Arren Illiathan: The Coward

"Bastard!"

Alia slammed her fist into the desk, sending paper flying in all directions whilst spilling a bottle of tarlike ink.

"That selfish piece of---"

What was he?

 

A piece of what? Goblin shit? Troll bugger? She had no words left to describe him. He'd been gone for over a month now, but her return voyage had been long delayed as excursions at sea often are. A few weeks ago she had discovered his absence from Andmar, from their family home. However, today she finally took it upon herself to do the job she'd been neglecting. She gathered up the scattered papers from about the floor and reorganized them. He had left everything so neat, with notes on wehere to pick up. Such a strange man...could they possibly be related? Everybody in the family acted on impulse, with pride and passion for their family, but Arren...coward. That was the word that came to mind when she thought of her brother now. Unable to face his own sister. Unable to face his family, or what was left, unable to face who he was and who he had become. 

He was hands down the greatest hero she'd ever met in her entire life. When she was blind to the world and under the throws of love, he had killed the man who had intended to murder them and destroy their family. He had avenged Brennet's death in the face of a far superior opponent. He helped save Alk'Hara and Lionne when they were on the brink of destruction. Coward. Coward because he took no name, because he saw not what he had done, because she was sure that when he looked in the mirror he saw nothing. A shadow of a man. 

Arren had come back here to do his family's accounts, to arrange business and allow his parents peace while affording  Alia the opportunity to pursue her dreams of captaining the Couatl. Were it not for her, their parent's would have scarcely had any idea the dangers their son had faced to return home; to ensure that there was a home to return to. Now of course, he had fled it once again.  

She should have known better than to think he would be happy here. Perhaps he just needed time to reflect on what his life had become, but Alia had the feeling that he had avoided any thinking by burying his head in the ledgers of the family business. What an intolerably stubborn man. He was perhaps the most stubborn Illiathan since their line had begun. Perhaps that was what made him a great man. 

Whatever called him, it had to be greater than this. Greater than what she undertook when she accepted the title as captain of the Couatl. Time had numbed, at first, the hole in her heart, made when Arren had killed Meldin. She felt as though her brother were a murderer. A lie. The winter of Dornheim had changed her. That dagger wound in her chest had widened and deepened, and filled with something else. Wisdom perhaps. Perhaps love. Perhaps a void where romance had once dwelled. 

She knew one thing. When Arren returned, the world would have changed. She only hoped that if he needed her, she would have the strength to help him like he'd helped her, to stab his heart in order to save his life. For what is a hero without a shadow, what is a man without pride in his own name.

Illiathan.

Dawn of Discovery: Chapter 2 Intro - Leap of Faith

There are, in fact, despite some confusion, two kinds of darkness.

One is simple. The common association is the absence of light. Simple shadows, everywhere. Darkness as the deepest and most complete form of color. This term can be used in other ways, for example: to describe the soul of a wicked person. Or to represent a period of unconsciousness. Most scholars and professors of language will agree that darkness is a playful word, and in many ways poetic. But there is another kind of darkness, less objective.

Nothingness is the closest comparison. An absences of any visual or kinetic stimulants, as well as the absence of knowing what those things are, and what it is like to experience them. There are no emotions, matter, or memory. There is simply the endless probability of absolute inexperiencable emptiness. To step foot into this kind place (despite not being any place at all, in fact a total lack of borders and movement are part of the package), is forever. There is no coming back, since there is no time, it will never end.

There are only a few ways to "experience" this lack of experiences.

One is to be born. The moment a spirit and body become one, there is darkness.

One is to die. When your spirit leaves your body, there is darkness.

The last is to move your spirit from one body to another. To force it to travel into darkness.

Traveling between planes of existence is true darkness. Your body does not come with you. Some don't realize that part of dimensional travel. You see, you already exist in the plane you are traveling to. To have two identical souls on one plane of existence would shatter the foundation of that world. So souls travel, and your extra planar body is there waiting for you. No one is sure what happens to your original planar body while you leave, but it is "gone." Perhaps in a darkness of its own.

Where'd my beard go?

As he stepped into the mirror Korick lost all sense of himself. He felt as if he was being pulled through a thick pudding. As the thick liquid of the mirror enveloped him his body gave way to his consciousnesses.Korick felt a                strange sense of strength being stripped of his earthly flesh. To be pure consciousnesses was a heady feeling, like being one big beard. The realm he traveled through was impossible to comprehend. The most he could see was a color, witch was strange having no eyes to see with. It was so intense that he couldn't focus on it simply let it flood through him. If he had to put a name to it he would have called it blurple... no greange, blaed? It was impossible to categorize. Just as he was coming to fully utilize his new "form" he came hurtling back to his body. He attempted to stand and instead a torrent of vomit came bursting from his very core. This is why dwarves didn't become mages.