From: redurthornei@aol.com (Red ur Thorne I)
Date: 18 Sep 1999 13:31:32 EDT
He had separated from the shadows, a fragment of the past she held close and private. She sensed his presence before he made himself known to her, it was always that way with others of her kind. A type of dread would creep across her flesh, causing all her hair to stand on end whenever one was in her proximity.
She nearly lost her casual composure when his voice cut through the night to stop her dead in her tracks. "Dearest Gabriel, where do you hurry to?".
All the private denial that raced through her thoughts were murdered the moment she turned to face him. Unconsciously one hand shot toward the position her gun used to find it's home, he chuckled softly noting the gut reaction to him.
"Tsk, tsk, were we not old friends?", he stepped forward.
Red stood frozen to the spot, the colour draining from her cheeks as she tried to identify the noise that was blocking out the rest of the world.
"You were a hard one to track down, lassie.", he paced forward, "But now I am sure that I can finish the last of the Thorne clan without much of a problem."
As he moved into weapon's range the lamplight cast pale radiance across features so beautiful that one might be deceived into believing they were in the company of an angel. She stood transfixed to the spot as she realized the noise she was hearing was her own heart beating frantically.
Red awoke with a start, her body covered in a thin sheet of sweat, her heart beating too hard and fast for comfort. Her breath came in short gasps, the images of her nightmare clinging to her in an obstinate manner. The nightmare had the feel of reality, it was too vivid to be anything but a portent. But by all the Gods she wished the subject was not him, he had to be long deceased and buried.
"Oh, please, let it be anyone but him.", she whispered pleadingly to the air as she rose from her bed, sleep was not an option for the night with the memory of his unearthly face mocking her greatest pain and failure.
(Part I of II)
What Arts She Knows
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From: redurthornei@aol.com (Red ur Thorne I)
Date: 23 Sep 1999 15:43:44 EDT
I lie
I want
I start
I hestitate*
It had been days since her nightmare and yet she could still feel the terror reaching out from that realm of dark imaginings to infect her activities. She had spent the entire time in the Gallery, cowering like some frightened mouse after of it's own shadow.
She had too much time to listen to her own thoughts there and so she ventured out to find Avery. They had wagered on the Warlords' Tourney and Red viewed the results as they came out even and so they would both need to pay up.
Oh, but it had been so easy, too easy, to get him to sign a proverbial blank check for her. Avery had agreed to her terms before he knew what they entailed. Red might have felt guilty about abusing his naivete, if she were prone to such emotions.
She was sure that she could locate Avery by making a few inquiries at the Arena and so that's where she found herself. A few people were milling about but most seemed unwilling or simply without knowledge until she spotted Garion, one of the serving boys.
"Hallo, Miss Red. Sure I know where Sir Avery lives. I know where almost anyone lives or can find out!", the boy spoke confidently. "In fact, just yesterday I told your uncle where your new place was." Garion smiled broadly, his chest seeming to puff up with pride at his deed until he noticed the expression on Red's face.
I am
I breath
I melt
I think of me*
"Miss Red? Are you feeling a'right?", he took a step forward in case she was in need of his assistance.
Her knees nearly gave out on her when he said those words. Surely it was someone playing some trick on her, the Gods above knew she had her share of retribution coming.
"The man that named himself my uncle, what did he ook like, Garion?", her voice holding a note of unfamiliar uncertainty.
Garion blanched at the question, stammering out, "Miss Red, I did not mean to upset you or anything. That man seemed on the topside of things and he was so gentlemanly, I'd never seen a man so pretty before either."
Red cut him off there with her speech, "Pretty?".
"Oh! I am not one for Lords, you know, but he was the prettiest man I ever saw, he was, excepting that his eyes were so cold. I reckoned that he was a knight, for he had a mighty sword and his bearing bespoke the court, just like you.", Garion pointed at the ancient blade that was at rest in it's sheath across her back.
She drew in a deep breath, calming herself before she spoke. "Garion, are you sure the blade looked like mine?".
The boy nodded his head furiously, "Oh definitely. It had the same markings as yours. I remembered them from when you showed my yours not long ago."
She had indeed shown the boy her blade, always proud to demonstrate the skill of the man who crafted it for her so many years ago. Only six blades bore the markings that appeared on her hilt and four of them were buried with those that wielded them and the fifth was lost to the one that murdered the man for which it was made.
And now that murderer knew where she lived.
*Song by Smashing Pumkins
Date: 23 Sep 1999 15:43:44 EDT
I lie
I want
I start
I hestitate*
It had been days since her nightmare and yet she could still feel the terror reaching out from that realm of dark imaginings to infect her activities. She had spent the entire time in the Gallery, cowering like some frightened mouse after of it's own shadow.
She had too much time to listen to her own thoughts there and so she ventured out to find Avery. They had wagered on the Warlords' Tourney and Red viewed the results as they came out even and so they would both need to pay up.
Oh, but it had been so easy, too easy, to get him to sign a proverbial blank check for her. Avery had agreed to her terms before he knew what they entailed. Red might have felt guilty about abusing his naivete, if she were prone to such emotions.
