Friday 2 October 2009
Final Task - After the Catacombs
Rayve's eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through the open balcony doors. Her hands ran over the soft, clean sheets as she slid herself up to rest against the headboard.
Still foggy, and disorientated, she was greeted by a glaring set of eyes, and nose almost touching hers.
"The next time you want to go and be all suicidal, Rayve, do it when it's not my watch, or better yet, do it after I've left the Isle!" A cold compress was slapped against her forehead, and she held it in place, a small smile creeping into the corner of her lips as the ranting continued. "Not only did I have to follow you all the way into those dirty, musty, horrid Catacombs, but then you go and do something as stupid as self sacrifice!" The tiny woman was stalking around the room, slamming drawers, clattering glasses, and generally making a racket.
"Anjah..." Rayve's voice cracked, and she reached for the cup of water on her side table, taking a sip.
"What!" Anjah snapped, her eyes wild as she stared at Rayve calmly sipping her drink.
"I'm still alive." Rayve grinned over the rim of her cup and continued to drink.
"You were almost not alive, Rayve. I very nearly forgot every healing spell on the spot as soon as that thick head of yours hit the ground!" The little healer, in a very unladylike fashion, dumped herself on the end of the bed and flopped backwards. "I very nearly lost you." Anjah said, quietly.
"What were to happen if you had? It was my Final Task, not yours Anjah. We all know the risks." Rayve reached over to the pitcher of water and refilled her cup.
"You were my Final Task, Rayve. I had to follow you without being seen, I had to defend myself from what was in those Catacombs as much as you, and if you had died, I wouldn't have been far behind. We both barely made it to see the sunlight again."
Rayve glanced out of the open window and winced, "I'm not that fond of sunlight, you know," she teased, "but, we're both still here which means we've both passed our Final Tasks."
Anjah's nose wriggled slightly and she sat up, a grin now washing across her face. "We'll be Lady's of the Isle on the morrow!"
"Aye." Rayve nestled down into her down-filled pillows, "I think we will."
Anjah slipped off the bed and landly softly on the floor, "I'm still annoyed at you." Anjah stated as she opened the door.
"Good.." Rayve mumbled, as she rolled over and curled up against her pillows.
"I should have left you there!" Anjah huffed, slamming the door behind her in one last attempt at making angry noises. Rayve smiled, and promptly fell asleep.
Still foggy, and disorientated, she was greeted by a glaring set of eyes, and nose almost touching hers.
"The next time you want to go and be all suicidal, Rayve, do it when it's not my watch, or better yet, do it after I've left the Isle!" A cold compress was slapped against her forehead, and she held it in place, a small smile creeping into the corner of her lips as the ranting continued. "Not only did I have to follow you all the way into those dirty, musty, horrid Catacombs, but then you go and do something as stupid as self sacrifice!" The tiny woman was stalking around the room, slamming drawers, clattering glasses, and generally making a racket.
"Anjah..." Rayve's voice cracked, and she reached for the cup of water on her side table, taking a sip.
"What!" Anjah snapped, her eyes wild as she stared at Rayve calmly sipping her drink.
"I'm still alive." Rayve grinned over the rim of her cup and continued to drink.
"You were almost not alive, Rayve. I very nearly forgot every healing spell on the spot as soon as that thick head of yours hit the ground!" The little healer, in a very unladylike fashion, dumped herself on the end of the bed and flopped backwards. "I very nearly lost you." Anjah said, quietly.
"What were to happen if you had? It was my Final Task, not yours Anjah. We all know the risks." Rayve reached over to the pitcher of water and refilled her cup.
"You were my Final Task, Rayve. I had to follow you without being seen, I had to defend myself from what was in those Catacombs as much as you, and if you had died, I wouldn't have been far behind. We both barely made it to see the sunlight again."
Rayve glanced out of the open window and winced, "I'm not that fond of sunlight, you know," she teased, "but, we're both still here which means we've both passed our Final Tasks."
Anjah's nose wriggled slightly and she sat up, a grin now washing across her face. "We'll be Lady's of the Isle on the morrow!"
"Aye." Rayve nestled down into her down-filled pillows, "I think we will."
Anjah slipped off the bed and landly softly on the floor, "I'm still annoyed at you." Anjah stated as she opened the door.
"Good.." Rayve mumbled, as she rolled over and curled up against her pillows.
"I should have left you there!" Anjah huffed, slamming the door behind her in one last attempt at making angry noises. Rayve smiled, and promptly fell asleep.
