Lets try again shall we?
(had a long talk with WAnk in irc and we both agreed that we really liked where we were going with this, so we agreed to redo it after the "reset" button was pressed by Jing. Rather than WAnk posting his stufff again I've combined them in one post and neatened up the dialogue/grammmar/spelling a bit in an attempt to make it a bit more readable
NOTE (25/11/00): I've altered it slightly so I suggest you re-read it. My character is no longer regards gods with apathy... he's quite intrigued by them 
).
A few minutes later an armed company of men on horseback arrived, one man lightly dressed in leathers running ahead of them, peering intently at the ground.
"She went this way, we're about 5 minutes behind", the man whispered back to the horseman following him.
"Lead on", commanded the nearest horseman, "soon we'll have this murderesses head on a pole. That, a few executions and burning a few houses down should be enough to quell the general populace again".
As one the guards kicked their horses and followed the trail
__________________
Something was wrong.
The Gods were meddeling again.
Altering reality just enough to introduce an uncertainty factor.
That uncertainty factor had been enough to tilt the balance, albeit very briefly, but just long enough to allow
HIM to reach through the barriers to impose
HIS wishes on this world.
It had taken a vast concentration of his will to snap this timeline back to it's correct destiny, even he had almost been pulled into that other dimension.
If not for the intervention of some the gods he would have been lost.
That had suprised him.
Astepth'theroc
hated suprises.
Some of the gods had broken away from their eternal bickering and pursuit of their own satisfaction, to act in concert to help seal the breach in the weave.
Even some mortals had somehow - Astepth'theroc had no idea how - managed to alter the weave, help block
HIM long enough for the weave to repair itself.
"Maybe I have underestimated them......maybe..".
Asteph'theroc Draco swore, a word that had not been used in a millenia.
Some meant well ......others not, but they were still to young to understand the consequences of what they were doing.
They were creatures of belief, sustained by the believe of every prayer, veneration and act performed in there name. When a god lost all of its believers, it lost its higher consicouness, all its powers dispersing back into the mana weave, only to be re-emerge as another new god when belief swung back the other way.
In the beginning, before the mortals evolved, there were no gods, only the mana weave, the heart and lifeforce of the universe from which everything else has sprung.
"Mortal, immortal or divine, we are all still children of the weave", muttered the figure in the shadows.
Asteph'therocs' race had been one of the first born, born before the mortal races had arrived and created the gods. Some of those races had died out in wars whilst others had evolved and moved on.
One race, the closest to Asteph'theroc Dracos' own had sought power and in doing so, had lost themselves in their lust to have more, becoming what the mortals called shadowfiends.
Asteph'theroc Draco laughed a short bitter laugh. That had marked the turning point. Disrupting the weave to allow the emergence of
HIM, starting the chain of events that had led to the Great War.
The slaughter and imprisoning of his people.
But in doing this, what were to be later known as shadowfiends had doomed themselves. They had forgot that power is nothing without will and had become, over the years, a pathetic remenent of their once powerful race.
With a start Asteph'theroc Draco emerged from his meditation.
A horse, approaching rapidly from the nearby city, about two miles away he determined, listening carefully......and behind that, a large group of riders in hot pursuit.
Asteph'theroc Draco shifted slightly and peered at the crossroads where he knew they would converge.
Something must be done soon, to either convince the various panthenons to stop meddeling, or remove their ability to directly intervene temporarily.
Each time they acted, the quicker the restraints on
HIM were loosened.
Neither Asteph'theroc Draco, nor the rest of the world, were ready to withstand
HIS full power yet, more time was needed.....
Maybe some of these mortals gods could help keep the balance.....
Horses.
Asteph'theroc looked on as the woman edged her black mare into the concealment of the trees on the other side of the road, her hood pulled up concealing her features. Fifteen seconds later the group of riders arrived, reining in and stopping their horses in the centre of the crossroads.
"Come out pretty lady!" teased one of the armed men looking around warily.
Some type of city guard thought Asteph'theroc to himself.
