The Black Hand of Fate - Arilin's Gift

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Grunelda
Sojourner
Posts: 47
Joined: Sat Sep 07, 2002 5:01 am

The Black Hand of Fate - Arilin's Gift

Postby Grunelda » Tue Jan 11, 2005 10:40 pm

When I started here Arilin took me under his wing. A great friend and Mud teacher.

Originally I was going to write a 10 part series about our adventures, but RL jumped in and changed that.

Recently I hit 50 for the second time, to celebrate I finished the end story.

These stories are dedicated to Arilin!


Please refer to the below links for references to this final story:

http://www.torilmud.org/phpBB2/viewtopi ... highlight=
http://www.torilmud.org/phpBB2/viewtopi ... highlight=
http://www.torilmud.org/phpBB2/viewtopi ... highlight=


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THE BLACK HAND OF FATE - ARILIN'S GIFT


Bright glowing tendrils of translucent blue trailed Ratty Jack's movements as he passed through the sleeping body of a homeless young boy. The boy rolled and let out a low moan in his sleep, a nightmare racing through his mind.

It had been so many nights and so many dreams ago that Ratty Jack no longer could remeber when he first gained the power to see the translucent souls of the living. But he knew with every tendril of his black malice filled being that he hated the light, the pulsing cloud of hope that filled all living mens hearts.

One hundred years earlier Jack's soul was stolen in a dirty nameless alley in the City of Waterdeep. Now his soul was the focus of power in which his Master and Tormentor controlled Ratty Jack's maleovent being. Clutching at the tendrils with black hands of negative energy Jack tried to grasp the tendrils that trailed his passing - attempting to steal a bit of the boys mortal soul. Deftly knotting but a fraction in a strange and dense knot. A knot gleaned over countless nights and countless dreams, tied and bound by hate, by malice it was a creation that only Jack a ghost that had witnessed years of Necromantic magic could fathom.

Stuffing the tiny complex creation deep into the dark smokey center of his being he flew back to the Hag's lair. Red hateful eyes flared like twin corona's are Jack cackled, "Some night Bitch, Bitch Princess I will be free!"

Time had no hold on the ghost, for the world of the tormented was far different than that of living. No light, no hope. Jealously, hate and murderous intent were the only feelings one might garner. Only the strongest held any intelligence from thier prior life. Jack spread his hate upwards and focused it with practice ease, as one of the living would thier petty vision. Above the burnt and ruined city of Bloodstone was a grey and black maelstom of activity. A Cloud of furious spirits, like thick oily smoke covering the sky. Mindlessly wailing and racing around the boundries of thier torment - invisible to the living eye.

The Hag and Ratty Jack had searched for her Master in and around Waterdeep for 40 yrs before moving to Bloodstone. Master Grunelda had found a dozen trails in that time and followed them all to thier conclusions, forcing Ratty Jack to do her bidding each time.

Time was her strength.

Time was her ally.

Even with her majics and skills, her time was running out after a hundred years. "Soon SOON!", ranted the Ghost. Flying ever higher to meet the maelstom above.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Desperation was a thing that Grunelda had never shown openly.

"Impossible!", screeched the Necromancer as the spell of Rejuvantion failed for a second time.

Turning to a small mirror on the wall she examined the lines creasing her face, the deep lines of unhappy life without redemption. Lines of a long held frown were like a road map of failure to her eyes.

"Bloodstone stands in burnt ruins, all trails have run dry, after One Hundred years Arilin is still lost to me." Grunelda knew that time had caught up with her. All things even with the aid of the blackest of magic had a end. Hers was just a short counting away now.

Throwing herself into a plush chair of silks and furs, she lost herself in thought, "Something, Something to beat Time!" she mumbled.

It had been so many long painful years since her quest began. Since its inception the Elders of Netheril had thwarted her attempts to gather thier information on thier secret society. But through her spells she had out lasted and out lived thier founders. Two Generations of people she had watched live and die in Waterdeep as she searched Arilins copious papers and notes. A dozen trails. Trips to the Underdark, to the doorstep of pale dwarven kings. To the jungles of remote islands and the lands of the Yuan-Ti she had travelled. Each trip yielded information, yet no Arilin. She had killed so many times, taken the loves of obstacles, of scholars of leaders of men in her quest. The information grew with each. But no Arilin.

And then.

And then she lost the will to quest, to rescue her master... or record his death.

To Bloodstone she ran. A city where those without conscience could live well, and untouched. She tried to have a normal life, to fall in love and marry. It all felt horribly wrong, askew. Even when Grunelda had a child it did not feel aligned with her spirit and soul. The husband was disposed of eventually, and the child. "Is not my concern." she said as she left it at the doorstep of the Bloodstone orphanage.

