Delisha Zrazorian
Upon first discovering the abandoned, wide-eyed little infant, the old whore cackled out loud, “Oh how delicious”.
And so Delisha was named, and temporarily adopted by the “ladies” of the Purple Seagull, a sleazy brothel tavern, rotting deep within the slums of Port Slather.
Delisha’s childhood was that of the typical homeless waif, who survived on the murderous, harbor streets in the City of Despair…hard and ruthless and cruel.
The shadows became young Delisha’s only friends… the darkness of the night her security blanket. Like the other homeless street urchins, she grew up stealing simply to stay alive… learning when to run and where to hide… how to slip silently into the shadows to avoid a fight… when to use her innocent little smile to hypnotize the fancy Ladies… while her nimble fingers emptied their expensive purses.
And like all those who live on the streets, Delisha matured quickly, learning that men too were easily charmed by her innocent, wide-eyed smile and developing young body. Throughout her teenage years she survived and prospered using her thieving skills in combination with her female wiles.
Yet, Delisha dreamed for a life of high adventure… fascinated by the sailors’ tall tales of strange and exotic places, filled with mystery and splendor. Her vision was to put Port Slather and all its low-life degenerates behind her…to leave this god-forsaken little hellhole forever and become a wandering minstrel… far away from Port Slather’s filthy walls and disease ridden streets.
For Delisha loved to sing…her deep, melancholy voice could bring a tear to the eye of the most hardened brigand. Many said the sad ballads she wrote were an open window to her tortured soul.
True to her dream, upon reaching her twenty-first birthday, Delisha abandoned her life of thievery and prostitution to begin her new life as a Bard… leaving the City of Despair far behind… seeking her destiny… off to discover the world in all its wonder!
Zackariah Mueller
Zack grew up an only child in the small, farming village of Oakdale, and from the time he could walk, his days were spent helping his father in the family’s blacksmith shop. Whether hauling the heavy buckets of cooling water, pumping the belching bellows or pounding the white-hot steel into shape, the long hours of hard work sculpted Zack’s growing young body into rock hard muscle.
Only on the Sabbath was Zack free from his daily hard labor… his mother involved with the ladies of the Church and his father always off with the other village elders attending some meeting or another. Almost all Zack’s free time was spent with his two best friends Ernest Taylor and Bertram Bodane, hunting in the heavily wooded forests or fishing in the clear fresh streams surrounding Oakdale.
By age eighteen, Zack and his friends were all tired of this boring little village, ready for some high adventure, eager to explore the world! As fate would have it, war broke out and Zack and his friends were drafted into the King’s Army.
All through basic training, daydreams of grandeur filled the young boys heads. The three of them conquering the evil hordes, rescuing the fair maidens and returning home heroes, their pockets filled to the brim with gold and untold treasures.
Their first assignment seemed easy enough, simply escort a caravan of much needed supplies to Fort Anders and return. Twenty-five young recruits, two seasoned Sergeants and the Company Commander marching west to meet their destiny… little knowing that this day… destiny rides the dark stallion of death!
Just before sunset, the second day of their virgin journey, the lead scout reported a lone, dark rider approaching quickly from west. Squinting into the dusty sun, the Commander ordered a dozen troops to go forth and intercept the intruder.
Zack would have been with that first group of interceptors, but for a lucky twist of fate… his horse pulling up lame at the last moment. Quickly dismounting to investigate the mounts injury, Zack suddenly heard bloodcurdling screams of pain and death sending a shiver of cold fear racing down his spine. Quickly looking up, Zack’s eyes went wide as he witnessed the slaughter first hand…
Like a spotlight from hell, the last remaining rays of sunlight highlighted the massive, blood-soaked, ebony blade as it swept back and forth, back and forth, harvesting Zack’s young companions like wheat before a hungry scythe.
Yet Zack had no time to even comprehend what was happening before the dark rider conjured up a fireball and loosed it upon the unsuspecting caravan.
Once again, it was only luck that saved young Zackariah's life. In total panic his horse bolted, slipped, then fell over on top of the boy, slamming him face down into a mud filled ditch. The ensuing explosion from the Dark One’s fireball blew the horse that was smothering him, to the other side of the road.
Like a drowning man, Zack pulled himself up out of the slimy mud gasping for life-giving oxygen. But it was not fresh air he breathed deeply into his bursting lungs, but rather the horrific stench of burning, roasted flesh.
Zack gagged and retched over and over and over, for what seemed like an eternity, until finally he stopped long enough to wipe the mud off his face and take a look around.
His eyes went wide with horror, and then tightly closed… trying to block out the ghastly panorama of death and carnage, but it was too late. Zack’s innocent young mind snapped like a dried twig under a heavy boot.
Leaping up out of the mud, laughing uncontrollably, Zack began dancing on top of his fallen comrades, slipping and sliding in the blood and gore. Like a puppet in a gale force wind, his body flailed and twisted, jumped and jerked until finally, exhausted, he slipped and fell on his back weeping like a baby.
The BlackGuard paused for a moment, sliding his wet, ebony blade back into its rune-covered scabbard. An evil grin parted the Dark One’s unholy lips and he reached down, slowly pushing a single finger deep into the young boys chest, touching Zack’s very heart with the darkest of darkness.
Some say Zackariah's scream of agony was heard over ten miles away.
More than a month passed before the young boy regained consciousness, another fortnight, before he could rise from his cot. Yet, while his body slowly healed, the same could not be said about young Zack’s mind. No words came from his slack-jawed lips and his eyelids remained closed as if he were sleeping. Day after day Zack sat on his stool, slowly rocking back and forth like a mindless thistle in the wind.
Lifting his eyelids revealed only murky pools of empty darkness where his eyes used to be.
Months passed and nothing changed but the color of the autumn leaves, and still no words came from Zack’s slack-jawed lips, his eyelids closed to the world.
October 31, All Hallows Eve, and a young new bard was playing at the inn, one show only!
Some of the men from the barracks decided to take poor Zack down to listen to the performance. The off-duty soldiers placed the injured boy in a comfortable chair near the front of the tavern’s stage just as the performer was beginning her first set of songs.
The Bard was sitting on her stool at the very rear of the stage, her back against the wall, her fingers twisting and bending her lyre strings to her will, forcing them to cry out painful harmonic discord.
Suddenly, young Zack’s body jerked and twitched as if he’d been struck by lightening… and when the young Bard began to sing, Zackariah Mueller stood up and opened his eyes!