The Catacombs
The air was heavy, her breathing laboured. She was exhausted. For hours she'd dragged herself through the dark tunnels, forcing herself between walls, hiding in the shadows as the undead trudged the same, endless path. She didn't have time to fight every being in the Catacombs. This was her final task and she had less than an hour until moon was high in the sky.
For years her training had sculpted her. She wanted to be as good as her sisters on the Isle. Anjah and Sonja had chosen the path of the Monk, of divine knowledge and holy retribution. Xeera was a Warrior, and her very being was honest, proud and tough. Zyven was as wild as the beasts she trained, a quiet Ranger, at one with forests. Though they all walked different paths, Rayve's path was filled with more unspeakable horrors than the others. Rayve was a Necromancer, and a Necromancer raised the dead, cursed the living and hexed their foes to abuse their weaknesses. Her nightmares had stopped in her third year of training on the Isle. Now Rayve was perceived as an empty, cold-hearted shell.
This was true, for those who know of her. Those who were close to her knew the real Rayve. She was still full of conflicting emotions, she could still feel, and she could still fear.
She slowly looked around the corner, holding her breath as she did so. She could smell and feel the presence, but she could not see it. Her mind whirled quickly, sifting through the years of knowledge, searching for any piece of information which would hint at her task ahead.
She flattened herself against the wall, and closed her eyes, trying in vain to slow her heartbeat.
Rayve knew what was in that chamber.
She knew what her task was.
Conquer her fear.
---------------------------------------------
She clawed at the wall behind her. Her nails chipping away at the centuries of dirt and moss.
The creature in that room was her task, and her task was set by the Mother. The Mistress of Isle... and the Mistress knew the very depths of your soul. Although her tutoring was conducted by Priestesses and Scholars specific to each class (under the Mother's guidance), the final task in any adepts training was set by the Mistress herself. She would even go so far as to place the enemy of choice in an unnatural location.
Many of those lucky enough to have been accepted to the Isle failed and sought to pursue their learning elsewhere in the world, whilst a select few made it through, living on to represent the Isle of Darksong for as long as the Gods granted them air the breath.
Rayve desperately wanted the air to live.
She chanced another look around the corner, quickly whipping her head back once she caught sight of the creature. It was seated on a granite throne, it's featureless head swaying from side to side. It was encased in a black, iron-like armor and it idly tapped the edge of a vicious axe against the side of the throne.
Rayve's final task was a Doppelganger. The Mistress had rightly perceived that Rayve's greatest fear... was herself. She was so frightened of failing, of not living to see the daylight once more. She was petrified of making a mistake, and casting herself into non-existence instead of hexing a sheep to lose all it's wool.
The Mistress wanted Rayve to realise her own potential, her own skills, and most importantly, wanted Rayve to no longer fear, but trust in herself.
Rayve's hand crept to her throat, and lept in time with her heartbeat. She needed to find her centre. She needed to think.
She breathed deeply and stared at crumbling wall in front of her.
What weakness in the Doppleganger could she flaunt?
---------------------------------------------
Rayve knew that the Doppleganger could only mirror her own actions, therefore, Rayve needed to be very careful of what she was thinking, and what she countered the creature with.
If Rayve needed to heal her own wounds, the creature would be able to do this also, but there was some spells Rayve was certain would benefit her, whilst not assisting the Doppleganger at all.
Her eyes turned dark as she chanted a few words quietly, she could feel her blood warming as a faint surge of power, and of renewed confidence, ran through her. If she timed her actions correctly, the fight would be over quickly.
She held a grip on her power and turned the corner, striding directly towards the Doppleganger in the centre of the room. Her heels rapped on the stones and her hand extended out in front of her. Words tumbled from her mouth quickly, her hand glowed an eerie green, then she abruptly stopped, her entire body lifting from her ground, her back arching as the last line of the spell was complete. The Doppleganger slipped from the throne, it's armored knees clattering on the ground as the brunt of Rayve's spell hit it squarely. It staggered to it's feet.
A chilling growl filled the room.
Rayve's head stretched out abnormally, as the veins on her face stood out. The power she was calling down was strong, and needed much of her own lifeforce to work.
She needed to be patient and trust herself. The pain the creature would inflict on her would be over soon enough.
Her feet touched the ground, and suddenly she was thrown back, and the Doppleganger forced Rayve's own spell back at her. She blinked, dazed by the sheer power the creature had backed the spell up with. The Doppleganger howled, grasping at it's chest as Rayve's spell worked itself through the creatures body. Now she needed to face it, it was the only way to win.
