Love's Labours Mocked
a play by Lyla Oubliette

Cast:

Ardan, a young Viscanti male
Melyna, a merian priestess
Darkan, a warlike Viscanti lord
Tysne, his wife
Rovar, a paladin of Celest
Bikiwillien, a Furrikin of the wilde

Mirik, an Elfen slave
Tjorrn, a Tae'dae slave
Tberin, a Tae'dae slave and brother of Tjorrn

A Nihilist

==============
ACT 1, SCENE 1
==============

A light, soft melody in a minor key sounds through the theater as the lights
dim, and then flicker off. The curtains slowly part and glide back, showing an
opulent parlor lit by warm golden light. Footsteps sound, and two slaves enter,
a tall, gaunt Elfen and a stocky black Tae'dae.

Mirik: (Gesturing expansively) You see my friend, how simple your life is now?
No more decisions, no more worry. Your masters are fine and fair, especially
the Lady Tysne.

Mirik: simpers slightly, languidly lifting a hand to his mouth to stifle a
titter.

Tjorrn: remains impassive, staring blankly at his fellow slave.

Mirik: (Perking up) Ah, here comes my Mistress!

As the slaves melt into the background to continue tidying, a sour-faced
Viscanti woman sweeps in dramatically, with a shrouded figure following close
behind her.

Tysne: (Heaving a heavy sigh that makes her generous bosom quiver) Oh cruel
Fates, that unjustly bring ill fortune upon my family. I would have you chart
the heavens again, perhaps some small mistake was made, to show such dire
foretellings.

Nihilist: (With evident disinterest and boredom) The only failing lies with
you, oh lady of Darkan. You misuse my art for your own desires.

Tysne: throws herself onto a fainting couch, leaning languidly and attempting
to look seductive.

Tysne: (Looking down her nose almost piggishly, voice an irritating whine)
Not for my desires, but for love of my only child! The Lord Darkan wages war,
and seeks to have my only, precious son as soldier in his army of blight and
ruin. He is still but a barely blushing boy, too long cloistered among the
womenfolk. He will make a beautiful corpse if my Lord has his way!

Nihilist: (Impassively) He will strengthen, or he will die. Do not call upon
us again for your selfish needs.

Tysne: (Lifting herself up slightly, face a mask of injured pride) Selfish?
Love of my son is selfish?

Nihilist: (Voice cold as the grave) Duty before love, always.

Tysne: (Voice rising to a furious shriek as she propels herself from the couch
to loom) Cold, heartless wretch! Fine, begone you cur, who yelps at the heels
of your betters!

Tysne: raises her hand as if to strike, then stops, a brief flash of fear
filling her face. Deliberately, she lowers it, trying to still maintain her
anger while showing at least marginal respect.

Nihilist: (With slightly smug menace) Ware your words, Lady, or your husband
will not protect you for long.

Nihilist: raises a hand in dismissal as he departs, abruptly enough to be
considered a snub.

Tysne: (As she begins to pace, wringing her hands) Oh ruin, oh spite, oh hate!
How do I loathe you, sweet husband? To take my only child, to destroy my only
joy? I would have you dead!

Tysne: turns her malevolent gaze to the two slaves in the background, heavy
form moving forward in what would be graceful, mincing steps if not for the way
she heaves and breathes heavily. A hand goes to her waist, to the elegantly
tooled whip that coils there, and she smiles nastily.

The Viscanti lady advances on the slaves, and the stage goes dark, curtains
falling as the crack of a whip sounds.

==============
ACT 1, SCENE 2
==============

With a cheerful trill of birdsong, the curtains part, showing a lovely little
valley dotted with flowers. A young Viscanti man gently leads along a delicate
Merian maiden, both followed by a grizzled brown tae'dae slave leading a proud
horse.

Melyna: (Clutching Ardan's fingers as she gazes up at him) But why, my love?
Why can we not run away now? Every day that passes makes me miss you more and
more.

Ardan: (Soothingly, though his expression seems patronizing) Sweet darling,
my Melyna, if you ran away to Magnagora, we could do so right away! But you
will not, and I cannot leave my mother yet. She needs me. You do not
understand, you have no family. Sometimes I wonder if you love your city more
than me.