The Bard’s dark, melancholic voice vibrated deep within Zack’s torn and damaged psyche, unlocking, and then opening the charred and twisted doorway to his blackened soul. Her haunting melody possessed the very essence of his being and Zackariah Mueller fell utterly and absolutely in love. A dark, obsessive, perverted kind of sick love, the kind of love a blood-sucking parasite has for its life-giving host.
And then Zackariah Mueller laughed… The hideous, bloodcurdling sound echoed throughout the tavern, bringing fear to the eyes of even the most seasoned vet… for it was the cruel, spine-chilling laughter of the criminally insane!
Delisha Zrazorian & Zackariah Mueller
-
Delisha Zrazorian
- Newbie Helper
- Posts: 335
- Joined: Tue Jun 29, 2010 6:08 am
Delisha Zrazorian & Zackariah Mueller
My attitude toward men who mess around is simple: If you find 'em, kill 'em!
-
Delisha Zrazorian
- Newbie Helper
- Posts: 335
- Joined: Tue Jun 29, 2010 6:08 am
Re: Delisha Zrazorian & Zackariah Mueller
Zack and Delisha
Silently entering her tiny room, Delisha stretched out on the bed, careful not to awaken the blonde boy sleeping on the floor. Once she was comfortable, Delisha let her mind drift back, remembering the time she’d first met her new “roommate”. More than a month had passed since their first encounter.
Delisha was singing for her supper at the Crossroads Inn; a packed house that night; one show only!
Before she began to play, some soldiers entered the inn carrying an injured comrade. In a comfortable chair, at the front of the stage, they placed a blonde haired, comatose boy.
Slack jawed, his eyes closed, the young soldier sat motionless as Delisha began. Soon her strong, nimble fingers were twisting and bending her lyre strings making them cry out in mournful, harmonic discord… and then she was singing… her deep, melancholic voice resonating throughout the packed pub.
Suddenly, to the total amazement of all those in the tavern, the comatose blonde soldier literally jumped up out of his chair. Spinning around, facing the rest of the patrons, the now wild-eyed warrior began to laugh - a spine-chilling, evil laugh, that sent some customers screaming for the door… others, including his fellow soldiers, drew their swords in fear, not knowing what to expect! Delisha quickly packed up her lyre and slipped out the back; she wanted no trouble here.
As the fates would have it, however, trouble found the young bard two days later, as she was setting up camp for the night. Out of the lengthening shadows, four big men moved in quickly, surrounding her, leaving no chance for escape.
“Well, what have we here?” The toothless leader grinned. “A lonely little bird in need of some company for the night” The other outlaws laughed and hooted, eyeing her up and down.
“My friends will return any moment,” Delisha lied.
“I don’t think so darling,” the leader chuckled, a big, meaty paw reaching out. In an eye-blink Delisha’s boot-dagger was in her hand slashing out, finding its mark!
“OW! Screamed wounded man, quickly withdrawing his bleeding hand, “Why you little…”
“So, the pretty bird has teeth,” chuckled one of the other assailants, also reaching out to touch.
“Leave me be!” Delisha snarled, spinning around and slashing out again, avoiding the grasping hand. Suddenly without warning, a hard fist from behind knocked her to the ground. Gasping for air, she closed her eyes, preparing herself for the worst… hoping they would at least leave her alive.
But before a single hand touched young Delisha, spine-chilling laughter filled the night air. The violent sounds of clashing blades and screams of pain filled her ears. Hot blood splattered everywhere; pumping fresh from deep, death wounds. Suddenly the fighting ended, and the young bard heard only the sound of her own heavy breathing.
Slowly opening her eyes, Delisha found herself nose to nose with the young blonde soldier from the Crossroads Inn, his eyes wild, a weird, unholy smile reaching from ear to ear.
“Please…please don’t hurt me,” the young bard stammered, pleading for her life.
Smiling wider still, the crazy-eyed boy reached down and picked her up, his strong arms lifting her little body almost effortlessly. Delisha was too terrified to even scream, and again she closed her eyes, preparing herself for the pain. But it was not pain that made her eyes fly back open in shock and disbelief, but the strange and eerie feeling caused by an icy-cold tongue licking the blood off her crimson splattered face.
The young bard’s mind was reeling out of control, “What in the Nine Hells is happening?”
Several minutes later, when her licking captor was finished, the crazy boy set Delisha down on her feet, and then he quickly dropped to one knee. His head bowed low.
“She who owns my soul,” rumbled a voice of deepest, darkest malevolence, “Sing for Zack!”
Delisha stood shaking in stunned silence, unable to even breathe, much less sing. The blonde soldier slowly raised his head looking up at the young bard, his dark eyes pleading, begging pools of madness.
“Please, my mistress”, his dark voice pleaded, “Sing for Zack, feed me with your sad songs!”
Delisha took a deep breath, and began singing one of her haunting melodies. Shaking nervously at first, the young bard slowly regained composure as her deep, rich voice filled the night.
Back in control, Delisha watched and was amazed at how her music soothed and relaxed the young boy. Zack now lay stretched out on the ground, eyes closed, his body limp and peaceful. The young bard sang non-stop for the next half an hour, then stopped for an instant to listen.
The moment she heard crazy Zack snoring, Delisha slipped off into the darkness.
Less then a week later, little Delisha was deep in trouble again. Following a rumor she’d overheard in some backwater tavern, Delisha entered the old graveyard in search of a magical harp supposedly buried along with its owner.
Slipping silently into the crumbling crypt, Delisha followed the twisting passageway deep down into the ancient mausoleum, cautiously traversing the cobwebbed-filled corridor until it came to a dead end.
“A dead end?!” The thief-turned-bard quickly stripped off her backpack and began looking for any hidden levers or secret doors. Totally engrossed in her search, Delisha did not hear the sounds of the approaching undead until it was too late.
Unearthly moans and the sound of shuffling feet from behind set Delisha’s hair on end. Spinning around quickly she caught only a brief glimpse of the zombies closing in on her, before their horrible stench forced the young bard to her knees retching out of control.
The undead were all around her. Their icy fingers sending waves of unbearable pain into her tender flesh. Fighting hard just to remain conscious, Delisha slashed weakly at the rotting creatures surrounding her, trying to drive them back, but she could not. The young bard fell limp to the stone floor, warm food for the hungry undead.
Yet, when Delisha regained consciousness a few moments later, all the zombies were dead, hacked into little pieces, and the crazy boy Zack was leaning against the wall cleaning his sword. Noticing Delisha had awakened; the blonde-haired boy smiled his wide demonic smile and spoke.
