Cordir - Mortal History
It would be impossible to fully chronicle the mortal life of a woman who has lived one thousand years. Here, then, are some brief glimpses at the events that most greatly shaped her…
In The Space Between the Void and the Pattern:
The Three knew it was time to cast Their spirits forth once more. Lessons needed to be learned. Perspective regained. Each had created an Incarnation countless times, some times interacting with her sisters, sometimes walking an entire lifetime alone. This time, however, would be different. An Incarnation shared by all three... a life reflecting all of their Paths... to finally grow and to mature into whatever that varied life would bring...
Southshire:
>> The babe wailed before the midwife had a chance to smack its crimson skin. "A girl," fumed the mother. "Sickly, too. He'll never believe it is his..."
>> The girl-child winced, eyes huge, as the man struck her mother again. The youngling curled up tightly, nodding in time to the voices which whispered in her mind that she would be next to face his wrath. The expected fist sent her reeling, but it wasn't as bad as last time...
>> She closed her eyes, just like Mother did when they were doing it to her, and wished herself elsewhere... hot tears of shame and disgust rolled down off her lashes, and a matching bead of hot blood trickled from her lip where she bit it to keep from crying out. "You're almost as good as your mother, you little slut," he murmured, his tongue flicking over the mingled fluids dripping down her cheek. Finally, it was over, and he pushed her roughly away. "Now go set the table. And mind you don't drop anything this time." "Yes, poppa."
>> The pain in her belly was getting worse. Ripples of agony every morning, swollen and sore. She had to do something. She couldn't bear for him to touch her again. Couldn't bear the thing that writhed inside her...The voices told her they would take care of everything... all she had to do was hide the knife under her pillow... he wouldn't expect a fight out of her... not after the last time... no, he never would expect a thing...
>> She concentrated on taking one more staggering step, then fell to her knees and crawled into the shelter of the thornbush. No one was likely to brave its wicked barbs to check for her there. She weakly blotted the blood on her thighs with the hem of her skirt. What was his and what was hers and what was the lost babe's, she could not tell. Her hand were covered with it, sticky and horrifying. She held them out in front of her, afraid to acknowledge that they were even her own... the Voices said that all that had died that day was the last of her purity... nothing to regret... she heeded their siren song, and let herself become lost in their murmurs, willingly giving herself up to their madness...
Midgaard:
>> Cold stone met her seeking fingertips, then the iron of the gate. "Be off with you, scum!" the guard snarled. A woman's calm but firm voice answered. "Lieutenant. Can't you see the child is hurt? Open this gate this moment, or I shall open it myself." A brief skirmish. A dull thud that echoed the pounding in her head. The door opened. A slight, nut-brown woman reached out one glowing hand to guide her inside. Shying away at the touch, she bolted through, and slipped along the wall to the orchard beyond. She had smelled the apples and it reminded her of something... she searched the jumbled noise of her memories, trying to recall what it was... but all was lost and a-swirl in the voices...
N'Kai The Black: An Ebon Challenge
>> The Dhole writhed and coiled before her, filling the vast chamber. She could hear the splash as its saliva struck the floor and sizzled, and, nearly buried beneath those sounds, His chuckle. Trembling, she raised her eyes to where she could only guess His were, and asked, "With Your consent…?" The air moved, stirred by the giant's nod. "Aye." Closing her eyes, and murmuring a brief prayer to the Weaver, she cast herself upon the Dhole's fangs, its acidic breath rending her life from her limbs instantly..Black marble, black flames... and silence... blessed silence. The voices, only a whisper, not a drowning cacophony, and comrades who cared naught about the holes in her heart, her soul, her memories. Devotion to Him, to His word, His people... purpose at last... <LOG>
Midgaard:
>> Peering around the corner of the archway, she saw him standing there, scarlet shield at the ready, sword bare and bloody, a still form at his feet. His grey-blue gaze met hers instantly, then softened as he took in her scrawny shivering form. The sword lifted imperceptibly as he then noticed her aura. As she was far too unworthy an opponent, he let his words be his dueling weapon, challenging her beliefs and faith to no avail...