She pushed herself to her feet and swayed slighty, a wicked grin forming on her face. It was so clear, and so simple, that Rayve was almost certain this couldn't be her final task. The spell she had cast damaged the creature everytime it attacked or cast on her. She had that same spell weaving it's way around herself, and now all she had to do was wait.
The creature started at a run, a wall of black bearing down upon her. As it closed the distance, Rayve realised she was looking at a rather good impersonation of herself. A hard gauntlet smashed across Rayve's face and she was thrown to the ground, the Doppleganger grabbing its head and keeling over in agony.
Once again she pulled herself up, but it was too late, the creature was upon her, clawing, beating and hacking at her, she tried to hold up her arms to cover her face. The Doppleganger howled and shook, and then it staggered back, away from Rayve. It's eyes popped as the full force of it's attacks were returned three fold by Rayve's spell.
Grabbing onto the pillar beside her, Rayve hauled herself back to her feet. Her arms here bloody, and the few heavy, stray swipes that had made it to her face left her battered, cut and bruised. She tried to focus her eyes, but they blurred in and out of vision. She tried to take a step, but realised the weight of the armored creature, had crushed down on her legs and had left her unable to move but a few inches.
The Doppleganger had clattered to it's knees once more, nearing exhaustion, and death.
Rayve swayed. A bright white light filling her sight. She felt herself wanting to move toward it, to the painless place.
She was almost there, almost to the light, when a bone crunching impact slammed her against the pillar and brought her screaming back to reality. She looked down.
Rayve was pinned against the pillar, the blunt head of the axe pushing into her belly. She glanced up, the Doppleganger, which was now pale and listless, had mustered a final bought of strength, to pin her down, and finish the job.
A small smile crept into the corner of Rayve's lips. She had enough of her own life left, and decided to gamble on one final spell.
"I will not fail." She said, simply.
Her eyes darkened once more, and her hands glowed blood red. Staring into the creatures eyes, words tumbled from her mouth, and a red, thick mist crept from her hands. It wormed it's way up the Doppleganger, in and out of the abnormal armor, seeping into it's whiteless eyes.
The creature choked. She felt it falter, and the axe fell to the ground, cracking the stones. The Doppleganger fell backwards and disintergrated into dust on impact. Rayve covered her mouth, and pulled herself towards the entrance.
Her face paled, and the sacrifice of her spell claimed what belonged to it, her blood ran thin, and she fell to the ground. Her breath shallow. Closing her eyes, she sighed to herself. It was over.
For years her training had sculpted her. She wanted to be as good as her sisters on the Isle. Anjah and Sonja had chosen the path of the Monk, of divine knowledge and holy retribution. Xeera was a Warrior, and her very being was honest, proud and tough. Zyven was as wild as the beasts she trained, a quiet Ranger, at one with forests. Though they all walked different paths, Rayve's path was filled with more unspeakable horrors than the others. Rayve was a Necromancer, and a Necromancer raised the dead, cursed the living and hexed their foes to abuse their weaknesses. Her nightmares had stopped in her third year of training on the Isle. Now Rayve was perceived as an empty, cold-hearted shell.
This was true, for those who know of her. Those who were close to her knew the real Rayve. She was still full of conflicting emotions, she could still feel, and she could still fear.
She slowly looked around the corner, holding her breath as she did so. She could smell and feel the presence, but she could not see it. Her mind whirled quickly, sifting through the years of knowledge, searching for any piece of information which would hint at her task ahead.
She flattened herself against the wall, and closed her eyes, trying in vain to slow her heartbeat.
Rayve knew what was in that chamber.
She knew what her task was.
Conquer her fear.
---------------------------------------------
She clawed at the wall behind her. Her nails chipping away at the centuries of dirt and moss.
The creature in that room was her task, and her task was set by the Mother. The Mistress of Isle... and the Mistress knew the very depths of your soul. Although her tutoring was conducted by Priestesses and Scholars specific to each class (under the Mother's guidance), the final task in any adepts training was set by the Mistress herself. She would even go so far as to place the enemy of choice in an unnatural location.
Many of those lucky enough to have been accepted to the Isle failed and sought to pursue their learning elsewhere in the world, whilst a select few made it through, living on to represent the Isle of Darksong for as long as the Gods granted them air the breath.
Rayve desperately wanted the air to live.
She chanced another look around the corner, quickly whipping her head back once she caught sight of the creature. It was seated on a granite throne, it's featureless head swaying from side to side. It was encased in a black, iron-like armor and it idly tapped the edge of a vicious axe against the side of the throne.