“She who owns my soul,” rasped his dark voice again, “Sing for Zack, feed me with your sad songs”.
No hesitation this time, Delisha’s deep, heartrending harmonics echoed throughout ancient catacombs soothing and calming the young soldier. Mesmerized by her dark enchanting melody, the crazy boy sat down, his back against the wall, and was soon fast asleep.
“This is the second time this crazy boy has saved my life this week!”
Delisha trembled; the stark reality of her situation sent a cold shiver through her tiny frame. Back in Port Slather she had always been alone, she needed no one, she liked it that way, however, out in these new harsh lands…
Beginning another song, Delisha’s mind whirled, measuring the pros and cons of teaming up with the crazy, young soldier, Zack.
“HE’S OUT OF HIS MIND, SCARY CRAZY!”
“I will not survive on my own in these wild, new lands”.
“NO… REALLY! HE’S CRAZY!”
“He will never cheat on me, or lie to me, or hurt me, or treat me bad, ever!”
“YOU KNOW HE'S CRAZY, RIGHT?”
“He’s gonna follow me and watch out for me anyway”.
“HE'S TOTALLY, INCURABLY INSANE!”
“He asks only that I sing to him… nothing else does he take or expect.”
“WHAT ABOUT HIM BEING CRAZY”
“He loves me with all his black soul and has already saved me twice”
“CRAZY AS A FREAKIN’ LOON!”
“He is a strong and powerful fighter, who will protect me with his life!”
Three weeks later, the young Bard, Delisha and her Blackguard companion, Zack, boarded a small schooner bound for the harsh and brutal lands of Eternal Destiny.
As the fates would have it, the Fury Guild House stood empty… awaiting a strong and charismatic leader to again full its stonewalls with the shouts of victory and under Delisha’s aggressive leadership the ranks of Fury swelled. But with constant threat of the Goody-Goody Guilds banding together to challenge the Fury Guild for dominance of Eternal Destiny, Delisha made some hard fast decisions.
The Fury guild needed to learn how to fight player versus player and they needed to recruit more members into their Guild Hall on Eternal Destiny. To this cause Delisha and Zack accompanied Annabelle Thunderfist and Higdish Slowhand to the Player versus Player world of Neversummer4… to learn how to fight… and how to build… from some of the very best.
at your service,
DZ
Silently entering her tiny room, Delisha stretched out on the bed, careful not to awaken the blonde boy sleeping on the floor. Once she was comfortable, Delisha let her mind drift back, remembering the time she’d first met her new “roommate”. More than a month had passed since their first encounter.
Delisha was singing for her supper at the Crossroads Inn; a packed house that night; one show only!
Before she began to play, some soldiers entered the inn carrying an injured comrade. In a comfortable chair, at the front of the stage, they placed a blonde haired, comatose boy.
Slack jawed, his eyes closed, the young soldier sat motionless as Delisha began. Soon her strong, nimble fingers were twisting and bending her lyre strings making them cry out in mournful, harmonic discord… and then she was singing… her deep, melancholic voice resonating throughout the packed pub.
Suddenly, to the total amazement of all those in the tavern, the comatose blonde soldier literally jumped up out of his chair. Spinning around, facing the rest of the patrons, the now wild-eyed warrior began to laugh - a spine-chilling, evil laugh, that sent some customers screaming for the door… others, including his fellow soldiers, drew their swords in fear, not knowing what to expect! Delisha quickly packed up her lyre and slipped out the back; she wanted no trouble here.
As the fates would have it, however, trouble found the young bard two days later, as she was setting up camp for the night. Out of the lengthening shadows, four big men moved in quickly, surrounding her, leaving no chance for escape.
“Well, what have we here?” The toothless leader grinned. “A lonely little bird in need of some company for the night” The other outlaws laughed and hooted, eyeing her up and down.
“My friends will return any moment,” Delisha lied.
“I don’t think so darling,” the leader chuckled, a big, meaty paw reaching out. In an eye-blink Delisha’s boot-dagger was in her hand slashing out, finding its mark!
“OW! Screamed wounded man, quickly withdrawing his bleeding hand, “Why you little…”
“So, the pretty bird has teeth,” chuckled one of the other assailants, also reaching out to touch.
“Leave me be!” Delisha snarled, spinning around and slashing out again, avoiding the grasping hand. Suddenly without warning, a hard fist from behind knocked her to the ground. Gasping for air, she closed her eyes, preparing herself for the worst… hoping they would at least leave her alive.
But before a single hand touched young Delisha, spine-chilling laughter filled the night air. The violent sounds of clashing blades and screams of pain filled her ears. Hot blood splattered everywhere; pumping fresh from deep, death wounds. Suddenly the fighting ended, and the young bard heard only the sound of her own heavy breathing.
Slowly opening her eyes, Delisha found herself nose to nose with the young blonde soldier from the Crossroads Inn, his eyes wild, a weird, unholy smile reaching from ear to ear.
“Please…please don’t hurt me,” the young bard stammered, pleading for her life.
Smiling wider still, the crazy-eyed boy reached down and picked her up, his strong arms lifting her little body almost effortlessly. Delisha was too terrified to even scream, and again she closed her eyes, preparing herself for the pain. But it was not pain that made her eyes fly back open in shock and disbelief, but the strange and eerie feeling caused by an icy-cold tongue licking the blood off her crimson splattered face.
The young bard’s mind was reeling out of control, “What in the Nine Hells is happening?”
Several minutes later, when her licking captor was finished, the crazy boy set Delisha down on her feet, and then he quickly dropped to one knee. His head bowed low.
“She who owns my soul,” rumbled a voice of deepest, darkest malevolence, “Sing for Zack!”
Delisha stood shaking in stunned silence, unable to even breathe, much less sing. The blonde soldier slowly raised his head looking up at the young bard, his dark eyes pleading, begging pools of madness.
“Please, my mistress”, his dark voice pleaded, “Sing for Zack, feed me with your sad songs!”
Delisha took a deep breath, and began singing one of her haunting melodies. Shaking nervously at first, the young bard slowly regained composure as her deep, rich voice filled the night.
Back in control, Delisha watched and was amazed at how her music soothed and relaxed the young boy. Zack now lay stretched out on the ground, eyes closed, his body limp and peaceful. The young bard sang non-stop for the next half an hour, then stopped for an instant to listen.
The moment she heard crazy Zack snoring, Delisha slipped off into the darkness.
Less then a week later, little Delisha was deep in trouble again. Following a rumor she’d overheard in some backwater tavern, Delisha entered the old graveyard in search of a magical harp supposedly buried along with its owner.
