Each character nominated has up to three sample posts. Happy voting!

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Garthag - Star Crystal (Curunir)
3 posts

[Post #1]
The child struggled, and whimpered, too bad for her yet not bad enough as he was going to keep her alive. The shrimp in his grasp didn`t seem to understand his questions, but no wonder, children usually tended to get so very confused. When she didn`t answer, Garthag grinned slightly and was prepared to slap her across the face, not a thing he greatly admired, but he hated it when anyone proved difficult. Then again he could try to convince her with friendly words, but unfortunately Garthag had never been the type that was able to persuade people to his side. He had come to see that with people like Merrin, who had refused his friendly offer of help just because he had been after power. Garthag prepared to drag the girl near the fire and make her sit down near it, but the sword tip suddenly lingered very near the edge of his throat forced him into other thoughts. He turned his gaze at the man holding the sword and his eyes showed that the man`s appearance did little to frighten or convince him.

Neither did the harsh command of the man force him to obey, but the steel of his sword was another factor Garthag did account for. Yet the words of the man showed clear hesitation, obviously this man had not killed anyone in his life. He himself telling about his minor sword skills and looking down at magic told very much about the man, not to mention his methods. He was like the rest of the mob perhaps, they feared magic and other things beyond their grasp. No doubt he was a simple man without greater knowledge of whom had stumbled upon his humble villages outskirts.

"Tricks? Some nerve you have there peasant, but very well, I shall do ask you ask"

Garthag said as he let go of Kiril and turned to look at the man face to face. The sword still gleamed about his throat, too close, but then again Garthag had some options left to him yet none of them were none too peaceful. Instead of disappearing into the thin air or trying to scorch the man in a sea of flames, Garthag decided to turn to diplomacy and find out something about this place. It was obvious that the man didn`t have a very good impression based on what he had seen. Yet perhaps mentioning Merrin and the others might have some effect.

"I apologize for that, I am on a bad mood and the rough handling of that child was merely because she seemed rather... hysterical and partially due to my frustration about losing my friends... You haven`t seen any travelers nearby? A rather rugged looking fellow and a woman, who might have gone trough a lot? Merrin the dragonrider people tend to call her, is there any chance you have met anyone by that name?"

Garthag inquired, but he didn`t appear, he didn`t need to nor did he want to. Yet the way he spoke was simply enough to hint that he was interested in what was going on in the nearby area or had there been any other strangers near the village.


[Post #2]
Garthag`s eyes remained the same as he turned to stare at the dagger sticked out of the wall and pulled it off with a quick, sharp pull. He took the dagger in his hand and pressed the tip against his other hand`s index finger starting to spin the dagger by the handle. Garthag stared at the dagger as the tip drilled trough the skin and made a drop of blood to stain the daggers steel. Kendath surely was not one to back down from a debate, wanting to prove himself right, perhaps even believing that he could make Garthag realize his point. Yet what Kendath spoke of sounded so hollow and distant to the mage who had spent his years in pursuit of power.

"I killed my family you know"

Garthag suddenly said with a calm and unshakable tone as he observed the dagger tip covered in blood. There was perhaps a hint of grief in his words, but otherwise it seemed like a cold statement presenting the facts. He could sense a moment of absolute silence descending upon the room and expected to see either a shocked or despising expression on Kendath`s face. Garthag silently stared at Kendath before hmhing and gazing outside with a certain emptiness in his eyes.

".... and burned down the village I lived in"

The sea of flames swallowed the group of wooden shacks that stood at the mountain side, the heat was unbearable as the flames rose ever higher and a lonely youngster stared as the buildings began to collapse. Charred corpses lay on the ground and those few who still lived were engulfed in flames, running around desperate trying to get rid of the flames as they consumed their flesh, turning their skins pitch black. The youngster stood quietly staring at the horror and devastation that took place, knowing that he could not do anything to stop the process he had already begun.