>> She slashed her wrists again… there wasn't enough blood yet. The basin was only half full… She dipped her long hair into the bucket, and began scrubbing the marble floor with it, silently murmuring prayers as she cleaned… Hours later, the paladin would have to use his sword to hack off the ruined mess of her tresses...
>> The voice was thunderous, inescapable. "Thaygar has Ascended. His Temple will now be removed… Everyone, get to safety, NOW!" Her sobs made her chest clench as she ran from Her Lord's office to His Temple. She forced herself to still, to look at each stone, each tongue of flame, every detail of the Ebon Hand altar, committing it to memory. Keller's voice echoed pleadingly from outside, begging her to leave before it was too late. But she couldn't. She wanted to die, to go, to disappear from the realm just as Thaygar's blessed Temple was to disappear… Forcibly, a giant Aaracokran claw seized her and flung her violently out of the edifice, and her mind went blank as the holy place of the Ebon Hand was torn away…
>> The Paladin's voice was soothing, calming… it did nothing to still the voices that clamored all the louder for Thaygar's Ascension and absence… but it was calming, none the less. He spoke of other Paths, leaving the Ebon Hand behind, it being time to heal and let go. Reasonable, for most, she supposed. But not for her. She could not walk his road - not when another strode by his side. She feared she was beginning to care for him too much. He had oaths binding him elsewhere, and it was not right for a woman of her station to dream so high… She swore an oath to her Ascended Lord that she would leave, flee, depart, should it come to that... but soon thereafter, the Oath was broken, and she had to admit how much she loved him... A Journey to Southshire
Southshire:
>> She shook like a leaf, standing before the Duke. Home at last. Home to face trial for her sins. She wanted to be punished... knew she deserved it. If not for the crime of patricide, then for loving the son of the man who sat in judgment before her. A quiet sob escaped her gritted teeth as they put the irons upon her, and her sentence was spoken...
Temples:
>> The sense of welcome she had from the Kindred Vampyric was a balm on her soul. Khore's kindness drawing her from her shell of misery and loss. [The gift of His Kiss, an even greater surprise.]
Midgaard:
>> Cordir trembled, as Polnevdra stood before her, and spoke the words of the ceremony. Though her entire being yearned and hoped that this union would take place, darkness filled her heart. Perhaps it was the storm clouds brewing, or the faintest scent of rotting flesh that only she seemed able to detect… but she knew that something would interfere. That was why she had instructed Keller to, with force, break any enchantment laid upon her. As the Drow priestess turned towards her, asking for her pledge, her worst nightmares confirmed themselves in the form of the Arch-Lich… The Wedding of Cordir & Keller
>> Speaking to him was forbidden. Even standing here, talking to the vampire was a risk. She didn't know why she took the chance, only that she was deeply drawn to him, despite her shattered oath to Keller. She lightly scrubbed at a dirt streak upon his cheek, and he blushed horribly. "I really must go," she murmured. "The Kindred and the Conclave are not friends, and I have no wish to anger my Master, the Arch-Lich. Also, my Mentor, Salem, calls and I must answer." Her voice was soft, but bitter. His hand on her arm was light, gentle. "I understand. Fare well, my friend."…
>> Laying upon the icy stone floor, she felt rather than saw a skeletal hand raise her up. "You've been terribly ill, Cordir. We were feared for your life. Your dear husband has been terribly worried about you…" Prince Canaan stepped towards her with a cold smile. "You've been ill, dear. It's time you got well again, and returned to your duties…" The face seemed familiar, but she felt no answering warmth in her heart as the man before her was named as her husband. Perhaps it was simply part of the illness…she simply couldn't remember...
>> Almost immediately forgotten by one for whom she had no memory, she wandered. An unidentifiable sense of loss painted her world gray, but some joy and solace was to be found in the quiet presence of a wanderer. Friendship, despite their dissimilarity, was forged.
>> The Vampire God's words made no sense. What did He mean, she was chosen of the Triat? Words spilled from His lips in a spell to break what He swore were enchantments upon her, and the next moment, her friend, Mystil, turned fang upon her and attacked on His order. It only showed her that the Arch-Lich had been right, and that enemies were more cunning than she had imagined - perfectly willing to play cruel Mind Games.
