Here's his 'role', back before roles existed. <br> <br>Goodbye (long-ish or long depending on your point of view): <br> <br> <br>[ Follow Ups ] [ Post Followup ] [ Dioxide's CForum Character Board ] <br>Posted by Axzwerlich on May 27, 2000 at 13:42:37: <br> <br>WARNING: There are some things towards the end of this story that I have taken a bit of liberty with, the first being that I did not ask to compete in the rites against Minalcar having been asked to step down in the rites just before. The second, the ending of this story never occurred except in my imagination. Understand if there are spelling errors, this is just something I whipped up. Otherwise, enjoy, if it's possible... <br> <br>__________________________________________________________________________________________ <br> <br>He felt as if he were floating. There were brief periods of pain and for some reason he could not see out of his good eye. He thought something might be covering it but his arms didn't seem to want to work enough to move whatever it was. He felt cold but it was a distant thing, as if from a memory. He heard the crunch of boots in what sounded like snow near him but that also was a distant thing. Words were said but he heard none of them clearly. Nothing smelled right. He made out a chuckle and then... <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>His father was watching him as he stalked the birds outside their small home. His father would laugh when he pounced and came up with nothing to show but grass. It was not mocking or spiteful but simply happy laughter. His father came to him and gathered him up from where he sat on the ground looking up at the birds as they flew away. "You will not be a great hunter, I think," his father said, tickling him as he carried him to the house, the cubs laughter ringing out as he did. "You will be skilled in tracking but the hunting, perhaps you should leave that to others." His father joined him in his laughter as they entered the house, the words carrying no sting, a simple statement of fact. The cub could smell his mother's cooking. No, he would not be a great hunter... <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He could feel himself being lifted, the voices around him worried and concerned, but still he could not make out their words. He thought he heard some of the young ones he knew and had trained but there was something to their voices that should have made his hackles raise. He could not see but the pain was lessening. At least he was no longer cold. He heard the gravelly voice of the Village's guardian but again, he could not make out the words. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>"All are welcome here, stranger," his father said to the tall man garbed in robes. The cub thought the stranger smelled of herbs and old paper but he said nothing, standing beside his father's leg, looking up at the two of them. "Come, share our fire. We will eat and speak of past hunts." His father's scent had changed. He seemed... worried. No, his father never worried, even when his hunting had brought nothing for the cookpot. His father was not the type to worry. But, still... his scent was changed. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He could feel the warmth of a fire nearby, could hear the crackling of the flames. There were no more than two or three voices now and he was finally beginning to understand some of what was being said. <br> <br>"...water, bandages, some of the thread old Grime keeps for..." <br> <br>"...color is not good. How long was he out there?" <br> <br>"...don't know... was a tiger nearby, maybe one of the mages... maybe a trap..." <br> <br>"...Defenders, and take him to the Shrine to let the healer..." <br> <br>"...may be too late..." <br> <br>He drifted in and out, the bits he heard made no sense so he ignored them. Easier to simply lie here near the fire. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>"He meant no disrespect, sir, he is a cub and cubs are curious," his father said firmly, standing before the cub. He had never seen his father angry before and while he scent proved he was, there was an underlying scent, one the cub had never smelled from his father before. It smelled of running, hiding, the scent of prey that knew it was cornered. <br> <br>The stranger stood before them, shaking in anger, holding his saddlebags, the contents of them strewn across the floor. Scrolls, strange herbs, bottles filled with odd liquids. The man said nothing further, still furious at finding his things in such a state. He had yelled at the cub and struck him before his father had came and pulled the cub behind him. His mother had begun to growl low in her throat, her foreclaws fully extended, the soft fur on the back of her neck standing straight up. The mage spoke two words, odd words, and suddenly there was flames burning everything. The house, his mother, his father, him. <br> <br>The man stalked from the house without ever looking back. The cub mewled softly, pain coursing through him as the flames burned and singed his fur. The smell of his mother and father were gone. The laughter that so often filled their house replaced by the sound of its slow destruction. He nuzzled the burnt hand of his father, seeking his touch to comfort him and ease his pain. His father did not move. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>"...done all I can. He is old for one of his kind. His spirit is strong but his body has been through too many fights like this." <br> <br>"There must be something..." <br> <br>"Nothing. Take him to his hut and let him sleep." <br> <br>A fine idea, he thought. With blankets and a fire to warm him. