Post by vendredi on Mar 27, 2007 21:42:38 GMT -5
((Vendredi, Mel....both me. Here's a little background on Mel.))
Everything was darkness. She could smell the rich loam of fresh earth, feel the coolness of a summer evening, hear nothing but the enshrouding silence of a winter night, but around and within, above and below, there was the darkness. It enshrouded her, protected her, comforted her.
<SCRAPE>
The silence was broken, but the darkness remained. The darkness was her home, her comfort.
<SCRAPE>"....hello?"
The smell of fresh earth changed, to a foul, rotting smell, but the darkness remained. As long as she had the darkness, she was complete.
<SCRAPE>"Look, I know you're there. Get up!"
The coolness vanished in a rush of hot, humid, heavy air, but the darkness.....
"Dad blast it woman, wake up!"
The darkness was gone, and the light assaulted her.
Melessendra lurched upright, her head spinning, her heart in her throat. The brightness of the setting sun stabbed at her eyes.
"Hmph. About time too. What were ye plannin' te do, lie there forever?"
She looked up into a nightmare face. Glowing yellow eyes, skin a horrible bluish tinge....her gaze travelled down, to the hands clasping the shovel. Fingers that were simply bare bone, drumming impatiently on the wooden handle. Her mouth dried in terror, and she opened her mouth to scream, when she noticed her surroundings for the first time.
"Now, missy, don't fret," the undead said almost anxiously as he read the growing horror on her face. "I know it's a shock, wakin' up in a coffin, but ye're not the first, an' until things change, ye won't be the last."
Melessendra's eyes took in the dozens of graves that surrounded her, and the awful truth began to dawn. Slowly, she looked down at the tatters of her robe, and saw skin as blue as the apparition standing beside her. She held up trembling hands, and saw the gleam of bone. Light help me....
With a soul-rending shriek, she scrambled out of the grave, and ran.
"Lass, wait!" The call of the undertaker faded quickly into the distance as she ran, raw panic lending her strength. She tore out of the graveyard, and skidded to a halt.
It had once been a town, but now....everywhere she looked, faces with glowing eyes, or no eyes at all, regarded her. Some stood guard, some hawked their wares, some stood close together, deep in conversation. The Light has forsaken me.
"Hello Miss, would you be needing any supplies?" A vendor with black holes where his eyes once were sidled up to her, an ingratiating gap-toothed smile on his ruined face. She shook her head, and fled. Beyond the edge of the town she could see a forest in the dusky light, and she ran toward it. Suddenly a large figure loomed up before her, a figure with a large sword on his back.
"Now, don't be leaving just yet," said a corpse that once must have been a strapping young man. "It's not safe out there - "
With an agility born of desperation, she threw herself beneath his reaching arm, and ran harder. For a short while, he gave chase, shouting after her, but her feet had wings, and soon he fell behind. Soon she reached the border of the forest, and the shadows swallowed her as she wound her way into the underbrush. She ran, the branches scratching her face and snagging her hair, taking any path throught the trees she could find. A voice deep within said that running could not change what had happened, but she ignored it, pushing herself to keep going, to run faster. The sun had set by the time she staggered to a halt, and the only sound she could hear was her own ragged sobbing. Melessendra collapsed under a gnarled oak, and curled into a wretched ball, crying until she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Melessendra knelt in the soft soil, carefully weeding around the tiny emerging shoots that had just begun to feel the warmth of the sun.
"I see you wasted no time this year," a deep, kind voice said at her shoulder. She looked up into the smiling face of Brother Aldus.
"It's been warm," she said, smiling back. "I thought perhaps I could get a head start."
The old monk lowered himself carefully onto a nearby bench, wincing at the cold stone. "You have learned nearly all we can teach you about plants and herbs, child. You could easily start your own shop down in the town, you know."
She avoided his gaze, and went back to her weeding. "I'm very happy here, Brother."
The old man sighed. "Melessendra, you have been nothing but a Blessing to us since you came to us as a frightened little girl. You know that those who brought you feared your Gifts, not knowing what they were. Your training is as complete as your knowledge of herbalism; you could be a great boon to the outside world as a Healer. And your whole life is ahead of you; why would you want to spend it with a bunch of crusty old men?"
She looked up, eyes wide. "Because you are my family. You taught me about the Light, about myself. And you may need me as much as anyone out there."
Aldus regarded her soberly, stroking his sparse beard. He seemed about to say something more, but was interrupted by a hoarse call.
"Help! Please help!" A young lad came running through the front gate of the monastery, his eyes wild with terror. He dropped to his knees in front of Aldus, gasping for breath; the monastery lay on a hill overlooking the town, and Melessendra realized that he must have run the whole way.
