Re: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 3: Castle Suterrea)
11-08-2011, 05:53 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.
Now if I were to continue to describe the images and terrors that The Darkness and the toxins channeled through Lillian's mind, there is a very good chance that many people would wish to remove this story from the shelves, and you yourself would have some difficulty in continuing to read it. I shall simply say that it is now time for us to drop all pretenses, and to say what the presence of so many monsters and descriptions and mandates of grandmasters have been foreshadowing: this is not a story with a happy ending. Lillian does not survive.
However, before you close this story in frustration at the author having spoiled what may have been the most important part to yourself, allow me to add another tidbit. In all of her life Lillian had never been as afraid and confused and abandoned as in this moment, but it was this moment as in most moments of great challenge, that defined exactly why such a small and frail girl was chosen for such a dangerous and enormous battle.
Among all of the images and fears and temptations The Darkness pushed unto Lillian (which we will not go into), there was in all of them a very common but difficult to see theme. For "darkness", that true void and emptiness which is the anathema of light and warmth and life, is a very different thing than The Darkness. For in order for "The Darkness" to be all that which it claimed, horrors and nightmares and fear, it would have to give up the very things that make it able to claim and claw and hunger. In essence, the very fact of its existence as a being, with individual thoughts and desires and character is a part of the light of life and existence. For true darkness is where nothing exists.
This was the first lie that Lillian saw.
Now when you are being barraged by a multitude of fears and horrors, it is very difficult to complete any sort of complex thoughts. It is quite impossible to rely on logic or emotions or drawn out memories. The thoughts are quickly shattered. However, small thoughts, simple thoughts, tiny thoughts of your own can often manage to bubble to the surface, complete before fear tears down your attention. It was such with the simple truths Lillian's father had passed on to her. From his daughter's young age the physician imbued in her a respect for life and appreciation for all things that exist.
Once, when Lillian was quite small, a tar-black wood snake had found its way into her room. Being a cold-blooded creature, the snake sought out the warmest spot where to curl up and digest its recently caught dinner. It was a very cold night and while the house was much warmer than the outside, it still was not quite to the snake's satisfaction. It was its seemingly good fortune then, when it flicked its tongue and sensed the air, that it saw a reasonably sized heater hiding itself underneath a series of blankets.
That heater was, of course, a tiny Lillian, having recently fallen asleep for the night. As with most children her age, she had a healthy fear of snakes, and a very healthy fear of strange black things slithering up her leg as she slept. She awoke, saw her bedfellow, and cried out in what was (at that point) the most terrified she had ever been.
Naturally her father, who was still awake at the time, rushed into the room and, seeing the snake curled and hissing at the kicking and crying child, picked it up out of the bed, while sustaining no small number of bites, and left the room with it in a hurry.
Lillian wondered and worried for some time what had happened to her father. Had the snake eaten him? Perhaps he was wounded and needed help? Oh but what match was such a small girl for such a evil and terrifying snake? She spent several minutes rocking on her bed, scared for her father and hating the wretched snake before finally, her parent returned one arm slightly bandaged.
"Lillian, are you alright?" he asked her in his caring tone.
Lillian could not respond. So relieved was she at her father's safe return that she flew at him in a ball of tears, all of her worries and reliefs for her father and curses for the snake bubbling out in a mishmash of sobs.
Her father comforted her, rocked her gently and assured her that all would be fine. She begged him to not send her back to bed. He smiled and asked if she would like to stay up with him for just a bit longer which she gladly agreed to.
He picked her up with his non-bandaged arm, in that way he could do much more frequently before she grew too big, and he carried her over to his study.
"Would you like to meet someone?" He asked her.
She nodded.
"Now you, didn't have a very good introduction but I thought maybe you would like to see..." he trailed off and pointed over towards the fireplace. There, in a wide bottom jar, lied the small black snake, asleep and as content as could be next to the warmth of the fireplace. Lillian looked at her father concerned but curious, and her father explained how the snake was just looking for a warm place to stay, and how no it was not poisonous, and how in many ways it was very useful for catching mice, and how he planned to find a nice place outside and away from people to let it go in the morning.
