Thoughts

[Falador]

The night falls across Uthgol like a thousand blankets of black silk. Littered throughout the sky, small patches of clouds and fog hang silently in the air. The ever watchful Fealu shines brightly, illuminating the world below in a soft glow. The clouds, as though intimidated by Fealu’s splendor, form a ring around the moon, never entombing it with their dense bodies. A stillness falls over Letum, a calmness as deep as the Undead’s love of the land. The ever present wind that blows through Uthgol is stilled, not even a breeze sweeps through the Vampire’s hair, as he leans against an oak, just North of the Silent Plains. A slight smile plays across his lips as he watches, staring off into nothing at all. The Smile is not one of amusement, more of irony, knowing he has once again stumbled onto thoughts he could not possibly know the answer to.

Purpose. The word echoes through my mind like an endless cavern, echoing off the walls of my mind, reverberating through my very being. Purpose, a word so definitive, and yet so eluding. Purpose…We all have one, else we would not be here…Grendel knows this. We all seem to have a common cause, ridding Uthgol of the pink skinned creatures, grow, and continue to learn in the way of Grendel. Its all there, its practically carved into the walls of the shrine. If this is all we are here for, then I serve my “purpose” day after day, night after night. If this is so, then why do I feel so empty? Why does it seem like all I do is in the light of nothing? What is missing from this Un-life I cherish so much?

Ralimere frowns slightly as those thoughts come into shape in his mind. He kneels next to the tree, lightly flopping his legs out in front of him, neatly folding his hands into his lap. Leaning back, he feels some measure of comfort when his head gently rests against the trunk of the large oak. He knew the tree would be there, there was no question. He KNEW because he touched it, he KNEW because he saw it, he knew because he could feel it pressing against his spine, even before his head reached it. More thoughts rush through the Vampire’s mind as he closes his eyes once more.

Purpose. The definitive side is obvious, and the eluding part is coming more and more into full view. It isn’t so much eluding, as it was hidden. It wasn’t trying to be hidden…one just has to ask himself the correct question. WHY does it feel like purpose is eluding? Purpose is not something you touch, or see. It is not something in the material sense, not at all! Oh how wrong I’ve been! I think I understand…Purpose is so much deeper! Purpose is something you FEEL! Something you feel in the very bowels of your being! When one joins a clan, it FEELS the need to protect the members and masters, it is not protocol, it is a voluntary wish…

A Voluntary wish, the three words his mind had been searching for were now being held tightly by every fiber of his soul.

What is my wish? To serve Grendel, To become powerful, To become respected, pick one…These wishes are more innate I think, to all monsters awakened in Grendel’s grace. We all share in that purpose…No... not purpose, duty. Purpose is a voluntary wish, something decided by one’s self to determine a course or path for one’s life, or un-life.

Then what, is my VOLUNTARY wish?

Ralimere opens his eyes slowly, a feeling of sheer ecstasy pouring through his body . Blinking slowly in final understanding of the thoughts plaguing his mind, he smiles once again…the smile of enlightened understanding.

He stands slowly and stretches, rolling his shoulders back, arching his neck forward and bending his knees. The sickening cracks and crunches make his chuckle to himself. So much noise in such a quiet night…

My voluntary wish…I will think on it.

His eyes burning brightly with the lavender flames that friend and foes alike have come to know, he walks slowly to his home, listening for the sound of on-coming footsteps. While he thinks, he has other business to attend to…other duties.

[I made this thread, to show how your character is fighting inner battles, I know Ralimere has a lot of them, and he acts differently…It’s just to show that our characters have battles within, as well as exterior. It’s somewhat to give other players a perspective into the mind of your character. I don’t know, just thought it would be fun. I hope you all enjoy this thread, I’m not sure how well Its going to work out, but I thought I would give it a try. Just remember, this is Your Character’s inner battles. Any thoughts and comments would be appreciated as well. Let me know what you people think!]

[CornFed]

[love it... I will post something soon from Bain's thoughts.]

[Whindanser]

[Great stuff...inspiring to do my own about my own characters]

[SnowytheWyvern]

[One word... Wow! That was excellent]

[CornFed]

Bain sits, addressing a heavy lead scepter. Closing his eyes he places his hands upon the scepter… chanting words not recognizable he jerks as his vision shifts.

A thousand voices and images blur before him. The images and sounds eventually twist and curl into a single humming thread, which pulses with a sharp blue light. Bain strums the thread and listens intently to the tone it pours forth.

