Deomin's Deeds

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Postby Eric Holland » March 2nd, 2010, 11:50 pm

Walking through the Streets of Skyclave, Deomin happens upon a small shrine dedicated to the god Ioun. The shrine sits in a meditation chamber with mats laid out for visitors to kneel upon. Placed upon small shelves along the perimeter of the walls sit a multitude of candles of different colors and shapes. In the welcoming glow of the candles Deomin enters and sits on a mat. He dismisses the winds that follow him in respect for the reverent place. The head monk presiding over the worship smiles at Deomin and acknowledges him with a slight nod.

Deomin settles in for a good think and sits quietly in reverie for a short while. In the midst of his relaxation, Deomin feels a tap on his shoulder. He looks up to see the head monk standing over him with a bit of a stern look on his face. Without saying a word the monk points to the candles on the wall and shakes his head. Deomin follows the gesture and realizes that in his meditative state the winds had returned and blown out several of the candles lining the walls. Initially Deomin wonders how the monk knew he was the culprit, but one glance around the room filled with white robed monks makes it pretty obvious. Deomin bows his head in apology and cuts the wind as several other monks quickly relight the extinguished wicks.

Deomin returns to his meditation and the peaceful atmosphere brings uplifting thoughts to his mind; rising to the surface like bubbles in a flute of crisp champagne. Calmed, Deomin appreciates the wonderful contrast of his meditation compared to recent unexpected events. Deomin ponders once again on the message given to him by the Seldarine back in Airspur he…another tap on the shoulder.

This time it is Deomin who is frusterated as he rises from his reflections. The blustery elf stands to meet an angry glare smoldering on the face of a head monk who is very put out. Over half the candles have been blown out and now there is hell to pay. An argument breaks out between the head monk and Deomin on the virtues of respecting ones patrons vs. the importance of hospitality to visitors. The raucous scene is further exacerbated by a crew of five monks scrambling to relight the candles as a few more puff out. The argument reaches a crescendo and suddenly the climax. Deomin snaps his fingers in the monks face and a gust extinguishes the remaining candles. Immediately he turns on his heel and storms out of the door. Jumping up and down the old monk shouts something about candles that have been burning for hundreds of years. ”Whatever,” thinks Deomin as he goes to relocate the group. The rest of the day Deomin is quite grouchy.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » March 11th, 2010, 6:17 pm

Deomin lies on his back looking at the ceiling of their posh new dwelling. The couch underneath him is so fluffy he feels that it might swallow not only his loose change, but every single worldly possession he owns. In the background he hears the tic-toc of a magically powered clock sitting on the mantle of their magical fireplace. The clock reads 12:15, just after curfew. *Sigh*. Hugh sits on similarly overstuffed furniture checking for the 4th time that his personally crafted arrows are perfectly straight. He would probably get to sharpening them if they weren’t razor sharp already.

“Lets get out of here.” Says Deomin.

“Its only been 3 hours.” Replies Hugh. “We really should be better at the downtime thing. Besides, we’ve been busy all day. Why don’t you do some of that meditation?”

Deomin pops to his feet and stretches. “I can’t. I’m not in the mood. The city is huge but I need some open air. How do I always feel like I’m inside when this building is like a mile wide?”

Hugh replaces the arrow carefully in his quiver. “I know what you mean. With all the tricks and conjurations it feels a bit artificial at times.” A gleam in his eye he looks at Deomin. ”Did you have anything in mind?”

Deomin begins to pace furiously.”I need to feel a breeze! There isn’t enough air in here….Wait.” Deomin stops short and flashes Hugh a mischievous grin. “How about a spot with a view?”

Hugh catches Deomins drift and they immediately strap on a few weapons, leaving armor at home for extra stealth. The rest of the party is either out or asleep as Hugh and Deomin slip out into the night and begin their ascent to the top of Skyclave.

Deomin takes to the rooftops and balconies that overhang the quiet streets. Hugh keeps to the shadows stepping quickly from building, to alley, to awning. The duo is ever mindful of cover and making less noise than the small dragonflies that flit about the dark streets of Skyclave. They make their way invisibly past residential, market, and business districts. Deomin watches out for any sort of magical alarms and elevated watchmen while Hugh indicates the direction of ground patrols.

Very few of the guards sense their passing and the ones who do are easily misdirected by a well tossed pebble or strange breeze from an opposing direction. One guard seemed to tail them for a few blocks, but with a little effort and some retracing of steps they managed to shake his pursuit. After two hours the pair emerges onto a gangway leading out to where redwings dock during daylight hours. The overlook is fifty yards below the peak of Skyclave and they decide that it is the perfect spot for a little R&R. Dangling their feet over the edge and peering fearlessly at the disorienting drop below them they exchange a few laughs and break out the supplies. A well packed pipe and hefty flask are being passed around when they hear a sharp knock behind them. Turning slowly they see Brandis exit from the tunnel giving the wall a few raps with his gauntleted hand to announce his presence.

“We heard you coming you know…” says Deomin jokingly.

“Id believe that If I hadn’t ever tasted the brew Hugh keeps in his flask. I was the one tailing you guys for a bit back there. Slippery buggers.”

Brandis plops down to join the nightmen and takes a strong swig from the flask.

”That’s the good stuff” he remarks,

”Reminds me of this swill a half ogre sold me near Rashemen. That shit was potent! Hmmm…I later found out that the ogre had wanted to drug me with it, but whatever he used ended up making a mighty fine libation!”
Deomin and Hugh sit in absolute comfort as they hear another chunk of Brandis’ exploits. The events flow into one another in such a seamless way that they almost sense is a hidden story in the background. Something more that exists between the lines of the fighters many deeds.
The night continues and smoke blowing competitions begin between Deomin and Brandis giving Hugh a chance to reflect for a moment. Turning to Deomin he asks,”What of your exploits? I wager the world was a different place when the edge of a cliff still meant a long fall to the bottom.”

Deomin laughs and speaks a little bit about his past.”Before I met you I was a bit of a lone wolf, but I can’t say I’ve had no mentors in my life. I was trained by the same man for over thirty years...most of the things I know can be traced back to him in some way. He helped me to survive, but he never taught me how to live. Looking back I don’t believe that I lived very well. The world was a grey place and I was always so tense. The new me is a gift. I can’t explain how I feel different, but I do.” He gestures to Hughs bowstring,”Even a good bowstring will break with lots of use. The tension wears it down.”
Hugh nods and Brandis seems to appreciate a little more history, but before the situation gets any drier he swigs again and says,”Lets talk about what really shapes a man!” The following hour is full of firsts. First woman, first kill, first drink, first battle.

Brandis, excited for his idea, launches into the story of the first lady he bedded. Some graphic details are forthcoming when suddenly he stops and realizes that this is the story of his fifth woman. He tries a few more times to get at his firsts, but ends up bogged down in a complex chronology that would rival the history of a small country.
Deomin's stories all come from his bounty hunting era. His old master, Hirson, scrapped him off the streets of a backwoods town in Narfell and in a matter of years they were fighting, trapping, and running from everything to women, churches and tax collectors. Deomin feels good about the reminiscing and as he shares it seems as if he is appreciating his own stories for the first time in his life.

Hugh surprises Deomin and Brandis with his stories. Here was a man truly in touch with his origins. The simplicity and detail of events that gave Hugh his start were quotidian stories that could have been told around any campfire in Faerun. Yet here was Hugh Weaver, an extraordinary warrior on an unique trail in the midst of momentous events. Hearing the stories was grounding and very real. It made them all contemplate the unpredictable events that brought them together.
Sitting on the overlook and starring out into space, the three were greeted by a beautiful sunrise; A reddish glow that breached the horizon to send rays of pure light racing across the landscape.

Brandis stands and offers his final thoughts, “Been a very long time since I have adventured with the same group twice. Great powers are at work here. There has been a whispering with us since we met at the glade. Have you felt it? I believe our destinies are calling to us. Fate is different. Most men are dragged screaming to their fates, but destiny requires active seeking.”

As Hugh and Brandis move back toward the entrance Deomin leans over the edge considering the fun of a massive plunge into the aether. Lingering for a second he instead stands up, brushes himself off, and says to himself, “Another day.” This morning he would rather head back with his friends.
Eric Holland
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Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » March 11th, 2010, 6:20 pm

Hugh wrote some great additional material for the collaboation post, but there wasnt space to work it in smoothly. Here are the words Hugh shared with Brandis and Deomin at the top of Skyclave about his firsts.

Hugh’s first time with a woman was when he was seventeen. Her name was Mira Tanner and she was the daughter of the tanner in Cedar Grove where Hugh was from. Hugh sold hides and skins to her father, and occasionally she would help run the store. She took a shine to Hugh maybe because he wasn’t one of the same few boys who were always in town. So after a few secret walks with a lot of sweet talk and handholding, Hugh took Mira to little place where a meandering stream fell a few yards over the rocks of a secluded valley. He brought bottle of wine, and without too much convincing he talked her out of her clothes, and they spent a pleasurable afternoon in the sun by the stream. Eventually Mira’s father heard that the two were spending time together and he put a stop to it because he didn’t want his daughter ending up with Hugh who had no real prospects.

Hugh’s first time getting piss drunk was when he was fourteen. Tobias, a friend of Hugh’s deceased father, had been teaching Hugh for about two years. Hugh had killed his first big buck that wasn’t part of one of Tobias’s lessons, and he blew all the money he got from selling the meat, hide, and horns on two big bottles of brandy. He snuck it up to where his best friend Alan, Tobias’s son, was tending sheep. The two of them downed the liquor, each egging the other on to drink more, were royally sick, and then they fell asleep. They woke the next day, hungover as hell, to find the sheep had all wandered off, and it took two days before they managed to find all of them.

The first time Hugh killed a person (and by person I’m thinking someone of a player character race, not going to count orcs) was after he’d left Cedar Grove and was working as a caravan guard. It was late at night and Hugh was patrolling around the silent merchant wagons when he heard a slight sound from behind him. He turned to see the glint of a blade as a dark figure rushed toward him, and managed to call out “raid! raid!,” before the bandit was on him, and then he was fighting for his life. The two went down on the ground; the bandit had a hand around Hugh’s throat while he tried to skewer Hugh in the guts. Hugh fought with the man for his dagger with his left hand while trying to break the choking grasp with his right. This stalemate went on for a few agonizing seconds before Hugh abandoned the fight for his throat, drew his own dagger, and plunged it in the bandit’s chest a couple times. The bandit went limp on top of him, and Hugh fought his way up to help defend the camp. A few of the other guards had been taken unaware by the attack, but Hugh’s warning had alerted the rest of the guards, and the caravan awoke to repel the invading bandits. Seeing that their surprise attack had been thwarted, the bandits retreated after several minutes of fighting. Once it appeared that the threat was over Hugh made his way back to where he had been ambushed, and found that the man who’d attacked was still alive. Hugh’s dagger had taken him in the lung, and the man lay on the ground gurgling blood as he gasped for breath. Hugh looked into the man’s terror stricken and pleading eyes for a moment before taking a blade and ending the bandit’s misery. The next morning the leader of the caravan had the bodies of the dead attackers stripped and hung by the roadside as a warning to other would be raiders.

Enjoy Hugh fans.
Eric Holland
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Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » March 24th, 2010, 12:57 pm

Rushing, roaring, flowing. Deomin slices through the air like a knife as he plummets to the ground with unnatural acceleration. Kaylar beats her wings quickly fighting to keep up. She releases a small squawk of concern as Deomin outdistances her, but he is too troubled to notice.

Breathing deeply from the flowing air Deomin struggles against feelings of claustrophobia. The feeling have lurked in his mind since the events of last night. What would have been a minute of freefall is over in less than thirty seconds. Approaching the ground like a lightning bolt Deomin embraces danger. Drawing upon his powers of buoyancy at the last chance, Deomin changes his descent from an eagles dive to a feather fall. Shortly after landing, Kaylar joins Deomin on the ground. Stroking her wings to relieve confusion Deomin takes a moment to stare up at Skyclave. The building looks beautiful in the morning sun and the heights that it offers are exhilarating. Wondering for a moment on the deceptively large spaces inside Deomin kicks a stone to bring him back to reality and mounts up for a flight. He would be worried about leaving for a few days if he wasn’t so sure that his friends could handle themselves with the elegant and mysterious Imaskari. He will be back soon enough.

Deomin had originally thought to find a temple, but given what had happened at the shrine a few days back he simply wasn’t feeling like it. “Besides,” he thinks, “I don’t have time for conventional instruction.” Deomin wants answers quickly and seeks to circumvent the trial, error, and practice associated with learning from others.

Flying for half a day northeast of Skyclave Deomin locates a beautiful spot. On a high grassy hill stands a rough stone altar. There might have been carvings at one point but all such detail has been worn away by time and the elements. Now only natural beauty remains. Sparkles of quartz in the granite and waving lines of color from a variety of igneous rocks create a natural aesthetic that Deomin finds captivating. The altar sits perched on a hill overlooking a scenic valley. The hillside descends steeply far below to a basin where an open forest surrounds a calm lake on three sides. Birds circle the lake far below and few sounds besides the rushing wind can be heard.

Deomin releases Kaylar to hunt and sits on the altar watching her gracefully soar over the terrain and disappear into the woods. She deserves some time in the wild after running around between settlements. Happy that she can find some relief, Deomin prepares to mediate. He strips away all of his clothes save undergarments and sits basking in the sunlight. His chiseled frame and artistic skin are natural works of art that fit easily into the panorama surrounding him. Positioned upon the altar with legs crossed and face raised he focuses. His elbows rest on his knees and each finger meets its counterpart individually at the tips as if he were holding the world in his hands.

Nearly all of Deomin’s contemplations take place during mediation. Awake and moving he rarely focuses his thoughts analytically. Typically he flows with his feelings, his moods reacting to ever changing environments and motivations. With the opportunity to mediate he opens his mind and gives thoughts and words to his feelings. Deep breaths fill him with energy and the air around him is sweet and full of life. The semi-conscious state dampens his physical responses and quickens his mind and heart. A day passes and Deomin remains upon the altar, seated before the world as an offering to its wisdom.

Day and night pass again as the warrior continues in reverie. He sits perfectly still, bound to his purpose, patiently waiting. More hours pass and he perceives without seeing that the sky begins to darken. A voice, sweet and high, speaks to him.

“Greetings, Deomin of the Wind. You seek out holy places. Tell me of your troubles.”
Before him in the air stands a figure that he recognizes. It is Aerdrie Faenya of the Seldarine. She had visited him before during a vision in Airspur. He recognizes her instinctually though she appears different than before. Her appearance now is similar to his own. In shape her body looks Elven, but branching lines of blue energy weave a path upon her silver skin. Protruding from her head and hands, ice-blue crystals sparkle as she stares down upon Deomin through luminescent eyes.

“I thought you might appreciate this form. I want you to know you are not alone in this world.”

Images of his friends back in Skyclave pass through his mind as if placed there by someone else. He understands that he has loyal friends and appreciates.

“Thank you,” he says, relaxing immediately. “I did not know if I was deserving of support. Recently I am gripped by fear and confusion.” He pauses as she reads and deciphers his feelings. She motions for him to proceed.
“We are facing a powerful person. He is both friend and foe. His powers are strange to me…and terrifying.” Deomin’s memory drifts to the recent past as men dressed in red robes bleed out through their orifices. Faces are twisted in pain. Their pleas, “Help me.”

Aerdrie Faenya looks upon her servant with understanding.

Deomin speaks again, ”I have a strange ability to bring relief to others. It is more mysterious to me than the damage that I can also inflict. I understand it very little yet I am upset that I can do nothing for their trauma.” He refers to the dead students of Arath. Bound by some vicious arcane tool their imprisoned minds make them slaves to the sinister purposes of their master. Deomin fears nothing more than being trapped. Growing emotional Deomin continues to speak in a elevated tone.
“Where is their freedom? Is there no chance for escape? For all doors there must be a key. I will not face this man and be penned in like a herdbeast!”

After a moment Aerdrie speaks again. “Deomin of the Wind you posses not only the Storms of Destruction, but also the Breath of Life. All creatures are connected to the elements and you may connect yourself to them through the element that you possess. You have only just received your own freedom. Do you now try and free the world? It is a different matter entirely.”

