A man and Dog

[darkwulf365]

A man and his Dog

--Two figures camp next to a fire, outside the western wall of Hlint.  One is a young man with shaggy blue-black hair, dressed in black and red leathers.  Both man and armor look much too battered and beat up for their age.  The other is the man's familiar, a large black hellhound with glowing red eyes.  The man sits on the ground, slowly petting the hound with a fond smile streching his beaten face.  The man looks up, deep into the starry night sky, his familiar, who he has named Dog, stares into the embers of the fire, as if reading something in their glow--

"Big changes..." the man says in his deep, quiet voice.  "Big changes, too much to think about, and far too much to learn make for a very tired and confused me."  He looks up to see a star twinkling in the distance.  He opens his palm up to the sky, concentrates hard, and softly speaks an arcane word.  A small orb of white light starts to glow in his palm.  His smile weakens as he closes his fist, and the light dissappears.  With a soft sigh he turns his gaze back into the fire.

"I don't know what we're gonna do..." he tells Dog.  An old streetwise voice with a strange accent answers 'You can't always get what you want...but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.'  The man looks at Dog and nods "Yeah, I guess you're right."  Dog is full of sayings like that, always different voices, and they always seem like they come from some alien place, like some strange bardsong. They always appear in Jaren's head, and he doesn't always understand, but Dog is patient.

The man takes off his gloves and looks at his scarred hands with another fond smile, they were his first success at magic.  If you can call setting your hands on fire a sucess.  His father was right, hard work and dedication was something you could always give, and sometimes it was all it took.  Being able to spend large amounts of gold for study supplies didn't hurt either, Jaren thought and his smile widened.  Yes, all that time in the Watcher's Tower, struggling to read books that he couldn't understand, speaking syllables he couldn't pronounce.  All the running around Mistone fighting, questing, and looting had certainly paid off.  It had also cost him a part of his soul, but that was a small price to pay for learning to control the weave.

"Yes, you're definately right, this *is* exactly what we need, both of us.  All of us."  After that little talk with her, when he had laid his heart out on the line, and the emotions that followed quickly after, a little alone time was exactly what they needed.  Another part of his soul had gone to figuring that out.  The man smiles thinking that pretty soon there won't be enough of him left to share with anybody.  Self control, that's what the fortune teller said, and if Jaren had a middle name, that's what he'd change it to.

'Leaves are fallin all around...Time, I was on my way ...Thanks to you, I'm much obliged...such a pleasant stay...But now it's time for me to go...' comes from Dog, staring with half-lidded eyes into the fire.

Jaren rubs his chin thinking that was a good idea.  Time for them to move on.  He needed to grow up and learn his lessons in self control.  No more joking, no more berserker charges against impossible odds, there is a war going on, and he has to be ready, just in case.

'Its better to burn out...than fade away' coming from Dog.  Jaren sighs in agreement, if he was going to be remembered in any book or bard's song, it wouldn't be as comic relief.

And just as quickly, his thoughts turn to her.  He decides that he was being quite juvinile about the whole thing.  Another lesson he had paid dearly to learn.  They honestly didn't know each other very well, but they hit off fabulously at first.  He thinks that being lonely too long made him just cling to anybody.  Whether or not that was true, Jaren didn't know, but at least it was a start, and at least they were still friends.

'If you chose to walk away...I'd still be right here waiting' another voice from Dog, this one sounding quite a bit younger and newer.  The man nods again, that was pretty much the state of his and her relationship right now.  Jaren thought that Dog was fairly perceptive of the human condition...for a canine, that is.  

The moon was high and full in the summer night sky, and Jaren lays his down and closes his eyes.  "G'night Dog".  He snaps his fingers and in a circle of white light Dog starts to dissapear.  'Everything is gonna be all right...rockabye' comes from Dog before he leaves for wherever he comes from.

Smiling, Jaren falls asleep in front of the fire.

[darkwulf365]

//moved from its own topic because Jaren's player loses his mind on a regular basis

--The battered man in the black leathers slumps down beside a tree outside Hlint. The sky is a reddish purple from dusk trying to turn into night.--

Jaren sighs as he sits and starts to rummage through his backpack for something to eat. "What a night, at least it was profitable." His thoughts turn to his small fortune he has in the bank. He makes a mental note to thank Gloin and Bru in some appropriate manner.

After a few minutes he finds what he's looking for and pulls out a hunk of dried meat. Jaren looks at it closely, decides he doesn't care what it came from, tears off a small piece and begins to eat slowly. This was the first food he'd been able to afford in about a week, and despite tasting like rotten leather, he still enjoyed the feeling of something in his stomach.

It was definately a profitable night as far as money went, but like Daren always used to say, nothing for nothing. He had happend to chance across Kira and Celgar together inside of town. His ideas of boating out to Rialra to escape from them got blown out of the water almost as quickly as they were formed. Seeing them both together stung quite a bit, not as much as it used to, but still, hurt is hurt, and emotional pain is can be as bad as a sword to the stomach. So Jaren paid that cost and reluctantly found himself drawn again into their odd little family. At least he got to see the Great Library, and all the books within made it worth it.