Looking back over to where the thief was he saw her dismounted trying to keep her mare quite.
The mares in heat realised Asteph'theroc, and the majority of the men are riding stallions, she can't keep that mare quite for lon.....
The mare whinnyed a greeting.
All the heads of the men turned round in the direction of the sound, swords making a scrape as they came out of scabbards.
She can't take all of them, thought Asteph'theroc, not daggers against platemail.
The girl obviously thought otherwise, slapping her mare and sending her out of cover.
The knights heads swiveled after the mare but as soon as they realised noone was on the horse they snapped back to where the thief was....had been.....just in time for two of them to take a thrown blade in the face and a split second later another three to fall as their horses collapsed under him, disembowled as the thief had rolled under it just after retrieving her dagger from the head of the dead knight.
Crunch.
The thief went flying, having been caught out not realising that the men were on trained warhorses, one of which had kicked her as she was darting round to attack a man from his blindside.
With a crash the thief landed 10ft away from Asteph'theroc, her daggers out of reach and her ankle twisted painfully under her.
Just sprained realised Asteph'theroc, though it will probably feel like its broken, and a fractured rib.
Then Asteph'theroc Draco looked at her face.
Llaersil?!?!
What?
Looking again he realised that she was just a mortal, a human, but the resembalance was uncanny!
What can this mean he thought frantically to himself ..... is she meant to aid me in what I must do, what if she....
"Time to die pretty lady" sneered the man approaching her
"NO!"
Asteph'theroc Draco didn't realise he had shouted this until he saw both the thief and the guard turn round abruptly to look at him.
With a scream he called upon his powers, feeling the weave, letting it flow through him, altering it here, bending it there, bringing millions of myriad different forces together in perfect harmony, before encasing himself in its aura as he leapt from his hiding place, traveling faster than the mortal eye could see, swinging his sword.
The resulting sound echoed thorughout the forest.
"Ow!" yelped the woman, "Why did you go and have to do that for, I can hardly bloody hear now?". She looked at the discoloured smear on the ground, all that was left of her opponent, and then at the tall muscular elfling with the fierce golden eyes and alien, though striking, appearence.
She grinned suddenly, "I was going to stick him anyway", she said moving slightly and re-sheathing a hidden dagger that she had been concealing underneath.
"My name is Mirya by the way", she said, "now are you going to give me a hand getting up or not?"
What can this mean?!?!?
Asteph'theroc Dracos' thoughts churned wildly in his head as he tried to make sense of what was going on, why this happened, why this thief resembled someone lost long ago, his soulmate.
Asteph'theroc Draco blinked, quashing his doubts underneath his will.
This must have meant to be, maybe she will aid me, he thought to himself.
Extending his hand he took her proffered arm and helped her up, pulling one of the deads knights swords to him via his will for her to use as a crutch.
"My name is Asteph'theroc", he spoke, "and I believe we will be traveling together for a while".
"Where to?" questioned Mirya warily.
"The sea. It was foretold that the first one, the instrument of
HIS will, would come from over the sea."
"Is it dangerous?" asked Mirya, "might there even be a large amounts of gold, trade goods or precious items to.....ummmm... aquire?"
"Yes on both counts", Asteph'theroc replied confused.
"Sweet" grinned Mirya
"Excuse me", asked one of the previously forgotten guards with a sneer on his face, "sorry to interrupt your little union but she's under sentance of death and if you don't move out the way we'll kill you as well"
"For what reason?" Asteph'theroc asked, fixing his eyes on the nervous guard.
"Murder", growled another one.
"Justice" spat back Mirya from her position on the ground, "he was a murdering tyrant who butchered and stole from his own people. He deserved to die, me getting paid to do it was just a bonus"
"Enough!" shouted a guard, "she dies now, as will you.... charge them!"
Ten of the remaining guards leaped off their horses whilst the others wheeled theirs around and set their lances.
