Rising Shadows

Rising Shadows

Postby Rance » Mon Aug 04, 2003 10:44 am

It had all started with a few simple words.

The week had been a long, restless one. It was a task of complete patience, that ritual -- by the third day, voice had fallen into hoarse, labored whispers, and his stomach was gargling relentlessly for the fine wines of his heritage. But still he wove, and still he spoke. With every pharse, though, he could feel the ritual's end coming just that much closer. They were assenting to him, agreeing to his terms, and harvesting their brethern masses at his will.

On the sixth sleepless day, the parasite was harboring his every function -- it was feeding him with its power, was renewing a weary mind through delerious promises. Numbers had grown from hundreds to millions, and still, he had been speaking. Questions and bartering would not end until the final day. .. If it did, progress would be shattered. He would be left to enact the summoning from its very beginning, and the dark elf would be loathe to reduce himself to such failure.

On the seventh day, however -- the versary of a week -- he had murmured that last word, and the earth above him shuttered with agreement.

Millions upon millions of them were rushing to the surface from where, over the course of the week, they had prepared themselves for their sacrificial flight. One moment, the night had been peaceful and serene -- holy, almost. The next, a storm of black was arising from the cracks in the soil and the niches in long-dead trees. Arachnid whirlwinds tore through Myrken Wood, were borne in the midst of forests and the flats of plains. A plague of arachnids revealed themselves from every nook and every crack, not pausing to bite or feed, but instead to converge upon the closest rendezvous -- it was there that, without hesitation, they were thrown into the sky, streaming streaks of webbing in their wake.

Not a droplet of rain fell during the storm, but it was almost unnatural, the way that those countless spiders were hurtled into the night sky.

Strands of threadbare filament were woven together thousands of feet above Myrken's fields and villages, and jagged legs were interlocked within one another. The art was impossibly perfect -- the numbers of the disgorged spiders were caught amidst their own webs, and a canopy of black soon stole away a glimpse of the moon and its loyal stars. There was no silver radiance, nor were there gossamer clouds to be seen against the halo of Luna herself. There was nothing -- the Mryken Wood firmament had been drowned in an organic, teeming shadow of black.

Daylight became the consistency of night -- there were
the vagrant streaks of sunlight here and there, but heat was exchanged for humid coolness. The flies were already starting to swarm in larger amounts, without their dreaded spider pursuers. Weevils and caterpillars began an uninterrupted feast upon crop-leaves and bushels.

Quincy, the paladin -- they had both been poisoned. Now, night had fallen, and blue skies did not rise -- it was the newest chapter, and Audmathus would turn its pages with blood-stained fingers, just to keep writing in that thick, morbid ink.
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Panic?

Postby Rattrap » Tue Aug 05, 2003 7:29 am

Doctor David D'Rael watched the spiders fly with a bland expression, standing just outside the door to the Rememdium Edificium. Arms were crossed, hands folded into the opposite arm's crook of the elbow. His look turned to one of curiosity, brow lifted above the other appropriately, as he watched the eight-legged animals go airborne.

"You just don't see that often."

David turned away from the swirling masses, returning to the building that was itself being vacated of the creatures. A pity, he thought. There's going to be one hell of an increase in flies now...

He had to prepare; the cloud was obviously going to cause hysteria. Public panic without any light; injuries were as guaranteed as time's movement forward. People would be breaking themselves, cutting themselves...people would complain of illnesses from spider bites, regardless of whether or not they had any...

It simply wasn't a good time to live in Myrken Wood. But David did, and he was going to make the best of it.

[line][/line]

"Harvest what you can, as fast as you can! I don't care where it goes, just get it inside!"

Joseph O'Cynen had been around long enough and had been farming, certainly, long enough, to know that spiders were a farmer's friend. It was alarming to watch them all fly, for a number of reasons. Most noted by the farmer and councilor was the coming onslaught of crop-eating bugs that would follow. Quickly.

It was with this in mind that Joseph and the rest of his household - a total of about twelve adults and half as many children - were tending to the fields at a rather frenzied pace, quickly losing light. The children fetched torches when it become too dark to adequately see, and they did the best they could.

"Francis, start loading up the crates - Kenneth, get the hides!"

Despite their best efforts, they'd end up losing quite a bit of their harvest. Not instantly; bugs weren't that fast. But Joseph had a feeling, that by the end of the next couple of days, food growth would be drastically reduced.

The councilor didn't even want to imagine what would happen to them all if they didn't get the sun back soon.

[line][/line]

Damien thought it was sort of odd, walking through Myrkentown, that it was still dark. He'd gone to sleep at some ungodly hour, and he felt quite rested now - so he doubted that he awoke early enough to beat the sunrise. Besides, there wasn't a star in the sky to be seen. Oh, hey, look, a streak of sun...