Melyna: shakes her head violently, stopping and staring at Ardan in shock.

Melyna: (Aghast) Surely not! Surely I love you more than there are waves in
the ocean, more fiercely than the sun in the sky, and with more purity than all
the angels in Celestia. Do not doubt me now, when I defy every law to be with
you.

Ardan: glances away to smirk to himself, then composes his features and
glances back earnestly.

Ardan: What can I think? You will not come with me.

Melyna: (Pleadingly, squeezing his hand) Be patient, my love.

Ardan: (Lips pursing in a light frown) Ah, now you council patience. So
quickly does a woman's mind change. Fickle creature, why do you play such games
with me?

Melyna: sighs softly and lifts his hand to her lips for a light kiss.

Melyna: (With a hopeful smile) Peace, let us not spend stolen moments in
quarrel.

Ardan: (Indulgently as he reaches out to pat her head with his free hand) Aye,
let us not. Sweet flower, have you much time?

Melyna: (A touch timidly) Not enough, never enough. Sir Rovar expects me soon
for prayers and meditation.

Ardan: turns his head and spits angrily, face darkening.

Ardan: (Nastily) Fie on that miserable creature! Do not let him touch you, or
I shall go mad, and come into the city itself to destroy him.

Melyna: (Pleadingly, though with resignation in her voice) Ardan! Be not so
vicious! He is kind, and good man, who would never do me harm.

A rustle of leaves heralds the entrance of a squirrel-like female furrikin.
She notices the lovers and ducks down, watching with a curiously calculating
expression, staying out of their easy view.

Ardan: (Absently caressing her cheek) I do not expect him to harm you, but I
expect you think more good of him than he has in him. People in your city of
'light' are seldom as good as they think they are, and often covet what they
cannot have. Hush now, silly little thing, and kiss me.

Ardan: cups her cheek and tenderly, but possessively leans down to kiss her,
capturing her lips with his.

Rovar: (His voice calling out from off to the left) Melyna! Are you here?
You are late to prayer!

The lovers part with a soft gasp, Ardan glowering darkly as he releases her and
beckons to his slave.

Ardan: (With a sigh) Oh Nil...here comes the great and glorious Knight.
Sweetling, I must depart now. Meet me tomorrow night, on the bridge over the
Gloriana river, when the moon is high. Do not say me no, only meet me there.

Ardan: leans in to give Melyna one last, passionate kiss, and then swings up
onto his horse, trotting off in the opposite direction from where the knight is
approaching. The tae'dae slave lumbers along behind, with one last look over
his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

Melyna: (In a voice that trembles on the edge of tears) Oh my heart...what
will I do?

With the clank of armor, a tall Merian paladin strides in, broad face solemn
and disappointed. He pauses and places a hand on his hip, frowning at the
maiden.

Rovar: (Chidingly) Melyna! Why are you forever late? You must learn to
discipline yourself, or you will fall into ways of corruption! Vigilance is the
only way to fight the enemy! Not mooning about and ignoring your
responsibilities!

Melyna: (Tremulously) Oh...Rovar! Leave me be! Cease your constant
badgering and your talk of duty, I am sick almost to death of hearing such
things!

Melyna: flees, lifting up her skirt as she runs offstage, tears spilling down
her cheeks.

Rovar: sighs, but doesn't seem terribly concerned, shaking his head.

Rovar: Foolish chit of a girl, can she not see how I care for her? I only
wish to mould her, to give her the knowledge and strength she will need to one
day teach my sons our ways.

Bikiwillien: scampers out of her bushes and darts towards the Paladin, eyes
wide.

Bikiwillien: (In a piercing, irritating voice) Knight of New Celest! Ill
news! Ill news!

Rovar: (Turning to stare at the furrikin, forehead creasing) Cease your
irritating cries, oh creature of the forests! I have no need of any nuts today,
go back to your savage wilds and trouble me no further!

Bikiwillien: (Shrugging it off) Ah, so it is, so it is. Have you no desire,
then, to hear what manly creature your lass did lay her lips upon so tenderly
before you arrived?

