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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Shadow and Starlight: Dream Sequence


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Greetings once more, honored ones. I, Elwen, the star-maiden, have come once more in hopes that I may be found worthy to enter your guild. The piece that I bring this time is an excerpt from my (unfinished) novel "Shadow and Starlight", a dream sequence that opens the work. Perhaps the Lady will smile on me this time...

 

 

 

It was cold, and dark.

“Help me.” a ragged voice pleaded. She looked down to see an old woman lying in the snow, crimson all around her. The woman bent down, ignoring the fact that her white robes were trailing in the blood, but it was too late: the old woman was dead.

So many others lay dead in the ruins of this once-beautiful city: all the rest of the Guardians had fallen, and she was the only one who remained, the only one of the Circle of Light. The Apocalypse had come, bringing death and sorrow and pain and destruction with it, humanity had fallen and would never recover. She sighed in sorrow as she straightened up, knowing her own failure had brought it to this. It was her fault and no one else’s.

“Messenger.” A frantic, scared little girl gasped, clutching at her sleeves. “Leave this place, Elthia’s Herald. Leave, now! Flee while you still can!”

“What?” she asked.

“The Dark Lady comes seeking you, and his Lord.” The girl said through tears. “The One Who Cannot Be Named-ah!”

A spasm racked the small form, and the child crumpled in on herself with a long scream, the light fading from her pale eyes. Sarya backed away, the dead girl falling limply forward to lie at her feet. She prayed briefly, clutching tightly her staff as her eyes searched the horizon. Another one. By the Lady Bright, another one! How many innocents had to die because of her failure? Hundreds lay dead and thousands were dying, while people hid in basements, hoping in vain that the darkness would not find them, would not claim them-

“It seems you did not take the girl’s warning to heart, Sarya.” A familiar baritone voice called, and Sarya turned to find “The One Who Cannot Be Named” standing there, smirking. “Why do you stay? There is no hope. Your circle is gone, the Light is dead. What is there left for you?”

A slender form ghosted up out of the shadows, cloaked in black. The Dark Lady, who was no lady at all. Pale and slender, he was silent, silvery-gray eyes holding no emotion in them.

“Well…” the baritone-voiced man continued. “Then you might as well die with the city and those futile mortal beings who existed within it. It is better to die in hope…then to live in despair.”

The silent Dark Lady raised a slender hand, as pain ripped through Sarya, and she knew, intimately, how the little girl had died, with no mark upon her. She reached out with her own dying consciousness in an attempt to find any goodness, any innate light, that still remained in the young man.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her heart stopped, squeezed until it burst by an invisible hand, and her spirit was ripped violently out of this mortal incarnation.

The last thing that she was aware of was that it was her fault that this had come to pass. That it was her fault that there was no light left.

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I'm sure, as Elder Wyvern indicated in the sticky thread, he'll get to the Applications just as soon as he can.

 

It's strange how sometimes real life can hit so hard, especially when it contains college classes!

 

On the other hand...

 

This IS very good. Perhaps I should pay Wyvern to stall acceptance a bit longer so we get ANOTHER installment... ;)

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*the young elf maiden eyes the half-elf warily* I hope that was a joke, sir. If it is, it is not a funny one. But to forestall any bribery, here is the next installment of Shadow and Starlight.

 

Sarya awoke screaming, or she would have if she hadn’t already screamed her throat raw. Her neighbors were well used to her nightmares and her horrified screaming all night long, so they had long ago ceased to pound angrily on the floor and ceiling. It was just as well, because Sarya couldn’t help her nightmares any more then she could help being what she was. It was one of the many prices she paid for her powers and her immortality, all gifts given her by her goddess, Elthia, the Lady of Starlight. It was the price she paid for being Elthia’s Herald, the Messenger of the Lady of Starlight. Dreams that were forged of pure darkness, dreams that told what would Be unless she and the other Guardians of the Light worked to avert the coming cataclysm, dreams given each of them by their respective goddess. It was their duty, their onus, their sole reason for existence: to /change the future / so that what each Guardian Saw would not become a reality.

Eyes the color of the changeable sea opened at last, and focused blearily on the bedside clock. The digital numbers glowed a steady red, showing 7:00. The woman groaned-it was Saturday, thank Elthia she did /not/ have work today-but knew she couldn’t go back to sleep. It was useless…if she did, she wasn’t going to get /any/ rest, and she would have to face /that/ again. Not a nice preposition by any means.

“Coffee…” Sarya managed to mumble out, her abused vocal cords quickly healed with a touch of healing magic. It was something she did /every/ morning as a matter of routine, ruin her vocal cords after a night of endless screaming and then waste a little power to fix them, only to ruin them again. Well, she needed the routine, it was as indispensable for her as coffee was in order to get going in the morning.

Sarya stumbled into her kitchen and groped blindly for a mug. Thank the Lady she had had the sense to turn the coffeemaker on the previous night, or she wouldn’t have coffee now. She certainly was in no condition to do it now. The guardian managed to locate a mug and the carafe filled with coffee, and poured herself a cup. Not bothering with cream or sugar, she gulped down the hot liquid strong and black: she had served a stint in the Navy once, under a totally different name, and had learned to eschew such frivolities, even gaining a measure of tolerance for ersatz coffee, though she still preferred the /real/ stuff. Also, it had been during World War Two, and what little sugar she could get had been used for other purposes.

“Argh…” Sarya moaned as she dropped her head on the kitchen counter. Sometimes, being Elthia’s Herald was just more then she could bear. A destiny too heavy for any mortal, and it showed. She was, physically, in her midtwenties, the same she had been over two thousand years ago, when she had first answered her Lady’s Call. But emotionally, she had experienced much of the darker side of humanity over those long years, and it showed in her eyes: she had seen the betrayal and destruction of the Firstborn, of the Elves, her Lady’s people, by the very folk they were meant to help and to heal, she had seen it all. Her weariness, her heart-sickness, her knowledge of the coming storm showed in her eyes, eyes much too wise and weary for the young woman she seemed.

