Author Topic: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin  (Read 12442 times)

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Offline IronCretin

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Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« on: April 18, 2007, 02:45:23 pm »
PART MAN, PART ANIMAL, ALL AWESOME!  MY CHARACTER ROXORS!  BEHOLD THE TRANSFORMER EXCELSOR!!!

LoL, Kidding!

My character. . .

*thinking*

Heck, we don't have a knight yet!  Better yet. . . a paladin. . . a fallen paladin.  I would make him a vampire. . . but that'd be a bit much ;).  Ummm, yeah, a fallen paladin. . . a synopsis as follows:

From the Archives of Brother Marius, of the Dahlisin Order:

The birth of Dravis Forsythe has been a subject of debate for centuries amongst the five kingdoms.  There are those that say he was the son of a Priest and an elven witch, a bastard child, torn between joining the armies of heaven or the legions of hell.  Others say he was born a seventh son, all his brothers alive at birth, to William, the Knight of Stilton (also a seventh son, who, coincidently, was responsible for the Holy Purgings that ravaged the lands from Stilton itself to beyond the moors of N'wahnt), thus privy to a host of poorly understood, but, undoubtably, supernatural powers.  The fact remains, that Dravis was not a normal child.  He was raised in the village of Crystal Spires (named after the miraculous crystal structures that overshadow the town, a major attraction for tourists, also a major ingredient for Throgriff's Healing Elixer (see Janick's unparalleled Guide to Herbs and Potions)) by the midwives.  He was traded from home to home, well loved, and well cared for.  His childhood is, regrettably, poorly documented and could offer many glimpses into how he accomplished so much in such a short time of his life.  It is this historian's opinion that the large scale of works performed by Dravis have gone, largely, unnoticed.  Certainly there are many miracles that were observed during his squiring (it was not long before the midwives of Crystal Spires saw his extraordinary talents, and he was sent to the capital, where he would undergo training to be a knight, boarding with other boys his age).  For example, his detection of the poison that lay in the goblet of the Queen herself.  Without his presence she would have, surely, perished.  However, the Cripsk Toxin in her wine is virtually undetectable, save with the aide of several complex spells, well beyond the abilities of an un-learned squire.  Yet, there are many events which may be attributed to Dravis, although few seem willing to do so.  It is well known that, around his 15th year of age, a Basilisk began stalking the capital at night.  How this creature came to be inside the city walls is anyone's guess (no doubt a mage attempting spells WELL BEYOND his abilities, a common source of injury), yet the basilisk was found dead not far from the Squire's Shelter.  Many say the beast was slain by several brave villagers, yet none have stepped forward, all the guards were at their posts, all the knights were debating HOW to kill the basilisk, and all the squires were attending training that night. . . save one.

Dravis rose quickly with the grit and determination rivalled by few.  He quickly became a knight, shortly after, a paladin, and was even promoted into the Death Shrikes.  The Death Shrikes, for those who have little knowledge of the outside world, are an order (some say cult) who are devoted to expulsing those dark forces that threaten the kingdom.  It is doubtless that Dravis, and his troupe, faced many horrors.  It is during this time that Dravis went under the tutelage of Visk Gri'stiene, a respected and feared paladin, and the leader of the Shrikes.  It was believed that Dravis was to lead the Shrikes upon Visk's passing.  However, either fate's cards were mis-shuffled, the stars were thrown out of their orbits, or the God that guides us lost interest in his follower, Dravis, for Dravis never led the Shrikes. . . The account that follows is from a variety of sources. . . My own scrying, interviews of several birds flying overhead at the time, and the evidence, all suggest that the following is a, relatively, accurate account of what transpired:

The Death Shrikes had travelled quickly after receiving the first reports of a Lycanthropic outbreak on the outskirts of the N'wahnt moors, in the town of Heaven's Gate (named by an eccentric bard centuries ago, who thought it might be amusing. . . few find it such).  A lone rider had brought the news, driving his horse at a gallop for two days, and then running at full-stride to the nearest town, Jubilee's Crest, after his horse fell, shattering its shoulder.  The rider passed on the news to the mayor and a runner was dispatched immediately.  The news reached the capital in six days.  The Death Shrikes made it to the border of Heaven's Gate in less then 5 days, their horses still strong, but skittish despite their training. 

