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A letter of thanks - Labyrinthe Forum
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> A letter of thanks
post Jun 18 2010, 11:33 AM
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To whom it may concern

I have recently had the pleasure of standing shield-to-shield with a member of your ranks, a man called Dusk.

I would like it to be known he at all times proved himself to be be a competent warrior, excellent in his many duties and vocal of his beliefs.

Exemplary in every respect.

Vellian
Of Border

***

Dear all

I'd like to second what my brother said: Dusk is a top bloke. If not for him, then I'd probably still be stuck in that tavern fighting nightmares. I don't have many friends and I reackon I'm lucky to have him as a comrade.

You should defo pay him more

Cheers

Raffles
Also of Border
But a bit less so.
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Carlo
post Jun 19 2010, 09:48 AM
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I've not met him yet, but thank you for your kind words chaps.

I don't pay my Church. The rewards are far greater, stories, tales and actions of those both dead and living speak for themselves, as does this Dusk you speak of.

The point is, we don't do these things for thanks or credit. All we ask is that these things are remmebered and noted, such that those in the future can learn from what has gone.

If you want to thank Dusk, write down his tale, and speak it so others may learn what has made him a great man. The religion isn't all about the Dead heroes you know. The live ones are just as important.

For the Land. For the People. For the Empire.

Andric
Former Lord Knight
High Priest of Dead Heroes






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post Jun 19 2010, 09:12 PM
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Andric

My brother has some talent in spinning tales. When he is feeling more lucid, I will "encourage" him to set out a tale concerning Dusk and his vanquishing of the Altar to Dunatis.

Vellian
Of Border

***

Dear Andric, I mean your Eminence

Blimey! What a lot of titles you have, your Grace.

Anywho, I did write down his tale, in this book what me and Razia kept from the Scriptor. Which pretty much guarantees that other people will see his tale someday, if past events are anything to go by. Fact is, I wanted you to know if that's alright. The boy done you proud - what with his tales of others to inspire us through some long nights (although one of em did get me into an unfortunate drinking competion with Ulric) - I was just saying.

Yours respectfully

Raffles
No Fixed Abode
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post Jun 22 2010, 08:52 AM
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***
Andric

Sorry. I tried.

Vellian
Of Border
***

Your worshipfulness

This here is Dusk's tale. What I can remember it anyway - my memory isn't what it was, following a head wound I picked up in Sellaville. There might have been a few less priests and a few more nightmares. I'm pretty sure there was a Dragon involved at somepoint too...

Yours respectfully

Raffles

***
Dusk surveyed the scene; fifty of the priests of Dunatis lay slain at and around his feet, most of his companions were dead or unconscious and they were still no closer to the alter. From the far side of a small copse of trees, he could see the brothers Rapheal and Vellian still fighting a bitter battle with two or three of the Nightmares they had all come to hate so much. The brothers had accounted themselves well, with a pile of creatures slain to almost match Dusk's own tally, almost.

He reached down and gently released Rose and Razia's grip from his legs, reassuring them as he did so, but it was clear that they were still shaking in fear from the recent attack. Free of their grasp, he stroud quickly to help the brothers in arms, but was stopped short by the reappearance of Rus:
"Dusk... I don't know how you did it, but you saved us!" He managed through rasping breaths, desperately trying to draw air into his lungs following all the running he had been forced to do. Hands on hips, Dusk let out a loud, easy laugh:
"Not all, my friend, we all did our part," he said, his voice booming across the field
"You're too modest," Rus began, but was cut short as his chest errupted in blood. Behind him a high priest of dunatis retrieved the dagger he had so cruelly thrust into the priest of Shaehan and cackled madly:
"Rus... NO! I'll send you to the hells for that!" Dusk roared with rage, his mace whistled with righteous fury caving in the priests head who was dead before he hit the ground. Dusk dropped to his knees and cradled Rus's lifeless head in his arms:
"I will avenge you my friend," he said, staring into the sunset: "I swear it".

"He's dead? Damm, I was hoping for some kind of a cure - I seem to have been scratched on the arm." It was Rapheal's voice that interrupted Dusk's mourning. He looked up - and could hardly believe what he saw. Rapheal was bleeding from a thousand different wounds, a veritable river of blood. The beggar sat down heavily, his eyes drifting out of focus:
"I think you might have to go on alone old chum," Rapheal managed "I seem to have over exherted myself," and so saying, fell backwards. For a moment Dusk worried that it might be more serious, but the spirits reassured him that his raggamuffin friend was only nearly dead, not actually dead.