And time was running out. It all hung upon the brink now…so, so close. Everything hung upon the edge of a knife…stray but a little, and they would fall, everything the Guardians had worked for failing. Her dreams were very specific on that…

Sarya’s musings were interrupted by a familiar voice that yelled furiously inside her head. :Sarya, get that crazy cat away from me!:

Sarya, amused, looked toward her balcony, where her cat stalked a lark. The songbird tried to flutter away, but it couldn’t escape for long.

:Sarya, help me!: her friend pleaded, sounding /really/ desperate now.

“Alright, I’m coming, just don’t get your feathers in a bunch.” Sarya responded, her mood instantly lightened. The petite priestess strode over to the balcony, opened the sliding door, and retrieved the unhappy ball of white fur. Sarya soothed her annoyed pet as she carried her into the bedroom and shut the door.

:Why are you soothing /her/? She’s not the one who was nearly eaten alive!: the lark complained, shifting into a dark-haired, young-seeming man of medium build. “Your cat’s crazy, Sarya!”

“That’s what you get for not coming here the /normal/ way, Bob. You /had/ to come in bird form, didn’t you.” Sarya remarked lightly.

Bob growled. “I hope the others get here soon.”

Sarya walked back into the kitchen, not caring that he saw her in only pajamas-he’d seen her in less, after all-and poured herself another cup of coffee. This was going to be a long day.

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Regardles of formating problems, GREAT JOB! Heheheh. I really like where this is going, you should start a thread for the rest of his story in the conservatory, and , yes, I DID say the REST so there had better be more! Lol. Great job. :)

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  • 2 weeks later...

Melba continues to wipe the coffee that she had spilled due to Peredhil's comment* from her cheeks and shirt, quickly dashing towards the Pen's central restrooms in order to fully clean herself off. The Almost-Secretary of Initiates quickly opens the doors to the Ladies Room, only to be greeted by an enormous wave of fizzy ooze formed by the monster that now resided there... Melba lets out a short shriek as she's submerged in liquid fizziness...

 

*(See Elwen's previous application poem for more details)

 

Elwen sighs to herself and fidgets in her applicant easy chair uneasily, worried about her acceptance to the guild due to the reptilian Elder of Initiates' extended absence. Not only had the overgrown lizard not gotten around to the applicant's previous poem, he was also taking heineously long to get to the two excerpts from her novel she had submitted in the hopes of immediatly grabbing his attention. What's more: Melba, who was normally present in the office to comfort applicants in their waiting periods, was currently absent due to some unknown reason. The obese Almost-Secretary had told Elwen that she would be out to the bathroom for only a few minutes, but something obviously must have detained her as she had been gone for several hours...

 

Raising herself from her seat and considering searching for another member to ask about Wyvern's whereabouts, Elwen is about to leave the office when the Elder of Initiates himself comes barging in. Sitting Elwen back down in her seat and muttering countless apologies to the applicant, the exhausted lizard collapses into his desk chair and grabs Elwen's latest application from an enormous stack of messy papers that reside on his desk. Reading over the story excerpts fondly, Wyvern nods several times and hisses:

 

"Very nicccccce, more tragic drama from your obviously talented mind. Your previous application poem evoked similar feelings... apologies once again that my lateness caused you to write up another app, though I'm certainly not complaining as it's great!"

 

Having said this, Wyvern flashes Elwen a grin of razor sharp teeth before searching around the room and then muttering:

 

"Say... where did Melba run off to? That rabid hippopotamus of a secretary should be on office duty now!"

 

Elwen nods to this, and then responds:

 

"She said she was going to the bathroom and that it would take a few minutes, but she's been gone for hours..."

 

Wyvern chuckles to this, and then mutters:

 

"Well... her cooking can cause that kind of thing quite often. Still... I would love to catch her slacking off and get her in trouble. Let's go check the bathrooms to see what's up, afterwards I'll accept your application."

 

Elwen nods to this and accompanies the overgrown lizard as he exits the office and heads towards the central restrooms of the Pen. As the two approach the area of the restrooms, they are surrounded by a strange aura and can faintly hear the sound of fizzing... Arriving at the hallway leading to the restroom doors, Wyvern signals to Elwen and quietly hisses:

 

"You stay and wait for me here, this should only take me a few minutes."

 

Elwen nods and waits as Wyvern heads to the doors of the Ladies Room, snickering to himself evilly and reaching for a miniature camera hidden in the pocket of his tunic. He secretly hoped that Melba wouldn't be in the room, but rather one of the Pen's many good-looking ladies getting dressed...

 

Arriving at the Ladies Room door, Wyvern grins and nonchalantly open it only to be greeted by a gigantic blob of fizzing goo, which had several fish bones, raw rabit hide, and Melba's face amongst other things as it's features. Upon seeing this, Wyvern calmly closes the door and walks back to the applicant waiting for him. Elwen is surprised to find that Wyvern's scales have converted from their usual crimson hue to a pale white...

 

Wyvern forces a smile, stamps Elwen's application ACCEPTED, and then promptly collapses unconscious out of shock and horror...

 

;p

 

OOC: An entertaining story and an ACCEPTED application, Elwen, welcome to the Mighty Pen! :) My apologies for causing you to wait so long to be accepted, work kept me very busy for the past few weeks. Be sure to either post your e-mail address here or send me a mail at elitwack90@hotmail.com, so I can send you some additional Pen info. Once again, welcome!

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