Curse

ImagoX · Jul 06, 2005, 01:42 PM // 13:42

(( post deleted ))...

ownage of teh elite · Jul 06, 2005, 08:11 PM // 20:11

Note:
=-=--=-=-=
Wow, imago, your story is BEAUTIFUL. I enjoyed reading it!!! Nice nice.
My writing style is a tad different, but I hope it improves your wonderful opening.

Writers that inspire me:
+ImagoX
=-=-=-=-=-=-

"No!!! Don't hurt him!!! NO!!!!"

My mother's screams were replaying in my mind.

The events of my 12th birthday were tearing my mind with emotions. Pain, sorrow, lonelyness.... The images were clear...Just as clear as the event that happened 11 years ago.

I laid hiding under my bed, as my mother had directed me to do. The pace of my heart was overwhelming, the fear was growing in me. Tension..anger...

A drunken voice came from my crazed father, loud and unclear.

"MOVE WENCH!!!"

"No!!! He didn't mean to!!!"

"I SAID MOVE!!!!"

The sound of something seemingly big crashing into our wooden door reached my ears. I feared for the worst for my poor mother. Beautiful, small, petite, she was in no condition to match the stature of my father.

"NO!!!!"

I heard another sound of something hitting our wooden door extremely hard, stunning my ears in pain. The sound of a muffled cry, a grunt of eagerness, and lust. I knew what was happening. But I dutifully closed the noises, pressing my hands against my ears, knowing...but not being able to do anything...

Tears streamed down my face. Anger and hate was overwhelming me. I fly into a beserker rage.

My inhuman screams of rage was probably heard by my father, for I didn't hear "the noises" anymore. I felt his footsteps, slowly walking up the stairs to my bedroom. It wasn't long now.

Suddenly, the door opened, and my crazed drunken father walked in. He must've been surprised to see me, Screaming with rage, shaking with anger, powered by fear. My body's tension was building, adrenaline pumping, my beserker rage being powered to the point where I have lost all control.

With inhuman strength, I flew my father backwards from the entrance to my room, with a flying tackle. My senses wanted blood, HIS blood. But I needed to run. Anywhere. I flew down the stairs with inhuman agilty, and reached the door.

My mother was slumped against the wall, evidently dead. And whoever said that people looked like they were at peace when they were dead, were terribly wrong. My mother's dress was ruffled, her skin bruised, her face consorted in a pool of emotions. Pain, suffering, sadness.

I cradled her heads in my arms, kissing her red hair. I needed to leave. My mother's eyes were still open, so I reached over to close them. "I swear mom, by your death, by the old gods of tyria, by the power of the gods, I will avenge you". Her head fell back lifelessly, as I let it fall down.

I walked out the door, never the same. A hurt, torn, twisted mass of pain. Darkness was my savior from that moment.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=END FLASHBACK=-==-==-==-==

I came back to reality, unseemingly fast. My foot was upon a man, bloodied and near to death. This man, a simple farmer, was known to have beaten his wife 8 years ago. But I remembered. I remembered all too well. Evidently, he didn't.

"W...Why?" The pitiful man was croaking, the blood in his mouth didn't gag him yet.

"Do you remember? 8 years ago?" This man was fearful, as he looked at my face. Through 8 years of darkness, 8 years of pain, 8 years of anger, this is what I was now. A sithering mass of darkness. My eyes were yellow like a snakes, my smile jeered at him in a frighteningly evil way, my skin pale and torn. My studies had came with physical pain, as with mental. But oh...After looking at this man's face, it was all too worth it.

A spark of remembrance suddenly entered this man's eyes.

"Va...na...tiel"

"It can't be.....No.....Damn you...GO TO HELL!!!"

I smiled. "Sorry, DAD, I already am."

And with those last words, I turned this man unto the fate of my spells. My spells hurt me, yes, but it was worth it. Watching this man, the murderer of my mother, twist and turn, in pain. I cast every spell of pain, suffering, hurt, on this man. Curses, Death Magic, Blood Magic were my allies, against this man. I was toying with him, always bringing him near death, but not entirely killing him. But he was eventually going to die.

"Pity you couldn't play with me longer."

My father looked at me with eyes of hate and pain. "I..i'm sorry....vana...tiel."

I looked at him, anger quickly transforming my face.

"You can never forgive you for what you did. I will never give your soul rest. May you forever travel the mists, never for your soul to find rest. May the souls of the fallen tear at you."

