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THE INQUISITORS RETURN


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Hate . . . “ Spoke Gamling aloud, alone. A hand bawling into a fist encroached to his head and he spasmed in irritation, drawn from the ire of his heart, a flame that could not be quelled. “Is that all that I am ?

The nephilim cried unto the missive, eyes trailing over the written words at the very bottom of the parchment, penned by the Inquisitor himself, over and over again.

The missive was torn, stepped on.

He cried, he howled in his misery and inability. In the very face of his weakness he raged and he hated as he always had.

Where he failed, he angered, where he desired, he hated.

Gamling was a being of fire, a fount of unbridled emotions, hate, and for that; he cursed his flesh as he did the World.

 

He brought pen to paper in crude fashion, etching a missive of his own for the Inquisitor Eternal, Eluitholnear.

 

“Brother Inquisitor Eluitholnear - know that I will be more than the hate you attribute to me. I will be the fire that sweeps the halls of our foes. I will be the hatred that will drive our spears through their frames and so cast them from this world to Void. So meet me and I will give you my tale and speak boldly of what it means to be fire and show you what it means to behold the very yoke of misery. I will be the Asioth of their nightmares, omnipresent, eternal, unimaginable.

 

- Gamling.”

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Haskir grins wide. "At last." He drawls, tucking the scroll away. Setting off, he went to seek out the Inquisitor Eternal without another word.

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"Woah!" States Lyulen Daemyr

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A paladin frowns :(

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The burned Herald continued to lay malaise in his bandages, as his last words with Allant still shook throughout his head.

 

What is the point? Would it be all for nothing? 

 

What would become of The Herald once set upon the path. What would become of his insatiable lust for gold, women, discovery- Perhaps another ten-thousand years and more to discover the world and plunder it's bountiful riches. Maybe another ten-thousand years of instruction, doubt, and lies atop it. 

 

What if he did consider taking a woman and a boat of gold to explore the vast and infinite seas. What then? For the seas and skies only go so far with forever. What then? Would his purpose be complete? Would he return back to see things change once again? Immortality, the elf was already immortal- immune to punishment, immune to death. 

 

Elu would never strike me. I will never die.

 

Yet what is he missing? Allant's own hypocrisy was yet-so apparent. He wished to not live a lie. Yet he lives within a faux-construct of his own reality. He is in a shadow of his own mistakes, would Junar and Alayris lead their own family to this same damned-path too? Would Sand fulfill what they meant for him? 

 

 

The elf continued to ponder within his shallow bath, the cold riverwater mending his bared olive flesh, looking to the ceiling of Camlannen above. 

 

He'll return soon. I suppose I should figure out what to think quickly.

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In a land far away, a wasteland of snow, a paladin with aheral features hums a song. It could, perhaps, be noted as the tune to "Obsessed" by Mariah Carey. 

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Alistair makes note of the Inquisitor Eternal's return with a smile. 

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Fire-Knight-1024x583.jpg

Through desolate fields of infernal cinder and treachery did ride forth upon steed, one Scorched of the Titan. He took pause upon crease of knoll and released a deep breath after sharing some words with the Inquisitor and rasped forth.

 

"Imprecation be placed upon any whom befall the blade of the Inquisitor."

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Spoiler

 

 

How long had it been since she had known the comfort of her kin? Her rooms were a mess- floors littered with swiftly discarded scraps of paper written in a dark ink, a dozen sketches, a handful of maps. Her years effort, rendered useless due to circumstances outside of her own control. Enlightenment came slowly when clouded by sorrow- the lack of presence of another at her side felt strongly. Perhaps this was why her enchantments and talents were no longer her own- lost twice now in the span of some fifty years, maybe once more to her Father's irritation. Was it possible to capture that spark of divine flame a third time? Would she even be judged worthy by her brothers when her deeds were so occluded behind layers of subtleties and shadows.

 

She gazed deep upon herself in her looking glass, and beheld features that were as foreign to her as Oyashiman wares or Dark Elven rituals. She had lived in so many bodies, had been known by so many names- and now it seemed unlikely she would ever be able to recapture that last scrap of her original humanity, when she had walked the land not as dragonkin, but as Franziska. 

 

Franziska- what did that name even mean now? A legacy left behind in an Empire that seemed determined to forget her good deeds and hard effort. Letters and lovers both lost to time- so many names and faces that now seemed to mesh together in a grand and horrifying amalgamation. There were so few who remembered the name Franziska that it had become just as meaningless as the other faces she had worn- Anna Sibylla, Kameyo, Miralin, Klariel.

 

Would Midnetora become obscure as well? Would her seemingly immortal gift be sundered- left to rot under the heat of the sun that she had been named for? In the form of dragonkin, she had many names as well- Loyal Northern Summer, Dragonmuse, Midne-of-Many-Faces, yet even they who had called her by those epithets as if she were some small god were vanished on the winds, far from her sight.

 

She had lived so long by many names, swapping faces and monikers as easily as her clothes, that all she had done became lost- and for a time she had enjoyed it. She wielded the whisper as well as her brothers wielded their swords, and her tongue had become a formidable weapon to rival any honed blade. But was it satisfactory to leave no legacy behind? To have her deeds be shrouded in mystery and obscura?

 

She gazed once more into the mirror and saw a woman whose name she did not know.

 

Perhaps Eluitholnear would be the one to grant her a new one.

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Amalya heard the commotion from outside the tower, the mere glimpse of him in the square just the night prior.

 

Nothing was said, there was no exchange but the gentle closing of the door.

 

She nearly waited a decade, she could wait a little longer.

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