Slipping silently into the crumbling crypt, Delisha followed the twisting passageway deep down into the ancient mausoleum, cautiously traversing the cobwebbed-filled corridor until it came to a dead end.
“A dead end?!” The thief-turned-bard quickly stripped off her backpack and began looking for any hidden levers or secret doors. Totally engrossed in her search, Delisha did not hear the sounds of the approaching undead until it was too late.
Unearthly moans and the sound of shuffling feet from behind set Delisha’s hair on end. Spinning around quickly she caught only a brief glimpse of the zombies closing in on her, before their horrible stench forced the young bard to her knees retching out of control.
The undead were all around her. Their icy fingers sending waves of unbearable pain into her tender flesh. Fighting hard just to remain conscious, Delisha slashed weakly at the rotting creatures surrounding her, trying to drive them back, but she could not. The young bard fell limp to the stone floor, warm food for the hungry undead.
Yet, when Delisha regained consciousness a few moments later, all the zombies were dead, hacked into little pieces, and the crazy boy Zack was leaning against the wall cleaning his sword. Noticing Delisha had awakened; the blonde-haired boy smiled his wide demonic smile and spoke.
“She who owns my soul,” rasped his dark voice again, “Sing for Zack, feed me with your sad songs”.
No hesitation this time, Delisha’s deep, heartrending harmonics echoed throughout ancient catacombs soothing and calming the young soldier. Mesmerized by her dark enchanting melody, the crazy boy sat down, his back against the wall, and was soon fast asleep.
“This is the second time this crazy boy has saved my life this week!”
Delisha trembled; the stark reality of her situation sent a cold shiver through her tiny frame. Back in Port Slather she had always been alone, she needed no one, she liked it that way, however, out in these new harsh lands…
Beginning another song, Delisha’s mind whirled, measuring the pros and cons of teaming up with the crazy, young soldier, Zack.
“HE’S OUT OF HIS MIND, SCARY CRAZY!”
“I will not survive on my own in these wild, new lands”.
“NO… REALLY! HE’S CRAZY!”
“He will never cheat on me, or lie to me, or hurt me, or treat me bad, ever!”
“YOU KNOW HE'S CRAZY, RIGHT?”
“He’s gonna follow me and watch out for me anyway”.
“HE'S TOTALLY, INCURABLY INSANE!”
“He asks only that I sing to him… nothing else does he take or expect.”
“WHAT ABOUT HIM BEING CRAZY”
“He loves me with all his black soul and has already saved me twice”
“CRAZY AS A FREAKIN’ LOON!”
“He is a strong and powerful fighter, who will protect me with his life!”
Three weeks later, the young Bard, Delisha and her Blackguard companion, Zack, boarded a small schooner bound for the harsh and brutal lands of Eternal Destiny.
As the fates would have it, the Fury Guild House stood empty… awaiting a strong and charismatic leader to again full its stonewalls with the shouts of victory and under Delisha’s aggressive leadership the ranks of Fury swelled. But with constant threat of the Goody-Goody Guilds banding together to challenge the Fury Guild for dominance of Eternal Destiny, Delisha made some hard fast decisions.
The Fury guild needed to learn how to fight player versus player and they needed to recruit more members into their Guild Hall on Eternal Destiny. To this cause Delisha and Zack accompanied Annabelle Thunderfist and Higdish Slowhand to the Player versus Player world of Neversummer4… to learn how to fight… and how to build… from some of the very best.
at your service,
DZ
Last edited by Delisha Zrazorian on Tue Aug 24, 2010 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My attitude toward men who mess around is simple: If you find 'em, kill 'em!
-
Delisha Zrazorian
- Newbie Helper
- Posts: 335
- Joined: Tue Jun 29, 2010 6:08 am
Re: Fury Guild Recruiting Office – Open for Business
Fury Guild Recruiting Office – Open for Business
As you enter the Fury Guild’s recruiting office, a young woman dressed in skintight black leather moves gracefully from behind her ebony carved desk to greet you. Tiny silver skulls dangling from her black leather choker and wide leather belt make tiny tinkling sounds whenever she moves.
Behind her, motionless in the shadows stands a big, blond warrior clad in black bloodstained chain mail, a massive ebony blade at his side... his eye sockets empty pools of darkness... Zackariah Mueller!
Masking her emotions, Fury’s Guild Leader skillfully scrutinizes you, taking extensive mental notes of her “first impressions”.
Suddenly a wide, friendly smile appears, and the woman begins to speak, her voice deep, rich and emotional.
“Greetings and welcome!”
“Please allow me to introduce myself; I am Delisha Zrazorian, Leader of the Fury Guild on the World of Neversummer
“Over the next several months, the Fury Guild will be recruiting new members. I am always on the lookout for an outstanding personality, who can be trusted to handle some “delicate” assignments for the Fury organization.”
“Unlike many of the other Guilds in the Persistent Universe, however, which open their doors to any and all who apply, I seek only the elite as members of my Guild.”
“ I would prefer an empty Guild House to one filled with lazy slackers and senseless idiots.”
“To me, a single exceptional individual is worth more than one hundred weak-minded, undedicated fools. Enthusiasm and total commitment are the key attributes needed to becoming a successful member of the Fury Guild.”
“I demand absolute and unconditional loyalty to the Guild. My commands are to be obeyed without question!”
Her eyes now daggers of deepest obsidian, Delisha reaches down and picks up a small silver bell from the top of her desk, giving it a single shake. Seconds later, the main doors swing open and two Succubi enter the room dragging between them a sobbing young Cleric of St. Cuthbert.
Her snow-white robes now stained a bloody pink from the whip and the flail; the young acolyte is pulled in front of the huge Blackguard Zack, and forced to her knees before him…
Zechariah takes a long, deep breathe, filling his entire being with the essence of her fear, fully enjoying the tantalizing aroma of her raw terror, sword-hand twitching in anticipation.
Again moving in uncomfortably close to you, her hot breath on your ear, the Fury’s Guild Leader snarls in a voice just above whisper… “Now witness what will happen to you, should you ever betray me!”
“Zack!”
Eyes wide in terror, the young Cleric opens her mouth to scream… Yet only the sound of gurgling blood reaches your ears; Zack’s ebony blade already returned to its scabbard before her pretty, young head bounces across the floor.
Then Zackariah Mueller laughs… A hideous, bloodcurdling reverberation that would send cold fear creeping down the spine of the most seasoned veteran… the cruel, horrifying laughter of the criminally insane!
