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Messages - Seth
1
« on: August 26, 2009, 02:07:35 pm »
Its Abominable!
*chuckle*
2
« on: August 25, 2009, 06:38:01 pm »
How did I end up here.. Cursed maps, cursed trader. If I ever see that weasel again I'll remove his heart with a spoon.
Fort Vehl, interesting kind of town. Opportunities aplenty for those with a keen eye.
I met a few of the local colour, red being the main colour of all. Red was accompanied by a tall drink of water and a hungry snowdrop. Interesting group. They seem to have connection to the character running the whole show, so seems to be to my advantage to keep a connection with them.
Everyone I had known near here is either dead or.. well.. dead really. Think I might have killed some of them..
Anyway, time to rebuild bridges, find some allies and get on with taking over this show.
I've wasted a century already, tramping around this bleedin' continent, chasing ghosts. Time I carved my retirement.
3
« on: August 24, 2009, 06:19:08 pm »
Delirious half-dreams spun on for days, although weeks or years could have passed without my knowing. Demons raged in my broken mind, twisting like shattered diamonds. My angel, she watched over me. Bones knit and mind soothed, she pulled my twisted existence back from the edge of damnation.
Morrigann, my angel..
Her name rang in my ears and for a moment I was complete.
As quickly as happiness came, madness slammed that door closed. The days that were to follow will stain my soul forever. Guilt and shame are emotions that I have no great experience with, conscience was always been more of a vague notion to me.
But this..
I blame my weakened mental state, my trauma after losing my closest friend, but in reality this is no more the truth than most which passes my lips. Lie for long enough and the lines between truth and fiction begin to blur.
It was in the depths of dreams that I first reached for a weapon, sure that my saviour was not.
SUCCUBUS! WITCH!
Her voice only poured more rage on the inferno. Mimic! Vile temptress!
I lashed out with every twisted trick in my vile arsenal.
The bonds came from no-where, root and branch and vine, wrapping and binding. I fought with every inch of my strength, convinced of the malevolent presence that sought my mind.
I do not know how long we battled, or the outcome beyond what I saw when I awoke.
Carnage. So much destroyed within such a small space. Her home, possessions.. Walls ruptured with broken vines; bed, chairs, table all in splinters. Huddled in the corner, furthest from my reach, lay a tiny figure wrapped in a bloody blanket. Elven, cropped red hair, and beauty that broke my heart in an instant.
Morrigann.
Her eye was encircled with sickly purple-yellow bruising, blood seeped out to stain the blanket. I dearly wished my chest would explode to ease the pain building inside. Run.. Get away from here.. Every nerve in my body ached to be out of this place, yet I stood.
"You're awake," her voice was cracked and weak.
Still I stood, silent and empty. Shame forced my face towards the floor.
A ragged cough escaped her lips, split and dry, blood splattering softly on the blanket. Her eyes rolled slightly, her head lolling to one side. Her breathing shallow, she lapsed back in to unconsciousness with the faintest smile crossing her lips.
The burning pressure in my chest would not subside. Shame, guilt.. I had killed women before, robbed those that helped me, stolen and destroyed the meagre possession of those who have nothing. I do not say I relished those tasks, but never had I felt like this.
It was not my fault..
The dreams held me..
I could do nothing to prevent it..
Reason..
Reason..
Guilt..
Shame..
I quickly flicked open the heel on my boot, carefully extracting an ancient piece of metal. Stolen from a seduced priestess of Toran, my precious regeneration charm had kept me alive many years longer than I deserved. Her breath became weaker, barely a gasp as I pushed the cold metal disc into her hand.
Sunlight dappled through broken windows and slats, tiger striping the walls with morning light. Breath came easier, to both her and I. Time to leave, my welcome has been well overstayed. Instinct told me to loot the house, take what I could for the road ahead. I forced it down and out, not her..
The door opens and I leave without a word, dark marks on a dark conscience.
Time to go home, or as close to a home as you have.
Hlint will be oh so pleased to see you I'm sure...