Before continuing, I must stress the dangers of Lycanthropic Plague.  It is an affliction that few have heard of and, therefore, I feel it needs explaining.  Almost all know of the Lycanthropes (Common name, the Werewolf; scientific name: Canis lycanthrus), who transfer their affliction (Veracius lycanthrip) through biting their victim.  This, in a way, is similar to the Lycanthropic Plague, in that both require a bite to spread.  However, Lycanthropic Plague (Veracius lycanthrus) does NOT exhibit the dormancy phase seen during the solar cycle.  Therefore, once bitten with a host afflicted by Veracius lycanthrus the host will remain a lycanthrope forever and will not revert to their former human form, even after death.  Thus, any outbreak of Veracius lycanthrus MUST be eradicated without mercy, least the infected victims escape and enter the kingdom proper (Heaven's Gate is not, technically, within the boundaries of the kingdom, however, it is under the protection of the Queen and, consequently, the Death Shrikes). 

As stated earlier, Heaven's Gate sits at the edge of the Moors.  It was estimated that 60 souls inhabited Heaven's Gate and, in order to defend the town from the many invaders (the moors lead into the Discanti Swamps, where few foolhardy adventurers return from), the town was constructed in a natural valley.  Both the entrance and the exit are well defended with just a handful of men.  The town was surrounded by a stone wall, too high for many men to scale effectively, especially when clad in full-scale mail.  The Shrikes rested their horses and sharpened their swords, preparing to attack at dawn, the sun at their backs. 

The riders descended upon the town, breaking through the main gate, each man holding his breath in anticipation, containing the fear that they were too late.  The town was silent.  The sound of flies filled the air, and the stench of carrion violated their nostrils. 
"We are too late, my captain, the beasts have fled into the moors. . . or perhaps into the kingdom herself."
"Nay, still your tongue Dravis, Heaven's Gate was closed, the kingdom is safe.  However, I fear, you were right in stating our tardiness, it seems the village is devoid of life."
The knights rode in silence.  The sound of hooves on cobblestones seemed to echo off every wall.  A lone window shutter battered noisily in the wind.  They entered the common.  In front of them the entire village seemed assembled in a macabre meeting.  Blood stained the grass and carcasses of livestock had been torn to shreds.  Bones lay strewn across the ground, flesh still clinging to them like the reddened sap of a birch.  One of the men drew in his breath, staring at the throng of wolfmen before them.  Visk steadied his horse, lifting his sword towards the sky.  Their armor gleamed in the morning sun, their horses whinnied.  One of the lycanthropes howled, head held high.  Visk's mount reared, as if in reply.
"FOR THE QUEEN!  DESCEND MY SHRIKES!"
The men charged.  Blood flecked their armor, turning the silver into a crimson sheen.  Dravis grinned as his sword cut through the beasts.  Many of the men fell victim to the werewolves, and then perished again as they rose against their former comrades.  The wolves fought without concern, their bodies driven by the plague itself, thirsting for blood, for yet another carrier of the disease.  The knights fought valiantly, and before long the werewolves' numbers were dwindling.  Visk and Dravis fought side by side and, as the last lycanthrope fell to his steel, that Dravis realised, with grim certainty, that they were the last of the Death Shrikes.  They dismount, standing alone, two men in a sea of gore, clothed from head to foot in the deep red of rubies, their victory leaving an acrid taste in their mouths.  Dravis looked at Visk and smiled bitterly. 
"For the Queen." spat Dravis.
Visk's eyes flashed.
"Beware Dravis, your words are tainted with heresy."
"You saw them Visk.  I looked in their eyes, damn you!  My friends, fallen.  My comrades, slain!  And for what?  To expunge a plague which would never have made it into the kingdom?!"
"This is the kingdom Dravis, and you would do well to stay your tongue!"
"Nay, I shall not!  Heaven's Gate was nothing, it would take a thousand of these. . . these. . . peasants to equal one of my brothers!"
"You think I do not mourn Dravis?  You think my heart does not ache at the loss we have suffered today?  We must all make sacrifices for the kingdom, we must all serve our Queen!"
"For what?  Why should I die?  I should be ruling this nation!  We should invade the moors, decimate the swamps.  Why remain in the kingdom?  We could control the entirety of the five Kingdoms!"
"Dravis, your words are tainted with hate and bloodlust, be careful where you tread, least the Queen send the Shrikes after you!"
"The Shrikes?  The Shrikes?  What SHRIKES?  We are the last my dear Visk!  And the lineage ends here!  If you insist on defending the Queen, then you will be the first to be quelled!"
Dravis stopped circling his quarry and lunged.  Visk parried his blow easily.
"Dravis, my friend, talk sense.  Clearly the air has clouded your mind.  Come with me, we shall ride together and talk this over."
"The time for talking is through, my friend.  Your soul shall be joining my comrades shortly Visk. . . Nay, you deserve the fate of these peasants, to die at my hand!"
With a cry, Dravis swipes at Visk.  Visk leaps backwards awkwardly, weighed down by his armor.  The sword bounces off his breastplate and he regains his balance in time to parry Dravis' next blow. 
"Come now Dravis, this is folly."
Dravis' eyes seeth with hate, with bloodlust.  He slashes at his former teacher without finesse, without grace.  Anger fuels the venom of his hatred, and he unleashes blow upon furious blow.  Visk attempts to retaliate but, instead, is thrown off balance by his assailants assault.  He falls, his sword knocked from his hand.  He raises his gloved hands in defense.
"I yield Dravis!  Grant me mercy, as is my God given right!"
"I see no God here."
"Brother. . ."

