Eberron Book One Stories
Page 9
The New Dreamers
"How!" he roared, launching another one of his poor homunculus’ across his workshop. He roared and his armor blades shook against one another like some horrible manifestation of his anger. If he breathed, one would claim that their flexing was in rhythm to that, but Bishop knew better, this was the infamous Lord of Blades, the great King of the warforged, and he was not pleased in the least at the news.
"Explain to me again exactly what you saw Prophet, and don’t spare the details." Bishop didn’t need to hear the exact words, he understood the underlying threat.
"You are now down to one child, sire. One lost to his own destiny, the other taken."
"Be clearer prophet." The faint glow in his eyes suggested he was ready to unleash some attack if Bishop did not comply.
"Twilight has turned against us sire. He has found refuge amongst the fleshed beings, and we have become his enemy. Dawn has been" Bishop paused, readying himself, "taken, forced into the service of some unknown force."
Bishop saw as the Lord picked up the nearest homunculus, one who was sadly too slow, and destroyed him with the unleashing of one his more powerful artificer powers. He unmade the poor creature with a thought.
"Who has stolen my daughter?" Bishop could almost feel the energy coming from the Lord of Blades, whatever the Lord had been doing; it had left some residual energy in him that now reacted with his obvious displeasure.
"Some unknown player I fear, all attempts to discover its identity have led me astray. Whatever it is, it is a powerful new force that we must understand before we tempt." Bishop knew in his heightened state, that the Lord would be more susceptible to his powers. He spoke more softly, letting the spell infuse his words, hoping to calm the Lord.
"I ask for time sire, I will find your daughter soon enough and I promise we will bring to heel the creature who dare tries to break our family up. I promise you brother." Bishop did not wait for his brother’s reaction; he left the Lord laboratory and left for his own makeshift church. He knew his effect was successful, but still, he had to get away.
The recent events were most troubling to Bishop, his plans were not faring well at all. Twilight was an utter failure, any attempts to learn more about that power would prove fruitless, unless by some miracle the orb was still intact. Dawn and Dusk were useful pawns, but this creature that took Dawn troubled him. Little in this continent could hide itself from his eyes, but this creature rebuffed him like a horse brushing off an annoying gnat. Bishop did not enjoy the feeling of being so… small to something like this.
Then there were the other recent visions he has had, that have forced him to reconsider his role in the grand events. His visions have led him to believe there are two other warforged out there who possess the same strength and gifts that he has.
The one he called Pawn, who hides skillfully from Bishop’s eyes. This one was active and not alone. Though he did not know where the this particular warforged lay planning, he did know that he has trafficked with his long lost kin. Their taint was obvious every time he sought out Pawn’s mind. Still, he was not someone to be trifled with, something enhanced Pawn’s power and the other around him.
The other, even more enigmatic mind, he had no idea where she was, or even who she might be. It was as if she somehow existed outside the timeline of events, still he felt a distinct connection with her, as he did with all the others. If Pawn would be the long lost nephew, made from the same era and creation machines of Twilight and the others, than this one was his long lost sister. His visions and idle thoughts had named her Queen, a moniker he feels fits this lost family member.
His plans had changed greatly, but Bishop was not out of the game quite yet. He closed his eyes and reached out into the emptiness. Just out of sight he touched again with that great consciousness he had led the other to believe a warforged god. It had created miracles for them, had them all in rapture, open to his new ideas. If King held their loyalty, Bishop held their faith. And in the end, it was their belief he needed.
"We must be ready~" the great voice mumbled into Bishop’s mind. "We two last survivors must be ready to claim the new age as our own."
"Yes, my brother." Bishop spoke, speaking to his true sibling "Once the fleshed have fallen, we shall create a new set of dreamers. And in them, a third, everlasting age shall rise. Neither light, nor darkness, an everlasting dream of steel."
A third eye glowed on Bishop’s head, he was ready to perform a new set of miracles. He looked out amongst his people, "Soon" he thought, "soon, you will all be our dreamers."