For a brief time, Jaren's thoughts turn to his own family. His face darkens as the image of his father appears in his mind, but a immediately clears when the image changes to his mother and young Jaral. He thinks about taking some of his fortune out of the bank back to the farm but quickly dismisses it. He knew he couldn't face his father. Maybe someday, but not now...best not to take too much at once.

A rueful smile appears across his worn face as he thinks about his older brother Daren. Jaren wonders if he's still alive, maybe he's possibly back home on the farm. "Highly doubtful...probably not even a farm for him to come back to." Jaren mumbles around a mouthful of food. He sighs...family, friends, friends and family...he hadn't glad to be rid of one, and almost yearning to lose the other. Only once had he cried since Jaral had left him, taking off to begin her training as a Ranger. Only once had he cried after realizing he was truly alone as a boy of 14. He hadn't cried after that night with Kira, but gods, it would almost be a relief. It would be such a weight off his heart to just pick up and leave them both.

But he made a promise to her, and promises from Jaren Valhaikor were never broken. Thinking of Kira and promises brought up the image of her in her wedding dress to his mind. Just as quickly he dashed it away. He was past that, she was just a distraction anymore. And as the fortune teller also told him that night, distractions were the road to ruin.

He thought back to his conversation with Celgar in the great library. They had discussed the war, and Blood. Celgar said that many have tried to kill him, none have succeeded. "I'm too stubborn to die." Celgar had said once. Jeran replied "I'm just too stubborn to stay dead."

'Better watch out...cause I'm a war machine' comes through Jeran's head. Dog is with him now all the time, even when he isn't physically there. Dog's voice sounds like a demon screaming in Jeran's head, but he doesn't find the sound totally unpleasant.

Jeran grins so coldly that it would give someone a chill on a hot summer night. Not quite yet, but soon...Dog is absolutley right again. Tenacity is Jeran's speciality.

The sky is totally dark now and he conjures up his magical light and starts to rummage through his backpack again. He pulls out some pages he managed to steal from the Great Library and starts to study them, a frown of concentration on his face.

'Can you feel it...comin' in the air tonight' from Dog. Jeran grins coldly again.

"Most definately." he says quietly into the night.

[darkwulf365]

--The battered young man in the black leathers leans against a tree gasping for
breath, his head hung low.  His hand pinned tightly to his side, trying to keep
back the flow of blood.  He's standing on the road to Fort Llast, limping back
toward Hlint.  Making his way slowly toward the campsite he now considers his
home--

"Another brilliant idea" he mumbles, but not to himself.  Dog's voice comes to his
mind speaking very rapidly 'Do you have the time, to listen to me whine?...about
nothing and everything all at once.'
"Oh...be quiet" Jaren mumbles, but not unkindly and a small smile flashes on his
battered face.  Soft canine laughter soon fills his head.  Dog has slowly
developed a sense of humor, and Jaren finds this comforting if not slightly
annoying at times.  Sharing your mind with someone sometimes had its
disadvantages.

After a few minutes, the man recovers his breath enough to take a look down at his
wounds.  "Not as bad as they could be, but by the gods this stings." he mutters.  
He pushes himself away from the tree, and starts to slowly make his way down the
road.  His mind turns back to the events of the past few days.  The boy in the
crypts was the first event he pictured.  The boy was younger than he was, after he
left his home that night.  Yes, younger by years, but no less scared.  The Captain
had offered the party a reward to split.  But he had given up his share.  The look
of relief on the boy's face when he was let out of the coffin was more than
enough.  Another quick smile appears on the man's face.  He was also realistic
enough to know the boy's look of relief was for Slate.  But still, Jaren felt
extremely proud inside knowing he had at least changed the world a little...even
if it was for just one person who didn't even know his name.

'And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45...swimming through the ashes of another
life' comes from Dog.  Jaren didn't understand most of that, but yes, he was
starting to leave his old life behind.  Things were definately changing...again.  
Dog was talking again, this time of some green thing that Dog thought was an ogre
(but looked like no ogre Jaren had ever seen), then a cat wearing boots, a talking
donkey, finally the words 'I need a hero...I'm holding out for a hero till the
morning light...' followed by more laughter, and Dog grinning in his head.  Jaren
shook his head thinking that he was no hero, not yet...and maybe not ever.  But he
also knew that he couldn't help himself sometimes...good and evil, right and
wrong, us and them.  Jaren knew what side of that particular fence he was on.  He
sighed with a small grin, thinking that'll just get them both killed someday.

Almost at the campsite, Jaren stopped to catch his breath again.  The bleeding had
slowed slightly, but showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.  His thoughts
turned to his friends, he thought of Kira and the present she had given him.  The
white robe in his pack.  He didn't know what she was thinking, giving him
something like that, it should've gone to Celgar.  He didn't think that he'd ever
wear it, unless Kira asked him to, but he'd always treasure it.  They were the
first new clothes he'd had in what seemed like forever, and the fact they came
from Kira made them worth even more in his heart.

'Dude look like a lady' comes from Dog.  This time the soft laughter became
hysterical.  Jaren could see Dog, laying on his back, paws in the air, rolling
with laughter.  "You're not helping, ya know" Jaren mumbled, he'd have to talk to
Dog about his joking...someday at least.

