[PK] Old Folk's Blues

[Elad™ 560]

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GvBbbYcD8o

 

Life, it’s only an experience one can bear for so long. After a while it becomes noise; a blaring sound that shreds the mind. A bad dream one can never wake up from. This is the plight of being eternal, unable to die. Haadi, the-aged-farfolk-made-archon lived with this weight, living beyond his lifetime. When one lives and has no purpose -- nothing else in their life -- they should be no longer. He wanted to die, but could not -- his waking moments pure agony  -- and for that, he scorned his maker. The wretched Primarch that gave him this power.

 

 

---

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3V_ZxRQ4P0

 

He was stricken with sorrow. It is a dangerous thing; it turns to rage, and rage turns to madness.  A symptom the poor man who had made kin and family -- who crafted inventions and led the mage’s guild -- would suffer on, toiling over his muddled thoughts as he trudged through the southern snow fields, his body moving like a younger man -- a lie that he so hated. He wanted to soothe his mind and find peace in the cold but welcoming snow. After a while, the Archmage found himself trekking into a misty forest, where the trees were plentiful and the leaves were sparse.

 

Snow, while the farfolk did not see it too often, held some value to him. The cold and snow symbolized death and change, where things meet their end and something blooms from it. It was fitting he found himself here, someone who wanted to die. He looked for a place to sit, a place where he can relax and feel the cold snow touch him, even if he could not be hurt by frost’s kiss. Traveling, the archmage found a frozen river which had plantlife peak out, albeit miserable looking, but in these conditions -- it still lived, denied death. The mage smiled at this, reaching out his weathered hand to touch it,

 

“I’m just like you, friend.” He whispers to the struggler, crossing the glazed over river. The Archon believed himself alone, save for the rare amount of wildlife that roamed these frigid place. He moved past, using his stave to aid him.

 

 

Finding a large tree, the elder’s baggy eyes glimmered with joy, finding himself seated under the oak’s shade. Cradling his staff, he slowly found rest, only for a little while. He was stirred awake by a man, covered in a tan, studded coat, a respirator, and a hat with linked, beautiful yellow feathers that hung from the side. The stranger was gathering herbs it seems, though he posed no threat.

 

“Didn’t think tha’ would be someone roamin’ these woods.” The old farfolk smiles, to which the man nods, lifting himself after gathering the herb.

 

“It’s prime time. I’d like to get more samples for my garden.”

 

“Gardener?” Piqued brows, Haadi looked the man over, though his mind was thinking of something else. The man who made him like this; someone forced to suffer for eternity.

 

“Nae, Alchemist. Why’re you here, elder?”

 

“Ah…” A smile creases over his aged features, “Out here is a relaxing place, no one bothers ya’, and yer alone with ya’self.”

 

“Seems like you’ve been through a lot.” The Alchemist bows his head, “Call me Klaus.”

 

“Haadi.” The old archon nodded, “An’ I suppose so, mon. My life’s been a spiral ever since I couldn’ age anymore. I want an end, but can’t seem ta’ find it.”

 

“Is that so?” His voice was strange, this Alchemist. There was something familiar about it.

 

“Aye. We’re not meant ta’ live forever, ya’know. Death’s got ta’ come sooner or later, mon.”

 

“That’s very human of you. I’d like to hear your story.” There, there it was again. There was someone who said something similar. An old friend of his, long gone, it seemed. A shame.

 

“There’s a lot ta’ tell. I’ve been alive for nearly three centuries.” The old man brandished a sad, melancholic smile.

 

“Ah, well I’m sure you grew from a sapling to a tree of tales.” That was strange to Haadi, the words sounded like someone else; the thing that cursed him with this life. The old man glared at Klaus, hand tight around his stave.

 

“Who are you?” He spoke with a croak, his eyes glimmering with the eerie purple that his irises became. The man moved his hand to his strap, thumbing it and the projectile weapon on his back.

 

“... just an Alchemist?” Lies. That voice, that phrase. It was something he knew. This man was not who he said he was.

 

“It’s you! The Voidbinder -- that’s who ya’ are, aren’t ya’?” Haadi gritted his teeth, arcane energy surging through his staff. Klaus was silent for a while, tugging off a glove to show his hand covered in bandages.

 

“... I’m not looking for any trouble old man. Be on your way, Mubdee.” His voice was shaky, and his hand was quivering. This was most definitely him, he reacted as he would expect.

 

“No…” The man rose, and sent a magic missile sailing into Klaus’ shoulder, which caused him to reel back and examine his wound.

 

“You cursed me ta’ live like this, you monster. You made me live this horrible life; I’m done with you, and I’m done with this sick game o’ yours. It ends here, demon.” He would end this beast the way it made him, his skin began to sear, veins shattering to spill arcane fluid that tore his body and birthed his arcane form. While he dreaded using it, it was poetic justice to end the fiend with the very power that made him.