For the briefest moment, Grunelda saw the small pink face of her daughter - a moment lost in madness.

It was during this breakdown in the Quest that Grunelda had the inspiration to began what her minion Ratty Jack had dubbed the "plan".

No more running through jungles, or wandering the realms for clues. Grunelda would build a power base so large that the tendrils of her power would wander the realms searching out news, history even the bones of Arilin.

Sixty years ago Grunelda had returned to her old alias of the Hag.

Having Married into wealth it was not long before her in-laws, one by one had disappeared - leaving her with thier amassed fortune.

Year after year she had insuinated herself, her minions her mercenaries into the politics of mighty Bloodstone. Becoming a player in the dark shadowy world of the politics behind the throne of the City Kingdom.

With the help of Necromantic magic she out lived generations of the cities leaders and had begun to think of herself as the Princess of Bloodstone.

Year after year she spent lavishly sending scholars, adventurers, and undead minions out into the world to search for Arilin - as she increasingly became more of recluse. Under the guise of consolidating power.

The rewards for her efforts rolled in on the wings of those sent so capriciously. She took the rewards of information, magical items of stories no matter how impossible - then dispatched the bearer into lifeless torment. Hiding her lifelong focus from prying eyes.

She had been close to Arilin in those Sixty years but 5 times, and each time it was like grasping at the apparition in a dream.

"I have out lived the City of Bloodstone!" she thought. Outside her blackened window the burnt and rugged landscape of the city spewed forth smoke and the stench of the dead.

"And yet," scanning the room - her vision hesitating of the Dagger of oblivion, rings of ancient power and the original Books of Arilin, settled amongst a grand ballroom filled with majics, tomes and long sough after scrolls.

"With all this magic, all this lost knowledge - I can no longer fight the age setting into by bones."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ratty Jack swirled amongst the vapors of undead life above Bloodstone. A mighty cloud of the cities once living inhabitants. Reduced to ash far below, but still tied in torment and pain above. The city had been a stronghold of evil greedy men before its fall. Those that traded thier souls for wealth now had ties to thier mortal plane that were unbreakable.

Yet Jack cavorted amongst them with realative ease. For his chains were to the Bitch Princess. The fooking whore that had stolen his life and held his immortal soul hostage. The Bitch that had, over the course of time given Ratty Jack more and more freedom! "Freedom!", cackled Jack to the maelstom.

Time had no meaning to Jack.

"O my Princess, no spells need I! for you gave me the hated gift of undead immortality!"

"This power you have used against mortals, I shall use agains thee!"

Pulling the dense majical knot of souls from the densest place of his being, Jack held it high in the swirling maelstrom and screamed, "Revenge!"

Like red-eyed Jackals hungry and on the hunt, thousands of nebulous undead wraiths formed around Jack, grew more solid and helplessly surged toward the knot of translucent blue.

Carefully biding his time Ratty jack waited until the last second, the moment before the tidal wave of undead reached thier glowing goal, and then pushed the knot into his chest deep - screaming in pain as the object so foriegn to the undead surged with bright light. Sucking the torrent of wraiths into his being by the hundreds like a malice filled black hole at the edge of unknown universe.

With the mighty influx of negative power, Jack screamed as the majical globe drew in wraith after wraith. Feeling the smokey tendrils of his being start to stretch and expand in size until he could sense his very self was about to rended to nothingness.

Suddenly his ghost form snapped back with such power that for the first time in One hundered years Ratty Jack felt solid. So very solid that he began to fall from the maelstom to the ground below.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As night began to fall, Grunelda recieved word a young woman that had words of power for the Shadow Princess of Bloodstone.

If this word had actually reached her, the woman had to pass the halls of a dozen of lesser necromancer, of scholars and guardians that would check every word for veracity.

Perusing the note one last time, Grunelda turned to the hall page and said, "I will recieve the woman." then set the note to candle and began to set it afire.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Amelie was terrified beyond words. It had been three days in these halls without so much as a hours sleep in succession or a bowl of porridge between interrogations. She had lost track of who was speaking to her and what questions were asked. She just attempted to hold onto the roots of what she had learned.

The guard that now pushed her down a long hall, dusty dark and dirty was dressed in a full suit of platemail. No glimpse of the man in the armor was visible - only a occsional low moan escaped the helm. Shuffling down the enormous hall Amelie wondered if the guard was but a apparition of a mind clouded by lack of sleep and hunger.

At the end of the hall stood a large book on a ornate brass stand about chest high.

