[JOB THREAD] The Embrace Of Darkness

by **Huskabar** on February 20th, 2014, 10:47 pm

Season: Winter/Day: 70th/Year: 513/Time: Midnight

Two feet made rhythmic music through the cold empty alleyway, as the old man stumbled and fell in the alleyway. He rolled his body wildly, attempting to get back to his feet, his hands clinging to either ear, trying to keep the incessant noise from filling them. He sprawled out on his stomach, before crawling forward with his forearms, wanting nothing more than this pain to stop. He gripped at the building walls, his heart racing a mile a minute, like the hooves of many great horses upon a battlefield. He began to bash his head against the building, trying to make the pain end, “Knock, knock, knock” went his head to the solid surface, “knock, knock, knock!” came the sound, as the sleeping Huskabar awoke from his less than pleasant dream. He gradually got up, rubbing the back of his head, taking note of a terrible ache in his mind.

The gnarled naked body of the elderly man stood in all it’s splendor, as he departed from his bedding, before reaching for his garments. Once he was dressed, he made his way to the door, opening it to see two tall men, around his eye level, at about six foot now stood before him. They wore elaborate cloakes, decorated in a variety of patterns, ranging in all different colors. The man on the right had a light blond beard, hanging only an inch down from his chin, where as the man on the left had thick black stubble, and a scar that curved all along the outer side of his right eye.“Please come with us, Sir,” both of the men said, almost mechanically in complete unison.

The old wizards oh so great reservoir of patience was now immediately spent, drained rapidly by the complete nerve of the two men knocking at his door with demands at this time of night. He continued to rub at his aching head, as his brows arched, and his voice deepened. “Have you two completely lost your wits? I am not going anywhere with anyone. You createns had better make your presence here scarce and soon, or what little of your lives you have left are going to be filled with regret and fear,” said the grumpy warlock, before attempting to slam his door, but without much effort the two men pushed their way inside, and before Huskabar could do anything he was struck with a swift blow to the head, knocking him out cold.

He was once again invited into the blackness, and as the men carried him out, the elderly man journeyed back into the center of his mind. His mind wandered back into that dark helpless alleyway, the noise now more unrelenting than ever, and in every direction he looked the city was crumbling to the ground. What was this awful noise that would not stop? He was about ready to do anything for the answer to that question, and then as he turned around he saw it. Where a wall had once been, were thousands of dying bodies, gripping at their wounds, as they gradually bled out, feeling their sweet life nectar escape them drop by drop. He then looked upon the face of a poor suffering boy, and leaned forward, looking into his eyes. “Boy… Boy… Who caused such havoc? Who caused such terror?”

The boy turned his head, to cough out a small puddle of blood, before wiping away the scarlet droplets, and then looking back to the man. “It was you, Lord Huskabar,” he said, as tears ran down his small plum like cheeks, the eyes tense and cold as if he were looking at the devil himself. “Why did you bring about such misery?” he said, mustering his last bit of strength to point the index finger of his right hand to the old wizard. “Are we nothing but insects to you? You are a monster, and you’ll never be anything more than a monster!” Huskabar could not understand. Sure, he was certainly far from being a saint, but he had never done anything to warrant this kind of reputation.

by **Huskabar** on February 21st, 2014, 2:42 am

It was then that Huskabar’s eyes wearily opened up, at the feel of a prodding against his shoulder, and as he looked over his surroundings, it appeared that he was just outside the city border, surrounded five men, shrouded in thick of darkness, their faint silhouettes all gazing in his direction. This did not look very promising for the elderly wizard, and he was all too aware of that fact. “Greetings, Huskabar Skorn,” spoke one of the voices in a surprisingly friendly tone. The old man did not say a single word in response, but rather just glared intently at his shadowy captors. “I apologies for any injury, but please understand it was imperative that we have this little… discussion,” the man spoke, before pausing a moment, to turn his back, looking up to the stars. “We have a job for you in fact. A very special one actually, but let me be very clear when I tell you, the less questions you ask, the better it is for everyone. Now, moving right along with the details!” he said, as one of the men handed the speaker an item, hidden in a soft velvet back. It looked as if it might have been hiding a weapon or tool of some kind. “We need you to open your void, so that we can through this inside. That is all, and don’t worry, you will be compensated for your efforts.”

