A Soul for a Soul

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Joined: Fri Feb 02, 2001 6:01 am

A Soul for a Soul

Postby Nilan » Tue Oct 07, 2003 7:47 pm

Hi guys,

This is a tale that was so very hard for me to put to words. Much feeling exists behind each and every word. Life is challenging but Love is even more so.

And thanks all for helping and roleplaying with me. Each day is an adventure in character developement. I eagerly embrace what lies in the future. Looking forward to the challenge.

This tale i dedicate to my loving wife Elisten and my Abbil Deshana.

I love you




Nilan remained kneeling eyes cast downward in respect as shadows swirled about him growing thicker which each passing moment. The assassin sensed the growing anger lingering in the musty air of the darkened temple. He dare not raise his gaze even as a form coalesced before him.

“Stand Up!!!” boomed the voice of the immense Shadowed Lord. “You are tainted, Chosen.”

Nilan slowly rose to his feet, his eyes lowered in respect for his God that took form before him. “Tainted?” The assassin dared to raise his eyes.

The Shadowed Lord encircled his Chosen as he spoke, his voice a cold whisper. “You have been touched by my bitch sister’s smell! Can you not feel the sickening taint, the weakness upon your soul?”

Nilan did not flinch at the words but boldly replied, “I assure you, Vhaeraun, my allegiance is yours, the path I walk is yours.” His mind drifted to thoughts of his beautiful elven wife, Elisten and the one called Deshana who had become his sister, friend and lover. He buried the thoughts deep, hoping they were not detected.

Vhaeraun whirled on the drow assassin, his immense shadowed form engulfing the room. “Your path is mine, your allegiance is mine, but her taint is within you!! Either you are mine or you are not…Make your choice, Velg’larn.”

Nilan felt the words slam into his chest. The drow people, the ones he had fought for, the future….a drow nation without Lloth’s tyranny, place on the surface again…and a place where he could be with Elisten and Deshana, freely without being hunted. Vhaeraun’s path could accomplish all of those things and more. It would be a great victory for the drow nation currently ensnared in Lloth’s great web. Nilan tore himself away from his thoughts and boldly stepped forward, palms up in surrender. Bowing low the assassin gazed into the dark eyes of his God. “I am yours, Vhaeraun. I always have been.”

“Kneel!!” the divine Shadow whispered as he raised his hands before him. “It is such a small part of your soul Chosen. This will only hurt a little bit.” He grinned coldly as the assassin knelt before him. He marveled at this one’s pride, so bold, so unafraid…so unflinching as he held a blackened blade above him.

Nilan gazed up at the shadowed form of Vhaeraun looming over him. Refusing to turn away he held his kneeling position. His hands gripped in tight fists as he closed his eyes tightly. Though the assassin did not see the thrust, he felt the blackened blade tear into his chest. Crying out in sudden agony he couldn’t suppress, Nilan felt himself falling but the wicked blade still within his chest held him in his kneeling position. Vhaeraun grinned evilly as a sudden light pulsed from his arm, coursing through the blade causing the assassin to shudder violently as the impaled blade did its work. Writhing in pain, Nilan gasped aloud, as a treasured part of his heart was cleaved, and left trembling and dying inside him.

Vhaeraun held the blade in place and watched as his Chosen weakened, his violent shuddering slowly dissipating. Gasping, Nilan gazed up at his god with pain filled eyes, his hand helplessly gripping at the blade thrust deep within his chest.

Vhaeraun smiled coldly, “You will be free of the taint of my sister.” Bending low the Masked Lord whispered, “Be certain that your lover sacrifices her path for ours, my Chosen. It seems you have two hearts to tame with that dagger.”

Nilan looked up into his god’s eyes. For a moment the two held each other’s gaze, but a vicious twist from Vhaeraun tore the blackened blade free. Nilan failed to stifle a cry and reached out with both hands catching his falling body.

Vhaeraun folded his arms before him eyeing his Chosen. “Do you understand?”

Nilan clutched his chest and looked up nodding stoically. Vhaeraun smiled, his hand reaching down to rest upon his Chosen’s shoulder. “You will not wish for me to visit my vengeance upon her.”

“Your destiny, your path will be fulfilled, my lord. You need not harm her, …or my wife.” Nilan proudly eyed the altar, his hand resting upon the hilt of “Shadow”.

Vhaeraun smiled, his fingers stroking the assassin’s cheek, gently, almost tenderly. “Do you understand?” When the assassin nodded, the Masked Lord continued, “Fail me again, chosen and it shall be your hand or her soul.”

Nilan glanced up suddenly his eyes narrowing. “Fail you? How have I failed you? I have followed the path.”

Vhaeraun’s eyes flashed angrily. “Do not hide a portion of a divided soul in your heart again! Do not presume to allow my sister’s taint to touch you. You are MINE, chosen. Don’t let her sully my possession again!” Grinning suddenly he placed his hands around the assassin’s throat, squeezing in a promise. “Use your tools, as I use mine. Walk my path, cleanse your people!”

Nilan gasped, his breath uneven, as Vhaeraun’s hand tightened around him. Grinning coldly to emphasize the point, Vhaeraun shoved the drow backwards before releasing him.


Nilan recalled that night as if it had been just yesterday. But now it played vividly over and over in his mind. He thought of his elven wife Elisten, who remained safe within her walled city. Though they hadn’t touched or shared one embrace in many years, the assassin still dreamt of her at night. He loved her very much. And then there was Deshana, the beautiful druid that had become friend, sister, and lover. The two had found much comfort in each other arms. Her words, spoken to him in the forest of Mir, had been like a warning beacon to him. “You have angered him in’she’lenya, he came to me in a vision, he is angered at your failure in the Skelenach Mountains.”

