Discord
Changelog
12-27-2015, 03:50 PM
Everything was dark around the elven maiden. It is how it began every night. The sound of the storm rolled in. The light of the storm would cut momentarily through the fog of blackness, revealing all sorts of terrors both real and imagined. Slowly closing in. Then she appeared.
During the lightning strikes, a bright reflection of the maiden that carried a blade. It was hard to trace her exact place. Only seen in the moments after the symbol of Talos's fury struck. Each time near the other woman, protecting her. Fighting those that would consume her in the dark. Each time she was seen, her bright garb was stained deeper red. Chains that weren't there before threatening to drag her down. Yet as each flash of bright light appeared there she was protecting her reflection. It was thought she was the light, to protect her from the darkness as the storm passed. But she knew she was more than that. She -was- the storm itself.
Her blade cracked, the blade shattering deep in the side of the cruel outsider. It thought it had won, the end of her blade buried deep within. Yet, even then the protector did not back down. It had been forced into retreat. She had sunken to her knees. The burden of the chains proved to be too great. The storm continued even as the protector of light that had been stained in the blood and sins faded away. All that was left amidst the darkness was the sword. A broken and shattered weapon.
Two paths had been illuminated in the darkness. One to a life of uncertainty, but a peaceful and calm one. The way had been marked in the blood of Maiden of the Storm without regret. The other to riches and a life of luxury and security. Though a life with the stench of metal and chains. Either one she would be loved. Either one would see her safely from the storm.
The blade's hilt felt the tender caress of the maiden's touch as she picked up the battered and broken weapon off of the ground, saving it from returning to nothingness. There wasn't much left of it. Crumbling, without its edge and without its form. Little was left of the sword but the desire to protect the one that held it. What little courage was held onto for the darkest of nights, combined with an overwhelming torrent of madness that some would know as obsession.. perhaps even love. Those hopes. Those desires. Carried back deep into the dark by the maiden into a life shrouded in the shadow of the storm. The blade would remain her's and always at her side.
During the lightning strikes, a bright reflection of the maiden that carried a blade. It was hard to trace her exact place. Only seen in the moments after the symbol of Talos's fury struck. Each time near the other woman, protecting her. Fighting those that would consume her in the dark. Each time she was seen, her bright garb was stained deeper red. Chains that weren't there before threatening to drag her down. Yet as each flash of bright light appeared there she was protecting her reflection. It was thought she was the light, to protect her from the darkness as the storm passed. But she knew she was more than that. She -was- the storm itself.
Her blade cracked, the blade shattering deep in the side of the cruel outsider. It thought it had won, the end of her blade buried deep within. Yet, even then the protector did not back down. It had been forced into retreat. She had sunken to her knees. The burden of the chains proved to be too great. The storm continued even as the protector of light that had been stained in the blood and sins faded away. All that was left amidst the darkness was the sword. A broken and shattered weapon.
Two paths had been illuminated in the darkness. One to a life of uncertainty, but a peaceful and calm one. The way had been marked in the blood of Maiden of the Storm without regret. The other to riches and a life of luxury and security. Though a life with the stench of metal and chains. Either one she would be loved. Either one would see her safely from the storm.
The blade's hilt felt the tender caress of the maiden's touch as she picked up the battered and broken weapon off of the ground, saving it from returning to nothingness. There wasn't much left of it. Crumbling, without its edge and without its form. Little was left of the sword but the desire to protect the one that held it. What little courage was held onto for the darkest of nights, combined with an overwhelming torrent of madness that some would know as obsession.. perhaps even love. Those hopes. Those desires. Carried back deep into the dark by the maiden into a life shrouded in the shadow of the storm. The blade would remain her's and always at her side.