Jaren made his way into the campsite, and flopped unceremoniously onto the ground.
'Lucy...I'm home' comes from Dog.  Jaren rolls over and looks up into the sky.  He
thinks of Kharl...the newest edition into Toran's army.  "Kids..." he mutters into
the night.  Jaren doesn't know what goes into making a paladin, but he thinks
Toran must be getting desperate if he gave Kharl the title.  He wonders if Toran
knows anything about way he and Jacchri bullied and berated Kharl.  Jeran grins
wickedly, as he thinks of all the threatning he did to the poor paladin.  Jeran
closes his eyes and smiles.  Oh well, he thinks...if Toran has any problems with
it, he can find me.  Who knows?  He might even thank me for it.

Sleep is starting to come, as Jeran softly sings into the night 'The more the
light shines through me, I pretend to close my eyes...The more the dark consumes
me, I pretend I'm burning...burning bright.'  Dog taught him that, he didn't know
what it meant, but at least it sounded good...

[darkwulf365]

--The young man sits against a tree, dozing by the softly glowing embers of a fire outside of Hlint.  The moon hangs full in the night sky giving off a soft blue light.  His short sword rests between his legs, his hand loosley holding its hilt.  His other hand rests on his backpack, overfilled with the odds and ends of his journeys.  Quiet muttering in a sleepy voice fills the air around him.--  Jeran woke up quickly, eyes darting all around, his sword quickly in hand.  A bright flash, and Dog is by his side.    'The Dream Police, they come to me in my bed...The Dream Police they talk to me in my head' comes from Dog into Jeran's head, followed by some canine laughter.  "Not so loud...I'm not awake yet" he mutters complainingly.  Dog chuckles, softly this time.  With a sigh, Jaren turns his eyes upward, looking at the moon.  The dreams are coming more and more often now.  Terrible images of pain, loss and suffering, now for the third night running.  Who is suffering Jeran doesn't know, woman or child, it has no shape, no true voice, only that feeling.  His mind struggles to remember this last nightmare, trying to find some sort of answer.  It finds nothing, but instead shows him his last day at home...   His father...his brother...his family...probably all gone now, scattered to the winds...all because of him.  It was so simple, really...it could've been avoided, had Jaren just listened to his brother.  He sighs, as the memories flood over him.  That day, Jaren and his brother were sent to town, a little food, and some tools to fix the far shed.  That was their task, and it was an easy one.  Daren had the idea to gamble what little money they had on a game of cards.  Pointing at the men sitting at a card table in the local pub Daren whispered 'Watched 'em playing many times, I have.  T'is a simple game, for simple men.  I'll walk away with twice wot we came, and everybody wi' be eatin good tonight.  Stay you here though, keep a good watch.'  Jaren nodded and waited outside, eyes upward, imagining different animals in the passing clouds.  After only minutes, Daren walked out spitting and swearing 'Cheatin' bastards...See the one in the green shirt?  He's the one wot stole our money.  Go in there...keep 'im busy, and take back what's ours.'  When Jaren started to disagree, Daren grew insistant 'I know ye can do it...seen ye sneaking sweets from the baker, even from ma's kitchen many times I have...Now...go!'  Jaren violently shook his head, protesting loudly.  'Fine, boy...I'll take care of it meself...Run home to yer silly books and pictures.  A thrashin' I owe ye for not listening, breathe a word o' this to Ma or Pa, and twice as bad I'll make it'  Jaren ran all the way back home, into his room, and buried his nose into one of the few books he had.  It was the one about the little lost dragon, being 14 years old, he had long outgrown it, but it was one of his favorites.  Looking back, Jaren thinks it's because it has a happy ending.  Jaren's parents had tried asking what happened to his brother...all he said was that Daren had caught up with some friends in town, and he'd be home well before dinner.  Jaren's pa started swearing, hearing that news, Jaren was worthless with manual labor or anything involving a tool, so a day's work was mostly gone.  But both his parents never knew what Daren did when left alone, and their ears were deaf to anything negative said about their children.  Night started to come, and still no Daren.  Their father grew more and more angry, starting to drink heavily, his face becoming an angry storm cloud.  Jaren became more worried also, 13 times he read that book, the whole time trying to will some happy ending into existance.  Night was full, and then it happened.  His father cursing, and screaming, Jaral, and his mother, looking deeply hurt and dissapointed.  The look of hatred from Daren.  Jaren was filled first with fear, then shock, extreme anger, then blackness. Jeran shakes his head, and blinks as if in a waking dream.  Rummaging through his backpack, he finds his canteen and takes a small drink.  He slowly wipes his mouth and tosses the canteen back into his pack.  With a small sigh he lays his head in his scarred hands and runs his fingers through his tangled hair.  He had completed his second circle of wizardry some time ago.  He had hoped that his magical studies would become easier from now on, but things were tougher now than they had been before.  His mind flashed back to the night in Storan's Crypt.  He had felt so helpless there, so slow and clumsy.  These were new feelings to him, and he didn't like them one bit.  Next was the scarring of his hands, and the days of blinding pain that followed.  Emotional agony at the ups and downs of his few successes and many failures of the past months.  It was if his mind was trying to rip him apart from the inside by bringing up all of these horrible memories.  He took a deep breath and exhailed slowy, trying to stop or at least slow down his bad thoughts.  Slowly, his mind cleared, and started to calm itself.   'Think outside the bun' comes softly from Dog.  Jeran didn't know what that meant exactly but he turned his focus from his inner turmoils to the problems outside of himself, things he could actually deal with.  Inner demons would have to wait.  He thought of Celgar's lecture, about Lucinda, Eon hiding in the Greypeak Mountians, the weave and the Grey Circle.    "He said that they could destroy the weave..." Jeran mumbles softly to himself.  Destroying the weave would destroy his powers.  'Destroy the weave and destroy my powers.'  He thought to himself.  'Take away my powers and I am nothing, no more than some farm boy gutter rat, again.  I've worked too hard to let that happen, not now, not ever.'  Jeran slowly shook his head one last time.  He knew Celgar was opposed to the Circle, but he had other things on his mind.  He knew the clergy of Lucinda probably had some plan regarding them.  But why should he trust someone else to take care of something he could himself?  A wicked smile crossed his oft beaten face, it was the cold grin of an unrelenting person who just found a new purpose in life.  He had pushed himself hard lately, both in study and in combat.  A little more would be all it took, and then it would be time.  With that thought, Jaren nodded off to sleep a dreamless sleep, the smile still on his face.