4
« on: August 24, 2009, 02:30:01 pm »
Thanks,
Looking forward to playing the world this time, Gming is awesome, but don't think I got a character past lvl 10 over the whole 3 years I played!
5
« on: August 24, 2009, 12:03:47 pm »
"I awoke countless hours later, saturated with the blood of others. My own had pooled down a small slope, I spent what felt like hours watching the debris shift in the deep crimson.
Single flashes, like pictures, strung together to form an outline of memories. My sword, the faithful feyduster, stuck in his filthy robe. His face; almost peaceful, closed eyes and a hint of a smile. The spongy, wet feeling; my head felt like a cracked egg. Sharp, broken stabbing pains in my skull..
I wandered through endless tunnels, hours or minutes could have passed, I have no idea.
All I remember was surrender, nothing left to lose or live for.
Then there was that light, the light from my angel.
6
« on: August 24, 2009, 11:49:49 am »
The tunnels began to knit together, uniting as they delved deeper.
Further down the tunnel a glimmer of light caught Seth's eye, a flash of what he sought perhaps. Quickening his pace, he gripped his blade with burning ambition.
The light intensified, breaking out from a cavern just ahead. Seth drew a breath of the rancid air, steadying himself and stepped into the light.
As he exhaled the sour air, the rock of solace in what remained of Seth’s life disappeared in a brutal, violent flash.
The scene in front of him unfolded in all its cruel glory.
Bodies laced the cavern, men, women, and children. Not the corpses of warriors, nor were their deaths that of battle. Their faces contorted in horror, their limbs held in death in their defensive positions. This was a slaughter…
Held for a second, Seth’s vision settled on the form of a small girl in the centre of the cave, alive yet shackled to the floor. Her hollow screams focused on a darken figure approaching from the back of the cave.
“Your turn will come, justice will come to you in a moment.”
The voice twisted in Seth’s brain like a poisoned blade…
Sorden…
The shadows uncloaked the all too familiar figure of a true friend past, now unrecognisable.
Raising his staff, Sorden landed a sickening blow across the young girl’s temple sending a stream of crimson blood cascading across the walls.
Frozen in horror, Seth’s gaze locked to the corpse of the girl as her lifeless form flopped to the ground.
“Why?” The words fell from Seth’s mouth like meteors from the sky, his expression locked in one of horror.
“Why?! Why, you ask my oldest friend?” Sorden’s words seemed to hang in the air as he wiped the blood from his staff, “ You of all should know why!”
Attempting a response, Seth’s voice failed him.
“I see you have become weak in your age. Justice has been served, for crimes of past and crimes she would have committed.”
“Justice?!? You call that justice!”
“And what would you know of justice old rogue?” Sorden sneered, “You who has never done anything without reward or recompense?”
“I came in search of you did I not?” Seth began to circle around his old friend, “ I sought nothing but your safety.” Seth’s eyes began to well.
“And so you have found me,” Sorden threw his arms back and laughed, “Many a night have I envisioned this moment! The look on your face is not what I imagined.”
Seth let out a crack of a grin, “I am pleased to disappoint you, and this madness must come to an end. What have you become?”
“I have become what I was destined to be, I am the justice no-one else is willing to dispense.” Sorden drew his staff closer to his body, “And you think you can stop me?”
“No…” Seth’s eyes grew black with sorrow, “I only wish to save you.”
“We shall see old rogue, we shall see…”
The words dispersed across the cave in a flash of spark as Seth’s blade collided with the staff of his friend.
Lunging forward, Sorden turned, landing a handsome blow on Seth’s back. Reeling slightly, Seth rolled back to his feet and set forward with all the fury he could muster.
Sorden lunged once more, twirling his staff and aiming for the head of his adversary. Time stood still, sword cutting a wake in the air towards guts; staff rolling its lethal oak towards skull.
Blink..
Pain..
Pure white..
Then black.
7
« on: April 04, 2005, 11:06:00 am »
against the machine.. 
8
« on: February 22, 2005, 05:26:00 am »
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..