Backing slowly away from you, a wide smile now returning to her pretty face, Fury’s new, ambitious, young Guild Leader continues… looking you square in the eyes as she speaks.
“So, do you have what it takes to become a Fury member?”
“Indeed, the initiation process into the Fury Guild is long and arduous, filled with danger and intrigue, and certainly not for the weak or squeamish.”
“Are you that one-in-a-thousand, strong enough, smart enough and brave enough to be allowed entrance to the Fury Guild?”
“Do not lie to yourself… If you’re not an elite… then do not waste my time!”
“However, should you truly believe you have what it takes to become a member of Fury…”
Contact me…
Delisha Zrazorian - Fury Guild Leader
As you enter the Fury Guild’s recruiting office, a young woman dressed in skintight black leather moves gracefully from behind her ebony carved desk to greet you. Tiny silver skulls dangling from her black leather choker and wide leather belt make tiny tinkling sounds whenever she moves.
Behind her, motionless in the shadows stands a big, blond warrior clad in black bloodstained chain mail, a massive ebony blade at his side... his eye sockets empty pools of darkness... Zackariah Mueller!
Masking her emotions, Fury’s Guild Leader skillfully scrutinizes you, taking extensive mental notes of her “first impressions”.
Suddenly a wide, friendly smile appears, and the woman begins to speak, her voice deep, rich and emotional.
“Greetings and welcome!”
“Please allow me to introduce myself; I am Delisha Zrazorian, Leader of the Fury Guild on the World of Neversummer
“Over the next several months, the Fury Guild will be recruiting new members. I am always on the lookout for an outstanding personality, who can be trusted to handle some “delicate” assignments for the Fury organization.”
“Unlike many of the other Guilds in the Persistent Universe, however, which open their doors to any and all who apply, I seek only the elite as members of my Guild.”
“ I would prefer an empty Guild House to one filled with lazy slackers and senseless idiots.”
“To me, a single exceptional individual is worth more than one hundred weak-minded, undedicated fools. Enthusiasm and total commitment are the key attributes needed to becoming a successful member of the Fury Guild.”
“I demand absolute and unconditional loyalty to the Guild. My commands are to be obeyed without question!”
Her eyes now daggers of deepest obsidian, Delisha reaches down and picks up a small silver bell from the top of her desk, giving it a single shake. Seconds later, the main doors swing open and two Succubi enter the room dragging between them a sobbing young Cleric of St. Cuthbert.
Her snow-white robes now stained a bloody pink from the whip and the flail; the young acolyte is pulled in front of the huge Blackguard Zack, and forced to her knees before him…
Zechariah takes a long, deep breathe, filling his entire being with the essence of her fear, fully enjoying the tantalizing aroma of her raw terror, sword-hand twitching in anticipation.
Again moving in uncomfortably close to you, her hot breath on your ear, the Fury’s Guild Leader snarls in a voice just above whisper… “Now witness what will happen to you, should you ever betray me!”
“Zack!”
Eyes wide in terror, the young Cleric opens her mouth to scream… Yet only the sound of gurgling blood reaches your ears; Zack’s ebony blade already returned to its scabbard before her pretty, young head bounces across the floor.
Then Zackariah Mueller laughs… A hideous, bloodcurdling reverberation that would send cold fear creeping down the spine of the most seasoned veteran… the cruel, horrifying laughter of the criminally insane!
Backing slowly away from you, a wide smile now returning to her pretty face, Fury’s new, ambitious, young Guild Leader continues… looking you square in the eyes as she speaks.
“So, do you have what it takes to become a Fury member?”
“Indeed, the initiation process into the Fury Guild is long and arduous, filled with danger and intrigue, and certainly not for the weak or squeamish.”
“Are you that one-in-a-thousand, strong enough, smart enough and brave enough to be allowed entrance to the Fury Guild?”
“Do not lie to yourself… If you’re not an elite… then do not waste my time!”
“However, should you truly believe you have what it takes to become a member of Fury…”
Contact me…
Delisha Zrazorian - Fury Guild Leader
My attitude toward men who mess around is simple: If you find 'em, kill 'em!
-
Delisha Zrazorian
- Newbie Helper
- Posts: 335
- Joined: Tue Jun 29, 2010 6:08 am
Re: Delisha's Magical Guitar
Delisha’s Magical Guitar
A Wishing Well
Delisha slipped silently from her room, taking extra care not to awaken the crazy boy
Zack. Once outside the Inn, she moved quickly through the shadowed streets, then out the
city gates, into the bright moonlit night.
She needed some time alone, some time to think.
After walking several miles lost in thought, the young bard happened upon an old, crumbling
well; Delisha paused for a moment, leaning up against the ancient bricks and took out her lyre.
Soon her strong, nimble fingers were twisting and bending her lyre strings making them
cry out in mournful, harmonic discord. Lost in the soulful agony of her baleful ballad,
Delisha’s deep, melancholic voice filled the night with a sad and haunting melody of treachery
and betrayal. Launching into her lyre solo, she tortured the taunt-strung catguts forcing them
to moan and wail to her will!
SNAP! SNAP! SPRANG! SPRANG! CRACK!
“Noooooo… Nooooooo”, Delisha whispered in disbelief. Tears cascaded down her
cheeks, splashing into the ancient waters below. “No fixing the old lyre this time, it was
broken beyond repair”. Sobbing an inaudible wish under her breath, Delisha let the broken
instrument fall from her trembling hands down into the darkness. Splash! With sad sigh, the
young bard left the old well and returned to the Inn.
Throughout the following day, Delisha canvassed all the local merchants and shops in
and around the city looking for a used lyre to replace her broken one, but with no success.
Just before dusk, however, she overheard some travelers talking about a new merchant who
had just arrived in the area; his camp was somewhere west of the town.
Several hours later Zack and Delisha arrived at their destination. Entering the shadows just outside the
campfire’s flickering light, Zack suddenly smiled wide, leaned up against an old Maple tree
and closed his eyes as if the bard were singing to him. He seemed completely contented.
“Probably better if you stay here, anyway”, Delisha thought to herself, and walked out
into the firelight.
“I’m looking for a good used lyre”, Delisha stated flatly, seeing no reason for formalities.
“Well you’ve come to the right place, honey”, the short, pock-faced merchant
leered, “I’s got just what ya need.” Rummaging through his wagon, the greasy-haired trader
quickly produced a used lyre much like the one Delisha had broken and pitched down the old
well.
