[caption id="attachment_678" align="alignleft" width="72"] Gonzalo Mendiverry (self-drawn)[/caption] Cuando era aun muy joven y me encontraba vagando por el bosque de Loreloot sin nada que hacer me encontre con un ser mu…
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La Historia de Mis Comienzos [ES]
Story Night #2
15 More Stories from the Oak
15 True Stories from the Oak
The Oil Stain and the Painting
The Oil Stain and the Painting
| *steps in from the balcony and examines the room*
*tries to conceal her nervousness and sits down on the carpet… oooh, fluffy!*
*gets her evil smirk going on* *clears her throat* My story begins long ago. I should not be proud of this story, nor of the reason I went there. But I am, and it changed my life. I walked from dark to light and on the way I learned what for me may be the most important and desired knowledge and with it came a price, the curse of knowledge.Know it and you sign your death sentence. Every time I use them, they take a shard of the life I have, every time I craft a spell, every time I cast them, every time I make a potion I put a bit of me in them so that they can be complete. Every time you use them, they take scraps from your soul, depending of their purpose or how they affect you, sometime in ways you never think of. When I cast spells, I get noticed, I am found, I leave my trace in what I do, and it can’t be changed. |
| *lowers her eyes to the ground* And this is what I never understood from that letter… He tried to warn me but I was blinded and left deaf and numb by the will of my writings. *raises her eyes back to the crowd* However, this is not the story I will tell you now. *lets a smirk swiftly flash across her face* It was in one olden day. As I entered the Pub and began to mix the ingredients for my special coffee I came to see something I that in my memory had not been there before. Almost shying away in one of the corners of the Wizard’s painting there was a spot… well, I thought it was a spot. I came to realize it was not after several attempts of gently cleaning the painting with a tea towel. Only after the passing of more time did it don upon me that it could be a clue left by him for me. *scans the room with her gaze*Uhm, did I forget to tell you about the Bounce? |
| *takes a deep breath and enjoy the breeze coming from the balcony, listening to it as if it were a whisper* Since that is another story and I am too busy telling this one, I’ll just start in the middle… I still dream of him and sometimes in my dreams I still find the clues he leaves for me there. He had faith in me, a strong one, and since I made the same mistake (I guess we could call it that if we had to call it something). *smiles* The clues… the prints… the whispers that are there but aren’t… Even in his last breath he still wanted me to know so many things that he did and it’s through these dream clues that he’s trying to honor his promises. I guess I still have lots of cramming to do before graduation. |
| *winks* Now… I do believe I was telling you all a different story, a more recent one… I had tried using some magic to find what the ‘spot’ really was. The trick, I found out, was to use fresh river water (the river never stops its course and its threads of water are thinner threads of tales and stories), a stone (its harsh surface slows down the water) and earth (its never ending, never starting life remembers all it ‘sees’) along with gray paper, the really rare one (so I could freeze his trace). And after I went through all this trouble getting the spot on paper into something I could understand, reading it proved to be the REALLY hard part. I, as per usual, instantly got so caught up in my regular “look-at-me-I-can-do-awesome-stuff-too” mood and began to burn energy without realizing it. Imagine my surprise when I realized that my trance had taken me from reading spots on gray paper and hurled me into the past. |
| The smell of blood and war and death, the sounds of clanging metal and horrific warcries, the sights of battlegrounds and an endless number of souls on each side of the front, these all overwhelmed me but in the same time seemed to me like a speck of dust on a drachorn’s hide in comparison to the pressure I felt gripping my spine, my marrow, my whole as the ancient energy of thousands upon thousands of spells, crafted and cast on the gory field of war pushed my sanity over the edge. After coming to my senses, I could perceive that this was not a vision, or a glimpse from somebody else’s min. I WAS in the past once more as my body was covered with the wounds and scars of that Era. I could re-live memories that I left behind, as the taste of dark, corrupted Principles flooded my being. However, my current state of mind remained and saved me this time around: nothing is dark, nothing is light, this world is made out of shades of twilight. *sighs and stares into the distance* *…* |
| *looks back at the audience with a half embarrassed smile*
But I digress…
My arrival onto an ancient battlefield and in a time of not so peaceful events was clearly his fault, that much I could tell from the very start. They were there too, defending it with valor.
