Post by Deraj on Dec 30, 2013 20:06:22 GMT -5
Under the all-encompassing moonless night sky, a soft glow emanated deep within the forests of Spiritwood. Slivers of light peeking through the old cabin hinted at life pulsing within its worn walls. Two souls dwelled inside, one gazing into the dancing candlelight as if lost in thought, while the other thumbed through old letters and other dusty momentos of an unspoken past. Outside, a solitary stone rested, bearing an ankh crudely inscribed, marking a plot of earth recently filled. A forlorn cloud hung above the brothers Arryth, as in silent contemplation they reflected upon their departed grandmother.
Breaking the silence, Beleg spoke, "This is interesting..."
"What is it?" said Tserim.
"An old letter to our father, from someone named Corinna. Does that name sound familiar?"
"Vaguely. What does the letter say?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My dear Samuel,
I have heard that your unit is being mobilized to fight the latest undead disturbances close to Trinsic. Rumor has it that a lich has been hard at work there. I suppose even the vilest, cold-blooded, black-souled son-of-a-lich would freeze in total horror when it gets a good whiff of your stench! Or it would puke first, I haven't decided.
Alas! I am still waiting to hear news that you will finally provide some meaningful competition! In your last skirmish you did not even come close to my record of thirty-five zombies! I understand, dear Samuel, that you are at a stark disadvantage, being so hideously ugly that all the undead run in fear at the sight of your face, thus causing you to have to hit them at a greater distance, but after all that big talk from you, I thought that would not pose a problem! Come back alive, will you? As much fun as it would be to stick an arrow in your undead arse, you're much more fun to beat up while alive. And give my regards to the boys.
Corinna
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tserim could not help but grin, despite his sorrow. His expression quickly returned, however. "Perhaps we ought to seek her out. Leave this place."
"Leave our home?" said Beleg.
"Aye," said Tserim. "Grandmother was right. We can't live here forever. I don't know if it will ever be the same here without her. I believe that life is change, Beleg. Grandmother did not really die. She only returned to nature, to become something new. So we must become something new, as well. True death is stagnation. Let us sleep on it. Tomorrow we will decide what to do."
As he spoke, Tserim reached towards a candle, and pinching it, extinguished the flame.
Breaking the silence, Beleg spoke, "This is interesting..."
"What is it?" said Tserim.
"An old letter to our father, from someone named Corinna. Does that name sound familiar?"
"Vaguely. What does the letter say?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My dear Samuel,
I have heard that your unit is being mobilized to fight the latest undead disturbances close to Trinsic. Rumor has it that a lich has been hard at work there. I suppose even the vilest, cold-blooded, black-souled son-of-a-lich would freeze in total horror when it gets a good whiff of your stench! Or it would puke first, I haven't decided.
Alas! I am still waiting to hear news that you will finally provide some meaningful competition! In your last skirmish you did not even come close to my record of thirty-five zombies! I understand, dear Samuel, that you are at a stark disadvantage, being so hideously ugly that all the undead run in fear at the sight of your face, thus causing you to have to hit them at a greater distance, but after all that big talk from you, I thought that would not pose a problem! Come back alive, will you? As much fun as it would be to stick an arrow in your undead arse, you're much more fun to beat up while alive. And give my regards to the boys.
Corinna
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tserim could not help but grin, despite his sorrow. His expression quickly returned, however. "Perhaps we ought to seek her out. Leave this place."
"Leave our home?" said Beleg.
"Aye," said Tserim. "Grandmother was right. We can't live here forever. I don't know if it will ever be the same here without her. I believe that life is change, Beleg. Grandmother did not really die. She only returned to nature, to become something new. So we must become something new, as well. True death is stagnation. Let us sleep on it. Tomorrow we will decide what to do."
As he spoke, Tserim reached towards a candle, and pinching it, extinguished the flame.