The sun began to set on a dreary Roarkian day as Ithylar trudged wearily along a muddy crag trail. The rain had stopped momentarily, but the elfen could tell that another westerly would bring in more bands of precipitation. Rainclouds moved across the sky, blocking out the silver rays of the early moon. It was almost completely dark for a moment as the sun finished his journey westward. The young Squire paused for a minute and began rifling through a ratty old canvas backpack. He bit slightly down on his tongue, and stared implacably upward as he searched for a rusty tinderbox. Holding this in his hand he continued searching through the satchel until he could feel a material that was slightly damp, but fairly warm and course to the touch. Removing both items from the backpack he places the tinderbox in between his teeth to hold for a second. After slipping into the weathered backpack he begins to patiently unravel the wool from around a cyclindrical object. A muffled chuckle escapes his lips from behind the rusty tinderbox. The trick had never failed him; that is wrapping a choice piece of wood with a woolen cloth when the weather is questionable. It was something he observed some years earlier as an itinerant scribe. Wool, unlike most other fabrics, retained the ability to insulate even while wet, and amazingly held the moisture from reaching what lay underneath. With a quick thrust he jabbed the torch handle-first into the mud and struck a spark from the tinderbox--setting the tar-soaked cloth wrapped around the top aflame. For the next few moments he took the liberty of relieving himself on an evergreen bush while the flame took to the torch, ensuring that it would not go out quickly. Up ahead Ithylar spotted an opening in the cliff face large enough for several men to go in at once. From here it reminded him of a gluttonous mugwump gorging on a few choice foods. Merely thinking of food made his stomach rumble; so grabbing the stick from the mud he made haste to the cave just as a terrential downpour swept in from the east. Once inside he pulled back hood of his traveling cloak and pulled a strap of his backpack off his shoulder. He allowed it to fall down his left arm only to catch it by the strap a second before it would have hit the cavern floor. With the help of his torch he gathered a few stones, but much to his surprise there was already kindling in a pile. Raising his brow in curiousity the aspiring Paladin carefully examined the area about him. He had not noticed any tracks on his way in, nor any other sign of anyone having been in the cave. Shrugging he places the stone around the pile of wood and sets it ablaze. Leaning back on his satchel as he undoes the clasp that holds the cloak about his neck. Casting this aside, he begins undressing himself of the plain leather armour common among such low ranking warriors. At no point did it occur to him that this might be a fatal mistake, but his attire was made of cambric cotton and would have smelled like dead elk for days if he had let the leather dry while wearing it. "Besides," Ithylar thought, "I can defend myself if need be." This confidence was a common rookie mistake. Resting his head on the backpack he places a serpentine-pommeled broadsword on his torso; placing over this a kite-shaped wooden iron-rimmed shield. To disguise his readiness--as well as for comfort--he lays over himself the woolen cloak as if it were a blanket. Perhaps it was because of the heavy rainfall cascading down the mountain face and splashing in puddles of mud nearby or the warmth of the small fire in such close-quarters or even sheer exhaustion of journeying, whichever the case the youthful elfen Squire quickly slipped away into a dreamstate.

He dreamt a dream of death and dismay. In this dream everywhere he walked death followed. Sparrows and hawks alike fell from the sky and dried up into skeletons before him. To the side of the road the grass turned yellow and the ground dried up into a vast desolate desert. Rocks and stones of the fields crumbled and turned to dust. Trees and shrubbery wilted, turning from bright green to dark green to yellow then orange and finally brown. It was perhaps the worse when he stopped at a rose bush thriving with beautiful white flowers. Awestruck he was horrified as the roses turned a vibrant crimson, but then began bleeding themselves of their color as a pig does who has been slaughtered and hung out to drain. When there was no more color the roses turned black withering away into dry little shriveled buds. Ithylar reached out to touch the bush but pulled away quickly as it blew away like ashes in the wind. Suddenly a pain throbbed throughout his body as all faded to black. When he came to in this dream he saw himself standing atop a pile of hacked and hewed bodies, mangled and slain by his hands. Off in the distance there walked a solitary figure half-miraged by the heat waves of a blazing amber sun. As the man came closer the Squire could feel his stomach tighten as it contorted into knots. Closer and closer still the shady figure drew, but still the elfen stood his ground. His palms sweated beneath heavy gloves and his arms felt as if they weighed more than ten Krokani. A sharp noise rang out as if the world stood still and empty; followed by a bright glint of a silvery blade. Everything blurred and suddenly the man who seemed a mile away was right in front of him. Pain filled his very being and became him as a shield slammed into his face, knocking him off balance and jarring his reflexes. He tried to lift his sword but it was like a flea lifting a boulder. It was too late, by then the tip of a sword pierced his neck just above the clavicle. The touch of cold steel lingered inside him as the warmth of his own blood soaked his clothes. Vertigo set in as his vision faded and he fell face-forward. His last memory would be that of dead men as their stench filled his nostrils.

Bolting upward Ithylar deftly found his feet with sword in hand and shield on arm. Gradually his eyes stopped darting about, his breathing returned to a slower and deeper pace, and his heart decelerated from a hundred beyond beats per minute. The adrenaline faded, but the elfen noticed something that he had not before. Deep into the darkness as the back of the cave there was a slight stratching noise. The rain had drowned it out before, but it was clearly audible now. The fact that he had removed his armor had slipped his mind as he carefully approached the darkness of the cave. At the edge of the light he could hear the noise with ease: it sounded similar to a dog pawing at a door he had been locked behind when his master had guests. As he placed a foot daringly into that which he could not see he slipped on the edge of a drop-off. Luckily it had a slightly rugged incline and he could make blind strides as he rushed uncontrollably downward. Some twenty-odd bounds later the ground leveled off but it was slightly flooded down here. Ithylar decided to stay where he was at the edge of the water because, namely, he could not see nor did he know how deep it was or for how long this water went on for, and also because luck might be that someone heading out towards the Tosha Monastery might stop by the cave having seen the light of the campfire. He could not be sure that this would be a good or a bad thing. Whatever the case was, the options were limited: either he could stay here waiting patiently or he could foolishly go wandering into a darkess where death was almost a certainty. Meanwhile, the scratching sound continued back in some unforeseen territory of the abysmal chasm.


This is in fact an interactive thread. I know not many of you guys are in favor of role-playing here, but I rather enjoy it. Since there is actually a bit of controversy concerning this issue, I will be DMing by some fairly strict guidelines. Only because I prefer to keep things of a very professional and entertaining manner. I will also be writing all my out-of-character remarks in blue. I do advise you to do so as well, as it will help us all. It doesn't have to be any specific color, just make it a different color. Actually, I would prefer if you did not make any comments whatsoever that are OOC. If you have any specifc questions for a person, or any remarks send it to them via PM, I will do so as well from this point forward. Lastly, this is almost completely open-ended in that I will allow anyone come in at any point in the story. However, if after I move the story along you decide you want to join in send me a PM and I will tell you exactly at which point you can come into the plot without interfering with what is currently going on, as well as, the point at which you can come in without me ignoring you. There will be very few exceptions to these guidelines. Other than that, please give it your all and enjoy! If no one replies in a manner that is suitable, I will move this along by myself, as I do already know where it is going.