Hey, guess what? I'm finished with band camp! And as a result, I spent some time writing ^-^
After his initial fit of rage, Korin was after the shade once more. Naturally, Ocelot and Obelis followed swiftly, winding through the tall pines. The three of them had all but lost sight of the being, and were gaining ground. The shade rounded a bend, as did Korin, as did Ocelot, but Obelis stopped. Before him was a familiar scene, though he knew he'd never been to this place.
Obelis saw a clearing a mere fifteen feet across, but at its center was a pale white alter speckled with flecks of black. At its base was a series of rings acting as steps. He couldn't see over it, but he knew that it had the same bowl shape carved into its top. The only thing he didn't know if it was filled. He tried to call out to his new found companions, but couldn't manage a word before he ended up on the ground retching.
Luckily, it was enough to gain the wolves' notice. They both turned around to check on him, Korin the more reluctant one. Neither had ever seen such an altar before, and thus had no idea what was afflicting their friend. Distracted, neither of the wolves had seen where the shade went,but Obelis saw it pass over the shrine as he was falling. And since it led them here, he knew it was somehow attached to the Redimet. Clearly, he still had work to do.
"What's wrong, paladin?" Ocelot rushed to Obelis' aid and helped him to a standing position.
Obelis brushed him off, slightly annoyed. "Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that? I have a name you know." Obelis hated to come across so roughly, but he had to make certain that the kid stopped calling him 'paladin.' Paladins had honor already, they didn't need to search for it.
Korin, of course, wasn't too happy about someone talking to his little brother that way, but he figured he'd make an exception since Obelis was already striding purposefully toward the altar.
As he approached, Obelis felt his hand drawn unconsciously toward his dagger. He took it from his belt and threw it to the far edge of the clearing. He didn't want to end up murdering one of the wolves with it, that kris had tasted enough blood.
Obelis was only a step away from the altar, and he stopped. He wasn't even sure why he was about to do this, but he felt compelled to. He could see that there was a small bit of blood, sitting at the bottom of the bowl, fresh. It couldn't have been there any longer than they had.
Steeling himself, Obelis assumed the same position he had so many times before, kneeling with his head bowed, almost touching the cold stone. For a moment, everything around him went dark. He could no longer see the wolves, nor the trees, nor the ground. It seemed that the only things that existed were Obelis and the altar. They were simply suspended, and Obelis had lost all sense of time and direction.
His thoughts were consumed by thoughts of murder, unsatisfaction, and vengeance. If the thoughts alone weren't bad enough, each general idea had a memory to match. The most prominent: himself murdering King Turkin. Previously, he'd had no detailed recollection of the incident due his hypnosis, but seeing it now was like a knife being driven into his own heart.
He tried frantically to step down from the altar, but could manage nothing further than standing. Panicked and afraid for his sanity, he leapt into the darkness. The moment he left the altar, his senses returned, but the memories were burned into his mind. The scenes replayed over and over in his mind, and had the wolves not been there to rouse him, he'd surely have gone mad.
Obelis hobbled over to the altar once more, weak and confused. The crimson liquid that had touched the bowl was gone, with no trace to tell that it was ever there. Gradually, he collected himself. He asked himself why he kept being led to these altars, but could come up with no solution. But he had to know why. He couldn't stop now.
Obelis saw a clearing a mere fifteen feet across, but at its center was a pale white alter speckled with flecks of black. At its base was a series of rings acting as steps. He couldn't see over it, but he knew that it had the same bowl shape carved into its top. The only thing he didn't know if it was filled. He tried to call out to his new found companions, but couldn't manage a word before he ended up on the ground retching.
Luckily, it was enough to gain the wolves' notice. They both turned around to check on him, Korin the more reluctant one. Neither had ever seen such an altar before, and thus had no idea what was afflicting their friend. Distracted, neither of the wolves had seen where the shade went,but Obelis saw it pass over the shrine as he was falling. And since it led them here, he knew it was somehow attached to the Redimet. Clearly, he still had work to do.
"What's wrong, paladin?" Ocelot rushed to Obelis' aid and helped him to a standing position.
Obelis brushed him off, slightly annoyed. "Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that? I have a name you know." Obelis hated to come across so roughly, but he had to make certain that the kid stopped calling him 'paladin.' Paladins had honor already, they didn't need to search for it.
Korin, of course, wasn't too happy about someone talking to his little brother that way, but he figured he'd make an exception since Obelis was already striding purposefully toward the altar.
As he approached, Obelis felt his hand drawn unconsciously toward his dagger. He took it from his belt and threw it to the far edge of the clearing. He didn't want to end up murdering one of the wolves with it, that kris had tasted enough blood.
Obelis was only a step away from the altar, and he stopped. He wasn't even sure why he was about to do this, but he felt compelled to. He could see that there was a small bit of blood, sitting at the bottom of the bowl, fresh. It couldn't have been there any longer than they had.
Steeling himself, Obelis assumed the same position he had so many times before, kneeling with his head bowed, almost touching the cold stone. For a moment, everything around him went dark. He could no longer see the wolves, nor the trees, nor the ground. It seemed that the only things that existed were Obelis and the altar. They were simply suspended, and Obelis had lost all sense of time and direction.
His thoughts were consumed by thoughts of murder, unsatisfaction, and vengeance. If the thoughts alone weren't bad enough, each general idea had a memory to match. The most prominent: himself murdering King Turkin. Previously, he'd had no detailed recollection of the incident due his hypnosis, but seeing it now was like a knife being driven into his own heart.
He tried frantically to step down from the altar, but could manage nothing further than standing. Panicked and afraid for his sanity, he leapt into the darkness. The moment he left the altar, his senses returned, but the memories were burned into his mind. The scenes replayed over and over in his mind, and had the wolves not been there to rouse him, he'd surely have gone mad.
Obelis hobbled over to the altar once more, weak and confused. The crimson liquid that had touched the bowl was gone, with no trace to tell that it was ever there. Gradually, he collected himself. He asked himself why he kept being led to these altars, but could come up with no solution. But he had to know why. He couldn't stop now.