Then he saw the modest shack where he had once lived crumble down in flames, collapsing onto his sisters and mother who were still inside. His hands covered in burn wounds and his white robe had been burned in many places, leaving black spots and holes behind. He had not dared to do anything else, but watch as the fire spread at a terrible speed and magnitude, creating a huge bonfire made out of wooden, hay and humans. It could be seen many miles away into almost every direction, especially it was visible to a small group of travelers that decided to head towards it.

Garthag hmhed at the memories as, if they were worth something or actually nothing, but he was not one to dwell on the past. Besides there had been no way of taking responsibility for his actions, everyone had to fend for themselves in the frozen north and he would have died had it not been for the skyseekers.


[Post #3]
Garthag`s fingers finally reached Liliane`s cheek only as, if to confirm her existence, frightened that she might turn into ash and scatter at any moment. As everything seemed calm, there was a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts raging inside Garthag himself. This could not be real, she was not her, and she had died years ago. On that night in the village, she had been taken as a trophy by the demon, just for the fun of it and as it had felt to it`s home plane it had dragged her with down into that hellish existence as well. However simply the sight of his, pure and innocent sibling made Garthag simply want to try to save her somehow all tough he knew that any attempt would be futile. She was an illusion, an image crafted out of his memory, which was exactly why she felt as real as in essence it was her. He wished to save her, despite how futile it seemed, but he knew he couldn’t and he felt doubt creeping into his mind.

Was this his limit in holding back his emotions? Was this what the great Garthag had been reduced to? How had he ever hoped to become powerful? When he couldn’t bear to see the image of his torn up sister, a girl, who had died years ago, still awoke those feelings in him. The ambition and the coldness inside him demanded him to snuff out the pathetic excuses, they told he was being deceived and the image before him should be evaporated in order to advance. It was so simple to remove and obstacle in order to advance, this wouldn’t be any different from all those others. He had lusted for power and worked too long to let this happen, this had to stop, he couldn’t allow himself to...

"It’s fine bro, I won’t feel bad, if you kill me. On the contrary I would be happy, I won’t hold a grudge…."

Liliane said with a forgiving yet surprisingly chilling voice and that voice again crept into Garthag`s soul, wounding hi,. He felt angry, he wanted to slap her across the face, but he held his hand for the sake of his memories. After a moment of silence Liliane seemed to lose consciousness and would have slipped onto her face into the snowy ground had Garthag not grabbed her. Garthag quietly examined his sister, who rested in his arms in such calamity it always amazed him how such a tortured soul could do so.

He bit his teeth together in an attempt trying to stop himself from shedding tears; he tried to control the floodgates as the pitiful image of his beloved sister laid in his arms. So fragile and weak, she was like a flower before a blizzard, doomed to perish before her time. She must have been insane yet at that time what she said always seemed to be the sanest things he would ever hear come out of anyone’s mouth.

"Bro.... After the night it, that demon you vanquished and saved me from, took me. It cast a shadow before my eyes, it couldn’t see anymore; only hear it in the darkness. From the darkness it always came, seeking for more and more pleasure, I became it’s rag doll. It cut me, smashed my bones, drowned me and toyed with me. All I could hear was the gnashing of it’s teeth, heavy breath and movements, then there was the laughter and it’s taunts. It drove me insane, being tortured for no reason and never receiving anything, but hate towards me.

It struck me and mocked me; I didn’t scream at first and tried to hold up, hoping that it would let me go soon. However in time it didn’t let me go; it continued to taunt me and told me that you had survived alone. So... I hoped you’d come for me... all those years passed and at first I tried to push away the pain by thinking about you and mom. But the memories weren’t enough and you never came for me; I had to grow up on my own, down in that dark hellish pit. I realized that you might not come or couldn’t come, that my fate was sealed and that I would have to submit to hoping that upon it’s whims the demon would end my life one day.