And that is when my scrying ball fell silent.  Those that visited the site, myself included, saw the common drenched in blood, the corpses of wolfmen and knights virtually indistinguishable amid the carnage.  The ground in the centre of the common was scorched.  Those fews avians that witnessed the event state that a great light descended upon Visk, and, upon its fading, there was but the blackened earth where he had lay prone.  Dravis, however, was unscathed, and journeyed to the Moors.  He was seen again, although not until much later, and his legend quickly grew.  Few knew whether insanity had gripped him, and many state that he had, in fact, seen the error of his ways, adopting the teachings of his former master.  Some state that he sought allies in the moors, to launch an attack against the Queen, others that he seeks to eradicate all threats to the kingdom.  His many actions have yet to be documented and he still roams the moors.  He is sighted from time to time and I believe that he still has a role to play in this kingdom.  Whether that role is as a villian or an ally remains to be seen.  However, if he stands against us, then may God be on our side, because, I fear, nothing else will stop him.

Wow. . . well, that was MUCH longer than I expected.  I hope it was ok and that you enjoyed reading it. 

I'll write a description too. . . but not right now *yawn*
That took WAY too long.

~The (Over Exuberant) Cretin~





   
« Last Edit: April 19, 2007, 06:01:56 am by IronCretin »

Offline Lucy

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #1 on: April 18, 2007, 06:33:17 pm »
Whoa. :blink:

Read it all.

Congrats!!! :)


P. S.: Heaven’s Gate, eh? :biggrin:
« Last Edit: April 18, 2007, 06:49:37 pm by Lucy »

Offline Elizabeth

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #2 on: April 18, 2007, 09:30:58 pm »
My, if I read the whole of it today, my eyes will hurt like hell after the experience. I'll leave it for tomorrow, me going to sleep now  ^_^

Thanks Tequila!

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Offline Luth

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #3 on: April 18, 2007, 10:50:15 pm »
My, if I read the whole of it today, my eyes will hurt like hell after the experience. I'll leave it for tomorrow, me going to sleep now  ^_^

I'll do the same... man, what a speech-skill he has!!!  :insane:
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Offline Loke

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #4 on: April 19, 2007, 05:29:05 am »
My, if I read the whole of it today, my eyes will hurt like hell after the experience. I'll leave it for tomorrow, me going to sleep now  ^_^

what a speech-skill he has!!! 


I prefer to think he has too much spare time :)


yo yo yo :P
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Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #5 on: April 19, 2007, 06:04:35 am »
Hmmm, perhaps I do have too much free time. . . or enjoy writing. . . or a bit of both.

Reading back through it.  .  . it's not very good. . . pretty jumpy and not very stimulating *sigh* 

LoL, oh well.  Ummmm. . . well, i was keen to do a description. . . but perhaps it's best left to another day.