[darkwulf365]

The night was cool, a slow breeze winds its way through the campsite of the man in black.  The moon hangs high in the sky while his campfire is burnt down to glowing embers.  Jeran again woke with a start, sweat running rivers all down his body, a scream barely held in the back of his throat.  Breathing shallow and quick, his head  nothing but a loud roar of pain and agony, as if his brain was on fire.  Constant and, deafining, drowning out all thoughts, nothing but an anguished wailing.  He felt his fingers digging into the ground as terror started to overtake him.  His eyes darted quickly from one place to the next, frantically searching for something, anything to let him regain control of his mind and calm his body.  He found nothing, and his hands became fists in the earth as he slowly closed his  eyes and tried to bring forth something strong in his mind to settle it.    He thought of his friends, his real family, his adopted family, even of Dog.  The roaring grew louder as their faces appeared and then faded out just as quickly.  Gritting his teeth in concentration, he focused on Anna, his love, and soon to be wife.  Her image grew in his mind, indistinct at first but growing in clarity, slowly replacing the dischord in his head.  Focusing harder he thought of the sound of her voice, her laugh, her smile, he let fill himself up.  And then, almost as sudden as it started, the noise was gone, replaced totally with Anna and his love.  His breathing slowed, and he carefully opened his eyes.  The remains of a fire in front of him, trees behind, grass still covering the ground...everything was in  its place.  'I can see inside you the sickness is rising.  It seems that all that was good has died.  Oh no, the world is a scary place, now that you've opened up the demon...in me...'  This comes from Dog, although faint and hard for Jeran to hear, as if Dog was speaking from some distant place.    He thought hard about that.  What sickness?  What demon?  Those questions echoed back through his head but recieved no answer.  With a small sigh, Jeran tried to think back about his reoccuring nightmares, trying to find some root cause.  Firstly was his last night at home, then his adventures in Storan's crypt. That  fateful night in the forest with the nameless Lich and his pet Belker.  Anna lying outside of Krandor while he himself lay bleeding not ten feet away, helpless, unable to do anything to save him or her.  The spiders in Seilwood forest.  All of his past failures and current inadequacies shown to him every night for weeks on end.  Sleep was becoming a painful adventure, but this was the first time the pain of the dreaming world had extended into his waking.  But were they really the cause of this...this sickness as Dog put it?  He felt his nightmares were good for strengthening his resolve, making him work harder, expand his powers.  He then thought of something that Celgar said one night.  Cel said he could hear the song of the Weave inside  of him.  He said that with Jeran the song was especially loud and vibrant.  Cel said that Jeran might become one of the greatest wizards in the world.  Was the song of the Weave the noise inside his head?  Was the Weave dying or in pain?  Or was his use of magic just perverting the Weave and making it a cacophony inside of himself?    Jeran shook his head, he had no idea.  His powers had expanded at an amazing rate, was he pushing himself too hard?  He really didn't think he was, or else this whole series of events would have started sooner, when he felt himself far more reckless, throwing himself without regard into anything and everything he could get his hands on.  With another small sigh, Jeran took a small drink from his canteen.  The moon was going down, turning the night sky into the cold grey light of dawn.  He didn't trust himself to sleep again.  He let his mind wander, and with a little smile he found it wandering to thoughts of Anna.  Imagining Anna in her wedding dress, the ceremony, the party afterwards.  With a small chuckle he thought of the fact that they had no house, no money, nothing but each other.  His smile grew when he realized that each other was more than enough.  And these wonderful thoughts stayed with him until dawn turned to daybreak and he was able to enjoy a few hours of peaceful sleep.

[darkwulf365]

//something a little different this time...not too different though

Jeran lay sleeping next to the remains of his campfire outside of Hlint.  The night air seemed cold to him and for the first time since he arrived he huddled himself into an old moth-eaten blanket he had found.  Also for the first time in what seemed like weeks his sleep was almost peaceful, and the calmness registered on his dreaming face.  Since his encounter with the demon, his nightmares had ceased, and the painful wailing inside of his head had been reduced to a dull roar that he could easily ignore.  His dreaming had become less torenntial but had still changed nonetheless.  He could sense a shadow inside of his dreaming mind, always watching, but nothing else.