However I couldn’t forget about mom, you or the village folk. They were always there, so I hoped you would go out into the world and become a great mage as you always dreamed like those in the stories old man Ignas used to tell the villagers. Now that you are here and you saved me from that thing, I know you’ve already achieved what you dreamed of, at least somehow. You can live on your life now and live the dream you had, but I have one selfish request bro, kill me."

Liliane explained with a tone that changed from horrified to sorrowful, but yet during all that time she wore a smile on her face making Garthag wonder whether she had lost more her sanity in the demons hands. Such scars could never be removed, she could never be healed after what was done to her, but she could still live on. But what kind of life would have that been, a blind helpless youngster being cared by her older brother, who could have a life of his own, if not his devotion to his family?

She wished for her own death, she saw the fate before her and only wished for release from the pain that was life. Living on had become a burden, a pain that did no longer want to endure. Suddenly Liliane burst into tears, only sinking the dagger deeper into Garthag`s soul and heart, he was already bleeding, could they not see that? Were these tests meant to rip him open like this or were it his memories, that did so instead of the test itself? It didn`t really matter as he tried to resist what was to come, tried to steer fate and the past into another direction.

“Stop it Lily, I can’t… just.. Kill you, my own flesh and blood, not after the time and effort I went trough. I’ve done it once, I barely did it then and doubted myself every step of the way, I still do… You always ask the impossible of me.”

Garthag pleaded trying to reverse the events of the past, he didn’t want to go trough this again, it was the very thing that made him what he was today. It was the day he decided abandon all emotions, pity and remorse, freeze his heart that he couldn’t be harmed again or that he would not harm anyone else again like that. Was this a reversal of those events, going trough it again would force him to feel the pain, the guilt and the grief he had suffered? He didn’t want it, but still the words to come would compel him to obey. They were not a command, but a pleading from a tortured being that still held onto her innocence and those words would compel him far more efficiently than any command.

"Bro, let me go, I can’t go on by myself, it hurts. I just wanna see mom, alright? I can’t go on like this; I just wanna sleep with the rest, can’t I? Just this once be an irresponsible brother and hurt me, if not for me then for yourself that you won’t have to see me like this! I don… don’t wanna hol..d you back anymo… re.."

Liliane said with a tearful, trembling voice as Garthag for once gazed at her with horrified eyes, so there was no changing the past, he had already once had the chance to help her with the crystal, but he had not wanted to. He had believed that chapter of his life to have been buried and forgotten, that no strings had attached him to his old life anymore. He now knew he was wrong, he could hide it and fake whatever he felt, but before this image couldn’t lie to himself. She was dead and gone already, he couldn’t save her anymore and he would once more have to let her go.

With a tear starting to slowly fall off his cheeks, Garthag grabbed the hilt of his dagger with a trembling hand and raised the blade into a strike. The very same dagger, which had taken the life of his master, would now take that of his sisters, the one person he had protected and cared for the most. The dagger gleamed in the dim lighting of the ice cavern and like a fang sank into the chest of the helpless little being in his arms. The horrid silence and once again the realization of what he had done would have driven Garthag to scream were it not for the last words that escaped the lips of Little Liliane.

“Thanks bro…”

She said faintly and before he knew it, she was far away, beyond his reach and underground, buried where his village once stood. Garthag realized that he too was there, standing on a snowy barren strip of land near the slopes of a great mountain. Before him rose a stone wall, in this stone wall he had once carved the name of all those, who had died at this sight. Their bodies were buried as best as they could have, only Liliane`s body had been saved from the flames and the rest were bones or ash.

Garthag took few shaking steps towards the wall before collapsing on his knee`s before it and placing his hand against it, his hand laid upon the very last three names, which belonged to a certain once content family.
Liliane and Garthag, were the names he had carved on the wall in order to signify his own transcendence and detachment from this place. That was the greatest lie he had ever made, the one that was meant to deceive none other than himself.