Rovar: stares in shock, and then glowers, a fist tightening.

Rovar: (Nearly shouting at first, and then strangling back his anger to speak
normally) What? This is ill news indeed. The shameless girl was meeting a
lover? Tell me then, that I may find and destroy him!

Bikiwillien: (Expression turning sly) Nothing is free, lord knight, nothing
is free! What will you give me in return for knowledge?

Rovar: (Slashing a hand through the air) I do not care! Anything, just tell
me so that I may drive my sword into the wretch and regain my lady's honour!

Bikiwillien: (With satisfaction) Ah, well, then, anything it is? She was
making time with a Viscanti, my lord. Planning to meet him tomorrow night at
the bridge over the Gloriana. They did embrace most fervently, and share tender
kisses and longing sighs.

Rovar: (Shocked, and then furious) A Viscanti! She must be maddened! Surely
the taint has touched her, we must have her purified immediately! I will not
suffer this wretch to live, or surely he will tell the entire basin, and she
will no longer be fit to wed! Thank you, good lady furrikin, I must now go and
plan.

Bikiwillien: gives a slow, lascivious smile, hands going to her bare hips.

Bikiwillien: (In a soft coo) A moment, sir knight. I would have my
repayment. Your vicious sword may be hungry for blood, but I've a waiting
sheathe for it, so bide you here a while and sate a different hunger.

Rovar: (Contemplatively, looking over the unclothed furrikin) Very well, good
creature, I always pay my debts. Hie the deeper into the bracken, I do not wish
anyone to see me lie with a beast.

Bikiwillien: (cheerfully, scrambling off into the bushes) As you say, as you
say!

Rovar: follows with a slightly-pained sigh, reaching up to unbuckle his belt
as he walks.

The light fades out with one last measure of birdsong, and the curtains fall.

==============
ACT 1, SCENE 3
==============

The lights slowly come up, flickering over the gilt decorating the parlour in
the house of Darkan. The Lord himself stands poised, in full armor, over his
groveling wife. His face is dark with anger, and she is blubbering quite
unattractively, nose beginning to run.

Tysne: (Voice a nasal whine) Stay! My Lord, stay thy wicked plans! He is my
son for now, not yours, as you promised me! Give him to me as you promised, do
not take him out to be felled like a simple peon!

Darkan: (Dark, growling voice tight with fury) Silence, stupid wench!

Darkan: reaches back with one metal-gloved fist, and strikes his wife, hard
enough to send her tumbling to her side. He stares with obvious disgust at her
fleshy form, then shakes his head.

Darkan: (Coldly) You have yet to bear me any more children, and so I must
take my pale and sickly son to the battlefields, in the hopes of making yet a
man of him! The failure is yours, not mine, for I have given you the gift of my
manhood oft enough to bear a dozen fine sons!

Tysne: (Leaning up while holding her cheek, whimpering pathetically) You
promised me!

Darkan: (Staring down imperiously) A bargain, not a promise, and your barren
womb has failed to uphold your end, withered hag. It is no wonder that I find
my pleasures elsewhere, and you are lowered to taking slaves to your bed.

Tysne: (Pulling herself up to a sitting position with quite a bit of effort,
breathless but still wailing) Your insults mean nothing here, all I wish is for
you to uphold your promise! You have done nothing but lie to me since the day
we were wed, never upholding a single promise you made to me!

Darkan: (scornfully, as he steps back) A liar am I now? Impudent harridan,
if it were not for the clout of your family I would have condemned you to a
gravedigger's pit the instant your bosom started sagging.

Tysne: (Wringing her hands, voice rising to a shriek) The cards and the stars
have foretold doom! Doom! You meddle with my beloved son at your own risk,
husband! He is meant for greater things than you are capable of comprehending!

Darkan: (Icily) You grow mad, old woman.

Darkan: turns on his heel and strides out with martial bearing, not looking
back.

Tysne: (Puffing and wheezing as she heaves herself to her feet) The whole
basin plots against me, I feel it in my bones.

Tysne: crosses heavily to a small side table and picks up a bell, ringing it
sharply.