Unceremonioulsy the guard pushed her towards the stand and the huge basalt doors beyond.

Her knees weakened as she passed the book, she could not read - being too poor and homeless on the streets of Old Bloodstone did not lead to the kind of life that led to education.

The gigantic doors were pitch black stone, cold and hard. Like the man that had appeared in her alley hideway three nights before.

Her alley was always safe before, through a fallen and caved in wall she had discovered a burrow long ago. It opened out into a small room still intact in the lower end of well built home. It was strong and hard to find. A good hiding place till the day her came.

Amelie lost herself in delirium as she attempted one more time to stand before the doors...

She had felt the man enter her alley, the prescence of men was nothing new to Amelie. She had sold her body out of necessity when it was needed. Although she did not consider herself a whore like many of the women that sold themselves on the now barren streets of Bloodstone. Amelie had done that deed for survival, the others harbored some self hate. This man however was far different that those that she had expereinced before. He stuck to the shadows, and the shadows clung to him as he walked fearlessly down the night filled walkway.

Amelie attempted to get a good look at the man to access the danger from her hiding place when she heard his voice.

"My young one, come from your hidey hole and address me - for after watching your plight I have come to offer you solace and comfort for the night."

Amelie shivered in response.

The mans voice was cold and hollow like the rasping rattle before one died of the lung plague.

As if that was not enough to instill fear in ones heart his choice of words brought forth distrust in her heart. "Comfort and Solace" she had heard from men before, as their dirty greasy hands had rummaged through her bodice, and thier fetid mouths and bit her neck and breasts.

"I am not free for a calling at this time!" called Amelie to the stranger, hoping her voice would echo through the stone confusing the apparition of a man.

"My body is not forsale this night, and any attempt at rape will be met with flight!" cried the girl.

"Awww the reason for my choosing. The last honest soul in all of Bloodstone." laughed the man.

"Its that honesty I require young lady."

"For all in Bloodstone know the Shadow Princess gives only one audience in trade for information and payment."

"And that sole privledge I have spent in my lifetime."

"I need your honesty so I might still garner a certain wealth from the Princess, for that I am willing to share a small percentage - enough for a young one to flee this forsaken city."

Amelie hated the voice in the darkness. It tore at her ears and made her heart grow cold as winters ice. But the temptation was too great. She had survived in this city on her own after being let out on the streets too long ago to remember. To end this living nightmare was worth any chance.

Amelie cried out in low tones, "What do I need to do?"

For a brief moment Amelie imagined that the shadows deepened and grew darker as the man laughed.

"This is what we shall do my Amelie.", said the man still muffling his laughter.

He then proceeded to outline a plan to pass on information that Amelie found without merit but the man assured her was invaluable - that the minds and spirits of thousands had harboured and saved for only him.

Each time she tried to come closer to the man, he faded back into the shadows seeming to grow insubstantial - until she gave up trying.

Finally he was silent, and asked Amelie to repeat the information back twice more.

At the end of the second recitation - Amelie felt as if she was alone in the cold blackness of the alley once again.

Cold and black like the gigantic Basalt doors before her.

As she finally regained her feet the left door began to open. Layers of dust along its uppermost edge broke loose and fell to the floor like fine grey smoke. The warm light of a fire beyond flickered through the doorway, as Amelie heard, "Enter"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Grunelda had always hated the fact that in the process of dying the undead she raised as minions lost part of thier memory or intelligent. Killing someone out right and raising them into her service was not always a prudent way of gathering information. It was the path of last resort. Even though listening to most people speak was irritating to Grunelda.

The Basalt doors to her sanctuary opened on thier own accord as she approached them for the first time in nearly a decade. With little emotion in her voice other than irritation she beckoned, "Enter" to whomever was beyond.

Grunelda was ready for the meeting, having taken the form of the Hag once again. She looked inhumanly old and decrepit - in fact she was well protected by ancient magics and spells well studied and learned.

A woman slight in frame entered and followed Grunelda as she hobbled closer to the fire. Leaning on a gnarled walking stick she rudely asked the womans name.

"Amelie." responded the woman. The name had not been brought to her attention before, but seemed to hang about the edge of a long forgotten memory. A small clue was missing, and that made Grunelda grasp the petrified finger of Ratty Jack in her apron pocket loosely. She squeezed it slightly and summoned her oldest minion.

"Now Amelie I am old and tired and time does not flow for me like it does for the young, could you tell me the reason for your visit?"

Grunelda did not feel the familiar prescence of Ratty Jack appear, although the room grew a bit colder as if some entity from the negative plane had entered. Which was of course impossible, after 3 decades of scribing spells on the very walls of this room, only the invited or summoned undead could enter.