“Give it try, sweetie”, the trader grinned, showing off rotten yellow teeth. His beady
little eyes glistening like a rat in the firelight.
“Nothing special about this old lyre”, Delisha quickly concluded, “but the instrument
was well made”. “How much?” The young bard questioned, thinking that 25 gold pieces
would be a fair price, he’d probably ask twice that.
Scratching his dirty beard, the merchant paused for a long moment and then
replied “special price, just for you darling, only 100 gold pieces".
Delisha’s eyes went wide in disbelief, “100 gold pieces? That old lyre’s not worth half
that, and you know it!”
“Take it or leave it”, the scruffy trader growled back.
“I’ll have to leave it then”, Delisha said bluntly, standing to go.
“Now… now… just wait a minute”, the lusty merchant half-whispered,
“Perhaps we could work out some kind of trade?” Licking his cracked lips, the sleazy trader
moved close to the young bard.
“You ain’t nothin’ but skin and bones”, the smelly little man
drooled, running a rough, stubby finger down the bard’s left cheekbone, “but still, the nights
do get cold in these parts…”
Delisha stiffened, setting her resolve. She’d given herself for less than this.
When they first arrived, Zack had been completely mesmerized the morbid,
subliminal harmonics emanating from the traders tent, but awakened from his light trance
when Delisha began playing the lyre.
Now, the crazy boy stood just outside the firelight
watching the situation unfold, a confused look on his face, as if he were trying to solve some
complex puzzle. When the grubby little man touched Delisha’s cheek, his puzzled look
changed to a wide smile.
Immediately, Zack strode out into the firelight, his insane laughter
shattering the quiet night. Spinning around in fear, the chubby merchant reached clumsily for
the dagger at his belt. Laughing louder still, Zack stepped forward and plunged his dark blade
through the lecherous trader’s heart.
Mouth hanging open in total surprise, Delisha blinked several times trying to
comprehend what had just happened. The young bard stood in motionless stunned silence,
while the blond boy entered the dead traders tent.
Zack returned with a black, leather guitar case and dropping to one knee, the
Blackguard offered up his prize. Opening the leather case reveled a magnificent golden guitar with blood red strings.
Delisha’s eyes opened wide in shock and disbelief.
She’d heard the Ballad of Solomon’s Sorrow, but before now she always believed it to be
a myth.
Solomon's Sorrow
Bartholomew Solomon was a happy man; the robust, foot-tapping, delightful melodies,
that were the bard’s trademark, reflected the joyful soul of Bartholomew Solomon. The Royal
Bard was Bartholomew, appointed by the King himself after one dazzling performance seven
years, hence. The Lords and Ladies of the court adored Bartholomew and his happy music.
At home his beautiful adoring wife, Rachel and their lovely, newborn daughter, Kristina,
completed his perfect contented life.
Although his skills were second to few, Bartholomew would be the first to admit that
much his success was due to his Golden Guitar, and he always gave thanks to his Great
grandfather who had commissioned the magical instrument. Intricately carved and crafted from
the ancient hipbone of a long-dead golden dragon, the guitar was finely strung with enchanted
golden strings producing wonderful joyous tones and delightful harmonics that were second to
none. Indeed, Bartholomew Solomon was a happy man.
Marot Ja’Rocky was not a happy man. Enraged by years of defeat at the hands
of Solomon, and obsessed with insatiable desire to have the Golden Guitar for his own, the
disgruntled JaRocky hired a Hedge Mage to help him steal the magical instrument from the
Royal Bard. The evil little Mage summoned a Quasit from the Plane of Pandemonium, and
then opened a portal from Ja’Rocky’s living room to the Solomon wine cellar. Instructions
given to the Quasit were very explicit: become invisible, sneak around the Solomon mansion
until you find the magical guitar, steal it and return through the portal, nothing more!
One small problem existed, however, for unbeknownst to both Ja’Rocky and the
Hedge Mage, Bartholomew and his magical guitar were not at home. The Royal Bard was at a
homecoming party for his best friend Jordan de’Chronde, a few houses down the road from
the Solomon estate. Jordan de’Chronde, his intense magical schooling finally finished, returned
home with the impressive rank of High Wizard.
The little Quasit, Scragg, followed his orders precisely, quickly searching every
inch of the large estate, but upon not finding the prize he sought, the little demon became
confused, what was he to do? Returning empty-handed would bring pain from the wizard
who summoned him; the little demon knew that for sure, so he would have to wait. Scragg
hoped he didn’t have to too long; he was getting hungry.
By the time the homecoming party was breaking up, a dark, blood-red moon was high in
the sky. Jordan offered to escort Bartholomew home and the semi-sober bard gladly accepted.
Reminiscing about times gone past, and reflecting upon what the future might hold, the two
friends walked leisurely enjoying the warm night air. “I’m hungry” Jordan announced as they
reached their destination, “I never did have dinner”
Scragg found his dinner about a half an hour before the bard arrived home, and
was nearly finished when the human woman walked in on him screaming in horror. Her face a
mask of utter repulsion, the woman suddenly stumbled and pitched forward, her heart
bursting before she hit the nursery floor. The agonizing scream of terror battered
Bartholomew as he opened his front door. Instantly sober, the two friends bolted up the
stairs toward the origin of the dreadful shriek.
Heavy footsteps alerted the little Quasit of the returning bard and his companion.
Turning invisible, Scragg jumped nimbly from the child’s bloody crib and hid silently behind
the nursery’s open door. Howling in agony, Bartholomew rushed to his wife’s fallen body.
He kneeled briefly by his beloved Rachel before springing up and rushing toward the crib. The
bloody sight that filled his tear-filled eyes crushed the bard’s immortal soul! Sorrow gushed
through Bartholomew’s veins like a dark, deadly poison. His heartbreaking wails of despair
reverberated throughout the mansion and out into the darkness.
Like a man in a trance, Bartholomew rose slowly to his feet. Tears tumbling down his
cheeks the heartbroken bard picked up his wife’s lifeless body and placed it gently on top the
bloody crib. Grabbing a near-by torch from the wall, he lit the funeral pyre. Jordan made no
move to stop his friend; the stone floor and walls would contain the blaze. When the searing
flames reached their peak, Scragg made his move to escape. The Quasit quickly slipped from
behind the door toward freedom, but Jordan’s powerful magic found and caged Scragg before
he’d moved two feet.
“Here is the murderer”, Jordan hissed, tightening the magical bonds that held the
struggling little demon. Scragg screamed out in terror!