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>The healer smiled comfortingly but he could smell her concern. It was the same scent as when his mother had found him after he had fallen from the tree and broke his arm. Something else was wrong. The world was flat in his vision, lacking depth. He brushed his fingers slowly across his right eye to find a bandage there. The human female caught his hand before he could remove the bandage and asked something in the common tongue. <br> <br>"Is there any pain?" <br> <br>He began to answer in the tongue of his people but she shook her head as he began. He could smell her confusion. His father had taught him the human tongue and so he used it now. <br> <br>"I do not hurrrt." <br> <br>His tongue rebelled at the use of the language. Too many clipped sounds, not like the fluid, almost song-like tongue of his people. She smiled at him again and spoke to someone he could not see, "He will recover but his eye... If he had been brought sooner, perhaps something could have been done. Your people have never healed well from wounds caused by fire." <br> <br>He moved his head to see who she spoke to but a firm hand caught his head and gently stroked the fur, soothing him. He thought for a moment that his father was there. <br> <br>"You have done what you could, lady healer and for that I thank you. Take this as payment, a small sum for the gift of my nephew's life." The words were spoken harshly, almost as if the speaker were unused to giving thanks. He recognized his uncle's voice. His father had rarely allowed his uncle to stay with them. They had argued when he did, his uncle often coming as close to yelling as he ever did when they spoke of 'magic'. The cub had learned his uncle was like the adventurers he often heard of from the other children of the village. <br> <br>There was the sound of gold coins inside leather for a moment and then, the woman's footsteps as she left. His uncle's smiling face appeared in his vision as he continued to stroke the fur of the cub's head. <br> <br>"Uncle, where is father and mother?" <br> <br>The smile disappeared from his uncle's face. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>"...still not sure what happened, Lord, but he..." <br> <br>"Enough. Leave and let him rest. I will take the watch." <br> <br>Yes... rest. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>His uncle swept his legs out from underneath him with a well aimed kick as they sparred. He landed hard on his backside and glared up at his uncle, anger shining in his remaining eye. <br> <br>"Balance, lad, balance. Keep your legs underneath you and you'll stay alive." <br> <br>He spat to clear his mouth of dust. It was dry and hot and he did not feel like sparring anymore but he got up and continued. If he was ever to avenge his parents' deaths, he must learn the ways of warfare. <br> <br>No longer a cub, he was shorter than his uncle. The older felar didn't seem to think he would get any taller. Where he was short, though, he was also compact. Muscles rippled beneath his fur as he rose smoothly, his sharpened foreclaws flexing for a moment as he picked up his practice blade. He moved the blade to a guard position and while the anger was not gone, he did not act on it as he had done when he had first begun sparring with his uncle. <br> <br>His uncle nodded in satisfaction as he approached, "Control. Good. Learn that as well and you will stay alive." <br> <br>There was no more time for words as his uncle pressed the attack. The younger felar was determined to keep his feet beneath him this time. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>"...won't make it through the night. I told the others I have done I all I could and I tell you the same. Leave him in his hut. At least there he is comfortable." <br> <br>Growling reached his ears. Not that of another felar like himself but familiar, nonetheless. <br> <br>"Yer worthless, priest," the sound of someone spitting, "Worse than worthless." <br> <br>"If *you* can do nothing, Lord, what do you expect of me?" <br> <br>"Eh, yer still worthless!" <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He buried the sword with his uncle. He thought the old felar would want that, to have his blade with him when he awoke in the realm of the dead. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he thought of his uncle facing down the ferryman, blade before him and demanding that his coins remain with him. <br> <br>He looked to the north and west, to the horizon and what lay beyond this small village. Quietly gathering his things, he walked into the night, never looking back. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>The guild was nothing like what his uncle had described, small and quiet from the outside, odd markings above and to each side of the door. His nose twitched and he had the scent of a guard nearby. He stopped suddenly and pulled the small carved wooden symbol from his belt pouch, holding it up and turning his entire body slowly. He did not know where the man was but he did not want to be slain for approaching without invitation. <br> <br>A movement in the shadows to his left, the slight whisper of steel being sheathed, and then a whisper, "Pass, One Eye, make yourself known to the guild of the assassins." <br> <br>He stepped through the door as it opened, nodding in the guard's direction. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He looked down at the dwarf, smiling quietly. The dwarf panted and held his side as if it pained him. <br> <br>"Light, ye run fast, cub," the dwarf said raggedly, still trying to catch his breath. <br> <br>He stiffened at the word 'cub', but made no mention of it as he replied to the dwarf, "You said to Tarrr Valon, to Galadon, and back to herrre as fast as I could, Thrrrorrr. I cannot help it if your legs are shorrrterrr than a gnome's." <br> <br>The dwarf glared up at him quietly, still breathing heavy, before barking a laugh. "Ye got spirit, cub, an' that'll serve ye sure'n as any blade! What's yer name, cub?" <br> <br>He thought on it. He had nearly forgotten it, it had been so long since another had said it. But he was no longer a cub now. He needed an adult name. He hoped his uncle would not mind him using his. After all, he didn't need it anymore. <br> <br>"My name is Axzwerlich." <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>Thror and Daerkshyn stood to each side of him. All three of them bled from various wounds. He could hear the Imperials and the Tower mages making ready to attack again. His grin had long since become wild, his good eye filled with determination and hatred. He glanced to the felar at his side and chuckled, "We keep this up, Daerrrkshyn, and you'll see herrr sooner than you had hoped." <br> <br>Daerkshyn bared his canines in a feral smile, "There will be enough to announce me to her, brother, before I am there myself." <br> <br>"Shut yer mouths an' stand ready," Thror growled at them after the confusion over what they spoke of passed. There was a wild smile on his face as well and he laughed as he poked the Destructor, guardian of the Shrine, eternal and nameless. "We're ready fer another round! How ye holdin' up?" <br> <br>The Destructor glared at Thror and the three laughed. They laughed still when the horde rushed the shrine. