Post by Dmitri on Jul 29, 2011 20:23:09 GMT -5
OK, so here goes. If I missed something you wanted me to type out, lemme know. If you have questions, let me know - in or out of character. I think that everything is included here that I discussed a little on Friday night. If some of it is slightly altered, that is intentional - I was missing some of my notes that night. If something major is different, then PM me and I will clarify or retcon as necessary.
* * * * * *
Cedric looks bruised and battered, his clothing torn and damaged from his fight with Paden. After he regains consciousness in the barrow, his eyes seem to lose a bit of their fire and life. When he sees the greyness of the world outside the barrow, he lets out an audible groan. You begin to question him, and finally he responds. After ascertaining that you are originally from Alba and not Albion, he offers you Alba to rule if you release him. When you refuse, he sinks back, and offers the following narrative and explanation.
"It seems that you have discovered my secret. I won't bother asking about your Alba - it seems that you have already found that it is gone. Like my Alba... oh Alba, lost to me. Did you cry when you returned? When you found that you had lost your home, that everything was wrong? Was it drastic for you, or subtle? For me, it was drastic. But it was also the little things... half a lifetime spent in a world, then you leave, and when you come back, everything is different in so many ways. It's the little ways that matter, isn't it? Nothing was as it ought to have been, everything was just a little bit wrong. I had much to do, even slaying myself... and I could not return to Albion. For all my art... but you know nothing of me, do you? Hear then my story, wanderers. Hear my tale, and weep for yourselves - our fates are the same, I suspect.
"From Alba I hailed, though I doubt it was like the Alba which you knew. Oh, Alba... how I miss you, as I first knew you. Ours was a land of many tribes, ruled by men of renown, men of wisdom... though all men are as dust, and must know evil, too. The last born son of a family of three sons... the weakest in a family of the strong. I saw my brothers fall as I grew, one in war and in one adventure at sea. I believed that my intelligence would secure me the leadership of the tribe when my father stepped down - not to mention that my brothers had all perished, leaving me as my father's heir - but I was passed over, for a man of small mind and large purse. You cry for the Derwyddi, but why? They are corrupt liars, all - young Don bought the druid who named him chief, though he was a lackwit and unsubtle. Thus I left our village.
"I studied with the Morgrave, a hermit of the wild who wished to harness the Old Powers, those which Man had forsworn. We delved deep, the Morgrave and his acolytes, in secret, for the Learned Brotherhood had no love for our study, and believed that we tampered in things best left alone. We found mysteries lost for aeons, since the Verdanun, and I payed for it... oh how I have payed and payed and payed. But for every sacrifice, their is power - and the will to power is all that matters. Life... nothing is more important than life and the will to execute it. I tell you, the meek are meat for the strong, and I was ever so strong.
"With our research, I came to understand that our world was not the only one. We discovered that we were seperated by a gulf, yet connected by the fabric of reality so powerfully that we were nearly intertwined. At one time this had not been so, and all had been one... all the worlds, all possible worlds, were one. But that ended in the darkest and deepest past, I know not how - but I determined to explore this Otherworld, to see it for myself. I studied for nearly 10 years to find the spell... to find the way to push through the fabric of the worlds, to tear through to the other side. I finally succeeded... only to find that there was no way back.
"My push through had left me exhausted and drained, and I spent many weeks struggling to survive in the forests of Albion. It was the Season of Sun, and I slept under the piercingly bright stars of Albion, under the green so deep that you had to wonder if it was truly green. I eventually found my way to a settlement, a small village without a name in Llogres. They took me in, and taught me their speech. Eventually they made me one of them, though I was of little use to the village. My magic was lost to me, in large part - my former power was only available in limited amounts. It seemed that the magic of Alba could not operate the same way in Albion. I came to realize that it was because of the nature of my magic - it was alien to the Albion. Yet I persisted, and I conquered."
You take note, as Cedric continues to speak, his eyes take on a queer gleam, a fevered look. You wonder about his sanity, and you get the distinct impression that there is both more and less to this story than at first appearance. Cedric continues speaking, his pace quickening and his voice gradually growing higher and more intense.
"Though it took much, I broke through again. I mastered the elements themselves, though it cost me everything and more... all of my power, for a new power. I transformed myself, and became more than a man. You think that you have beaten me? You, a ragtag group of shades? You may have felt the quickening of Albion's air, but you have not tasted the real power that resides at the foundation of the worlds." He strips off a glove, on his right hand, and you see his palm is bleeding. His wound seems old, yet still it seeps, blood that reeks of pus and decay. The design is familiar yet not - it takes a moment to realize that it is a corruption of the Mor Cyclyc, the World Knot. Instead of being an unbroken sequence, a single line that loops upon itself, Cedric's design is a broken tangle of fragments, which overlap in confusion and chaos. It is the Knot's opposite. Cedric grows quiet for a moment, then continues in a lower voice.