Now that was not the only time Lillian's father refused to kill a creature and instead treated it as a houseguest, but it was the time that stood out in Lillian's mind the most. It was the time when looking back she could recall her father's words that "nothing that exists is truly evil" and it was the core of that truth that bubbled to the surface in Lillian's mind and revealed the first lie of The Darkness.
I AM DEATH. I AM FEAR. I AM NIGHTMARES COME TO CLAIM YOU.
Now were Lillian left to herself she never would have the chance to realize the second lie. She would just know that the Darkness could not be exactly what it claimed to be, but that alone would not prevent the terrors from breaking their way into her fragile mind.
It was here that Lillian owed her greatest debt of gratitude to the Viridiofloran, Reudic Otsaceae. Had Reudic not stolen the bracelet and charged towards Lillian, the others would not have followed as quickly as they did, and the ritual which the sister of the darkness wanted to take place would have completed without interruption. Now Reudic, still ready to choke and break the small girl wrapped among his vines found to his extreme frustration that the shapeshifting darkness refused to allow him his pleasure. Where his tendrils constricted, The Darkness pushed back. Where he sought to snap the child, The Darkness refused him passage. The realization Reudic came to was infuriating.
The Darkness, even this evil force which claims to be death and destruction and all evil, even that was trying to preserve the life of the young girl! No, Reudic would not allow this. The one thing he desired, the one goal he had tried to accomplish to prove and avenge everything about himself was being thwarted not just by his former comrades but by this supposedly malevolent being? Unthinkable. Unbearable. In a fit of rage Reudic sought to break The Darkness from Lillian. He forced his toxins into the sister and hurled Lillian as far as he could manage.
This small action broke the flood of terrors swarming in Lillian's mind. Like a diver gasping for air in a storm, her thoughts broke into a world of clarity, just before the waves drug her underneath again. It was enough. In that small bit of time, Lillian, reeling from all the fears and horrors, knowing almost instinctively that this being was lying to her, and feeling the ferocity with which it sought to get her back, she knew the truth.
It needs me.
That single thought managed to escape before The Darkness took hold once more. However, in that thought the idea that The Darkness was going to consume her, to claim her, vanished. She was not simply a victim of this malevolent being, it needed her for something. Maybe to escape this castle or to continue existing or from loneliness, she could not tell nor bring herself to think through such things. The very idea, alone, the knowledge of the second lie, that the creature was not a darkness independent of all others, that in actuality it very much desired and needed Lillian for whatever reason, gave the small girl the determination to struggle and fight against it.
It would have been a very futile fight had it not been that Reudic had, albeit unintentionally, tossed Lillian within arm's reach of the brightly glowing point bracelet. As Lillian struggled, both physically and mentally, her arms flew and her legs kicked and she screamed (though now out of determination, and no longer terror), the smallest part of her finger brushed against the edge of the bracelet.
The spell was broken.
As Lloyd had beseeched them earlier, all it took was a single touch from the target to undo the spell placed on The Spirit. It had found its charge and was no longer bound by magic to light the way.
It was then that another battle took place, one which revealed the third and most important lie The Darkness preached to Lillian. She had never been abandoned.
A battle in the realm of spirits is not entirely different than a battle on the physical plane. One could easily imagine The Spirit, free from its shackles, standing sword in hand before the looming dragon of The Darkness. The Spirit's twirled its blade, engraved with words of compassion for the girl. The Darkness breathed vows of fire and curses. One could picture the Spirit, far smaller than the hulking beast, but with a determination that far surpassed the cowardice inherent in the foul-hearted creature. The Spirit would charge, shouting into the fray, dodging blasts of flame summoned by The Darkness. With sword in hand The Spirit would slash at the nearest part of the beast, blade deflecting off the armor-like scales. A claw would swing down and a spiked tail would whip back narrowly missing the caretaker.
The Spirit would look, eyes darting about, searching for a spot of weakness. As the beast shot heated blast after heated blast, The Spirit would see in the creature's neck a spot unprotected by steel plated scales. While dodging, the sword would be sheathed, and the bow removed. The Spirit would draw an arrow - it only had one - and take aim at The Darkness' neck. Trusting everything into this final effort, The Spirit would stand its ground, bow cocked and drawn between its fingers, sweat dripping down a sienna lock of hair, and eyes locked on where the arrow would fly. The Darkness would recognize such a tactic and seek to end it, launching a blast of its own. Fire and bolt would meet one another and pass through on the way to their targets. Arrow would strike the neck and the flame would singe and crackle leather armor and armored plates.