Nilan tried to make light of the words she had spoken, but in truth he knew what was in store for him. Boldly he entered the temple, kneeling at the altar. Muttering a prayer, the assassin waited….

The High Priest of Vhaeraun entered the room, scowling as he approached the reverent drow. “What is it you seek, Velg’larn?’

Nilan glanced up, looking deep into the cold eyes of the High Priest. “I have failed, I am here for forgiveness and to accept what is due me. I wish to speak to Him,” was all the assassin said before he lowered his gaze once again.

“Then you shall,” came the chilling reply.

The High Priest donned the jet-black mask of Vhaeraun, raising his hands he chanted calling forth the shadows. Nilan looked up, his vision blurred as shadows began to swirl about the High Priest in a thick black cloak. Darkness flowed evenly over the body of the High Priest until the transformation was complete. The Masked Lord had arrived.


“My lord,” Nilan stated, unflinching as he gazed up at Vhaeraun. The assassin started to speak, but Vhaeraun raised a dark hand silencing him.

“You have presumed much of late, Velg’larn. Presumed to know my will and what is meant to be. Your failure at Skelenach is but an instance. That mission was but a test put to you and you nearly failed by attempting to destroy the being,” the Masked Lord sneered, his form moving to loom over his reverent Chosen. “Thank your pathetic brother for more than your life, but for the continued existence of our soul.”

Reaching down, Vhaeraun angrily placed a shadowed hand around the assassin’s throat forcing him to look upon him before continuing, “You would not like becoming a drider in the service of my Mother.”

Nilan shivered at the thought. Death in any form would be more pleasant than that fate. He groaned shaking the eerie thought from his addled mind. He thought of Elisten. Surely she was safe in her walled city. And then of Deshana and her warning “You have angered him in’she’lenya…”

The Masked Lord glared angrily, “You have failed because you allow your heart to interfere. You continue to waste your time on my sister’s pets. The cat will not follow me.” Vhaeraun paused allowing the words to hit home. “Yet another task you have failed. You heart weakens your soul, Velg’larn. Your people depend upon your action.”

Nilan spread his hands open wide before him. He lowered his gaze as he spoke. “I beg forgiveness. I only did what I thought best for the people. I accept the consequences of that, whatever they might be.”

Vhaeraun smiled coldly before pulling the drow to his feet. “Then you remember the words we last spoke and the consequences of failure.”

Nilan stoically held Vhaeraun’s gaze as the shadowed figure whispered the once spoken words. “Fail me again, Chosen and it shall be your hand or her soul.”

“Do not take vengeance upon my wife or Deshana. They are not the weakness…love is. My touch is a curse. My love is a curse. If my soul is weak, then I shall forsake what is called love. I had asked for her hand in union, I shall not take it.” Nilan stammered the words from his dry throat.

There were others he longed to say but these he said in silence instead. “In loving you I doom you, and thus because I love you so much, I do the only thing I can to keep your soul safe. Forgive me.”

Nilan glanced up at the Masked Lord and bowed low before speaking. “I will not take it. Drow were never meant to love. Her soul is her own, you have my hand.” With that he extended his right hand, willingly, without flinching.

Shadows swirled suddenly, faster and faster about the room. The assassin fought the growing dizziness and kept his eyes focused on the Divine form before him. A voice boomed loudly throughout the temple, shaking its very foundation. Nilan staggered but managed to keep his feet. An icy grip clamped down upon his wrist and a voice seared into his soul. Nilan did not pull away but held his footing.

The voice roared in satisfaction, “You hand or her soul, the choice is made!!” Silence settled for a brief moment, but only brief. The only cry heard was one that was torn from the assassin’s throat. A cry of intense agony as a sudden shiver of pain coursed through Nilan’s wrist, dropping the proud male to his knees. Sparks flashed around his wrist, coursing painfully up his arm. The assassin clenched his teeth but could not stifle his cries. Shadows slowly dissipated and Nilan’s breath came in ragged gasps as the pain subsided. A final shiver ran through him and seemed to settle on his right wrist. Nilan focused his eyes upon his wrist still held tightly in Vhaeraun’s grasp. It seemed marked and somehow felt more substantial then before.

Vhaeraun tugged at the assassin’s hand to keep the drow from drifting into unconsciousness. “It is done.” Nilan weakly focused on his God. His other hand reached across his waist to stroke the hilt of the blade called “Shadow”. The Masked Lord smiled, but then gave another quick tug bring the drifting man back to consciousness. “The people depend on you, Velg’larn. Do what you must to see this path through. Fail me and your hand may be the only thing you do not lose.” With that Vhaeraun released his grip upon his Chosen and watched in satisfaction as the drow crumbled to the temple floor unconscious.

Shadows engulfed the room once more leaving only the High Priest leaning upon the blackened altar…exhausted.
Posts: 479
Joined: Mon Jul 07, 2003 10:00 pm
Location: Ixarkon

Postby mynazzaraxxsyn » Fri Oct 10, 2003 1:01 pm

Very good Nilan. Glad to hear Vhaeraun has upgraded his view of me to pathetic :twisted: maybe if i keep saving your hide he'll start to like me.
Lilithelle stops using a softly throbbing piece of flesh.
Gura group-says 'ill go solo the biznatch, just don't tell Stamm'
Kossuth responds to your petition with 'is it bad that the two words i think of when i see yer title are hottub and cthulhu? :('

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