Aldus' face was grave. "What is it, son?"
The boy's eyes rolled in his head like a spooked horse's. "They're sick, Father, they're all sick," he stopped as a sob caught in his throat, then pulled himself together once more. "My mum, my da, they're....I think they're dying.....the Reeve says it's the....it's the Plague."
Aldus stared down at the stricken youth for a long moment, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Melessendra felt her throat dry at the mention of the Plague, something she had only heard tell of in stories, but something that was always fatal. The Brother rose slowly, and placed a gentle hand on the shaking boy's shoulder.
"We will come," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. He glanced at Melessendra, his face grim. "Now we all have need of you, girl. Call the others and tell them we have work to do."
When she woke, it was still dark. She did not know how long she had slept, and did not care. Numbly, she stumbled to her feet, and pressed on, following a narrow trail through tightly packed trees and brush. No moonlight made its way through the undergrowth, and Melessendra suddenly realized that she should not be able to see, but the darkness was no hindrance to her new eyes. Dead eyes, but useful eyes. The trees began to grow larger as she walked, and further apart. Soon she came to a clearing, where the moon shone down unimpeded. It sparkled on a little brook that crossed her path, and she knelt down to drink. Why do I need to drink? she thought, confused. As she bent over the water, she caught sight of her reflection. It was every bit as ghastly as she had thought, the eyes glowing like demonic fire, the skin devoid of all warmth. I am truly lost to the Light. A wave of hopelessness swept over her, and she splashed slowly across the stream, not knowing where she was going, but unable to stop.
When day broke, she found a sheltered place, and dozed through the better part of the day. Another surprise awaited her when she woke - her stomach rumbled, unpleasantly empty. If I am dead, why do I need food? She spent some time foraging, thankful for her knowledge of plant life, and shivered under an ancient pine tree as she ate a sparse meal of roots and berries. As she ate, she wondered if she could still perish from the cold once winter began in earnest. Perhaps that would be best. I do not think I can exist as a creature of the Shadow. After the sun had set completely, she set out again, her eyes on the few stars that shone through the canopy of the trees. She remembered someone telling her a story once, about loved ones becoming stars in the sky after they died. I wish I was a star. The forest began to thin, and soon she found herself on the crest of a cliff that swept down into a grassy meadow. The view of the stars was unequalled, a glittering expanse of tiny jewels in the velvet darkness, so she sat crosslegged, and let her thoughts drift up into the beauty above her. She never saw the dark shape rise up behind her, only felt the pain as something struck her head, and saw the stars swirl and fade as she crumpled.
Melessendra slumped onto the wooden bench, closing her eyes for what seemed the first time in days. Several Brothers sprawled on stools or benches nearby, some snoring, some simply resting. The town hall was not well suited for living, but they had made do, using the smaller room to the side for themselves, and setting up the sick in the large meeting hall. Despite their best efforts, everyone who contracted the Plague had died. Still, they tried, but now some of the Brothers had come down with the terrible wasting disease.
A hand was gently shaking her shoulder, and she realized she must have dropped off. She looked up into the haggard eyes of Brother Taryn.
"He is asking for you, Mel," he said, his voice rough with grief and fatigue. There was no need for him to say who was asking; Melessendra rose stiffly, and headed for the meeting hall.
Brother Aldus lay on a pallet, his face ashen, his eyes closed. She knelt beside him and took his hand. His eyes fluttered open, and his gaze wandered the room until it found her.
"You must go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Go now, before it claims you too. We cannot fight it, but we have sworn an oath to aid the sick. You must go."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed his hand tightly. "No."
"You must!" He was shaking with the effort to talk, his face a rictus of pain. "There is so much more of your life to live, Melessendra! It is hopeless here; do not throw your life away!"
"I cannot!" she sobbed, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of a hand. "It is not throwing your life away to spend it caring for your family. I will do what I can for you until I can do nothing more."
A tear trickled down his cheek into his beard. "You are truly a Gift, child - the Light bless and Keep You - but if you do not heed me, the world will never know," he whispered faintly. He said nothing more, and she saw that his chest had ceased to rise and fall. Crying anew, she tried to Heal him, but as with the others, it did nothing. She knelt beside him until Brother Taryn came to fetch her, then fell onto her bench and into an exhausted sleep.
That night, many more died, and the next. Soon there were only a few of them left to burn the bodies, and the corpses began to pile up. Then, one night, she woke to screams. Those who had died had risen as monstrous creatures of the night, and the remaining Brothers lay bleeding on the ground. She tried to run, but there were too many, and they had armed themselves. She was brought down by swords and cudgels, and knew nothing more.