But determination would beat cowardice, and wounded, The Darkness would spread its wings and fly off to find another realm, a different host.
However, before you close this story in frustration at the author having spoiled what may have been the most important part to yourself, allow me to add another tidbit. In all of her life Lillian had never been as afraid and confused and abandoned as in this moment, but it was this moment as in most moments of great challenge, that defined exactly why such a small and frail girl was chosen for such a dangerous and enormous battle.
Among all of the images and fears and temptations The Darkness pushed unto Lillian (which we will not go into), there was in all of them a very common but difficult to see theme. For "darkness", that true void and emptiness which is the anathema of light and warmth and life, is a very different thing than The Darkness. For in order for "The Darkness" to be all that which it claimed, horrors and nightmares and fear, it would have to give up the very things that make it able to claim and claw and hunger. In essence, the very fact of its existence as a being, with individual thoughts and desires and character is a part of the light of life and existence. For true darkness is where nothing exists.
This was the first lie that Lillian saw.
Now when you are being barraged by a multitude of fears and horrors, it is very difficult to complete any sort of complex thoughts. It is quite impossible to rely on logic or emotions or drawn out memories. The thoughts are quickly shattered. However, small thoughts, simple thoughts, tiny thoughts of your own can often manage to bubble to the surface, complete before fear tears down your attention. It was such with the simple truths Lillian's father had passed on to her. From his daughter's young age the physician imbued in her a respect for life and appreciation for all things that exist.
Once, when Lillian was quite small, a tar-black wood snake had found its way into her room. Being a cold-blooded creature, the snake sought out the warmest spot where to curl up and digest its recently caught dinner. It was a very cold night and while the house was much warmer than the outside, it still was not quite to the snake's satisfaction. It was its seemingly good fortune then, when it flicked its tongue and sensed the air, that it saw a reasonably sized heater hiding itself underneath a series of blankets.
That heater was, of course, a tiny Lillian, having recently fallen asleep for the night. As with most children her age, she had a healthy fear of snakes, and a very healthy fear of strange black things slithering up her leg as she slept. She awoke, saw her bedfellow, and cried out in what was (at that point) the most terrified she had ever been.
Naturally her father, who was still awake at the time, rushed into the room and, seeing the snake curled and hissing at the kicking and crying child, picked it up out of the bed, while sustaining no small number of bites, and left the room with it in a hurry.
Lillian wondered and worried for some time what had happened to her father. Had the snake eaten him? Perhaps he was wounded and needed help? Oh but what match was such a small girl for such a evil and terrifying snake? She spent several minutes rocking on her bed, scared for her father and hating the wretched snake before finally, her parent returned one arm slightly bandaged.
"Lillian, are you alright?" he asked her in his caring tone.
Lillian could not respond. So relieved was she at her father's safe return that she flew at him in a ball of tears, all of her worries and reliefs for her father and curses for the snake bubbling out in a mishmash of sobs.
Her father comforted her, rocked her gently and assured her that all would be fine. She begged him to not send her back to bed. He smiled and asked if she would like to stay up with him for just a bit longer which she gladly agreed to.
He picked her up with his non-bandaged arm, in that way he could do much more frequently before she grew too big, and he carried her over to his study.
"Would you like to meet someone?" He asked her.
She nodded.
"Now you, didn't have a very good introduction but I thought maybe you would like to see..." he trailed off and pointed over towards the fireplace. There, in a wide bottom jar, lied the small black snake, asleep and as content as could be next to the warmth of the fireplace. Lillian looked at her father concerned but curious, and her father explained how the snake was just looking for a warm place to stay, and how no it was not poisonous, and how in many ways it was very useful for catching mice, and how he planned to find a nice place outside and away from people to let it go in the morning.
Now that was not the only time Lillian's father refused to kill a creature and instead treated it as a houseguest, but it was the time that stood out in Lillian's mind the most. It was the time when looking back she could recall her father's words that "nothing that exists is truly evil" and it was the core of that truth that bubbled to the surface in Lillian's mind and revealed the first lie of The Darkness.
I AM DEATH. I AM FEAR. I AM NIGHTMARES COME TO CLAIM YOU.
