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February 21, 2001
Strange Revelations
The following was posted to various message boards by Ivy, Mistress of the Dark Tower:Strange Revelations
Ivy set the tome she'd been reading aside. Rubbing her tired eyes, she peered around the library. Sleath sat at a desk, studiously reading over one of the many books she had assigned to him to read. Shaking her head, she thought back on the past few days events.
She had received a mysterious letter. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked it over again.
Hello Dark Mistress,
You do not know who I am but you soon shall; I may be needing some assistance from you. I understand that you might be of assistance. I have a package I need to deliver somewhere and I was wondering if you could help.
I will pay you nicely for the storage.
Thank you for your time.
(insignia of a black tree)
She had replied with...
"I tend to like to know with whom I am doing business, before venturing on a deal. And should you like my assistance, you'll give me the information I request. Such as... the nature of the package and to whom it is being delivered. Otherwise, I am sure I would be ...glad to assist.
Lady Ivy
Mistress of the Dark Tower"
*stamped with a sigil of a black and red tower*
Of course, she had agreed. She had shrugged to herself. Why not accept? And she could always change her mind and do as she liked with whatever this package would be. Their folly for trusting her. She smirked.
Later that eve she heard a thud at the doors to the Dark Tower. Carefully openning the doors, her eyes settled on a large bloodstained sack. It was moving and making muffled sounds. Casting a minor spell, she lifted the sack and it's contents into the air and moved it into the back room. Carefully bolting the door and magically securing it, she used the same spell to untie the bag and reveal it's contents.
There lying on the floor before her was a badly beaten and bleeding Baron of Darkmor. Sleath. Ivy frowned deeply. This was not anything she wanted anything to do with; especially as she knew his wedding was to be this night. She had already prepared her crystal ball to watch the ceremony. Using a few other incantations, Ivy healed the Baron's wounds, unbound him and cleaned him up a bit. She allowed him to change out of his ragged torn clothing and into a soft black velvet robe.
She didn't even want to think of the following days. The removal of Sleath's hand. It's replacement. And the final death of the Pretender. And Sleath's request to become a student of the Tower.
That had baffled her the most, she thought he would want to be returned to Darkmor. To Mirabel. But instead he sought his first assignment as a "student of Darkness". She had told him to seek and become familiar with the works of the Library.
And so they sat. Him reading over the tomes, again and again. Saturating his mind with every word, absorbing the ages of knowledge held inside those books.
Ivy excused herself and went downstairs. Rummaging through a chest, she pulled out a small solid bag. Openning it she eyed the many vials within. Kray. Alton. Wraith. Kyra Shadowfare. Miriam. Hella. Sauron. Swift. Mrrshan. Opalescense. Rakhir. Mirabel. Sleath. The Pretender. Thus were the vials labeled. Pulling the one labelled Sleath from its place in the heavily padded bag, she held it up to the candle light.
The vial was brimming full and a double was in the slot beneath where this one had rested. She had gathered enough of his blood to experiment many times over. Securing the bag closed and putting it safely away, she climbed the stairs of the Tower, making her way to the roof.
There she prepared her small ritual and sat down in the center of the pentagram. Putting a drop of his blood on her tongue, she murmured the incantation that would show her what she sought. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep meditation.
King Joran of the elves of the Yew Forests. His bride, Isabella - Princess of... an elven people who dwelled beneath the Earth, yet not Drow. Sleath was their son. Joran's death. Sleath's survival, his heritage hidden with a glamour. Isabella's disappearance. Isabella's reappearance in Britain, under a similar glamour that hid her son's true nature. She had a daughter to a blacksmith. Isabella's eventual passing.
The visions came to her mind, with names, dates, and other details so strong her mind swam. She could only grasp fragments, but those fragments were enough. Forcing the spell to end, she felt herself falling backward upon the cold floor. Opening her eyes, the stars sparkled above her. A slow malevolent smile spread across her lips.
Posted by Keith at February 21, 2001 10:46 AM