Flouncing in first comes Mirik, followed by the lumbering form of Tjorrn, who
eyes his companion slave with evident distaste.

Mirik: (Sketching a florid bow) Yes, my magnificent mistress?

Tysne: (Lowering herself onto the fainting couch with a sigh, voice
theatrical) Bring me my potions and powders, I must clear my mind to receive
strength and visions of what is to come.

Mirik: moves across the room to the credenza, uncorking a bottle and pouring
out a measure of thick, amber brown liquid. He moves over and begins selecting
some herbs, adding them to a pestle and grinding them up.

Tjorrn: slowly reaches over while Mirik is occupied, and drops a small pinch
of black powder into the glass. It smokes for a moment, and then stills, as if
nothing happened. The tae'dae withdraws his hand just in time, as Mirik turns.

Mirik: (Picking up the glass carefully and crossing to offer it to Tysne, down
on one knee) Here we are, my mistress. Just the potion to ease your ills.

Tysne: lifts the glass delicately and takes a small sip, eyes going vague,
body relaxing.

Tysne: (Languidly) Ah, I feel my mind opening already. Good, now burn the
cleansing herbs, that we may dispel the malignant presence of my husband before
we begin our spiritual awakening.

Tjorrn: quickly adds another powder to the ground pile of herbs, and then goes
to collect a broom, focusing on the task of sweeping the floor.

Mirik: glides over to pour out the herbs into a censer, lighting them before
closing the top and lifting the chain, bringing it over to fill the air with
thick, heavy smoke.

Tysne: (Words thickening into a lazy, drugged drawl) Yesss...my mind is clear,
my body filling with strength! Ultimate truth will be mine tonight...

The lights begin to dim as Tjorrn discreetly slips out, one hand covering his
nose.

Tysne: (Slurring slightly) Prepare yourself for me, slave, and bring the
black box to my chamber. Suffering will be yours tonight.

The stage goes dark, and the curtains begin to slide back into place, cutting
off the heavy smell of the smoke.

Mirik: (tenderly) Anything for you, Mistress.

==============
ACT 2, SCENE 1
==============

The stage is cast in shadows of twilight, except for a few pools of light from
glowing orbs, highlighting a street in New Celest.

Melyna: staggers into view from the left at a run, long white robe tattered
and spattered with crimson. Her back is a mess of whip marks, skin lacerated
and bleeding.

Melyna: (Gasping for breath, voice full of despair) Ai me! I can no longer
run! My legs fail me, Ardan, I am so sorry!

Bikiwillien: steps away from the building, clucking worriedly. She approaches
with hesitation, darting here and there.

Bikiwillien (Curiously) What do you run from, Priestess of the Light? Why do
you run, why do you bleed so?

Melyna: stops in surprise with a start and a gasp, cheeks paling even further.

Melyna: (Nervously, glancing over her shoulder) Alas, the love could not be
purged from my heart by words, creature of the forest. Nor by the whip, it only
brought forth the rebellion long simmering within me. Why violence? Why such
hatred? I have found truth today, and it speeds me from the city.

Bikiwillien: (With a sly glance to the audience) Ah, but then where do you
go, where do you run to? You cannot just run from, you must run to as well, or
you can never go anywhere.

Melyna: (Trying to sound firm, though her lower lip quivers) To Magnagora, I
must. I must flee, I must go to them, to my love.

Bikiwillien: (Shaking her head vigorously) No, no, not as you are. You will
be struck down, thrown out, flayed alive and hung on a cross. There is no
forgiveness there, no understanding. There is no second chances, not for people
such as you. What you must do instead...

Melyna: (Eyes wide with fright) What? What can I do?

Bikiwillien: (Lowering her voice) To the Portal of the Fates you must go.
You must take this knife, this knife I have...

Bikiwillien: draws a slender, long knife out of the pouch at her waist. It
glints wickedly as she offers it over.

Bikiwillien: (With a nod of her head) And drive it into your heart with all
the strength of will and body you possess. Beg the Fates, and they will remake
your body anew, you will be reborn, and thus you will be able to join your love,
in a new form. Be wary, be aware, you cannot do so twice.