~The (Zombified) Cretin~

Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #6 on: April 20, 2007, 01:33:14 pm »
An excerpt from the Archives of Brother Marius:

The descriptions of Dravis Forsythe have always been diverse, he seems to be one of those men that shows only what they want to show.  It's difficult to say exactly what he looks like, especially due to his long period of absence from the kingdom proper.  However, many sightings have occured on the outskirts of the kingdom, some as far in as The Severed Crossing Inn (which is well on the way to Stilton).  One particularly reliable encounter (due to the large amount of witnesses) occured at Senor Farmhen's Manor, in the Northern Hills of Aberdeen.  The entire family, several servents, and a dog, were present at the time of the sighting.  The collaborated stories suggest that a tall man, approximately 5'11", with horse in tow, approached the picnic.  He asked them for some food and water.  They obliged, giving him a cold shoulder of mutton, so that he would not linger.  They permitted him to fill his waterskins, after which he mounted his horse and left the way he came.  His hair was white, looking as soft as silk.  His beard was trimmed close to the skin, but was also white, giving him a gaunt, spectral appearance.  His eyes, apparently, were of the coldest blue, and his glance seemed to hold those that it touched, frozen in place (whether this statement is justifiably the cause of magic, or merely psychosomatic, is debatable).  His cheekbones were well pronounced, but his cheeks sunk in.  He did not smile, but his teeth were quite white.  His eyes were well-set (not deeply set, though) and his nose was regal.  His armor was obviously polished often, and with care.  However, the plates were almost bronzed, as if someone had reddened the steel of which they had undoubtedly been made (the father, Senor Farmhen, however, knew best, and he suggested that the armor was made of Dwarven Admantium, which has been known to absorb colours if they are rubbed into it with polish.  He and I came to the conclusion that the stranger had been polishing his armor with blood.).  His armor was a suit of full plate, but his ornate helmet hung from his horse.  He had two scabbards, one upon his back, which held a large and exquisitely made bastard sword, adorned with many runes (which the father, who served alongside Lieutenant Jordan, during the Kilshkite Battle, identified), the other scabbard at his side, which held a long, ornately carved, but servicable, dagger.  However, one must remember that it has been many years since Dravis was last sighted.  Indeed, it seems strange that a man who should be 32 should have the bleached hair of an old man.  Yet, the witnesses all said that his eyes were those of a man in his mid-twenties, and burned with the ferocity of a wintersun.  In fact, I was ready to dismiss this account until they mentioned the horse.  Clad in heavy war mail, the same reddened colour of the rider's armour, the horse was black as coal.  However, the father of the family stated that this horse appeared to be of the Weshtale breed.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with this breed (and, undoubtably, many are), it is the horses which the Death Shrikes themselves rode, and only the Death Shrikes.  Many legends surround this breed of horses, but only one lineage is known in the kingdom, and its origin, although shrouded, seems to come from across the Great Sea of Durage.  Dravis is still alive, and the sightings of a similar character, with a similar horse, although rare, seem to be encroaching further into the kingdom.  I believe that the coming of Dravis is nigh. 
« Last Edit: April 23, 2007, 09:47:44 am by IronCretin »

Offline Luth

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #7 on: April 25, 2007, 10:47:36 am »
After deciding I have not so much time to spare, I ask...

Please, Cretin, can you summirize the more important facts for the comprehension of your character in the story?  :whistle:
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Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #8 on: April 25, 2007, 10:59:44 am »
Paladin - Fell - Wears armor - Has Horse - Kills Things - ummm. . . just think of pretty much any paladin. . . except kinda chaotic neutral.  It doesn't really matter, no one else has any complicated descriptions, I just think it adds more to the character to develop a back story.  It allows motivations as a precursor to the story, but these motivations should come across in the story proper.  Personally, though I wouldn't introduce a character into a story without considering who he is, where he came from, what he seeks in life. . . but that's just me.  If you don't want to read the stuff I wrote, it really doesn't matter.  As I said, all this (should) come out in the story, in some form or another. . . Nothing I've written is really pertinent to anything.  .  .

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Tharius' Quest
« Reply #9 on: June 01, 2007, 12:30:21 pm »
An excerpt from the Journal of Tharius, A Death Shrike in Service of the Queen.  Written before the incident at Heaven's Gate.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Month of the Fifth Rising.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The third day.

