Author Topic: The Reborn (nevaeh)  (Read 7538 times)

Johnis Hunter

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The Reborn (nevaeh)
« on: June 02, 2010, 06:48:00 am »
--several years earlier--

The stubby dwarf ran for her life through the drow city of Zzukenathaft,
small crossbow quarrel skipped past, several getting caught in the dwarfs
waving cloak, and yet the dwarf ran, with an abandon. Leaping over fallen
drow and dwarf alike she pumped on, finally reaching the dwarven front line.
Hear the command 'fire' she instinctly dropped to her stomach, hearing the
distinct 'clicks' of the dwarven crossbows, quarrels whistling past, the volley
leaving a path of agony and death.
Hearing the commander shout to reload, she climbed to her feet and clambered over,
and into the dwarven trench circling the entire city. Reaching safety, the
dwarf collapsed, apparently a quarrel had gotten through, and the potent
drow poison coursed through her veins, rendering the once powerful form
defenseless and as if a child.

Many dwarves circled the short cot, talking quickly, and moving with a rushed
purpose. Visible between the dwarves, Nevaeh shook violently on the cot, her
skin pale and white, her face blotchy red, her veins exploding with the intense
wretching. "The poison is doing its job, Bruen, i doubt she'll live through
the night, we havent the antidote."
The older dwarf looked on, toying with a small symbol hanging around his neck,
one of Markov. "So be it, another casualty in a bloody war, do you expect
any different?"
"She is of Markov, He would not approve of hear untimely death." the smaller
dwarf argued.
"Markov is not here, i give the orders, and if you doubt my authority, you too
will be on a cot not far from this very place." Bruen glared at the smaller dwarf
seething with anger.

Nevaeh's convulsions stopped shortly after the arguement, her body sagging, her
life force leaving her mortal form behind on a small cot.
On and On her spirit floated, aimless and without reason, she floated over the
many battles being fought on the many fronts. She watched as drow and dwarf alike
where cut down in a fury of clanging blades.
On she floated, even stopping over her lifeless form below her, looking down
at her own pathetic form somehow created such an anger inside her, that she
attempted to scream, a blood curdling scream, but nothing could be heard.
She stayed there for several hours, watching the other dwarf clean her,
replace her clothes, and take her to a pyre to be burned.

In a fit of anger, she cried out to her god, Markov, for aid, pleeding to be
rushed back into her mortal form, so that she may exact revenge and aid her
family against the drow. But her prayers went unanswered, and her body sat, in a
long line, waiting for its turn to be burned. She sat over her corpse seething.
Grasping for any sort of communication with anyone. The dwarf waited, and waited
and waited, floating between the realm of life, and death.

Nevaeh stared down at her corpse, all hope was lost when on the distant horizon
a small, humanoid form was visible, it grew larger, and larger as it walked on
coming straight for the floating form. Nevaeh grew panicked, but oddly enough
felt calmed by the oncoming being. Finally the form came to a hault, directly
infront of the spirit, a broad, welcoming smile across his face.
"Nevaeh?" he questioned, looking on with a surprising interest.
The spirit nodded, and continued to look shocked, at the form.
"Ah, good, I am Lathuzil and I have been watching you for some time," the form
looked down at the dwarven corpse and then back at the spirit, "It would
appear your in quite the predicament." the form chortled.
Nevaeh glared at the form, anger raging through the etheral form, but the ability
to control her body, was not her own.

"I'm going to show you, dwarf, what will happen if i return you, with the promise
you must accept your fate, child, and what you will become." The form stated.
Nevaeh nodded promptly, eager for even a glimpse of her clan, and if
she would return to the battlefront.

In an instant, both forms where launched into the current chamber where
the dwarves body lay. Lurking within the shadows, both beings stared on, waiting.
Moments later, several stubby dwarves, clad in clerical robes, rushed into the room.
Immediatley rythmic chants began, the dwarves working in unison to call to their
god, a desperate prayer for resurection. For hours the dwarves chanted until
the collapsed, drained of their spiritual powers and needing desperate rest.
As the three hung their heads, they began the sorrow filled walk from the chamber
of despair.

The spectral form watched from the shadows, realising that her god had forsaken her.
For days it seemed the two forms watched the corpse, when suddenly a cloaked
figure glided into the center of the room, before the corpse the figure stopped
The faceless form pausing for several moments, as if in thought when a massive
explosion of flame and sulfur destroyed the room and everything surrounding.

Nevaeh screamed in anger as the two forms where yet again plunged into another room,
the figure that caused the explosion standing center stage within a great audience chamber.

"It is done, my lord." the being hissed, bowing deeply

The demon looked on with great interest, nodding in reply, He turned to his right
speaking to his advisor in a wicked tongue "So shall it begin."
The advisor looked on, nodded, and quickly exited the chamber.

"This is where i leave you now, dwarf, with the decision to return and face
what is to become of you, or to be banished to the abyss."

The dwarf thought for only a moment, recaling the past events in a big confusing
ball, then nodded quickly, "Return me, NOW!" the dwarf screamed.

Moments later, the dwarf walked the mortal plane once more, marching with a malicious
purpose, the thirst for blood obvious across her face, the dwarf marched,
marched straight to the doors of the temple of Markov, swinging her flail as she