Rayve's final task was a Doppelganger. The Mistress had rightly perceived that Rayve's greatest fear... was herself. She was so frightened of failing, of not living to see the daylight once more. She was petrified of making a mistake, and casting herself into non-existence instead of hexing a sheep to lose all it's wool.
The Mistress wanted Rayve to realise her own potential, her own skills, and most importantly, wanted Rayve to no longer fear, but trust in herself.
Rayve's hand crept to her throat, and lept in time with her heartbeat. She needed to find her centre. She needed to think.
She breathed deeply and stared at crumbling wall in front of her.
What weakness in the Doppleganger could she flaunt?
---------------------------------------------
Rayve knew that the Doppleganger could only mirror her own actions, therefore, Rayve needed to be very careful of what she was thinking, and what she countered the creature with.
If Rayve needed to heal her own wounds, the creature would be able to do this also, but there was some spells Rayve was certain would benefit her, whilst not assisting the Doppleganger at all.
Her eyes turned dark as she chanted a few words quietly, she could feel her blood warming as a faint surge of power, and of renewed confidence, ran through her. If she timed her actions correctly, the fight would be over quickly.
She held a grip on her power and turned the corner, striding directly towards the Doppleganger in the centre of the room. Her heels rapped on the stones and her hand extended out in front of her. Words tumbled from her mouth quickly, her hand glowed an eerie green, then she abruptly stopped, her entire body lifting from her ground, her back arching as the last line of the spell was complete. The Doppleganger slipped from the throne, it's armored knees clattering on the ground as the brunt of Rayve's spell hit it squarely. It staggered to it's feet.
A chilling growl filled the room.
Rayve's head stretched out abnormally, as the veins on her face stood out. The power she was calling down was strong, and needed much of her own lifeforce to work.
She needed to be patient and trust herself. The pain the creature would inflict on her would be over soon enough.
Her feet touched the ground, and suddenly she was thrown back, and the Doppleganger forced Rayve's own spell back at her. She blinked, dazed by the sheer power the creature had backed the spell up with. The Doppleganger howled, grasping at it's chest as Rayve's spell worked itself through the creatures body. Now she needed to face it, it was the only way to win.
She pushed herself to her feet and swayed slighty, a wicked grin forming on her face. It was so clear, and so simple, that Rayve was almost certain this couldn't be her final task. The spell she had cast damaged the creature everytime it attacked or cast on her. She had that same spell weaving it's way around herself, and now all she had to do was wait.
The creature started at a run, a wall of black bearing down upon her. As it closed the distance, Rayve realised she was looking at a rather good impersonation of herself. A hard gauntlet smashed across Rayve's face and she was thrown to the ground, the Doppleganger grabbing its head and keeling over in agony.
Once again she pulled herself up, but it was too late, the creature was upon her, clawing, beating and hacking at her, she tried to hold up her arms to cover her face. The Doppleganger howled and shook, and then it staggered back, away from Rayve. It's eyes popped as the full force of it's attacks were returned three fold by Rayve's spell.
Grabbing onto the pillar beside her, Rayve hauled herself back to her feet. Her arms here bloody, and the few heavy, stray swipes that had made it to her face left her battered, cut and bruised. She tried to focus her eyes, but they blurred in and out of vision. She tried to take a step, but realised the weight of the armored creature, had crushed down on her legs and had left her unable to move but a few inches.
The Doppleganger had clattered to it's knees once more, nearing exhaustion, and death.
Rayve swayed. A bright white light filling her sight. She felt herself wanting to move toward it, to the painless place.
She was almost there, almost to the light, when a bone crunching impact slammed her against the pillar and brought her screaming back to reality. She looked down.
Rayve was pinned against the pillar, the blunt head of the axe pushing into her belly. She glanced up, the Doppleganger, which was now pale and listless, had mustered a final bought of strength, to pin her down, and finish the job.
A small smile crept into the corner of Rayve's lips. She had enough of her own life left, and decided to gamble on one final spell.
"I will not fail." She said, simply.
Her eyes darkened once more, and her hands glowed blood red. Staring into the creatures eyes, words tumbled from her mouth, and a red, thick mist crept from her hands. It wormed it's way up the Doppleganger, in and out of the abnormal armor, seeping into it's whiteless eyes.
The creature choked. She felt it falter, and the axe fell to the ground, cracking the stones. The Doppleganger fell backwards and disintergrated into dust on impact. Rayve covered her mouth, and pulled herself towards the entrance.
Her face paled, and the sacrifice of her spell claimed what belonged to it, her blood ran thin, and she fell to the ground. Her breath shallow. Closing her eyes, she sighed to herself. It was over.
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