His dream tonight was of Lake Rillon.  He was there, with Anna, his wife to be.  He saw her, he saw their home on the lake that existed only as a fantasy in his subconcious.  But strangely, he saw Dog, constantly repeating the same nonsense, over and over.

'Guess who just got back today?  Them wild-eyed boys that've been away...The boys are back in town'

And there was another, standing next to Dog in the distance, barely able to be seen.  Jeran's dreaming self squinted his eyes, peering closer.  He could see the new stranger, a large man, heavily muscled, grinning wickedly, the smile of a bully stalking the weak.  Suprisingly, Jeran's dreaming mind focused on his hair, the same bluish black as his own.  That meant the new stranger was...

"Daren...?" He muttered aloud, his eyes struggling to open, trying to wake himself quickly, barely registering the round face looming inches above his own.

"'ello...boy"  Another bright flash of painful light inside his head, and again blackness followed.

//continued in the thread "Tales of the Redeemed"

[darkwulf365]

It was after midnight and Jaren sat on a bench in Krandor, looking out over the moonlit ocean to the west.  He was awake now more out of force of habit than anything else, he kept thinking that the ring buried in his hand and that marked him as chosen had driven out the nightmares, but he was sleeping in a town for the first time, and didn't want to wake anybody with screams in the night.

Anna, his fiancee, lay on a blanket spread on the grass close to him.  Breathing quietly, her face peaceful and serene she was a living vision of a beautiful future Jeran would've never dreamt possible.  This was the second night they'd spent together, and Jeran really didn't want it to end.  

The first was at Lake Rillon, where they hoped to build their home and raise their family.  That night passed in what seemed like a second.  Jeran didn't know if it was was her warm body next to his, or the fact that he hadn't slept in about a month.  But one second he was holding her tightly, closed his eyes, and in the next instant it was daylight and she was gone.  He awoke with a sadness he had never felt before.  Not because his bride to be had gone back to Hlint.  But because he didn't remember any single detail about that night with her.  And so tonight, even if he didn't sleep a wink, he would at have some memory of what it was like to be with the one he loved.  With a small smile he thought that at least remembering tonight with her would keep him satisfied until they were married and could spend every night together.

As he watched her sleeping, he couldn't help but wonder what she dreamt about.  His nightmares were gone for the time being, and Jeran was suprised to find that he almost missed them.  Having all of your shortcomings, insecurities and personal doubts put on display every night was certainly a downer, but at least it kept you motivated.  Right now he felt as if he was floating, shiftless, aimless, and without drive.  There was a point in his life where he did float, and wander from town to town without a goal, but it didn't feel like this.  He thought hard and wondered if this is what love did to you, but that thought quickly left his mind.  With a slight smile he watched Anna sleepily roll over onto her back and thought that love might take away your ambition, but it fills you up with thoughts of someone so wonderful it took away all your troubles.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.  When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.  I held your hand through all of these years...

Dog's voice echoed softly in Jeran's mind and he smiled a little wider and quietly stood up to softly lay on the blanket next to her.  Reaching out he softly brushed some of her red hair out of her face.  A dreamy smile appeared on Anna's face and Jeran held her close.  As he closed his eyes he had decided that for the first time in his life, he was finally happy and almost content, at least when they were together.

[darkwulf365]

The rain fell softly outside of Moraken's tower.  Night had begun to fall as Jeran leaned against the tower and slowly slumped to the ground.  He sat with his head hung low in the misty grass, a posture of total and utter defeat.  Never before had he felt this way, beyond helplessness, which he knew, beyond fear, with which he was infinitely familiar...this had no true emotional equivalent.  Trapped, described it well, so did ensnared, entangled and imprisoned.  That was what he was, but those words did nothing to describe how he felt.  Betrayed was a start.  Backstabbed worked good too.  All of this by the being that shared his mind, all of his secrets, everything that is him, syphoned off to a devil from some circle of hell.

Oh, how he would make them pay for this, Dog and that damn devil.  Thoughts of anger and vengeance welled up within him and he picked his head up and looked out at the darkening woods with fire in his eyes.

'Yes...'  A slithery voice inside his mind spoke.  'you can do this...make them all pay, you know how...'  A calmness flooded his mind, and a small smile played across his face.  Letting loose on that annoying little imp made him feel good, like getting a kiss from Anna.  Celgar and Kharl though, that was verging ecstasy.  Both of them deserved it, gods knew they did, even going so far as to ask him to try.  His smile grew as he thought that you really do have to be careful what you ask for and that next time he planned on doing a little more than just stinging them.  The slithery voice chuckled softly

No.  Can't think like that.  Friends don't try to kill friends, no matter how much they deserve it, or ask for it.  The slithery voice broke out laughing at Jeran's pathetic denial and then fell silent, leaving the echoes of laughter inside his head.  His head sank again and he let out a small sigh filled with sadness, tinged with remorse.  Yes, trapped, definitely trapped.  Instincts and theft got him in this mess.  Hopefully logic and reasoning could get him out of it.