That's interesting.

It took the man a moment to come up with the wonderful idea of listening to the peoples' screams and shouts as they ran back and forth in quite the hysteria. Spiders blocking the sky, eh? Eternal night, eh?

Damien chuckled. Well. He might as well have some fun while it's there...

[line][/line]

Harry was confused at the sight off in the distance. It looked kind of like a sand storm from back home, only this was certainly wasn't sand...far too dark. Not only that, his homeland dust storms didn't funnel up into a massive cloud and just sit in the sky.

He had a bad feeling about that -- the boy guessed that wasn't something he wanted to be under. North suddenly didn't have so much appeal; but he'd keep going that way anyway, perhaps veering a ways east to avoid whatever town or valley that unnatural-looking cloud was over.

Then again, who's to say it was unnatural? Perhaps this area just...had that sometimes...Harry didn't know. And he had yet to meet another human being to tell him otherwise.

At least there were rabbits around. He'd kept himself going for four meals now on rabbit meat.

Not exactly all that tasty, but stranded strangers can't be choosers.
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Postby Tyralor » Tue Aug 05, 2003 9:22 am

"Flying dung. This can't be good." Was the bulk of Lt. Kilborn's reaction. A grimace of distaste at the number of spiders that'd taken off and made themselves scarce.

It certainly had benefits and downsides. His nose had gotten a bit of a sunburn the other day. One of the few days it hadn't rained this summer. There wasn't much of a chance of that now. It would certainly be cool, in and around Myrkentown for the next little while.

Farmers were likely to panic. Flies may or may not get worse. They never seemed quite as active at night as they were during the day, buzzing around like crazy. With no sunlight to guide their activity, they might actually decrease. Certainly it'd prevent horse dung from heating up and attracting them as much. Nonetheless, he'd have to get the militia to undertake the delightful duty of shovelling the dung from the street and carting it out of the immediate area. Cleansliness was going to be key for a while.

The downside of course, would be the mass hysteria. The Fates only knew how the populace would take it. One had to wonder what steps Bromn would undertake, if any, to calm the public. And after that, what suggestions he'd make to remove the cretins from the sky. Kilborn certainly didn't have any suggestions.

Unless there were a bunch of mages that could fly around and burn the entire lot of them.

There was only one thing that he needed to do.

Crowd control, as usual, seemed to fall to his shoulders. So out into the general vincinity of the headquarters he strolled, and began issuing orders. Once again, the Order of Straka would be out in the street, in force. This time just parading around as though everything was normal, and it was completely expected.

Two rumours, would be passed around by the guardsmen as well. If nothing else, it would provide a nice suitable distraction from the horror, and get people wondering about it. Hardly mattered that they were contradictory.

* * * * *

"Aye Mrs O'Flannigan. S'what I heard. 'Em horde sorts managed ta pull off some 'eavy sorcery to spook us."

"Well it's working!"

"Ain't no doubt some people are panickin. Fer me, just doing me job. I'm certain the council itself is lookin ta 'ire a mage of their own to undo the sorcery."

"I hope they hop to it. Of all the nerve. Spook us. They show up here, I'll give them a good spooking!"

"s'what I like to 'ear Mrs. O'Flannigan"

* * * * *

"For the sake of the One God. How can you be parading about like it is just some ordinary day?"

"Our pardon, most humble Merchant Devenice. But it is just an ordinary day."

"What? There are spiders all over the sky. They're flying! They're blocking out the sun!"

"Of course they are."

"Spiders don't fly! What in the name of the One God is going on?"

"Our humblest apologies. We had been under the impression most people knew."

"Knew what, Private?"

"A cadre of mages the council hired, most polite sir."

"What. You mean this was planned?"

"That is the impression our most noble of Councils has dictated to us."

"You are kidding, right?"

"I am not fond of spiders, let alone spiders in the sky. Ordained by the Coucil or no, I find this no laughing matter."

"The Council did this on purpose? Why?"

"My imagination is not broad and creative. I can only assume it has been done to counter the dragons the Horde has set upon us once already, Most perceptive Merchant."

"The Dra...well. I suppose that makes sense then. Why didn't they tell us?"

"I had thought they did."

"Must've missed that. Tarnations. Sorry for taking your time Private."

"It is our pleasure to serve. May your day be wonderous."


* * * * *

Not, everything went according to plan. There would be those that simply didn't believe the guardsmen, or react in a positive manner. Fortunately, word tended to spread swiftly, and sooner, rather than later, people were arguing over who put the spiders in the sky, and why, rather than, panicking cause there were spiders in the sky.