 

Though, he did not expect for this thing to have tricks up its sleeve. Klaus did not use magic, instead, after recovering, he darted to the treelines. A foolish maneuver, but what was odd was that that bandaged hand mutated; the bandages loosened and barely hung off the hand and forearm, revealing dark gray skin and pulsating skin, with the fingers turned to chitinous claws.

 

 

---

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6l9ddjD77XU

 

Shrugging it off the sight, Haadi bellowed in a twisted voice, arcane power manifesting through his stave. Rage and a determination to make the creature pay for his suffering was all he could think of.

 

“YOU WILL NOT RUN AWAY. SUFFER AS I HAVE.”

 

And just like that, a steel spike sailed from the treelines -- the use of that ranged weapon -- which slammed into his robe and hide, only delaying the arcane discs he crafted. Even as the acid this bolt kept trickled along the auric skin, the discs surged through the treeline to find Klaus, shattering bark and spraying both snow and wood. He evaded the direct strike, but the blast threw him. Getting up, the Alchemist moved between the treelines, and retaliated with shrapnel based explosives, and smoke pellets that were meant to blind and wound the Archon, but the farfolk had other plans.

 

He used the smoke for cover as he shifted away towards Klaus, but the man seemed prepared -- as though he thought this would happen.

 

The man’s claw lashed out, now the size of a shortsword; his arm appeared more muscular as well. The chitin raked his robes, and made a shallow mark along his the arcane. A blow for a blow, though Klaus already seemed worse off,  bits of the wooden shrapnel were sticking out of his coat, but they didn’t rip through. Haadi reeled back at his own damage, using his staff to ward the Alchemist away, landing a shot to the knee guard to bring him down to a knee, further retaliating by swinging his staff down.

 

This was caught by the claw and the gray arm, which also seemed to be made of chitin, pushed to the side as the man pressed the loaded weapon against Haadi, pulling the firing crank to launch a bolt, but it would only stick into the arcane body. With a growl, the Archon pushed Klaus down and created more distance between, allowing him to charge up a spell, though his hand was the focus point now.

 

He watched his enemy recover, slinking back to the trees and nimbly evading the various arcane missiles and bolts he would create. A bolt sailed from the treeline as he began to charge up, only to be displaced by his stave, cast aside a few meters away. Haadi cackled as he felt the power course through him, unleashed onto Klaus in a flurry of arcane blasts, shrapnel denting poleyns and shredding cloth, force bruising and breaking some bone; and thrown snow blinding vision. He got the man on the ground, crawling through the snow with the all the strength he had. This would end it, Haadi thought as he charged up a powerful spell, a massive beam that would shred through many trees, but Klaus was lucky enough to throw himself to divert the damage and not be obliterated. Cloth was torn and glass cracked, and there was blood leaking from his body.

 

Haadi listened to the shallow breathing from the respirator, and looked between Klaus and the weapon he had. It looked like there was no way for him to evade this. He approached the alchemist, and began to charge up again, making sure Klaus watches as he makes progress with the spell.

 

“Feels bad ta’ die at tha’ hands of your creation, doesn’t it.” The archons speaks with an edge in his voice, hand and stave lifted as arcane sparks arc from his body and proceed to form into a massive, spiked orb. It weared at him as the spell grew larger and larger, but the satisfaction would be worth the mana drain.

 

It was time to kill his maker, or so he thought.

 

Haadi hurled the deadly orb at Klaus, but the man had enough strength to take up his weapon and pull the firing crank. This time, a silvery bolt that was shined oddly was propelled from the device. To Haadi’s surprise, he was tricked by Klaus, making himself appear weaker than he was. The bolt shred through his spell and found its way ripping into his stomach. He slowly looked down at the wound, screaming as arcane blood spilled and the magic form deteriorated, reverting him to flesh, with the bolt lodged in his stomach.

 

 

---

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4lNGz-2TaQ

 

“Damn you...” The archmage cursed Klaus as he dropped his staff and reeled back, blood spattering from the wound, and when he tried to use magic, the bolt appeared to distort it. It was like thanhium, but less deadly and more horrific.

 

“A thousand curses on you, demon. May your life be filled with tha’ sufferin’ I ‘ave faced!” A roar as he drops to a knee, which turned out to bring him to a crawl.

 

“I’ve already been suffering, Haadi.” The cracked and broken respirator rasps, azure eyes now visible from the broken lenses. “I’m sorry…” His claw gripped one of his wounds, where boiling blood spilled, “... it had to be like this, old friend. I didn’t intend for you to go mad.” The man’s voice sounded more like someone he knew. It sounded like his old friend at that point and time.

