Pantera
15-07-2005, 00:39
On and on the screaming went, and the Lord Reaver sat, his head in his hands. His massive frame seemed crumpled and frail. Eyes of blazing purple seemed dim tonight, lacking their usual lustre. His mood was black as he sat, listening to the awful song of screams. Outside, a storm gathered, darkenening the daylight adding a rumbling undertone to the wails.
It had gone on all day, the struggle. Ranting and cursing always, scattered with the sounds of objects crashing into walls, and into people. A truly brutal battle it had been, even for Dayne, who was forbidden from the field. He had longed to take up his sword and charge forward, cutting and killing whatever enemies might arise... But, he could not. There were no enemies causing the terrible pain. This agony was of a different sort, and there was noone to blame but himself.
As the storm finally broke and the lightning lit the throne room, the screaming died off. The final sound was an awful, wailing scream that rose to a shriek before trailing away into a moan. He knew then, that it was over. She was dead.
Dayne rose from the great stone chair, shocked. She was dead. He knew it. He had listened to the screaming all day, fearful, and now she was gone. His Queen, gone forever, and it was his fault. He felt numb, drunk and stupid. Stumbling, he made his way through the doors and out, into the plaza that topped the great flight of stairs that fronted the Seastone Palace.
The storm was building as he walked out into the open, feeling blank. Before him were a pair of young Rigante, lean and wild. Stripped to the waist they were, sparring with a pair of old iron swords. Their presence irritated him, and Dayne opened his mouth to snap an angry dismissal, but the words never came, for from the sky lanced a great, white-hot bolt.
Down through the towers, keeps and walls of the great palace it came, slicing through and taking the two Rigante together. The resounding crash and blaze of pain in his eyes shocked the Evenstar, sending him to his knees. He panicked then, afraid of being blind. His grief and shock at his previous loss was gone in an instant, and he clawed at his eyes, panicking and almost screaming.
But soon he regained his composure and opened his eyes. Though a fiery slash marked his vision, he was not blind. Eventually even that was blinked away and he peered at the grisly scene before him.
The Rigante were gone, only a few small pieces of scorched flesh, bone, and smoking clothing to remind him that they had existed. Even one of their swords had been eviscerated, gone in the furious heat of the strike, though one remained. It had fallen at a downward angle and lodged in the ancient cobblestones of the plaza to stand upright.
He stared at the sword stupidly for a few more moments, the storm crashing around him. Eventually he turned and made his way back into the Palace. The hearths of the Great Hall had been lit when he returned, and before them sat the old woman.
Her tone was amused as she rasped,"I figured even you would not wander off at a time like this... But I know the business you were on, mmm? The name. You know it. Speak it now."
He stared at the tiny bundle in the Crone's arms, a pair of lilac-colored eyes peering out from it, and he was startled anew. He did know the boy's name, and he spoke it,"He is Valanus Vayne, the name of my father. He is my son, and the Sword in the Storm."
The wretched old woman rather spoiled the moment by thrusting the bundle at him and rasping,"Well? Take him then, foolish man. I have the Queen to attend to now, with no more time for dawdling with you."
It had gone on all day, the struggle. Ranting and cursing always, scattered with the sounds of objects crashing into walls, and into people. A truly brutal battle it had been, even for Dayne, who was forbidden from the field. He had longed to take up his sword and charge forward, cutting and killing whatever enemies might arise... But, he could not. There were no enemies causing the terrible pain. This agony was of a different sort, and there was noone to blame but himself.
As the storm finally broke and the lightning lit the throne room, the screaming died off. The final sound was an awful, wailing scream that rose to a shriek before trailing away into a moan. He knew then, that it was over. She was dead.
Dayne rose from the great stone chair, shocked. She was dead. He knew it. He had listened to the screaming all day, fearful, and now she was gone. His Queen, gone forever, and it was his fault. He felt numb, drunk and stupid. Stumbling, he made his way through the doors and out, into the plaza that topped the great flight of stairs that fronted the Seastone Palace.
The storm was building as he walked out into the open, feeling blank. Before him were a pair of young Rigante, lean and wild. Stripped to the waist they were, sparring with a pair of old iron swords. Their presence irritated him, and Dayne opened his mouth to snap an angry dismissal, but the words never came, for from the sky lanced a great, white-hot bolt.
Down through the towers, keeps and walls of the great palace it came, slicing through and taking the two Rigante together. The resounding crash and blaze of pain in his eyes shocked the Evenstar, sending him to his knees. He panicked then, afraid of being blind. His grief and shock at his previous loss was gone in an instant, and he clawed at his eyes, panicking and almost screaming.
But soon he regained his composure and opened his eyes. Though a fiery slash marked his vision, he was not blind. Eventually even that was blinked away and he peered at the grisly scene before him.
The Rigante were gone, only a few small pieces of scorched flesh, bone, and smoking clothing to remind him that they had existed. Even one of their swords had been eviscerated, gone in the furious heat of the strike, though one remained. It had fallen at a downward angle and lodged in the ancient cobblestones of the plaza to stand upright.
He stared at the sword stupidly for a few more moments, the storm crashing around him. Eventually he turned and made his way back into the Palace. The hearths of the Great Hall had been lit when he returned, and before them sat the old woman.
Her tone was amused as she rasped,"I figured even you would not wander off at a time like this... But I know the business you were on, mmm? The name. You know it. Speak it now."
He stared at the tiny bundle in the Crone's arms, a pair of lilac-colored eyes peering out from it, and he was startled anew. He did know the boy's name, and he spoke it,"He is Valanus Vayne, the name of my father. He is my son, and the Sword in the Storm."
The wretched old woman rather spoiled the moment by thrusting the bundle at him and rasping,"Well? Take him then, foolish man. I have the Queen to attend to now, with no more time for dawdling with you."