“Forgive...”

Garthag muttered a fading word with a tearful and frustrated voice as he placed his head against the wall, hoping that it would fade away. What had he become? In search for power, had he forsaken that in, which his family had believed in? Had he betrayed them by doing what he had done? They wouldn’t have recognized him anymore, if they were alive, they would have only seen a perversion of the talented young man whom they had cared for.

What the hell was he? Human? In-human or sub-human? Was he a human, who had simply forsook what made him human yet still tried to convince himself, that he was a human being and proud of it? Or was he a cold monster, which had these memories and feelings that he could not tear free from? However why was he then feeling these things? These emotions? Why the hell had he already shed tears like this? That one night Kendath had accused him of being a coward, fearing his own humanity and he had just laughed at it. He had even gone as far as laying to the assassin about the fate of his village in order to shock the man, but what if Kendath had a point all along? Was he a coward? Who knew, all he wanted was to for this to stop, he had enough of it all.

No more pain, no more of these memories or questions storming inside him, it was enough to see all he had once had perish before him once, but twice was too much especially when it felt too real. Garthag took a deep breath and sighed, he wiped away the few tears that had escaped the flood gates and leaned against the wall, quietly staring into the distance. He saw a winged figure amidst the mountain peaks, gliding ever so free and majestic in it’s frozen domain, but he hardly cared anymore.

Let the lizards fly, they are of no concern or threat, they never mattered to him nor would. Only the magic and what he held dear did, only the magic he had left, but even now that power felt hollow and empty…


Jateyani Ralkaien - Phantom Grey (Nurrantiel Mashiara)
2 posts

[Post #1]
Jate felt a flash of irritation at the Phantom's remark. I could too know any plans if I wanted to, he thought to himself.
"Worried. Let's see, maybe the thought that some outsider is coming into the kingdom, killing his soldiers and stirring up rebellion in the outer places wouldn't worry you if you were in charge, but I think the Regent may actually care a bit more about his people than that." Jate grimaced inside at his sarcastic edge, wondering how the Phantom would take it. "But, of course, he doesn't feel any great threat from a group of band-" Jate closed his mouth tightly. What was he thinking, volunteering all of this?
He tried to buy time, casting his eyes about the room. A slip of a map caught his eye, buried under some papers on the desk. Jate's mind began to race. Keep calm. If I can somehow manage to see that map, I might find out where we are. And then escape and lead the Regent right here! I'll be a hero! Jate tried to think of some way to look at the map.


[Post #2]
Jate paused for a while before he spoke. What would it be like to be royal? He knew what it was like to be a noble, but royalty? He had lived for a year near the royal chambers and had some semblance of an idea. If they snapped their fingers, they had ten servants ready and waiting. They had the best food and the best clothes. Yet even after living by the chambers for a year, he still couldn't get over the splendor and magnificence of everything within. And it might be his? Jate felt as if he was still in a daze, a dreamlike state that could burst at any moment. Yet the realities were all too clear. After all, he had almost been killed by elves. That thought brought him back.

"At the moment, I'd say being royal feels an awful lot like being a rebel on the run from murdering elves and avoiding capture," he said with a wry grin. "And apparently, royalty are extremely hungry and have sore feet." He contemplated this thought for a moment. "I don't suppose there's any chance of decent food between here and Griffin's Fells. The whole getting there thing takes precedence, unfortunately."

Remembering the Phantom's earlier comment, Jate continued. "I don't think I can really tell you my family history. As far as I know, the Ralkaiens don't have any royal blood in them. And I ought to know. Lady Prima made me sit through about thirty hours of her reciting the wonderful bloodline that I should be so thrilled to be a part of. That was a penance for complaining about my father. Which, now," he brightened "he may not be my father after all. That would be nice."