"My return to Alba was jarring. Gray dust, choking ash... I had stopped counting the days and nights, the years... did you realize yet? Your time... the days are longer by years in Albion. You said that you had jumped back and forth quite a bit... maybe you did not experience it the way I did. A thousand years I stayed there, I believe, though in the end it is meaningless. I returned with power - for who in the shadowlands could stand against one who could master that which casts the shadow? I conquered. I bent the world to my will - but what of it? The world is a shadow... and what does the shadow matter when compared to the substance? I had seen. I had felt. I had been... you have felt the pull. I know that you have - it is pointless to deny it.
"I unified the tribes under my banner - and a simple thing it was, too... I realized that they were ready to follow me. It would take me longer to figure out the why of it, though. The battles were quick and short, and the lands where united beneath my banner - and all the while I had been in Albion. I returned to shadow to find myself already here... and a king. I myself had cast a shadow in the shadowlands - and a huge one, at that. I was confused, and it was then that I realized that I could not break the worlds again in the way I had before - I abandoned my power in Albion to gain the greater. Have you understood? Have you seen? And more importantly, do you comprehend? I doubt it... I greatly doubt it." Cedric smiles his cat-like smile. "So... I had conquered Alba without even lifting a finger. I determined to conquer Albion as well." The madness in Cedric's eyes is clear now, and his tempo quickens, as his hands begin to move in a nervous tick.
"It took a long time to determine how to return to Albion, and the toll was terrible, but the sacrifice was worth it. Blood and fire will do it everytime, though... yet when I returned, so much time had passed - hundreds of years. All I knew were gone, and I was a stranger again - though this time at least I could speak the language. I travelled again - I crossed the Sea of Fear, I climbed the Unhallowed Hill, I crossed the Mountains of Madness through the Pass of Pain, to stand on the Wyrm's Fang... and returned with my fellows, my servants. Another journey... back to Logres this time, and another name, and another face. At first a seeming, but later, when Cedric's blood watered the soil, a reality... and Nall, taken and drained, held to power the kingmaker. After my trials, the war was easy. And the warmachines... ah, the warmachines. Would that I would have come up with such wonderous ideas. The ironcaster, I felt that they were the pinnacle of battlecraft... but the warforged were a genius stroke. Would that it were mine... but ah, I used them and well."
Cedric looks around, and grows silent. His eyes are fever-bright, and he begins to mutter to himself, before looking back at you.
"You think that you have won, do you not? Fools. Meldron the Golden is as good as dead - if not already dead by now. My companions will see to that if they haven't already. His kingdom will fall, and the Black Flame will sweep o'er all. Our Lord will reign - there will be no King, as their is no Singer. The wolves are hungry and at the door... and they serve the Master well. You may have ousted me from the throne of Logres, but Albion is still destined to fall. The war with Prydain served its purpose. All will be remade, and with Albion's rebirth so will all worlds be reborn, in the image I chose for them. Now comes the night and my power..." Cedric breaks off, chuckling to himself, lost in his own mind for the moment.
* * * * * *
Cedric looks bruised and battered, his clothing torn and damaged from his fight with Paden. After he regains consciousness in the barrow, his eyes seem to lose a bit of their fire and life. When he sees the greyness of the world outside the barrow, he lets out an audible groan. You begin to question him, and finally he responds. After ascertaining that you are originally from Alba and not Albion, he offers you Alba to rule if you release him. When you refuse, he sinks back, and offers the following narrative and explanation.
"It seems that you have discovered my secret. I won't bother asking about your Alba - it seems that you have already found that it is gone. Like my Alba... oh Alba, lost to me. Did you cry when you returned? When you found that you had lost your home, that everything was wrong? Was it drastic for you, or subtle? For me, it was drastic. But it was also the little things... half a lifetime spent in a world, then you leave, and when you come back, everything is different in so many ways. It's the little ways that matter, isn't it? Nothing was as it ought to have been, everything was just a little bit wrong. I had much to do, even slaying myself... and I could not return to Albion. For all my art... but you know nothing of me, do you? Hear then my story, wanderers. Hear my tale, and weep for yourselves - our fates are the same, I suspect.
"From Alba I hailed, though I doubt it was like the Alba which you knew. Oh, Alba... how I miss you, as I first knew you. Ours was a land of many tribes, ruled by men of renown, men of wisdom... though all men are as dust, and must know evil, too. The last born son of a family of three sons... the weakest in a family of the strong. I saw my brothers fall as I grew, one in war and in one adventure at sea. I believed that my intelligence would secure me the leadership of the tribe when my father stepped down - not to mention that my brothers had all perished, leaving me as my father's heir - but I was passed over, for a man of small mind and large purse. You cry for the Derwyddi, but why? They are corrupt liars, all - young Don bought the druid who named him chief, though he was a lackwit and unsubtle. Thus I left our village.
"I studied with the Morgrave, a hermit of the wild who wished to harness the Old Powers, those which Man had forsworn. We delved deep, the Morgrave and his acolytes, in secret, for the Learned Brotherhood had no love for our study, and believed that we tampered in things best left alone. We found mysteries lost for aeons, since the Verdanun, and I payed for it... oh how I have payed and payed and payed. But for every sacrifice, their is power - and the will to power is all that matters. Life... nothing is more important than life and the will to execute it. I tell you, the meek are meat for the strong, and I was ever so strong.
