Pieces of Her

A forum for followers of Dread. - This temple is currently closed to new members, titles, and items.
venis
Posts: 297
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm
Guild: Warlocks
Temple: Dread
Contact:

Pieces of Her

Post by venis »

The lost island coves of old Morinthian land were empty and desolate, awash with a grim fog that settled over the ruins of what once was a great and thriving enterprise. An ambience of gloom befit for his mood.

My eternal half… you deal me a blow most egregious.


Venis pined, his heart bled. There was something surreal about it all.

He pinched his temples with either grasp of a thumb and index whilst recollecting the recent instances of interrogation that had persisted unremittingly.

“What happened?” “Would you care to discuss your thoughts?” “Are you upset?” “What happens next with…” “What’s your opinion of… ?” “Care to comment on… ?” “Why did this happen?” “Where did she go?” “You must know something…” “Hey, Venis, I heard…” “Congratulations on Guildmaster… !” “Hey Venis, I’m sure you’re aware…”

Clearly none of you get it. Just shut up and hold your tongues, all of you...


His normal calm and calculated disposition was challenged by the well of confusion, longing, and unhappiness as had become him in the passing days—a pit which filled expeditiously and from which he could not help but drink. Something inside him was sponging up any compassion that was ever there, yet none of the melancholy.

“If I am without joy then none shall have it. My misery will storm upon the world, I shall rain despair and sow destruction where I go!” spat Venis to the darkness around him, the fog long since dense.

What Venis did not expect was the darkness to reply, and soon he found himself startled by some sudden movement beyond sight—something he felt instead, something massive.

“You, Cardinal, who are so bold to proclaim yourself our Prince of Avarice,” came the call of an ancient voice from beyond the impenetrable black, “Stop your sniveling nonsense at once.”

Let this one be the target of my first bolt.

Furious, Venis reached at once for his trident and began to lunge toward the direction of the voice. Yet, as he went to advance upon the unseen presence in blind waspishness, he was met with a powerful gust from a great buffet of skeletal wings, sending his weapon reeling far from hand.

What’s this?

The permeable darkness melted away from the enormous frame of the Dracolich in an instant, as though it were at his beckon call. He was a mix of horror and beauty to behold sculpted in the form of a dragon and born of sheer power. Onyx and emerald ethers danced violently in the wake of each great step. Clever, formidable, and haunting was he. He inquired, with intelligence in his delivery, “Are you reduced to wanton slaughter? I find myself unenriched by this emptiness within you.”

Venis proclaimed defiantly, “You cannot possibly know my pain, my sense of loss!”

The ground rumbled below the Dracolich, his fury rattling his monstrous bones. He thrust his massive skull toward Venis, his hollow eyes filled with the black glow of anguish. When they finally fastened gazes, Venis knew, for what loss he had felt her treasure reciprocated. A chill possessed him, running the length of his spine. "She sent me to tell you to join her, forever."

Where have you been?

This was her dragon—the physical embodiment of her power. She had been so keenly connected to this creature. He would never share the Dracolich bond with this one, nor would he ever be called master or similar. And still, perhaps they could help one another, at least until her return.

Well, let’s at least try to get along,
Kyuss. I could use some company right now.

Return to “Temple of Dread”