Asteph'theroc plucked at the weave again, creating a bend in TIME where he once again stepped outside it. Calling on his innate powers he started glowing gold, filled with his feelings, of rage at
HIM, with loss and bitter sadness over the fate of his people, filled with remorse at what he was now doing, but converting all that emotional energy into a weapon via the strength of his will as he set on the guards.
"Now I suggest you leave unless you want to end up like your companions", Asteph'theroc told the guard in front of him.
"What....", the guard looked round puzzeled, then blanched white. All that was left of his company were a few pools of blood, entrails and severed limbs, some still attached to the horses they had been riding via the stirups.
The guard ran.
with the aid of the sword Asteph'theroc had handed her, trying to keep her stomach from turning at the way all those men had suddenly just exploded, Mirya gingerly rose to her feet.
Determined not to show weakness before the strange man who had appeared out of the night, she tested her ankle and fell uncerimoniously into a heap of dark green cloth and leather onto the cold ground. Asteph'theroc leapt to her aid with a strange, almost concerned look on his face.
"You shouldn't attempt to walk on that ankle, it is a rather nasty sprain," Asteph'theroc said as he lifted her to her feet and offered his arm for support.
"Bah, it is nothing," Mirya mumbled, obviously wincing in pain.
With a resigned sigh she reluctently took his arm for support, she knew her ankle would give out again if she tried to put any weight on it, but hated having to rely on others.
She was impressed by the quiet strength this stranger held, if - she looked over to the remenants of the palace guard - not by his way of making a point.
"Fortunately we do not need to start our journey immediately. the evils we will be facing take little note of mortal beings conceptions of time. The earth will still turn if we spend a small amount of time to bandage you up," Asteph'theroc said in a mockingly serious tone.
Mirya laughed
"how nice of these unearthly evils to be so considerate of my needs. speaking of unearthly evils, where is that she-devil of horse i had the misfortune of stealing. if it hadn't been for her raging hormones, those guards would have never found us."
it was Asteph'theroc's turn to show a slight smile.
"I think you will find her over there, acquainting herself with one of those war horses. besides, she cannot be all evil, for if not for her "raging hormones" you and i would have never met."
An amused look came over Mirya's face
"Some how i sincerely doubt that." Mirya said, a slight smile forming at the edges of her lips.
"It was fated", replied Asteph'theroc, who then looked rather shocked that he had spoken what was meant to be a private thought aloud.
After an awkward silence, Asteph'theroc lead Mirya over to her horse. Mirya took hold of the pommel on the black mares saddle, handing the guard's sword back she had used as a crutch back to the elfling. He then took a few moments to give the two living warhorses a firm smack on the flank with the flat edge of the broadsword,and to retrieve Mirya's daggers before returning to her side.
She thanked hom, and quickly cleaned the blades on the horses saddle blanket before deftly returning them to various places beneath her cloak.
Asteph'theroc wondered with a small smile how many of these daggers she had hidden about her person. He was also fairly certain he would not like to be in a situation to figure this out.
He lead Mirya and the mare back to the small clearing he had been using as a temporary camp. He tied the horses reigns onto the same tree branch as his own horse, a beautiful blue roan stallion. the black mare knickered a greeting to the grey horse, which merely shook its head in annoyance.
Although he didn't really need a horse, Asteph'theroc travelled on one for the sake of ambiguity. A man travelling on horseback drew much less attention than a man travelling at inhuman speeds on foot. Besides, his horse had proven an interesting companion, if nothing else.
Before taking Asteph'theroc's arm for support again, Mirya took the mare's nose in her hand, and gave the horse a menacing stare.
"you and i are going to have a long talk tomorrow, missy," Mirya said in a stern voice. The horse flickered its ears, bobbed its head, and almost managed to look embarassed. The elfling watched this strange conversation in amusement, his smile fading as Mirya turned her glare upon him.
"Don't look at me, I am not the one chasing down strange male horses," Asteph'theroc responded
Mirya grinned in response, cheerfully taking her new travel companions arm again.
"i think you and i are going to get along just fine, my dear fellow."