Dusk stood, determination in his eyes, his jaw set against the enemy he knew he would soon face.
"If I don't make it back," he began
"Dusk no!" managed Rose from his left leg
"You'll be slain!" cried Razia from his right
"If that his how this tale ends, so be it." He replied, his eyes once more locked firmly on the sunset: "Tell my church, that I died as I lived - not a hero, but as a man, a man standing against incredible odds so that his friends might live to tell my story."

He shut the noise of Razia and Rose begging him to stay from his mind and headed to the place he knew the alter of Dunatis was waiting for him. Seeing it for the first time, made him pause: even though they were in the middle of nowhere, the priests who had built this alter had clearly spent a long time in it's construction. It was 20 feet high, big enough at least for for or five men to stand inside and radiated a black malevolent power.

In front, stood a creature that almost defied description. Almost. It was certainly human at one point in it's existence but was now a perversion, warped and corrupted by dark power. Seven feet tall with three, no four arms and legs, covered by a chitinous armour that dripped foul poison. In one of it's right arm was a large bone sword that flickered with black flame, while atop it's head was a crown, the jewels of which looked for all the world to be eyeballs:
"It's true," Dusk whispered to himself "Evil does always find it's true form", he set his jaw firmly, again, and marched towards the abomination. The two foe circled each other in silence for a moment:
"Sssso, Dusk, we meet at last", the creature said, it's voice reeking of putrescence "I look forward to drawing your death out for many days"
"While I look forward to making your death as swift as possible," He retorted. The creature roared and lept forward, it's flaming blade a veritable dervish of destruction. Dusk stood firm, his skill at arms - particularly parrying - was greater than the creatures and they both knew it. He waited for an opening before sending a crashing blow with his mace at the creatures arm. It was satisfyingly squashed under the weight of the blow and the sword fell to the floor.

But if Dusk had hoped the creature would be slowed by the loss of an arm, it was mistaken. It screamed - not in pain but in joy - and leapt forward, smashing away Dusks shield and pinning him to the floor. It lunged at forward, attempting to bight Dusk with the pincers that now appeared in his mouth. Dusk's strength failed him for a second and a pincer penetrated his shoulder - he screamed in pain as the poison coursed through his veins:
"You will die like a dog, Dusk!" The creature hissed triumphantly,
"I won't die like a dog!" Dusk roared with new found strength "I will fight like a lion!" And so saying, snapped off two of the pincers with his bare hands. The creature reared back in pain
"Dusk!" A familiar voice shouted to him from across the clearing - it was Brom. In his hand a long spear, which he threw to his companion before slowly collapsing to the floor, blood pouring from a thousand wounds:
"Rest easy my friend," he said in almost silent prayer "You will not have died in vein".
He charged forward, lancing the creature in the chest and driving it back into its foul building, pinning it to a wall.
"You may have beaten me, Dusk," the creature hissed, but my work will go on - this alter calls to the children of Dunatis - more will come
Dusk stalked from the building:
"We shall see, creature."
He stood before the main door, arms outstretched in supplication:
"Heroes of old, I call on thee," He intoned "Show Dunatis that the weight of history is against him, that his tale in this place is now done!" He raised his faithful mace above his head, around him and in silence twelve spiritual beings arose, their forms obscured by mist. They bowed their heads "We dead heroes, honour you, living hero" they chanted together, before flowing into Dusk's mace.

With a roar of anger mixed with fury, Dusk flung his mace at the alter and it shattered into a thousand tiny shards that in turn rained like glass down on the still living High Priest. It screamed, this time in pain, as it was cut into a fine black mist by the ruins of the alter that fell upon it.

Dusk retrieved his mace and turned to the setting sun giving thankful prayer to those heroes that had helped him. Then he lifted Brom’s lifeless body into his arms and cursed himself for not saving his friend – a true hero would have done, he reflected, but he? He was just a man.

And so Dusk, both man and hero turned and walked stoically down the hill toward his other dead friends, his armour refracting the dying light of the sun. His tale done.
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