Sneering in discontent Bain opens his eyes. He looks at the scepter for a moment before tossing it over his shoulder into a large pile of miscellaneous items.

“Bah!”, he grunts.

Bain stands to address the large pile of swords, shields and wooden carvings.

“Why have you awoken me?” he questions.

He pauses for a moment.

“Loop!”

A skeleton warrior steps from the corner of the room.

“Yes master?”, the skeleton warrior asks confidently.

Bain turns his attention from the pile of items and turns to address his skeleton warrior.

“Get Pow, when night falls we collect more items.”, commands Bain.

The Skeleton warrior bows reverently and exits the tomb.

Bain thinks to himself:

“Be I out of line to think I disturbed my own sleep? Is that even possible? I fear my connection with these plains is fading… this place has changed. The “she” that Netze refers to as the plains of Letum is not the plains I know… the “voice” that called to me was no she. Yet… It is entirely possible that his connection with the plains is greater then mine. Perhaps so great he is able to discern even a gender.”

Bain holds up a quarterstaff.

“but why then did I wake with you… You are not Gruloch’s staff, the staff was passed to Snearek… Yet I detect nothing in your hum…”

Loop enters the tomb confidently.

“Master, Pow is ready.” Loop explains.

Bain grins.

[Falador]

[ Wow, well done! I'm glad you are all enjoying this thread so far, we all know Ralimere is a troubled little vampire, more should be coming soon from him. Thank you all for the support on this thread! Keep it up!]

[Jubylee]

Jubylee the Vampire gazes across the vast plains, her sapphire-blue eyes clouded over with confusion.

*She took him away from me..and now I have bound myself to all that she encompasses. How foolish..I grant her requests at the expense of my own personal happiness.

She threads her hair behind her ear as she attempts to collect her thoughts. Her every fidget becomes a magnification of her inner torment.

I would bind myself to Hell for Netze. But this..the Lady has my soul, and she can crush it at a moment's notice. She cares not for her people, for her predators, for her servants; she cares only for power, limitless power. And when I fall, I will have to lay beside her, within her..another soul claimed defending the purity of Letum. Yet, I see there is no purity within these lands..there is only hunger, an insatiable appetite for destruction, one I fear shall never be filled.

Despising herself for contradicting her own personal beliefs, her heart and mind begin waging what she knows will be an eternal battle for her soul. Her blood spilled, her oath spoken..what will become of this vampiress..a soul of a warrior with the hands of a mage; the heart of a vision past with the mind of the disturbing present. Only time will tell..

[mind you, I was writing quickly..so forgive the short length :P]

[Falador]

The gurgling, bubbling sounds from the swamp echo loudly through the night. The fetid quagmire mirks with a foul stench of decay and death. ~How many have fallen in these wretched swamps, how many have found themselves face-down in this muck...how many of those that have fallen, didn't want to get back up?~Ralimere thinks to himself.

The vampire curiously wanders through the swamps, nit-picking his way through, carefully making a trail for himself, only for the swamp to swallow his footsteps as soon as he makes them. A gust of wind blows the stench across his face once again.

Stepping away from the humid swamps, and into the crisp air overtaking the plains of Letum, he looks to the sky. A dark cloud cover has fallen over the land. Fealu is not to be seen. The air is chilled, and a slight drizzle is falling.

Ralimere doesn't mind the chill air, the only part of this night that bothers him, is that Fealu cannot be seen, the moon he cherishes, thrives in the light of, is not visible. Ralimere's heart sinks a bit at the thought of going about his day to day wonderings, without Fealu's presence.

Still, he has finally come to a decision in his mind, and now thinks out what he believes to be a solution to a problem facing him since he awakened. Since he can remember, a question has plagued him relentlessly, and with a spark of delight, his thoughts begin to unravel.

My Voluntary Wish, it seemed as though I would never find it...never realize what I was truly here to discover, to feel. I thought my un-life would be forever blanketed in the darkness of this question, but now a light has shone through, a realization that should have been there since the beginning, is now in full view.

Ralimere chuckles slightly to himself as he wanders over The Plains.

