From: Kenneth William Flynn Subject: 9th level priest Date: Sun, 12 Feb 1995 19:09:16 -0500 (EST) I. Zakita didn't remember the name of the village. He didn't know anyone who lived there. He barely even knew where he was. The village was just like the last ten (no, eleven, or was it thirteen?) they had raided. The tall comfortable houses of the elves, the peaceful little chimminies, and the families. They were so happy. Why couldn't I just wait here and join them, he thought. Zakita was tired; tired of the killing, the looting, the hate. Zakita was tired of being a "guardian of Whitefang's peace." Zakita looked up at his Captain, a thick muscled man lacking his left eye. He didn't wear a patch as most victims of the Demtoks did; instead he blatenly displayed his scar, pointing it out as he inflicted his pain upon others. Zakita hated his Captain, as did a few others of the troops. The remainder served loyalty, for the opportunities their tasks provided. Zakita would never take advantage of his opportunites, as was outcast by the band, except for his one friend, Jutira. Jutira was nowhere to be found however. Grunting as he heaved the body of a young elf out of the street, the Captain called Zakita's name. "Move this drakath out of my way," he cursed in orcish. Zakita had long wondered where the Captain had learned such a brutish language, but then Zakita wondered many things, least of all why they did what they did. The Captain called again, swearing profusely. As Zakita approached he turned and paused in his walk. "What took you so long?" "Sorry, sir. Just trying to get my bearings." "Never mind where you are pukath, see that temple up ahead? The big thing with the dome on top? Is it too small foryou to notice? That's where we're moving? Comprehend, getath?" "Yes, sir," Zakith said turning to those behind them "To the temple!" --- Inside the temple, all was chaos. The word had come by runner that the town was finally being besieged by Whitefangs army. It was not unexpected, and many preparations had been made. Most of the essential supplies had been moved to wagons, the hospital dismantled, and the library safely packed away. But, the remaining followers were panicking. Timore was swept up in a group running for the exit, as he attempted to wend the way to his room. Shoving the poor people aside, he finally struggled to the side of the passageway, and grapped some breath. At the end of the hallway, he saw the object of his search, his bride-to-be, Urynisa. Panting, he called out to her, but she could not here him over the noise, as a fresh mob entered from the chapel proper. Unfailingly, Urynisa's sharp eye picked him out of the crowd, and she gestured towards the chapel. He nodded, and began threading his way there. It took about ten minutes, but he managed to make it to the chapel's door. Inside, he gestured towards the altar, and went to sit beside his beloved. "How long till they reach here?" she asked. "About another hour or so, the townsfolk are defending themselves well." "Why does it have to be this way? Must so many die?" Urynisa was an apprentice nurse in the hospital. One day she would probably become the greatest doctor the church had ever seen. All her teachers were consistenly amazed by her talents. The wounds she saw every day had failed to desensitize her to the brutality of war. "They must make a token effort. It is their oath. I should be out there with them!" Timore was a church defender, a cleric trained in war. Young and impulsive, he felt the rush of battle in his veins, and wanted to join those outside in the defense of the town. Urynisa, put her hand on his arm. "You mustn't, Timore. We should be going. One day we will strike back at Whitefang, and put an end to the suffering he's caused, but not today. You would only get yourself killed! We suffered too many loses already." He felt it then, a strange premention, a feeling that his loses hadn't yet begun. --- Outside at the entrance, the Captain cut down the last of the temple's defender's. They had snuck around the side of the town, away from the main battle. The Captain seemed intent upon the church, as if its mere presence, it towering dome, pained him. Jutira walked up beside Zakita. "We can leave you know." "Yes." "Don't you want to go?" "I swore loyalty. I said I would do my duty." "Is killing defenseless children your duty?" she said pointing at a child fleeing from their advance. "Is this what you swore to do?" "Where could we go?" "There's another elf village about two leagues west. I haven't seen it on any of our maps. It's small and isolated; the Captain would never find us there!" "I want to go with you, but how could we possibly get away? They don't trust us. They know you don't enjoy their pleasues, and neither do I. They watch us constantly!" "We'll find a way." "Find a way to where?" asked the Captain hitting Zakita sharply in the back. "What do you think this is? Small talk hour? Get your atata moving!" They walked into the temple, and were faced with a corridor, branching in two. The building, roughly circular was bisected by the central hallway, which ran down underneath the chapel room, centered under the dome. They proceeded right at the Captain's direction, towards the Chapel's east entrance. The passageway to the west obviously had been sealed recently, probably to lead attackers around. The Captain stated loudly that they would be unexpected. Taking the lead, he burst into the chapel. Two elves stood up to greet him. --- Timore heard the noise in the corridor, and was preparing to hide, when the door burst in. Grabbing Urynisa by the hand, he pulled himself up. Unarmed in the holy chapel, he feared he had no chance, but perhaps he could distract them while Urynisa escaped. It was not to be. Immediately two of Whitefang's troops move across the room to cover the west exit, while the remainder advanced on him. An ugly man in front approached him directly, and told him to stop. Timore saw the missing eye, and was afraid. Timore was rarely afraid. The emotion was so new to him, he paused to analyze it. Perhaps, he just froze; perhaps he couldn't move. Neither could Urynisa. He was on the ground before he realized it. Two guards hauled him to his feet. Urynisa attempted to struggle, but was whipped across the face with an axe butt. "Whoa, mustn't damage the goods...not yet