We rode hard today, my back aches, and my hand is chaffed from the reigns.  My entry sh'an't be long, but I must relay what has transpired, for I have been lacking in my entries as of late.  I have been selected by the Queen to journey with Dravis.  Long trip ahead.  We ride to the castle of Duke Hirakde, in the highlands.  Strange goings-ons.  Very hush, hush.  Unpaid taxes, or some such nonsense.  My eyelids droop, 'tis a sign I should stop for today and rest.

The seventh.

We have arrived at the castle.  No one at gate.  Had to force entry.  Dravis is wary.  I get a cold chill from him, like he's more than what he seems.  But he is loyal to the Queen, his allegiance may not be questioned.  The throne room was empty.  We rest in the barracks.  Entire castle is empty.  Tables are set, clothes left mid-washing.  What has happened??

The ninth day.

We have found no signs of any one.  Searched the entire village, even the farms outside the castle.  Tomorrow we shall search the grasslands.  I have my reservations.  The wild grass grows tall, well over Dravis' head, and he is a tall man.  It is razor sharp, grains of silica line their edges.  Dravis is confident that our armor shall protect us.  Horses must be left in castle.  We expect the worse, a massacre in the grasslands.  No other explanation plausible.

The 10th.

How can I describe what has happened?  We have found the villagers, and the Duke himself.  They are living in the grasslands.  Cuts cover their bodies, head to toe.  Oozing pus and plasma.  I thought them necrotic consequences, before they spoke.  Strange, though.  They are kind, hospitable.  Seem to think their presence in the grasslands is natural.  They are eating raw toads, and bugs.  Sleeping on the matted grass.  Their bodies are infested with ticks and lice.  Sickening to me.  Refuse to leave.  They listen, constantly listen.  I can tell Dravis is on edge, as am I.  We can do little more than exchange glances, at the moment.  They say they're waiting.  I know not for what.

Day Twelve.

Dravis suggested one of us should ride back and inform the Queen of the events.  I am hesitant.  Neither wishes to abandon the other.  We have decided to remain together and wait.

Day Eighteen.

We are still waiting.  I saw something today under the arm of a peasent.  It is the first time I have seen one without his torso covered.  They all wear long shirts.  His underarm was melted, almost rotted.  Black, like festering wounds of a battle.  I asked him about, he said he saw nothing wrong with his body.  I pressed him and he grew agitated.  I dropped the topic.  Dravis and I shall talk later.

19.

Dravis is gone.  I know not where.  They won't let me leave to search for him.  Their peaceful mannerisms have been abandoned.  They have my sword.

24. 

I had to kill one of the villagers.  We were alone.  I convinced them that I had an affliction of the bowels, went to search for medicinal herbs out on the outskirts of the grassland.  Two men accompanied me, fully armed.  I bent down to pick an herb, and bolted.  My armor prevented a speedy escape, but they were caught off guard.  One caught up to me, just before he reached me I spun and leapt at him.  Tackled him to the ground and beat his head against it.  Didn't stop until blood ran from him.  The other man looked at me in spite and, what I took to be, fear.  He ran from me.  I sat on the damaged man.  He kept writhing for almost an hour.  At first I just kept pounding his skull, but it did nothing to stop it.  Eventually I stood and just watched.  It sickened me, but I couldn't stop.  Finally, he stopped moving and I took his sword.  I vomited.  I am ashamed to admit it, but it is so.  I removed his shirt.  The whole torso was red and oozing.  I threw-up again, I could not stop it.

Early morning, the twenty-fifth.

I hear chanting in the grasslands.  No lights, they never had a fire.  I can't sleep with the chanting going.  No drums, no instruments, only a mournful chant.  I do not know what language it is in.  My bones are chilled, despite the warm night. No sign of Dravis since he disappeared.  I cannot find my horse in the castle, and Dravis' is gone as well.  I considered walking, but the nearest inn is across the border, below the highlands, it would take me many days, and I am weakened.  I know not what has caused the disfigurement of the villagers, I fear all food and water.  My canteen was long emptied, I have drunk from pools of dew and puddles, and any other sources of water I can find.  I debated taking the fight to them.  I am fearful.  Horribly fearful.