He thought back on what he was told.  The...thing, that celestial being, had told him that he didn't have to, and that he had a choice.  The choice seemed obvious, at least on the surface.  Give up his magical studies, or keep with them.  The no he didn't have to part bothered him though.  Didn't have to be slave to the devil?  Or maybe didn't have to give up anything?  With another sigh he decided to forego that line of thought for the time being, the combinations and possible answers were a little too confusing.  

The healer in Spellgard added nothing that he couldn't already surmise.  But at least he knew he was dealing with a devil instead of a demon.  What that entailed he didn't know, besides the fact that devil's seemed to be a little more persistent, calculating and harder to get rid of.  Another line of thought to be tucked away for later.  

Thoughts of pretending servitude to the devil and then overthrowing him seemed like a good plan.  That was until more infernal chuckling softly sounded in his mind.  Jeran let out with some frustrated mumbling.  Another dead end, can't sneak up on something that can hear your thoughts a mile away.

The idea of summoning the devil back, binding and then killing him also seemed feasible.  That thought is what led Jeran and his friends to this tower.  Moraken the wizard had given him the name of someone who might help, Rufus Coldfinger.  He didn't exactly sound like a warm, cheery person to Jeran.  He didn't think he could just walk up and say 'Hello, you don't know me, but see...I have this devil after me.  Do you think you could summon him up so I might, oh, I don't know, slay him where he stands?  I've got about 6000 gold I could pay you if you'd like.'  No, not likely to happen.  If Rufus couldn't be found, or refused him, the only other alternative was seeking out one of Blood's generals, he was told that they dealt in devils.  That almost seemed ludicrous, but another possible outcome, a good outcome, popped into Jeran's mind and he quickly suppressed that thought and moved on to something else.  The enemy can't steal a thought that you don't think.

While he was thinking all of this, he had picked up a small stick and started to draw in the dirt.  With a look of shocked horror he realized it looked a little too similar to the design Cel put on the ground when he summoned his celestial friend.  More soft laughter inside his head stayed with him as he quickly wiped the design out of the earth.

After some creative swearing, Jeran settled down enough to sigh one more time and started to frown in concentration.  It all boiled down to his choice then.  Continue studying magic and be a slave, or give it up and be, well, just be Jeran.  He thought of Anna and then he knew he would give up anything, everything, for her...for them.  He nodded slowly as if he had made a decision, but then stopped as he realized a possible consequence.  The healer had said that if he gave up further magical study that it would certainly irritate his devil.  Jeran didn't know what devils did when they were upset, but he was fairly positive that it didn't involve buying you dinner and a drink at the inn.  Infernal retribution was a good motivator for keeping his nose in a spellbook.  The part of his mind that was still, for lack of a better term, good, was relieved to think this.  The weave was in him, and he didn't think it'd just go away because he wanted it to.  Might have more luck asking a fish to stop swimming.  And there was still some part of him that took a pure joy in spellcasting.  In his mind he still felt like he earned this, and he would be damned to hell if any devil was going to take it away from him.  The thought that he might be damned to hell if he kept at his studies also occurred.  Another impasse.  

He slowly got up and started to walk toward town.  He thought that the devil you knew, was better than the devil you didn't, so maybe he could find some answers in the Great Library, he knew there was something he was missing, hopefully it'd be there.  He started to softly sing one of the songs Dog had taught him, sadness filling him as he walked.

'Wake me up inside/Call my name and save me from the dark...Bid my blood to run...Before I come undone/Save me from the nothing Ive become'

He sighed one last time before entering Hlint, hoping he wouldn't fry anybody ('At least anybody that doesn't deserve it' the slithery voice said).  And wishing more than anything for Anna to be with him now.

[darkwulf365]

The sun was shining brightly over the city of Leilon, particularly bright in the alley in which Jeran was slowly waking up.  It was probably early afternoon, but Jeran didn't know, and he quickly realized he didn't care as a headache in the vicinity of his left eye quickly settled in and started to pound inorexably.  He also noticed that the people in the crowded streets seemed exceptionally loud for some reason and he had to fight the urge to either walk around covering his ears or to scream at them to please, just please *shut up* in the name of all that is merciful.  He wondered how Xeenites do this every bloody night and muttered some creative curses upon Xeen and her wine under his breath.

As he carefully massaged his temples, wincing slightly at the pain of his own touch and tried to remember exactly how he got here in the first place.  His eyes happened to fall on his travel pack and he saw a piece of bright blue cloth sticking out, and with that came some fog of memory.  It was Kai's wedding, no...the after wedding party.  The Leilon Arms Inn...drinking, Celgar asking him about his, as he thought of it, "devil problem".  Smoking a pipe for the first time, more drinking, Ozy telling a story with a happy ending, some slurred words, even more drinking.  Memories started to flood him, and with them a growing sense of apprehension.  Some stupid drunk tomfoolery, Jacchri and Dorena talking in a corner, Kharl and him almost getting into a fight.  Kharl on fire, laughing at him.  Furniture getting damaged.  Acacea telling him that if he was going to kill anyone, to just do it outside.  Followed quickly by some more drinking.  More insulting remarks from Kharl.  The anger growing inside of him.  One more drink, one more insulting challenge from Kharl.  The growing sullen anger becoming a red haze of rage.  Kharl magically paralyzed as he looked down smirking.  Drawing his sword, saying he could slit Kharl's throat from here.  One final drink, some goodbyes to the others who weren't too shocked to talk to him.  Stumbling out into the nighttime air.  His last coherent thought as he teetered into the Leilon streets was how good it felt to, well, just burn somebody up sometimes, especially when they were loudmouthed-toorichforthierowngood-alwaysgettinghimkilled-notworththeirweightinbatdung paladins.  Then finally, blackness and slumber.