>> When her vision cleared, she found herself in an darkened chamber. A gasp tore its way from her lips, as a demon emerged from the darkness and padded towards her. An unseen figure barked a command, and the demon slunk back into the shadows. A bucket appeared out of no where, along with a duster. "Get to it", the Implementor, Madman, growled...
>> The puppet strings tugged by the Perfect One's Son were all too plain, and she could not trust his sudden about-face. Though she cared for the Wanderer, she hesitated: What further plots were unseen, awaiting the wrong choice?
>> The shining form of the Paladin God smiled at her gently. "Cordir… I have spoken with the Arch-Lich, and He has agreed to release you into My service… would you join Me and serve Me as my Silver Witch? " She nodded violently, her heart filling with a soft joy. A shadow fell from her as the Lich's Mark was ripped out of her flesh. Falling to her knees, she gave Gryphon her Oath…
The Deepwood: Shadows, An Answer
>> Tears choked her, as her heart-sib, Jahiliya, spoke in quiet, even tones. The voice of the Vampire God, Khore, echoed Jahiliya's sentiments. The enchantment had to be broken. She had to know, what was the truth of her past, and what was the lie. Twice, already, she had died at the hands of a loved one - once, by one of Khore's servants, the second, by Keller's hand. And thrice, with eyes open, if she dared it, tonight, there being magic in threes, for one who still adhered to the Triat Ways. Seeking some manner of calm within herself, she knelt upon the soft grass and bowed her head, signaling her readiness. Her heart-sib would not strike the blow from behind - this was far too important a thing for such tactics - but instead, struck a single, clean blow to Cordir's heart...
A Day-lit Garden in the Elven Homestead:
>> She smiled at those gathered in the garden, and called the elements to purify the ritual. As she did so, the felt a stirring deep within her. This was what she was meant to do; the binding of souls, the interweaving of lives, the altering of the Pattern itself...
Midgaard:
>> She closed her eyes in regret as Keller stormed by with a glance of disgust. What had been between them was broken, shattered, unhealed for either of them. He had long-since found solace in a new marriage to a hot tempered young half-elven girl named Kylera. They had two sweet twin girls, and there were dark rumors of a third, older child, a boy, taken by the Lich himself... She hovered at the doorway of the Ceremonial chamber, and watched the twin girls being Named and Blessed. Silently, she added her own wishes of joy and happiness, and was answered with an angry glare from their father... She stole away quietly and sought out Gwyrdain, whose steadfast, quiet presence had been a balm that healed her shattered heart. An Engagement..
N'Kai The Black:
>> She bowed deeply to the naked shaman before her, her eyes skimming the tattooed sigils and wards that marked him a priest of the Dhole. He nodded silently, and began chanting. Jahiliya, Tokugawa, and Nameless stood nearby, watching the ritual battle, and Polnevdra watched the path in Dwarvenhold. Lightning danced upon her fingertips, and she cast them in response to the shaman's soul rift. The battle went on for several moments - her mourning star pounding at his Cloak as her spells pummeled his protections. But finally, it was he who fell, and she Ascended to the highest Mage rank...
The Temples & The Guild
>> "You are unworthy of him," said the Son of Nash. His Apprentice had been sent away to protect him from her influence, with no word, no goodbye, nothing. Her heart broke once more, and it would be one hundred years and more before she would end her mourning...
>> The demon-spawn before her blushed crimson as she bestowed upon him the Standard of the Silver Fellowship. "Tis well earned, Nameless... you have been an example to many..." "This one thanks you, Lady Witch." Others joined her in applauding him on his birthing-day... little did they know that their Fellowship would be sundered soon...
>> The cool marble of the Temples provided a dangerous surface upon which to fight, but she felt that this place, just outside where Thaygar's Temple had been, was the proper place for her to finish her Mastery Trial. Only this last task remain - summon and slay the Guardian Vampire. All the others were done - hunting moonlight, silence for months, certain beasts to dispatch. This last had been the most troublesome. Finally, she had learned of the scrolls in the Pyramid which summoned the fell beast. With the Grand Druidess of the Conclave at her side, ready to create a bag from the corpse, she recited the scroll and called her lightnings...
