had escaped to the surface he had still been "someone". Now he had become a churl once more.

Had it been months? Years? Perhaps even decades since he had been set adrift on the world? And what did he have to show for it? Dozens if not hundreds of sexual liaisons between varying women to create so sort of army of vengeance? Was he really so stupid? In his wake, from Minoc to Trinsic lived any number of bastard children, just as he had been, all given some minor trinket by which they might come to realize the strange power of the bloodline given to them by their errant father. And now he had nothing. Nothing but his anger and self-loathing. As his mood continued to descend, his desperation had grown. In his fervent search for allies he learned of a force that he might cajole to his use. A truly mad scheme to claim the aid of a group of brutal necromancers and undead in the cold and forsaken northern rock of ice known as Dagger Island. Skulking through Moonglow and securing passage to the city of Wintermoore, Izrem made his way to the frigid isle where he set out beyond the city limits and disappeared into the snow drifts.

Weeks had passed before the foolhardy drow, who had stumbled into the cold north probably to die, heard the low and dark chants of a coven of magi and their servants on the howling winds that ripped through the dead city known as Caina. Forcing himself against the biting cold, Izrem managed to bring himself onto the threshold of a massive and imposing structure and step inside.

While perhaps it was physically warmer, in his soul Izrem was seized by a sudden chill that ripped a gasp from his lips. The chants never fell silent or even skipped a beat as the deathknight slammed his shield into Izrem's chest and pinned him against the wall. Within the deathknight's bare skull burned two orbs of arcane fire that seemed to bore into Izrem's mind, scouring it clean of pretension and trickery and placing an overpowering realization of horror in its place. He didn't know how long he was there; the deathknight never even so much as turning its skull away or showing even the slightest semblance of life. In time the chants ended and the procession exited the chamber in perfect silence. Finally, from the far end of the room strode forward a creature that threatened to turn Izrem's gasps of fear into screams of terror. The creature shared a few words with the deathknight that Izrem did not understand before the deathknight stepped back with the simple acknowledgment, "As you wish, my lord."

Izrem dropped to his knees and slowly looked up at the being. Though Izrem's senses were suddenly clearer than they had been in years, his mind could not grasp a hold of the terrifying... something... that sat behind this liches pale, glowing orbs that passed for eyes.

Izrem could barely follow most of its words as it spoke, yet still something within him stirred. A fear he had never known continued to grow as the lich spoke of Oblivion. Of the destruction and final end it brought upon everything. It understood Izrem's desire for vengeance and called it a petty thing of an ignorant mortal. It spoke of the failures of Izrem's life without ever knowing a thing about him. And after it had spoken it told him to rejoice. All of his anger, all of his pain and all of his meaningless drive for vengeance was cleansed of him. Why? Because it was all but a minor sidestory to the great tale and the final ending that was Oblivion.

"You cast aside my ideas and plans merely because they do not resonate with your own?" Izrem squeeked, barely above a whisper.

"I cast aside everything about you, as it is all about you and nothing more." the lich replied.

"I have a story, too! And it is just as grand!" Izrem managed a little louder, willing himself to shout but finding no strength there to do so.

"You say 'my' and 'I' quite a bit, drowling. Haven't you ever stopped to wonder about what lies beyond you?" it responded. "Are those that attacked you even still alive? If they aren't do their kin mean anything in your little blood feud? You might get your vengeance and then eventually die some other way. Then what? Your story ends there despite your struggles and it is soon forgotten by history. You are nothing more than a wastrel."

"N-nonsense! My legacy! It will... will...."

"Be as meaningless as your life was and be swallowed in Oblivion like everything else."

Izrem's head sank to the floor as his vision blurred. "Then... then what do I have?"

"Peace, drowling." it responded simply. "The knowledge that none of all that has happened or will happen truly matters. Everything leads towards Oblivion. You simply need take your place in it."

Peace? What a ridiculous idea. A drow did not know peace. He only knew struggle, pain, fighting, lust, betrayal and blood. Just let it all go? Because it didn't matter? How could anyone think like that? Where was purpose then?!

"You can receive this peace right now, drowling." the lich finally stated after a moment's silence had passed.

Izrem slowly looked up again, seeing the deathknight had drawn closer, its skeletal hand upon its blade.

"N-nau... nau! It is not yet time! I do not understand this 'peace' you speak of! I do not understand its purpose!"