My Voluntary Wish, my purpose, my reason for being here, is to Learn. To learn all I can about anything I can...There is so much to know, but how many possess the knowledge that I seek? It would take all those in uthgol, every scratching in the shrine, every breath of every monster to know the things I wish to know.
We all want to learn, of course we do, but I want more than just to learn, I want to understand. I want to UNDERSTAND why things are the way they are, I've found now that I am not one who just ACCEPTS the way things are, because its how it has always been. WHY has it always been, WHERE did the traditions come from, WHAT fueled the fires for the heated battles between so many? Though so much is none of my business, it is not my intent to pry, but more my intent to grasp and understand.

I know there will be things that I cannot know, things forgotten to the ages, and things never meant to be shared, but anything I can learn, I shall!

Resolution burns brightly in the vampire's eyes as he stops and releases a hearty laugh from his very being.

Its glorious, to finally comprehend WHY I want to know...and isn't that the beauty of it? WHY I want to know! Not because, but WHY! Its a magnificent feeling, to wonder, to ask...to ponder. So many pull themselves through every day and every night never stopping to ask themselves WHY. I don't understand it, how can there be an existance, without a proper origin..How can there be resolution, when there was never a question. Well now I can find the answers, because I have the questions.

I will search out this land, discover all I can about it...that is my voluntary wish.

Ralimere smiles widely as he strolls across the plains, inspecting everything as he walks along, chuckling to himself.

Some may find me mad for wondering such things, some may call me a fool, but I will know, I have to know...

Ralimere's thoughts suddenly take a quick turn in his mind, a subject he has also been thinking on, and now that he has the answer to the question he longed for, which was a question in itself...THE IRONY! He now turns his sight to another matter in his mind.

The Shadow Sentinels in themselves, have grown so powerful as a clan, each member contributing all they can for the good of the clan, To see it prosper once more, to rise again as the most powerful clan in Uthgol. There are those that were before The Shadows, but they are of another matter. The Shadow Sentinels have grown powerful once again, under the Leadership and Guidance of their new master Atropos, aided by Mauvelous, The Shadows have time and again proven their worth at Fanes, Thrones, and common battles in the forests, on the plains, and in their own lair. They have risen, and shined, as they had in the time of The Pharaoh.

Pride swells through the vampire as he grins.

The Shadow Sentinels have come once more, and once more, they aren't going anywhere...

[Emolis]

Through the hole the voice is heard, but only slightly. Someone who is asleep rarely makes that much noise at all. A drift of words hardly understandable are often heard, but clearly? "What.." The only word on the string that seems to be heard. Through the mumblings of the restless sleep...



What am I? What have I been? What have I become?.. Why does another dwell within me.. why does he know what I do not? Are we seperate? Are we the same? So many questions are running through my mind.. so many answers I need to find. How did I come to be here? Who was here first?

Who is she? I still don't know myself. I've been searching myself for a way she could have appeared, but I haven't found anything. No rythme or reason to it. This is confusing to have another dwelling within. Helping your movement. Having only sleep to protect your thoughts from each other.

The vampire sits up suddenly, awake.

Who's really trapped?

[Blood Princess]

The Vampiress ripped chunks of flesh and blood from the ugly knight in front of her. In fact, the vampire wasn’t all there. At least not in thoughts.

How can they expect me to change my beliefs just because I’m here, now?

She gazed up at the cloudless night sky, eyes focusing on the moon in its luster through the slots in her mask. As the last human collapsed dead on the ground in a pool of blood, she stalked over to a corpse of another human, glaring down at it. Her bare feet made absolutely no sound on the grasses of the Plains. By the thick brown, hooded robe it was wearing, it definitely was a friar.

Am I supposed to adapt? I left my tribe to explore…I didn’t abandon them! How can I expect to return there some day if I can’t continue to follow the Code?

The female, Bailey, lifted up her mask with her eyes still focused on the friar‘s body. The beads attached to the mask clanked together with the beads in her hair, creating a pleasant noise. She leaned over and sniffed the corpse for several moments, then stood back up with a disgusted “BAH!”

“It has some of the knight’s blood on it! Da-”

All of a sudden, she slammed down onto one knee, head immediately going to her face. The middle of the five blood dots on her forehead pulsated with a white light, and it pierced her skull with enough force for her to feel the pain all the way at the back. “I…”

Bailey stared out at her flat surroundings with an emotionless expression on her face, and then her eyes dimmed. “Yes…I know. I’m sorry…yes. I need to control my anger…” She looked as if she was listening to someone. “…Yes. It is my fault the blood desecrated it. …No. This will not happen again.”

