Resurrection

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Long ago i started a topic about paladins. It was origionally about rpg gaming but got into a real story by the end. Unfortuantly some idiot who thought he was funny came and ruined it. His name was Shura.
So i am going to start where we left off after shura had his moment of stupidity as you will see if you read this: http://www.sorcerers.net/ubb/Forum7/HTML/000619-3.html

So i am going to start friom the end of the last one. Warning; if some one else does a shura then the post will be wiped by whoever sees it first (wiped by editing).

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Sir Dargorn's huge frame turned towards the wall behind his council seat. Without the slightest strain he pushed back a massive solid stone wall panel to reveal a secret chamber.
Within this chamber stands a small desk and five chairs.
Dargorn beckons Lokken, Mathetais, Bedevere and seeing that his head knight is lying wounded on the floor he summons the rather worried looking Nobleman to follow too.

 

Nobleman pronounces in a poetic yet sad tone Oh dear oh dear, I have a bad feeling about this

 

OK, ok.
I won't post in this topic anymore if it bothers you so much.
Sheeeeesh

 

You have absolutely no sense of roleplaying that is why; At least in cyberspace. you have to be a godlike PC to get a rise? It should be us saying *sheeeeesh*

 

Huh? Since when is someone hear a godlike PC (aside from me of course ?

 

Suddenly the shadows in a corner of the room turns into a black mist wich begins to writhe as if alive. Then suddenly a hand emerges from the mist and it turns into a tall hooded figure, clad entirely in black.
The rooms becomes terribly cold as it moves towards you. With a chilling voice it whispers: " I am Shadow of the Divine Order!"

 

God-like or not, I thought Shura was a pretty good writer.

 

Bedevere trembles and turns to the Shadow. "Y-You lie, fiend!" he cries, " And with your vile lies you befoul the name of the divine order!" He fumbles at his neck for his holy symbol, a small carved wooden hand with an eye painted in the middle of the palm, which hangs on a chain. "Begone, foul shade! In the name of Helm I command thee..." Seeing his efforts are having no effect he tries a different tack, lifing his visor with a creak he leans forwards and says.... "Ni!"

 

"No! Sir Bedevere" shouts Dargorn in angered anxiety.
"The great Lord Monty of Python had many enemies and it would not be wise to use his sacred tactics on strangers".
Observing the desperate face of the young knight he lowers his tone.
"We know not the intent of this shadow and until we do, we treat it with respect, that is what a true Paladin of the order must do"

Sir Dargorn gently brushes Bedevere aside and strides towards the corner of the room where the shadow halts. His twisted armor, mutated by the mighty blade of Shura creaks so loudley that the entire room winces at his every step.
With his warm red blood still trickling from every slash in his mail, the great Knight of Helm seems to stagger under the weight of his own body and he is no longer the fomidible warrior he was just one hour previous. His voice, weakened with pain no longer shakes the floor and if the Shadow's intent is truely evil then it would not find this Human much of an obsticle.

"State your buissness in the hallowed halls of Helm shadow, and hurry for my patience wears thin of visitors".

 

"I came here to offer my assistance.
several of your comrades are mortally wounded, and I can help you."

 

The Nobleman looks surprised and worried as always. He stands, for a moment, completely paralized. Then he stands paralized for another moment.eventually He picks up his "guestbook" and asks Divine Please list your proper name, This place cant take more chaos

 

Mathetais kept his hand on his sword as he watched the exchange. A lot had happened since the disaster in Sir Dargorn's hall. He had new scars, physical and emotional . . . and did not carry them well.

"Divine Shadow . . . if you truly bring the healing of the gods then heal this."

Slowly he unbuckled his breastplate and let it drop to the ground with a clash. Pulling aside his tunic, the knight revealed two jagged scars bisecting his chest, one horizontal, one veriticle, intersecting over his sternum.

 

Bedevere fell back before Dargon, any word from a superior being as good as a direct order. He glowered distrustfully at the shadow, but stood silent out of respect for the more experienced paladins. Dargon's word on the "Ni" saying was ireffutable, he'd have to sacrifice a Norwegian Blue Parrot later on to make amends.

 

" As you wish" the shade whispers as it draws a dagger. Before anyone can react Mathetais lies bleeding on the floor.
Then he quickly grabbed the guestbook and scribled an odd rune, using Mathetais blood.
Then the shade leaned over him, and began to pour a thick white liquid over the wound and into his mouth.
" This should heal all damage...both to his body and mind. Arise knight."

 

Mathetais slowly rose to his feet and looked down at his chest in amazement. Where there had been raw skin and jagged scars, there was now a pure white cross emblazoned on his chest. The other scars on his body had also faded, leaving his stiff shoulder loose and his bad knee flexible.

Extending his senses he could detect no residue of evil in his body or in his soul. Indeed, the pain of difficult decisions and long battles, while not erased, was seen in better perspective. He felt as though the burden of leadership was eased off his weary shoulders.

"Sir Dargorn, despite this messenger's appearance this seems to be a healing from the gods of Good. I would recommend allowing him to minister to your wounds."

 

Dargorn flinches as he staggers through a turn. The pain obviously is unbearable even for a 28th level Inquistor. His twisted body writhes with agony at every step he takes. Little ground does he cover before he collapses on the hard slaten floor and raises his hand as if to guesture for aid from the strange creature.

 

The shade raises his dagger again and punches it into the heart of the inquisitor.
He then proceeds to feed him the odd white substance.
Mathetias: You suddenly realise something is horribly wrong. It is like your desires and emotions are gone, and your skin is turning white.

 

The Nobleman drops his Guestbook and panics out the door. Run to the temple of helm I will. To get help. Heeeeeeelp

 

Sir dargorn observes in horror as Mathetais' skin plaes and his soul drains. With a huge roar Sir Dargorn draws his sword from its resting place on his crippled back and with a scream of bitter anger he swipes with the most monsturous precision it even shocks the fiend who only just manages to dodge the assault.
He strikes and stikes again in such fitful rage that his body seems to forget it's mortal wounds. Strick after strike, blow follows blow. The shadow is hit too many times to count as the enourmous Inquisitor goes into a whirlwind of death.
The scream that eminates from the ,mouth of the shadow is terrible and shakes the walls like an earthquake of ferocious proportions.
Vapourising before his eyes, Sir Dargorn falls to his knees and closes his eyes, trying to shut out the silence which filled the stunned room.
Falling backwards and hitting the floor with great force. Dargorn takes what he thinks is his last breath.

 

Mathetais felt icy claws shredding him from the inside out and fell to his knees screaming. He could not see the Shadow as an infuriated Lord Dargon rained blows upon him.

Trying to cling to sanity despite the pain in his body and soul, Mathetais chanted a prayer. "Corellon Larethian, my hope and my Lord, assist me in my time of need. I call for vengeance against this foul treachery!"

For the paladin, time seemed to slow. The burning cross on his chest writhed and twisted on his skin, finally forming the shape of a crescent moon running from his left shoulder to his hip.

He could hear a tearing in the fabric of reality. Through a jagged whole in the air stepped a grim servant of Kiaransalee, the elven deity of vengeance and the undead. The lichen creature smelled of burnt flesh and had a strong aura of power about it. Its decaying elven features surveyed the scene, and then walked towards the fallen Dargon and the wounded Shadow.