Seth's Journal

[Seth]

"A familiar sight, a familiar sound, perhaps a familiar face. Who knows why i returned..

Over the years I was away I have learned much, much that drags my heart back to Hlint, but much that aches for it to stay where it was. Knowlage is power, but some powers you just wish you'd never read, something were never ment to be known. I flip back through pages of old, reminising on times past, friends of past.. Many dead, many departed. Although those still here, i am truely greatful for. I suppose one of the strongest reason for return, companionship of old.

I wish I had never left, but in many ways it was refreshing. Coming back once more to this land of legend, instilled with a new lease for life, also a thrist for vengence, old and new.

This absence has left me with many wonders, what has happened to old friends. My oldest friend is no where to be seen, he who travelled with me to this land so many years ago. Does he still wander this land, passing his "lawful" judgement, has he too left for lands anew, or has he perished fighting for his ideals. It chills me to think of it, but in the same end it would never surprise me, such an uncompramising fool. How I miss him...

And how I miss her.. Such a breif moment of happiness, it tears at my very soul to think of life without her.

I refuse to ponder on that thought, if it is to be, it will be. If not, then by the blood of the thousand I will not forget her. Every strike from the shadows will bear her name.

Sleep demands my time, yet i refuse to yeild. It comes bearing only memories of old, thought of new. Nothing good ever seems to arrive in that dark peroid. Others darkness fills me with a lust for life, yet my own personal darkness destroys it.

Still on the rise of the sun, or the rise of my head, i shake those demons loose, forge them into my blade or bow. They are MINE to control, not I for them.

With that thought i rest my quill, time to forge my demons."

[Seth]

"I have made a decision, maybe not a wise one, but a decision none the less..

I am going to look for that fool Sorden, I have set the wheels in motion already. Some old friends and new help owe me favours. I shall pull what i need and spend what is required, and if this fool is dead when i find him he'd better have left a rich corpse!

*A small smudge on the paper resembles a drop of water*

What ever the outcome, I shall put my mind to rest. To much bothers it right now, and there are too few things i can do about it. This is one effort I am willing to make.

* runs his hand across a fine scar round his neck*

Your losing you touch old man, better keep on top of this. If you dont, it will catch up to you!"

[Seth]

Lying on the floor in a drafty room, the room spun with the tenacity that too much whisky always brings..
He had started on the bed, comftably laid to sleep it off by an old friend and a new aquaintace. The warmth of the blanket, the comfort of the matress had lured him once more into sleep.

It began as most dreams do, the silent still darkness, slowly filled with flashing images and fleeting sounds. He had watched as the bar and inn had built around him, coming forward from the darkness to form solid objects, perfect down to the glass of whisky in his hand. His concious memory stirred, the smell of the whisky making him retch. Subconcious thoughts pushed the thought away, dragging him further into the dream that was becoming reality.

Seconds moved as years, minutes as eons as he lifted his glass, payed the bar keep and returned to his room. The candle on his desk flickered as he entered the room, flashing faint light streams across the pile of black bound letters.

The scent of death filled his dream, a mocking flavour in the air that signalled the beginning of his decent into nightmares. All at once the wire was bound, tightening around his throat, tearing at his flesh..

This time he had been ready, there would be no onesided fight this time. He flashed his blackened blade backwards, finding the chest of his assailant with a unpleasant sound.

Unbinding the wire, he turned to see the man in black choking on his own blood, slowly slipping to his knees and clutching his chest. Seth lifted his blade and forced it into the mans chest, his heart skipping a beat as metal met flesh. The Nightmare was his to control!

He sheathed his blade, kicking the mans corpse from his path as he headed to the door.

As he swung the door open, a breath of clean fresh air hit his lungs..

All of a sudden there was a glimpse of silver..

Looking down, Seth saw a small silver dagger, dripping with a green venom and proturding from his guts.

He staggered backwards, his gaze now transfixed on the face that began to appear in the doorway.

There was a moment of shock. He became deaf to the world as the pain racked his body, slowly slipping to the silvery tingle of death.

A halfing stood in the doorway, one who was unfortunately familiar to Seth.
"But we killed you..." or at least thats what would have come from Seth's mouth had the man not placed his finger across Seth's lips.
"Sssshhhhhh" His sickeningly syrupy voice hung in the air, "Sleep now.. "

As Seth fell back, taking the table and chair with him, "Your time will come.." passed from the lips of the man.

There was a jolt of pain, the deepest black, then the ceiling..

And now he lay on the floor, semiconcious and still drunk on whisky. A single tear rolled down his cheak as he stared at the latice wooden pattern of the ceiling. The room was trashed, blanket, matress, table and chair strewn as though a brawl had erupted.

He lay on the floor still, unable or unwilling to move. He cared not which. He ran a finger across his neck, tracing the ridged scar all around his neck.

"If my time comes, I will welcome it with open arms," muttered Seth, "Hell itself can only offer so much, it can not be far worse than now."

Planting a sword in the floor boards, he hauled himself to his feet. A jagged pain tore at his side as he moved.

For a second he considered that it was not a dream, blinking the thought back as he removed the lump of chair leg from his side. He threw it across the room, thowing the door open as he did.