She was sure that she could locate Avery by making a few inquiries at the Arena and so that's where she found herself. A few people were milling about but most seemed unwilling or simply without knowledge until she spotted Garion, one of the serving boys.
"Hallo, Miss Red. Sure I know where Sir Avery lives. I know where almost anyone lives or can find out!", the boy spoke confidently. "In fact, just yesterday I told your uncle where your new place was." Garion smiled broadly, his chest seeming to puff up with pride at his deed until he noticed the expression on Red's face.
I am
I breath
I melt
I think of me*
"Miss Red? Are you feeling a'right?", he took a step forward in case she was in need of his assistance.
Her knees nearly gave out on her when he said those words. Surely it was someone playing some trick on her, the Gods above knew she had her share of retribution coming.
"The man that named himself my uncle, what did he ook like, Garion?", her voice holding a note of unfamiliar uncertainty.
Garion blanched at the question, stammering out, "Miss Red, I did not mean to upset you or anything. That man seemed on the topside of things and he was so gentlemanly, I'd never seen a man so pretty before either."
Red cut him off there with her speech, "Pretty?".
"Oh! I am not one for Lords, you know, but he was the prettiest man I ever saw, he was, excepting that his eyes were so cold. I reckoned that he was a knight, for he had a mighty sword and his bearing bespoke the court, just like you.", Garion pointed at the ancient blade that was at rest in it's sheath across her back.
She drew in a deep breath, calming herself before she spoke. "Garion, are you sure the blade looked like mine?".
The boy nodded his head furiously, "Oh definitely. It had the same markings as yours. I remembered them from when you showed my yours not long ago."
She had indeed shown the boy her blade, always proud to demonstrate the skill of the man who crafted it for her so many years ago. Only six blades bore the markings that appeared on her hilt and four of them were buried with those that wielded them and the fifth was lost to the one that murdered the man for which it was made.
And now that murderer knew where she lived.
*Song by Smashing Pumkins
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From: cianirooks@aol.com (CianiRooks)
Date: 06 Oct 1999 16:04:13 EDT
Brush with a Friend
From the Diaries of Historian Ciani Rooks:
19th day of Luring, Year of the Yismith:
The day had started off pretty slow. I spent some time observing the patrons at the "Red Dragon Inn", not much of note occurred. I was contemplating moving on to my next town when Red ran into me, quite literally. She was at least a good head taller than I so it didn't damage my ego to nearly be bowled down by the collision.
She looked positively enraged, which was quite atypical behavior for the highlander. Oh, we had met several times before, but that has been chronicled in the Histories I am working on and entirely too long a discourse to recount here.
She made an abrupt apology and cursory greeting and speeded on her way. Intrigued by such uncharacteristic behavior I decided to investigate the matter of my old acquaintance. The only thing I could glean from the patrons of the Inn and the Arena was that another had been requesting information about Red as well in the past few days. I suspect this was why some were more than reluctant to part with any information concerning Red.
The small bit of information I discovered was enough to comprehend the disposition of the subject of my discourse. The description given to me of the man seeking Red's whereabouts could only be one person.
The first time I encountered Red was some time ago in the highlands named Rilian. Red was a different person then, but then considering her trials and tribulations, it was no wonder that her soul went through such transformations; more stories for other times.
The only pertinent thing to mention would be that the man that seeks Red out must be one Owen 'ur Hathgar. My first meeting with Owen is still crystal clear. I rarely pass judgment on any creature, let alone upon a first meeting but he forced me to construct an opinion on him swiftly.
He is much more than he appears, of that there is no doubt. Even with my own special talents he nearly defeated me. He attacked without reason, or if there was reason it was not a rational one. It was not born of defense or desire for any wealth, for it is always obvious that I possess none (except perhaps my blade).
His appearance is something that should be noted as well. I have never, in all my long years of traveling seen a humanoid who was as stunning as he. There was something eldritch about his features, though I would be hard pressed to pinpoint exactly what was the cause of that.
There have been consequent spotting of Owen, but little information has been gathered. One person informed me that Owen named himself a Hunter, although what his prey consisted of was unknown.
The pertinence of his identity lies solely within the fact that he was the one that organized the slaughter of the Clan Thorne. He was, in fact, the man that murdered Red, all those many years ago. (I use the phrase "murdered" here because Owen fully believed his stroke was a fatal one. Unbeknownst to him and I believe Red that was not a fatal blow to one of her kind-- See notes under sub-section "Immortals").
It's situations precisely like this one that test my vow to remain separate from the dealing of those around me. The life of a Historian is never simple, especially when you are born with my disability. I will, however, watch the unfolding of this chapter closely.
Date: 06 Oct 1999 16:04:13 EDT
Brush with a Friend
From the Diaries of Historian Ciani Rooks:
19th day of Luring, Year of the Yismith:
The day had started off pretty slow. I spent some time observing the patrons at the "Red Dragon Inn", not much of note occurred. I was contemplating moving on to my next town when Red ran into me, quite literally. She was at least a good head taller than I so it didn't damage my ego to nearly be bowled down by the collision.