Fallin - Hunter and Prey
He had been on the run for a couple of months now. Ever since that day that he decided to undergo the change, to leave his friends behind, he has known nothing but the chase, the hunt. It was as if he were back in Valenar all over again, traveling with the war clans. It’s true that he himself was never a warrior during those times, but he still felt a small thrill of the coming battles.
Time had changed him, he had found his inner strength, and used to with deadly accuracy. Still his hunter’s pushed him, drove him further and further from anything he had ever known. He wondered how the others might be doing, wondered of the home he had to abandon, of his short time amongst friends.
He hated how the nature of his enemy had driven him to isolate himself. The dreaming dark, the quori as they were truly called, had the agents everywhere. Specialty hunters, pawns, and even the weak willed, any could be the agent of this darkness that hunted him. Now he finds himself in the Shadow Marches, a dank place where very few chose willingly to live.
The local orc tribes he had encountered had taught him to be extra cautious. They were all at first enamored by his youthful beauty, but as many were friendly as were not, and he found himself nearly escaping a few situations he had prefer not to be in the first place. He spent most days and nights alone, avoiding both beast and man, not knowing which was enemy or friend.
The other hunter on his trail, Xen, confounded him more than anyone else. He had learned the Valenar hunter’s name during one of their brief alliances, and more. Xen "Shadowhunter" Alleshyn, was a clanless hunter from Valenar. Clanless was a rarity, very few were allowed to be clanless and still have any sort of respect from the tribes, a hunter was one of them. Whatever the price on Fallin’s head, it was so much that Xen wanted no one else to claim his head. They had allied themselves when the chase had led them both into unfortunate situations, or when the dreaming dark had gotten unusually close.
Fallin thought there had to be something more than just the price on his head. He had seen the way Xen looked at him, how he protected him during various encounters. He recognized that look, and it would have been flattering if had not come from someone who would take him back to his death. Still, Fallin had to admit that there was something about the Hunter, something intriguing.
He crested over another hill and quickly lowered himself, in the valley below he saw another orc tribe. He carefully watched as the tribe had begun their evening rituals. As they danced, Fallin recognized one of the tribesmen; it was a friendly tribe he had met a few weeks earlier. Fallin knew he would find safety with them, they honored his dancing, it had made him a part of their tribe. He slowly approached the camp, he knew there would be guards, he had to make sure the recognized him before they attack.
As he approached the camp, he realized that none of the guards he had expected were there, it was very strange. Worry crept into Fallin’s thoughts and he very quickly and quietly made his way to the great campfire. As he got closer he recognized the song being played, a very simple but powerful beat, a holy song to this tribe he learned.
As he got closer, he realized no one was dancing, except for one lone figure in the middle. He watched as this tribesman danced, and was awed. He knew there were some younger limber dancers, mainly the humans or half-orcs of the tribe, but he had never seen any of them display this level of prowess. Fallin found himself transfixed, the movements were fluid, perfect. They balanced seduction and beauty, it was, Fallin quickly realized, familiar.
He timed the steps, watch the movement, he knew this dance. It was being performed perfectly, but how, Fallin wondered, how it is possible that some tribesman could know this dance. Fallin flashed back to that fateful night, that night when he caught the war chief’s eye so many years ago. It was this dance, this perfect dance that showed the full extent of his entire physical and mental prowess. How could it be that, and Fallin remembered. Fallin knew the next step was the finale, knew that the great trick would come up.
The dancer vanished in the air, gone from everyone’s sight. How, Fallin wondered, how could anyone know this dance, mimic it so perfectly? A sensation within Fallin, the slumbering voice warned him, he turned but the stranger; the tribesman was too close to avoid. Fallin stared straight into the dark eyes of the dancer. Slowly his mask was pulled away and Fallin stared into the eyes of his Hunter. In a flash, their time together, their fight, the way Xan protected him, the dance, Fallin realized he was prey, but a different kind of prey.
The tribe cheered.
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A lil Extra: the deviantart picture that inspired the end. Stare into the eyes of the hunter.