Walking out into the stale air of the inn, he dropped a bag of coins on the bar and headed for the door.

[Seth]

"The bags are packed and the arrangements made, I shall leave tomorrow to search for the fool Sorden.
You'd better not be dead old man, if you are you'll get worse when I find you"

Fine ink trails lace the page, as though a pen meandered across the paper, not knowing how to continue.

"You have no idea how hard this is, your one of the few I would come to look for. Pain hurts less when you feel for nothing. Yourself, Quintayne, Kasha, and Plen... Your one of the few. How dare you make me feel like this!"

Again blots of ink drip across the page, their random path smudged to the opposite page.

"Time to leave I suppose. Should I not return, I wonder what picture this diary will paint of me. Probably not a perticularly pretty one! *the pen jumps slightly, distorting the already scribbled handwriting* I will see you soon old friend."

Closing the diary, Seth slips it into his pack and finishes his whiskey.

Glancing around the room, he blinks.

"Maybe another time soon.. Maybe.."

The front door of the Wild Surge swings open as Seth braces himself against the storm, stepping out and pulling the door shut behind him.

[Seth]

The road wound its way through the foot hills. weaving and dodging as outcrops of granite fought for air. The forest canopy had given way to the crimson skyline, laced with the majestic Spine mountains, almost ablaze with colour as the evening drew in.
The rain had been and gone this day and the heavy scent of flowers still hung in the air, dragged down by the passing shower. The air was fresh, clean, and cold as a breeze blew down from the peaks.

Settling down beneath an outcrop of rock, Seth flipped open his diary and began to write.

[Seth]

"on the road now for several months now, and still no closer.

A few clues have dropped my way, hopefully i will be able to pick up a trail within the next month or so.
Several locals around here have seen him, not recently, probably a year ago, but i'll follow in his wake and try to find the pieces.

I'll find you, dont worry about that old man.."

The sky by now was growing dark, with the last flcikers of red clinging to the mountainside.Seth shut the small book and tried to settle for the evening.

The dark forboading woods behind him; the malevolent, jagged peaks ahead, this small clearing seemed like a little piece of sanctuary.

[Seth]

The landscape did not so much unfold as explode as seth climbed to the top of the rise.

Mountainous peaks shot up from no where, the sky billowed out like a fresh cotton sheet thrown across a bed. The clouds hanging lazily in indescribable shapes. The air was fresh, chilled so that it stung as you inhaled it. Taking a deep breath, seth felt his lungs light up like a thousand christmas tree lights.

The path wound down the mountainside like a drunk dwarf on his way home, dodging the jagged outcrops of rock and sporadic bushes that dotted the scenery. Looking down the path Seth felt the oh so common feeling in the pit of his stomach, that feeling of forboading.

A local had directed him towards this area, the depths of the spine mountains. Yet the sorden he had spoken of was not the one he knew. Descriptions fitted, even the name, but his attitude had changed. He told stories of him, his unquentiable desire for ridding the world of this plague. Sorden had steped up from his juditiary position, moving toward being judge, jury and executioner. Seth had never understood his seemingly blind obligation to the law, yet he had always held it in a certain amount of respect.

Devotion of that kind without bias was rare.

The gravel shifted slightly and Seth was awoken from his daydream. The path ahead lay ahead, fraught with the danger that he had come to expect, yet still his stomach turned.

He dreaded what he may find.

[Seth]

Adjusting his eyes to the dimming light, Seth unsheethed his sword. The blade emminated a dull red glow, something he had never fully enjoyed. Any light is bad light when your trying to sneak. With what light still filtered in from outside, he decided to make do, resheathing the sword for just now.

The internals of the cave were like a rabbits warren. Worn tunnels spread off into infinate darkness, jagged teeth sprung from ceiling and floor. The cave smelt of death...

It's a curious smell death. Something that is completely indescribable, but completely unforgettable to those who smell it. It only varies in it's vileness; fresh dead, still with its metalic twang, the beginning of decomposition which catches the back of the throat, making you gag. And then there old dead, those slain months or years ago, there remains that musky odour which never goes away.

This haunt retained the smell of all three.

Bones littered the floor, mainly animal remains, although some elongated bones resembling those of an orc were visable too. Mostly the remains were old and dusted, however a glancing sunbeam hit upon a disturbing sight.

There it lay, an old robe binding a beaten human form. Nature had taken its course, and the smell knawed at Seth's throat. The body lay, partially decomposed, propped against a rock. A rusty scimitar protruded from the guts of the unfortunate being, a solum flag on a sunken ship.

Seth swallowed hard, trying to examine the corpse. At swords reach, he shifted the robes.

He told himself it was the releif as he wiped the spit from his lips, must've been. I've seen worse, many times over. But still the bile choked in his throat as he passed by the corpse, poor soul.

Slipping into the shadows, his stomach still complained violently after its emergency evacuation. The light from the enterance began to dissapear, secoming to the brutal darkness of the caves. Keeping his sword in hand, Seth followed the dim glow down the tunnel.

The smell of death worsened down this way, he had smelt it back at the enterance, this was somethings lair.

And the something was fond of the hunt..