Deomin ponders these words for a few moments, “You have sent me out to find others like myself. Am I only for them? What of others on my path? Are they of no consequence?" The words are heartfelt, and reveal Deomin’s genuine concern for his friends who he is commited to protect.

Aerdrie speaks with finality. “You are a seeker, but your quest is not to find all people. Your powers are yours and must be used as you see fit. If you improve your tools and reach a hand to others on your way it will be of your own work and effort. Nevertheless fear not your enemies, for your path is one of great importance and aid will be granted to you who we have entrusted.”

As Aerdrie’s smiling faces fades from view the sky lightens. The valley sprawls away from him. A single thought rises to the surface of his mind like an air bubble under the water. “Take courage.”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » April 9th, 2010, 10:00 pm

Out of the swirling shadow a face leans forward. Massive and terrible the Visage is so imposing that it commands through sheer presence alone. Words that press past the twisted fangs are grating though intelligent.

“Agents are abroad and events are beginning to take shape.” It says. The words come slowly but with such power that the single listener feels on edge, savoring every syllable.

It continues, “The keepers of time foresee much, but they do not act decisively enough. Their generals are still weak. Divided. You will seize the keystone and we will watch as their hope unravels into so much chaos.

A Dark Form kneels before the Visage. The revelation unfolds in a great stone chamber deep beneath the earth. A womb of shadow and darkness. This chamber sits apart from the world yet at the root of it. A place where order and chaos do battle. The foundation.

An image rises up from a font in the floor that swirls with black liquid. A warrior is revealed in the image. His form is muscled yet lithe. Hair swirls about his frame in an arcane breeze. The warrior is in combat dancing and flowing in graceful fashion. Some would think this being a flighty creature, flitting about on unpredictable winds.
The Dark Form is not deceived. He sees this warrior as one of order; connected inseparably with the fundamental elements that hold together the world and reality. A prisoner. Rising to its feet it addresses the Visage.

“What is its name?” it asks.

“Deomin” replies the Visage.

“I will show him freedom. The reign of chaos will come. That which is will be undone…and again.”

The Visage is pleased and retreats into the shadow. The Shadow exits the chamber and begins to rise, rise, and rise; up the long miles to the surface world. A place its inhabitants call Aglarond.
Eric Holland
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Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » April 18th, 2010, 6:01 pm

Deomin stands aft on the deck of the Laughing Maiden. The sun sets in the distance as thin clouds hover above, painted with the glowing hues of a dying day. Deomin reflects upon the end. He has not seen Kaylar in days yet feels her presence with him as he gazes upon the panorama. A being filled with emotion such as Deomin takes time to savor the different feelings that arouse in connection with the passing of a dear friend. At times loss weighs heavily on him and depression is evident. Slouching, head hanging low, at these times Deomin slowly plods along from task to task as the world around him moves forward.

Other times memories fill him with buoyancy and resolve. Images in his heart of their great adventures fill him with levity and render him immune to the ills of reality. In these moments Deomin races about with a zest that causes people to stare.

Grief and elation. Abandonment and connection. The gradient of sentiments that flow through Deomin make him a visible representation of the spectrum of emotion. The possibilities of feeling.

The aftermath of Kaylars death is lived out in plain view for people around Deomin. Some gain new perspective on forces behind their own actions. The crew becomes more conscious in these days of the emotions at the center of each of their own lives. Those who had lost friends and crewmates begin to look differently at the process of losing and letting go.

Deomin considers himself fortunate. In the midst of painful feelings, he knows the opportunity for love is not something to regret. In his case he has been rewarded an unexpected boon for it. To be haunted by the lingering spirit of his most loyal friend is not a gift that he would have even thought to ask for.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Back in Airspur discord is sown. In a dark musty corner of the basement at the Airsteppers guild the body of Telev, a friend and mentor of Deomin, is found. The body hangs from a wall-mounted candelabrum, impaled like a side of beef on a meat hook. The features on Telev’s face are disfigured and tortured, scarred by a blade that appeared to burn and corrupt as it cut. Telev was a valued and experienced member of the guild community. The heinous crime that ended his life shatters his immediate circle. A small funeral cannot begin to assuage the broken feeling that his close family and friends would have for years. Investigation of the crime produces nothing. No reason or purpose can be determined. Some are set adrift by the loss, never to recover.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » April 29th, 2010, 3:20 pm

The long voyage at sea has ended. No more fresh ocean breeze or spray of blue water. Deomin misses the brash sailors’ jargon and camaraderie of shipmates on board. The feeling changes as images of splintering wood and dying sailors flash into his mind. A shiver runs down his spine. He surfaces from his memories and returns to the present, hungry for a good meal. One thing Deomin wont miss is the endless supply of fish and rock biscuit. The potatoes never taste better either.

On the trail to Caradoon, Deomin hunts for fresh food. Stepping through the forrest he feels serene. Through dense underbrush and dangling creepers a sylvan stage unfolds. Thick canopy and soft moss frame his view. Light filters through the leaves and sheds an ambient green glow over the scene. A pervasive quiet rests over the vista. Gradually, music permeates the scene with clicks, chirps and buzzes. The stage is sleepy and few actors show themselves. A small badger enters left and roots at the base of a birch. He is persistent and solid. Sparrows pierce the canopy and perch on the branches like pews in a church. They converse excitedly about local events of great import.

At last a doe, the protagonist, lazily wanders toward center stage. Beige and sleek, she surveys the setting with her large dark eyes. Deomin holds his breath. Pawing the ground she stoops to sample the grass. The doe raises her long neck she cautiously steps forward when suddenly a loud knock frightens her. Fleeing the commotion, the deer escapes into the underbrush.

Stepping out silently from behind a tree Deomin surveys the stage one last time. Raising his bow and glancing at a few tracks he disappears into the foliage. The hunt must go on!
Eric Holland
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Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » May 6th, 2010, 1:58 pm

Another gust of chill wind blows across Deomins chapped face as he and the party rounds yet another bend in their path through the mountains. Across the unending landscape of rock, ice and snow their path isn’t a path at all. Mountaineer Stallo has set a course that leads the companions across glaciers, deep ravines and sheer ice walls. No trace of civilization is ever seen and their presence is erased from existence within minutes of their passing.

Because of their remote location, Deomin is surprised when he sees a large stone building up ahead. In his exhausted state his face reflects none of this surprise. His only reaction is to look despondently back at his friends for recognition of the discovery. Communication in this tired state takes place solely though glances and after a moment Deomin turns and continues onward towards the structure.

Weary but wary, Deomin draws his swords and falls into a more balanced step. He would love to find a warm hearth and a kind soul inside the building, hell even an abandoned house would be welcome. Residents of these mountains however, seem exclusively of the eat-you, trap-you or trample-you-to-death variety. As he nears the building his senses heighten, but the clean mountain air brings him much less information than that of…wait.

Fumes reeking of spoiled meat and rotten cloth fills Deomin's nose. The repulsive stench of trolls can be detected even in the most airy of locations. There is little time to prepare. A massive icy figure strides out of the giant door and turns the corner to face Deomin. Shrieks above him alert him to other threats, but it seems that whatever they are, Aurora and Brandis would be the targets. Deomin gazes up at the troll’s twisted yellow teeth and sickly green eyes. It smiles at him from its wicked mouth and peers at him over a warty nose as greasy black hair falls across its face. Ten feet tall, sinewy muscles, massive war maul, none of this registers with Deomin. All Deomin sees is something evil, hostile, and in the way.

Exaustion departs as instinct takes over. Attunement with his body and weapons is perfect. Movements are both graceful and fierce. Darting in quickly Deomin bends low allowing the maul to pass over his head. Muscles taught he springs high following the sweep and slashes at the Troll’s forearms and wrists. Winds of destruction follow the warrior’s attacks and swirl around the Troll increasing the damage. Paying the wounds no mind the vile creature raises its war maul overhead to squash Deomin with a downward swing.

Deomin steps and flows around the clumsy troll’s awkward attacks. Within seconds wind and blade leave a dozen of slices on the troll’s meaty arms. A glance overhead shows Hugh being carried away by some sort of winged ice creature. The stink of hot troll breath brings him back to his own fight as the troll begins to combine swings of his maul with swipes from his gnarled claws. Deomin takes a hit but rolls with it and puts enough distance between himself and the troll to avoid a second blow. Furious with the ugly monster the ranger pops to his feet and closes once more. A flurry of slashes and stabs overcome the troll. It tries to regain the offensive, but the hits are relentless. Even in stupidity, the troll realizes that his regenerative abilities can’t keep up with his wounds.

Deomin drops to his knees ducking a grab and slides across the ice beneath the troll. He jams the Sword of Air into the troll’s calf and sinks it up to the hilt. Bellowing in pain the troll raises the maul to swing between his legs. Too slow. Pushing off the blade implanted in the brute’s leg Deomin slides to the left and hamstrings the other leg. As the troll’s legs collapse Deomin stands and impales the falling body on his remaining sword.

A quick breath and Deomin notes that the wounds on the felled troll are already closing. Deomin calls to Wrenn who is hosing down a flying ice creature with infernal flames, “You must burn the troll! Its wounds are recovering!”
Deomin starts to dig his blades out of the fallen troll, but as he removes the first, disaster strikes. Lodged in the troll’s chest, Deomin's jagged scimitar was the only thing keeping it down. As it yanks free the troll's eyes open and soon it towers over Deomin preparing a death blow.

A back flip saves Deomin’s life. The head of the maul slams into Deomins thigh at the level where his head was a second before. Deomin flies ten feet and flops down in a drift of snow. Ouch. He raises an eye to see Hugh put the beast down again with an arrow in the chest. Oil is poured onto its corpse and soon smoke rises from its mangled corpse. Exhaustion sets in again and Deomin limps inside the dwelling. Gone is the vigor of battle and the hatred that kept him going. He leans against a wall and falls asleep standing, blades held tight in his hands.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » May 20th, 2010, 6:55 pm

Battle consumes the Philosophers temple. Scorching blasts and concussive bursts of arcane force fly through the chaos. Heat from the endless explosions wash across the battlefield bathing the earth in flames. Infernal beasts and wicked men press their advantage, burning homes and slaughtering at will. Amid the anarchy, a small burst of order fights to end the madness. Warriors challenge the pandemonium as the music of battle rings out over the temple grounds.

Arrows sizzle, passing over, around and through the assailants as Hugh plucks his string in deadly staccato. The percussion of a hammer rhythm beats tirelessly, fueled by the divine performance of Arora. Of all the instruments of death on the field of battle only one makes no sound at all.

Dancing lightly across the field Deomin works his blades cutting through every foe in his path. A vicious enchantment on one sword leaves jagged cuts of torn flesh with every stroke. The other, known to Deomin as the Sword of Air, does far deadlier work. Lighter than a writing quill it moves like lightning as it weaves patterns of merciless death. The sword is perfectly silent as cuts through the air from which it was wrought.

Coincidence has placed this rare blade in the hands of the warrior of wind, but its creation was far from accidental. Techniques that grant this blade its unnatural edge are unknown to any smith in the material plane. Forged by Djin craftsmen deep in the elemental chaos, weapons of elemental power are created only under extreme conditions.
Each weapon is as much a work of art as a martial tool. Pieces are jealously guarded by their smith as part of an ever-growing collection.

Hundreds of years ago a mighty Djin essence smith raised his arms in triumph at the completion of his latest work. After days of elemental combat and physical exertion at his essence forge the Djin Balondaris crafted a mighty blade of wind. Ernashthaxis he called it, Lace of Grief. Ernashthaxis had consumed a vortex the size of a palace that churned through the elemental chaos with the strength of a titan. Lace became his prized possession and he displayed it prominently on his caravan as he traveled through the Chaos.

Treachery robbed the essence smith of his prized blad years later when he discovered the blade stolen. The powerful wepon had proved too tempting and a lesser member of the Djin caravan had plotted ceaselessly to take the prize. Unsuspected because of his low status, a light-fingered imp successfully heisted the enchanted blade and fled the caravan to make his own name. Believing that he would now wield great power the imp tried to unlock Lace of Grief's latent energy. He instead found his ability to access the elements within negligible.

Without the cooperation of the elemental weapon the demon soon fell prey to a force he could not resist. Across the planes in the material realm followers of the Cult of the Elder Elemental Eye had uncovered the demons name. The cultists, bent on increasing their own power, summoned the demon into their circle. Weak and frightened, the demon proved disappointing to Fashish, leader of the Temple of Air. He cursed the pitiful creature and was on the verge of torturing it to death when he detected the presence of great power. The “Sword of Air” as Fashish called it became his prized possession and an implement in the execution of his dark rituals. Attempts to delve into the power trapped within the sword were largely fruitless. Unable to understand it, the evil priest Fashish kept it safely hidden in his altar.

Arora Whurlode rescued Lace of Grief from the altar after years of lying useless as the trinket of a dark cleric. Full of ire and wrath, the blade was delivered to Deomin months later at the Battle of the Temple of Elemental Evil. Here the swords edge was turned and in the hands of a warrior of wind Ernashthaxis helped to bring down the unworthy cult. Strapped across the back of the cleric-ranger, Lace of Grief patrols the world dealing elemental justice to the enemies of Deomin. Unsuspecting of the power within, Deomin wields the blade as a deadly martial tool. Perhaps one day he will access a greater measure of its element. Perhaps one day the blade will return to the chaos from whence it came.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » May 27th, 2010, 9:47 am

Enjoy another collaboration piece. Compliments of Cailin and I!

Arora has been trying to catch up with Deomin for the better part of an hour. She smiles to herself as she pauses to catch her breath. Deomin's not getting away this time, not if she can help it. He's her oldest friend and his recent brooding and cryptic responses have her on edge. Arora realizes that even though she cares for nearly everyone she meets, there is a growing distinction between feelings for her companions, and strangers they encounter. It has taken her some time to understand this. Like a flame that has steadily grown stronger throughout their trials, her emotions burn brightest for her friends and allies. Deomin especially. He has been there through it all, even if only in spirit sometimes. Now, she wants to be there for him. She wants him to know he can count on her and trust her... and something deep in her wants to believe he will be there for her too, that the connection between them has the kind value usually attributed to family, of which she has none. Perhaps it's a false hope, but Arora has to hold onto something in the absence of father, mother, or brother. Deomin is the closest thing to family she has known for a long time, and she's determined to make that fact mean something. Finally, he takes a short rest and Arora trudges up noisily behind him.

"Deomin, you're a hard man to get a-hold of sometimes, you know?"

Deomin stretches and laughs. Eyes to the sky for a moment he drinks in the sensations of a warm and peaceful day."Persistence has paid off again Arora. What’s on your mind?"

Arora settles on a raised boulder next to Deomin and gives a little "woomph" sound as she sits, staring up into the dappled leaves of the gently swaying tree.

"I...I wanted to talk to you about before. On the boat with the storm giants. You seemed... different around them, and then those things you said..." Arora does her best to sound causal but her words sound rehearsed and sloppy. She's already kicking herself inwardly at butting into Deomin's business again after he had so obviously ignored her on the ship.

Watching her fidget, Deomin doesn’t really understand why she seems so insecure. Arora is usually as direct as they come and after facing grisly adventures, exhausting journeys, and mortal combat together he is curious at her reservation.

"Alright Arora, your questions don’t have the best answers, but there are a few other things going on with me besides the hunt for Arath." Scratching his head and searching for a proper explanation he continues. "I’m...looking for people...and preparing. I believe that the why of my current state is of more importance than the how." Deomin looks around them at the idyllic surroundings. The forest seems manicured to perfection. Drawing from the scenery inspiration hits him in the form of an analogy.

"Sometimes a gardener finds a plant of his particular liking. He plants it in his garden where he knows it will grow and serve him. Then the plant must do its part, living and maturing as the plant sees fit for itself. Both the plant and farmer get what they want. Right?"

"So..." She drawls a little, her eyes scanning Deomin's features curiously, "pray-tell, who might your gardener be?"

She looks at him and the tinted crystals in his hair, the eyes that glow faintly blue. Despite his transformation there's still so much familiarity to him. The way his lips curl into a smile, his eyebrows arching as he speaks, and the particularly elvish lilt of his voice are all dead giveaways of the Deomin she has long known. Arora can't help but wonder at what Deomin's "gardener" has planned for him. In the corner of her mind she feels an uneasiness at what he may be facing and that he seems intent on going it alone.