As for Kilborn himself, a letter, requesting an explanation as to why there were spiders in the sky, and why the Order wasn't notified this was going to happen, was sent post haste to, the council members.
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Ending, Beginning, and Opportunity

Postby Rattrap » Thu Aug 07, 2003 4:48 am

Allen had been, like most others, quite alarmed by the display of the flying bugs. He himself never really had a problem with spiders, really, but he certainly had a problem with that many of them. Flying multitudes, no less. But he was apt to find, quickly, that they were benign in their flight, except perhaps for the end result of the bizarre display.

The sun and sky were gone. Natural light was gone; panic began. But for Allen, this was an opportunity - one he'd been waiting for some time, and one that he would waste not even seconds taking advantage of.

It was time to get out; and with the hysteria, the lack of light, the chaos in general...there was no better time.

Walking calmly down a cobblestone lane, Allen followed a large wagon as it headed through town. It took a turn down a deserted street, and it was then that the driver didn't notice the slight increase of weight behind him.

[line][/line]

The airborne balloon creaked with every gust that hit it. The large contraption was covered in spikes around its somewhat squished spherical shape, but more for show than anything else - for one, they were hollow, without much weight to them. Secondly, zeppelins didn't make good ramming vehicles anyway.

The deck hanging below the pouch was responsible for the creaking; wood and iron forged together to make a suitable flying ship, propelled by a stroke of gnomish genius in propeller and mechanical design, made so that all one had to do was run in a wheel to move the ship in some direction.

But there weren't gnomes on the ship, and domesticated animals were doing the running. The pilot at the front of the ship, wearing the very dark glasses, was almost distinctly green - something gnomes weren't known for. Also, he was quite distinctly goblinish, another trait that passed the gnomish gene pool.

And just one of his companions was running around in circles on the deck, pointing at the giant arachnid cloud looming in front of them yelping in a very distinctly goblinish high tone.

"Stone Stone! Loooook ooouuuut!"

"Shuddap, Shout! He can see, y'know," came yet a third, one that was considerably bulkier than the other two.

The rhythmic beat coming from below the deck had finally stopped, letting the three know that a fourth was coming up to speak - he was always making some kind of noise, unless he wanted something. And sure enough, the big green-eared fellow popped open the hatch and stuck his head out, calling to the others.

"We're all out of foooood!"

"I s'ppose we'd better land, then," noted the larger one.

Stone, the pilot, took that as a queue to suddenly dip the zeppelin at a dangerous angle down. Of course, one should keep in mind that 'sudden' for a zeppelin is actually a pretty long time - enough for the larger goblin to walk calmly to the railing to find a handhold, and the fourth to drop back down below deck. The running one - Shout - took no notice, and eventually tumbled towards the helm as the ship tilted downwards.

He hit the railing, bounced, and flew off the ship with a loud, "Aaaeieeeeeeee...!!!"

Stone said nothing or made no move to stop his companion - whether or not he even blinked was hard to say with his glasses on. The large goblin - Smash - said nothing as well, but at least made the courtesy gesture of watching Shout fall -- into Silver Lake, conveniently enough. Stone did know what he was doing, after all...

"Hey hey, there's a forest clearing...not too shabby. Not too far from town, neither!"

The vessel continued creaking as it descended from the sky.

[line][/line]

"Cap'n...Thomas. I gotta talk teh yeh."

Captain Thomas Daniels glanced up from his desk at Corporal Robert Sullivan, who looked lacking his normal no-nonsense attitude...in fact, he looked a little altogether serious, and it put Thomas at a slight unease - there had been only a few times that he could remember Robert in that light.

"What's...wrong?"

"You of all people, I 'ope, 'll understand what I'm doin'...I've spent most of m' life in this 'ere Myrkentown...an' I've given most of my life back to i'. But now...it's gettin' t' be too much. The most important thing in my life's in danger every moment now, an' it's tearin' me up."

"...Serena?"

The corporal just nodded, and withdrew a neatly folded and trimmed piece of parchment, tossing it lightly on the desk.

"'S my resignation. We're goin' to Derry, stay with my sister fer a lil' while till I can find m'self a good payin' job over there."

"Robert..."

"...if anyone can pull Myrkent' outta the ditch it's in, 's you."

"I think your faith's a little misplaced. Kilborn's doing more than I am, and --"

"Eh. Kilborn does things too much b' the book. Investigatin'll do the job, sure, but beatin' answers outta 'em works faster. 'Sides, it's more fun."

The captain just sort of blinked; Robert had been with him for almost his entire life -- step brothers, in every way but officially. They had always joked around as little kids about dying together saving the world from some monstrous beast or something legendary like that.

Neither ever imagined their parting would happen like this.

"If yeh ever find yerself a vacation, come visit...until then, ferewell, Thomas."

Robert unhooked the saber from his belt, sheath and all, laying it down on the desk near the resignation letter. With that, he turned around and left.
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