(This was one of my favorite postings from the days when I was an avid role-player on the internet. I know, it's kind of smug for a person of my slothly composure to boast of such past doings as if they outshine the greatest of the great, but rather I just want to post it on here so that I may read it latter with having to search for it again... And perhaps to share it with you. So without further delay..)
"The Calm Amidst the Storm" by Trux - Inspired by Flash Guardian
It had been a long time since Blue had walked from the mainland to the island, the long stretch between Redfang and the keep's land nothing but a ever-shifting plane of shimmering blue waters. The long journey had usually always been enough to deter a man such as himself from making the trip on his own without the aid of ship, flight, or steed to bring him there. But today, everything felt different and new, the extended path towards the crimson isle actually exciting him for a change.
The azure planescape slowed it rolling movement as it crackled and hardened beneath the soles of his silver buckled shoes, the very touch of the wandering aristocrat turning the waters into solid ice. No incantations, no mystic words accompanied this miracle, the essence of his winter magic simply flowing naturally from his being. His worried looks and concerned expression he usually carried with him had dropped to an infinitesimally small amount, a beaming smile appearing beneath his painstakingly well groomed moustache.
A certain vivacious hop pushed him into the air with every occasional step, leaving a small gap in the frozen walkway behind as he bounded along the seemingly endless expanse. The cause of the leap had been yet unknown to those who had happened to spy the foppish lord treading down along the icy path, that same wide smile still and always showing how satisfied and content he was with whatever good luck had come his way. But perhaps it wasn't luck that made him saunter the way he did, but rather a feeling as if things were meant to be this way. How wonderful it was to be alive for him! Even now, his mind had been clouded with the images of his most precious and cherished treasures, the things that brought him the most joy as a man and as a new husband. Already, a chill had gone down his spine as he pondered the possibilities, a crisp breeze picking up as the man shivered. Both hand flew into each other's deep silver-lined cuffs, the duke drawing his shoulder up high as he loosed a shaky breath.
It had not been the frost gust of wind that caused the musician to shiver as he did, but the visions of his beloved that shook his very being and weakened his knees so that he may bow before such a superior creature. Almost otherworldly to him she was, beyond the beauty and grace of any angel that could be sent down from Heaven above to walk with him upon this earth. Truly, the bard admired no other person more than his beloved Aislinn.
The reddish monument that arose from the depth of the ocean started to come into view, what the man considered as his second home and place of rest, Redfang Island. Although the place looked uninviting and seemingly bathed in a bloody red light, it had been the company he kept there that drew him back so many times again and again. The shores not far from him, his velveteen ebony hand flew to his waste and unsheathed the weapon he now kept by his side, a spiral hilted, bejewed rapier of liquid silver that could pierce through even the sun's shining light with its luminescence.
The crimson aura that surrounded the island caused the gentleman to look menacing and devilish as he withdrew his blade, the deep blues and shining silvers of his clothing taking on a deeper hued purple and crimson, the drips of water falling from the tip of his blade looking like the substance that pumed through each living person's body, blood. The waves beneath roared and lifted the man higher into the air, the glacial trail the swordsman left behind him shattering into thousands of shining crystals. Power surged through the dark figure upon his artic throne, the salty sea air of the ocean rapidly clouding into a thin white fog. It had been a while since the noble exercised this type of power, the ebon fingers of his left hand clenching around the elaborate handle of his rapier. With a sudden jolt of his arm, the swordsman thrust his sword before him with one large step, the shine of his weapon seeming to bathe the island with a series of pinks, greens, and blue, the hues of the artic lights which showered the north.
A mist had started to rise from the blade, the length of this dazzling piece of martial weaponry become coated in a sheen of frost. The peaceful silence of the island had been ripped asunder by the duke's violent storm, silver streaks of light racing across the sky before a loud booming roar would follows in its wake. The very sight of his raging torrent of the man's dark ambitions had almost seemed as if it were to bring an end to the lone dusty red isle, a gale force wind briefly caressing the island's ground to cause the trees to try and flee from him. Suddenly turning his wrist, the noble pointed his sword towards the heavens above. lightning cracking across the sky once more as the roaring wave the aristocrat stood on reached its zenith! Both eyes had been closed now, the clammer of chaos surrounding him being repelled by willpower and focus alone. The discipline and control he possessed was phenomenal, the whole ocean and sky at his command.
The man had seemed to become as a god, the very elements at his beck and call, everything within the tight, firm grasp of his ebon velvet glove. Both eyes had flashed open now, the gold and lapid jewel set within his sockets glowing with an unnatural and humbling sense of his incredible powers. The strength in this man was not in the use of brandishing a sword and shield. No, that was the part of his beloved Aislinn to play as his knight in shining armor. What he possessed complimented her gifts better than anybody could have every thought possible. Raising his arms up high with the tip of the blade pointed towards the crest of his frozen throm, the duke of the twilight kingdom clenched his teeth tight before thrusting the sword down into the frozen foam of the wave with a deafening yell, the violent gale suddenly starting to twist and turn around him in response to his scream. The rapier pierced straight through the ice and flew back towards the earth.