"Goddesses of the Seldarine have spoken to me in visions, but they haven't told me much." Deomin shrugs with apathy. "I know of the gods and their plans like a stalk of corn knows of the farmer and his harvest. My path is simpler and my choices more limited than anything they face.

Arora stands up, sliding off the rock and coming to a stop just near Deomin, looking up at him. She knows; he intends to bound off once more. Not this time, Deomin.

She speaks more contemplatively than before. "Perhaps you are right my friend, but one thing continues to puzzle me; how can it be that you, a person I have always considered a free and unbound spirit, are so content to be restrained by the inconceivable plans of someone else? You speak of gardens and crops, but you are neither. You are a man."

Deomin relaxes, for he was about to leave.

“I don't know. The choices I make seem as natural as breathing. My ability to direct those choices has never been more empowered. The gifts I posses may lead me down dangerous roads, but I will sing every step of the way. For me life is within reach. I am doing exactly as I please.”

Arora runs her gauntlet covered hand through her loose hair thoughtfully, sighing. "I believe you when you say your will is your own. My concern stems more from your seemingly willful ignorance of to what end you serve, and whose will you carry out. You say you're looking for people? Preparing for something? How much do you know of this mission? Who are these people? These are questions of some importance, I would think"

Deomin nods in agreement."These questions are important and I'm sure answers will be revealed in time. Besides, who can force the gods to reveal their intentions? I feel at ease on my path. It is a signal I have learned to trust."

"Who indeed?" Arora laughs a little. "I find I too am usually left to my own devices as to what to do or where to go. What contact I have with Bahamut is a calming warmth that dwells in me, it is the same thing I call upon when I must fight and protect those in need. It is a... part of my soul, I suppose." Arora holds up her hammer, which remains pristine amongst the dirt and battle it has encountered, the silver scales on the hilt sparkling in the rising sun. "Sometimes you can even see it, if you try." She smiles at him, her features are warm as she feels the sunlight peppering her cheeks. "Just know that if you should ever need it, you will always have my support in your endeavors, You don't have to do it alone."

Deomin sits and watches Arora leave. His usual restlessness is calmed by her offer. Life has been so fast and full these past months that many things have slipped by him in a blur. Deomin knows that he can always ask for help, but this conversation felt like more than a reminder. Moving once again down the sunlit path Deomin reflects on the importance of sharing life with others.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » June 2nd, 2010, 7:50 pm

Far into the mountains on the ceiling of the world the endless winds sweep the cold driven snow. Miles of rock and ice lie in every direction, knifelike crags and plunging gorges. On the highest peak an alien force interrupts the bleak landscape. Distortions in the air appear as reality warps and tears revealing a jagged cut in the material plane. Out from the tear a shadowy figure steps forward. Behind him through the tear a tumultuous landscape of fire, ice, wind and quakes wrestle for stability in a never-ending state of chaos. Seconds after passing through the portal the tear destabilizes and collapses. The shadowy figure is left alone on the mountain.

A massive crater at the peak reveals none of the serenity that had dwelt there for the previous thousand years. The Philosopher’s Temple has been relocated and once again the trail has gone cold. Locating an archon of air to help him was difficult enough, convincing it to continue its service will require…skill. Calculation and zealotry battle as discouragement is driven away. Single-minded dedication consumes the shadow as he draws a piece of black opalescent stone from beneath his cloak. Holding it above him for a moment he sweeps it downward tearing reality and revealing once again the tumultuous landscape. Without hesitation he enters the elemental chaos and all trace of his passing disappears.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » June 3rd, 2010, 10:21 am

The sun warms Deomin’s face and arms as he rocks back and forth in the saddle. Bregan, Deomin’s latest horse, is a steady creature with long and deliberate strides. Perpetual buzzing fills Deomin’s ears relaxing him further. A giant fly, the source of the noise, bobs and dives above him giving Brandis an opportunity to learn the finer points of riding aloft. The long trail and the increasingly warm weather have provided the companions a peaceful journey to Ulgarth. Serenity dampens Deomin’s usual alertness and pulls his attention to things more distant.

With each passing day Deomin’s connection with the elements grow. Surrounding lands are revealed to him through subtle changes in the quality of air. Drowsy from the afternoon heat, he closes his eyes and reaches out with his senses.

Several miles to the northeast a bonfire is burning. Another whiff reveals the fuel to be an old beech tree. A rush of wind blows past Deomin’s ear rustling his hair. The gust is cool and moist. Tomorrow morning a storm will arrive from the coast. Deomin opens his eyes and watches some dry leaves dance, swirling with speed on the air currents. Where others may see random unpredictable movement Deomin sees a pattern that is complex and beautiful. With ease and grace he reaches out a hand and takes a leaf, interrupting its dance. He plucks it with the simplicity of picking an apple from a tree. The wind holds no mystery or challenge for Deomin, it is his source, his lifeblood.

The afternoon draws on and evening brings a new palette of sensations. A faint breeze reaches the ranger’s lips. On it he tastes a drop of the sweetest clearest water he has ever encountered. In surprise Deomin begins to search for the source. Breathing in deeply he samples the wind from every direction without any indication of such pure moisture. Reaching, stretching Deomin pushes his senses to their limits before managing to capture a single tiny particle of the liquid. His emotions race at the implications of such a pure element. After a moment of thought, the source of this clear element remains a mystery. One thing he knows. The answer lies to the east.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » June 17th, 2010, 6:47 pm

Despite how much Deomin liked his duster, the scorching heat is much more bearable in his new attire. He smiles to himself reflecting on how much excitement and adventure he has found in the past few months. Danger and serious moments are inevitable companions of adventure, but looking back it is easy for Deomin to feel the humor and ridiculousness of such times. A steadily increasing level of confidence wells inside of Deomin as he and his companions thwart enemies, obstacles, and long journeys.

Deomin’s smile turns into a chuckle as he considers his next change in wardrobe. Next time he will take the clothes outright. “10 gold was far more than these clothes were worth!” He muses, “I was overly kind in my offering when the merchant clearly could have borne the loss. Besides, what was the man to do? Slap manacles on the Heroes of Hommlet? We have stood toe to toe with Imix, Elemental Lord of Fire! Demons, dragons, sprits, zombies…the list goes on. With such important things to do, taking time to answer to people in more common walks of life may be something I can avoid outright in the future”.
The fiery red sun dips low on the horizon as the group approaches the gypsy camp. Deomin pulls his scarf up over his mouth and nose to shield them from the dry swirling dust. Sampling the air he anticipates pending rainfall. A cool refreshing rain should make the trip home more comfortable…

…The night sky is clear and the air is moist and crisp. Rain came just as Deomin had expected. Tonight, rain was the only thing Deomin could have predicted. Sitting atop a gypsy wagon, Deomin slowly drives the cart back toward Orvyltar. The deep furrows left by the laden carts clearly mark the cart’s passing. “Clarity.” Deomin thinks, “A funny thing.” On the way to the gypsy camp Deomin had reveled in his invincibility. Now he understands that much of that feeling came from the strength and unity of his companions. His head hangs low as he gazes out on the dunes. A full moon bathes the desert in a pale silver glow. A somber mood accompanies the spectral haze. The miles roll by as Deomin becomes consumed by a realization. “I don’t even know these people! Arora and Wrenn are crazy to pull a stunt like that. In a life or death situation no less!”

Despite Arath causing a ruckus and the gods drawing invisible paths for him Deomin has always remained carefree and independent. Realizing the extent of his dependence on the group isn’t an easy concept to swallow. It sits in the back of his throat like a dry cracker that wont go down. “I really need to get to know these people..” For the first time since Deomin’s rebirth he begins to feel stress.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » July 19th, 2010, 6:57 pm

Deomin watches the lone gypsy rider disappear into the darkness. With his back to the Oasis of the Lady of Water he scans the vast desert before him with its rolling dunes. Here the winds grind solid rock into a sandy landscape that is almost uninhabitable. In Orvyltar Deomin’s winds had ground down every living thing that opposed him. The desert winds call to him with wisdom. Such desolation serves no one. Facing the cost of unending violence Deomin makes a decision. “No longer will I give into my fears.” Deomin reflects back to a time before his transformation. Before he met his friends.

When Deomin walked alone careless destruction was part of his identity. People and places were left broken behind him without a second thought or a single feeling of remorse. His new resolution brings back some of these events to his mind. Memories flash before him.

A young bully in Vesperin trying to make a name for himself as a thief. Deomin relieved the boy of his hand. When the boy returned with his crew Deomin saw them for what they were. Scared, weak, untrained and hurt. The boys stood for their pride and their injured mate. Deomin left them all dead and bleeding before moving onto the next town.

A village in Damara frantic for protection from beasts. In a time of scarce food vicious wolves had set upon a remote village and began to kill its population one by one. By chance, Deomin was in the area hunting and the villagers besought him to end the dire animal’s threat. With callous disregard he told them he preferred the company of wolves to their own and left them to their grim fate.

A paladin in Orviltar trying to maintain order in a time of chaos. With the loss of their King and the prince’s exile, order in the terrified city was slowly slipping through the cracks. Kaynor and his paladins approached Deomin and his friends to uncover their purpose in the city. Bold words he spoke in the name of order yet violence was returned. Within seconds Kaynor stood alone, every one of his troop cut down in the street.

More memories flood into Deomin's mind wrenching his heart and bringing forth a remorse that he has not felt in years. A few tears leak onto the warrior’s face. The sparkling droplets quickly dissolve into blue-tinted wind that is swept away in the breeze. Turning his gaze upward Deomin looks into the starry southern sky. Up above, the wind dances upon a stunning canvas of milky luminescence. The vista fills him with hope as the universe extends beyond his view. “Perhaps in the future I will walk a higher road.”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » July 22nd, 2010, 3:26 pm

Paint peels from the dry wood revealing grey mold and the beginnings of wood rot. The boards themselves are cracked. Splinters of wood and bent nails protrude from every surface. Trim on the roof of this once elegant house hangs down like sharp teeth at the entrance to a dark gaping maw. The doors that Deomin opened here a few months before no longer welcome home the Imaskari orphan troop known as the stigs. The mansion is empty and quiet. Deomin stands in the street filled with his own emptiness. Though the children who lived here were never his own and his time with them was short, their disappearance makes his heart wither and his eyes grow cold. Deomin too was an orphan.

Decades ago a young Deomin huddled in the corners of rough taverns in Narfell. Fear and table scraps filled those years. No love or bread was ever given to him during that time. Without the intervention of his mentor, Hirson, he likely would have died in one of those seedy places. Today Deomin stands as a survivor, he is not lost to the world or to himself. As the days pass he works to understand his own identity as well as his own place in the world. Whatever strength of character he has gained comes after passing through many dark years. Even so, none of it would have been possible without the support of another during his childhood. The stigs had less of a chance than he did. With only each other to rely on it wasn’t enough.

A city that does not care for its children will surely lose them. Children that know only the oppression of abuse and neglect will grow to become monstrous examples of that suffering.

Turning from the barren estate Deomin relinquishes his attention to the greater crisis at hand. However many are lost Arath must be stopped.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » August 5th, 2010, 7:14 pm

The latest collaboration post between Deomin, Brandis, and Hugh. Thanks for all the great material guys.

Among the long list of repairs, one of the first things Grosh demands of his Halfling followers is the construction of some full sized furniture. Rooms aboard the Yargo are large enough, but for medium sized folk, or the extra-large Grosh, the dollhouse furniture used by the previous owners won't do.

Hugh, Brandis, and Deomin relax in a spectacularly adorned chamber after an exhausting and dangerous fight against the ships former tenants. The late Captain Yargo had left a bounty of luxurious goods to sample and interesting trinkets to investigate here in her private quarters. Smoke of different colors and odors mix on the ceiling of the grand chamber as the trio inhales some of the finest tobacco of their lives. Exotic incense from the far reaches of Sho-Luong burns slowly in an ornate marble stand shaped like a prowling wolf. Hugh inhales the spicy fumes and takes another puff at the overstuffed hookah, “the spoils of war” he says lazily.

Brandis sits comfortably in one of the new great chairs. His feet are perched on the desk as he lounges in the soft fur of thick seal pelts. An entire rack of maps are spread out on his lap spilling onto the floor as he pours over the detailed navigational charts. Discerning eyes scrutinize the map as Brandis makes his own marks and changes to the various regions all across Faerun. The marks are completely unique to Brandis and their significance is a mystery. Paths of his past journeys? Caravan routes? War marches of the last decade? Hugh and Deomin might never hear all the stories. Occasionally he marks the maps with known symbols or corrects inaccurate topography as he slowly makes his way through each of the charts.

Deomin sits comfortably across the room playing a soft tune on his wooden flute. The music escaping the woodwind swirls and dances visibly in the smoky room as breath gives shape to the melody. The obscuring vapors gives life to the otherwise invisible movement of wind.

An hour of leisure passes uninterrupted. Rare for the adventurers since their first trip to Skyclave. Brandis is placing a few small markings by a tiny speck of land near the Moonshae Isles when his elbow strikes a concealed switch on captain Yargo’s desk. Opening with the clanking sound of a few gears, a secret drawer reveals a strange looking object. It doesn’t look like much, a carved wooden doll of no special properties, but as Brandis further inspects it he recognizes it for the relic that it is. He chuckles to himself as he runs calloused fingers over the smooth wood; polished over the many years by hundreds of owners.

“This doll is a generational totem. It was no doubt Yargo’s most prized treasure. Few halflings continue this tradition, but those that do guard it fiercely. I guarantee that it’s the oldest piece of art in a thousand miles. Id bet a ten ton troll half the pets I ever owned that it was Yargo’s first toy when she was a kid.” Brandis passes Hugh the doll who begins to reflect on his own childhood.

“I’m amazed sometimes at all the things I remember. Back when I was a kid I only had maybe six, seven years of stuff rattling around in my head. There was home, family, folks in town, and a few years of memories a kid has. The time it snowed a whole lot, spending a day playing in stream, breaking an arm falling out of a tree. Everything was ahead of me. Now, I’ve got all that in my head plus another fifteen years of life. Leaving home, Wheloon, the years I spent wandering around, all the crazy shit I’ve done with you guys. Just the shear volume of events, people, places, things I can remember happening astounds me.” Huge takes a heavy drag from the hooka allowing the rich smoke to roll over his tongue and through his lips. He continues,

"I don’t know where all this will take us, but I wont end up like the people I left behind. I remember the old men in town back where I was from. I’ve seen others just like them in other towns. They’d putter around at home doing minor tasks during the day, and then in the evenings they’d all head to the local tavern and talk about the weather and the good old days. I’d feel like I was trapped in a box just waiting to die. Come to think of it, I was never really keen making it to old age.” Hugh looks over at Brandis and grins, “Considering all the insanity you’ve been through, and you’re still kicking, maybe I should start planning for that possibility.

With the conversation flowing, Brandis had instinctually wandered over to the liquor cabinet. Shoulder deep in bottles, Brandis: "Not bad, Yargo! Hugh, I don't think I ever got you anything, so happy birthday!" He tosses him a dark brown bottle and says, "Ettin Ale: enough kick to knock out a two headed giant. Haven't had this in years." As he pushes again into the dusty cabinet, Hugh suddenly says, "Hey how old are you, anyway, Brandis?"
With his head and arms still deep in the cabinet, he calls back. "Sixty-something, I think. Maybe Seventy." Upon turning around, he sees the confused/skeptical look on their faces. "Hey, I don't keep track anymore. Knowing exactly won't kill whatever is in front of me, and it certainly won't keep me alive longer! When you're hanging from the edge of a cliff, never look down, and the fastest way to feel like an old man is to count the candles on your cake every year. In life, sometimes your best option is to close your eyes and swing as hard as you can." They share a laugh, and Brandis, after taking another swig, says, "I'm serious. I killed a lich that way once."

Sharing a hearty laugh emboldens Deomin to speak of his own past. “I rarely look back now.” Deomin sits for a moment, through large crystal windows he gazes upon a sea of clouds. The expert fillagree upon the window sill is entirely overlooked by a man lost in reflection. “When people speak highly of experience it makes me shudder. There were times in my past when I was happy and content, but they are flashes of lighting over a cold dark sea of suffering. I was betrayed and left for dead by the only man who ever cared for me. Our relationship was like crafting a masterpiece for thirty years only to drown the final product with black paint.