The old wizard no longer held an expression of anger or fear, but rather one of confusion. This did not make any sense to him whatsoever. “I do not understand. I am practiced in my arcana, yes, but I am far from the greatest voider in Mizahar. Why would you come to me? I wouldn’t even be able to retrieve your item at a later time. I just don’t know why you have chose me of all people?” Silence fell over the area, as the man continued to observe the stars, not speaking a word in reply. There was something about all of this that the wizard did not like, and it wasn’t just the feel of the cold winter breeze, that sent a chill through his old body. He looked down at his wrists and body, to take note of the fact he was not confined in anyway. If it were not so cold, and if time were not such harsh to the human body, the old wizard very well may have attempted to run in that moment. Unfortunately for him reality was reality, and there was no escaping from that truth.

The man lets out a low gradual sigh, as he gave a subtle shake of his head, before speaking, “Now what did I say about asking questions? I swear that it is almost as if you magic types have too much curiosity inside your heads to fit any good sense…” He thought a moment, before finally turning back to face the old man, “We know of how much you are capable of, Huskabar Skorn, and that is exactly why we chose you. We would rather not pick a wizard who could use this item as an anchor, and retrieve it at a later time. Trust me when I tell you that would be bad for everyone. We also needed someone with a very short list of family and friends, incase they decided to refuse. Do you understand the importance of the situation, Huskabar Skorn?” The wizard gave a nod in reply to the man, as a gulp swelled in the back of his throat. “Very well. Then I suggest we move on to the business portion of our little meeting here.”

The old warlock was nervous about this, and decided to be very careful of just how large he made this void. The last thing he wanted was to be pushed into his own portal, and so he opened up a small rip, just big enough to fit in the object, holding it in position, as the speaker tossed the item inside of the pure blackness. Huskabar the allowed the portal to close, before turning around, placing out his right hand for payment, with a raise of his right brow. “Very well,” said the man, before reaching into his pocket withdrawing a small pouch of coins. The speaker then walked over to a steed in the distance, before saying one last thing. “Consider the gold a parting gift, Huskabar Skorn… Clean up the loose end, men. I’ll meet you at the designated location. The four men withdrew their swords, looking toward the wizard, before the fifth man road his horse into the distance. This was exactly the situation that the wizard feared would unfold… He knew he was too old to escape, and though his arcana was improving every day, he was rather certain he would not be able to cast a few spells and slip out of this one. It had appeared that his end was at hand...

by **Huskabar** on February 22nd, 2014, 2:59 pm

It appeared to the warlock that his time had finally ran out, but he would not leave this world without a fight, but just as he was about to take action two of the men leapt forward at the other pair, lashing furiously. “What? What is this!” one of the surprised men scream, before locking swords with his attacker. It seemed that whatever the situation was, Huskabar was right in the middle of all the fun. The thought of using this chance to escape was a prominent one, but a devilish grin came across his lips. Why would he give up such a chance to punish his attempted assailants? It was time that he helped end this little stalemate. He hunkered down, before projecting a small void hole beneath the heel of one of the men being attacked, causing the man to lose his balance, and after a momentary stumble, his attacker had just the opening he needed to place a well-crafted blade straight through his heart. The man then gave an acknowledging nod, and a friendly smirk to the wizard, before turning to aid the other fighter, and with two against one… Well that battle did not seem to last very long at all.

“You are useful, wizard!” said one of the two men, before reaching down, to help him up, though Huskabar politely refused the offer. He was still uncertain as to whether he could trust these two or not, and was still completely oblivious to the situation, so the last thing he wanted was to be helped up, into a sword to the belly, or perhaps his overactive imagination and paranoia were getting the better of him. In either case, he thought it would be best to avoid taking such a risk. The man then looked to his partner, with a serious gaze in his eyes, before asking him, “Well do you have it?” The man reached down into his pack, which was laying on the ground, hidden in the darkness. He retrieved an object, also hidden in a fine velvet bag, identical to the one he had voided. “Perfect…” The man said, as he looked over the bag, before grabbing the bag, and placing it on his side, “Oh and one more thing,” said the man, before spiraling around, placing the metal of his blade against the neck of the other man, and separating the head from it’s body.

