Author Topic: Telak Vyte's Journal  (Read 56 times)

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SkagHunter

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on: October 10, 2019, 02:32:40 AM
Where to even begin?
The Dreamweaver said I should keep a journal of my nightmares, and I suppose I should keep record of what I was, before all of that is lost, not that much of anything matters. Ash, Ruin and Ice are all that are left to me.



SkagHunter

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on: October 10, 2019, 02:50:12 AM
Sequentially... That's where to start. It's only logical.

I cannot recall how we met, for the Rings have stolen that from me. The name and all small details of the ones I once loved. She was a mage, meticulous and arcane in her mastery. I could once recall her eyes, a beautiful shade of- something, though now all I see when I try to remember is a yawning void where such beautiful orbs once were and a vicious, jagged smile. I recall she was captured once, taken as a witch to be burned. It was not the easiest to free her, though with the aid of my brothers in faith it was done. Perhaps it should not have, or perhaps that is simply what the nightmare wishes me to see and remember, what the Winds in their infinite cruelty desire.



SkagHunter

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on: October 10, 2019, 03:01:16 AM
I wonder if this is all a dream, and I am to awake soon, out of this nightmarish hellscape, awake back to halcyon days in a quaint if frigid homestead amongst the northern mountains, awake where the chill can be fought off, awake before what I had made of my life burned or was strangled by my own hand... but I do not think it is to be.

She had returned from an expedition into the ruins of a fellow practitioner's compound, if only barely. If it was she who returned, then she had witnessed horrors then unimaginable, though now I see them in ever moment, waking or otherwise... She was wounded, deep within the private fortress of her mind, and without, her fingertips raw and skinned, eyes reddened from weeping- or perhaps laughing, and she shook like a leaf in a gale, shivering to a Wind that I could not feel, though the chill upon her I most certainly could. She brought with her a grimoire, darkly, suspiciously bound, whispering, mocking, laughing without making a sound, what I know now to belong to the Winds and their Master. A bringer of ruin and all that is wrong with these worlds.

I thought her feverish at first, addled by her injuries and so terribly frostbitten was she. I recall directing our children elsewhere, to bring in wood for the fires, anything to keep them from seeing her miserable state. Three days did it take to nurse her back to health, enough that she could speak. Her tongue lashed then, like a serpent, spewing maddening, venomous words. I tried to comfort her, to warm her, but it amounted to naught. Little could be done, and so eventually I fell into a stupor of exhaustion.



SkagHunter

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on: Today at 12:48:25 AM
I think I dreamed then, the first of many to come. I saw  a titanic hand thrust from endless, crimson ice, a lake of steaming blood pooling in it's withered, clawed hands. Something awaited me in the center, as the winds whipped and howled all around. My beloved, her enrapturing, gem-like eyes gone, replaced by endless pits, her loving, kind smile replaced by something savage and cruel. She took me in her arms when I reached her, her fingers bloodied, the sanguine stench of the lake entirely overwhelming... and she spoke and told me all that was to come. All that must be done, until I woke, screaming for breath and sanity.



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on: Today at 01:18:52 AM
I woke to a world gone cold, my beard and lips frosted, my fingers and limbs numb with the chill. The fire had died in the hearth and each window had been tossed open with great force, shattered against the walls of our home to allow the raging blizzard in. My beloved, and my children were nowhere to be found, though I was given a grisly surprise... a trail of blood led from the room of my children, not one of them past ten winters.

I gathered my mace and set out into the storm, the wind HOWLING and MOCKING all the while. The words spoken in my dream- no, Nightmare returned, again and again thrown at me by biting, knife-like gales of ice and spite, whispered just within earshot, or perhaps I had gone mad... who is to say really. I continued on for what felt like aeons, and knew I would not be returning whole. My extremities grew numb, and then painfully warm, and then once more into a final numbness I knew they would never recover from, though little did I care. I followed that crimson streak through the storm as it burned it's way into my mind. A single streak of crimson across and endless plain of snow and ice and rock... a giant's hand covered in the gore of a fallen god's heart protruding like a monolith from the ice...

Eventually I found her. I found them. She had become demented, maddened with whatever sickness had taken her mind. She whispered and screamed and sang in time to the howling, taunting winds... as she sewed together the corpses of our children. I cannot recall if my anger warmed me, amidst this frigid hellscape, or if my heart had already frozen over, but I do recall wrapping my lifeless, blackening hands about her throat, and squeezing the life from her, the only recompense to this atrocity. She did not even fight me, cackling and HOWLING with laughter and curses as the copper wedding band ripped the skin from her throat with it's glacial chill. I watched as the light faded from her eyes, though I cannot recall for the life of me what color they might have been... all I saw then, and now is that same pit as in my nightmare, endless and full of malevolence.

As her corpse fell to the snow, the abomination in-front of her rose. The fruit of decades of love and toil, rising upon eight limbs and turning two sets of burning, blue eyes upon me. It moved quicker than anything so terribly constructed should, and raked needle-sharp fingers through my flesh while razored bone spurs protruding at all angles and nightmarish fangs shredded my left arm. But I had fought similar wretches before, and it soon fled before my mace, and the growing hatred that had overtaken what once held all that was good, faith, love, hope, joy, all tasting of copper and ash within my mouth. I tracked the wretch with single-minded determination, back to my home. Even as my veins pumped crimson ichor into the snow, until it too froze over, and my fingers and limbs grew ever colder I stumbled on. Eventually I returned home, and cornered the thing. It was dashed, both it's skulls split and dripping from the thick rugs of the house back out into the storm. A lamp or torch had fallen free during our struggle, for all that remained of what was once my home burned, thick, oily smoke rising only to be hauled away by the cackling winds... and I too had paid the price for my Pyrrhic victory, my left leg shattered at the kneecap in a single blow by the unholy strength of a thing no bigger than a man, all together. I had dragged myself away from the flames, further into the ice and cold to watch and to die. I felt the life seeping from me, dripping across the shards of bone and ravaged meat spread across the ice, the searing, though quickly dulling pain. I closed my eyes...

And woke.