She looked positively enraged, which was quite atypical behavior for the highlander. Oh, we had met several times before, but that has been chronicled in the Histories I am working on and entirely too long a discourse to recount here.
She made an abrupt apology and cursory greeting and speeded on her way. Intrigued by such uncharacteristic behavior I decided to investigate the matter of my old acquaintance. The only thing I could glean from the patrons of the Inn and the Arena was that another had been requesting information about Red as well in the past few days. I suspect this was why some were more than reluctant to part with any information concerning Red.
The small bit of information I discovered was enough to comprehend the disposition of the subject of my discourse. The description given to me of the man seeking Red's whereabouts could only be one person.
The first time I encountered Red was some time ago in the highlands named Rilian. Red was a different person then, but then considering her trials and tribulations, it was no wonder that her soul went through such transformations; more stories for other times.
The only pertinent thing to mention would be that the man that seeks Red out must be one Owen 'ur Hathgar. My first meeting with Owen is still crystal clear. I rarely pass judgment on any creature, let alone upon a first meeting but he forced me to construct an opinion on him swiftly.
He is much more than he appears, of that there is no doubt. Even with my own special talents he nearly defeated me. He attacked without reason, or if there was reason it was not a rational one. It was not born of defense or desire for any wealth, for it is always obvious that I possess none (except perhaps my blade).
His appearance is something that should be noted as well. I have never, in all my long years of traveling seen a humanoid who was as stunning as he. There was something eldritch about his features, though I would be hard pressed to pinpoint exactly what was the cause of that.
There have been consequent spotting of Owen, but little information has been gathered. One person informed me that Owen named himself a Hunter, although what his prey consisted of was unknown.
The pertinence of his identity lies solely within the fact that he was the one that organized the slaughter of the Clan Thorne. He was, in fact, the man that murdered Red, all those many years ago. (I use the phrase "murdered" here because Owen fully believed his stroke was a fatal one. Unbeknownst to him and I believe Red that was not a fatal blow to one of her kind-- See notes under sub-section "Immortals").
It's situations precisely like this one that test my vow to remain separate from the dealing of those around me. The life of a Historian is never simple, especially when you are born with my disability. I will, however, watch the unfolding of this chapter closely.
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From: owenurhathgar@aol.com (Owen ur Hathgar)
Date: 06 Oct 1999 21:27:17 EDT
The First Kill...
The first kill was the hardest they said. Owen didn't know who the hell "they" were but he was certain they were wrong. The first test had been one of his easiest, he had even warned them in an attempt to make the difficulty level higher. They had disappointed him tremendously, it became painfully obvious to him then that they could not have been his true parents.
When he discovered his true progenitors, he was positive they would be a superior challenge.
What had he been labeled? Too many names, and he rarely paid them heed for they were spoken by beings unable to grasp his goals. He was a hunter and that was all that mattered.
His latest prey confounded him slightly, he didn't let that linger. He had thought he ended her life long ago but apparently the beast didn't need her heart to function. Or perhaps she kept it hidden in another area of her chest, he had encountered a few who were not built as they appeared.
He would not be chased away from her this time until he was positive it was a corpse he was leaving behind. He would have her blade as well, the one he had taken from her father must have need of more than one for the magic to be unleashed. It was for that as much as his reputation that he would take her apart sinew by sinew.
Yes, he would have his prize and then he would investigate the rumors that the one other she beast that had escaped him was within this towns limits.
Owen turned the corner to proceed down the dark alley way, perhaps luck would smile upon him and some braggart would endeavor to engage him. They wouldn't last long, but it might amuse him while he waited for the beast named Christopher to give him a verbal map to the beast named Red.
Date: 06 Oct 1999 21:27:17 EDT
The First Kill...
The first kill was the hardest they said. Owen didn't know who the hell "they" were but he was certain they were wrong. The first test had been one of his easiest, he had even warned them in an attempt to make the difficulty level higher. They had disappointed him tremendously, it became painfully obvious to him then that they could not have been his true parents.
When he discovered his true progenitors, he was positive they would be a superior challenge.
What had he been labeled? Too many names, and he rarely paid them heed for they were spoken by beings unable to grasp his goals. He was a hunter and that was all that mattered.
His latest prey confounded him slightly, he didn't let that linger. He had thought he ended her life long ago but apparently the beast didn't need her heart to function. Or perhaps she kept it hidden in another area of her chest, he had encountered a few who were not built as they appeared.
He would not be chased away from her this time until he was positive it was a corpse he was leaving behind. He would have her blade as well, the one he had taken from her father must have need of more than one for the magic to be unleashed. It was for that as much as his reputation that he would take her apart sinew by sinew.
Yes, he would have his prize and then he would investigate the rumors that the one other she beast that had escaped him was within this towns limits.
Owen turned the corner to proceed down the dark alley way, perhaps luck would smile upon him and some braggart would endeavor to engage him. They wouldn't last long, but it might amuse him while he waited for the beast named Christopher to give him a verbal map to the beast named Red.