My new experiences are all that matter to me now. Experiences free of that black sludge. Arath tried to cover my life with it once again, but this time Im not alone.” Deomin turns to Hugh and Brandis meeting each of their gazes. “My life before meeting great warriors and adventurers such as yourselves was brutish and isolated. It has taken me more than one type of transformation for me to reach this point. I feel that friends may have a greater impact on my course than any elemental gifts. I hope we have the time we need.”

Hugh responds to Deomin, “The going can be slow, but we were gonna get there. Remember the Snowflake mountains? First you’re at the bottom with nothing behind you, looking up at this huge thing in front of you. So you start climbing, and that can be hard, but at some point you turn around and look down at the way you came. The view behind you is a lot different than it was when you started.”

Brandis throws the window open and pours some liquor out for all the people he’s killed this week.
“Mountains are nothing to be worry about! Men trip over stones, not mountains! Just watch your step and we’ll be at the summit in no time.”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » August 12th, 2010, 12:59 pm

The high sun beats down on muddy streets and shoddy adobe buildings in the seedier part of Lyrabar. Impiltur is a seedy nation and Lyrabar is a seedy place to begin with. In an open air tavern Deomin sits among a handful of dirty farmers, traders, and thieves. Cheap ale is flowing and through a haze Deomin scans the room, drunk but watchful. His eyes stop as they locate a figure who looks different from the rest of the crowd. By no means is this person cleaner or more well groomed, but she sits with a relaxed posture of one who is completely comfortable. Relaxation, Deomin knows, is an expensive luxury in a city overrun by thieves. Deomin’s reputation keeps him out of most conflicts, but that doesn’t mean he lets his guard down, even three pints deep in a dive like this.

The woman senses his gaze and lazily rises to her feet. She is tall with pale skin and dark hair that is long and straight. It shines like polished onyx as it falls crazily across her face. She pays it no mind as she takes graceful strides across the room to Deomin’s corner table. “So are you a local? Or in town on vacation?”

The question is hilarious on a few levels. Not only are elves very scarce in Impiltur, but Asmodeus of the nine hells wouldn’t vacation in this shithole. Deomin isn’t appreciative of the attention, especially by this woman. Beneath the grime and dirt she is certainly attractive, but she isn’t remotely dressed for a social call. Thick and flexible leather covers her from neck to toes. A black sash with a jagged red “X” emblem wraps her waist. Most indicative of all, two wicked blades hang from her hips in well worn sheaths. Wooden handles are polished to a shine from extensive use. A demonslayer.

The lands of Impiltur have been ravaged by demons since the beginning of the spellplague. The most skilled, reckless, and hate-filled warriors of Impiltur have responded by dedicating themselves to destroying the infernal invaders. Slayers fight for the survival of their nation without office or badge of authority apart from the black and red sash indicating their profession. Demonslayers are regarded as national heroes. Standing against them is a great way to lose popularity, and maybe an arm.

“Maybe not a local, but certainly deaf… What’s your business here elf?”

“Go be drunk somewhere else. You’re not a city guard.”

Stunned for a moment by the insolence, anger soon follows. The woman clenches her fist, “Im the only thing that protects this place, so you answer me when I ask.”

“You’re not the only one who carries a sword. Get the hell out of my face demon-fucker.”

That did it.

Leaning forwards the woman whispers softly in Deomin’s ear,”Im going to cut the clothes from your body and leave you hairless in the gutter.”

Rough hands grasp Deomin from behind and throw him in the street where an angry crowd gathers. The woman emerges from the shadows of the tavern like death incarnate. Her focus and fury are absolute. Clashing blades ring out like falling rain.

Deomin stands alone in the street, eyes wide and breathing heavily. His naked torso bears superficial wounds where his leather jerkin was cut from his torso during the conflict. At his feet strands of his hair mix with shards of metal in the muddy street. White knuckles grip a bladeless hilt in his left hand. Most of the hair on his head is shorn. The longsword in his right hand is wet with blood that is beginning to dry in the hot sun. A lucky slash had saved Deomin’s life and ended the fight. The demonslayer was far from dead but a slice in her thigh was reason enough to end the battle. Her expertise with twin blades was unlike anything Deomin had ever seen.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » August 19th, 2010, 2:53 pm

Darkness fills the cave with secrecy and confidence as The Shadow sits, jaws clenched, muscles trembling. Before him the Visage looms, a being of unending prescience. In its grating voice it conducts a mysterious ritual. Words echo in the deep chamber, a language long forgotten among beings of the material realm. Syllables crash and spark like water on rock and fire in the sky.

With each phrase the Shadow buckles under greater and greater strain. Pale skin, etched with chaotic symbols begins to flash with bursts of flame. His hands turn momentarily to dirt and begin to dissolve as lightning arcs from his eyes clashing on the stone floor of the cave. Careful inscriptions carved in the stone at his feet represent images of great primordial beings rearing their heads in awesome power. The figures are arranged in a circle with an empty depression in the middle a few feet deep.

As the ritual climaxes the Visage roars in triumph and yells the final phrases of ancient Batrachi. A planar tear rips through the fabric of reality above the depression releasing a cylinder of stone that crashes through the aperture and roots itself in the floor. The rock is instantly sealed, fused to the surrounding stone with impossible strength. Corruption leaks out from the cylinder as it begins to change the surrounding material to its own chaotic substance.

The Shadow nearly swoons from the effort of assisting in the ritual. He leans heavily on one knee as he kneels before the altar. Rasing his eyes to inspect it, the material of the altar appears to be in perpetual flux. Black obsidian gives way to jagged bleached bone that cracks and breaks to reveal dark wooden roots. White runes dance across its surface only to disappear into the mayhem. The Shadow's eyes grow wide with awe and reverence.

With foreboding pleasure the Visage speaks. “You now protect the Keystone. From this monolith we will call forth the storms until all of Faerun cowers at our feet. Only then will Chaos truly reign.” The Visage withdraws from the cave and silence falls.

The Shadow struggles to its feet flexing hands that seemed to dissolve into dust only moments before. He traces a spiral on his chest as he stands before the altar.

Abandoning all thought of suffering, The Shadow dresses and readies his equipment. He turns to face a murdered corpse that lies propped up on the wall of the cave. The corpse is wearing a face of agony that is distorted by deformations on the skin of its face. Just as The Shadow stood warped by the awesome power of the Pandemonium Stone, Kaynor, paladin of Erathis, could not withstand its entropic might. Feeble was his resistance as he tried to withold information about the warrior of wind. The paladin's gods were weak and so was his will.

Black eyes glittering, The Shadow removes a small piece of the Pandemonium Stone from his cloak and prepares to travel through the Elemental Chaos.

“Now you will face me Deomin.”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » September 1st, 2010, 7:06 pm

Down, down, down into the darkness. Like a rising tide the thick ink of the Underdark’s endless night wash over Deomin filling his senses. Beneath the earth air sits stagnating for ages, stewing in the foreign scents of mysterious beasts and otherworldly plant life. This air is as overwhelming as it is nauseating. The only breezes he feels are those that follow him on his path. Deomin begins to fantasize about other places that he would prefer. “Even the fetid bogs of Damara smelled better than this” he thinks.

Deomin is about to open his mouth, when he remembers the promise he made to Arora back in Baldurs Gate. He bites his tongue and continues descending one step at a time.

Rounding another corner, Deomin’s world is turned upside down. A powerful gush of air rushes by him as the tunnel widens into an enormous cavern. The sight is one of the most beautiful things Deomin has ever seen.

Dozens of luminescent fungi sprout from floor to ceiling creating a softly lit forest. The floor is padded with the decaying loam of dead mushrooms that gives a sweetened aroma to the swirling air. Vents from the somewhere in the cavern churn together air from tunnels leading to the surface and shafts that plunge deep into the earth.

Once again Deomin’s senses are overwhelmed. The spectacular panorama and seasoned air create euphoria in him that match the severity of his nausea minutes before. “This place is extreme.” Deomin whispers.

Making their way through the forest of glowing fungi, the party witnesses several acts of violence in the deadly ecosystem that cycles here in the Underdark. Watching a plant impale and devour a beast as large as Kaylar caught everyone off guard. The danger only adds to the edgy and surreal atmosphere. Deomin savors every moment.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » September 9th, 2010, 1:38 am

Shadow presses in, filling every crevice, muting every sound. In the Shaowfell, the atmosphere is an empty sponge that drains hope leaving a grey emptiness inside that withers desire. In this dark and hopeless terrain consciousness will slip away unexpectedly, leaving a person adrift in his waking dreams.

Deomin journeys through the Ramparts toward the planar rift. Each step sinks him deeper into the recesses of his mind. The chatter of reality falls into the void leaving Deomin walking away from himself on a fork in the road. Hidden feelings left unattended rise to meet him. Arath.

One step. Deomin is on a rocky path through wilds outside of Ikammu. Another step. Deomin stands in a place he has not considered for years. Beneath a ten story inverted obelisk, Deomin polishes a ripe black fruit that smells of infinite sweetness. The fruit of Tharizdun.

Deomin’s view pans and he sees Arath, pale faced and clammy. The wizard cradles the fruit as if it were a child. With a trembling voice he tries to explain to Arora about the power and knowledge at stake. Arora slowly reaches for the fruit. In this dream Arath pauses. As still as a stature he allows Arora take the fruit from his arms and crush it on the rough stone floor. Now Deomin hears his own voice. He is telling his friends that they are overly cautious and that victory over the cult will not come to those who hesitate. Deomin raises his own fruit to his lips and bites down allowing dark forces to wash over him.

Heat mixes with the darkness and his vision refocuses. Deomin now sees a massive shining door of pristine adamantite. Chaotic filigree marches across its hot surface lighting small flames of doubt and fear in the hearts of every onlooker. The door leads to the sanctum of Imix, Prince of Elemental Fire. Turning to the huddled group he considers the object of discussion. A small silvery orb of uncanny make draws Deomin in with hypnotic allure. Arath holds it forth, offering it to whoever would take this burden of power. A silver hand adorned with blue weaving lines of energy reaches forward and takes the orb. The hand is his own. Opening the black doors reveals a smiling Lareth, waiting to steal their lives. Battle with Imix is fierce. The toll of using the orb is unimaginable, but with its power the friends stand united and victorious.

Afterword Deomin sits in the infirmary with a hole in his heart. Wielding the orb of silvery death has left one of his arms scarred and blackened. Energy lines on that arm pulse with corrupted violet energies from the void. The corruption within him is even more painful. Deomin’ s heart had begun to open to his friends on their journey to defeat the temple. Exposed to cursed energies, that door now slams shut. In his barren state he says the right things so his friends may leave without any guilt. The truth is he no longer feels connected to anyone. Darkness sweeps him away and the visions advance one year.

Silent whispers pass though every court of the northern Kingdoms. The land of Narfell is in ruins. A strange force has taken hold over the land causing an unprecedented degree of destruction from natural disasters. The winds themselves have come to life, terrorizing all life and driving all traces of civilization from the country’s borders. Deep within the Frozen Garden a force of nature makes and keeps its throne. Consumed with rage and the elements, Deomin lords over the frozen country as armies crumble to the unstable might of elemental air. Primordials of the elemental chaos recognized Deomin’s sovereignity and send consorts to him. Mighty archons, djins, and eefrets join the Lord of Air, strengthening his rule. Surrounding kingdoms muster to eliminate the new threat as the region falls into anarchy. Darkness washes him away as his own screaming laughter echoes in his ears.

Another step down the path and Deomin is back in the Ramparts. Emptiness continues to press from without, but the vision is not real. The real truth is that Arath is lost from their path and Deomin will bring him back.
Eric Holland
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Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » September 14th, 2010, 5:37 pm

The first night in Ikammu Brandis and Deomin remain awake preparing for the tests to come.

The night is quiet and candles burn low as Deomin and Brandis sit tending their weapons. The “best” lodging in Ikammu provides accommodations that most cultures would consider Spartan. Just like everywhere else in the city, the place is shrouded in darkness.

Deomin sits on a short metal stool crafted from dull iron. The strong wealds are an indication of the skill and care invested by the Shadar-Kai in even the most mundane goods. After three hours of tending and repairing his gear, Deomins’s back burns with fatigue. Armor and boots, well worn after years of service require a vigorous rub with preservative oil. Magical blades require smoothing and alignment in addition to other fine tuning. A warrior knows that caring for ones gear is part of survival.

Brandis and Deomin sit in silence slowly working mercurial stones over the edges of their blades with short scraping motions. The razor edges ring softly with each stroke filling the dark dwelling with an alien hum.

“Our duels are dulling my blades. If you blocked more attacks I wouldn’t hit your armor nearly so much.” Deomin speaks softly and gradually as not to disturb their sensitive work.

Brandis chuckles and replies, “Next time you are staring into an ale mug, look at your own reflection. Your defenses are as weak as a sleeping calf still suckling at its mothers teats”

A few minutes pass while the two finish their work. Finishing touches then bright blades hefted in the cold night air. Slow and graceful swings demonstrate perfect weight and balance. The weapons are replaced reverently into worn sheathes.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » September 16th, 2010, 12:42 am

Deomin pushes his way through the crowded streets of Ikamuu. A callous pedestrian bumps his side sending lances of pain through his body. His grim face darkens further, “This tattoo will take days to heal.” Placing a hand on his left shoulder he feels the arcane energy radiating from shadowy ink imbedded in his skin.

Adjusting his hood Deomin’s eyes scan the street for unwanted attention. Journeying to the Shadow Dark helped some of his notoriety blow over, but avoiding attention in this place is nearly impossible and street brawls in Ikammu are a special kind of crazy.

Smirking to himself over the notion, Deomin remembers when he would only fight alone. “Lately, the fights Ive been in would be foregone without any backup.” he thinks. Comforted, the warrior of wind presses forward toward his goal.

Deomin approaches the first shop in the bazaar dedicated to the sale of magical goods. A crooked plaque with the name "Todgers" is hung crookedly above a large open window. The building is roughly carved out of the dark stone found throughout most of the city. A polished stone counter top opens to the public business use. The counter is simple and well cut, smoothly finished allowing the bored human attendant to twirl a sparkling gem like a top as he kills time. “What’ll it be?” the man says without introduction. A flick of the wrist makes the gems disappear only to be replaced moments later by an intimidating mace.

Deomin disregards the mace.“Im looking for whetstones, for this.” He draws Lace of Grief and holds it flat against his palms. “I need something that matches its quality. Ill know garbage when I see it.”

With a low whistle the attendant raises a bushy eyebrow and pulls out a jewelers scope. Inspecting the filigree closely he tries to pick up the sword. Deomin pulls it away replacing it back in the sheath. “Well?”

The attendant mutters and begins shuffling through merchandise. After rooting through some ornate chests and a cluttered shelf he produces a smooth green metalic oval which he offers to Deomin. Testing the stone's compatibility, Deomin runs it smoothly across the flat of the blade. Green sparks fly from the stone stinging Deomins fingers. “Todgers!" exclaims the shop keep. "That was me finest whetstone! Hmm... you'll be hard pressed to find something that'll service a blade like that." The shop keep scratches his grizzled chin intrigued by the problem. After a minute he gestures to a dark street a few blocks away from the market. "Im not sayin he'll talk to yer, but. If anyones knowin, Nivul will be the one”

Deomin cowls his face again and turns away from the market. Quiet and less crowded, the secluded neighborhood where Deomin was directed is entirely different from the bustling market. Strong warriors and cunning magic users walk the inner streets passing in and out of small buildings that look more like temples. Somber and serious, the Shadar-Kai caretakers consider each petitioner for worthiness before allowing entrance.

A look of scorn acompanies directions to the house of Nivul. Standing outside of the small stone hovel Deomin chooses to display his sword from the doorway rather than speak. The stone faced Shadar-kai inside hesitates before silently bidding him enter…
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » September 23rd, 2010, 12:28 pm

The metal cages of the inner cell-block are fast emptying. A few warriors were unable to pass the shocking bars, but most have found a way to pick or pry themselves from captivity. One of the prison doors is completely blown off of its hinges in a display of remarkable power. Those who survive, advance.

