Application of a long lost soul

[Morindin]

A cold wind blows across the grounds of the mighty Keep. Born of the mountains of a distant land, it carries the bitter feel of snow and ice, and the sour tang of death itself. Across the surrounding grassland it weaves its way, until finally it reaches the ancient graveyard, burial ground of past writers both loved and loathed. As if guided by some unknown purpose or will the wind slips between the stone slabs, seeking, searching. At last it comes to rest on one in particular. Older than some stones yet younger than many others it bears a long forgotten name, intricatly carved.

 

As the wind settles above the ancient marker an ancient and withered voice appears to spring from nowhere, accompanied by the haunting sound of pipes.

 

"He who was lost has now been found. The one who had perished, again must rise!"

 

The invisible pipes begin to play more urgently, becoming faster and faster, calling, summoning. Black thunder clouds carrfied by the wind spit lightning and rain, casuing the earth to tremble and shake. Finally with a titanic BOOM! the earth splits infront of the grave marker rending in two. The music stops and all is now silent.

 

A figure rises from the now open grave. Draped in a long black cloak, carrying an ancient looking staff, he streches and groans as if waking from a long sleep. Warily he looks about, surpressing a smile at the sight of the familiar fortress that he remembered as home. Slowly, staff tapping on the ground before him, he made his way towards it. What a surprise it would be for his old friends...if any were still alive.

 

The stone that marked the now empty grave leant drunkly, yet the name was still visible. The name, was "Solivagus"

[Degorram]

Degorram sat up in bed as if she had never been asleep, staring around at the walls carefully and with an outward sense of calm that her pounding heart did not betray. The prickles on the back of her neck were crawling up into her scalp, setting her mussed hair ablaze with shimmering flashes of red and purple.

 

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a deep breath through her nose, inhaling the fresh, sharp scent of wind and rain and sky that was entering her room through the open window. The curtains swayed with a light evening breeze.

 

I did not wake up on my own, though, Degorram thought as she pulled the covers off of her legs and stepped silently out of bed. She placed her hand on the windowsill and peered out at the night sky. A bank of thunderous clouds was moving off into the east, beating a hasty retreat after an even hastier disturbance. But no rain had entered her room; the table covered in scrap bits of paper, doodles and notes, had not lost a single occupant to any strong gusts.

 

Something smelled nasty in Degorram's subconscious. Nasty and familiar. She didn't want to believe her instincts, wary and unwilling to admit that perhaps the horror was starting again. You killed one necromancer before, she reminded herself. But at what cost? was the immediate counter.

 

Yet something was also different. If their ancient foe had indeed decided to come back himself (again!) then she would be at this very moment melting into the forest, drawn against her will by a power malevolent enough to overrule her own. And this time, she thought with a chill, none would be the wiser. The fortress had been quiet for a long time. Pennites had been coming and going for months now, keeping to themselves or attending to other business or adventures abroad. She saw them, occasionally, in the hallways, and greetings were exchanged, but other than that....quiet. Even Kikuyu was away, aiding the adventures of a bard that Degorram had introduced her to. How would the shapeshifter's twin be able to get to her in time if a necromancer (the necromancer) had come back for a second battle?

 

Degorram suddenly felt very alone. She concentrated on the spark that differentiated what she felt now with the darkness that had almost consumed her all those years ago. Yes....something surely had come out of the ground recently. It had been summoned. But there was life there, not un-life. Someone had come back, but it did not feel forced, unnatural, angry, or diseased like the work of a necromancer.

 

She threw on a short over-cape that hung to her hips and leapt over the side of the window. A pair of black wings sprouted from her shoulders as she plummeted, the feathers catching the air to slow her descent just a few yards above the surface of the ground. Too late she realized that she had left her scythe leaning against the wall in her room. Degorram shrugged the cape closer around her neck and brushed off the unease she felt at being unarmed. If she had to make do, she was perfectly capable of making do.

 

The entrance to the keep was just in her sights when her eye caught the semi-hunched figure making it's way boldly through the gates, a staff extended in front of it, guiding its way like a blind man. Could be a ruse, she thought, but she did not feel the conviction of the suspicion. She moved close enough to be within earshot.

 

"Pause a while, stranger," she called out, her voice an uneasy mix of cold inquiry and suppressed good manners. "You have just entered the gates of the Mighty Pen Keep. We do not often receive guests in the middle of the night, and I know all the names of those who belong here."

 

The figure, removing the cowl from over his face, glanced up at Degorram curiously to reveal the face of a man. "The keep I know," he explained slowly. "You, however, I do not. My name is Solivagus. Who are you?"