>> She spent hours searching the Realm, having given her Vow. In preparation and practice for her goal, no newcomer to the Realm went ungreeted, and many the coin she spent at the tent of the Dark Brothers, buying weapons to enchant for them. Her steps were almost always alone - her heart ached, and she longed to wrap it in the icy armor of indifference she hoped Immortality would bring...
War'loov's Fortress:
>> Premonition swept over her. She felt strongly that she needed to regain her strength after the many deaths she had suffered of late, seeking the quest tokens required to petition for Immortality... she was dangerously weakened, and had not yet gone through the painful process of Conversion to the new Ways of the Realm. So, her steps had brought her here... to the southern minotaur fortress. She stepped resolutely into battle, attacking one of the maids. Suddenly, her sight went dark... when she could see again, she was shivering naked in the Grand Temple of Midgaard, with no memory of how she had gotten there.... but much had been lost, from her mind and her skills... Almost as if she had forgotten her last several ranks of learning... She attempted to find the guru and give him her Vow again, but he refused. She had lost too much to seek Immortality, and had to regain it before he would accept such a pledge again...
A Moonlit Garden in the Elven Homestead:
>> His voice was soft, velvety, caressing her as he spoke. She was certain that it was simply a dream, for he could not be speaking the words that she was hearing... not he... not to her. His lips teased hers, coaxing and gentle, and she felt the barest brush of his fangs against her tongue. Shivering, she moaned against his mouth and leaned into the kiss... It was no dream, but the admission of a bond that had grown for a dozen years...
A Hidden Cabin in the Woods:
She reached out with her growing awareness as Weaver, grasping the Threads of Time... acting on instinct, she blended the Past with the Present, to craft the needed miracle... Together they created her form, and together called her spirit... and were answered .... Months later, she would birth their child, alone and sorrowed, only knowing that once more, Deamhan was gone, Pattern-lost, but still alive...somewhere...
Sanguinna:
>> She heard the alarms as he passed, still unsure as to what exactly was harming Cirth. Perhaps some form of possession? He had spoken in a woman's voice, high and shrill, crone-like, and his words had been words of power. She smiled ruefully, and rubbed her arm where his spells had slammed into her. The eerie voice rose again, with promises of death. An insight came, and she began chanting a rann to the Triat, using their Names as the keys to unbinding. Another came to join her in the fight, and together the blasted the spirit out of the Scribe, returning him to himself once more in a baptism of fire and lightning: Saving Cirth.
A Moonlit Garden in the Elven Homestead:
>> Something brushed her growing awareness as Weaver Incarna. Her oathed love... feeling him close for the first time in decades... She hurried to the garden with two ancient friends and sought him within the Pattern. To her horror, she found him, and to his horror, he found himself rescued, but filled with self-loathing at the things he had been forced to in his time of imprisonment at his father's hands... Together they began the healing process, and renewed their own vows to one another and find their missing daughter: Reunion / Seeking Night / The Tale of Magda.
Sanguinna:
>> Khore had granted her permission to earn the right to wed her love. But facing the three Brothers that had wounded her so grievously in the past made her tremble in fear. Three friends stepped forward with a fourth to ward her and the babe as this final task was completed: The Death of Three Brothers
Dwarvenhold:
>> The room seemed crowded, somehow, thought it was only Typhon and Tokugawa present, as if all those who had helped her come to this moment stood by, ghostlike. Finding Deamhan had given her the strength and courage to seek out what had been lost so long ago... She took a deep breath, and with a muttered prayer to the Weaver, engaged the Duergar Princeling. Soon the battle was over, and the pinnacle of sorcerous achievement was hers once more...
The Office of Tynian, The Creator:
>> His voice was harsh, demanding answers as to her suitability for the honor she sought. She spoke quietly, earnestly, of the long dreams she had held in her heart, her goals and hopes. After a few pointed questions as to her interactions with others, she felt a wave of light pass over her, as if the sun itself had embraced her. Mortality fell away, and a new life began...
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