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    Brother Sergeant ArkhathBeltaine's Avatar
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    Apr 2005
    If nuclear war ever happens, I'm gonna be one of the first to die.

    Dark Elf Fic, chapter three

    This is the last of the old stuff. I can't remember if I ever posted this on the old forums or not. More comments means Dan is more happy. More happy means more writing. Also, if you complement me, I won't have my legions of ninja-squirrels swarm your town looting, pillaging and dragging back slaves for the master. Well, that last part's not entirely true. Anyone who knows will tell you that it's really hard to get squirrels to do anything.

    Right, on with the fic.


    Zhakhara was spinning through a maelstrom of chaotic energy. There was no up or down in this place, no cardinal point for her equilibrium to fix upon, only an endless sense of directionless motion. She felt tossed upon and buffeted by vortices of power, flinging her about in this no-place. As she went, tiny daemons attacked her, thirsting for her soul and her power. She could barely fight them off while at the mercy of the winds of magic.

    How she came to this state shocked Zhakhara. Her mastery of the forces of magic was complete. Many times had she traveled alone through the void and emerged stronger than before. She had undergone more trials and tests in her search for magical power than any mundane mortal could conceive. Each time, the hardship and danger had hardened and strengthened her, and thus she had refined her skills in the Dark Art. Few among the Convents could compare to her ability. So how had the skeins of magical power she wove unravel and slip from her grasp? How could she have lost control of her power? There was only one possible answer.


    That upstart tramp had to have interfered in her castings somehow. Zhakhara did not understand how it could have been done, but it was the only conclusion she could draw. The strange pulse in the winds of magic just before the disaster was wholly unnatural, and pointed to outside forces. The magic the necromancers employed was far too unsophisticated to be responsible, leaving Seiza as the only likely source. But how had she done it?

    Zhakhara set aside her questions and focused of the fact that Seiza was responsible. The resulting rage that filled her consciousness strengthened and centered her. The horde of daemon-parasites no longer seemed like an unrelenting assault. They were all swept away, by nothing more than a thought. With another thought, she stilled her hurtling through the maelstrom. As her focus was sharpened by the rage, the maelstrom came into greater clarity.

    While she was making sense of the swirls and eddies of energy, a dissonant pattern began to emerge. “Aha!” Zhakhara thought, “There’s an arrhythmic repetition to the waveform. Knowing that, I can find my way to a realm I’m more familiar with.” She drew upon a small portion of the surrounding energy to sample its nature. This would tell her more about her surroundings. “Hmm… I don’t seem to be too far removed from the Prime Immaterial Plane. That would place me in the Second or Third Hell. I just need to get to a planar barrier, and from there I can return to my sanctum in the Black Ark.”

    She prepared to go then, to ride the currents of energy back to the physical plane, when a chilling, inhuman voice stilled her.


    “Lamehk!” she gasped and turned to face the daemon. Slavemaster, it was called, and it was known to subjugate souls and bind them to its will. Many times had Zhakhara called upon its aspect to dominate and control the minds of her enemies. That she may have slipped into the Slavemaster’s realm inadvertently truly frightened her. “I must not let this daemon gain power over me” she thought.

    Zhakhara went to raise her hand in a commanding gesture towards the daemon, but something stopped her. She tried again, but her arm would not respond. Ignoring the first icy fingers of panic creeping into her core, she looked at her hand. That was when the chill grip of panic fully clutched her soul.

    She had no body.

    The Slavemaster chuckled as realization dawned over her. “YOUR SOUL HAS COME TO MY DOMAIN, LITTLE ELF. I SHALL ENJOY TOYING WITH YOU.”

    EDIT: I'm not quite sure about using 'tramp' in the third paragraph. I don't feel like it carries quite the right impact. But anything more harsh is also more vulgar that I want Zhakhara to be... even in her own head.
    Last edited by ArkhathBeltaine; 28-04-2005 at 04:25.
    "All that we’ve done is all that we are
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