Melyna: (Eyes filling with tears, lip trembling as she accepts the knife)
Aye, I will do as you say, noble creature, and remake myself, so that I can be
with him forever.

Bikiwillien: (Nodding) Make sure, be sure that it is what you wish,
Priestess. There is no going back.

Melyna: (Eyes flashing as she lifts her chin, and then begins to walk) I
cannot go back now either way. I have chosen my path.

Melyna: departs to the left, limping piteously.

Bikiwillien: (shaking her head slightly) Poor fools, children are. Poor
fools for love.

From the shadows, a deep voice full of icy rage intones a single word, full of
menace.

Rovar: So...

Rovar: steps forward until he is bathed in light.

Rovar:

Bikiwillien: (With a squeak of fright) Sir Knight!

Rovar: (Sliding his heavy sword from its sheathe with a menacing hiss) This
will not be borne.

Bikiwillien: (Recovering, and chittering rapidly) No, Sir Knight, stay thy
sword! You cannot strike me down for this, I am not subject to your laws! The
child was unhappy, I merely...

The creature's words are cut off as the silver blade inscribes an arc, flashing
with deadly light. With a spray of blood and a sickly thump, Bikiwillien's head
is severed from the body, which sways for a moment before collapsing,
loose-limbed, to the ground. Rovar calmly draws a cloth from his belt and wipes
the blood from his sword, face blank.

Rovar: (Thoughtfully) The boy or the girl? Who to go to? Obviously they
both should die now, but if I went now, I could likely stop her, and perhaps
even save her.

Rovar: She had her chance. Let the stupid chit throw herself to the Fates.
New Celest will be waiting when she emerges. For me? I will find the boy, and
let my brethren slay the girl. The boy must die by my hand, this is all his
fault.

Rovar: gives a slow, humourless smile, eyes disturbingly empty.

Rovar: She had her chance. Let the stupid chit throw herself to the Fates.
New Celest will be waiting when she emerges. For me? I will find the boy, and
let my brethren slay the girl. The boy must die by my hand, this is all his
fault.

Rovar: raises his sword, face twisting into a mask of hatred. He slashes it
once, and then sheathes it viciously, hand clutching the pommel.

Rovar: (Voice raising to a vengeful roar) There will be blood tonight,
Magnagora! THIS I SWEAR!

The lights wink out abruptly and the stage goes dark, curtain swishing back
into place.

==============
ACT 2, SCENE 2
==============

The curtain rises, half the stage dark, the other lit to show a mountain path,
heading ever upwards. The light is murky, and fog swirls around menacingly.

Melyna: staggers in, chest heaving as she pants, arms and hands lacerated from
climbing. She continues walking as she speaks, feet dragging.

Melyna: (Breathlessly) Ai me, the climb will kill me before I reach the
Portal! Fates, please give me strength!

Melyna: emote stumbles and falls to her knees, crying out. Tears begin to
course down her cheeks, but she slowly gets up and keeps going.

Melyna: (Weeping, fingers digging into the rock wall to keep her going)
Ardan! I'm coming!

The stage goes completely dark, and then the left side slowly brightens, a pale
blue light that bathes a bridge, and the boy standing there.

Ardan: (Impatiently) Stupid girl, where is she? I do not like waiting here,
it makes me nervous. Something is wrong tonight, I can feel it.

Ardan: taps his fingers on the railing, sullen expression deepening.

Ardan: (Dismissively, leaning back and away, turning to pace) I shall give
her a bit longer. Perhaps I should leave a note, and go home.

Ardan: stops, a grimace crossing his face. He shakes his head and sighs.

Ardan: (With disgust) Ugh, mother. I had forgotten, this will likely make
her even more shrill than before. 'Ardan, how could you? Ardan, I hate her!
Ardan, don't you love me any more?'.

Ardan: (Laughing maliciously) Of course not, Mother. Who would?

The stage goes black again, and in the darkness, a voice whispers, tense with
agony, "Oh, I love you, Mistress. My d...Mistress? Mistress?!"

