Kidnapped!

The only sound that could be heard was the falling rain against the roof, the thousands of tears slipping away from the skies to kiss the earth below. Such a rhythm is always calming, but with such a torrent of thoughts, the young Ayr`Dal mage could not relax in the slightest.

He saw many things through his scrying stones - some of them were what he was looking for, others just revealed themselves to him; all contained some sort of message for him, some puzzle to solve or some new game to play.

After much thought, there were still too many inconsistency that left him wanting answers he knew she wouldn’t have; at this point he highly doubted that her lover would either. But unlike either of them, he could not ignore the more than obvious inconstancies that faced them.

Silently, the mage rose from the stone chair he’d been lounging in, the hem of his robes brushing against the ground as he walked over to the stone dais that contained his scrying orb. The rainbow was faint, as though the stone was resting, but as soon as the mage’s hand drifted into the light, it flared and grew bright once more. His expression less than amused, the redheaded man muttered a few words in a strange language and soon the orb began to call up images it had witnessed not too long ago.

With interest, the mage watches a Teir`Dal clad in the white vestments of the Ashen Order sprinting towards a pair of figures. The woman collapsed to the ground, and the leering dark elf savage prepared to slam his sword into her body, the monk reaching out to grasp those hands before driving the sword into its owners body; he watches the entire fight once more, confused by several things.

“How does one who is over six and a half centuries move as such,” he thought, “even if he has worked to keep his body in pristine condition, there are truly no signs of an age that great…”

Growling slightly, the mage lifts a hand and waves it once, the images vanishing from the orb. He’d found the first pieces of the puzzle, and now he must connect the dots before he would be able to find rest; not only for her sake but for his own, as no Ayr`Dal can resist their curiosity for long.

As the shadows of night began to stretch out across the land, the Nektropos Nightflier he kept stirred from it’s perch, gliding over to a second stand near the orb. His slender, aristocratic fingers reached out to caress the beast, and again the mage began to sort through his thoughts aloud – not that he ever expected an answer from his winged companion.

“Yes, his hair is pure white as an elder Teir’s can become, and I cannot argue that his body has been hardened and weathered by years of training and experience, Ikarys,” he mused, still gently caressing the bat, “and yet it lacks the failings of an elderly body. And there seemed to be a bit of the events of the world that he does not know, as if he missed them completely…”

Turning from the bat, he began to pace back and forth across the room, occasionally pushing back the hair that fell into his eyes.

“I am curious, Ikarys,” he sighed, his mind turning over several thoughts before speaking again, “I suppose I shall have to investigate this first hand, in both body and mind…”

With that, he walked to the front door, opening the heavy carved oak silently before stepping out into the rain swept night. Closing the door behind him, the mage uttered a few spells and hundreds of arcane runes flared over the doors and windows before expanding outward to encompass the house, vanishing slowly as the mage walked away.

The walk across the rain swept desert was not long when time was not a concern to the one making the journey. With each step, the mage wove an elaborate illusion, becoming just a little bit older as he walked towards the gates to Nektulos Forest; by the time he reached the iron bars, he appeared to be almost as ancient as the forest – gone was his youth and the very features that made him recognizable, hidden by heavily veined wrinkled skin and the hood of his dark maroon and black robe.



She’d been writing for quite some time, caught up in the song that had drifted into her mind a few hours ago; she was so involved with her work that she didn’t even bother looking up when she heard the door open.

“Oh, Tarack, glad you’re home, there’s a song…” her voice trailed off as she felt something hit the back of her head. Caught off guard, she fell to the floor, stunned.

Before I put this rope down, I proceed to tie you up.
Strong hands lifted her up by the back of her neck, slamming her into the wall violently. Black stars of pain burst before her eyes, coalescing into almost total darkness. She felt her body go limp from shock, felt herself crumple into a pile on the ground when she was dropped.

Hands, wrapped like…they were the same weave on the same pale blue skin…but how…

They tied her up, binding her arms against her sides and her legs together, but she couldn’t pull herself from the darkness enough to get a good look at them; they looked like Tarack’s, with the same brilliant white weaves of cloth on them, but he’d never be violent.

The world went black before the hands finished tying her up.

No one here is, fearful of this pain because they know…
The illusionist let the image of Tarack fall away from his body, nodding to the other four Teir`Dal that stood in the doorway. As one, they entered the room and began searching through its contents – taking several books and her journal; they left the rest of the room untouched.

Though she appeared to be unconscious, one of them lifted her, throwing her against the wall several more times. Her right side was deeply bruised now, but it wasn’t enough for the brigand; with a cruel sneer, he turned her around and repeated the brutal act again until her whole body was bruised.

“That was for my brother, whore,” he growled into her ear, despite how limp her body was.

A glare from the illusionist silenced him, and they knew they were overstaying their welcome in Qeynos.

With a nod, the rogue led them through the shadows and back outside the city.


Will you scream and suffer and lie to save your life?
Her whole body hurt, a numbing sensation of pain, as if she were one giant bruise. The sensations made her want to keep her eyes closed, the memories of what happened washing over her as her mind awoke.

Opening her eyes, she saw the small campfire first. Slowly, her eyes focused on the shape just beyond it, shock grasping her mind once more.

It was Tarack, sittings as he did whenever he meditated, except instead of the familiar and calming expression she knew from this stance she saw a cruel and Hateful sneer.

His eyes snapped open, and she felt a chill wash down her spine. They were cruel, and so dark with malice she wanted to cry. Looking into his eyes, it was clear to her what he intended to do.