"Then understand our purpose. I have already granted this gift of peace to you. And I will grant it to all." it replied.

"Peace... to all? You seek to spread this 'peace' everywhere?"

"Yes. Everywhere. And when it is done, those who have wronged you will be dead. Those who have ignored you will be dead. Those who have helped you will be dead. And you? You too... will be dead. But isn't that alright? All that pain flows away. All that vengeance and hatred becomes meaningless. And what is left? Peace. And I know you want it."

Izrem began to tremble as the words sank in. "I... I don't want to die here."

"That is not your choice. Death comes and takes as it pleases. Oblivion consumes all, no matter the wishes of those that oppose it. But I will not kill you here. I have already set peace within you. Now I will see if that peace spreads forth. If it does not death will claim you."

The lich stepped back and motioned to the deathknight. The undead minion strode forward and seized Izrem by the throat, dragged him to the door and tossed him into the cold. Izrem pulled his chin from the snow and peered up the steps as the lich came into view once more. "Go. Learn more on what I have taught you. You are cleansed of your failings and your pettiness. If you live, as you so seem to want to do, then I will know my time here wasn't wasted on you."

"H-how will I learn? Where will I go?"

"Oblivion guides those that know it. If you can learn to listen, you will learn all it has to teach you."

"Who... are you?"

The lich spent a moment staring down at the sprawled drow before turning and walking back inside. "Leave, now. Before I set the wraiths upon you."

The door slammed shut behind him and Izrem once again found himself alone in the cold. Pulling himself to his feet, Izrem looked around the bleak and broken landscape with a level of perceptiveness he had not recalled having in recent memory. Learn to listen? Look for peace? What did it mean? Yet as he stood there he looked within as his meditations had always taught him to do. Silence. For the first time in his life, his heart was not in turmoil. His soul was not besieged by the pains and the... the... pettiness! ...he had always known! Peace. His body was near broken and the sudden warmth within told him he was nearing death, yet he did not care. Peace.
Searching through his satchel he found his last few reagents. Enough to incant the words of recall and take him away from this place. It was a frozen wasteland and a hellhole. But it was also where he had found a font of wisdom that the world had never offered him before. As his form flitted from the island of ice and spirited him away to a place far away, he took with him that wisdom. That knowledge.

What was Oblivion? What was Entropy? What did they do and what did they mean to him? What did it mean to be a bringer of peace, as the lich had said?

He did not know. Yet. But someday, he knew he would.
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Kal'iksix
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PostPosted: Fri Feb 26, 2010 10:08 am Post subject: Reply with quote

(Taken from the actual history I posted about Kal'iksix and Q^A)

Ten long years had passed since their rejoiced arrival to the Spider City. Kal’iksix and Zul’ixiva were highly favored within the house. Deadly assassins bringing all of the Empresss’ enemies to their knees, Kal’iksix had sensed a growing disconnect to her sister. The time had come to find out why.

Zul’ixiva stepped inside the dark room, unaware of what was in store for her. She was cautious to keep quiet as to not awaken her sister as she returned from her secret meeting with the Chamberlin.

“Another late night dear sister,” Kal’iksix spoke as she slipped from the shadows directly behind her sister, “We’ve been summoned to speak with the Queen.”

Zul’ixiva swallowed hard and nodded after being surprised by her sister. The secret meetings had given her the ability to separate her thoughts from her sister’s therefore breaking their psychic bond. Zul’ixiva was escourted with Kal’iksix behind her to their communing room just off their bedroom.

Kal’iksix forced her sister to the alter and ordered her to begin the ceremony to summon a yochol to open communication with Lloth Herself. Zul’ixiva lowered herself to her knees and began the sacred chants. Once the communication was established, Zul’ixiva spoke words of praise to the Queen while Kal’iksix was able to ask for the Queen’s Blessing to guide her hand. The broken bond allowed Kal’iksix to slip behind her sister and slit her throat unnoticed. The yochol smiled down at Kal’iksix as the lifeless body slipped from her arms to the floor.

Kal’iksix wiped the blade to her spider dagger that just spilt her twin sister’s blood with a sadistic smile on her face. Anger raged within her as she thought of the ten years she and her twin were in service to a house that had long lost the Spider Queen’s favor. The Exodus of the House of Viaxus angered the Queen as the Empress’ ego grew too big for her own good. Her entire life was groomed and prepped to serve the Chamberlain and Empress, only to have her own flesh and blood scheme behind her back to draw the sole favor of the Chamberlain and the Matron Mother of the house.

