At night's passing

[DoS Archive]

From: moyrloch@aol.com (Moyrloch)
Date: 09 Apr 2003 15:05:07 EDT

Life was good it seemed. House was fixed, new job, injuries healed, magic returned, curse broken. He’d even gotten to know several people as "friend". One in particular, he mused to himself. He could even manage retraining himself, as long as he confined it to one or two emotions at a time, and didn’t think about it too hard. "’Ellfire", he thought to himself, "’ve e’en managed t’ pick up a new way o’ figh’in’." Yes, life was good. But, as he took his self-proscribed "medicine" to cure the dreams, he didn’t feel quite right. There was that niggling little doubt, that core of uncertainty deep within him. That little twinge, telling him not all was right in his world. He pondered that as he lay down, beginning to feel the effects of his "medicine". His last conscious thought before sleep rolled over him like a landslide was that he’d thought he’d heard something. . .

A while later, as he lay in blissful slumber, a sound came from across the room. He’d have barely heard it even if he were awake. over on the chair, deep inside the cloak, right around where he kept his weapons, there was the faint sound of laughter. Not the playful glee that emanates from a child with a new toy, nor the silly giggling of a young couple in love. No, this laughter was cold and malevolent in nature. And had he been aware, he’d have been deathly afraid, for it seemed to be coming from his sword. . .

To all those who have gone before, my thanks.



Tarynthryn Moyrlochlon Silverwing.