"My Lady, I happened apoun some words of power I think. They were told to me in a dream about a fair man from Waterdeep. Since I was a child I've had dreams that have come true."

"And what were these words?", replied Grunelda.

"Well in all truth M'Lady I was hoping to garner a reward for my dream words. For I am obviously poor and any reward from M'Lady would be deemed rich."

Grunelda began to fathom the untruths in the womans words, "And what reward could I offer - gold, platinum, lands in far away places to farm and toil over?"

Turning almost as if she knew its location Grunelda's eye turned to follow Amelies finger as she pointed accross the room to the table that held the dagger of Oblivion. "Its that dagger I wish M'lady for my protection!"

Grunelda almost gasped outloud but stifled the urge.

The Dagger of Oblivion was a powerful necromantic object - the blade was the herald of death itself and had take Grunelda a great deal of time and effort to gather.

In no way would she let it go - and the mere idea that this petty fool knew about it was worth Grunelda's ire aimed at the womans heart. Yet Grunelda sensed a plot afoot, for this idiot could not have come this far without help.

"That dagger my dear would protect you well, it can not be held by anyone that I have not given it to freely."

Seething now, Gruenelda hissed, "Give me the words, you will have your reward."

Amelie seemed to consider her situation for the first time standing before Grunelda, she wobbled slightly and looked like she might fall for a moment then rasped out the words:


"Dal l' vesdrac tu'jol uoi'nota, dal l' to'ryll ssussun d' jil phylacteries, Usstan lar upoun Draeval lu' Despair ulu lar l' Elghinyrr'fearn ulu uns'aa"


Amelie then fell to ground, jarring loose a small green circle of stone - that rolled before Grunelda's feet.

"Aww my dear, your last bargining chip I see." smiled Grunelda as she picked up the jade bottle lid.

Grunelda finally understood.

The fool had been the mouth piece for another! Already her blood pressure was rising at the fools ruse as she crossed the room with legs that were much more spry than any Hag had tread with. Grasping the Dagger of Oblivion with her open hand she started back accross the room towards Amelie with great speed.

As Amelie finally gathered her wits she attempted to stand and fell to one knee again.

Grunelda screached at the top of her lungs, "Fool you did not waste my time completly but your reward awaits you!"

The Dagger sped through the air plunging deep into Amelies neck severing arteries and sinew and Grunelda whispered "Death" to the blade lovingly.

The woman slumped to the ground amongst a spray of crimson that quickly pooled around her head and torso on the black marble floor.

Grunelda, pushed forward by the strength and rage of the blow landed on one knee before Amelies quickly dying body.

Savoring the moment as the red blush of life left the young woman.

A thought began to creep into Grunelda's rage. As she watched the pink glow of life fade from the womans face.

The pink face of her abandoned daughter, with a sweet small mouth and warm intelligent green eyes.

Just like Amelie.

The Dagger of Oblivion dropped from Grunelda's hand and rattled accross the floor.

A scream was building in her mind as she began to loose control of her sanity, a single thought unraveling a life time of control.

The Dagger of Oblivion stole the souls of those it killed, cursing them into the realms of undead!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ratty Jack reveled in his revenge. It took all his composure to keep his form in the shadows as the Bitch Princess Grunelda drove the dagger deep into her own daughters neck!

When the long awaited deed was done he took the opportunity to fade into existance and coalesce into the room. Standing behind his Master, nearly solid in form - a swirling cloud of shadows and wraiths so dense only the pulsing knot of blue light of stolen soul fragments could be seen deep in his chest.

"I've waited a Century for my revenge O'Master. I once was lost to all, but found myself again in the dreams of others! Thank you for keeping me these many years, for in that time I have gleaned the information and magic to reform myself - a Revenant of the Man I once was, A man that you stole the soul and life from!"

"Feel the pain, feel the loss My Bitch Princess, for that is the loss my wife felt, the loss my Daughters felt. For I was not a homeless thief, but a lecherous man that you waylayed into unearthly service."

"Mourn your child, for I was unable to mourn the passing of my children as they died while I was in your service - taken by time. Time stolen by YOU!"

Grunelda whirled on her heel, with a spell to dispel the ghost of Ratty Jack on her lips.

It was lost at the sight of the creatue before her.

Immense in stature and vaguely having the form of a man, it stood 8 ft tall clothed in fabrics of jet black, oily sheen was upon then as they seemed to fade into the very being of the shadow creature. It radiated a cold that seemed to make the raging fire in the fireplace fade and cringe away. Eyes like twin corona's burnt in a black face of hate - the long dead face of Jack Abernathy, long murdered in Waterdeep.