A terrible pain in her feet brought her to herself, and Melessendra opened her eyes wide as she cried out. She was bound to a stake, and at her feet lay a great pile of wood just beginning to crackle with flames.
"See how the Light destroys that which lies in Shadow!"
A tall man dressed in deep scarlet robes stood by the bonfire, addressing the crowd which had gathered around her. They all were dressed in the same red tabard, and they had come to watch her burn. They roared approval at the man's words, and the last of her hope faded. Perhaps they are right. I am a monster, a creature of darkness. This is for the best. The fire grew, and the pain grew to agony. She screamed, and the crowd howled again. The flames cast dark and terrible shadows on faces bright with hate and bloodlust, and she recoiled. They do not look like followers of the Light...the fire crept up toward her body; she could smell the sickly odour of burnt flesh, and hear the sizzle as the fire devoured her. She could not stop shrieking; tears ran down her face to hiss and disappear in the furnace that surrounded her. Light Bless and Keep Me.....commend my soul to Your embrace, amen....
A roar erupted among the onlookers, a roar not born of a human throat. A hulking shadowy shape split the crowd, whirling a great two-handed axe. The lusty cries of the crowd turned to screams of panic as the huge figure cut them down like stalks of wheat. Several of the men and women wore weapons themselves, and surrounded the attacker, blades flashing in the firelight. Others began to chant, hurling bolts of fire and ice from their hands. No single warrior could withstand so many foes, Melessendra thought hazily, on the edge of consciousness, but the axe continued to rise and fall until all of them lay dead. The figure lumbered toward her, snapping her bonds with a casual flick of his thick arms, and laid her down on soft, cool grass. He pulled out a canteen and soaked down her charred legs, then put a flask to her lips. The potion tasted sickly sweet, but within moments a blessed relief from the pain flowed downward until even her feet did not hurt.
She tried to speak, coughed, and tried again.
"Light Bless you, friend," she croaked, trying to see his face as her vision cleared.
"If if is the same Light these fiends worship, I do not want its blessing," the figure said in a deep, rumbling voice. Melessendra looked up into a nightmare face; not one like her own, but one out of story and legend. Green-skinned, with a muzzle full of sharp teeth, a brutish brow crowned with black hair.....an orc. I've been saved by one of the bloodthirsty Horde.
"But you are welcome," the orc added. Darkness descended again as she fainted.
Everything was darkness. She could smell the rich loam of fresh earth, feel the coolness of a summer evening, hear nothing but the enshrouding silence of a winter night, but around and within, above and below, there was the darkness. It enshrouded her, protected her, comforted her.
<SCRAPE>
The silence was broken, but the darkness remained. The darkness was her home, her comfort.
<SCRAPE>"....hello?"
The smell of fresh earth changed, to a foul, rotting smell, but the darkness remained. As long as she had the darkness, she was complete.
<SCRAPE>"Look, I know you're there. Get up!"
The coolness vanished in a rush of hot, humid, heavy air, but the darkness.....
"Dad blast it woman, wake up!"
The darkness was gone, and the light assaulted her.
Melessendra lurched upright, her head spinning, her heart in her throat. The brightness of the setting sun stabbed at her eyes.
"Hmph. About time too. What were ye plannin' te do, lie there forever?"
She looked up into a nightmare face. Glowing yellow eyes, skin a horrible bluish tinge....her gaze travelled down, to the hands clasping the shovel. Fingers that were simply bare bone, drumming impatiently on the wooden handle. Her mouth dried in terror, and she opened her mouth to scream, when she noticed her surroundings for the first time.
"Now, missy, don't fret," the undead said almost anxiously as he read the growing horror on her face. "I know it's a shock, wakin' up in a coffin, but ye're not the first, an' until things change, ye won't be the last."
Melessendra's eyes took in the dozens of graves that surrounded her, and the awful truth began to dawn. Slowly, she looked down at the tatters of her robe, and saw skin as blue as the apparition standing beside her. She held up trembling hands, and saw the gleam of bone. Light help me....
With a soul-rending shriek, she scrambled out of the grave, and ran.
"Lass, wait!" The call of the undertaker faded quickly into the distance as she ran, raw panic lending her strength. She tore out of the graveyard, and skidded to a halt.
It had once been a town, but now....everywhere she looked, faces with glowing eyes, or no eyes at all, regarded her. Some stood guard, some hawked their wares, some stood close together, deep in conversation. The Light has forsaken me.
