Whispers in The Swamp - Wil - 29.10.19
Nov 2, 2019 19:19:00 GMT
Milo Brightmane, Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼, and 2 more like this
Post by Wil Frozendagger on Nov 2, 2019 19:19:00 GMT
There was nothing.
There used to be things but now there was nothing.
At one point there was a chapel to two gods, quite different from one another, and in that chapel was once a tragedy. The anguish of a dead man, felt by another, his comrades laid asunder, and a a fierce, raging battle between mortals and monsters. A battle unfinished.
But that was no longer there, and in its place was nothing.
A nothing observed by a nothing that once was something.
But that something was now nothing, and all that that nothing could do was wait.
It had somewhere to be. Somewhere where nothing could be something.
But could it be something there?
NO.
Nothing said nothing but it knew, it knew it could never be something there, the Halls of Ysgard wouldn't take it.
NO.
The Halls of Ysgard would never desecrate itself with a nothing that became nothing so feebly, without so much as a fight!
NO.
So was he just supposed to wait there? Wait for Kelemvor to send him to further nothing?!
NO.
Nothing screamed a silent declaration, relenting at the nothing surrounding it, adamant and indignant.
I AM WIL FROZENDAGGER AND I AM STILL HERE!
There was still nothing.
AND HERE I SHALL REMAIN!
There was still nothing.
IF YOU WANT MY SOUL YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE IT FROM ME!
And where there was once nothing there was water, endless water, dark and stormy, raging, roiling, frothing, foaming mad water.
Nothing thought a nothing thought about coins in the sea to a goddess, dived, and became something once more.
"Wil! Are you okay? How was being dead?" The familiar voice of a something called Taz called out to him.
"Fucking awful, mate."
Wil lay on his hard bed in a room in the Seashank, the walls and floors hardly drowning out the noise down below in the tavern, and so dearly wished he could go down and get them all to shut up. Either that or get himself a bottle of something. His body couldn't oblige though, the strain of resurrection was far too exhausting, so instead he lay and ruminated upon all the things that had happened thus far. He had only actually felt the pain of death whilst inhabiting the mind of that cleric... what was his name? Wil could barely remember. He didn't recall anything about his own death however. The plant hit him, and then...
"That plant...!"
How could he fall in battle to a plant of all things, without even getting a single hit in?! There was no way he could face his family like that! It was just as well that he was revived. He remembered there was a time that he would have happily accepted the darkness, but this was certainly no longer those times, and certainly not like that. He made a mental note to visit the Temple of the Two Faiths once he was back to his regular self.
I do hope you're not going to abandon me for some false gods, Frozendagger.
Wil shuddered as he heard the voice echoing through his head in every single language he could comprehend and several others that were beyond him, that alien voice that had evaded him for so long, that alien voice that started it all.
"Well this resurrection is certainly real, how about that?"
Mortal child, you have the wrong idea. Regardless of the source of power, it was man's deeds and endeavours that brought you back. It was your associates that paid in favours and the priest that cast the spell. Umberlee only provided the apparatus. Tell me, have I ever claimed ownership of your deeds? Would you like me to?
Wil stayed silent for he couldn't find the words to refute this.
If I desired such a thing I would simply enthrall you and be done with it, but what good would that do me? You are so much more useful as you are than any slave. True freedom to live as you wish, that is the greatest power one can have. Remember that.
"So what do you call this between us? Freedom? Really?"
I could have let you die that day, Frozendagger, for I had already marked that ship as my target for new thralls. I have shown you the highest form of mercy, and unlike those false gods, that was all me. I've given you but the tiniest fraction of my knowledge and power and already you are so much more than you could've ever hoped to be otherwise. If you're going to make your ancestors so proud of you I would suggest you do not insult the grace that I have shown you. Not once have I questioned your course of actions, not when you tore the engineer's house apart, not when you left that accursed cleaver, not when you dived blindly after the sahuagin, not when you engaged that child Shivon in melee combat, not even all the times you've thrown that ridiculous net. I have given you the power to seize freedom for yourself, for you were a slave before you met me, a slave to the fates.
"Is that what you're after too then? The power to get true freedom or whatever? That why you're gathering all this knowledge?"
Knowledge is power, that much is true. This is a discussion for later, maybe not even with you, for your lifetime is a drop in the ocean against mine after all. In any case, I believe you have something to tell me.
"Yeah, you know anything about somebody called The Messenger? Strange amorphous thing in the swamp. Runes on a weird evil jade. People speaking our language. Ring any bells?"
No. My knowledge of Kantas is incomplete and not up to date, which is why you're there. But if it is an entity of our Realms then that is quite interesting indeed. Keep watch and deal with it as appropriate. There may be something interesting here for me yet. Or don't. You are free after all.
Wil felt slighted at that. That slimebag already knew he was going to keep tabs, regardless of whether he was told. Besides, he was obligated ever since the revival.
One last thing, Frozendagger, I assume you don't wish to exchange your magical potency for darkvision anymore, or am I mistaken?
Finally, something Wil could answer.
"I'm fine with swinging blind as long as I hit as hard as I can."
But of course. Have it your way.