Still in conversation with the Spider Queen Herself, Kal’iksix smiled coldly at her reflection in the mirror. The voice of the Queen boomed from within her head, singing her praises and lavishing favor upon the stronger of the twin girls. If a male would hear the voice of Lloth, surely his head would explode.

“Usstan uil taudl nindel Usstan paken ussta draeval xuil elggin ilta. Lu'oh gumash Usstan naut revel wun l'guthlimia d'ussta nossta. Evagna ussta usstan'sargho ussta Valsharess, ussta Ilhar.”
(I am sorry that I took my time with killing her. How could I not revel in the importance of my birth? Forgive my arrogance my Queen, my Mother.)

The reply was that of forgiveness and pride in the sacrifice of her twin sister.
“Ol zhah draeval whol dos ulu y'teni l'mzilst powerful qu'ellar wun l'phreng,” the Queen replied to her.
(It is time for you to raise the most powerful house in the realm)

Kal’iksix stopped and looked at her reflection in the mirror again. She was confused on how she was to become a Matron Mother all by herself. To start from scratch, to forget her stealthy killing and become a leader was quite foreign to her.

“Lu'oh? Usstan tlun fridj biu drolnar.”
(How? I am just an Assassin.)

“Lac doeb l'uss ul'kas Nalimar. Uk inbalus tlus houseless whol ichl verve lu'continues ulu xun Ussta Orn. Uk orn tlu dosst Ilharn.”
(Seek out the one called Nalimar. He has been houseless for too long and continues to do My Will. He will be your Patron.)

Kal’iksix frowned at this response and drove the dagger into the wall by the mirror. The thought of needing a Patron repulsed her. She was the daughter of Lloth, why should she need a pathetic male??

“Where am I to find this male?” She asked aloud.

“In the streets of Skara,” was the reply that came to her head. Kal’iksix sighed and gathered her things for the journey. She knew better than to defy the Queen and her will. She was going to have to be very wile about how she was to convince this male that she was who she was and that Lloth “hand picked” him to serve her. It was not going to be an easy task if what she knew about males was true, let alone a male that belonged to another Matron. Kal’iksix strapped her sword to her waist just in case this male needed more persuasion than normal.
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Cam
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 01, 2010 11:32 am Post subject: Reply with quote

When Camilla was a teenager, she had a group of guy friends she'd go to hang out with after her chores were done. A mini version of what she was living now, in Blackmarsh. It was always the same. There was always the wise one with all his beliefs, the arrogant one, the one with attitude and grumpiness. Groups of guys like that were always predictable, and Camilla felt comfortable with that. These teenage boys back then were a lot more wimpy than the Blackmarsh guys, even for their age. If a group of ghouls strayed from the cemetery, Camilla would have to protect them all, as they cowered with fear. They were not fighters, they were still learning their magery, and not confident in it yet.

The first time it happened, they all climbed trees to get away. They all squatted on their own branch, exchanging nervous glances with each other, hugging onto the tree for dear life. Cam just sat there wondering why she hung out with such useless, wimpy boys. She also began wondering why she chose such a high up tree branch to stand on, as the one she was on cracked under her feet. The monsters gave up and wandered in another direction, the boys began climbing down quickly.

You can imagine one boy climbing down, probably the arrogant one, because he always ends up caring the most. He's really climbing, happy to be on his way out of the tree, because he's a lot less tough than he wants people to think. Then he sees something whizz past the corner of his eye and he hears the thud of whatever it was landing on the ground. So he'd finish climbing down, and look over to see one of his friends laying unconscious.

And that is what happened to Camilla. Hitting her head on the tree on her fall down was probably what caused the head injury that took away her sense of taste. She woke up at the healers very confused, with cracked ribs, a broken wrist, and a head full of fog.

Naturally she wanted to learn to defend herself. These little boys, with their weak arms and their magic books were never going to save her ass, let alone their own. The one with the attitude and grumpiness, was also a bit of a prankster. He had a slingshot, which he used to peg stuff at Cam's window. She was sure he didn't even know how to use it properly, and if he did, he would be too scared in a real situation. She snuck it from his pocket and put it into her own. After that she started collecting pebbles, ones that stood out, that might look sharp or pointy. Not too big to be able to fling far, but not too small to not hurt. She ended up constantly walking around with a pocketful of rocks.
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