And with that said, I brang my foot upon his head. After hearing the "crack", I knew he was dead. My revenge was complete.

But this was only the beginning of my story as a Necromancer.
=-=-=-=-=-=

\/aNaTiEl{ReNeGaDe^NeCrOmAnCer}

ownage of teh elite · Jul 07, 2005, 03:50 PM // 15:50

Ohohoho....

Eh, I hope I didn't bust the ratings up to T-M too quickly.

Uhh...

Sorry if my little story was too violent and sexual.

But hey, in my opinion, if your old enough to read this, your old enough to be reading things at this t-m rating.

: D Thanks.

Storm Crow · Jul 10, 2005, 06:55 AM // 06:55

You're stories are great guys! Awesome job! Mine isn't really about a necromancer, but is of death and vengance, so here goes...

Growing up in a small town on the outskirts of the country, Alicia had always been a tomboy. At the age of 10 she could outrun half the boys in the village of which there were only five. At the age of 15 she could handle a horse like the best of the king's riders, even those three times her age. Then one day, something happened she would never forget, the massacre. Among those dead were her parents and older brother, Bjorn, she had always loked up to him and found his death the one she mourned of most. She prayed to Dwayna to give her the strength to overcome her brothers death, and she replied. She, along with the other survivors, had tried their hardest to overcome the event, all watching the gate in the small wall they had built around one of the remaning houses nervously. Alicia was the strongest of those surviving and therefore watched the gate through the night. Nothing much happened here until one night she fell asleep in the watchbox, she dreamed of her childhood, she and Bjorn playing in the field, and of her beloved horse, Garion, who was kept in a stable near the back of the wall. She awoke to the sound of what sounded like the River Drake roaring. Readying her wand with the greatest of care she sent up a flare, warning the rest of the danger, then she wondered why the drake had come from the river which was far away, then she saw a spout of flame and summoned a storm of fire. The drake roared in pain and tried to run but could not stand on his crippled feet. She fired flare after flare, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to take out years of pain on this vile creature. The drake gave a final moan of pain and was dead...

All of the gaurds took their weapons from their places. The sounds of swords unsheathing and bowstrings tightening filled the air. Alicia readied her wand and stared out on the dark ground. Dwayna shone no moonlight upon the open landscape before the wall and ramparts. She remembered the night of the massacre.

All the blackness reminded her of Bjorn. She thought again of the things that had killed her friends and family. Black and scarred with eyes that seemed to be lightless holes into their ruthless souls. They had come to the village quietly that night, cloaked under the shroud of blackness, on this night too was there no moonlight. She had been lucky enough to have been spared, alhough she had not passed with no injury. She had the scars on her arms of the creatue's nails, long and yellow, and she could still feel the burn of sweeping blades accross her back. The scars made a sort of double X, one atop the other. And in the center where the bottom of the first met the top of the second, there was a mark, it was like that of a royal seal, but belonged to no kingdom, like that of a spout of flame, but belonged to no dragon, and like that of one of the pictures of village's artist, Shean, but was too strange to belong on a canvas. She occasionally thought if this was the mark of Dwayna, if it was how she had been spared, or if it was a mark of how brave she would find her soul was, or if it was the mark of her brother's soul, because she vowed to destroy the things that had killed him, or maybe if it was the evil symbol of the creatures that had made her what she was, determined and curageous. Little did she show her back, for the fear that is was a curse, the curse of the vile things that had destroyed what she loved most, the things that had killed her brother.

She lifted her face to the firelight of the torches in the rampart. She looked upon her dear friend, one of the boys that had also survived, Agron. He looked at her, the scars on her arms, her shoulders, and those on her face, which started above her left eye and continued diagonally across her face, three of them there were, one for each family member she had lost, and the pain and tears that were starting to grow in her eyes. "I've done this for one reason," she said, the tears rolling from her eyes and following down her scars, "I'm serving the revenge for the death of my brother."

Agron also had a story. He had been in his bed sound asleep, when the things had creeped into the village. He heard a strange noise and awoke with a jump. Still clinging to the edge of his blanket, he listened. The door quietly squeaked shut. He had enough time to make his bed and quickly hide himself in the closet before he heard his mother's scream. Sharp and painful it rung in his ears. He heard another cry, that of his father. The thing slowly and silently moved up the hall, to his youger sisters room. Hers was the most painful scream that rung in his terrified ears. She was close to his age and had been a lifelong playmate. The thing again moved quietly up the hall, to Argon's room. He heard the door squeak on its hinges as the thing came into the room. The thing looked under the bed and behind the door, trying to find Agron, but to no avail. He had smelled the creature if only for a moment but he rememberd the smell. It was viler than the smell of all of Farmer Hugh's rotten cabbages and was perhaps even viler than that of death. The thing left his room and his home, and no trace of it, except than that of his dead family was left.