"Hello Miss, would you be needing any supplies?" A vendor with black holes where his eyes once were sidled up to her, an ingratiating gap-toothed smile on his ruined face. She shook her head, and fled. Beyond the edge of the town she could see a forest in the dusky light, and she ran toward it. Suddenly a large figure loomed up before her, a figure with a large sword on his back.
"Now, don't be leaving just yet," said a corpse that once must have been a strapping young man. "It's not safe out there - "
With an agility born of desperation, she threw herself beneath his reaching arm, and ran harder. For a short while, he gave chase, shouting after her, but her feet had wings, and soon he fell behind. Soon she reached the border of the forest, and the shadows swallowed her as she wound her way into the underbrush. She ran, the branches scratching her face and snagging her hair, taking any path throught the trees she could find. A voice deep within said that running could not change what had happened, but she ignored it, pushing herself to keep going, to run faster. The sun had set by the time she staggered to a halt, and the only sound she could hear was her own ragged sobbing. Melessendra collapsed under a gnarled oak, and curled into a wretched ball, crying until she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Melessendra knelt in the soft soil, carefully weeding around the tiny emerging shoots that had just begun to feel the warmth of the sun.
"I see you wasted no time this year," a deep, kind voice said at her shoulder. She looked up into the smiling face of Brother Aldus.
"It's been warm," she said, smiling back. "I thought perhaps I could get a head start."
The old monk lowered himself carefully onto a nearby bench, wincing at the cold stone. "You have learned nearly all we can teach you about plants and herbs, child. You could easily start your own shop down in the town, you know."
She avoided his gaze, and went back to her weeding. "I'm very happy here, Brother."
The old man sighed. "Melessendra, you have been nothing but a Blessing to us since you came to us as a frightened little girl. You know that those who brought you feared your Gifts, not knowing what they were. Your training is as complete as your knowledge of herbalism; you could be a great boon to the outside world as a Healer. And your whole life is ahead of you; why would you want to spend it with a bunch of crusty old men?"
She looked up, eyes wide. "Because you are my family. You taught me about the Light, about myself. And you may need me as much as anyone out there."
Aldus regarded her soberly, stroking his sparse beard. He seemed about to say something more, but was interrupted by a hoarse call.
"Help! Please help!" A young lad came running through the front gate of the monastery, his eyes wild with terror. He dropped to his knees in front of Aldus, gasping for breath; the monastery lay on a hill overlooking the town, and Melessendra realized that he must have run the whole way.
Aldus' face was grave. "What is it, son?"
The boy's eyes rolled in his head like a spooked horse's. "They're sick, Father, they're all sick," he stopped as a sob caught in his throat, then pulled himself together once more. "My mum, my da, they're....I think they're dying.....the Reeve says it's the....it's the Plague."
Aldus stared down at the stricken youth for a long moment, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Melessendra felt her throat dry at the mention of the Plague, something she had only heard tell of in stories, but something that was always fatal. The Brother rose slowly, and placed a gentle hand on the shaking boy's shoulder.
"We will come," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. He glanced at Melessendra, his face grim. "Now we all have need of you, girl. Call the others and tell them we have work to do."
When she woke, it was still dark. She did not know how long she had slept, and did not care. Numbly, she stumbled to her feet, and pressed on, following a narrow trail through tightly packed trees and brush. No moonlight made its way through the undergrowth, and Melessendra suddenly realized that she should not be able to see, but the darkness was no hindrance to her new eyes. Dead eyes, but useful eyes. The trees began to grow larger as she walked, and further apart. Soon she came to a clearing, where the moon shone down unimpeded. It sparkled on a little brook that crossed her path, and she knelt down to drink. Why do I need to drink? she thought, confused. As she bent over the water, she caught sight of her reflection. It was every bit as ghastly as she had thought, the eyes glowing like demonic fire, the skin devoid of all warmth. I am truly lost to the Light. A wave of hopelessness swept over her, and she splashed slowly across the stream, not knowing where she was going, but unable to stop.
When day broke, she found a sheltered place, and dozed through the better part of the day. Another surprise awaited her when she woke - her stomach rumbled, unpleasantly empty. If I am dead, why do I need food? She spent some time foraging, thankful for her knowledge of plant life, and shivered under an ancient pine tree as she ate a sparse meal of roots and berries. As she ate, she wondered if she could still perish from the cold once winter began in earnest. Perhaps that would be best. I do not think I can exist as a creature of the Shadow. After the sun had set completely, she set out again, her eyes on the few stars that shone through the canopy of the trees. She remembered someone telling her a story once, about loved ones becoming stars in the sky after they died. I wish I was a star. The forest began to thin, and soon she found herself on the crest of a cliff that swept down into a grassy meadow. The view of the stars was unequalled, a glittering expanse of tiny jewels in the velvet darkness, so she sat crosslegged, and let her thoughts drift up into the beauty above her. She never saw the dark shape rise up behind her, only felt the pain as something struck her head, and saw the stars swirl and fade as she crumpled.