9
« on: February 22, 2005, 03:33:00 am »
More an imp person myself, the pixie noise drove me absolutely nuts after about 5 mins.. low tolerance for twinkling noises!
10
« on: February 11, 2005, 11:56:00 am »
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.
11
« on: February 03, 2005, 01:07:00 am »
"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.
12
« on: January 13, 2005, 04:12:00 am »
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.
13
« on: December 22, 2004, 05:35:00 am »
"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.
14
« on: November 03, 2004, 05:37:00 am »
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.
15
« on: November 03, 2004, 01:54:00 am »
Exert from Journal
"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!
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 don't, it will catch up to you!"
16
« on: September 22, 2004, 05:56:00 am »
"HALT..... or not.." Gm controlled character attempting to stop the party beating it sensless... the or not came from beyond the grave..
17
« on: August 26, 2009, 02:18:36 pm »
No no no... Skip that..
*scribbles out title*
Investment opportunities aplenty! Just contact Seth in Fort Vehll; tailor, miner blacksmith, bodyguard!
No job is too small, no advance to large!
*scribbled at the water stained base of the note, in very small writing*
Abilities may be exaggerated, payment up front, no refunds
18
« on: August 23, 2009, 03:39:16 pm »
Hey all, Was a player many years ago and decided (after a little coercion) to head back over and roll up an old friend. Got tired of playing pointless grinders with no soul, so really looking forward to a decent bit of Rp. Don't get a lot of time to play owing to a new little lady in my life (8 months old) but figured I can wander while she snoozes. Just need to get my wife on now too Seth
19
« on: December 08, 2004, 06:48:00 am »
The Lonely Road
Mages are generally not known for their stimulating social company, preferring the comfort of their towers and the companionship of books. This thought fell true for one such reclusive mage, Braden Veld.
He is said to have had a tower near Lar, only ever venturing out to collect supplies. There he conducted experiments on contortion of invisibility, aiming to eventually be able to completely obfuscate himself from the world for as long as he wished. Driven by his consuming urge for privacy, he worked for many years on this one spell, a combination of planar shifting and invisibility, holding a being to this plane in essence yet shifting their physical form to a pocket plane.
Upon completion, Braden activated the spell sending his physical form to his pocket plane, but staying on layonara in ethereal form. His mind raced with thoughts of what to do, the millions of possibilities that come with completely undetectable invisibility. He quickly realised however, the spell was drawing too much of his power, weakening him considerably. Much to his disappointment, he began to dismiss the spell, drawing himself back as one. One thing everyone should know about planar travel is that nothing is ever for certain. The most brilliant mind in the world can place a good probability on what should happen, but there is never certainty.
Before Braden could fully pull himself back, the spell collapsed in on itself. Braden blacked out…
Upon waking, Braden found himself still in ethereal form, yet having no indication as to where his body lay. Unable to cast, he fought with his new form, reaching out to objects only to have his hands go straight through them. He could not touch, feel, smell or taste.
Stuck in his ghostly form, Braden returned to his tower, roaming the rooms for many years. He tried in vain to speak with people of the town, desperate to reach those he had so badly wanted to avoid. Exhausting his options, Braden took to the road.
Tis never folly to wish to hide, we all require our quiet moments of privacy. To be completely alone however, destroys the souls of the strongest.
Braden apparently still wanders the paths of Mistone, never seen nor heard, a ghost trapped in his own desire.
20
« on: November 25, 2004, 04:19:00 am »
Rumoured to be one of the oldest areas of the underdark, Shadow Run is supposed to have been a gauntlet of traps created by some of the first Drow. The traps, although disarmable, seem to reappear soon after. Adventurers tales say that the traps hold the souls of their prey, binding them to the trap to catch others.
Constantly shifting, there has never been a map created showing a through way, or even where Shadow Run actually lies. Many believe it is an old wives tale, some say the corridor was collapsed in on itself.
Regardless, Shadow run belongs in the books of legends, if not for the lives it has claimed, then for the mysteries that are held beyond.
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