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Bartholomew turned and stared at the Quasit, an almost
quizzical look on his face. “Why?” “Why?” The hapless bard questioned, slowly approaching
the tiny fiend.
“No hurt Scragg”, the little demon pleaded, “Scragg get guitar for Master, but
Scragg no can find, so Scragg wait, but Scragg get hungry”…
“MY GUITAR!” Bartholomew screamed out in unmitigated agony, “You killed my
family for my guitar?!” Eyes wild, the Royal Bard ripped the magical strings from his Golden
Guitar and pitched them unceremoniously onto the burning pyre. Holding the ancient dragon
bone high above his head, Bartholomew screamed to the heavens!
“That I may play the sorrow that fills my soul, we will string this guitar with live demon
gut!”
The little Quasit blanched white. Moving downstairs to the kitchen, Jordan
staked little Scragg spread-eagled to the oaken chopping block, a magical “nail” in each hand
and foot. Scragg screamed out in agonizing pain.
One quick slash of the knife opened up the little demons belly exposing his
immortal entrails, thus the grisly process began. Throughout the long night, a hideous wail of
untold suffering echoed throughout the smoke-filled mansion.
The task finally completed, Jordan placed the little Quasit back in his magical
cage and carried him down stairs into the wine cellar. . “Ah, you entered through that”, Jordan
stated flatly, tossing the screaming demon back into the glimmering portal.
“Bamorfasol”, the High Wizard thundered! A blazing ball of magical fire leapt
from Jordan’s fingertips following the little Quasit into the portal like a burning sun of
destruction. Death screams echoing from the portals other end confirmed his spells success!
Much to his dismay, however, when Jordan returned from the wine cellar, his dear,
brokenhearted friend Bartholomew Solomon and his Guitar of Sorrow were gone. For the next
several decades, rumors floated down from the high mountains of a lonely bard, playing sad
haunting melodies, but the reports were never confirmed.
Centuries passed and the Golden Guitar with its moaning blood-red strings of sorrow
was all but forgotten… until now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The blond boy smiled one of his wild, crazy smiles, stepped over the dead
trader’s body and lay down at Delisha’s feet. “She who owns my soul, sing for Zack”.
DZ
A Wishing Well
Delisha slipped silently from her room, taking extra care not to awaken the crazy boy
Zack. Once outside the Inn, she moved quickly through the shadowed streets, then out the
city gates, into the bright moonlit night.
She needed some time alone, some time to think.
After walking several miles lost in thought, the young bard happened upon an old, crumbling
well; Delisha paused for a moment, leaning up against the ancient bricks and took out her lyre.
Soon her strong, nimble fingers were twisting and bending her lyre strings making them
cry out in mournful, harmonic discord. Lost in the soulful agony of her baleful ballad,
Delisha’s deep, melancholic voice filled the night with a sad and haunting melody of treachery
and betrayal. Launching into her lyre solo, she tortured the taunt-strung catguts forcing them
to moan and wail to her will!
SNAP! SNAP! SPRANG! SPRANG! CRACK!
“Noooooo… Nooooooo”, Delisha whispered in disbelief. Tears cascaded down her
cheeks, splashing into the ancient waters below. “No fixing the old lyre this time, it was
broken beyond repair”. Sobbing an inaudible wish under her breath, Delisha let the broken
instrument fall from her trembling hands down into the darkness. Splash! With sad sigh, the
young bard left the old well and returned to the Inn.
Throughout the following day, Delisha canvassed all the local merchants and shops in
and around the city looking for a used lyre to replace her broken one, but with no success.
Just before dusk, however, she overheard some travelers talking about a new merchant who
had just arrived in the area; his camp was somewhere west of the town.
Several hours later Zack and Delisha arrived at their destination. Entering the shadows just outside the
campfire’s flickering light, Zack suddenly smiled wide, leaned up against an old Maple tree
and closed his eyes as if the bard were singing to him. He seemed completely contented.
“Probably better if you stay here, anyway”, Delisha thought to herself, and walked out
into the firelight.
“I’m looking for a good used lyre”, Delisha stated flatly, seeing no reason for formalities.
“Well you’ve come to the right place, honey”, the short, pock-faced merchant
leered, “I’s got just what ya need.” Rummaging through his wagon, the greasy-haired trader
quickly produced a used lyre much like the one Delisha had broken and pitched down the old
well.
“Give it try, sweetie”, the trader grinned, showing off rotten yellow teeth. His beady
little eyes glistening like a rat in the firelight.
“Nothing special about this old lyre”, Delisha quickly concluded, “but the instrument
was well made”. “How much?” The young bard questioned, thinking that 25 gold pieces
would be a fair price, he’d probably ask twice that.
Scratching his dirty beard, the merchant paused for a long moment and then
replied “special price, just for you darling, only 100 gold pieces".
Delisha’s eyes went wide in disbelief, “100 gold pieces? That old lyre’s not worth half
that, and you know it!”
“Take it or leave it”, the scruffy trader growled back.
“I’ll have to leave it then”, Delisha said bluntly, standing to go.
“Now… now… just wait a minute”, the lusty merchant half-whispered,
“Perhaps we could work out some kind of trade?” Licking his cracked lips, the sleazy trader
moved close to the young bard.
“You ain’t nothin’ but skin and bones”, the smelly little man
drooled, running a rough, stubby finger down the bard’s left cheekbone, “but still, the nights
do get cold in these parts…”
Delisha stiffened, setting her resolve. She’d given herself for less than this.
When they first arrived, Zack had been completely mesmerized the morbid,
subliminal harmonics emanating from the traders tent, but awakened from his light trance
when Delisha began playing the lyre.
Now, the crazy boy stood just outside the firelight
watching the situation unfold, a confused look on his face, as if he were trying to solve some
complex puzzle. When the grubby little man touched Delisha’s cheek, his puzzled look
changed to a wide smile.
Immediately, Zack strode out into the firelight, his insane laughter
shattering the quiet night. Spinning around in fear, the chubby merchant reached clumsily for
the dagger at his belt. Laughing louder still, Zack stepped forward and plunged his dark blade
through the lecherous trader’s heart.
Mouth hanging open in total surprise, Delisha blinked several times trying to
comprehend what had just happened. The young bard stood in motionless stunned silence,
while the blond boy entered the dead traders tent.
Zack returned with a black, leather guitar case and dropping to one knee, the
Blackguard offered up his prize. Opening the leather case reveled a magnificent golden guitar with blood red strings.
Delisha’s eyes opened wide in shock and disbelief.