He groaned miserably at himself for being so stupid, the slithery undervoice inside his head was laughing quietly at him.  He knew he couldn't deny how he felt, but still, right was right, and wrong was wrong.  This time he was definately wrong.  But he also knew, he'd do it again, make the whole world burn, if he felt it deserved it.  He picked up his things and started to walk toward Hlint, and the undervoice became just an evil smile inside his mind, waiting for Jeran to fully embrace it.

[darkwulf365]

"I never said I'd lie in wait forever, if I did, we'd be together. Now, I can't always just forget her, but she could try..."

These words had a strange song like quietly, as the man spoke them, seemingly into his cup as he sat in a dark corner of the Inn.  He was thinking about Anna, about her being gone, her sudden return, and the choices he had had to make.  Right now it was just a dull aching somewhere inside of him.  Absently Jeran wondered if thats how a broken heart felt.  He quickly dismissed that, and decided he really didn't have a heart (No soul, no heart, a match made in the hells) at least not like he used to.  He just decided the aching was the last of his loneliness trying to eat at him.  Ordinarily, this would depress him, maybe even drive him to drink, or worse.  After Jeran engulfed his first five tankards, the ache was still there, all the alcohol was good for was making him ignore it for the most part.  Sometime during tankard #8, a drunk man, at least Jeran thought he was a man, he certainly smelled like something not quite human, plopped himself down unceremoniously across from him.  Jeran looked up from his tankard at his present company, absently blowing a few strands of matted hair out of his eyes.  The stranger was wearing a black hood and a black cape with red lining.  A smile spread across his young battered face as took in this sight.  Very sharp, mysterious, one might even go so far as to say...evil.  In that one quick instant, he decided he wanted it for himself.  And while there may be many ways to skin a cat, as his Pa used to say, Jeran decided there was only one way to get what you wanted from a drunken fool.  Jeran's only hope was that he wouldn't get any blood on what he already thought of as his new cloak.

"I won't suffer, be broken, get tired or wasted. Surrender to nothing, or give up what I started.  And stop this end from beginning, a new day is calling...and I...am...finally...free".  

The same bardic quality in Jeran's quiet voice.  Sometimes he thought he picked the wrong career.  His smile widened into a sharklike grin and he had to fight hard from breaking out in a rash of laughter.  

The drunk stirred slightly, mumbling some liquor induced response.  Jeran just nodded standing up slowly, walking behind the stranger, putting a hand on his shoulder.  He whispered a few suggestions to the drunk.  It took a few tries, but finally the man seemed to understand.  Nodding, his head lolling back and forth, Jeran helped him out of his seat and into the cool night air.  Jeran led him behind the Inn, and just stood there, supporting this stranger like he would his best friend.  What a sight they must make, and again Jeran almost laughed.  He took in a deep breath instead and looked up at the stars.  There were nine that caught his eye.  They had a reddish tint, and Jeran swore he thought that taken as a whole, they looked like a flame twinkling at midnight.  Quickly shaking his head, he turned back to the drunk.  Business now, stargazing later.  

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" He questioned the drunk slowly sliding one of his shortswords out of it's scabbard.  Before the other could nod, speak, blink or his heart beat one more time...

He never felt it coming.  

A final incoherent squeak were the drunk's last words.  Jeran nodded, the look in his eyes was almost compassionate.  "Shhhhhhh..." He said in a soft whisper as a smile that was nothing but wicked played across his young face.  His eyes hardned as the smile grew.

No blood on the cloak, but the stains on his boots...those'll take weeks to get out.

[darkwulf365]

It was just another day, or so he thought.  The sun seemed a little brighter than normal, the colors of the world more vibrant.  Jeran had the fleeting thought that somebody somewhere might've put something in one of his drinks.  This didn't feel like any hangover he'd ever had before...and he was quickly becoming an expert in that field.  He slowly sat up in the bed, marvelling at the fact he actually paid for a room.  Although he couldn't remember what town he was in, he didn't wake up next to anybody.  No headache though.  Very strange.  He inhaled slowly, exhaled, suprised to find out for some reason he felt like he could breathe a little easier now.  Some of the aches and pains he associated with...well, getting stomped repeatedly by almost every creature on this plane, just seemed to have vanished.

He stood up, stretching slowly, dressing and pulling his cloak around him.  Thinking that he had a new lease on life.  Looking out the window of the inn, everybody just seemed so much more relieved, happier even.

As the dark undervoice in his head whispered to him he grinned a small wolfish grin.  

Happy people even in these troubled times, and trouble on two legs feeling better than he had in what seemed like years.  Pulling up his hood as he walked out into the busy street, his grin widended.  They definately will all burn now, he thought.  He also thought he might owe some thanks to whoever did this for him, but that passed quickly as wind through a fence.

[darkwulf365]

It was a sunny beautiful day in Hampshire.  The sun was out in full force, the wind blowing enough to make the day's heat go away.  Birds and gulls chirped happily going about their avian business.  All the locals seemed to have some sort of smile on their face, or at least be upbeat about something.  