----------------------
Jate wondered why the Phantom seemed so hesitant to spell out that particular idea. "Well, I don't think there's anyone else, and I certainly seem to be, if not wholly embraced, at least welcome in this group. I'm not quite sure of all the help I can give, but I'll most definitely accept yours." He gave a small grin at the look on the older man's face. "Did you expect me to throw a fit and say I wanted you out of my sight? Come now, I thought you had more respect for me than that."

Slinging his pack off his back, Jate carefully tucked the Heartshard inside. "I think I'll need a better way to carry this. Packs are too easily stolen or lost. Although, anyone trying to steal it may get blasted into the lowest level of the underworld, but you never know."


Kendath - Star Crystal (Lady Dark Moon)
3 posts

[Post #1]
Shrugging seemed to be Kendath's habitual excuse for evading a question. He found his curiousity vaguely piqued nonetheless. "Why help the gods?" he asked. "Do you not desire... a respite from their tyranny?"


[Post #2]
The pair of them, dragon and rider, stood upon a small rise overlooking the campfire. The moon sailed high, glinting on Wyvern's silver scales and illuminating the white of the other, unknown dragon.

This is the end.

Surprised by the tone of finality in his dragon's voice, Kendath glanced at him sharply.

Meiltha or neutral I can tolerate, but Renegade I will not bear.

I never said -

This time, not rage but sorrow tinged Demon's thoughts. He dipped his head and looked into his rider's eyes. I know you too well, Ken. No matter how you hid it, you were always possessed of a certain weakness called compassion. The gods shall win you over in the end. He breathed and Kendath's face and gently twined his neck around his torso. Farewell, Kendath.

Choking back bitter tears, Kendath clutched his dragon as if clutching life itself. A moment later Demon spread his massive wings, and, staring at his rider one last time, lifted into the night air.

Numb to the core and angry at the world, Kendath did the only thing left to him. He turned and started down for the campfire.


[Post #3]
Kendath extended an arm and traced the portal's blue glow. It pulsated beneath his hand, tingling his finger with a strange warmth. Around him towered the newly birthed forest, resplendent in springtime. Birdsong trilled in the interwoven canopy above. A speck like a snowflake drifted down past him. He caught it and held it. The white petals, tipped in orange, opened up in his palm. Life from death. He turned over his hand and let the blossom continue its fluttering way to the ground.

A tiny step towards the portal, then another. It amazed him how hard it was to place one foot in front of the other, yet how easy it was to want to collapse on the bed of sun-drenched soil and sleep the troubles away. He glanced behind him again and stopped, surprised. Merrin wasn't following. She stood a little ways to the side, gaze downcast, face drawn like it always seemed to be these days. Even fire failed to warm her cheeks.

"I can't do this," she whispered.

The rush of raw emotions shocked him, nearly toppled him over. It had him twisting around to stare at her, his jaw slack. He hastily closed it, only to fight the urge to open his mouth again and - against all reason - yell at her. Seize her by the shoulders. Shake her. Scream at her, Not you. Not you. Why? It's not that hard - just step through the portal! Merrin wasn't supposed to hesitate. Merrin wasn't supposed to have doubts. She was supposed to be strong - stronger than their enemies - and press forth while all others floundered. She was supposed to have faith, to shove the white fire before death's blood-red eyes and say, Here! Here are the gods! She was supposed to believe.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kendath snarled. Snarled - at Merrin? He strode toward her and tilted her chin up so that she'd be forced to meet his gaze. "What's wrong with you? Did you suffer their agony for this? Did you come so far only to stop and stand like a coward when it's almost over? You told them to believe. You told me to believe. Why this? Why now?" He could no longer restrain himself. He grabbed her by the arms and shouted, "Where is your faith?"


Merrin - Star Crystal (Meldawen)
2 posts

[Post #1]
Merrin felt as though her very heartbeat would disturb the curious silence that blanketed the temple, perhaps awaken some long-asleep - Guardian. A shiver coursed up her spine. But the chest was right there.