She’d heard the Ballad of Solomon’s Sorrow, but before now she always believed it to be
a myth.
Solomon's Sorrow
Bartholomew Solomon was a happy man; the robust, foot-tapping, delightful melodies,
that were the bard’s trademark, reflected the joyful soul of Bartholomew Solomon. The Royal
Bard was Bartholomew, appointed by the King himself after one dazzling performance seven
years, hence. The Lords and Ladies of the court adored Bartholomew and his happy music.
At home his beautiful adoring wife, Rachel and their lovely, newborn daughter, Kristina,
completed his perfect contented life.
Although his skills were second to few, Bartholomew would be the first to admit that
much his success was due to his Golden Guitar, and he always gave thanks to his Great
grandfather who had commissioned the magical instrument. Intricately carved and crafted from
the ancient hipbone of a long-dead golden dragon, the guitar was finely strung with enchanted
golden strings producing wonderful joyous tones and delightful harmonics that were second to
none. Indeed, Bartholomew Solomon was a happy man.
Marot Ja’Rocky was not a happy man. Enraged by years of defeat at the hands
of Solomon, and obsessed with insatiable desire to have the Golden Guitar for his own, the
disgruntled JaRocky hired a Hedge Mage to help him steal the magical instrument from the
Royal Bard. The evil little Mage summoned a Quasit from the Plane of Pandemonium, and
then opened a portal from Ja’Rocky’s living room to the Solomon wine cellar. Instructions
given to the Quasit were very explicit: become invisible, sneak around the Solomon mansion
until you find the magical guitar, steal it and return through the portal, nothing more!
One small problem existed, however, for unbeknownst to both Ja’Rocky and the
Hedge Mage, Bartholomew and his magical guitar were not at home. The Royal Bard was at a
homecoming party for his best friend Jordan de’Chronde, a few houses down the road from
the Solomon estate. Jordan de’Chronde, his intense magical schooling finally finished, returned
home with the impressive rank of High Wizard.
The little Quasit, Scragg, followed his orders precisely, quickly searching every
inch of the large estate, but upon not finding the prize he sought, the little demon became
confused, what was he to do? Returning empty-handed would bring pain from the wizard
who summoned him; the little demon knew that for sure, so he would have to wait. Scragg
hoped he didn’t have to too long; he was getting hungry.
By the time the homecoming party was breaking up, a dark, blood-red moon was high in
the sky. Jordan offered to escort Bartholomew home and the semi-sober bard gladly accepted.
Reminiscing about times gone past, and reflecting upon what the future might hold, the two
friends walked leisurely enjoying the warm night air. “I’m hungry” Jordan announced as they
reached their destination, “I never did have dinner”
Scragg found his dinner about a half an hour before the bard arrived home, and
was nearly finished when the human woman walked in on him screaming in horror. Her face a
mask of utter repulsion, the woman suddenly stumbled and pitched forward, her heart
bursting before she hit the nursery floor. The agonizing scream of terror battered
Bartholomew as he opened his front door. Instantly sober, the two friends bolted up the
stairs toward the origin of the dreadful shriek.
Heavy footsteps alerted the little Quasit of the returning bard and his companion.
Turning invisible, Scragg jumped nimbly from the child’s bloody crib and hid silently behind
the nursery’s open door. Howling in agony, Bartholomew rushed to his wife’s fallen body.
He kneeled briefly by his beloved Rachel before springing up and rushing toward the crib. The
bloody sight that filled his tear-filled eyes crushed the bard’s immortal soul! Sorrow gushed
through Bartholomew’s veins like a dark, deadly poison. His heartbreaking wails of despair
reverberated throughout the mansion and out into the darkness.
Like a man in a trance, Bartholomew rose slowly to his feet. Tears tumbling down his
cheeks the heartbroken bard picked up his wife’s lifeless body and placed it gently on top the
bloody crib. Grabbing a near-by torch from the wall, he lit the funeral pyre. Jordan made no
move to stop his friend; the stone floor and walls would contain the blaze. When the searing
flames reached their peak, Scragg made his move to escape. The Quasit quickly slipped from
behind the door toward freedom, but Jordan’s powerful magic found and caged Scragg before
he’d moved two feet.
“Here is the murderer”, Jordan hissed, tightening the magical bonds that held the
struggling little demon. Scragg screamed out in terror!
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Bartholomew turned and stared at the Quasit, an almost
quizzical look on his face. “Why?” “Why?” The hapless bard questioned, slowly approaching
the tiny fiend.
“No hurt Scragg”, the little demon pleaded, “Scragg get guitar for Master, but
Scragg no can find, so Scragg wait, but Scragg get hungry”…
“MY GUITAR!” Bartholomew screamed out in unmitigated agony, “You killed my
family for my guitar?!” Eyes wild, the Royal Bard ripped the magical strings from his Golden
Guitar and pitched them unceremoniously onto the burning pyre. Holding the ancient dragon
bone high above his head, Bartholomew screamed to the heavens!
“That I may play the sorrow that fills my soul, we will string this guitar with live demon
gut!”
The little Quasit blanched white. Moving downstairs to the kitchen, Jordan
staked little Scragg spread-eagled to the oaken chopping block, a magical “nail” in each hand
and foot. Scragg screamed out in agonizing pain.
One quick slash of the knife opened up the little demons belly exposing his
immortal entrails, thus the grisly process began. Throughout the long night, a hideous wail of
untold suffering echoed throughout the smoke-filled mansion.
The task finally completed, Jordan placed the little Quasit back in his magical
cage and carried him down stairs into the wine cellar. . “Ah, you entered through that”, Jordan
stated flatly, tossing the screaming demon back into the glimmering portal.
“Bamorfasol”, the High Wizard thundered! A blazing ball of magical fire leapt
from Jordan’s fingertips following the little Quasit into the portal like a burning sun of
destruction. Death screams echoing from the portals other end confirmed his spells success!
Much to his dismay, however, when Jordan returned from the wine cellar, his dear,
brokenhearted friend Bartholomew Solomon and his Guitar of Sorrow were gone. For the next
several decades, rumors floated down from the high mountains of a lonely bard, playing sad
haunting melodies, but the reports were never confirmed.
Centuries passed and the Golden Guitar with its moaning blood-red strings of sorrow
was all but forgotten… until now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The blond boy smiled one of his wild, crazy smiles, stepped over the dead
trader’s body and lay down at Delisha’s feet. “She who owns my soul, sing for Zack”.
DZ
My attitude toward men who mess around is simple: If you find 'em, kill 'em!