It was all rather sickening to Jeran to tell the truth.  He waded his way through the crowded streets head down like a bull, just daring anybody to break his stride.  Any passerby that tried to engage him was met with a curt, sarcastic response for even thinking of interrupting him.  Unfortunately his normal churlishness seemed to lose it's desired effect which made his bad mood even worse.  As he made his way toward the docks, he was held up by a young girl selling flowers.  Of course they were roses, dark...red...beautiful roses.  She looked up at him, holding one out for him to examine without saying a word.  Her eyes were so large and innocent, so difficult to resist.  With an almost internal tearing inside of himself he purchased one.  Not even able to bring himself to snatch it out of her hand, throw the money on the ground or even offer some sort of stinging parting remark.  Just a simple "Thank you" in his deep, quiet voice as he gently took the rose out of the girl's hand.  And just turning to walk away, no dramatic swirling of his cloak...nothing.  Walking away he cursed himself vehemently.  He had even overpaid her.  Some days, you just shouldn't get out of bed he thought.  

He made his way into the pub, plopping down at the bar.  The barkeep approached but Jeran just waved him away, unable to take his eyes off of his newest purchase.  A rose so red he got lost in it's color.  He sighed, almost angrilly as he sat there.  He didn't know how long it was before he got up, wondering with bemusement why he had even come in the first place.

How could she do this to him?  It was going to be just a simple game, one he had played many times before.  She just...she...why?
What did he ever do to deserve this?  As that question entered his mind, he almost laughed with the irony of it.  He knew exactly what he had done to deserve this.  

He started the long walk north, knowing where he was going, living,dying, hoping and cursing at every step.  The entire time, her face seeming to float before his eyes.  This was just not right.  The frustration of it all made him want to scream.  
The voice inside his head sang on and on...
I'll do anything for you, kill anyone for you...The morning will come in the press of every kiss.  With your head upon my chest, where I will annoy you with every waking breath...Until you decide to wake up.

As he reached the Broken Forest, in a desperate grasp for something to vent on, he marched straight to the marker that was the center of the forest and pounded on it with his gloved fists for what seemed like hours.  

Nothing happened.

And finally he did scream.

Stomping the rest of the way to Krandor, hoping to make the very earth shake with the sound of his footsteps, cursing at a higher level than any drunken dwarf or sailor could even hope to reach.  He stopped in front of her door.  He knew she was inside, all he had to do was knock.  He knew she'd open the door and be overjoyed that he thought to come by.  He knew he'd see her smile, and get her to laugh within minutes.  He also knew she scared him more than anything he'd ever seen in his life.  He knew the hard exterior shell he had built up was starting to crumble whenever he was around her and it wouldn't last much longer.  He knew this was torture.  He knew this was the ruination of everything. He knew that she knew and felt the same way.  He knew...

He was in love.

He laid the rose carefully at her doorstep and walked away, shoulders slumped wearily, head down.  

He missed her already...

[darkwulf365]

Queitly creeping along the mountainside under cover of invisibility, he crept trying to return where he had been only recently.  The intense heat was turning the air into a thick mass that was almost unbreathable.  Ashes kept getting sucked into his mouth, causing him to choke.  Of course he had drank all his water too quickly, and was in too far to turn back for more.

He had fallen in with a group of adventurers (including that goody good Yardislan, how he had laughed inside when that one fell, both times) heading to Firesteep mountains.  Of course Ranewin was with them as well (being apart from her for too long was hard, so very hard), so that complicated things quite a bit, but he quickly thought up a solution.  Ranewin's affections had made him...well, he loved her, loved the way she made him feel.  Hated the weakness he felt growing inside himself whenever she looked at him.  

Finally finding out that somebody loves you, and unable to deal with it.  Irony strikes again.

As soon as he set foot on the island, the 9 red stars seemed to stand out brightly, almost screaming at him in his mind.  He knew he had finally reached the right place.

Unfortunately, in keeping with his long standing tradition of being unable to handle anything remotely dangerous...he died.

Fortunately, it seemed as if the Soul Mother had vanished, closing his eyes momentarilly in the Void of Death, he laughed long and loud, unable to hold it in any longer.  It was almost too perfect really.

Too perfect lasted about a half day into his little expedition back to Firesteep.  As the heat and the ashes set in his lungs and he realized he had absolutely no idea where exactly he was going.  

Two days, no food except the occasional apple and countless Invisibility spells later, he was almost ready to give up, when he finally found it.  Of course it was right next to the boat landing to the island.  Two days of wandering for a 10 minute journey.  If irony was a club it would've knocked him brain dead.

He sighed, looked up one more time at the night sky to see the flaming stars, he saw a statue, he didn't bother to even see what it said.  The stars in the sky and everything that he felt told him that this was right.  He didn't know if it was dark or light, evil or good...just, right.

Knocking weakly on the door with what little strength he had left, he slumped down on his knees, in a posture of suplication and openness that was usually unlike him.

Kneeling, he closed his eyes, and tried to meditate.  His last concious thought before his mind entered the tranquil void of inner concentration.

He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man

He knelt there, he didn't know how long, for acceptance, or whatever end would lie next.