Deomin applies unguent to his eyes and wraps his face in a black cloth. He knows that the heat and moisture from his breath will be enough for many things to find him in the darkness. As the magical unguent seeps into his skin the world is bathed in starlight.

What appeared to be a network of bare stone tunnels is now revealed to be a subterranean wildlife preserve. The labyrinthine tunnels are covered from floor to ceiling with dozens of species of moss, fungus, and even a few rare varieties of flowers.

Without warning, a winged reptilian creature dives from the ceiling screeching in ambush. Moments before gouging Hugh’s arm with long razor teeth, a shinning silver dagger twirls through the air and pierces its haunch. Squalking in pain and alarm the creature flies crookedly into the blackness. “The rumors that beasts roam free appear to be true.” remarks Deomin as he replaces the silver blade in its sheath. Looking around at the fauna that surrounds him he whispers, “This place is incredible.”

Glowing fluorescent lights and beautiful weaving vines capture the groups attention for a moment before they press forward into the tunnels. People instinctually fall into their roles. Arora examines the stonework of the tunnels and listens to small echoes that bounce around in the twisting network. Hugh stands point with her looking for threats. His eyes cut the blackness like revealing beams from a delivering lighthouse. Brandis moves through the corridors correcting their course and creating landmarks when he can. Wrenn peers through the magical lenses of his goggles scrying on the true nature of the illusionary walls and pitfalls that decorate every corridor of the dark maze.

Deomin clings to the walls and shrouded areas of the curving terrain. Unseen and unheard, he hunts the creatures that stalk them on their path, Shadar-Kai or otherwise. Deomin has learned much about the underdark since he left the surface and with grim cunning he collects tools from the aggressive natural environment.

A bulbous plant resembling a glowing cactus is covered with hundreds of thorns. Short-term paralysis overcomes any plant or animal stung by the slightest prick. Deomin collects the thorns deftly and scatters them into the many spider webs that hang from low-lying plants.

A few of the thorns are saved to pacify the short red trumpet flowers with cone shaped petals that hang from the ceiling at eye level. This flower buzzes loudly upon contact, its alarm bringing a variety of predators who rely on the sound to find prey. Deomin places the sedated alarm plants at as many turns in the road as he can.

Harvesting sweet-smelling berries from one of the only woody plant in the underdark, Deomin carefully fills a bag with the ripe fruit. Leaving behind dark flowing streams of berry juice, he swings it repeatedly against the ground and walls of the cavern. Sugary aromas fill the cavern as the juices flow across the stone floor. Deomin warns the rest of the group not to let the liquid touch their skin.

Luck, persistence, or skill; It is only a short while before the party successfully navigates its way safely out of the tunnels. Behind them almost seven hundred Shadar-Kai never make it to the sands of arena.

Deep in the tunnels, dozens of contestants run afoul of sinister traps. Lying twitching on the ground covered in needles or run down by beasts who tracked their sweet-sugary scent for a mile, each defeated warrior succumbs to death with a smile on his face relishing the final chapter in thier personal story of struggle and triumph. The competition, as always, is fierce and merciless.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » September 29th, 2010, 12:42 pm

The crowd cheers, their whoops and yells crashing and falling on the arena with fanatical vigor. Lights cover the sands of the arena illuminating the contenders as they run, limp, or crawl from the mouth of tunnel. Deomin raises his face to the tall domed ceiling looming in the distance and drinks in the energy. All of the boisterous street talk of the past week is dwarfed by this forum, the pinnacle of Shadar-kai competition and adoration.

Scooping sand from the arena he rubs it slowly in his hands letting the fine powder work its way into the prints on his fingers and the cracks in his gloves. As the arbitrator finishes her instructions *POOF*, Deomin releases a cloud of sand into the air above his head and watches the fine dust hang for a moment then disburse. Reaching back for his swords he grips their hilts with chalked hands and with a *SWISH* unsheathes them to spin brightly in the arcane light. Amid applause and shouts Deomin and his friends let out a yell and charge for the nearest pillar, into the fray.

One man in the crowd shows no sign of adulation. A dark hood drawn low hides an expressionless face and black eyes that gaze unwaveringly at the silver-skinned warrior down on the sands. Emotions rise briefly within him. The desire to rush to the sands and eviscerate his enemy flares like a sunspot on the surface of his chaotic heart. With iron will he cools the feelings and sits motionless…watching…a Shadow, hidden in the dark.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yanna has left Deomin alone in the bath. She douses all the lights upon leaving in a show of respect and etiquette. In perfect darkness Deomin tests his vision. Eyes closed, blackness. Eyes open, blackness. Moments pass and the experience continues. Blackness…Blackness. He looks forward to the day when they will return to the sun. In his mind he sees Kaylar flying through a clear sky over a world green with life.

Eventually rising from the warm water Deomin finds a towel. Drying himself in the dark, he feels his muscles with a finer appreciation of who he is, and what he has become. Approaching the table where his gear is arranged Deomin begins to dress himself through touch alone.

Deomin’s boots are soft and worn after years on the road and decades in the wilderness. He empties the sand in them with a shake before stepping in. Around his ankles he secures padded greaves over which he laces and buckles steel shin guards. Hirson taught him so many years ago to block with the legs as well as the swords. “Your entire body is a target for opponents” he would say, “…and a weapon against them.” Under the greaves and shin guards he dons soft hide pants from a winter bear. The animals in Narfell are so hardy that clothes from their skin often last a lifetime. Molded leather armor covers Deomin’s torso. Securing the clasps at his side he feels the magic take effect over the garment. Etchings from the city of Akanul representing fire, earth, wind and water glow softly as the armor stretches itself to a perfect fit.

Newer pieces of equipment are less familiar and Deomin fumbles somewhat to adjust his gloves, armguards, and headpiece. Stretching his hands and flexing his forearms he uses the darkness to focus on their feel against his skin. The three-quarters band around the back of his head is a strange fit. His head still feels a little unbalanced. Next, his most important pieces. Crossing in an X behind his back he carefully places two fine scimitars. One, a gift from a powerful druid, the other an exotic blade forged in the elemental chaos. Their weight on his back gives him a confidence and readiness to always take that next step.

Deomin’s final movements are sharp and quick. Skyrender, his bow, is placed over his swords in its holster. Dagger to its sheath on his upper leg. Amulet on his neck. He raises the silver medallion of Akadi’s face to his lips briefly and then loops her on his belt. Smacking and banging each piece of gear one last time he bounces on his the balls of his feet a few times. Light spills into the room as he opens the door. Deomin stands illuminated agianst the blackness behind him, ready for a fight.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » October 5th, 2010, 12:18 am

Wrath. For Deomin it is an appetite. Like eat or sleeping, the satisfaction of elemental destruction grows in tandem with the Warrior of Wind’s expanding power. Appetites of any kind exist only to be satisfied without regard for the future. For men of reason, or of conscience, satisfaction often leads to an undesired outcome. Men have learned this lesson over many years, through much sorrow, after many mistakes.

For years Deomin lived with poverty of conscience, bereft of meaningful reasons to live. Now, his growing powers and appetites juxtapose his increasing attachment to friends and greater awareness of the world around him. Deomin deals in destruction and it appeals to him on an essential level, but on several occasions he is forced to swallow the bitter pill of regret after feasting on the delightful demise of something that he would have preferred to leave whole.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Looking across the sands of the arena, something boils over. Reason succumbs to emotion as the Red Champion becomes the source and embodiment of all suffering related to Arath. “THIS man broke the followers of Arath. THIS man would deliver Arath the power to activate The Crown.” Deomin hears the voice of his elemental heart grow stronger, pressing him to release his rage and drown the world in chaos. Spiraling outside of logic, a red haze falls over everything. “THIS man forced Arath to betray them and THIS man is holding him prisoner…”

“You there! Finish off the cheater!” cries Penthier in some muffled and distant reality.

Warped consciousness directs every source of anger and hostility toward the Red Champion. With a brutal war cry, Deomin dashes out across the sands to rain down storm’s destructive essence in eternal blame.
Eric Holland
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Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » October 5th, 2010, 12:54 pm

“Dead animals? You cant be serious…” Deomin is staring at a pool of blood on the stone floor of their well furnished chamber. Their accommodations had been a welcome retreat from the blood and death of this tournament. Now their escape has become foreign territory leaving Deomin anxious to get away as soon as possible. “I mean what the hell IS this!” Deomin keeps his thoughts to himself, but he knows that his face is grim. A memory hovers behind his eyes and uneasiness sets in.

Wrenn, Arora, and Deomin are going to attack a band of gypsies and end its threat to the local gypsy king-pin. This service will purchase invaluable information about what is happening in the region. The deal has been made and their ruse is working. Unexpectedly, Wrenn heads to the bathroom and tries to back out of the plan. Deomin doesn’t care for these sand-eating gypsies or their crooked caravan. This is THE definition of how you get killed on a job! Botched jobs from his bounty hunting days come flooding back. Moments later the three of them are lying unconscious in the mud while the gypsies discuss where to hide their dead bodies.

“He we are again.” Deomin thinks. Deep in the Uchehi-Kai Wrenn begins to sacrifice animals mere hours before the tournament continues. “By the gods we just ate dinner!”

Deomin leaves the main room and enters his own chambers. With a rhythmic *hiss* and *thud* he begins to throw his dagger across the room in relaxation while he considers what is happening. Other memories of Wrenn come to his mind.

Deomin and Wrenn are flying on Kaylar over the roof of the Temple of Elemental Evil. The gnomish wrecking machine unleashes radiant fury upon the goblins as they strafe the roof in a daring offensive. Later that day scores of undead release their necrotic hold on the world in the wake of Wrenn’s cleansing energies.

In Orvyltar, Master Wrenn grits his teeth and furrows his brow as he continues to cast a passwall ritual in the face of slashing pikes and exploding wood. Prisoners and dead men would have been their fate if Wrenn hadn’t pulled through.

“How is it that Wrenn will burn a succubus to the ground and then chain himself to her cousin?” the thought is maddening as Deomin heaves the dagger with all of his might, burying it in the wooden target up to the hilt.

Deomin sits on the edge of his bed and buries his face in his hands. Anger has changed to sadness. His mind drifts back in time to the root of his concern. “I was once called ‘Demon’. The name wasn’t an accident. I lived for violence. I trusted no one and no one trusted me.” His time in Impiltur was the darkest era of his life. In Impiltur the saying goes, “If you aren’t sure who you’re talking to, consider killing them.”Arath and Wrenn are strong candidates for that line of reasoning, but so was he. “I’m past all of that.” he reminds himself.

Standing after a moment, Deomin yanks the dagger from the wood and turns to leave the room. “Wrenn got us out of that Gypsy debacle. I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » October 13th, 2010, 11:39 pm

Ringing steel and blasts of energy dazzle the remaining spectators in the arena. Many onlookers fled when the man in red armor consumed the life force of a Shadar-Kai bystander. Scanning the crowd the Shadow sees only the courageous and foolish remain. With an enormous roar, the draco-lich departs the stage. Bony wings bear it aloft in unnatural arcane flight as it melts into the darkness above. The man in red appears wounded and the arbitrator gives the word to finish him off. The Shadow sits as still as a stone, eyes unblinking, as he watches Deomin and his companions prepare to make their move. Slowly the dark man begins to inhale. His lungs take in the warm stale air around him, filling far beyond the capacity of a person his size. Inside, he tastes the impurities of the subterranean vapors. Sweat, dirt, minerals, and smoke taint the purity of the founding element. Muscles on the Shadow’s face tremble slightly as he hold his breath for a moment. Opening his lips, the air rushes out with sweet release. All impurities are gone leaving the air distilled far beyond any physical process.

Flowing out over the arena the air bends and twists until it lights upon Deomin far below…Something boils over…

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Waiting for the arrival of Bayden’s funeral, Brandis and Deomin take to the streets to train. A private sparring room was part of their accommodations during the tournament, but normally this is a ridiculous arrangement. Most of the sparring in Ikamuu takes place in the streets and it isn’t long before room is made for champions of the Uchehi-Kai at one of the more public dueling sites of the market district.

The two warriors sit waiting for their turn to use the sparring ground, which is little more than a chalk circle drawn on the stone path.

Brandis: “You went a little crazy out there toward the end. I didn’t even see you get in close when we finished him off.”

Deomin had celebrated hard after winning the tournament and was carrying his head high in the streets, but he carries a lingering worry with him since that day.

Deomin: “I don’t know what happened out there. The elements grow stronger within me every day. My control of them grows as well…I just spun out for a minute.”

Brandis can see that Deomin lacks words. The elemental elf sits slumped on the stone bench. His loose white hair falls forward hiding his face as his hands drum nervously on his seat. Restlessness is a dead giveaway that something is the matter with Deomin.

“Just because you have a body, doesn’t mean you know how to use it.” Brandis regards the knuckles on his right hand before deliberately cracking each one. “If its control you need, I can always beat some into you.”

Deomin begins to talk about his meditation and training, but Brandis cuts him short with a wave of his hand. “Who cares if you can whistle two notes at once or stoke the fire to cook dinner! The control YOU need is in BATTLE! Sitting and thinking about it afterward wont help a smidge. Did you learn to fight in the first place by daydreaming under a big oak tree whilst huggin a family of squirrels? BAH!”

Deomin leans back and narrows his eyes at Brandis. Deomin and the big man have always gone blow for blow in the ring and the offer of training catches him off guard. A witty gibe readies itself, but Deomin lets it go. He cant shake what happened back at the arena.

“Ok Brandis. I know less about how you learned to fight than about where you’ve been. Where do we start?”

The crowd cheers as one of the combatants in the arena takes a hard knee to the stomach followed by an elbow to the back of the head. With a shake of his head, Brandis gestures toward the circle. “After you tornado-for-brains…and leave those behind.”

Deomin’s jaw drops as he looks at his swords. In the arena Brandis is flexing his arms and working his grip on Uchehi. Dropping his blades, Deomin hops in place a few times to get himself focused. Summoning the winds to his aid he runs into the circle, unarmed and ready for the beating of his life.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » October 14th, 2010, 3:38 pm

Deomin sits in his quarters aboard Thunderstrike. A low whistling sound is constant as air works its way through the large cracks between the slats of the walls and floorboards. The air is familiar and refreshing after the long weeks underground, but Deomin is caught by grief and its powerful grasp holds him bound in sadness.

Ever since he met Kalla in his enchanted grove so many months ago, Deomin was charmed by the old Druid’s duality; on the surface so frail and scattered, beneath, a great oak of strength, wiser than the ocean is deep. Deomin flips the pages of his memory recalling the the man's greatness. Sometimes it took the form of a dire lion, other times the shuffling gait of an old githzeri leaning on his walking stick.

“Such is the path of a druid.” Kalla once told him as they lounged in his grove. “We bring the strengths and weaknesses of a man to mix with the elation and travail of the world around us.” Deomin had connected with that idea on a personal level. Reveling in his power he is sometimes tempted to lose himself in it; that desire is always checked by his grasp on humanity. Whatever mighty power Kalla wielded, one look was enough to see who was behind that power.

Deomin unsheathes one of his blades and places the tip on the ground. He spins the hilt in his hand watching rays of sun filter through the walls and splash off of the blade in a dazzle of radiant light. The blade was a gift from the only other druid Deomin had ever met. The man had called himself Druid of the Iron Pines. Deomin examines the weapon closely noting its dull appearance. Other than the concentric lines running though the blade like wood grain, there are no other decorations to be found on it. A single piece of steel forms the hilt, crossbar, and blade with no trace of forge work or machining. Testing the sharpness of its serrated edge, Deomin thinks how the blade, once a carved piece of soft wood, was transformed into a deadly tool of living steel. The weapon is a lesson in adaptation. In times of need the softest parts of us become hard, rising to the challenge, breaking barriers to free ourselves from the suffering that finds us wherever we go.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » October 20th, 2010, 9:43 pm

The tread of many boots echoes into the hall as the noose tightens around them. Urgency silences the recent bickering as the group faces their most pressing necessity, escape. Looks are exchanged, but this time backs are to the wall and no obvious solution presents itself. Anxiety slithers up Deomin’s back and comes to rest on his chest like a constricting serpent threatening to choke him into submission. He needs air. Without words he grabs Arora by the hand and bolts for the door.