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He sat across from Thror, his bones aching, old wounds complaining. Thror seemed to be beyond pain, beyond feeling, now. But he had come to speak with him and had yet to threaten him with his hammers. <br> <br>"Ye need t' show th' younger lads how t' fight. Yer all that remains of them that stood with me." <br> <br>Axzwerlich nodded wearily. He was tired but he would stand firm. "Verrry well, Thrrrorrr. I will not give up on life." <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He growled as the mages pressed forward. He pressed back at them, throwing the dust from his pouch at all he could reach. Some fell back, eyes watering and burning, but more pushed in to fill the empty spaces. He nimbly side-stepped spells of destruction, slipping beyond their reach only to dash back in with reckless abandonment. He watched the way the mages fought and would slip in suddenly to strike at a weak spot he had noted, causing many to cry out in pain. Others stood beside him but too many had already fallen. <br> <br>He looked past the mages for a moment, his concentration broken for an instant as reinforcements arrived. He was knocked senseless by the claws of a lion/mage for his lapse, but even as he fell, he was laughing. The mages would fall. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He could hear prayers of some sort, a rough voice saying them. He was warm, content, but something was wrong. He tried to sit up but the prayers stopped and he was gently, but firmly, pressed back down. There was something odd to the feel of what had pressed him back. Not hands, but... <br> <br>"Thrrrorrr?" His voice was hoarse and it hurt to speak. It seemed for a moment that his breath would not come to him as he needed it. <br> <br>"Lie still, lad. Ye been hurt worse than ever this time." <br> <br>"I'll heal, dwarrrf," he coughed as he tried to make light and tasted the blood at the back of his throat. He had been hiding it from the others for some time now but as he felt a moist cloth wipe his mouth, he knew it was hidden no longer. He still could not see. <br> <br>"Thrrrorrr, get this bandage off my head so I can see you?" <br> <br>There was a scent of rage for a moment, replaced by... sorrow? "There's no bandage, lad. Ye lost yer other eye." <br> <br>He lay completely still for a moment... then began laughing, his breath coming in gasps. So many had threatened to take his remaining eye. And now it was gone, to a tower mage of all people. None of them had ever threatened his remaining eye. Only rogue warriors and Imperials. <br> <br>The scent of concern rolled off of Thror. He knew the dwarf thought him mad, but he could not catch his breath long enough to tell him he was not. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>Minalcar stood before him, the taint of his evil ways rolling off of him in waves... and yet the warrior still asked what *he* thought of the pact with the Imperials. He was not used to this. This... respect the younger ones showed him. He had disliked Minalcar when he had first met him, thought him bloodthirsty and careless, but, against his better judgement, he had grown fond of the giant. Even with the evil, here stood before him a brave man, a courageous man, a leader. And he asked his opinion. <br> <br>"I will chafe underrr this pact, Minalcarrr, but you arrre Leaderrr and I will do as you ask," he responded quietly. How long had it been since he had competed in the rites against Nesam. He had been gently turned away from the last rites, the rites that saw this giant as Leader. He was old, he knew it as others did, but the fight sang in his blood as it had not done in some time. He was... alive, regardless of how his body betrayed him in recent months. <br> <br>Minalcar nodded hesitantly. He knew the warrior needed more, "I see yourrr rrreasoning in this, Leaderrr. It will make the Village strrrong to warrr only with the mages." The giant nodded again, this time smiling. Why his approval meant anything to anyone puzzled him for a moment, until he remembered how he had felt when the elder Villagers had agreed with him. Now it made sense. <br> <br>FLASH <br> <br>He coughed, his breath coming to him in gasps. <br> <br>"Fatherrr, it hurrrts." <br> <br>A sigh. Odd, his father never sighed. A rustling of someone moving nearer. <br> <br>"Sleep, boy. Th' pain will pass. Yer friends are waiting fer ya." <br> <br>He could almost see them. Daerkshyn, his quick wit and ready smile. Gough, with her blond hair shining in the sunlight. Ahmie and Kaerk stood motioning him to the shadows, mischief in both their smiles, while Rybiskus stood to the side, laughing. Others, so many, calling and gesturing. One step and he could join them. <br> <br>"But the Warrr, fatherrr... I must fight... Who will stand if I do not?" <br> <br>"Sleep, boy. Ye've earned it." <br> <br>He closed his eyes, his breath coming to him easier though it slowed. His heart slowed as well, as if fearing its noise would disturb his sleep. He could hear a voice, chanting softly, and as he began to stalk the birds that had lighted in front of their house, both eyes open and seeing, he did not understand why that voice would be filled with sorrow.