Post by Judas D'arc on Dec 16, 2017 16:46:24 GMT -5
In-between there and here, a tall man walked across a dull gray afternoon. He met no obstacles or passersby as he wandered that lonely, winding road. Yet his movements were haggard and uncertain, as if his feet were somehow at odds with one another.
“You failed us,” A voice drifted faintly with the wind. “You were by far the better warrior, and yet he still won your little duel. It was rather pathetic.”
“The fault was not mine,” the very same voice replied, “but yours.”
The man continued, each step slower and more strained than the one previous.
“You could’ve slain them both, Jarrett’s brother and that mage, but once again, you let Mylar distract you. The robed man and Erollisi were right.”
-- His Blood Simmered --
“Mylar was never my weakness, it was you who caused me to stray.”
-- His Innards Snapped --
“They used her to track us.”
-- His Bones Cracked --
“To avenge the evils you committed.”
-- His Flesh Tore --
“Our actions were your own.”
And then, where once stood a man, there now stood two: a ranger and a sorcerer. For the length of a minute, they exchanged confused stares, until the latter spoke.
“O’ mighty Mitre, this confrontation has been a long enough time in the making.”
“For over two centuries ago, Renthar, since you murdered me.
“If it’s any consolation, you died much better than your son did,” the sorcerer said with a disturbingly wide smile.
“He was no son of mine, he was a Stower,” the ranger scowled.
“You’re the one who fucked her.”
“A regrettable moment, while you allowed the entire Stower to have their way with you. Foolishly turning to them for aid against the mysterious Voice that pursues you.”
“If I had any other choice …”
“Was their betrayal a surprise?! Testing their Hollowing ritual upon you?! You are just as responsible as they are for this shared existence we have suffered!”
“An existence you squandered by returning to Spiritwood to relive past glories! Did your time as Keeper of the Rangers Guild ease your oath-breaking conscience?!”
The ranger shook his head and his shoulders relaxed. “Our feud continues, long past it mattering any longer. Nothing is accomplished by this bickering.”
The sorcerer considered. “I suppose you’re correct, in that at least.” He then pointed to the path that lay ahead. “What’s next for us? The way ahead looks never-ending. I’m surprised, I must admit, I would’ve thought we’d earned different destinations.”
“Before we leave this spot, I want you to tell me about the Voice. What did it say? What frightened you so much that you fled Umbra in a panic and went to the Stowers.”
“Must we?” The sorcerer sighed dramatically.
“We must.”
The sorcerer rolled his strange eyes and leaned forward to whisper something into the ranger’s ear. When done, he moved back to measure the other’s reaction.
It was laughter. The ranger laughed harder than he had since two centuries prior.
“You dare to laugh?!”
“I … that … this would be so comical, if not also so well-deserved.”
“Too far, ranger!” His fingers danced. “Kal Vas Flam!”
The ranger’s expression sobered and he reached for his war axe.
In-between there and here, two tall men fought across a dull gray afternoon. And they met no obstacles or passersby as they battled forever along that lonely, winding road.
The End
“You failed us,” A voice drifted faintly with the wind. “You were by far the better warrior, and yet he still won your little duel. It was rather pathetic.”
“The fault was not mine,” the very same voice replied, “but yours.”
The man continued, each step slower and more strained than the one previous.
“You could’ve slain them both, Jarrett’s brother and that mage, but once again, you let Mylar distract you. The robed man and Erollisi were right.”
-- His Blood Simmered --
“Mylar was never my weakness, it was you who caused me to stray.”
-- His Innards Snapped --
“They used her to track us.”
-- His Bones Cracked --
“To avenge the evils you committed.”
-- His Flesh Tore --
“Our actions were your own.”
And then, where once stood a man, there now stood two: a ranger and a sorcerer. For the length of a minute, they exchanged confused stares, until the latter spoke.
“O’ mighty Mitre, this confrontation has been a long enough time in the making.”
“For over two centuries ago, Renthar, since you murdered me.
“If it’s any consolation, you died much better than your son did,” the sorcerer said with a disturbingly wide smile.
“He was no son of mine, he was a Stower,” the ranger scowled.
“You’re the one who fucked her.”
“A regrettable moment, while you allowed the entire Stower to have their way with you. Foolishly turning to them for aid against the mysterious Voice that pursues you.”
“If I had any other choice …”
“Was their betrayal a surprise?! Testing their Hollowing ritual upon you?! You are just as responsible as they are for this shared existence we have suffered!”
“An existence you squandered by returning to Spiritwood to relive past glories! Did your time as Keeper of the Rangers Guild ease your oath-breaking conscience?!”
The ranger shook his head and his shoulders relaxed. “Our feud continues, long past it mattering any longer. Nothing is accomplished by this bickering.”
The sorcerer considered. “I suppose you’re correct, in that at least.” He then pointed to the path that lay ahead. “What’s next for us? The way ahead looks never-ending. I’m surprised, I must admit, I would’ve thought we’d earned different destinations.”
“Before we leave this spot, I want you to tell me about the Voice. What did it say? What frightened you so much that you fled Umbra in a panic and went to the Stowers.”
“Must we?” The sorcerer sighed dramatically.
“We must.”
The sorcerer rolled his strange eyes and leaned forward to whisper something into the ranger’s ear. When done, he moved back to measure the other’s reaction.
It was laughter. The ranger laughed harder than he had since two centuries prior.
“You dare to laugh?!”
“I … that … this would be so comical, if not also so well-deserved.”
“Too far, ranger!” His fingers danced. “Kal Vas Flam!”
The ranger’s expression sobered and he reached for his war axe.
In-between there and here, two tall men fought across a dull gray afternoon. And they met no obstacles or passersby as they battled forever along that lonely, winding road.
The End