With that the voice faded from his mind and Wil let out a large breath, finally released from the tension that communicating with his patron directly brought.
"I hate that guy.".
There used to be things but now there was nothing.
At one point there was a chapel to two gods, quite different from one another, and in that chapel was once a tragedy. The anguish of a dead man, felt by another, his comrades laid asunder, and a a fierce, raging battle between mortals and monsters. A battle unfinished.
But that was no longer there, and in its place was nothing.
A nothing observed by a nothing that once was something.
But that something was now nothing, and all that that nothing could do was wait.
It had somewhere to be. Somewhere where nothing could be something.
But could it be something there?
NO.
Nothing said nothing but it knew, it knew it could never be something there, the Halls of Ysgard wouldn't take it.
NO.
The Halls of Ysgard would never desecrate itself with a nothing that became nothing so feebly, without so much as a fight!
NO.
So was he just supposed to wait there? Wait for Kelemvor to send him to further nothing?!
NO.
Nothing screamed a silent declaration, relenting at the nothing surrounding it, adamant and indignant.
I AM WIL FROZENDAGGER AND I AM STILL HERE!
There was still nothing.
AND HERE I SHALL REMAIN!
There was still nothing.
IF YOU WANT MY SOUL YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE IT FROM ME!
And where there was once nothing there was water, endless water, dark and stormy, raging, roiling, frothing, foaming mad water.
Nothing thought a nothing thought about coins in the sea to a goddess, dived, and became something once more.
"Wil! Are you okay? How was being dead?" The familiar voice of a something called Taz called out to him.
"Fucking awful, mate."
Wil lay on his hard bed in a room in the Seashank, the walls and floors hardly drowning out the noise down below in the tavern, and so dearly wished he could go down and get them all to shut up. Either that or get himself a bottle of something. His body couldn't oblige though, the strain of resurrection was far too exhausting, so instead he lay and ruminated upon all the things that had happened thus far. He had only actually felt the pain of death whilst inhabiting the mind of that cleric... what was his name? Wil could barely remember. He didn't recall anything about his own death however. The plant hit him, and then...
"That plant...!"
How could he fall in battle to a plant of all things, without even getting a single hit in?! There was no way he could face his family like that! It was just as well that he was revived. He remembered there was a time that he would have happily accepted the darkness, but this was certainly no longer those times, and certainly not like that. He made a mental note to visit the Temple of the Two Faiths once he was back to his regular self.
I do hope you're not going to abandon me for some false gods, Frozendagger.
Wil shuddered as he heard the voice echoing through his head in every single language he could comprehend and several others that were beyond him, that alien voice that had evaded him for so long, that alien voice that started it all.
"Well this resurrection is certainly real, how about that?"
Mortal child, you have the wrong idea. Regardless of the source of power, it was man's deeds and endeavours that brought you back. It was your associates that paid in favours and the priest that cast the spell. Umberlee only provided the apparatus. Tell me, have I ever claimed ownership of your deeds? Would you like me to?
Wil stayed silent for he couldn't find the words to refute this.
If I desired such a thing I would simply enthrall you and be done with it, but what good would that do me? You are so much more useful as you are than any slave. True freedom to live as you wish, that is the greatest power one can have. Remember that.
"So what do you call this between us? Freedom? Really?"
I could have let you die that day, Frozendagger, for I had already marked that ship as my target for new thralls. I have shown you the highest form of mercy, and unlike those false gods, that was all me. I've given you but the tiniest fraction of my knowledge and power and already you are so much more than you could've ever hoped to be otherwise. If you're going to make your ancestors so proud of you I would suggest you do not insult the grace that I have shown you. Not once have I questioned your course of actions, not when you tore the engineer's house apart, not when you left that accursed cleaver, not when you dived blindly after the sahuagin, not when you engaged that child Shivon in melee combat, not even all the times you've thrown that ridiculous net. I have given you the power to seize freedom for yourself, for you were a slave before you met me, a slave to the fates.
"Is that what you're after too then? The power to get true freedom or whatever? That why you're gathering all this knowledge?"
Knowledge is power, that much is true. This is a discussion for later, maybe not even with you, for your lifetime is a drop in the ocean against mine after all. In any case, I believe you have something to tell me.
"Yeah, you know anything about somebody called The Messenger? Strange amorphous thing in the swamp. Runes on a weird evil jade. People speaking our language. Ring any bells?"
No. My knowledge of Kantas is incomplete and not up to date, which is why you're there. But if it is an entity of our Realms then that is quite interesting indeed. Keep watch and deal with it as appropriate. There may be something interesting here for me yet. Or don't. You are free after all.
Wil felt slighted at that. That slimebag already knew he was going to keep tabs, regardless of whether he was told. Besides, he was obligated ever since the revival.
One last thing, Frozendagger, I assume you don't wish to exchange your magical potency for darkvision anymore, or am I mistaken?
Finally, something Wil could answer.
"I'm fine with swinging blind as long as I hit as hard as I can."
But of course. Have it your way.
With that the voice faded from his mind and Wil let out a large breath, finally released from the tension that communicating with his patron directly brought.
"I hate that guy.".