Mirik: (Wheezing, gasping) Mis...mistress! I cannot...I cannot breathe!
M...what's wrong with you?!

A heavy thump sounds, along with the sounds of struggle, heavy, hoarse
breathing that slowly starts to quiet, until all is still, except for the creak
of leather.

A wavering light flickers on, softly golden, and widens until it highlights
the bulky form of a male Tae'dae, holding a candle.

Tjorrn: (Quietly) It is done, Master.

Tjorrn: walks across the stage and sets the candle down on a table, the light
following him, until it reveals a bed, surrounded by heavy velvet curtains. Off
the left side the unclothed body of Tysne hangs down the side, arm limp, eyes
open and staring, the curtain cutting off the view of her corpse from the waist.
By her hand is a shattered glass, with a golden liquid that seems to be slowly
eating through the floor.

Tjorrn: takes a knife from the bedside table and leans into the bed, head
disappearing into the curtains. He pauses for a moment, then leans back out
again, chuckling softly in his rumbling voice.

Tjorrn: (With a nod of his head) Dead. The poor fool is now a rather
interesting shade of purple, I have to say. It's quite funny, really. The
Master should get a good laugh from it, I'll leave them there.

Tjorrn: chortles, and leans down to blow out the candle, casting the stage
into darkness again.

The whole stage begins to slowly light with a pulsating glow, fog rolling in
and spilling off the edge of the stage. The glow seems to be mainly coming from
the left, as if something is there, just out of sight.

Melyna: cries out in pain and drags herself in from the right, taking a few
last steps before falling to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks as she
lifts her hands.

Melyna: (Voice cracking with weariness) I have found it! The Portal of
Fate! Here I may begin my life anew!

Melyna: draws the knife from her belt, and holds it up to her chest, gripping
the pommel with both hands. She holds the pose for a long moment, eyes cast
upwards, then lets the tip droop.

Melyna: (With a sob) Will it hurt? Oh, I do not know if I can do it.
Ardan, forgive me!

Melyna: wavers for a moment, lifting the point and then letting it drop, all
the while crying.

Melyna: (Lifting her chin abruptly) No! This is not how I end!

Melyna: drives herself forward onto the blade, falling onto it. She slumps
forward, slightly on her side with her face out to the audience. Blood begins
to trickle out of the corner of her mouth, and she gives a tremulous smile, eye
glazing over.

Melyna: (In a soft whisper) I...love you.

A tendril of mist swirls up from the fog, and dances towards the portal. The
fog itself thickens, until it shadows the dead Merian, and finally swallows her
whole, as if the corpse is disappearing.

Three figures enter from the right, the mist parting before them. They
simply wait, weapons at the ready.

Melyna: staggers in unsteadily from the right, knees buckling weakly. She
lifts a scarlet hand and stares at it in wonder, eyes going wide.

Melyna: (In awe) I do not know myself...

Paladin: (In a strident, cold voice) Nor do we, creature of taint.

Melyna: glances up with a gasp, falling back and to her knees.

Melyna: No! But how did you find me? Please, leave me be, I beg of you! I
have hurt no one, I have done nothing but followed my heart! Have you no pity,
no mercy in your souls?

Celestine: (Scornfully, voice full of pride) Mercy? Mercy for one who
willingly chose to abandon Celestia for Nil? You have condemned yourself when
you refused to be purified!

Melyna: (Desperately, terror in her voice) I beg of you! Have pity on me, I
did what I did for love! Does not Lady Raziela teach us of love unconditional?
I chose not to give up on my beloved, even though he was of Magnagora, and you
shunned me and abused me!

Aquamancer: (Waving a hand in dismissal, and then raising his staff) The girl
speaks in idiocy.

Paladin: (Raising her hammer and approaching) Behold the Light of Celestia,
foul creature of Nil!

The stage goes black as the three converge on the cowering girl, and a scream
of terror and anguish echoes through the theater. It continues on for an
agonizingly long time, going from a piercing shriek to a guttural cry of
ultimate suffering.

Abruptly the scream is cut short, leaving the silence ringing with an almost
palpable weight. Slowly, the curtain falls.