anyway. I hate bruised toys!" "What are you going to do with us?!" Timore screamed. "You, I'm going to impale on my sword, right after we have some fun with your girlfriend here? Care to watch? Perhaps, you'll like it? I doubt many of your church atatas would know much about what we're going to do!" Timore screamed, but he was held immobile. Ever so slowly, the Captain cut away Urynisa's robes. She screamed, once, and then was silent. Timore closed his eyes, he couldn't bear to watch, but the Captain saw, and one of the guards pried them pack. "Watch, you pukath! Watch!" Timore lost himself. Tearing himself free, he grabbed a sword from one of his attackers. Unprepared for the ferocity of his attack, they fell back after seeing one of their ranks lose his head. The sound on the floor of the holy chapel was sickening. It skidded across the floor to land face up below the altar, staring blindly at the symbol of Good on the altar's side. The Captain swore, and grabbed Urynisa, and headed for the door to the west. Timore severed first an arm, and then a finger of another guard. The remainder seemed to be recovering. --- Zakita standing by the west door with Jutira say the Captain approach, carrying the young woman. One look passed between them, and they stood to block his approach. The Captain snarled, and tossed the woman's inert form at them. The body slammed into them, and Zakita lost his sword. Jutira managed to hold on to hers, and stood to face the Captain. One swipe of his sword, and she fell forward, gasping at the intestine dangling from her midriff. Zakita fled. Behind him, he heard a woman scream. The tunnels were confusing, and he wondered for a long time before he found a door outside. He had no idea how long he had been searching the halls. Stumbling outside, he saw the sun setting upon the trees of the forest. Running blindly, he crashed through the brush at the edge. Tripping and falling from the concealed tree roots, his face stung by low hanging branches, he finally came to a clearing. He collapsed, bruised, beaten, and exhausted. --- Timore stood looking down. The blood was literally running on the floor, on him, on the altar, on the pews, on everything. The sword fell from his hand. Kneeling he reached down to pick it up, and noticed, covered in blood, Urynisa's necklace, lying under it. He grabbed both, and stood. The west door was unblocked. The floor in front was stained with gore. He slipped and fell to the ground. In front of his eyes, he saw intestine. Jumping to his feet, he ran through the door, into Ratok. "Stop, Timore, stop!" "She's gone!" "They took her to the forest, Timore, she's dead!" "We must find her, and bring here back then!" "We'll look for her, the attack is over. We'll find her." "Who will bring her back? Where's Turipo?" "Turipo is dead, Timore." Timore fell to his knees in front of the altar. No one else in the church was strong enough to bring back those who had passed. Turipo had founded this church on the spot where he resurrected his daughter, twenty years ago. Timore had no doubt Urynisa was dead, he had never known the Captain's kind to leave their victims alive. He must find the power within himself. He began to pray. --- Ratok stood staring at Timore, coated in blood, praying. Ratok had come here to find peace, and all he had was war. The room was horrible, profaned. The head by Timore's feet stared straight into Ratok's eyes, as if to say "Why did you kill me? Why?" Ratok, disgusted fell on his knees beside Timore. --- The sun set, and Ratok stumbled from the chapel in the arms of one of the surviving nurses. Timore would not leave. Ratok was placed upon a palate, and immediately fell into the waiting arms of a nightmare. Timore's words as he left echoed in his ears: "I know what I must do." The next morning, Ratok awoke and went in search of Timore. A passing guard said he was still in the chapel, and had refused any medical treatment whatsoever. Concerned, Ratok went to the chapel. Inside, he found Timore on his knees scrubbing. "Timore! Stop, you must have your wounds tended!" "I know what I must do." he replied, shoving intestine in a bucket. Retching, Ratok turned away, and saw Timore's armor piled upon the altat, along with his sword. "What are you doing?" "I must no longer fight, as I once did. I will have bring her back!" Ratok grapped Timore's hand. "You can't! Stop this, and have your wounds tended. You're badly hurt and bleeding all over the floor!" "One musn't dirty what one's trying to clean," Timore mumbled "Very well, I will come." Ratok saw Timore the infirmary, where the waiting nurses began bandaging his cuts. They shooed him out, and he went to find out how the town had survived. It wasn't pretty. At least half of the formerly pretty village was charred and blackened. The other half was coated with smoke, and blood. The streets were lined with bodies, men, women, children, animals, anything that used to live. The village was dead. Fewer than twenty residents were left alive. Whitefang's men had killed over three hundred people. Sickened, Ratok turned back towards the church. Of those left, most were the temple nurses, who had been hiding in a cellar, where they had remained undiscovered. He sent three to search the forest for stranglers, survivors, and Urynisa, or what was left of her. --- Timore was no longer a guardian, he was a healer. He felt different. The armor, the blood, it was all so wrong. He felt within himself the power, unbelievable power, power to reach beyond the grave. He prayed upon the recently scrubbed altar. He was ready. Ratok joined him at the altar. He turned, and saw it in Ratok's eyes. "We've found...her" Ratok said. "Take me too her!" Timore yelled, jumping to his feet. "There's nothing you can do!" Ratok called after him. "You don't understand!" Timore ran to the infirmary, where they bring the bodies in for Turipo to ressurect. No one was there. Turning, he grabbed Ratok. "WHERE IS SHE?!!" "Follow me." They came to the entranceway. On the floor sat a little box with a note. Timore picked up the note and read: Here's a little present from me to you, To prevent you from attempting what you would do, I've removed something for your enjoyment, Here's hoping its eternal torment. Timore opened the box. Inside was a small elvish heart. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"