Standing, he slowly walked around the fire to where she lay, his hands reaching down to pull her up. Lips twisting into an even darker smile, he lifted her up onto her feet. Pain exploded in her body, but before she could fall over, the first of his strikes landed against her, forcing her body upward slightly.

Reeling, another strike connected with her side, knocking the wind from her as she began to fall again. His hand was suddenly against her chest, holding her up as the other lashed out against her arm. Still grinning that sickening smile, he looked into her eyes as he swept her feet from beneath her, his hand slipping up to her neck and gripping tightly.

Clawing as best she could at his hands, staring terrified into his cold eyes, she began coughing and tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. He continued to use his free hand to pummel her.

No one here is, fearful of this anger deep inside.
They were deep inside Nektulos forest, and even the other wild dark elves had left them alone, watching from a distance as the bruiser continued to beat the half elf that had caused them such great losses.

She was terrified, and her fear only fed the Hatred they felt.


Love you to pass away, and I bleed more…
Bleed more…
The instinct to live kicked in and she reached for him, her nails digging into flesh as she tried to get a grip on him. His grasp on her throat was tight enough to keep her choking but loose enough to keep her from passing out – between the lack of air and the constant strikes from his free hand, there was little she could do to fight against him.

Bruises began to open from their pressures, blood spilling over his hand and once again staining the bright white wraps of his arm. The sight seemed to spur him on, and again he grinned at her, all light and warmth gone from the motion.


You want love forever and so you take away my freedom
Finally, he dropped her, and her battered body collapsed like a rag doll on the ground. The twisted grin still bright upon his face, the dark elf monk walks back to the fire and sits down to meditate once more – his face remains cruel and darkened, so unfamiliar and distant from what she knew of him.

Head swimming, she tried to imagine what she could have done to anger him like this. All she had been doing the last few weeks was redecorating their home, and experimenting with her cooking techniques with an occasional visit to the Thundering Steppes to stretch her muscles.

Unless…he knew about her first adventure back into the Steppes, though she didn’t know how he would have found out about that.

With eyelids fluttering, she gave into the darkness tugging on her mind…

I'm screaming why are you hurting me
She awoke to a burst of pain as his foot connected with her side, the sound of cracking bone echoing in her ears. He reached down and picked her up once more, hauling her by the back of the neck to a nearby tree; there he stood her upright, and tied her against the tree so that she would not fall again.

Looking up into his eyes, she could only see a burning hate reflected back at her. The quite calm, the silent caring and distant love had evaporated, leaving him only with the cold and harsh comfort of Hatred.

He began to strike her again, the first connecting with her shoulder and the second quickly following into her side. As the pain exploded and the bruises there opened up to release their blood and ease their pressure, she screamed and began to cry.

She couldn’t understand what had happened, why he was beating her with no remorse. Had the forest of Nektulos actually called up the Hate within his blood again, turning him back to the darkness he’d left so many years ago? What had she done to him to cause this?

I feel your hard knuckles, but I'm too scared to run.
Time and again, she felt his fists and palms slam into her body, sometimes realizing that he kicked her as well. She’d already picked out the rhythm of his strikes, and wondered why it was so out of synch with what she had witnessed of his fighting style.

Perhaps the anger and Hate had disrupted him so deeply that it had thrown off his natural rhythms as well. The chaotic sense of timing frightened her, but there was little she could do to escape now.

After what seemed like an eternity, the strikes stopped and she was left with the eerie silence of the forest and the faint ringing in her ears. She’d stopped being able to feel anything from the neck down quite some time ago, but she knew that most of her body was bruised, bleeding and broken.

Quit laughing, don't choke me, my body's going numb
His hand wrapped around her throat, slowly tightening its grip as he leered over her. As she began to choke, he chuckled once before covering her mouth with his own, further cutting off her air supply. The kiss was harsh, almost unfamiliar and alien to her, and for a moment she wondered if it was even Tarack at all.

Pulling away, the last thing she saw before the world went dark was his cruel blue eyes and sadistic smile.


Before I take this rope off the child I stole away…
Reaching out to untie the woman, the illusionist let his disguise fall away, revealing the ebon skinned dark elf he truly was. He was quite content with his work, smiling like a cat that ate the canary while it’s master was away.

He paused, feeling some flicker of unfamiliar magical energy coming towards him. The phantasmal energy struck him hard in the back, and he turned to see an ancient man in a dark robe standing just beyond the campfire. The mage carried a simple staff, but the power that radiated from him was far greater than the illusionist had ever felt within his own body.

Snarling, the illusionist launched his own attack at the other man, his eyes widening in terror as the energies splashed against a protective barrier like water against a stone.

It pierced me with the blade; I fear it's too late to be saved
The ancient mage smiled darkly, summoning forth a spectral blade of energy that cut through the air between them; the phantasmal dagger struck true into the dark elf’s chest, dispersing and wrapping its dark energies about the illusionist. Energy crackled along his blackened skin, swiftly searing his flesh from his bones without any effort.

Carefully, the old mage hobbled over to the tree and took out a small dagger, carefully cutting away the ropes. As the woman fell forward, he uttered a spell that lifted her from the ground and to his side. Having already dealt with the other wild Thexians, the old man began the slow journey towards Port Naythox. A shimmering portal opened before them, and without even looking up, the old man and the floating woman vanished into the gate.


[OOC: Lyrics are Kidnapped by Kramus, though they've been slimmed down to cut back on redundancy.]