Tales from The Outpost

The Little Library of Guildmate Adventures (1997-2000)

Covenant of Blood Tales

Members of the Covenant of Blood (CvB) traveled the lands from Trinsic to Yew, shrouded in mystery as to where they came from or what their purpose here was. Their demeanor was often arrestingly calm and serene but rumors led many believe there was a far more sinister agenda brewing behing their soulless and disarming eyes.

» The Setting of the Sun
» New Beginnings
» 'Makel'

The Setting of the Sun

by Kamir Sang

The setting sun cast it's last feeble rays across the land. Mother's called out to their childer to come in from play.
Fingers of dark shadow crept out, replacing the cheery warmth with their evening chill.

In the dank and musty darkness of the underground crypts a lone figure opened his eyes.

His usually keen mind was in a haze as he clambered out of his resting place. The hunger he felt upon awakening did not greet him.

Collecting his things he prepared to set out for the evening. With his mind awash in confusion he left the crypts and headed towards the abbey.

The short journey to the Abbey tired him. Every step sapping more of his strength. In his confusion, he took no notice.

Upon arriving at this place, once considered holy, he fell to his knees in weakness. He had no more strength to walk.

Slowly lifting his eyes, he saw it. In a brief moment of lucidity he recognized where he was. He stared up at the statuary symbol, the very symbol of eternal life.
He tried to resist, anger swelling in his cold heart, but the dark cloud returned. It descended upon his mind and muddled his thoughts.

Like a thin breeze it began. Swirling the mists holding his mind. Brief glimpses of faces, cold and dead. The sounds of names spoken in mourning by those survived.
They continued, each one stronger and more vibrant than the next. Until he could see nothing else save the weeping of husbands, wives, childer. Until he could hear nothing but the anguished screams and curses at the death of loved ones.
He could do nothing but look upon the ankh as visions were forced upon him. His mind still held in sway as it intensified, he began to not only see and hear but feel it. The agony at a sword twisted in his back. The fear and shock upon seeing the arrows bury themselves in your chest. The horror at the long teeth ripping at your throat and feeding upon your own life - feeling your limbs grow cold and weak at the loss of blood.
It continued for what seemed an eternity. Every man, woman, and childe he had ever killed returned to haunt him. Every grief-stricken husband or wife. Each childe gazing at him with tear filled eyes in horror, not fully understanding why their 'mama' or 'papa' was not coming back to them. Gone forever. They all assaulted his thoughts with screams of rage and hatred. He saw them all.

The man screamed in agony, "Forgive me!" Sanguine tears flowed down his pale face.

His eyes cleared for a moment as he was still transfixed by the ankh. Red streams were shed from it's nape. The blood of the innocents poured forth upon the floor, mingling with his own tears.

He could take no more. There was nothing left in him. He tried to utter something but all that came out was a guttural sob.

The man collapsed upon the cold stone floor as the statue glowed with a faint warm radiance.

A tall figure dressed in the garb of clergy stepped from the corner of the chapel into the center of the room where the body was slowly melding with the stonework. The symbol of the Church of Winterfell glinted in the rays from the ankh. Upon his face was not a smile, but a tired frown. He rolled up the parchment he had open in his hands and tucked it into his belt. He collected a small amount of the quickly fading blood into a vial and stood over the body a moment.

"It is done. Rest now old one."


In the nearby Abbey bank a young beggar girl heard a scream in the shrine room. Looking around to the moneylenders and guards she realized they didn't notice the sound. Either didn't notice, or didn't care.
She cautiously approached the door but quickly stepped back as it swung open. She saw a weary-eyed priest walk out of the room, down the hall, and out of the abbey.

She peered in the room and saw no other occupants. Nothing was unusual about the chapel. While wondering what would have caused that priest to scream so horribly she noticed a glint on the floor. She bent down and picked up the silver ring, unusually cold to the touch, and examined it. Two letters which she could barely read adorned the inside of the ring. "C. R."

She shrugged and happily tossed her newly found treasure into her pouch. "This O'tta fetch a few gold methinks."

Smiling to herself she saw a few warriors entering the abbey and approached them.

"Spare a few coins m'lords?"


New Beginnings

by Aurora Exarchati


Brittney looked through the battered hope chest that contained the rest of her worldly belongings, pausing to slip her wedding ring around her finger. The flood of painful memories came back and she pulled it off, tossing it back in the chest where it fell to the bottom. She found comfort in the ancient chain armor that had saved her on many occasions, lovingly pulling it from the tomb it had rested in for all too long. Slipping it over her head, pulling her hair from within the tunic, the soft auburn locks fell to their resting place down her back. Kicking her sandals off, she slipped the leggings on, tying them tight with the dragon skin belt, heavily warded with enchantments of protection. Looking back into the chest, she pulled forth her feathered helm and the supple dragon skin gloves and boots that had protected her from harm for so long. Reveling in the luxuriant feel, she slipped them on her hands and feet, then donned her helm. "Almost ready." she said to herself, sighing. Gazing down into the rapidly emptying chest, she pulled forth a small silver choker, then finally, her sword. The long, silver blade shone with brilliance as arcs of blue electricity rippled along it and within the huge star sapphire mounted where the blade, quillions, and pommel met. Smiling wryly, Brittney intoned a short prayer for forgiveness to the Goddess, then in a rage, overturned the hope chest and spilled its contents over the burned floor in her once beautiful home. Stalking out, she opened the page of her spellbook Seira had forbidden her to ever look upon…