I have lost track of the day it is.  The chanting is in the day now, as well.  I feel it in my bones, their voices, reverberating in my chest.  My heart feels constrained, and my breathing is weak.  I tried walking from this accursed place, but I found myself in the grasslands.  No matter which way I head, I head into the grasslands.  They're drawing me there.  Whatever's going to happen, I must be there, I must witness it.  I am the chronicle, of this I am convinced.  Dravis, where are you?  Lend me your strength.  I cry out your name until my voice is rasp, but you respond Not!  My friend, my ally, my comrade. 

There is a final entry, however it is smeared with pus and mud.  Slivers of bone and giblets stick to the page. 

While his journal contains little more, the results of Tharius' quest were documented, for Dravis had gone to retrieve aid from the rest of the Shrikes.  He returned to witness what transpired.  His disregard for Tharius was questioned many times, and is presented in the records of his trial, as is his account of the tale. 

(In other words, I'll continue this at a later time, told as an account, dictated by Dravis)

~The (Gee-Willickers Batman!) Cretin~

Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #10 on: June 04, 2007, 10:33:13 am »
From the transcriptions of the trial of Dravis.  For treason against Her Majesty and the murder of Sir Tharius Fiscale, a knight of the Death Shrikes.

"Dravis, please rise.  You stand before your Queen and fellow Shrikes to be judged.  The sentence will be torture and death, for a guilty verdict of either crime.  There is no punishment greater, for if there were, you would certainly be sentenced for it.  This court has read the journal of Tharius, and will start with the events that occurred with you in his presence.  He says you forced entry?"

"Yes my liege.  I shed myself of armor and scaled the wall.  There was no other route, for the gate was closed, and none would respond to our calls."

"And you believed you had the right to force entry to the castle itself?"

"What would you have me do?  I had no other option if I were to fulfill the Queen's bidding."

"Hmmm, yes."
The Minister of Justice runs a hand down the side of his face, causing a rasping sound, as his grey whiskers resist the motion.
"And the villagers?  What of they?"

"I trust Tharius' observations were adequate."

"Humour us Dravis.  This is your fate we are to decide, remember this."

Dravis sighs audibly.  He looks skyward and his lips move, mouthing mute syllables.

"Dravis?"

His attention snaps to the court again.
"They were bleeding.  I caught glimpses of their arms.  Swollen, blackened, almost as if they had been seared.  The flesh under their arms looked to be blistering."

"And why did you leave Tharius?"

"I had no choice, after the first week he grew less and less responsive.  He would only eat and drink.  I tried talking to him, but, well, he was all but catatonic.  How can you work with a man like that?  I loved Tharius, as I do all my fellow Shrikes, but he was weak.  He was young and, at times, I daresay, impudent."

"You desecrate his name, Tharius was a warrior and you would do well to learn from him!"

Dravis' eyes flare, fired with disgust for the twisted truths presented to him.
"A warrior because he died??  I shall tell you what became of your warrior."
A silence falls upon the courtroom.  A chill settles upon the great hall, and a fog seems to seep in from nowhere, slowly, pervading the room, draining away the voice of all those but Dravis.  All eyes lock with his and he begins to recount his tale.