"With our research, I came to understand that our world was not the only one. We discovered that we were seperated by a gulf, yet connected by the fabric of reality so powerfully that we were nearly intertwined. At one time this had not been so, and all had been one... all the worlds, all possible worlds, were one. But that ended in the darkest and deepest past, I know not how - but I determined to explore this Otherworld, to see it for myself. I studied for nearly 10 years to find the spell... to find the way to push through the fabric of the worlds, to tear through to the other side. I finally succeeded... only to find that there was no way back.
"My push through had left me exhausted and drained, and I spent many weeks struggling to survive in the forests of Albion. It was the Season of Sun, and I slept under the piercingly bright stars of Albion, under the green so deep that you had to wonder if it was truly green. I eventually found my way to a settlement, a small village without a name in Llogres. They took me in, and taught me their speech. Eventually they made me one of them, though I was of little use to the village. My magic was lost to me, in large part - my former power was only available in limited amounts. It seemed that the magic of Alba could not operate the same way in Albion. I came to realize that it was because of the nature of my magic - it was alien to the Albion. Yet I persisted, and I conquered."
You take note, as Cedric continues to speak, his eyes take on a queer gleam, a fevered look. You wonder about his sanity, and you get the distinct impression that there is both more and less to this story than at first appearance. Cedric continues speaking, his pace quickening and his voice gradually growing higher and more intense.
"Though it took much, I broke through again. I mastered the elements themselves, though it cost me everything and more... all of my power, for a new power. I transformed myself, and became more than a man. You think that you have beaten me? You, a ragtag group of shades? You may have felt the quickening of Albion's air, but you have not tasted the real power that resides at the foundation of the worlds." He strips off a glove, on his right hand, and you see his palm is bleeding. His wound seems old, yet still it seeps, blood that reeks of pus and decay. The design is familiar yet not - it takes a moment to realize that it is a corruption of the Mor Cyclyc, the World Knot. Instead of being an unbroken sequence, a single line that loops upon itself, Cedric's design is a broken tangle of fragments, which overlap in confusion and chaos. It is the Knot's opposite. Cedric grows quiet for a moment, then continues in a lower voice.
"My return to Alba was jarring. Gray dust, choking ash... I had stopped counting the days and nights, the years... did you realize yet? Your time... the days are longer by years in Albion. You said that you had jumped back and forth quite a bit... maybe you did not experience it the way I did. A thousand years I stayed there, I believe, though in the end it is meaningless. I returned with power - for who in the shadowlands could stand against one who could master that which casts the shadow? I conquered. I bent the world to my will - but what of it? The world is a shadow... and what does the shadow matter when compared to the substance? I had seen. I had felt. I had been... you have felt the pull. I know that you have - it is pointless to deny it.
"I unified the tribes under my banner - and a simple thing it was, too... I realized that they were ready to follow me. It would take me longer to figure out the why of it, though. The battles were quick and short, and the lands where united beneath my banner - and all the while I had been in Albion. I returned to shadow to find myself already here... and a king. I myself had cast a shadow in the shadowlands - and a huge one, at that. I was confused, and it was then that I realized that I could not break the worlds again in the way I had before - I abandoned my power in Albion to gain the greater. Have you understood? Have you seen? And more importantly, do you comprehend? I doubt it... I greatly doubt it." Cedric smiles his cat-like smile. "So... I had conquered Alba without even lifting a finger. I determined to conquer Albion as well." The madness in Cedric's eyes is clear now, and his tempo quickens, as his hands begin to move in a nervous tick.
"It took a long time to determine how to return to Albion, and the toll was terrible, but the sacrifice was worth it. Blood and fire will do it everytime, though... yet when I returned, so much time had passed - hundreds of years. All I knew were gone, and I was a stranger again - though this time at least I could speak the language. I travelled again - I crossed the Sea of Fear, I climbed the Unhallowed Hill, I crossed the Mountains of Madness through the Pass of Pain, to stand on the Wyrm's Fang... and returned with my fellows, my servants. Another journey... back to Logres this time, and another name, and another face. At first a seeming, but later, when Cedric's blood watered the soil, a reality... and Nall, taken and drained, held to power the kingmaker. After my trials, the war was easy. And the warmachines... ah, the warmachines. Would that I would have come up with such wonderous ideas. The ironcaster, I felt that they were the pinnacle of battlecraft... but the warforged were a genius stroke. Would that it were mine... but ah, I used them and well."
Cedric looks around, and grows silent. His eyes are fever-bright, and he begins to mutter to himself, before looking back at you.
"You think that you have won, do you not? Fools. Meldron the Golden is as good as dead - if not already dead by now. My companions will see to that if they haven't already. His kingdom will fall, and the Black Flame will sweep o'er all. Our Lord will reign - there will be no King, as their is no Singer. The wolves are hungry and at the door... and they serve the Master well. You may have ousted me from the throne of Logres, but Albion is still destined to fall. The war with Prydain served its purpose. All will be remade, and with Albion's rebirth so will all worlds be reborn, in the image I chose for them. Now comes the night and my power..." Cedric breaks off, chuckling to himself, lost in his own mind for the moment.