After a few terse moments, she struggled to her feet, staring out at Letum blankly as she tried to calm herself. While sorting through some of the corpses for loot, her head shot up, gazing intently outwards. There, in the distance, was a pack of humans. She knew it. She smelled them. And most importantly, she -felt- them. Once again, she rose to her feet, pulling down her mask as she whispered something, then took off in the direction of the pack.

...I won't change for anyone.

[Dahaka]

A small and purplish blade of meadow grass tilts its face to gaze upon Fealu. It is soaking up the blue light from the foreign rock as it is suddenly ripped from its roots. The blade reels in agony as the red sphere that ripped it up proceeds to burn away its life. The last thing the grass feels in this horrifying embrace of light is the lights hate. Its contempt.

Dahaka floats, at a troubled pace, across a small meadow not knowing where he is running to. He looks back over his shoulder, but knows not what he is looking for. Fleeting images flood his mind's eye. He sees a woman smiling. Do I know this woman? Yes! I think I do! Yet, why does she haunt me? An image of a house appears.

The house is a modest ranch-style adobe with a small front yard. In the two windows Dahaka can see violent flashes of light and then the walls start to crack. The cracks spew a sultry black mist. The walls continue to crack and break- a shatter is heard as the windows blast out and onto the black-top of the road- the black smog thickens and sinks low to the ground. The grass under the smog hisses and folds over itself. Dahaka's frightened attention is turned from the grass back to the house which is no longer standing. The walls have given away and now the only thing standing where the house once stood is a man, and he is smiling. Smiling at Dahaka. But why?

The man looks at his own feet, still smiling, and Dahaka notices a small lump on the ground and next to it is an even smaller lump. The man crouches and caresses the lumps, still smiling. Dahaka allows his mind's eye to approach the crouching man and the two lumps. At closer inspection, Dahaka is surprised to find that the larger of the lumps is a woman- unmistakably dead- and a young boy, also dead. With frightening speed the man wheels around on Dahaka, forcing his gaze upon him. Dahaka can not look away from the man's flaming eyes and mocking grin. And then Dahaka understood. This is me! But it can't be? Those eyes and that grin are not me! And he sees me! Why does he see me?

With a sudden spasming of muscles, the fire in the man's eyes and his frown are gone. The man lays panting on the floor. John Siegel. That is his name. I am almost sure of it! The man looks first at his right hand and then at his left and screams in surprise. In his left hand there is a knife and there is blood. He jerks his head in the direction of the bodies and screams again, this time in a mournful manner. The house was now back around them. The man shook the woman, trying to wake her, but she was in a sleep that did not wake. He shook the boy in a similar manner and then fell atop him sobbing and screaming. In the corner of the room Dahaka felt a grinning presence and turned to it. What looked like a shadow at first moved across the wall. Dahaka would have still thought it a shadow had it not been brandishing a pair of red eyes and a shit-eating grin. This spirit, what is it waiting for? It has done its damage to this man and his family, why does it linger?

Dahaka suddenly had a strong eager to look back at the man. The man was hunkered against a wall with the boy's head in his lap. He was stroking the hair out of the boy's face and sobbing uncontrollably. Why do I feel such a strong connection to this man? The man's left hand rose and, with one last wail of mournful sorrow, he plunged the knife into his throat- pinning his head to the wall behind him. His legs spasmed momentarily and then he was still. The darkness on the wall approached the body and then stopped, as if waiting for something else to happen. And then something did happen. A blue light surrounded the man and his spirit began to rise, wailing and screaming, from its body. The darkness immediately seized the man's spirit and engulfed it. A moment later a blue light began emanating from the darkness and a doorway opened. It was not a door that had been there when Dahaka arrived. But not it was there, there was no mistake about that. The black-blue shape shot through the door as if sucked through it. Dahaka's mind's eye looks through the door with apprehension and sees a dark green field lit by moon-light.

The black-blue became completely blue and turned towards the doorway, now a full spirit. Its eyes though, they were black and mocking and they stared back at Dahaka. It was like looking in a mirror. Dahaka immediately recoiled his mind's eye and shot across the meadow towards his den. Once at his den, a mildewy hole in the ground, he began sobbing and moaning as only a spirit may do.
Who was that beast of a spirit that brought me here?
Aye, but yer ken who I am child! Yar-bugger! I am a part-o-you!
Why? What did you bring me here for?
Questions! You ask to many-o-dem', you do! Alright, I have let you in control for far too long. Go to sleep now weak one!