Alicia and Agron had taken refuge with the rest of the survivors in the walled home and property, happy that each other had been spared. They lived for three years in the walled home, to the age of 18, at which posint they decided to join the kings army. They thought that maybe if they overcame the Charr that were pressing in on Ascalon, that they could have some ort of closure, to think that they could finally put an end to the screams of their beloved siblings.

"You two!" the captain called,"Get over here!"

For the first time Dwayna had shed light on the battle. Alicia set to work summoning hundreds of fire storms and raising bone minions on the battlefield to do the rest of the work. Argon was setting deathly swarms that quickly engulfed the Charr, then also using their remains to generate minions. Meteor showers and fire storms rained from the sky. Chain lightning and javelins lit the battlefeild, making it look more like a grounded thunderstorm than a battle. Bone minions and deathly swarms surrounding single Charr and suffocationg them in seconds. Healing breezes and orisons healing the soldiers not yet dead and ressurectors quickly bring back thoes who died.

Hours later the battle was finished. The best of the Charr ranks were depleated. Argon and Alicia were among thoes whohad killed most of the Charr. They had killed many for just one person each, but all the blood spilled was not enough. The pain, the screaming, and worst of all, the painful memories of the siblings deaths was what drove them, what still drives them. They wipe out all the areas of the map, anything they were allowed to kill was dead. Hundreds of corpses in a single hour, and all for the sense of closure, to end the screaming and the pain, to put to rest the painful memories of their families deaths. And worst of all, it was all in ragedriven vain....

Driass Inaldu · Jul 12, 2005, 10:05 PM // 22:05

I like the great ideas I'm seeing. Violence, sex, blood, hey, it's necromancers we're talking about here. Still, mine will be a little tamer.

I held my breath a moment and simply listened. Creaks, clicks, and moans. The building settling. The wind. I knew these were natural sounds, but my mind would not rest. Fear sat in the pit of my stomach. Fear that I was doing what I knew to be against all that I was raised to be.

The stone floor felt cold beneath my bare feet as a crept through the hallway. My head screamed out in fear of being caught. My legs quaked with each nervous step, but my feet carried me as though possessed. I made my way to the stairwell door, and cautiously pulled it open. A squeek of the hinge sounded loud as a lion's roar to me, and I quite nearly fled back to my cot. But my nerves held, and I slipped inside, this time lifting the door as I closed it, and it slid quietly shut.

I stood in the darkness, listening as my eyes adjusted. No footsteps. No voices. I had gone unheard, I hoped. I began to see the outline of the cellar stairwell. I cautiously follower the circular staircase downward into darkness. Minutes felt like hours, while I consentrated on moving slowly and carefully. I felt every groove and crack in the old stone staircase. Finally, and almost surprisingly, my foot pressed into soft, sandy soil.

Stepping forward into the cellar I ducked my head beneath the low ceiling expectingly, and thrust my hands forth to feel my way through the pitch black room. I rand my fingers along the shelf by my side as I walked forward. When the shelf ended, I stopped and moved behind it. Safely hidden from the doorway, I retrieved from my pocket a candle and spark kit. Down on my knees I struck the flint and a spark lit up the dark soil beneath me. After a few attempts, the candle was lit, and light began to fill the area.

Around me were jars of preserves, stored goods, and unmarked packages. None of them interested me. I drew from my pocket a scroll case. From it I very carefully retrieved an old scroll. It was very nearly rotting, and the ink was difficult to discern in some places. I had read over it so many times before, I could receipt most by heart. It contained tales of Grenth. His arrival into the world, his followers, and the basics of his teachings. Here, in a Monastary of Dwayna, such a scroll was considered dangerous.

After reading over it once more, I closed my eyes and attempted to meditate. Thoughts continually invaded my consentration. Worries of what the sisters, and my peers, would do if I were caught. Irrational fears. I mentally pushed them away and thought of Grenth. I began to think merely of what his teachings ment, and my interpretation of them. Just as my mind began to relax, I felt comfort. I felt Grenth accepted me as a follower, and nutured what the Sisters of Dwayna had considered flaws.