Grunelda tried to scramble to her feet but only managed to lose her footing and move backwards in a crab like move. Hand resting on the jade green jar lid.

"One lesson you never learned in all your stolen time Princess was when to end you machinations!" cried Ratty Jack, as he began to surge forward like a tornado of semi-solid shadow and smoke.

Grunelda waved her hands in a intricate gesture of warding and control - a powerful magic used to control her minions - but Ratty Jack continued forward.

"O'My Bitch Princess I will steal your life now!", cackled Jack "You have lost control and invited one you do not control into your domocile!"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Grunelda understood.

She was going to finally die.

Not to what ever creature Ratty Jack had become, but to her own vanity.

She had kept her first creation too long, too proud of her work, too proud to let go of those early days in the search for Arilin.

Now Arilin would be forever lost!

Frustrated, moments before her death Grunelda thoughtless cried out a prayer to her Master with all her heart - recalling the loss of her daughter soul, her lose of control over time. The words Amelie had said, incorrectly in the language of the drow came rushing to her lips with one small change - Arilins lost name.

[b]"From the souls beyond hell, from the green light of jade phylacteries, I call upoun Time and Despair to
summon the Lich Arilin to me!", screamed Grunelda.

With a last desperate act Grunelda threw the jade lid at Ratty Jack.

It flew through the air with great speed, and for a moment Ratty Jack stopped his progress forward and reached out a hand of smoke and shadow to catch the green streak from the air.

But it passed easily through his hand and struck the basalt doors, shattering into countless pieces.

Surging forward, all thought of relishing his revenge forgotten Ratty Jack grasped Gruneldas throat in inhumanly strong hands and began to squeeze the life out of his Master.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The cold nothingness of Ratty Jacks hands made the air ebbing from Grunelda's lungs seem to burn, She swatted at the creature with both hands. But each blow passed threw his being and was burned by the cold!

"The Bitch Princess DIES!", screamed Ratty Jack in a voice that echoed like a dying scream over the ruins of Bloodstone.

No words came to Grunelda, only the contrasting feeling of such unearthly cold around her neck and bearing down on her body with the flames of the huge fireplace licking at her feet -now begining to burn her slippers away could be felt.

And even those feelings were beginning to ebb.

And then nothingness.

At first Grunelda thought that death had embraced her... until air rushed into her starved lungs again.

Ratty Jack was climbing off her and whirling around, between the swirling shadows of his legs Grunelda could see the form of a long dead man fade into view. The power of the creature was tangible evenin her weakened state. It sucked the life, the negative energy the force of all creation that was once living or long dead into itself.

Once again Grunelda felt her life ebbing away, slipping away not by the hands of Ratty Jack, but by the mere prescence of this new creature.

Time slowed as the Ratty Jack let out a bellowing wail, "IT CAN NOT BE!"

With a wave of hand, barely raised from its waist the creature commanded Ratty Jack with a powerful ward. The maelstrom in which Jack had created a new form simply solidfied into a oily sludge, solidified - and shattered into thousands of pieces. Littering the marble floor and covering the blue body of Amelie.

The creature shambled accross the room, and with each step time seemed to slow for Grunelda.

Grunelda could feel her life force being drawn from her body, her immortal soul being drawn along with it.

Her Vision began to fail and she felt the edge of the abyss to Oblivion quickly approaching.

A raspy voice, strange in tone without the aid of air in live lungs whispered into Gruneldas ears:

"Immortality is what you seek, Immortality is what you shall have. You are a fool and will curse this day for all eternity, but you have proven yourself resourceful, evil, and ruthless. Henceforth all will despise you on sight and run from you in terror. Children will have nightmares about you, and armed men will hunt you down in your places of hiding. Your flesh will rot from your bones, and only undead creatures will be comfortable in your horrid presence."

"Most importantly you will lose your soul and all semblances of mercy, charity, joy, pleasure, and the ability to love. May the dark gods laugh at your plight, and may you ever recall this day with terror."

Grunelda stuggled to open her eyes. Heavy lidded and struggling to maintain conciousness her last living vision was the decaying face of Arilin staring back at her - unblinking as he plunged the Dagger of Oblivion through her heart.

"Another Nydelahar Liches!", cried Arilin.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Note: I figure the only person that will make it this far is Mike! I will always owe a great debt of gratitude to my Master, who helped me learn about Sojourn and its ppl. How to accomplish my goals. And most importantly was my friend. Thanks Arilin!

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