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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword
Solivagus

A changed Solivagus

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The figure in the grey robe stood at the top of the hill, gazing down into the valley at the immense keep that rose from the ground. Spires climbed from the battlements, some epicentres of beauty stretching all the way to the clouds, some rambling contructs that the slightest breeze threatened to topple with a crash. The lines of pain and sorrow softened as the long-absent Witch Hunter gazed at the ancient castle, home to wizards, warriors and all manner of other creatures. Finally he had come home.

 

Before making his way back into the world he had been forced to leave behind for such a long time, he let his mind drift over the events of the last troubled years.

 

The black robed Witch Hunter stared bleakly at the now dying flames infront of him. Yet another friend consigned to the afterlife. Yet another comrade lost to the machinations of his enemies. A darkness began to sink into his mind, filling his head with dark images and cruel symbolisms. Why did he do it? Why did he try and rid the world of evil when it was clear that evil was so much stronger? It was all so pointless! With an almost inhuman howl of rage he ripped the symbol of his order from the breast of his cloak and cast it into the now-dying flames. The half-white, half black disk caught quickly and was swiftly turned to ash. Solivagus fled.

 

A single tear leaked from Solivagus's eye as the memory filled his mind. He recalled with a shudder the dark time of his life, a time that he spent in a drunken stupour in an attempt to forget his failings. It had been a bitter period of loss where he had lost track of all time and direction. How long it had lasted he couldn't be sure, but at least it has, eventually, ended.

 

He awoke to a dull throbbing in his head, his mouth dry and foul tasting. With a groan he opened his eyes and looked around, unsure whether he would find himself in room or alley. As his eyes flickered open, he saw the down-plunging blade of a knife. Hastily he cast an arm up, attempting to stop the blow, but he was unused to such things now, and the blade was determined. It caught him in the heart, and he died without even seeing the face of his killer.

 

He hung suspended in darkness. There was no floor, no walls, no ceiling, yet still he had the impression that he was in a chamber of some sort. He tried to move, but he might as well have tried to see in the pitch blackness. It was as if his arms and legs had no strength, or worse, that they were not even there. Suddenly there came from all around him a moaning, keening wail that cut right to his soul. He had heard such wails during his time as a Witch Hunter. It often accompanied the chantings of necromancers as the performed thier diabolic art, ripping the dead from thier resting place and forcing them to do thier will. As the wail began to increase in volume and pitch grey shapes began to appear in a circle around him. They were hooded and cloaked, formless save for the grey robes they wore. With one voice they spoke, and thier voice was as the dead and flat as the grave itself.

 

"Solivagus of Erchnabrind, former Witch Hunter and servant of Law, thence betrayer and perpetrator of Chaos, you are summoned before the Gods of Neutrality."

 

Solivagus suddenly found himself able to speak. "The Grey Gods left the earth a millenia ago. Why have you returned, and what do you want of me?"

 

And the Gods of Neutrality, the keepers of the balance between Law and Chaos, told him of thier command.

 

A long sigh issued from Solivagus's mouth as he recalled thier instructions. He had a long and difficult path ahead of him, but at least he could always be assured sanctuary within the Keeo.

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"Excellent short story, Solivagus, and as a result, your Weenie Award shall be removed." Gyrfalcon said with a bow.

 

The half-elven ranger chanted an arcane spell and pointed at Solivagus, a gentle blue wave of light washing over Solivagus and disappearing behind him, taking with it the Weenie Award, and a slight craving for pork that Solivagus had been feeling.

 

"I look forward to reading more of your work." Gyrfalcon said with a bow.

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Wyvern scurries into the Assembly Room just as the faint blue light of Gyrfalcon's spell washes over the long tables of half-finished stories. The reptilian Elder freezes and chatters his teeth, imagining any number of spells rhyming with "potter" and reaching into his pockets for an Almost Dragonic Brand Mini-Troll Tissue Rag Towel™ in case of emergencies. The lizard's limbs gradually loosen as he watches the blue fade to a transparent tint, and he turns to Solivagus with a knowing sneer.

 

"Hmmm, I sss'pose we'll have to classify you in the 'ressurected under ownership' category, with such celebs as Vlad the lich." Wyvern waves a large folder of paperwork in front of Solivagus and plucks a quill from his back pocket. "Of course, in your return, you'll have to fill out a few minor pages of Pen legalities. Just remember, parts A1 to A27 and C59 to G2^13 are all 'yes' or 'no' answer questions."

 

"Yes or no questions?" Solivagus' eyes widen as a frown settles on his face. "B-but, the Gods of Neutrality, they-"

 

"You wanna remain a neutral party? No worriesss!" Wyvern reaches into his Devil's Advocate folder and hands Solivagus what appears to be a blank sheet of paper. "As a professional lawyer and administrative assistant in the field of ressurection ownership warranties, I'd be more than happy to help aid you in the process of procrastinating on this document. Just sssign right here, on this Almost Dragonic Brand Mini-Troll Tissue Rag Towel™."

 

"N-n-no!" Solivagus tries to wave off the filthy-looking rag. "G-get that thing outta my-"

 

"Quick, sign before it disintegrates!"

 

;-)

 

OOC: Another "welcome back" from me, Solivagus. ;-)

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