Tentatively, her breath coming in nervous spurts, she advanced along the slender stone walkway, awed by the silence and the beauty of what must have been a glorious structure in days gone by. When Merrin moved her hand to rest on the hilt of her rapier she discovered it was trembling, and stopped for a moment to take a long, shaky breath. She subconsciously expected some monster to emerge from the empty expanse of floor, once a miniature sea, that spread below her - but at the same time she hoped that one would not.


[Post #2]
Merrin tipped her head back, back until her eyes escaped the walls of night and found a dark vault tinted eerily green. Escaped. No. There was no escape, and there would be no dawn for these heavens, now or ever. Slits in the silent towers were windows into a soul utterly tainted. Shadows donned even blacker cloaks and tugged at the edges of her vision, taunting.

And there she stood. In the jaws of night, the lone soul whose fire could keep the darkness at bay. The night sneered its derision. Peasant girl. Little chit. Foolish child. This is the Chosen of the Gods? How could you ever think you had a chance? How many lies did your gods whisper into your ears -

"Leave me alone!"

The words rebounded, from the obsidian ramparts to the towers of darkest night to the walls that closed a pentagon as though summoning the deepest denizens of the underworld. The whispers stopped, measuring her, judging how long she would last before they found a crack, a flaw, and she shattered. Alone? You'll always be alone. Always.

Enough! Merrin heaved a breath, and fire leapt from her fingers, fire that flared its own defiance.

What did they think? Did they think her pathetic, weak, the only pitiful soul available for exiled gods to instill with the last vestiges of dying power? Did they hold her in such contempt that they thought insidious whispers could bring her to her knees, cowering before their vile, monstrous threats? She clenched her teeth and thrust the fire skyward, up as though it could sear the taint of darkness from the very starless void so high above and purify even this bastion of evil.

The shadows retreated to their lairs, lurking just past the edge of her fiery defiance. Slowly, Merrin swiveled in a circle, daring them to come out, come out and face her, hover on her shoulders and tell her coward's lies -

Black doorways yawned. Black windows beckoned. Sphere of flame still poised like hope's last lantern in her hand, two strides took her to where a tiny silver figurine had clattered from the air. Merrin picked it up and watched the white flame catch its diamond eyes and bring them alive. Three times. Two were gone.

The shadows repeated their irresistible call. Face us, Merrin Dragonrider.

Moments. Moments, and then that call would drag her where it would. The light flared brighter, and as Merrin ran to Adeila she was already unslinging her pack and caressing the tiny dragon's sinuous curves one last time. There had been no goodbye for Wyvern. "Take this," she said, pressing it into Adeila's hands and clinging to the familiarity of the older woman's face. "Say his name - Wyvern - say his name, and he'll come, and if there's any way to get out of here -"

The darkness choked her. Merrin's words stumbled over themselves. "The ramparts," she managed. Trembling fingers undid her weapons belt and held it out, because her saber was nothing against the evil here. "Get up on the ramparts, somehow, and once it's safe - if it's safe - call him. If I can't..."

This time it dealt her a blow that left her mute. If I can't...no! No! If I can, when I CAN!

One more moment to press the dragon into Adeila's hands. Merrin stared first at her, then down at the glimmer of silver. Slowly, so slowly, she took a step backward. Another step. Now the globe of light convulsed and flared and Merrin ripped her gaze from it to take in Adeila's face one more time.

Goodbye. Her lips could not form the word, but her mind echoed with it. She turned and ran, flame upheld in one palm, searching, searching -

There. Gates of iron bars whispered Merrin, Merrin, and yawned their invitation to the tallest tower. Her flame flickered palely against the innards of darkness' lair, whose walls had never been touched by torchlight. As her feet passed over the threshold her flame swelled to combat night's shadows. Face me! I am young, I am a peasant girl, I am a child! But I am the Chosen of the Gods!

And in answer, iron clanged behind her.

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