Instinctually the old man began to ran, only to hear the roar of a deep laugh behind him, before the man began to pursue the old codger, his blade ready for another victim. Suddenly Huskabar began to remember the stray dog from the weak prior, and gradually both his hind feet and front legs morphed into that of the animal, his shoes falling from his body, but leaving the rest of his body in its otherwise original form. He darted through the darkness, with his newly adjust appendages, picking up speed well beyond his standard capacity. The screams seemed to grow fainter, as he finally made it into the city, returning back to his normal, but quite shoeless form. He hunkered down into the shadows, expecting to see his pursuer at any moment.

The man panted beneath the nights sky, quite disappointed that the old man got away from him. That most definitely complicated things, but he knew that he could not stay here even a moment longer. He had to make it to his destination at the appointed time with this object, or it could mean very bad things for him. Perhaps nothing would come of a single witness, and who is really going to believe an odd old man anyway? No one, that’s who... or at least that was his hope. He grumbled, before turning his back, making his way into the darkness. His steed was tied just over the horizon, and he knew that he had a very long journey ahead. He could not help but grumble and think to himself, “This… this is why so many people hate wizards”

by **Huskabar** on February 24th, 2014, 1:54 am

The old wizard, laid against the door of his home, pressing all of his weight back against it, painting wildly, as he mind raced. He wasn’t sure what it was that was so important about the item, nor did he know why the man killed his partner, but he did know that they somehow tracked him down to his house once, so there was no reason to think it could not happen again. He reached up a tired arm, wiping away the cold sweat from his forehead, as his heart beat began to settle back to a calm pace. It had now been a lengthy portion of time, and he was beginning to think that his pursuer had lost interest, though he couldn’t imagine why. “You know that was probably a magical artifact in that pouch,” came the voice of the spirit he had seen once before. The man with long black hair, and sharp angular facial features was now right in front of Huskabar. “It could have been a work of glyphing, malediction, or even magecraft!” said the phantom wizard, with destain in his tone.

“Oh, leave me be…. It was most likely a key to the gateway of my death, and for all I know you are just a figment of my imagination, prodding at the forbidden temptations that are better left forgotten,” he said, before laying down to rest, rolling over to look at the cracked wall, as his eyes gradually narrowed, now ignoring the specter completely. He was rather sure that it was the illness of his mind acting up once more, and he was done with entertaining his own delusions. The spirit grumbled to himself, as he slowly dissipated into the night, muttering out insults such as stubborn old fool, before vanishing completely. Gradually the decreaped warlock felt himself lulled back into the world of dreams.

The very next moment the old man was face down against the cobblestone of the alleyway once more, and once more an incredibly loud noise rang in his ears, but it had changed somehow. It was no longer a sound of suffering or pain, but rather it seemed to be the sound of cheering, and as he came around the corner of the alley, he saw what looked to be an army of devoted followers chanting his name, and as he moved closer, they all began to bow. There was a feeling of pride that washed over the wizard, but he could not understand. He did not know what had changed. He looked to the nearest soldier, and he asked, “I saw so much suffering… Where did they all go? What has changed?”

The young man smiled to the old man, “Those were the nonbelievers, Lord Huskabar. They refused to accept that you are a god, but their false petty words are in the wind now, and their bodies are in the ground.” The young man then turned to the crowd behind him, before screaming out the words, “All hail Lord Huskabar!” and a chanting followed. He was absolutely astonished, and though he knew in the back of his head that this was all a dream, there was a part of him that truly believed this could be what his future had in store for him. He asked the young man how this had come to be, and the boy answered, “Well… It has been said, Sir… That it all started with an object in a velvet pouch…” Suddenly the old man jetted out from his sleep, sitting straight up with his eyes wide open… No matter what it took, or how long it was down the path, he knew right there and then…. He had to make it his life’s mission to get that object.

by **Zandelia** on March 18th, 2014, 12:56 am

Huskabar :

Notes :

Any questions about my grade? Feel free to PM me at any time. Keep writing!

Completed [JOB THREAD] The Embrace Of Darkness