***STORY copied under Salty Dog Tavern for progenitors' sake. This was written in conjunction of the final battle event HERE *** Catalin rattled absently at the chains that were fastened tight by some bedeviled witchcraft. The moment replaying in his mind as Isobel fell to one of the murderous spells of Kalimus’ pupils. “I’m certain,” he muttered to himself. He was certain he had cured her in time… what corrupted spell could have taken his Isobel? The memory was not clear, and he was certain there was a stolen memory. He shuddered as he recalled with clarity the moments afterwards. The sickening sucking sound his spear made as it was pulled from Isobel’s abdomen. The clink it made as it tapped her bustier as she fell to the ground, their eyes locked in a final, infinitely agonzing gaze. In the fog of war, it is not uncommon for a friendly blade to find an unfortunate mark, but this was not a frenzied clash of a thousand blades. This was supposed to have been a simple bounty collection: Slay the rogue mages, return their heads to the Occlo magistrates, and retire at the inn with plenty of ale. Try as he might, he failed to convince himself she succumbed to a haphazard thrust. A menacing laugh interrupted Catalin’s despairing, “It seems the leprechauns beguilement worked better than I had thought. You thought their mischief ended when you slew them? Oh now, was that YOUR spear that pierced your beloved's heart? Yes, and under enchantment or no, you'll have that memory to cherish the rest of your life!” Catalin lurched at the chains which pulled in retaliation and threw him back upon the ground. Kalimus found this amusing and laughed again as he proceeded to divulge his plan without any petition, and clearly without any thought that his prisoner would escape his current predicament. “You’ve no idea what comes for men who don’t serve the void. What you thought you were hunting as a common bounty of some brigandish mages, has been my ruse to harvest organs to offer up to the master when he arrives. Though he is devoid of all human notion such as benevolence and grace, he surely will reward those who feed him by absolution into his being, as opposed to those who will become his defecation.” Although he doubt he’d ever recover from the loss of a love as pure and passionate as Isobel’s, Catalin was not a stranger to the pain of loss. He had lost countless comrades before today, and he was certain he would lose countless more before he found peace in his lifetime or in the paradise to come. He grinned past the pain and interrupted Kalimus’ soliloquy, “The air, seems dry in here doesn’t it?” he smacked his lips as he finished the last word. Kalimus’ expressioned moved quickly from resolute victory to utter shock to sheer rage and then to cognizance of finality all in a single second. He wasn’t even spared a chance to draw a final gasp before the water elemental’s hand condensated into solid form through his chest in a fatal strike and then retracted it leaving a gaping hole through which Catalin could see the Vapor’s master – Jon Snow of Ocllo. “Good to see you Catalin,” Jon offered a hand and lifted Catalin up then nodded at his retainer and then to the chains. The elemental dutifully struck at the chains. “Sadly, though, I help you out of this predicament only to alert you to another. While we appreciate your assistance in our time of need, you can no longer run from that which beckons you. We few can stay here to keep vigil over the island of Ocllo - the roads to Paws once more need your patrols.” Catalin thanked Jon for his timely liberation, and knew he spoke true. The village of Paws, absent the grey wizard, needed patrols now more than ever. ******************************************** *Catalin arrives at Paws after a calamitous expedition with dozens of harrowing encounters that would fill volumes of loricrons and history books if only he had had the forethought to hire a competent bard to accompany him. But, since he compensates me only with bread crumbs and day dreams for my services, this is all you get. He arrives at Paws, and may you ever wonder whatever happened between here and there. ******************************************** Catalin grumbled as he stepped into the tower. He had hoped to rest a spell in the hospitality wing of the tower, but instead he saw he would have to answer the calling card of Baerron Jael. He did so detest being the arbitrator betwixt Jupiter and the Voidmaster’s puppet, and now what more, he was a scullery maid! Resiliant though as always, he maid quick work of the chore at hand and collected all of the gutted and mangled corpses into containers. He painstakenly identified each and every torso, limb, and cranium, and as he did he realized precisely what task was next. He knew it was his solemn duty to ensure the were buried in reverence and he trusted in the eternities that their fates would not be bound to serve the Void. Not orc, nor Jerk could stand in his way. (No, seriously, I’m not making this crap up. Some orcs and the Jerk literally tried to impede him!) But thanks to the assistance of a Samaritan named Tomislav Goode, Catalin buried the final remnants under a Wisp’s somber watch at the Yew cemetery. With his Spiritual cleansing completed, Catalin now stands ready to fight against whatever darkness Baeron's master can muster. Catalin found humor in the fact that this empowering journey was only made possible by the Baerron's hubris, for had he not left all the remains at the tower of Paws, he could not have found a better method to prepare himself for the battle to come! We shall endure! To all those who participated in the inspiration of this fun story, please send me a private message and I shall reward you if you would like to receive a share of my breadcrumbs and day-dreams @Jon Snow @Tomislav Goode @The Jerk @those stupid orcs who tried to kill us @Baerron Jael you can go to hell.
Orc nub dum, weem smurtur den nubhosh Oomie Har Har Har *snorts* weem redi ta Slawtur awl dat tri ta stob da demun maztur frum kommin soh sai lats prayurz kawz lat gunnah need dem. *sneers*