Stepping through the shimmering blue gate, the awful smell of death drifted through the dank chamber and into her nose. Pulling her blade from its scabbard, the cavern was bathed in a soft blue glow from the soul gem within it. The walls were made up of the bones and souls of Myrkul's victims, a sickly yellow that made Brittney want to wretch for the small repast she had forced down a few hours before. She could feel the pain of these trapped souls, but they were of no great concern. She had only come for one soul…

The shimmering crystal skulls in the room opposite her beckoned Brittney forward into the storage chamber of the souls of the Undead Lords. She smiled knowingly - finally she would gain the ultimate revenge upon Lord Scythe and there was nothing he could do about it. Looking at the palm sized soul stones - carved to a gruesome visage of a skull to please "Lord" Myrkul, she reached out and touched each one in turn. "Terror… No… Ingen Jeger… Tso'Nu… Kanien… Scythe…" She paused as she reached Lord Scythe's, tempted to destroy it and release him into the aether. "No, you will suffer as I did, foul one." Brittney uttered the words with contempt, then finally found the soul stone she was seeking. "Savante… Yes, your brother will know the pain I have felt - to be left bereft of the one closest to him in life…" Brittney clutched the stone in the palm of her hand, it's coldness numbing her through the gloves she wore. "Little one, I suggest you return that," Lord Scythe commanded of her, entering the soul chamber of Myrkul's Undead Lords. Spinning quickly around, her sword glowed with a wicked blue light, hungering for the taste of the physical essence of the undead one before her. She grinned at him, the said the final words of her short life, "You will feel the pain that I have Lord Scythe. You took my dearest sister from me, and so will I take your brother from you, and from the paltry deity you call Myrkul…" Brittney dropped the gem to the ground, then plunged her blade into it, shattering it and allowing the soul the escape and dissipate to the four winds. Scythe felt a coldness he had not known since his transformation so long ago and let forth a bellow of rage from his fetid lungs.

Brittney quickly slipped past him, into the larger outer chamber where the fight ensued. She knew she had no chance against this foul being's rage without keeping her wits about her. Scythe quickly followed her in, barraging the stone formation she hid behind with a ferocious magical assault. The Goddess then asked her to do that which she had never before fathomed possible… Brittney stepped forth from behind the ruins of the rock formation and turned her sword on herself, plunging it deep within her heart. Lord Scythe stood in utter shock as he realized what was going on - the stone in the sword's pommel was a soul stone that was trapping her soul safe from Myrkul's reach. The small, lifeless frame of Brittney slumped to the floor, her soul causing the stone to glow a warm blue. Her destiny had finally been fulfilled, and the Goddess sent one of her avatars to retrieve the young girl's body and the sword that contained her soul. She had found no peace in life, but the eternity beyond offered her a chance to be with those that she had thought eternally lost…
Greeting her sister warmly, Seira embraced her and guided her to the gates of the Goddess' realm, where Brittney would spend eternity with those she had loved in life, and the One she had served until death… Sighing softly, Brittney slumped down onto the ivory chair in the court of the Goddess, content in knowing she had fulfilled that which she had vowed to accomplish in life…


'Makel'

by Rosa Maria

I have been a child of the night for some time and I have walked its endless labyrinth. I have seen horrors I should have not seen but I did. Only one of these do I remember well. It was the case of a girl, I will name her Makel for it meant "savage" in mine old language. Makel was only a girl barely 13 of age but if ye crossed her ye would probably wouldnt be standing. She was the embodyment of all the human has tried to negate of his animal nature. She would hunt for food and all she needed but not animals...

Her body was not that out of the ordinary for her age. Ye could say she was beatiful in her girlish young self. Her hair was normal cofee brown and her eyes were of the same color. They gave the chill of an eternal witner and she moved like a spirit among the myst. Her body seemed fragile and loose. Her skin was pale and lacked nurishment. Her figure was better than most and her leg muscles were tightly built obviously do to her running. She was never one to carry a weapon and ye did never see her smile, her expresion was always the same dry cold self.

At first glance to this girl I was amazed and intrigued. I followed her on her routes without her ever noticing me. She stopped for a moment infront of a homeless one and put her hand out like if awaiting something. The beggar only did one vagabond did only one thing. He laughed and hit her hand harshly. Makel never winced, she only let it there, when the vagabond put his hand again she grabbed it and crunched it. Ye could hear the sounds of the man's bones cracking under her grasp. His screams were quickly stopped by her hit to the mans throat leaving him without air. She took his neck into her arms and snapped it like twig, leaveing me scared stiff and amazed. She took his ragged cloak and put it over her. She kept going on an entered the wilderness. I foulishly followed.

She knocked on a cabbin and a man and his wife oppened the door. She acted like if a poor girl from the streets and they let her in. It wasnt long before I could hear human screams from inside as i saw the door open and a splurt of blood fall out. Before I knew it the house was on fire and out was Makel with new clothes and a cleaner face.

In the morning i had slept in an inn and was awakend by the screams and clanking of the crowd. When I went out there was Makel chained to a sort of stump with her back bare to the winds. A dark cloaked and hooded man in black atire stood over her with a whip. I watched from my window as another man in robes dictated her crimes and asked what she felt. Her face was motionless, no fear, nothing. The robed man after seeing her lak of cooperation said only one thing: "Death, death by lashes!" First I had heard such a sentence but I was going to see what it meant. The dark man with a whip started hitting her over and over cutting and destroying her young body but I watched Makel's face, it stayed the same. Her body was already bathed in blood but she kept like if nothing. One hour the death took and her body was left there as a warning to those who wished to break the law. To me it was a warning of something else, it was the warning of what human nature can be all about...