Commotion in the streets. Red robed figures hustle to lock down outdoor areas without regard for public safety. Amid the furious scenario of arrests, beatings, and home –invasions two figures slip out of the Hall of History. Skirting the edge of the building they plunge into a side alley that leads to a vacant lot behind the massive library. Deomin and Arora know that the hunt is on and, once again, they are the quarries of Orveyaltar ‘s police. Hoping up on a bench where months before the group hid their portal, Deomin inhales deeply and releases a high-pitched whistle that pierces the sky and spreads throughout the city. Drawing swords he looks to the alley hoping that Kaylar will answer his call before the guard does.

Descending like a comet, Kaylar touches down with the speed of an eagle and the strength of a lion. Almond feathers with golden tips shine in the noonday sun. The Hippogriff lets out a primal screech when she sees Deomin and Arora hurrying quickly toward her. Deomin helps secure Arora in the sharkskin saddle before mounting bareback. He looks back once as soldiers burst into the alley smirking rashly at them for arriving seconds too late.

Kaylar launches like an amber missile amid a shower of mundane and magical ordinance. Conjuring the wind, Deomin deflects scores of arrows as they arc toward the escapees. Amid the deluge Deomin is hit in the leg and a few bang off of Arora’s tough armor. Kaylar wheels in the sky pushing her aerial agility to the limit as magical blasts batter her relentlessly.

The magic missiles stop as Kaylar clears the city skyline. Deomin is nearly thrown from her back as she pulls a tight wingover and heads west for the wall. Approaching the final obstacle, defensive towers begin to launch enchanted arrows at the group. Time slows down as a large fireball launches from one of the batteries. Evasive maneuvering reveals its magical guidence as the flaming sphere corrects its course midflight. A screech of anger and Kaylar takes over. Deomin’s eyes grow wide as he feels Kaylar beat her wings in huge downward sweeps and charge straight for the fiery orb. With only a moment to react, Deomin ducks his head and roars for deliverance. Fire engulfs them as all the world becomes a swirling vision of heat and flame.

Before the fire burns, it is gone. With a primal shriek Kaylar consumes the blast, absorbing it into her golden frame and causing fiery radiance to shine forth from her feathers. Ferocious beyond nature, the rampant Hippogriff unleashes the stored energy in a destructive ray of light that obliterates several batteries in an explosion of stone and timber.

Whooping in excitement, Deomin and Arora cheer as they pass over the wall of shell-shocked wizards and cut a line for Thunderstrike. As Orveyaltar slips away Arora looks over her shoulder at the ominous red tower rising one brick at a time over the latest conquest of Arath.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » November 18th, 2010, 11:35 am

Colban and Deomin sit on a grassy hill overlooking the house of Brandis. The “sun” is starting to go down in the distance washing the familiar scenery of the planar portal with a deepening orange hue. The two friends appear as diametric opposites of each other as they make their way through conversations that cover events of the past few years.

Deomin recounts energetic tales that span the entire world in a hundred different voices and a thousand volumes. The wind elf is constantly in motion as he speaks. Acting, fighting, pacing, and at times even dancing, Deomin reenacts the majority of the things he describes. The tales of Deomin roll onward for hours finally concluding with a drastic escape from deep in the royal vaults of Orveyaltar.

Colban sits quietly on a rock as Deomin carries on in his dynamic manner. Lantern eyes slowly take in the scenery around him as the new goliath breathes fresh air long and deep. Colban listens intently to Deomin’s stories, but at times the fast-talking Deomin sounds more like rushing wind than any sort of intelligible speech. Placing his hand upon the rock where he sits, Colban feels its quiet energy, foreign yet so familiar. He looks at the earth between his feet and a longing comes over him that he doesn’t fully understand.

Deomin dances back into view, swords drawn. He goes through a furious combo of kicks and strikes babbling on about how he punished an ice troll. The routine climaxes as Deomin floats into the air several meters and unleashes a slashing wind that mows the lawn in a ten-foot circle around him. Landing lightly with a huge grin on his face Deomin sees Colban staring at the ground. Colban's serious features cannot hide a look that Deomin knows so well. Walking over to the nascent elementalist Deomin sits in front of Colban and extends his hand above him. Colban watches as Deomin spreads his fingers and lets the wind rush through them. Trails of blue energy bleed from Deomin’s fingers coloring the air around them. The look of elation on Deomin’s face reveals his essential connection to the air.

“I think I know what the problem is.” says Deomin as he hops lightly to his feet. Drawing a sword he slashes in quickly at Colban, cutting his bootlaces with two lightning fast strokes. The old slave boots are ragged things. Thin and cracking they give way practically falling off Colban’s feet.

“There!” says Deomin. “Now stand up.”

Casting aside the broken footwear, Colban places his bare feet on the ground. Strong energy instantly surges through his frame with low resonating pulses. The goliath seems to grow an inch in size with the infusion of power and Deomin sees the patches on his skin darken to match the rich hue of the fertile soil beneath them.

Eyes wide, Colban feels connected to all things beneath the earth. He reaches out to them with his elemental heart. Twenty feet below him a small mole makes it way to the surface hunting for earthworms. Its quarry stays just out of reach as the small creatures tunnel onward. Across the portal Colban senses a community of giants. The trees in Kalla’s grove creak and groan as they slowly harvest important minerals into their deep roots. Along with gathering nutrients, the trees tell stories to one another of mighty forests from long ago. Another harvest is in progress nearby. Colban slowly shifts his vision to the small farm outside of Brandis’ house where Shop is working the potato fields. Colban feels the swell of the tender tubers in their earthen cradle. Reacting to his attention, the taters swell just a bit more and turn just a bit sweeter.

A reserved and near imperceptible smile crinkles the corner of Colban’s mouth. Kneeling down he extends his hand and plunges it into the rich soil. Parting the earth as if it were water Colban drags deep furrows in the dirt with extended fingers. Up to his elbow, Colban feels his hand catch on something substantial. Grabbing hold of it he rips his hand to the surface.

Rumbling noises quake the earth as Colban elevates a section of the ground itself. In front of him, a six-foot wall of dirt and stone stand solid before him. Deomin stands in the background whooping and dancing at such a spectacular effect. Colban’s reactions are imperceptible, but deep inside he feels movement; a growing momentum that invites him to take the first steps of a long journey. He sighs regarding Deomin with flickering lantern eyes.

“We should do this again…”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » November 22nd, 2010, 1:54 am

Arath stands before them on the stern of Thunderstrike. Invincible.

“Hello, my old friend. Finally we have something you value enough to come and see us.”

Deomin speaks casually despite the hectic scene around him. Wizards mounted on winged nightmares battle furiously with crew-members who rush from rigging to deck, voices loud through the din of conflict. All of this fades into the background as Deomin addresses the man who has toppled two nations, killed hundreds and enslaved thousands. An ancient complex lies smoldering in the distance like the genesis of an emerging volcano. What can be done against such power?

Sitting at the table of disaster, the five heros plays their cards and Arath collects the pot.

Lost in a distant past Deomin, Wrenn, Brandis, and Hugh awaken

Blurry vision corrects itself slowly as Deomin regains consciousness. Other than a pervasive scratchy feeling, he doesn’t feel much of anything. Gray skies loom overhead and cool mist dulls the senses. Deomin feels detached as he reconnects with Hugh, Wrenn, and Brandis. His latest gambit has not killed him, yet circumstances at present seem especially strange. Deomin, searching, dwells in the moment, but an unusual feeling inside presses him to withdraw into the seclusion of his own mind.

Arora in her new elven form is liberated from imprisonment and the group learns some details about their situation. Apparently death was not enough for them. Apparently invincible is not enough for Arath. Deomin tries to listen to the plan, but temptation from within lures him inside. Inside, where Feiren awaits him…
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » December 23rd, 2010, 4:53 pm

Thrust back in time by Arath, Deomin struggles against the spirit of Fieren for control of his body. Pulled into a dream world during the first night, Deomin battles the mad druid for dominance while locked in a bizzare trance...

Light filters through the dense canopy high above the branch where Silver Monkey sits cracking nuts. He is in the middle of a particularly difficult break when several parrots arrive on his branch. Silver Monkey frowns but does not bother them; the parrots are always coming and going.

“I would not spend all day breaking nuts if I were you.” Says Red Parrot as he scooches closer to the nut pile. “Oh yes!” continued Green Parrot. “Have you not heard that the Jabberwocky is coming?”

“Begone with both of you!” exclaims Silver Monkey as Red Parrot poaches a nut. Waving his hands he chases them off the branch. Only Gold Parrot remains. Gold Parrot ruffles his feathers and looks sideways at Silver Monkey before speaking. “You are new here Silver Monkey. Maybe you should be more cautious? This jungle has belonged to the Jabberwocky for a long time.”

“Humph” said Silver Monkey. “What does it matter to him that I’m here? I can’t even remember how I got here anyway.”

Gold Parrot ruffles his shining feathers again and bobs his head twice for good measure. “Look at you cracking your nuts. Next you will be building a house! Jabberwocky doesn’t like it when people change things here. Only him.”

Silver Monkey lounges in the crook of the branch where it joins the massive trunk of a great jungle tree. Folding his arms crossly he raises his nose in the air. “Well I’m not going anywhere. This is my jungle for now and I’ll do as I please.”

Gold Parrot gives a final ruffle and bobs his head once before flying off to join the others. “I hope you are as strong as you are rash. This is a very dangerous place.”

Silver Monkey ignores the comments of Gold Parrot and soon the warm sun and comfortable branch provide all the means for a wonderful afternoon snooze.

*CRACK* Silver Monkey awakes to swirling vision and the feeling that he is in free-fall. A split second to open his large eyes and he discovers that he truly IS falling. Flailing in panic Silver Monkey barely manages to grasp a small branch a few meters from the ground and swing himself toward a prickly looking bush.

“YEOUCH!” exclaims Silver Monkey as he extracts himself from the bush. Thorns protrude from various places on his feet and bottom and he dances in pain as he plucks the invasive needles from his fur. Frowning and cross Monkey moves to inspect the large branch where he was napping. Looking it over closely he sees that the wood is soft and rotten to the core. Small termites burrow through the branch leaving small tunnels in their wake where once strong fibers held the branch fast to the trunk.

Silver Monkey sits on his haunches and scratches his head while he snacks on the termites. He was so sure that the branch was healthy when he dozed off. How could it rot so quickly? *CRASH* a second large branch slams into the jungle floor inches from the unsuspecting Monkey. Screeching in panic monkey jumps and bounds for his life as leaves, branches, and large pieces of trunk explode all around him in a flurry of rotten debris. Silver Monkey escapes the chaos and turns to see the last few feet of the massive trunk crumble into wood chunks and fine powder.

Watching such a mighty tree collapse into nothing before his eyes makes Silver Monkey both nervous and angry. “Who’s out there breaking all the trees?” says Monkey in a loud voice. Silver Monkey feels tickling on his feet and looking down sees a carpet of crawling insects running across the ground over and between his feet. “UGH!” exclaims Monkey as he leaps onto a nearby stump. Standing tall on his stump he hears coarse breathing and rasping coughs. A bony hunched figure standing on two legs reveals itself from the curtain of dark vines where it was hiding. The skin on its face hangs loose giving it the appearance of something aged and withering. From its fleshless torso protrude ribs of thorny wood that crack and pop while it walks. Its whole body appears to be a brittle thorny skeleton. Breathing long and raspy it spreads its skinless wings and declares itself in an ancient voice, “I AM THE JABBERWOCKY!”

Upon speaking, all of the surrounding insects launched into the air and begin swarming around Silver Monkey. Shrieking in pain and confusion Monkey flees as fast as his arms and legs can carry him. The biting and stinging insects of Jabberwocky relentlessly pester while harsh laughter echoes through the jungle, savoring the suffering and destruction of living things.

Minutes pass before Silver Monkey can rid himself of the bugs. Large patches of his fur are torn out and a hundred welts from a dozen different bugs pepper his raw skin. Silver Monkey lets out a loud *BURP* from all the bugs he ended up eating and frowns deeply. “None of those bugs tasted healthy or good” he thinks. “So much corruption.”

Silver Monkey gets up and furrows his brow. “I won’t stand for this. Jabberwocky is a terrible creature and is bad for this Jungle. I will fight him and I will win.” Swinging off into the trees Silver Monkey heads back toward the dark curtain.

*Bonk* A rock skips off of Jabberwoky’s head as he stews inside the curtain of dark vines. With narrow eyes full of malice Jabberwocky bursts from his den sending forth waves of hungry insects. Silver Monkey is waiting.

Covered from head to toe in the sloppiest honey, Silver Monkey stands tall atop his stump. Brandishing a bamboo staff Monkey invites the attack of the insects with rebellion in his eyes. Jabberwocky chuckles as thousands of insects swarm Silver Monkey completely blocking him from view. A few seconds pass drowned by the noisy humm of insect wings.

Jabberwocky has victory on his mind when inexplicably, the swarm launches straight at him. He feels a solid *THWACK* as something hard rattles his head and breaks one of his horns. Jabberwocky retreats into the vines, but swarm pursues him battering him with a hard something that he can’t even see. From the midst of the swarm leaps Silver Monkey, covered in syrup that is half honey and half bugs.

No longer fooled, Jabberwocky snarls and tackles Silver Monkey. Fighting with thorns, teeth and claws he slashes and bites at the sticky Monkey intruder who has invaded his jungle. Jabberwocky scores a few hits, but he is no wrestler. With strong hands and prehensile feet Silver Monkey breaks the Jabberwocky’s wooden bones one at a time until he is no more than a head and pile of sticks. The Jabberwocky head curses and screams endlessly as Silver Monkey dusts his hands off and leaves the den of dark vines.

Silver Monkey doesn’t know how he arrived in this jungle, but it’s his now. “I’m calling the shots here.” flashing a satisfied grin, “and I’m not going until I’m ready…”
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » December 30th, 2010, 12:23 am

Deomin lounges on his bunk starring up at Akadi’s silver face as it spins slowly above his head. A moment alone will soon be a rare thing once he heads back into the underdark. For now he sits contemplating the silver medallion he acquired back in Cormyr, studying its detail, feeling its power, and wondering at its purpose.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Docking in Cormyr was brief and primarily served to re-supply. Still, an opportunity for merriment wasn’t something to pass by in a city so large and exciting. Half a day of shopping for arms to retrofit the airship left Deomin ready for some R&R. The evening was spent, of course, over drinks at a bustling pub. Stories from an old friend of Brandis who happened to be there kept them entertained for most of the night and local drinking games filled in the cracks for Deomin. Viciously hung over the next morning, it took Deomin an hour of wandering before happening upon a temple of Akadi.

Not nearly as grand as the Qa’ire of Akadi in Airspur, this building looked somewhat plain from the outside. Upon entering however, Deomin was taken aback at the beauty of the enchantments that filled the temple’s great hall. Swirling mists of all colors wove elaborate patterns throughout the open spaces of the temple. Each color of meandering mist brought a unique bouquet of scents and emotions as they percolated amongst the guests. Deomin felt pressed into a state of nostalgia as lost memories responded to the strong sensations.

Deomin told the Airwalkers that he was lost and needed to find the docks. Responding in their usual abstruse manner the priests took his question in a metaphorical sense and invited this strange creature of air to come and meditate with them as they “helped him find his way.”

Frustrated by the priest’s indirect answers Deomin was about to excuse himself in a rather brusque manner when he noticed a beautiful genasi woman enter the room and take her place in the meditation circle. Deomin was now on-board with the larger possibility of him being “lost”

“Alright.” He told the importunate priests. “Just a little meditation. I really have to be on my way after lunch.”

Edging his way around the circle until he was next to the attractive woman, Deomin began moving with the priests in their ritual dance. As with meditation, nothing in the temple of Akadi is ever at rest. Blowing, rolling, fluttering, every decoration is a tribute to the changing nature of things. Deomin and the other acolytes paid attention to the head priest initially, following his movements until it became time to break free and move according to their own inspiration. Deomin was “inspired” to dance with the beautiful woman as much as he could, but was unable to work out how to speak with her.

Sensitive to Deomin’s increasingly obvious intentions the woman began to weave curving patterns in the air with her dexterous fingers. Familiar trails of tinted wind flowed around her before unraveling toward Deomin. The arcane wind was cool filling his lungs with a slight pressure as the air moved into his blood and circulated through his body. Deomin stopped his dancing and shivered as the cold increased. Reaching his mind Deomin felt his thoughts go blank as if someone else had begun to think for him. Lighter than a feather he embraced the intoxicating sensation and yielded to its guidance.