[Mauvelous]

A weary vampire sits in the corner of the dim entrance of the Sentinels Lair pacing relentlessly. Her burning eyes narrow as her bloody claws run throughout her flowing loosely kept hair. As she dispatches her warriors to the passing fane she drifts into deep thoughts of her own existance.

She finds herself walking the halls briskly thoughts racing throught her head. " Am I good enough to do this? Am I ready? I only want to be the best, but what if I fail? What will they think of me? "

She turns to see Bahaal the Mummy walking in from the deep green pasture where the enourmous brownish- green leaves grow nearby. He is visably exhasted, seeing him like this always makes her furious at herself. Wanting to better herself to help in anyway she can. Turning away hugging his passingly she walks out to continues her patrole.

As she turns the corner to make her way down past the bone bazarre floods of thoughts overtake her once more. " I wish I knew their true feelings, am I good enough, will this ever last? How can I live up to the other great undead that have come to these plains." Sighing in exhast she makes her way back to the entrance, her feet carry her without thought as they have many times before without fail. As she says her good nights to her faithfull undead a worried frown upon her face. Turning into her tomb she drifts to sleep where visions will return her douts.

[Bahaal]

A lone warrior wanders the Plains of Letum. Always alone hunting .... killing. With each kill a dark feeling burns inside. Growing everytime he strikes true with his blackjack. He craves more .... more death .... more destuction .... MORE!! The darkness swells within him ..... consuming him. Nothing else satisfies him. But wait .....who is this ..... A vampiress .... Mauvelous ..... As he spends more time with her, the darkness .. the cravings to kill fade.

I care for this vampire. Her mere passing lessens the deep feelings of destruction. How can this be?

[Reyhan]

Deep in the lair a lonely lich sits wondering to himself why all things happen the way they do. Why feelings curse his body, and why he has no control over them. There's an aura of desperation looming around him, and a distraught look upon his face. He burries his head into his hands with his elbows resting on his knees, sighing. An urge tells him that he must find a mate, but his pride tells himself that it isn't so. "I don't need another to complete myself. What kind of monster would I be if I had to depend on another for my happiness? How would this solve the emptiness inside? How? How?!!" A silence comes over the dark dreary room. A tear slowly trails down this poor lich's face, as he begins to weep solemly; no one is in sight. An angry growl followed by deep, dark roar eminates forth from this little lich. He spits, shaking his head angrily as he wipes his mouth, storming out of the room. "Arrrghhh! This will not get me down. Not a chance in hell. Never will such despair keep me like this. Never will its grasp clench hold of me so tightly that I cannot escape. NEVER!!!" The lich heads atop the lair, as he disappears into the shadows.

[Dahaka]

[[Just something i thought would be fun to do. Continuing his story after he tiers.]]

The spirit of Dahaka. The spirit comprised of the once John Siegel, and now also the intruder , awakes from a fleeting dream in a sleep that was not sleep. It was in fact the only type of sleep that a spirit was capable of: lack of awareness, fleeting images, involuntary moans and wails. Yet, somehow, Dahaka now feels rested. Why? He sits up and rubs his eyes with callused hands. Wait. Hands? The confused spirit scurries- on knees that should not be there- over to a puddle in his den. The spirit now finds that he is not a spirit. He now has flesh. Flesh! His face is a study in spoiled meat and mildew. A piece of flesh painlessly pulls free of his cheek as he rubs it with his greenish-grey finger tips. The flesh falls to the ground and dissolves quickly. Suddenly he is hungry. Extremely hungry at that. The sensation hits him as an old enemy would after years of hunting him down. He screams in pain as cramps rip through his abdomen. He is soon coughing and from his mouth comes the vilest stench he has ever smelled and following the stench comes vomit. A green vomit speckled with black pieces of flesh that Dahaka assumes are no doubt his innards. The vomit lands on a nearby corpse and the corpse instantly becomes a bubbling puddle of green and yellow liquid. Following instinct Dahaka reaches down and cups the liquid in his hands. He greedily gulps the liquid into his mouth and is instantly rewarded with an ease in his abdomen. More, I NEED MORE.

Dahaka scurries out of his den and into the world. Searching. Searching for anything to spew on. Anything.

Deep in the depths of his mind cackles a hollow laughter. A laughter that Dahaka-John could not hear. Yet.