Melessendra slumped onto the wooden bench, closing her eyes for what seemed the first time in days. Several Brothers sprawled on stools or benches nearby, some snoring, some simply resting. The town hall was not well suited for living, but they had made do, using the smaller room to the side for themselves, and setting up the sick in the large meeting hall. Despite their best efforts, everyone who contracted the Plague had died. Still, they tried, but now some of the Brothers had come down with the terrible wasting disease.
A hand was gently shaking her shoulder, and she realized she must have dropped off. She looked up into the haggard eyes of Brother Taryn.
"He is asking for you, Mel," he said, his voice rough with grief and fatigue. There was no need for him to say who was asking; Melessendra rose stiffly, and headed for the meeting hall.
Brother Aldus lay on a pallet, his face ashen, his eyes closed. She knelt beside him and took his hand. His eyes fluttered open, and his gaze wandered the room until it found her.
"You must go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Go now, before it claims you too. We cannot fight it, but we have sworn an oath to aid the sick. You must go."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed his hand tightly. "No."
"You must!" He was shaking with the effort to talk, his face a rictus of pain. "There is so much more of your life to live, Melessendra! It is hopeless here; do not throw your life away!"
"I cannot!" she sobbed, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of a hand. "It is not throwing your life away to spend it caring for your family. I will do what I can for you until I can do nothing more."
A tear trickled down his cheek into his beard. "You are truly a Gift, child - the Light bless and Keep You - but if you do not heed me, the world will never know," he whispered faintly. He said nothing more, and she saw that his chest had ceased to rise and fall. Crying anew, she tried to Heal him, but as with the others, it did nothing. She knelt beside him until Brother Taryn came to fetch her, then fell onto her bench and into an exhausted sleep.
That night, many more died, and the next. Soon there were only a few of them left to burn the bodies, and the corpses began to pile up. Then, one night, she woke to screams. Those who had died had risen as monstrous creatures of the night, and the remaining Brothers lay bleeding on the ground. She tried to run, but there were too many, and they had armed themselves. She was brought down by swords and cudgels, and knew nothing more.
A terrible pain in her feet brought her to herself, and Melessendra opened her eyes wide as she cried out. She was bound to a stake, and at her feet lay a great pile of wood just beginning to crackle with flames.
"See how the Light destroys that which lies in Shadow!"
A tall man dressed in deep scarlet robes stood by the bonfire, addressing the crowd which had gathered around her. They all were dressed in the same red tabard, and they had come to watch her burn. They roared approval at the man's words, and the last of her hope faded. Perhaps they are right. I am a monster, a creature of darkness. This is for the best. The fire grew, and the pain grew to agony. She screamed, and the crowd howled again. The flames cast dark and terrible shadows on faces bright with hate and bloodlust, and she recoiled. They do not look like followers of the Light...the fire crept up toward her body; she could smell the sickly odour of burnt flesh, and hear the sizzle as the fire devoured her. She could not stop shrieking; tears ran down her face to hiss and disappear in the furnace that surrounded her. Light Bless and Keep Me.....commend my soul to Your embrace, amen....
A roar erupted among the onlookers, a roar not born of a human throat. A hulking shadowy shape split the crowd, whirling a great two-handed axe. The lusty cries of the crowd turned to screams of panic as the huge figure cut them down like stalks of wheat. Several of the men and women wore weapons themselves, and surrounded the attacker, blades flashing in the firelight. Others began to chant, hurling bolts of fire and ice from their hands. No single warrior could withstand so many foes, Melessendra thought hazily, on the edge of consciousness, but the axe continued to rise and fall until all of them lay dead. The figure lumbered toward her, snapping her bonds with a casual flick of his thick arms, and laid her down on soft, cool grass. He pulled out a canteen and soaked down her charred legs, then put a flask to her lips. The potion tasted sickly sweet, but within moments a blessed relief from the pain flowed downward until even her feet did not hurt.
She tried to speak, coughed, and tried again.
"Light Bless you, friend," she croaked, trying to see his face as her vision cleared.
"If if is the same Light these fiends worship, I do not want its blessing," the figure said in a deep, rumbling voice. Melessendra looked up into a nightmare face; not one like her own, but one out of story and legend. Green-skinned, with a muzzle full of sharp teeth, a brutish brow crowned with black hair.....an orc. I've been saved by one of the bloodthirsty Horde.
"But you are welcome," the orc added. Darkness descended again as she fainted.