 

"I am Degorram," she replied. Her muscles were slowly relaxing, even though her mind was not. "I am one of the remaining guardians of this place. I am to understand that you are a pennite yourself, or were, once upon a time?"

 

"Indeed," the man replied, glancing around nostalgically at the walls, grounds, and towers that sprawled before him. "Once upon a time, quite a time ago in fact. I have been...resting, so to speak. I had hoped that perhaps there would still be some who know me living here. Where are the others?"

 

"They come and go," Degorram said. She gestured helplessly at the keep behind her. "Our humble home has seen better days, I will admit. We were attacked some time ago by a powerful necromancer, and we never quite recovered from the sacrifices that were made to stop his ruin." Her eyes grew dark, and her hair flashed, as if an electrical shock had run through her from bottom to top. "Which is why," she said, her voice suddenly harsh, "you surely must understand that being woken by the rising of the dead is unsettling to me."

 

"Ah," Solivagus said, tapping his staff gently on the cobblestone path in thought. "And I have no way, if as much time has passed as I suspect, to prove to you that I mean no harm."

 

"There are ways," Degorram replied more softly. "You can start by explaining to me who you are and how you came to be standing here now."

 

 

 

 

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OOC:

 

Welcome back, Morindin! So good to see some activity on the site. : ) I am Degorram, the current in-charge Pennite of the Recruitment forums and Shape-shifting Quill Bearer. You will see that I have changed your membership status from 'Guest' to 'Initiate'.

[Morindin]

The weather beaten face creased in a small smile as Morindin, nae Solivagus, eyed his questioner up and down. The Staff stayed quiet in his hand, showing no reaction to the soul infront of him. Not that that meant anything for certaIn, of course. It had been fooled before.

 

"I must say, despite the troubles that seem to have befallen you, I much prefer this greeting to my first ever encounter at the keep. That time I was met by a seemingly insane green creature, swamped with paperwork that threatned constantly to bury him at any second! Perhaps some quiet is what the place needed for a while, cuts down on the amount of red tape.

 

"As to who I am, my name is Morindin, wielder of the Staff of Law, at your service and the keeps."

 

Morindin bowed, his long dark robe flowing about him. Yet despite his words and tone, the stranger before him still looked doubtful. He couldn't blame her he supposed. It had been a long time, and he did look like he had just crawled out of a grave.

 

"You smell like it too", the voice of the Staff echoed in his head. It sounded distinctly amused.

 

"I didn't ask you to bring me back" he sent back irritably, a frown crossing his face as he attempted to convey his displeasure. "I was perfectly happy sleeping until you dragged me out of there."

 

"Sleeping, or sulking?"

 

With a loud HARRUMPH! he shut down communication with the Staff. The last thing he needed was its sarcastic comments invading his head. Besides, he had a horrible feeling it was telling the truth. He turned his attention back to the stranger before him.

 

"I am sorry, getting rather old. Mind wanders now and then. Is there anyone from the old days left who might be able to vouch for me? Peredhil? Wyvern? Appy? They cannot all be gone surely."

[Degorram]

OOC: Woops! Sorry for getting your name wrong. Degorram's ears twitched, comforted slightly that Morindin at least could cite the names of her friends. She was slowly letting the tension leave her shoulders. "Wyvern has been away for quite a long while now," she murmured, clear regret tinging her voice. "He was, and still is, one of my dear friends here. He saved my life a few times. But even persons such as Wyvern occasionally have serious business to attend to. He was called back to his homeland by older friends and needs than the like of which reside in this keep. He made no mention whether he might ever return. As for Peredhil, he comes and goes; I get letters more often than I see him on the grounds. Appy I have neither seen nor heard from since..." she frowned as her mind trekked back into a different age, "well, since the Necromancer caused his damage."

 

She sighed, and her lizard-like tail twitched, tracing the curves of the cobblestone absently. "Your presence only reminds me of how untrusting I have become. The world used to be a place of peace, and we never feared to welcome strangers into these walls. I apologize for that. If only I could control the times, I should make things like they once were. But welcome, Morindin. I assume you do not need a tour."

 

Degorram shifted her body so that the pathway was clear, extending an arm towards the castle. "By the way," she said, a glint entering her eye that assured Morindin that she was of good humor once again, "if you have any magic that can fix this old place up more *quickly* I would appreciate the help. I have been sole-grounds keeper for quite a while, and my patience with repairing brick by brick is wearing thin."