~The (Intermission!) Cretin~

Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #11 on: June 06, 2007, 11:55:50 am »
It was a dark and stormy night,
And the first mate said to the captain,
"Tell us a Story!"
And the captain began:
'It was a dark and stormy night
And the first mate said to the captain,
"Tell us a Story!"
And the captain began:'
"It was a dark and stormy night. . . "

~~~~~~~~~~

"On the twelfth day of the Fifth Rising I decided that neither I, nor Tharius, could do anything to help these villagers.  It was a lost cause.  I must state, that I had no intention of abandoning my quest, rather I thought it best to consult those versed in curses that have plagued this region.  Forgive me your majesty, I mean not to insult your kingdom, but every diamond is flawed, and your kingdom is no exception.  However, I dislodge myself from the path at hand."

"I told Tharius of my intent to leave, but he was fearful.  He was young, inexperienced, and had not been exposed to such situations.  He was practically newly born babe, for he was not alert, not as a warrior should be, and consistently remained despondent.  Surely he would jot things down in his diary, but only with me to wet his quill.  I sha'n't say he was maddening, nor in the grips of the disease, he seemed to be. . . in shock.  I spoke to him of leaving, coming back later. . . He nodded, dumbfounded.  In hindsight. . . it was not just shock, but I knew not then, and so, when the opportunity presented itself, I left.  I would've taken him with me if he weren't so misbegotten!  Nay, perhaps that is too strong a word. . . but I felt enraged by his inability to act, for himself, for our honour, for the QUEEN."

The hall was silent, held in rapture by the commanding presence of the narrator, Dravis.  He stood tall in their gaze, all but immortalised in that brief moment of passion, of emotion.  His garb cast flecks of dust into the air, swirling around him, enhancing his aura.  The fog swept slinking tendrils around his feet as he continued.

"I left him there, yes, whimpering in the fields of grass.  I tried to convince him to come, and for a moment I saw a glimmer of urgency in his eyes, but it passed, and they clouded over again, like a winter's day.  He made no motion to follow as I bolted through the grass.  The blades whipped my flesh, and stung my eyes.  Three of them followed me, but abandoned their chase as I made it to the edge of the grasslands.  I climbed the hillock upon which the castle sat, and found my horse.  He had wandered into the common and was grazing contentedly at the soft grass.  Tharius' horse was with him, and she whinnied at my approach.  I left her there, on the common as I rode back here, to gain the advice of the clergy and the wizards."
 
Dravis fell silent, gazing at those gathered in tribunal before him.  The Minister of Justice, again, ran his hand down the sound of his face, the rasping breaking the heavy silence.

"And yet you never arrived here Dravis?  Do you spin us tales?  Feed us lies in an attempt to appease us?  If so, you are failing."

"I speak the truth minister.  For on the sixth day of leaving the highlands, I heard Tharius, in my heart, cry out, in fear, in anguish, in agony.  His last strands of sanity were wearing thin, and I knew if I were to continue riding here, that I would lose him, for there was at least 3 days left in my journey.  And so I turned back, and did not rest, and did not stop, or pull my halter, until I had sight of the highlands, and then I drove my horse harder, until he did breath blood, and his saliva foamed from his mouth.  That is what I thought of Tharius, that is how I valued him.  And what took me six days of hard riding, I returned in four, and you doubt me?!  Look me in the eyes Minister, look me in the eyes and call me a traitor!"

The Minister held Dravis' glare until his eyes grew dry, and his gaze faltered.  He adjusted his sleeve, as if it required his immediate attention.  He attempted to speak, to assert his control, but he fumbled the words, his mouth dry from anxiety and embarrassment.

"I rode into the highlands searching for my comrade, the whimpering babe I left behind.  They chanted, loudly.  There were no drums, no percussion, just their voices, high on the wind.  I heard it as I approached the castle.  Tharius' horse was gone.  I left my horse resting, and rested myself, sharpening my blade, and catching my breath.  Preparing myself for what was to come."

~The (Quick Break) Cretin~
« Last Edit: June 06, 2007, 12:26:36 pm by IronCretin »

Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #12 on: June 06, 2007, 01:05:31 pm »
"The autumn air grew cold as I walked towards the grasslands.  Clouds masked the waning sun, and my muscles grew tight.  My heart quickened at their chanting, and I prepared myself for what horrors that, soon, may make themselves known.  I stepped from the grass into a clearing.  The grass had been matted down in a circular shape, and the villagers stood, their faces pointed outwards from the center.  And in the center sat Tharius, cross-legged, his eyes flaming, literally alight with flames.  He was smiling, wide, his genial smile bastardised by their song and their possession of him.  In his hands he held his journal and he was scrawling in his journal, however there was no ink on his quill, and so his actions made no mark.  I called his name and he looked up at me, confusion and grief distorting his face."