This was the only time I felt as though I belong, and that I was needed. I accepted it warmly, as my mind turned inwards in meditation.

I will continue this soon.

Driass Inaldu · Jul 13, 2005, 05:48 AM // 05:48

Alright, to keep going.

Something from outside my thoughts roused me. I almost physically shook myself from meditation. Softly I spoke, "Obediance" over and over, slowly opening my eyes. The world slid back into focus. It became obvious why I had been roused. The candle had burnt out. I have been in meditation for hours.

Part of my mind wanted to return to mediatation. It held so much for me. And I was finally beginning to understand. I tore myself away for now, though. Time was running down. I picked up the clump of wax and brushed the dirt about to mask my passing. Dawn had come, and the light filtered down from above.

I hurred up the stairs, and stopped at the top. Learning into the door, I listened carefully. Quiet. I opened it slowly and made my way back to the dormitory. Again my stomach felt pitted and my body quivered anxiously. I looked over the sleeping forms in the dorm. None stirred. I quietly crossed the room, and slid into my bed. The cool sheets offered comfort and safety.

Closing my eyes, I felt my rapid heartbeat pounding. I thought about how fortunate I was to have gone undetected once again. I thought of excuses for being so tired in the coming day. In the back of my mind I thought about how I cannot go undetected forever. But more than anything I reflected on my meditation. I felt close to understand his teachings, or at least my own interpretation of them.

And, for the first time in my life, I began to feel at peace.

It was three more years before I was discovered. It wasn't my late night meditation. It wasn't the Sisters of Dwayna searching the rooms. It was the error or making a friend.

Jeviana was a few years younger than I, and she seemed to be going through the same troubles I had at her age. At the orphanage, we all spent our lives surviving through each other. With no one else, we cling to each other. But for a few, there is something worse than being alone and forgotten in the outside world. Being alone inside, ostracized by your peers. I felt her pain, as it reflected my own. And so I became close to her.

We spoke often, and I began to believe I had made my first friend. She was going through the rough time many girls do in their mid teens, and like I had, she began to rebel and turn away from the teachings of Dwayna. For me, Grenth had simply been the best way to turn on my authority figures, but it had become so much more than that. And I wished to share that.

For several weeks it was terrific. She was hesitant at first, and the more she learned, the more excited she became. Then came the day when I found out she had told others of my new faith. She had been for quite some time, it was merely slow to reach the sisters. Finally my conversion had caught up to me. The looks of the other girls, the harsh words of the sisters, all the events of that day quite nearly broke my spirit.

Jeviana couldn't even look at me. As I was ejected from the monastary, she cast her eyes downward the entire time. That hurt more than anything else. I walked away from my youthful home, still very much a girl. Grenth teaches one to understand pain, and that day taught me lessons I shall never forget.

It was then that I turned my eyes to the north. Rumors spoke of trouble in Ascalon, and perhaps such a place would accept a desciple of Grenth out of desperation. Orr was no longer my home. I would never see it again. Not as it was.

Storm Crow · Jul 13, 2005, 12:36 PM // 12:36

thats pretty good Driass. you could continue it a little further though.

Driass Inaldu · Jul 13, 2005, 03:00 PM // 15:00

Thanks. I may, we'll see. We've kinda got an "origins" thing going on. Taking mine further would be taking her into the game almost.

Storm Crow · Jul 13, 2005, 04:53 PM // 16:53

well if you didnt want to continue it to the game you could do some sort of prelude...just a suggestion

ownage of teh elite · Jul 13, 2005, 07:12 PM // 19:12

"There He Is!!! After him!"

I cursed at the townspeople following me. They were ultimately egotistic, and couldn't even spare a piece of food for a hungry necromancer. These damned people were actually going to mob me, to take back a piece of bread.

My tormenter armour was very good at scaring people. My scarred face, snake-like eyes, and Spiked Red hair helped also. But these people had lost all previous fear of me, when I have first appeared and threatened them, making them hand over a piece of bread.

Yes, stealing was against my beliefs, but hell, I was hungry. These people just didn't understand how it felt to be hurt by your OWN spells, trying to fight off monsters. I have starved for three weeks, and it would be hell to pay if these people were to take back my piece of bread.

I rounded a corner of the streets, and nearly ran into another necromancer.

With the brief glimpse of her, I could see that she was around my age...in her early twenties. Pale, ice cold skin, silky silver hair, and it was her eyes that captured me. Plain, beautiful, cold, icey eyes. This lady sure was beautiful, for a necromancer. Unlike all other female necromancer's I have come upon, this lady actually had a beautiful composure, body, and face.