==============
ACT 2, SCENE 3
==============

The curtain rises on the bridge, which is lit with a pale blue light. Ardan
still paces there, looking more and more irritable by the moment, and more
worried.

Ardan: (pausing and staring up at the sky, forehead furrowed) She is so
late...something is wrong, I feel it in my gut.

Rovar: steps into the light quietly, the sword in his hand glinting in the
moonlight. He approaches Ardan from behind, with surprising stealth.

Rovar: (quietly) Your gut, you say? I can remedy that for you quite easily.
Perhaps having a sword sheathed therein will settle any lingering doubts you
have.

Ardan: spins in surprise, eyes going wide, hands coming up.

Ardan: (Arrogant voice suddenly full of fear as he backs away) Knight of
Celest! Why do you come upon me here with malicious intent? I do not know you!
I am unarmed!

Rovar: stalks after him, moving with almost serpentine menace. He tilts his
sword so that the blade flashes in the light again, ominously.

Rovar: (Offering a grim, humourless smile) Ah, you do not know me? Somehow
I doubt it. This is what tempted my lovely, pure Melyna? A sniveling, cowardly
Maggot, who cannot even stand up for his so called love?

Ardan: (drawing himself up suddenly) Melyna! So you knew, did you? It is
you that has kept her from me this night! I never doubted her for a moment.
Release her, and...and my father shall have mercy on you!

Rovar: (With a dry, dead chuckle) Oh, she has been released. After the
stupid child threw herself to the taint, my compatriots were waiting for her, no
doubt. She should be well...released by now, more's the pity. This is what
your selfish desires have wrought! Her death is on your head!

Ardan: (Blinks in shock, but no sorrow, quickly recovering) You...you killed
her? She became tainted, for me? I did not think it would go that far, but
that is not the issue at hand! I did nothing! She died by your actions, not
mine! I am not at fault here!

Rovar: (Expression darkening with rage as he raises his sword) My fault?! It
was yours that she fell into sin, into darkness! You are the creature of evil
here, not I! Die, foul creature!

Ardan: (shrinking back, lifting his hands) Mercy, mercy I beg of you! I did
not intend to lead her astray! Please, I beg you, spare me! My father will
give you gold, power, what ever you desire, just spare my life!

Rovar: (With evident disgust) What a worm you are. I am doing your city a
service, I fear.

Rovar: raises his sword again, standing poised over the cowering Viscanti.
He smirks, arrogantly, and then swings his sword back to strike.

From the shadows, a hulking figure suddenly looms up behind the Paladin. There
is no glint of metal as the Warlord lifts his gigantic, blackened sword, only
the menacing hiss as it cuts through the air.

A crimson fountain erupts as the sword falls, cleaving Rovar's head in twain.
As the body jerks reflexively in agony, blood sprays across the theater, hot
droplets splattering against your face. The sword continues its deadly arc,
finding no resistance as it splits the Paladin from head to groin, turning the
river dark. The body falls to the side, one half tumbling into the bloodied
waters.

Darkan: (Reaching up to remove his dripping helm and staring impassively down
at his son) Good evening, Ardan.

Ardan: stares blankly up at the hulking spectre that is his father, a gobbet
of brain dropping off his cheek. Abruptly he leans over the side of the bridge
and retches miserably, body shuddering.

Darkan: (Face darkening) So, you cannot even take responsibility for what
you have wrought? Begging for mercy, turning weak at the sight of blood? There
is no word for how much of a disappointment you are to me, Ardan.

Darkan: snaps his fingers, and the two Tae'dae enter from the left, reaching
for Ardan's arms. They jerk him upright between them and he hangs limply, face
pale, eyes spilling over tears.

Darkan: (stepping forward, leaning down until he can stare his son in the
face) Your mother and yourself have been weights around my ankles for as long
as you have been alive. The fat old hag is dead, and now there is only one
thing left that weighs me down. I wondered if you were worth saving, son, but
now I know you are not even worthy to clean my stables.

Darkan: steps back and nods to the Tae'dae, before turning around and
striding off without a backwards glance, kicking the remains of Rovar out of his
way as he exits.

