Thar Shaddin

The woods were thick, dark and oppressive, looming over in a black canopy, the occasional shaft of bright light that pierced the makeshift ceiling. Octavius moved swiftly along the dirt path between massive expanses of wooded forest.

This would be the last time he would have to sojourn through these dismal forests, the last time he would have to suffer the humid temperatures, the annoying insects that continued to buzz around his head, and the occasional rustling from the undergrowth, causing him to stop dead in his tracks.

He had finally managed to sell his family home. The dilapidated old building was on its last legs, but would serve a family for a few more seasons. That's what he told them anyway. In truth the building would collapse ion a few days when Octavius's rune of holding ran out of power. It didn't really bother him that the family might die, it wasn't his problem.

But they were worthless, expendable.

His tutor had finally left, after Octavius beat him in a duel, as his tutor had predicted at their first lesson. It had not been easy, bruises and welts covered most of his arms, and he had fractured two ribs from where's his tutor's animated silver fist had sent him into a solid stone wall. He had healed them, but he never did bother to learn much of the healing arts. The best form of defense being attack, he reminded himself.

Hehe, you've started thinking about him again haven't you?...

Octavius winced as the slurred, rasping voice uncoiled itself in his mind, its voice grinding against his mental suppression.

Ooh, now that's rude! You know you like talking to me really... I'm the only one you can't get rid of hehe...

Shut up, this is not the time for a running monologue

He stopped walking and closed his eyes, bringing up both hands and resting the tips of his fingers just below them. He visualized the large metal box, covered with locks and chains, and placed the voice in it, locked the box and secured it with chains and welded it shut.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. It was getting gradually harder to do that, each time required more concentration. But the power it gave him made up for any shortcomings in 'its' personality.

The forest started to clear, massive towering foliage began to be replaced by long lying pasture, grazing land for animals. He could see the high hills that boarded Marn. Soon he would be in the city, far away from that disgusting little town, with its disgusting little people.

He twitched in scorn, and resumed his quick pace towards Marn, and towards his future...

Sitting by the side of the road, a woman of impressive proportions took a long drink of water from a large half-scallop shell that hung around her wrist by a cord; an old pilgrim method, the shell was good as a bowl, a plate, and a cup. Water dripped between her prominent fangs and dribbled a little down her chin. She wiped it away, sighed contentedly, and leaned back in the grass. Life was good. Beneath her the crushed and broken stems smelled of spring, her floor that never needed sweeping, and above her small birds cast fleeting shadows across the path, dark against the bright blue sky that served as her ceiling. When the whole world is home, one cannot be homesick, she reflected.

Looking north up the path, she could barely see a dark smudge on the horizon under a haze of white smoke, or maybe steam, or maybe just a heavy, omnipresent fog. Regardless, the city of Marn was not far now. The half-ogre hoped that the city people would be a little more forgiving of her blood--she had once heard that cities were generally cesspools of violence and sin. The truth of that opinion had not yet been verified, but if it was true then a half-ogre would fit right in. The people might not be nice, but at least no one would try chasing her with pitchforks and setting visiting adventurers on her.

She turned slightly to scoop another shell-full of water from the drainage ditch behind her--the cleanliness of the drink didn't bother her at all--and was about to take a sip when she spotted a figure moving along the path in the direction she had first come, away from the forest. Her dark brown eyes watched the person with interest over the rim of her shell. She considered hiding, as she had previously done to avoid other travelers (thank the fates the road was ill-traveled), but decided against it. He was only one man, she noted as he neared, and apparently unarmed. Why should she hide anyway? She had as much right to the road as anyone.

"Hello there, friend." she called. Her voice was deep and mellow and surprisingly feminine, the kind of voice which, if she'd had the body to match, would have made her well celebrated on the stage. Unfortunately, it was the only pleasant thing about her. "It is always well to meet other travelers such as myself. Is it safe to assume you, too, are journeying to Marn?" she asked in a friendly tone, affecting a friendly smile that, with her jutting fangs, didn't quite work.

Octavius turned round slowly, his vision slowly climbing up the rather mammoth frame in front of him. He cocked his head slightly as he took in the whole image that towered over him.

<Ah its a half breed, haven't seen one of those for a long time, maybe you should kill it, find out how it works inside...>

Octavius flinched visibly, curling his lip and tightening his fists, the leather of his gloves griding.

Sorry, you must excuse my manner, I am ... unused to traveling. My name is Octavius, I am indeed heading towards Marn, and would be glad of the company. I can only talk to myself for so long without it becoming a hassle.

Deep within his mind, the dark coiled rasping voice laughed its corrupted wheezing laugh.

(( Thread closed due to inactivity ))