" He cried out like a petulant child, 'No, No!  You mustn't interrupt, you mustn't!  We must complete the reckoning, we must cleanse, we must sanctify the land, we must, we must.  I am a witness, I am a chronicle, I am a witness, I am a chronicle, we must cleanse, we must complete the reckoning!' He rose, his body wracked with spasms.  He had removed his garb and he stood there naked, the lines of the grass cut into his flesh.  His whole chest was blackened, and blistered.  He was burning within, and as I watched, his skin began to peel, began to give way to flame and tumours grew and popped before my eyes.  I was sickened.  It was then that the villagers all turned towards me, all looked at me, into me!  It was horrid, and I cannot describe the violation which I felt.  I stepped back, unsure of their intentions.  And then they started walking towards me, unrelenting, without a sound.  The first got close to me and just clubbed at me with his arm.  No balling of his fist, with no momentum, he just flailed his arm towards me, and it bounced off of my armor.  I knew not what to do, but still they came, with a vacant look in their eyes.  I turned only to find that the grasslands were engulfed in flame and at that they seemed to grow fearful, gesticulating as if in reverence.  They backed up into the circle and only Tharius stood tall, only Tharius met my eyes with what may be recognition. "
" He taunted me, goading me into doing his purpose 'You sense it don't you Dravis?  You sense it, yes, I can tell.  He's coming, He's Coming!'  I could no longer tolerate this abomination, and so I charged towards them, cleaving into the mob of villagers with my sword.  They fell like lambs in the slaughter, and my bloodlust clouded my vision.  Once I had entered the circle, they began to overwhelm me, but there was nowhere for me to retreat to.  The flames leapt at my back, and my armor grew hot.  I sweltered as I wielded my sword against the throng of peoples marching relentlessly towards me.  And as the last fell I heard laughter, Tharius' laughter."
" 'You have done it Dravis, as I knew you would.  See, I called you here, I needed their blood spilled on this ground, on my sacred ground.  I could not have come here without it, and so I lured them here, and they called to me, empowering me, believing in me, and their actions did more, it drove you to your bloodlust.  And now I have been released, I have come Dravis, and you have delivered me, just as I knew you would.  Just as I willed you to!'  And Tharius was no more, for his flesh burst, split down the center, and from it rose a creature of which I cannot describe.  Flames constantly wept from its eyes, and its fingers were long, curling like sharpened knives, fresh from the furnace.  His mouth gaped before, issuing black smoke, a vortex, sucking me in.  His form was shrouded in darkness, yet eminated a light the likes of which I have never seen.  My eyes ached holding his gaze, and he stamped his hooves, leaving smoldering circles in the flattened grass."

~The (Writer's Block) Cretin~

Offline IronCretin

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Re: Dravis - The Fallen Paladin
« Reply #13 on: June 22, 2007, 11:32:03 am »
"The beast looked skyward, screaming, and his cry reached into my mind, molesting it with small rubber condoms.  I could not help but cry out like a pre-pubescent girl.  This seemed to amuse him, for he let forth the titter of a child and started cooing me, as though to a baby.  "Who's a wittle swordsman?  Is it you?  Is it you?  Oh yes it IS!  Gootchie-Gootchie-Goo!"  My legs turned to gelatin, and I collapsed.  I slowly began to devour my legs. . . As I did so, the mob closed in around me and drew from their scabbards small child's toys to taunt me with.  "Who wants da bunny?!"  They pinched my cheeks, leaving them tender and reddened.  Content that I was flesh, they began to tickle my tummy, one even pressed a bottle to my lips.  I suckled. . . "

"For some bizarre reason my armor was gone, perhaps because the author has lost his mind.  He can feel it. . . turning to slurry, he drinks it, like a slush puppy.  It slurps.  Slurps.  Slurps.  Someone pats my back and I burp."

"I can no longer talk like this, for no grown man would admit this to a tribunal.  I soiled myself. . . repeatedly. . . My sword transformed itself into a large ice cream cone. . . I dropped it and began to cry, seeing it there on the ground, melting.  The ants soon found it and began to devour it. . .  The demon laughed, and then turned into my mommy.  I soiled myself. . . again.  I cannot understand what's happening.  Life seems to be out of control. . . It's as if this is some work of fiction. . . and yet. . . The fluffy bunny seems real. . .  Why?  WHY!?!??! Why do you taunt me with This. Fluffy. BUNNY!?!?!?"

Ummm. . . yeah, LoL.

Well, that's where it'll end here. . . I've written more to this tale. . . ummm, sans this final piece.  Probably better recognised as an abomination. . . LoL, but no one really seems interested, so I thought I'd end it here with something comical, to see if anyone was paying attention.  Thanks to all those who read through it all thus far (if anyone has).  I'm still updating the serious part  in my own time, but not on here. 

~The (Cherry Monkeys Smell Good) Cretin~
« Last Edit: June 23, 2007, 11:30:19 am by IronCretin »