Spinning around her, I whispered "Sorry" in her ear.

She flashed me a smile, and she looked extremely beautiful.

"Damn Vantiel..Stop getting side-tracked" I said out loud.

Urging my feet to keep on moving, I could see that the townspeople still haven't given up. The fat store keeper who was leading them actually could run. I could barely contain myself as I watched the fat woman bounce about, trying to match my speed.

Jumping over a gate, I ran through a market.

Perfect, I thought to myself.

With all these people, I quickly blended into the crowd.

But I was the only necromancer here. My tormenter armour didn't help erasing my identity either. Looking around, I spotted a group of half naked dancers. Two elementalist, and the SAME necromancer my eyes beheld just minutes before.

How did she beat me here?!

It didn't matter, for the mob was approaching, and was intent on searching the whole marketplace for the necromancer in tormenter's armour.

Taking my tormenter armour off, save for my leggings and my shoes, I ran to the group of dancers.

Heck, I was going to dance with some of my clothes on.

The piece of bread had given me enough troubles.
I was going to eat it.

Biting it, I realized that it wasn't even good. Disgusting, crunchy and sickening, it tasted bitter to me. I don't know, maybe it was just my half dead state that mad me lose my sense of taste.

I didn't care if they caught me now.

I sure as hell wasn't going down, naked, save for my boxers.

Running to the beautiful female necromancer, I jumped up on the mini stage and danced my heart out.

She smiled, evidently remembering me, from the incident.

And I smiled back, re-assuring her that I was no creep, looking for a good time.

She probably knew my ordeal, for she danced with me, as If I was their own.

And hell, she was a good dancer.

EDIT:
I apologize for me taking rash words to what you have said.
I hope I wasn't that mean to you.
And yet again, miss storm crow, I apologize.

Storm Crow · Jul 13, 2005, 09:11 PM // 21:11

woah....flashback there. Question for u ownage, have you read my posts in my other RPG thread?? The one with Sanjinu Dalsworth in it?? (Sorry would post a title but it doesnt exactly have one...

I will post a quote though

Quote:

He untwisted them letting her long silver hair fall from it's normal position...

and if you want to confirm that quote I'll post a link 15th post, 3rd paragraph, last line)

ownage of teh elite · Jul 14, 2005, 12:06 AM // 00:06

Quote:

Originally Posted by Storm Crow

woah....flashback there. Question for u ownage, have you read my posts in my other RPG thread?? The one with Sanjinu Dalsworth in it?? (Sorry would post a title but it doesnt exactly have one...

I will post a quote though and if you want to confirm that quote I'll post a link 15th post, 3rd paragraph, last line)

Okay,

Miss Storm Crow,

This necromancer girl was based solely off of my opinions, my beliefs, and my thoughts

Maybe Eve had a bit to do with it...

Pretty Eve..on my guildwars cover....

OI!

Back to the subject.

My Characters are not AT ALL connected to ANYONE elses Character!

EDIT:

I have seen your post, miss storm crow, and I apologize for taking rash words towards you.

With extreme embaressment,
Vanatiel

Storm Crow · Jul 14, 2005, 04:25 AM // 04:25

Okay then. Apology accepted. Sorry if the previous post sounded a little snotty, It wasnt meant to be...

But good story still. Plz continue!
~Storm

and oh yea, my female necro has silver hair, not like Eve's tho, it didnt look too good with her face, which, to put it in best perspective, is snake eyed, (and no I didnt copy that off of yours, thats the way my dad and I made her).....just a little tidbit of information

ownage of teh elite · Jul 16, 2005, 05:14 PM // 17:14

Uhh...

I can't really think of anything else, that would lead our characters in the same path, without making a strict rule breaker.

So could you please continue?

Storm Crow · Jul 16, 2005, 09:04 PM // 21:04

I could continue it, you did say there were two eles dancing right?...

One of the eles looked over at the new addition to their dancing group. He looked familiar. Perhaps she had seen him in a town before. She concentrated on her dancing again. Her mind kept wandering back to the new necro.

She was about to say something when she noticed a group of townsfolk pushing their way through the narrow market street. The necro looked behind at the townsfolk and took off in a dead run, pulling on bits of his armor as he ran. The townsfolk quickly followed on his path...

Sorry, It's short, but I couldnt think of anything else