Of course the ones that wished me dead and gone because of my righteous betrayal were there as well. I really can’t blame them for their wretched hatred for me. And I guess they won’t blame me either when I’ll gather the power that will allow me to exile them to a pocket plane the size of an eyeball… a very small eyeball… Ahem!
The darkness came at me, blinded by hatred and as they prepared to lay their blows… and then they became blinded by his protective light. *smiles and stares off into the distance, and the flames of power smother her eyes* |
| It’s still fresh in my mind, you know… the memory that became forgotten and then this new memory that to me feels happened a heartbeat ago. I close my eyes and see him, the image of an ancient sage, cloaked by a moth-eaten mantle running past me, me immediately following him without thinking. I could see him trying to hide a large scroll in one of the pockets of his robes. He quickly conjured a portal for himself but as he stepped through it, a paper fell from his bag… *looks up and can’t help to smile* I, had nothing to do with that *show a grin across her whole face* Well, maybe a little… As I took the scroll and gazed upon it, I recognized the letters but could not read it. Old runes were never to my liking and each time I still come across them, a childish frustration and spite takes hold of me. Raising my eyes from the runed scroll, I realized I was surrounded by an overwhelming mass of darkness and I could feel their desire to seize both me and the scroll in my hands as a powerful electric vibration through the air around me. The static amplified, gathering their doomed emotions as fuel, splitting the air into thousands of shards that in the presence of this corruption seemed to fade away as sunrays eaten by a starving eclipse. Instantly, hundreds of arcs of flashing lightning came at me and I could feel their boiling hatred for me roaring as celestial thunder in my bones. *closes her eyes and mutters with a trembling whisper* Where are you now, when I’m about to die? Are you still going to come and save me now when nobody else can? *opens her eyes slowly and speaks with her regular voice* That’s the last thought that sparked in my mind as I could see in that last heartbeat, the one that felt like infinity, my damnation and sealed death wearing the mask of a thousand lightning bolts… . . . |
| And that’s when I wound up on the couch, surrounded not by electric death but by friendly and concerned faces. And still, it had not been a vision, as gripped tight in my right hand there was a tiny fragment of that ancient large scroll. You might or might not know the events that followed after my sudden but yet so needed comeback to the present… For all those around me, it seems I was never gone in the first place. I’ve kept the fragment, along with my memories, as both a memento mori and a life reminder that sometimes, in the distant future you can still see the ripples of a stone threw so long in the past. *smiles* Getting hurled through time and nearly getting killed there… then… takes it out of you. I’m going to need more… ahem! Time… until I heal and my powers return. I will use my memories along with the fragment that I now have to retrace and reconstruct the entire scroll and then… *looks far into the distance with a determined and courageous face* And then… I hope I’ll have a better story for all of you… |
|
*stares at the crowd surrounding her and sees a few bored and confused looks*
There’s still a long way for me to go before I’ll be able to honor a story by telling it. For now, I just hope I didn’t bore you all too much with my ramblings and of course I thank you all for attending this event and being here with me, in this time. Although hazy and somewhat unspecific, some of you might find themselves in need of bits and pieces of what I tried to speak of. My friend gave me some of the ingredients needed. If you need to know, this you can ask.
It was truly unfortunate that the only way he found possible to keep on living was by firstly dying, especially since he never knew what waited for him beyond the veil of death… none of us do. Sometimes, in those brief instances when he feels half dead and half alive he remembers his wife, his son, his daughter and grieves for them as he never got to tell them goodbye and they never knew what became of him, leaving his family with the awful hope of having their father coming back to them one day…
Phoenyckz insisted he helped out with my tale telling before today so I kinda owe him thanks for correcting. |
Kindred chronicles
What follows are the stories told by Sunfire, Pashweetie, Tipu, Stonebiter, Kamisha, Adiomino, Altrumist, Curiose, and an unknown author. They were told at the Well of Fortune, the disignated place for story-telling. Pri…
Read on ›The following pages contain 15 short stories hand picked by Handy Pockets. They range from fictional to factual and some are borderline discussional, but all of the them are based on real or almost real events and people…
Read on ›As often as Kets and Awiiya can manage, the Oak sprout, which is located just beyond the gates to the MagicDuel Archives, receives a story. The stories range from fantasy to reality, and cover a broad variety of emotions…
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