Now were Lillian left to herself she never would have the chance to realize the second lie. She would just know that the Darkness could not be exactly what it claimed to be, but that alone would not prevent the terrors from breaking their way into her fragile mind.
It was here that Lillian owed her greatest debt of gratitude to the Viridiofloran, Reudic Otsaceae. Had Reudic not stolen the bracelet and charged towards Lillian, the others would not have followed as quickly as they did, and the ritual which the sister of the darkness wanted to take place would have completed without interruption. Now Reudic, still ready to choke and break the small girl wrapped among his vines found to his extreme frustration that the shapeshifting darkness refused to allow him his pleasure. Where his tendrils constricted, The Darkness pushed back. Where he sought to snap the child, The Darkness refused him passage. The realization Reudic came to was infuriating.
The Darkness, even this evil force which claims to be death and destruction and all evil, even that was trying to preserve the life of the young girl! No, Reudic would not allow this. The one thing he desired, the one goal he had tried to accomplish to prove and avenge everything about himself was being thwarted not just by his former comrades but by this supposedly malevolent being? Unthinkable. Unbearable. In a fit of rage Reudic sought to break The Darkness from Lillian. He forced his toxins into the sister and hurled Lillian as far as he could manage.
This small action broke the flood of terrors swarming in Lillian's mind. Like a diver gasping for air in a storm, her thoughts broke into a world of clarity, just before the waves drug her underneath again. It was enough. In that small bit of time, Lillian, reeling from all the fears and horrors, knowing almost instinctively that this being was lying to her, and feeling the ferocity with which it sought to get her back, she knew the truth.
It needs me.
That single thought managed to escape before The Darkness took hold once more. However, in that thought the idea that The Darkness was going to consume her, to claim her, vanished. She was not simply a victim of this malevolent being, it needed her for something. Maybe to escape this castle or to continue existing or from loneliness, she could not tell nor bring herself to think through such things. The very idea, alone, the knowledge of the second lie, that the creature was not a darkness independent of all others, that in actuality it very much desired and needed Lillian for whatever reason, gave the small girl the determination to struggle and fight against it.
It would have been a very futile fight had it not been that Reudic had, albeit unintentionally, tossed Lillian within arm's reach of the brightly glowing point bracelet. As Lillian struggled, both physically and mentally, her arms flew and her legs kicked and she screamed (though now out of determination, and no longer terror), the smallest part of her finger brushed against the edge of the bracelet.
The spell was broken.
As Lloyd had beseeched them earlier, all it took was a single touch from the target to undo the spell placed on The Spirit. It had found its charge and was no longer bound by magic to light the way.
It was then that another battle took place, one which revealed the third and most important lie The Darkness preached to Lillian. She had never been abandoned.
A battle in the realm of spirits is not entirely different than a battle on the physical plane. One could easily imagine The Spirit, free from its shackles, standing sword in hand before the looming dragon of The Darkness. The Spirit's twirled its blade, engraved with words of compassion for the girl. The Darkness breathed vows of fire and curses. One could picture the Spirit, far smaller than the hulking beast, but with a determination that far surpassed the cowardice inherent in the foul-hearted creature. The Spirit would charge, shouting into the fray, dodging blasts of flame summoned by The Darkness. With sword in hand The Spirit would slash at the nearest part of the beast, blade deflecting off the armor-like scales. A claw would swing down and a spiked tail would whip back narrowly missing the caretaker.
The Spirit would look, eyes darting about, searching for a spot of weakness. As the beast shot heated blast after heated blast, The Spirit would see in the creature's neck a spot unprotected by steel plated scales. While dodging, the sword would be sheathed, and the bow removed. The Spirit would draw an arrow - it only had one - and take aim at The Darkness' neck. Trusting everything into this final effort, The Spirit would stand its ground, bow cocked and drawn between its fingers, sweat dripping down a sienna lock of hair, and eyes locked on where the arrow would fly. The Darkness would recognize such a tactic and seek to end it, launching a blast of its own. Fire and bolt would meet one another and pass through on the way to their targets. Arrow would strike the neck and the flame would singe and crackle leather armor and armored plates.
But determination would beat cowardice, and wounded, The Darkness would spread its wings and fly off to find another realm, a different host.