The magician carved his way through the glacial uprising with a series of furious slashes and jabs, his unholy voice carrying across the island as a distinct and eerie howl through the ferocity of his storm. The winds had swirled and turn into a full force hurricane, the frosty shaving from Blue's sword flying up and getting pulled higher and higher into through the chaos and into the clouds. His descent through the arctic pillar would have only seemed to have been a single second, the bard moving with such speed and certainty that what he performed clearly was an act which little a mortal or sane man could ever hope to accomplish. His feet landed with a loud bang against the earth, a sudden shockwave carrying across the entire island as his being touched the once soft soil beneath him, the ground now a layer of tundra. He stood hunched, lowered with his sword horizontal to his body, his arm held out with the weapon in hand, his face hidden among the vastness of his golden sunshine. Only now would he wait...
The once clear and wonderfully blue sky had become clouded and dreary, the grey that blanketed the island only carrying through the sky ever so slightly. Silence. Nothing could be heard, not a tree rustled, nor a breeze blow. Absolute peace and quiet. The lord allowed his head to tilt back, allowing himself the privilege to look towards the rest of the island from under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat. The fierceness of his eyes gradually started to fade, his grip loosening, his breath becoming lighter and easier. It was over now, it was complete. The sound of metal sliding against metal could be heard as Blue slid his sword back to its respective place, the sheen of frost the sword had been coated with being stripped as the blade caressed the artistic sheathe around his belt. Then the man stood, his posture straightening with a slight popping of his joints as he rose, a small smile starting to creep up on his somber features.
"Perfect..." he said in but a whisper, turning his gaze skyward.
The lord scanned the cloudy blanket above, his mismatched pair looking far, far away into the distance, searching for something. Then, he saw the fruit of his labor start to appear, the smile on his facing growing ever wider as he watched. A single perfect ice crystal with is own artfully crafted crystalline frame wafted gently in the breeze, one of the snowflakes crafted the by tip of Blue's sword. Then another fell too. Then another and another until it grew into a small flurry, the landscape of the island becoming dusted with a pure and silent white.
"How wonderful this is," said the arctic wizard with a smug grin on his face.
His feet crunched through the light layer of snow, the entire island feeling the extent of his rule over the elements. "A storm for seven days and seven nights... My masterpiece."
The man followed the path into the wood of the isle, the forest filling him with quiet joy as the place turned into a winter wonderland.
"How I have missed this, my homeland. This is what should be mine..." he breathed as his silver talons carved their way into the bark of the trees that he would happen to pass, the beauty he had created and unleashed upon this place filling him with nostalgia. The vision of his own keep came into his mind, a castle set within the deep frozen north, the bustling village that hung beneath its shadow. How much he missed it, although he could never go back now. Too many things kept him here and he had come to accept that.
"The council, the people, my people... What is left of them now? What has become of my kingdom?" he asked turning around one tree, almost as if he expected to find somebody on the other side to answer his question. But as he had imagined, nobody was there to give him a reply or a solution, his slender frame falling against one of the proud trees that guarded the interior of the island. "Blast! How could it all have slipped away from me? How could I have been so blinded by avarice and pride that I could not see what I had been loosing?" cried the lord into the winter landscape.
The man's knees felt weak and weary now, both of them feeling as if they could no longer support his body any longer. Blue collapsed into the fresh powder, his arms falling lifeless along with the rest of his body. It was depression, the sorrow and the sadness he felt for what had occured in his far past. It pained him physically, mentally, and emotionally, the stinging numbness of this hard memory making him feel cold and insignificant. A single crystalline tear cascaded down his pale cheek as he gazed through the forest towards the dojo grounds, both of his hand cupping and curling into the pile of snow he had pushed up as he fell.
"That place..." he murmured quietly, the corners of his mouth contorted into a sharp frown. "How I wish it were mine..." spouted the once proud lord, crawling his way towards the monument within the island's center. It was not his keep, nor did it even resemble his castle in the slightest, but it was a place of authority and nobility, both of which he wanted more so than anything.
The most of his overcoat had been covered in the fresh dusting of pure white snow, the man still pulling himself through the wood with only the strength of his arms and desire. A gaze, an unblinking gaze, that one blue eye fixed towards the building so close and yet so far from him. The golden amber eye had refused to partake in the same vision, shutting itself closed as the nobleman trudged onward. Two forces clashed inside of him, an argument starting to rage between two familiar men. Both of them the voice of peace, but which one was right? The confusion, the chaos, the madness that brewed between the two... The bard's movement became slow and rigid, finding it harder to drag himself further and further. Something was stopping him from doing it... Not the cold nor the weather, but something else prevented him from pressing on. Now he didn't move, the man face down in the snow at the edge of the clearing, his features hidden beneath the brim of his lavishly tailored hat...
(Well, that's it... There's much more I could put on here, but all in due time. I thank all those wonderful people who helped me develope this story. Truly, it was a pleaure to have it all come to me. Anway, I hope you do continue to read on for furture postings. For know, the dreary moaning of reality demands that I partake of the mundane celebration and ritual of daily life... Exciting? Hardly. Cheerio, all.)