Ardan: breaks out of his trance and starts gibbering, nose running, bloody
tears leaking down his face.

Ardan: (Desperately) Tberin! My slave! Release me, I beg you, and I will
free you! Both you and your brother, I promise you, will be free! Please, I
will do anything!

Tberin: laughs, a deep, mirthless sound.

Tjorrn: (Rumbling voice full of malice) Sorry, little lordling, but we are
not slaves, and never were. Your so called promises mean nothing.

Tberin: drags up a sack and withdraws a round stone, of the kind used to grind
grain, and a stout length of rope. He begins binding it tightly to Ardan's leg.

Ardan: shrieks and starts trying to kick, but the Tae'dae are much stronger.
It does not take long until his legs are bound together, weighted by the heavy
stone.

Tjorrn: (Neatly tying Ardan's hands together) Now now, let's have no more of
that blubbering. You can at least die like a man. Ready then, brother Tberin?

Tberin: (Reaching down to lift the heavy stone) Ready, brother Tjorrn. Let
us rid our father of this sniveling whelp.

With a scream of terror, Ardan is heaved over the side of the bridge, thrashing
as best he can as he arcs into the water and sinks with a splash. The Tae'dae
watch to make sure he goes down, then nod their heads and follow after the
departed warlord, shoulder to shoulder.

The moonlight shines over the blood-drenched bridge, river flowing undisturbed
now. The remains of the corpse of Rovar dangle half in the water where left by
the warlord's kick, until they are pulled by the current and topple into the
water with a plop.

The light fades out, and the curtain slides back into place silently, with one
soft, final swish.

==============
ACT 2, SCENE 4
==============

A single lyre plays a mournful threnody, the haunting notes soft enough that
the sound of the curtains pulling back can be heard. The stage is still black,
until a single column of white light brightens a circle in the middle of the
stage, the robed and hooded figure in the middle still seeming cloaked in
shadows.

Nihilist: (Lifting his head to show two glowing green eyes in the depths of
his hood) Death stalks all the unworthy, seeking to sever their threads
forever. Weakness of will, false arrogance...

A golden light filters down, highlighting the ghastly corpses of Ardan and
Melyna, who embrace tenderly. He bloated, distorted, and dripping water, she
burned and horribly mangled, stare out at the audience with eyeless, ghoulish
faces.

Nihilist: (Lifting and spreading his hands wide, voice cold and scornful)
Pettiness, incompetence, and the great crime of idiocy...

A sickly green light casts through roiling fog, highlighting the hanging,
purpled corpse of Mirik, whose eyes and tongue protrude disgustingly. As the
mist clears, the corpulent body of Tysne is revealed, posed in a grotesque
parody of sensuality, face a rictus of pain, bloody drool dripping out of the
side of her mouth.

Nihilist: (Folding his hands at his waist) Neutrality.

A murky light barely shows the form of the furrikin, Bikiwillien, bloody paws
holding her own head, which stares out disturbingly at the audience with mouth
agape.

Nihilist: (Nodding his head as he turns to survey the corpses all around him)
And of course...the ignorance that can only be described as...the Light.

A brilliant white light pierces the last dark space of the stage, but it
quickly turns crimson instead. A pile of corpses lies there, with four heads in
front of it, though that of Rovar seems to have been stitched back together from
two halves. All of their mouths are open, and their tongues have been cut out,
and eyes removed.

Nihilist: (Lifting his voice until it rings out) Those who cannot see truth,
or speak truth. The Light brings death.

Darkan: strides into the light, and the Nihilist steps back out of the way,
melting into the shadows. His sword drips blood, and he drives it, point first,
into the stage.

Darkan: (Voice booming, harsh and victorious) I am that Death.

Darkan: very slowly lifts his arm, uncurling one metal-clad finger and
pointing it out at the audience, helmed head scanning the theater.

Darkan: (Closing his fist again and thrusting it into the air with a
spine-tingling battle cry) We are that Death!

The stage goes black abruptly, and the curtain falls one last time, casting
the theater into darkness.

The theater house lights begin to flicker back on, signaling the end of the
show.