Deomin awoke for the second time that day on a overstuffed bed wrapped in the softest sheets he ever felt. The lady stood above him.

“Thank you for opening your mind to me.”

Deomin was unable to suppress a wide grin. “What did you do?”

The woman giggled and leaned over the bed. “I joined with your essence. You are a very interesting person.”

Flattery was going far with Deomin. He was about to confess his undying love for this woman when she stopped him and pulled out an amulet. Spinning at the end of a gleaming silver chain was a diamond shaped Medallion decorated with a sculpted woman’s face. The edges of the amulet were set with a variety of jewels representing the different elemental powers. At the cardinal points larger gems glittered indicating the four base elements. Deomin senses the power in the amulet and in his distraction he forgets the woman entirely.

“Akadi can join with all who breathe air. We are all one family, fed by the life-giving air that sustains us.” The priestess giggles a little bit at Deomin’s fascination. To her the amulet, though special, is a very familiar object. She has worked for many years to successfully wield its power and sees Deomin’s curiosity as child-like.

Fascinated by the amulet Deomin instinctually falls into his elemental power. Blue tinted air flows forth from Deomin, filling the room and coiling itself around the priestess. The jewels hold him spellbound. As his focus shifts from gem to gem, his sensitivities align with different elements. The large aquamarine cools his face giving his skin a moist sensation. He can faintly hear the voice of the Lady of Water. A clear purple gem, an amethyst, responds with lightning causing his hair to stand on end with static energy. Echoing inside his mind Deomin hears a deep sailors voice that can only be captain Ramis.

Deomin shifts his attention to the diamond above the face of Akadi. The world of air around him comes alive. His sensitivities toward elemental air when focused through the amulet extend past the space surrounding him and into living creatures. He feels the sensation of entering the priestess’s mind. The energy of her body begins to respond to his thoughts. Her memories softly dance in the recesses of Deomin’s mind.

Now the priestess stares agape at Deomin. The level of manipulation he demonstrates is beyond natural talent.

“Who are you?” She entreats.

“I am Deomin.” He replies. “This amulet is very special.”

“You walk with Akadi’s blessing.” Offers the woman without hesitation. “Take the amulet. It will surely help you on your journey.”

“It is time for me to go.” Deomin says reluctantly. “What is your name?”

Deomin has already discovered her name and she knows it. With a smile on her face she tells him for the first time. “Lailah. Don’t forget it.”

Deomin climbs aboard Thunderstrike later that afternoon. The amulet dangles from his belt, its array of jewels sparkling in the sun. Looking at his friends he sees deeper into their essences than he ever has before. Wrenn’s firey soul burns like a campfire, hungering for fuel to increase its flame. Arora sits shining as always. Its easier to see it now that she cant hide behind her tough-girl demeanor. Brandis with his haughty swagger appears relaxed and casual, but at his core an uninterrupted balance pervades his every action. Hugh stands alone by the railing, ever vigilant of dangers that might lurk. Invisible green and golden leaves swirl about him as he keeps watch. Despite his ventures into the world, his essence is one of home and hearth, a father to those who stand with him.

Deomin cares deeply for each one of them and feels compassion for the suffering that they all must pass through together. The idea strikes him that he might be able to reach into their souls and bolster their courage. A warm cloak against the travail that is sure to come. As the ship lifts off and Khaz begins yelling about losing precious time, Deomin counters with a “YAAAARRRRRRR!” and climbs up to the crow’s nest.

Truly in his element, Deomin watches the world slip away far beneath him. He enjoys the view while it lasts.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » January 18th, 2011, 5:56 pm

With all the NPCs floating around in our group I thought it would be fun and helpful to give an update on Deomin’s relationship with each of the heroes we have teamed up with on our journey.

Note: This was a work in progress that I started before the events that threw the group back in time. Deomin reconnecting with Colban and his eventual death arent part of what I wrote here.

Kalla: The man who started it all. Deomin was initially pretty negative about taking any sort of oaths given their recent experiences with the Cult of Therizdun. After a leap of faith he was glad that he did. Kalla has been a trusted mentor and friend to Deomin throughout their journey. His grove is a sanctuary where Deomin can feel at home and decompress when things are difficult. Kalla became especially beloved when he helped Deomin restore Kaylar to living form after she died protecting him during the battle against Yargo. After Kalla was struck down by Arath’s magical trap Deomin grieved for days. Deomin’s loyalty to Kalla is motivation enough for him to take great risks to restore his friend.

Frida: Frida was initially a pretty funny joke. Hypersensitive to prodding about her age, Deomin enjoyed riling her up when things got slow, but after a few weeks the joke became boring to him. Then the group journeyed into the Snowflake mountains and Frida dressed up like the bottom layer of a snowman. A few more weeks of joking were enjoyed. When Frida made an entire beholder disappear into another plane of existence the joking pretty much ended there. Deomin doesn’t fear magic as he did before, but he doesn’t mess with it unnecessarily. Frida is all magic all day so other than arguing over the last share of dessert(Deomin and Frida both have a pretty big sweet tooth) they don’t associate too much.

Khaz Dunlin: Deomin loves Khaz. Khaz Dunlin is one of the most thrill seeking, larger than life people Deomin has ever met. He loves to hear Khaz relate his many seafaring tales with colorful descriptions and even more colorful language. Khaz puts up with Deomin’s terrible sailor’s accent because Deomin makes a huge effort to help run the ship. Whether its manning the crows nest or cleaning the cargo bays, Khaz knows that Deomin doesn’t avoid his work. Deomin would laugh at anybody who tried to talk ill of Khaz Dunlin…right before tossing the guy through a window.

Heptos: Heptos and Deomin got started on the wrong foot after waking up on the wrong side of the bed. His astral demeanor and staring of into the distance don’t really match with Deomin’s blustery personality. Additionally, they don’t see eye to eye on Arath at all. Arora has recently expressed her goal to impose justice on Arath, but Heptos was the first to expound on the evils of the eladrin…also Deomin just likes Arora a lot more. Deomin has always felt connected to the fate of Arath and resists when people condemn him too quickly or too harshly. After arguing with Heptos about Arath, his feelings were amplified when the Devas tried to hold them against their will at the Philosopher’s temple. Deomin doesn’t like cages and he doesn’t care much for Heptos.

Grosh: Deomin played a VERY active role in the recruitment of Grosh. Deomin was alone when Grosh showed up to ask for a job. He did it in such an intimidating way that Deomin thought that he was looking for a fight. After his intentions were clarified, Deomin thought to himself, “He tried to be friendly, but I thought he wanted a fight…I wonder what he looks like when he wants to fight?” Deomin was sure that this mighty warrior was the draft pick of the century and was more than happy to bring him into the next battle. During that fight it was Grosh himself that knocked Deomin unconscious through the release of ferocious primal energies. All of this only confirmed Deomin’s opinion on the matter. After having his back in Neverwinter, Deomin was sad that Grosh had to stay on the surface during the tournament. With luck, Grosh will find a way to be first mate of Thunderstrike and adventure with the crew during their activities overboard!

Klethan: Klethan is a weirdo, but Deomin has come to consider him a friend. From day one, Deomin and Klethan have had some stuff in common and some huge differences. Common interests include, twin blade sword styles, polished hunting skills, and a genuine interest in helping the group. Points of difference include Klethan is a prince, Klethan talks to rocks, Klethan once was a cat with wings, and Klethan reads books. After a pretty snotty intro, Klethan mellowed out a bit and Deomin was able to connect. Deomin really wants to see Klethan become King of Ulgarth and he knows that Klethan wants to help the group succeed. Time will tell whether their individual quirks will make their shared common ground too small to stand on.

Zahar: Deomin’s opinion of Zahar is best characterized in a single word. Respect. Zahar is the guy who has done it all and doesn’t look for a minute like he’s about to stop. On or off of Thunderstrike don’t mistake minimal interaction between Deomin and Zahar for fear or avoidance. Deomin sees Zahar as a guy who is 'going to get his' and if he wants Deomin’s help or opinion, he knows where to find him. Zahar often engages in duels and training with different members of the group and Deomin knows that in terms of martial skill Zahar may be the most talented guy onboard. The chance of a significant duel between Zahar and Deomin is remote because they have already done battle and Deomin knows where things stand. Maybe without the power of Uchehi Zahar is on the level of the group, but with the might and spirit of the Shadar-Kai nation in his hands…get the fuck out of the way.

Kaylar: Are you kidding me? If you don’t know what this relationship means to Deomin, watch more Thursday Knights. Back in the heroic tier Deomin bailed on the group and went after Kaylar when she got spooked during a fight. Days passed before he abandoned the search and reluctantly returned to his non-animal friends. Deomin found that Kaylar had been tracking HIM during the entire search and later returned to him in a time of need. Kaylar was the faithful friend that defended the group’s mounts while they delved into the mines of Rastor and was the only one who stayed with Deomin during his volatile period of transformation. Deomin’s heart broke when Kaylar sacrificed herself during the fight against Yargo to buy he and Brandis some cover from Yargo’s devilish flying machine. Afterward he went to dangerous lengths to achieve the impossible when he assisted Kalla in restoring Kaylar’s primal spirit into a powerful new hippogriff body. Wanna know about how Kaylar kicks ass? Read in Deomin’s Deeds about the latest escape from Orveyaltar.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » March 17th, 2011, 1:56 am

Rushing wind fills the long empty tunnel with a droning hollow tone as two figures tread purposefully toward the single set of doors in the distance.

“It is time to pay the balance of our antics then?” One of the figures, tall and lithe, moves with irregular strides. Where his legs might have met the carved stone floor instead a column of water flows forward beneath him with the ebb and flow of splashing waves.

“It's never much fun unless you can get a rise out of someone.” The other figure replies. “Besides, I’m here because I want to be. You can go if you like.” The other figure, a pale young woman moves with the lightness of a leaf blown on an autumn breeze.

Splashes of pastel colors adorn her legs, body, and face in dynamic swirling patterns that lend mildness to the near white hue of her delicate skin. Lace wrappings curl around her shapely form as loose strands flutter behind her in the constant breeze.

The sound of raindrops falling in a quiet meadow constitute a chuckle from the tall figure. “Like it or not, we are both here on summoning of MORADIN, so no point in trying to leave early.” At the mention of the god's name the figure swells his bare torso to several times its previous size. His light green skin appears muscled and hard as the figure mimics the chiseled stone appearance of the serious dwarven god.

The pair share a laugh like the salt spray at a rocky coastline. Water and air mingle with delightful interplay whilst the stone doors in the distance loom closer and larger.
_______________________________________________________________

Seated atop his great stone throne, Moradin contemplates the unsavory role that has befallen him. Deep respect for the balance of elements makes him too often a liaison to beings from the chaos. Part of the time he feels respect for the energetic primordials who rule that plane; their zest for wielding power embodies life and satisfaction. More often though, he wishes to take up his hammer and beat some sense into the flighty creatures. Meetings like this, though infrequent, are usually followed with some energetic labor at his forge.

Considering the destructive impact of the titanic storms on the people of Toril causes anger to rise in the powerful god. The great deity grips the arms of his throne in response to thousands of voices that echo in his mind. Drawing steadfastness and resolution from the artifact's harmonizing powers, his mind finds relief in the rhythmic emanations that bring order to his thoughts.

Cut and engraved by his own hand, Moradin's throne is decorated with runes and reliefs that describe the entire history, past, present, and future of the dwarven race. A single image wrought here may represent many events and carvings connect with one another to reveal deeper truths about his favored people. Moradin always sits upon this throne when passing judgment on other creatures. In addition to the wisdom and power gained, it ranks among his most breathtaking works.

Across the chamber, a massive stone door splits down the middle with brittle cracks and begins to swing open. Stone grinding upon stone fills the chamber and long dark tunnel beyond with dry friction. Two figures stand at the threshold waiting for permission to enter.

Before them stands the great god Moradin poised on his legendary throne. Plate armor glistening with obsidian darkness creating a steel shell of impenetrable strength and beauty. Exposed edges sparkle like graphite as rays of light from enchanted torches coat his figure with luminescent majesty. In this realm the All-Father of Dwarves is judge, jury and executioner. Court is held this day because Akadi, Queen of Air, has overstepped her bounds, drawing the gods attention and securing an “invitation” to the Astral Sea.

Tremors shake the ground beneath them as Moradin speaks in a deep booming voice.

“Recent storms have caused much suffering over the face of Faerun. Is this an act of sedition?”

The question hangs thick in the air, heavy with suggestion. Several primordials chose to abstain from the fighting that took place in the Dawn War. As a result, those primordials were permitted to rule the Elemental Chaos in league with the gods. Though much time has passed, the alliance has always been tenuous.

Akadi tilts her head as a breeze lifts her long hair. Pastel shades of blue, pink, and yellow rise beautifully in shimmering waves as she regards the hard face of Moradin. With a blunt affect the dwarven god waits for his answer unaffected by the rainbow cascade swirling about her body.

“You speak of war, Moradin. A war that we have never fought, you and I. You believe I have changed my mind? That now is the time for conflict between us? The gods are very protective of the Material Plane, yet you mistake a show of power for the real danger at hand.”

Istishia regards Moradin with an amused look on his face. Pauldrons of pearlescent seashell glimmer on his shoulders along with other such plating at his wrists and waist. He opens his mouth to speak when he is suddenly interrupted by crashing thunder.

Entering the room from a hidden chamber, Umberlee, the Bitch Queen of the Sea, strides forward to face the primordials. Rage contorts her face as a mane of crackling lightning spills off her head and down her back. Pushing through dark mists that roll off her deep blue frame she raises her hands accusingly at Akadi.

“Show of POWER! You risk your own destruction with such bold acts! THAT POWER IS MINE!” Offended at Akadi’s illicit show of elemental power, the enraged goddess presses toward her primordial contender as the room fills with static charge.

A look of concern flashes across the face of Akadi. She had expected Umberlee present, but had not suspected the sudden entrance or impulsive aggression.

Istishia intervenes. Raising his arms in welcome to the raging Bitch Queen, he speaks smilingly to the Goddess of Sea and Storm. “Umberlee my Queen. Your power is unquestionable. Speak with us and hear no challenge to your divine might.” Deep waters move within him as his voice projects forward filling the room with sound and moisture that quash the electricity of Umberlee’s rage.

“SPEAK AKADI!” Moradin, now standing, dominates the unexpected conflict. Eyes glowing with radiant power, the diety summons a heavy stone table from the floor of the chamber. Fissures crack and strain along the floor freeing an elliptical stone which slowly rises up between the feuding dieties.

Floating to the table opposite Umberlee, Akadi raises her voice, “The Spell Plague has weakened barriers of separation between the planes. Elemental realms stand embroiled in chaos after collapsing into one when the plague began. It is barely within my strength to maintain the integrity of Sky Home amidst the ruin. Do not think this cataclysm soley directed against the elemental realms. Returned Abeir has already crushed a large portion of Toril and much of the topography or Faerun has changed since that event.”

Umberlee continues to fume as her gaze remains locked on Akadi. Moradin listens impassively, though he is seated once more at the head of the stone table.

“The Spell Plague is not your only concern." she continues, "Forces apart from chance or fate work to hasten the crumbling of your precious material plane. My seekers roam the land encountering cultists of elemental evil and factions working to enlarge and spread the plaguelands. If the primordials of Returned Abeir are awakened, what do you think will happen? If the Elemental Chaos is opened and drowns Toril in boling magma and harrying winds what will happen then?”

Ire has grabbed ahold of Akadi, bearing her aloft. Now floating several feet above the table, Akadi speaks condescendingly toward all of the gods, present and absent.”What will happen is you will ride out from the Astral Sea and crush the primordials. Every one of us. Meanwhile, your followers below will boil and die until your empty world is unfit to be swallowed by the Abyss.”

The room is quiet as thoughts of the Dawn War flicker back into memory. Millions of mortal lives have passed quietly in and out of the world since that time, yet for immortals it is but a moment ago that the conflict seemed unending.