 

“Ergh…” Haadi slinked away from the slowly rising Alchemist, what was that bolt? How could he do that? What a resolve to struggle; and thankfully, it would lead to his end. To die at the hands of the man he thought his friend; a moment of clarity in his madness.

 

“S’okay, mon. Least I died by you, old friend.” Spitting some blood, he flashed a smile, believing this man to be not the thing that cursed him, but the friend who he struggled with. Rage and madness became things of the past as his wish for the end would come. “But, if I’m going t’die, I’m going ta’ die -” Pain surged along his body as he dragged himself to that frozen river, with Klaus following suit, albeit slowly behind. “- somewhere else.”

 

He remembered his life as he contended with his impending death, with every drop of blood, the old man recalled his beginnings. A young illusionist taught by his father, then gifted odd eyes through an anomaly. He rised through the ranks of the mage’s guild to become the Archmage, and made friends and found a love along the way. He raised a family while being devoted to the arcane, and even when he found himself in darker magics, or divine magics, he had friends who were genuine. Even as an immortal, he lived a happy and over all wholesome life, even with the stress of running the Mage’s Guild and being cursed with this life.

 

Eventually, the dying Archon found himself by that glazed river, and with his fuzzy vision spotting the plant which struggled on, his red stained teeth flashed a smile. He heard his friend’s slow footfalls and labored breathing, though he didn’t pay too much mind to it.

 

“I wasn’t looking t’die like this mon, but it’ll do.” With a chuckle, he reaches out to touch the plant, whispering to it as his vision further blurred and everything grew muffled.

 

“I’m finally going to die, my friend. Struggle on.”  

 

He closed his eyes for that moment, only to be woken by a brilliant light and the sound of churning cogs, a winged machination reached out to take hold of him, it was like those northern stories. A Valkyrie.

 

“Noble craftsman.” A melody played from the machine’s voice, with her hands gripping him tight. “I will bring you to the life after. A clockwork nirvana where you may finally rest.” Haadi accepted, and felt lighter as he was pulled from his body, and flew away with the clockwork Valkyrie. His body, while ravaged, seemed peaceful, his limp hand resting near that enduring plant.

 

http://i.imgur.com/im3vE89.gif

 

Credit to phil/Niv_Mizzet for writing the post.
 

[Guest]

"Peace onto you, student of mine." remarked Ryael, casting his vision to the stars above. 

[Geo 1415]

"Few ever take the initiative to realize they may simply hang up their hat and depart from their duties as a Necromancer peacefully, without violence or bad feelings.  A few very smart, and very noble individuals have done so before, the first of which was an odd fellow named Haadi Mubdee." The old soul said often to his disciples, having fond memories of the man even now, despite his choices in the end.

[firegirl7894523 247]

Carsandra feels the loss of her teacher, though only having meeting him once.

[GDPR 014 48]

Will you do with him like you did the last? The girl you adored?

 

Klaus, bloodied and wound, hunched over Haadi's body. He reached out his hand to settle on the man. "I made him suffer like this, but he will still be used and redeemed of the sins."

 

More of those shots? You'll turn your friend? Wanderer, you've got dedication; or should I call you Struggler?

 

"I would." He affirms, slowly  "Haadi is elsewhere now.  Living a better life than any other." He pulled the body close to him, holding it like a child. "I'm sorry, old friend. We've been through a lot, you and I. The Dark, the light, the curse, and beyond." Lifting the body, he ambles off to his home. 

 

"I will make things right, and you will be the engine for it. Thank you for the memories, old friend. I'll be sure to respect them."

 

He eventually found himself at a hamlet, where he'd find rest for the night, and patch up his wounds, as well as apply the necessary casts and remedies.

 

 

 

 

 

[Luxury 1082]

"A rare breed, a dying breed." Laments a colleague.

[MamaBearJade 2090]

A dark elf forgotten and lost years ago, learns of his passing. A small smile falling across her lips. "Welcome home, my old friend." she whispers.

[Booklight12 481]

Glowing eyes cut through the darkness of an unnamed forest somewhere upon the islands beyond Atlas, familiar eyes as they pierced the darkness of the forest like razors. Connected to Haadi in someway the bearer of these eyes, a modest elf long since forgotten by time trudged along, machete in hand as he hacked away at the underbrush before he was cut off by the sudden urge, memories of a young dark skinned southeron. The elfs mind wandered as he recalled how the lad who he'd consider a son grew up to be the renown wizard he was. Knowledge of Haadis passing had not greeted his ears, yet he knew that Haadi was somewhere he belonged, the elf smiled knowing that the young southern he knew was happy. He continued on chopping at the underbrush as the memories passed.

[gandalfo 1452]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.