Asteph'theroc chuckled as he led her to the tree he had been using to ponder the quest ahead of him before Mirya had unexpectedly burst into the roadside before him. She greatfully lowered herself off her feet, and gave the elfling a thankful look. he responded to her look with a happy smile, and went to work taking off the mares saddle and blanket. when he was finished, he walked to his own saddlebags and produced a linen bandage. Squatting before her, Asteph'theroc carefully worked Mirya's soft leather boot off of her injured ankle. Mirya grimmaced slightly, but in all was taking the pain better than he had expected. despite her feminine form, she was a surprisingly tough woman. as he bandaged the thief's ankle, Asteph'theroc made idle small talk.
"I am sorry, but i do not have a bedroll or anything for tonight."
Mirya gave the elfling a bemused look. "that is quite alright, i have grown accustomed to travelling without such luxuries."
"as have i, travelling light does have its advantages," Asteph'theroc said in a knowing tone. "There we are, all bandaged up. That should remove some of the mobility, at least. It should be better before you know it."
"Gods willing" muttered Mirya,
Asteph'theroc started at that phrase, reaching out and holding her chin whilst staring fiercly into her slightly startled eyes.
"Belief can be a powerful thing", Asteph'theroc spoke firmly to Mirya .
"It is what defines what you call gods, gives them there powers. Disbelief works the same way. Cursing a gods name benefits it as much as a prayer to it will".
"To me the gods mean nothing, I walked this world with my people and many others, before they existed , before they were born out of the mana weave, their parents mortal minds beliefs".
Asteph'theroc paused briefly, his mind considering the possibility that he no longer belived that in light of there recent aid in fighting back
HIM, before continuing.
"Subjective reality is the closest you can get to it in normal terms. I do not believe....nor do I disbelive in them, therefore they can have no effect on me. The only way they might inconvience me ... slightly..... is via there mortal followers. If we accomplish our mission, or ...", he paused briefly, then continued with a wry grin,"Gods Willing, we manage to convince them to stop taking a direct hand, we will not have to worry about them interceding with their faithfull for a short while. If the mortal races are to survive what is coming, the only way they can do it is beliving in themselves."
Asteph'theroc paused then, staring at Miryas face.
"What!" exclaimed Mirya, sort of freaked out by the intensity of his fiery golden eyes, as well as his rather theological speech, "it's just a saying".
Asteph'theroc blinked.
"Sorry.... you just remind me of someone from long ago."
Mirya grinned.
"I'll roll you for first watch", she said, changing the subject and producing a couple of dice out of a pouch, "high roll gets first watch".
"Agreed", siad Asteph'theroc, a tiny hint of a smile appearing for a fraction of a second, before his face resumed it's normal unreadable mask.
Mirya rolled first. "Two fives", she grinned, before picking up the dice and swiftly switching them for her low rolling set as she passed them to him, "now you roll....HEY!"
"What", asked Asteph'theroc, "I just rolled a five and a six, I get first watch............ is there a problem?"
Mirya grimaced, she knew he must of cheated somehow, but the only reason she knew was because the dice he now had should have rolled a two and a three. She couldn't argue that one, no matter how good she was at bluffing.
"Ok I get second", she muttered, curling up by the small enclosed fire that Asteph'theroc had got going a few minutes earlier.
"Make sure you wake me", she muttered, glaring at Asteph'theroc.
Mirya hated second watch, you were always shattered by early evening the next day.
"Of course", Asteph'theroc muttered leaning forward, touching her forehead gently, "I won't".
Asteph'theroc pulled his hand back from the now sleeping Mirya. The acceleration he had placed on her natural healing process would last the night and when she woke from her ensorcelled sleep she would also most be as good as new, though she might still feel slight bruising around her ribs.
"Sleep well little one, I have no need", whispered Asteph'theroc, settling his back against a tree, his sword unsheathed across his knees, his eyes fixed on Mirya, awaiting the coming of dawn.
[Edited by RumpleForeskin|PuF on November 25th, 2000 at 04:44 PM]