Moradin leans forward in his throne and speaks deliberately and deeply, each word carefully crafted as if sculpted on the God’s own fiery anvil. “You have our attention, Akadi, but you act too quickly. Our labor on the Material Plane is bound by the primal spirits that truly rule there. As you have acted in the past, so must we now; through our followers.”

Istishia turns to look at Akadi floating above the room and smiles, for he trusted in her cleverness since the beginning. Akadi’s eyes glitter with knowing satisfaction. “That is why I chose to come here. You may not know of my followers, but I know a few of yours.”

Looking down at the stone table, a gust of radiant wind sweeps across its surface leaving in its wake images of four small figures; Deomin perched on the top of Skyclave, Captain Ramis aboard the bridge of the Reducktar, The Lady of Water in an Oasis filled with pure water bordered by sparkling glass stones, and Colban sitting in the middle of Deep Imaskar on a stone chair that is the exact copy of Moradin’s throne.

“RAMIS!” Screeches Umberlee. “What have you done with him you meddling harpy!” as Umberlee continues in unstable accusations, Akadi looks to Moradin’s face.

A careful easiness gradually releases the hard lines on the Dwarffather's face. Grim and blank throughout the entire proceedings, Moradin’s countenance finally softens and for a few moments he smiles widely at the image of the young goliath seated above cheering crowds in Deep Imaskar.

Istishia leans over the table with a silly grin on his face, pining at The Lady of Water. “Oh my dear lady, when will you return to me!”

Moradin interrupts Istishia’s yearning and quiets Umberlee’s tirade. “How do you know of these people? What importance do they have to you?”

Content to fulfill the reason for her journey to the Astral Sea, Akadi explains Deomin’s purpose, and plight. “I commission all my seekers to find and destroy incidences of elemental incursion on Toril from the Elemental Chaos. Deomin showed early promise when he faced a prince of elemental evil. This particular fellow however, traversed an unexpected path. Since he began his journeys as a seeker he has found no elemental enemies, only friends. Your followers number among his allies.”

Moradin considers Deomin and reflects upon his connection with the other elemental creatures. Stepping down from his throne, he runs his fingers over images at the base. Colban's earthen form is etched unmistakably among the throne's many decorations. Eyes fixed on the image of Colban, Moradin speaks. “Where is Deomin?”

“I don’t know” the simple reply.

“What?” Moradin face is severe once more. He has had his fill of Akadi’s trickery and wishes to be done with her.

“He is beyond my sight.” Akadi continues, "His body was recently destroyed, yet his essence never joined me in Sky Home."

Moradin’s eyes narrow. “You wish to find him? Very well. Do not, however, raise a finger to release him from whatever hinders his passing. Your interference in the ecology of Faerun has reached its limit. Tell me what you find, and when you find it. Bring angels to attend you.”

Akadi laughs out loud at the final suggestion and turns to depart.

Moradin roars once more. “The angels WILL attend you. And face my justice should you misstep once again.”

Victorious in her politics, Akadi and Istishia retreat through the mighty doors and down the long stone tunnel. A new question fills the hearts and minds of beings at the highest levels of power...Where is Deomin?
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » March 23rd, 2011, 7:11 pm

Deomin is born on a cold morning deep in Narfell just south of the Great Glacier. Outside of the animal skin dwelling, whirling dervishes of dry snow spring from the permafrost that hardens the ground nine months of the year. Dueling furiously with one another these chance creations of animated ice crystals spend their fleeting seconds in a rush of movement, dancing and fighting one another until their breath is exhausted and their crystalline bodies are reabsorbed into the bleak terrain that is the frozen plain of Morrigarten.

Generations in the harsh wilderness of the Frozen Garden have taught the Cold Moon clan to respect the mood of this land and permit the elements to guide their nomadic travels to and fro across the plain. Follow the food, weather the storm, listen to the wind: three wise truths of the Cold Moon clan who have lived in Morrigarten longer than any other people in the history of Faerun. The final wise truth of the Cold Moon people is never stand alone. No man or beast can survive alone in the Garden else he disappears like the whirling dervish that fritters its life and dissolves into nothing. For a time Deomin would lose this truth, but Arch Druid Selhomin Glabbear said that the four wise truths are frozen deep inside each of the Cold Moon and to remove them, one would have to melt more ice than could be found in all of the Great Glacier.

A loving tribe welcomes Deomin into the world that sharp crystal morning and soon he is handed to the clan elder, Archdruid Georun Felnar, Deomin’s grandfather. Georun Felnar, powerful Wind Druid of the Frozen Garden can hear inklings of truth, past, present and future in the air that flows through his homeland. The shrieks, howls and whispers that rush endlessly throughout the Garden communicate with Georun granting him the understanding to portend coming events. His old eyes have seen death, disease, hunger and evil, but the same eyes also know wisdom and Georun relishes the opportunity to pass that wisdom along over the many years he will share with his grandson. Georun takes the babe and in its first minute of life and brings it outside the tent to know the world.

Babes of the Cold Moon tribe must face the world before them and learn how to meet its challenge. A right of passage and acceptance is performed on all children in honor of this principle and to test their resolve. Standing before the clan Georun begins to rub Deomin's small body with a mix of dry snow and potent herbs found in some of the more treacherous parts of the Garden. The herbs and snow induce waves of heat and cold that confuse Deomin’s senses, burning and stinging with increasing strength. Infants eventually succumb to the rapid fluctuations of temperature and begin to sweat and shiver uncontrollably. Much is expected from those children who endure the ritual without crying though many years have passes since such a baby was born.

Deomin opens his eyes for the first time and widens them to the limit as he feels the sensation of the arcane ablutions. He takes in full the face of his wizened grandfather and holds it for a moment as the seasoned ice crystals intensify the ordeal. Suddenly the baby cries out, not in tears, but in the most sparkling of laughs. The singsong voice of the elves is most apparent in their young and Deomin sounds like a chorus of pixies singing on equinox as he embraces the icy-hot waves coursing through his body.

A cheer rolls out over the crowd and preparations for a feast begin. The elven community is ablaze in conversation about the success of a recent experiment, the power of their Archdruid, and what wonderful things the future holds for their clan.
________________________________________________________________________________

Georun sits meditating in the shadow of five massive crystalline obelisks. Miles away from the clan and excitement of the day Georun is left to wonder at what might come of his meddling. Only a few months ago the entire clan gathered here with a tribe of windsoul genasi from the town of Kos-Hanná on the Great Glacier. Here at the site of Minas Silima(crystal towers) Georun and Talaph-Kai, elder of the genasi savati, used powerful primal magics to infuse the Cold Moon elves with the elemental blood of windsoul genasi. Since that day the frigid Garden air has stung less to members of the Cold Moon clan and the wind itself lingers on their skin as it passes. Deomin is the first child to be born since that day.

Listening to the winds whistling past his old ears Georun still feels it. Something evil is coming. Unless he can lead his people out onto the Great Glacier and follow the genasi into seclusion, he is sure his clan will die.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » April 6th, 2011, 4:10 pm

Corellon patrols his lush garden in celestial Arvendor. Uldaia trees cover his path with a canopy of emerald leaves high above him. Ever reaching, ever changing the Uldaia remind him of his beloved Tel-quessir. Their diversity and strength of are a constant source of delight to him during unstable times. At times battling pessismism and darkness, Eladrin magic and elven grace are the fuel that stoke his curiosity for what the future holds.

The radiant landscape warms Corellon's body and mind as he reaches out across the planes to Faerun. His children, the Tel-quessir, have changed so much over time; subraces becoming races and races evolving even beyond their mortal origins. Eladrin now are so very different from those first creatures to tread the mystic forests of the Fey Wild. Exposure to arcane magics sparked the development of diverse supernatural abilities and created a class of Noble Eladrin. Above all their kin the supreme Arch Fey wield power equal to a demi-god. Presently Corellon, the First of the Seldarine, observes the myriad cultures and communities of his favored people: eladrin, elves, drow, avariel, lythari, and celadrin.

Tending to his people this day reveals a new branch on the growing Uldaia tree of the Tel-quessir. One small community of elves in Narfell has begun to change. Shifts in their anatomy are raising their sensitivity to the elemental energies around them as they become unified with the cool winds of their homeland. Corellon eagerly monitors the effects of time on these isolated souls who their lives on the frozen plain of Morrigarten.
_______________________________________________________________

Passing easily through the biting winds a Shadow melts from the darkness. Nothing interrupts his vision as he scans the horizon. Dread resolution etched on his face proves the cruelty in his heart.

With sinister intent the lone invader begins walking toward distant elven settlement. Underfoot he thoughtlessly crushes a winter star as he proceeds upon his deadly purpose. Though unknown to him, the sacred plant is venerated by the people who call this land their home. Tonight there is no one to save it.
_________________________________________________________________

If men were watching the child run they would shake their heads in sadness and say to each other, “What a shame. He will surely die of exposure.” If women were watching the child they might open their arms and try to welcome him into a warm embrace, desperate to shield him from the punishing elements that relentlessly harry him. Tonight no one is near as Deomin runs through the darkness, cold and alone.

Deomin, so young, so afraid, so alone. Sprinting with every bit of his god given speed into the winter night, the four year old elf flees a harrowing scene of death and destruction. Elemental scars of fire, ice, and earth cover the small area where Deomin’s clan was camped an hour ago. Without warning or known cause the Shadow arrived. Tearing a rift in the sky, the entire clan was either slaughtered or dragged into the void. In the morning Deomin will wake huddled in the cleft of a snow bank. He will never remember how he escaped. He will never remember that during one dark night on the frozen plain of Morrigarten, the world of chaos reached out its claws and ripped his world away.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » April 28th, 2011, 4:30 pm

On a snowy path deep in a winter forest Hirson McVarlane forsook his student and faithful partner, betraying him to assassins in a despicable move of self-preservation. Deomin’s faith in others shattered in response, leaving him in constant paranoia of others' treachery. Veiled by a violent lifestyle of conflict, his past is a journey through the forest of solitude traveling upon paths marked by fear and doubt.

At the heart of his fear is misunderstanding, a place within where he cannot go and will not look. Therein lays a possibility which is too terrifying to accept. Denying the fear and avoiding its source offered Deomin a reality where the fear doesn’t exist. Through the lens of denial the world is Deomin's enemy. A hostile place where his only option is survival.

His efforts to reject everyone is an exhausting procecess and he cannot help but see the truth of his charade. He knows that the demons are not in the world, but inside himself. Years, decades, later fear smolders within, waiting for the spark to re-ignite the all consuming fires again.

Losing his family into the ether was the first blow that was immediately compounded by years of hardship as an orphan. By contrast Hirson rescuing him from that existence seemed nothing short of salvation. Life as a bounty hunter became everything to Deomin. It was his livelihood, his passion, his identity. Struck with grief at the deep betrayal of his mentor he warped the picture of his own family’s departure. Deomin saw betrayal everywhere, directed at him, forcing him into a cold life with nothing and no one. Devastated by fear and grief, Deomin killed Hirson after tracking him for several years across the Frozen North. Vengeance drowned him in his denial and he accepted his unique circumstances as “the way things really are”.

Filled with emptiness and abandonment, Deomin lived like an animal who wished only for survival. Society became the enemy, the wilds his ally and sanctuary. Anything that pressed him to integrate with others and risk further betrayal incited hostility from him and sent him back into the wilderness for months until, inexplicably, he would start to show his face in some border town.

It is no coincidence that he felt safe approaching his companions for the first time only because he had a contract to kill them. Nothing short of a miracle could explain Deomin reattaching himself to the world of people. Truly without his physical transformation, an emotional one would have been impossible. Even so, the fear was not destroyed. In moments of desperation, cornered, Deomin’s fears would emerge.

In the maelstrom prison of the Shadow Deomin was once again isolated from his closest connections. The torterous imprisonment filled him once again with the realization of his greatest fears. Demons from his past stalked forward to fill his mind with questions. "Where were his friends? Would the come?" As time passes more sinister doubts emerge." Why did they let this happen? Were they a part of this?" Then, most painful of all, "They betrayed me."
Wracked with pain and doubt for over a month, Deomin finally confronted his fear.

Fear is an emotional wound that lacks a natural form of recovery. Some wounds are bad enough that more pain is the only way. Like the barbed arrow lodged in the meat of a leg or belly, to cure the wound one must first cut deeper. In this manner Deomin embraced the pain, opening his minds eyes for the first time in many years to many tragic events in his past. Young suffering; undeserved, unattended, unacknowledged burned his heart with searing grief. Deomin let the sadness wash over him recognizing that grey piece of himself for the first time. With courage came clarity and in his travail he was granted true perspective.

Friends, family, mentors, their true colors are revealed and nothing is chance. His family was gone, but they did not leave Deomin by any choice of their own. Their love, akin to that of his friends, has sheltered Deomin from suffering instead of bringing it upon him. Deomin's treacherous mentor was selfish from the start, caring for Deomin only because it was advantageous to him.

Armed with understanding for the first time in decades, Deomin uses the pain to cauterize the fear in himself. Resolve replaces it. With a whole heart and determination, he patiently weathers the suffering inflicted at the hands of the shadow, learning what he can about an invasion from the elemental chaos. Learning and waiting for the day he knew would come; the day when he would greet the appearance of friendly faces.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin

Re: Deomin's Deeds

Postby Eric Holland » May 30th, 2011, 2:33 pm

Cold days, hot days, long days. The alien sky-scape hanging over the unstable horizon greets Deomin as his forays into the Elemental Chaos grow longer and more frequent. Solitary weeks hunting for sign of friend and foe provide him with time and space to think following the hectic events surrounding the rise and fall of Arath.

Constant searching for his clan keeps thoughts of his comrades in the foreground. The people he really knows. A history of his life replays, rewinds, and retraces. Over and over people and places flow through his mind, memories becoming his only companions as he returns to a lifestyle of isolation that he has not known for some years.

Contacts that he makes in this strange place seem foreign to him, reminding him of a past life when he wandered alone through the gritty towns of southeastern Faerun. Revisiting this mindset of solitude becomes a catalyst for understanding. For the first time Deomin grasps the difference between himself and the ordinary people who surround him. It was the gaping difference between himself and the Quorum back when they first met. They had cared so much, when Deomin had cared so little.

Each of the five heroes walked different paths fraught with unique challenges and separate destinies, but what each of them held so strongly in common was investment in this life. Each one was passionately committed to a cause strong enough to press them forward in the face of danger, surmounting virtually any obstacle. Deomin was bereft of meaning when he happened upon this passionate group and inexplicably he was drawn to that shared fire. Not until he had spent months with them and undergone many trials did Deomin begin to care for his life and share somewhat in that flame.

Unlike his companions who sought changes in the world and fought tirelessly for justice, renown, safety, or respect, Deomin’s focus was reflexive in nature. Changes in the world continued to be unimportant, yet Deomin cared deeply about his companions who lit the fire within and reconnected him to the world. Just like Brandis who would never cease to seek out legend, Wrenn who would earn the adulation and respect of all, Hugh who would bring safety and comfort to the world, and Arora who would impose justice and set things right, Deomin would never stop caring about any of them. No matter what.

As fate pulled Arath away from them, everyone saw the eladrin begin to threaten what they care most about. Some even saw that his defeat might offer a way forward. One by one the companions released their bond with him. Arath who threatened the legend and whose defeat might secure it. Arath who, when deposed, would set a global benchmark for Wrenn’s ever increasing power. Arath who eviscerated safe havens across the world and sent countless innocents out into the cold. If ever a debt to justice was incurred, the scales were heavy laden against the man widely know as “The Mad Mage,” for his blindness matched his selfishness, matched his power.

Deomin alone never let him go. He never could and he never would because Arath was one of five people who Deomin would never stop caring about. No matter what. Deomin cared like Arath cared for his rise to supremecy, cared as much as Brandis for his legend, Wrenn for his audience, Hugh for his safety, and Arora for justice. What Deomin learned from his friends about caring, is that when you care about something, you never give up, never stop, and never let it go.

Marching out across the Elemental Chaos Deomin observes the uncaring masses that move about in uncommitted lives. The odds of anyone of them slowing him down or rearranging his priorities is beyond impossible. In victory or defeat anyone who knows a thing about Deomin knows the 5 names that keep him going. Arath, Brandis, Wrenn, Hugh, and Arora.
Eric Holland
TK Player
 
Posts: 487
Joined: February 7th, 2010, 2:00 pm
Character Name: Deomin


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