Aran o Erain
Part II
(by Taliaferro Erucolindo)
As Taliaferro raced up the hill, he could still feel the poison coursing through his veins, eating away at his life. He thought about trying to find the anti-venom potion he kept with him, but didn't know if the Teir'Dal would be able to poison him again, and Tal only had one dose left. He did, though, take the time to quaff a potion that would grant him the spirit of the wolf (for he kept one of those handy at all times, thanks to the skills of his guildmate Lacka). Racing again up the hill, his night vision (still enhanced by his Bracer of the Hidden) saw the heat signatures of various animals, but the Dark Elf had disappeared over the top edge of the hill. "I have to find him fast," thought Tal, "or he could double back and ambush me again..." As Tal topped the hill, he looked to his right, then turned quickly as he heard a sound to his left. Another throwing knife whirled through the air at him, as the Teir'Dal stepped from behind a tree! Glinting from the light of the stars, and both moons of Norrath, the throwing knife flipped end over end, allowing Tal to track it's path. Tal ducked the knife, and then sidestepped the charging Rogue who had thrown it. This time though, the Rogue also dodged under Tal's sweeping slashes, and jammed the poisoned tip of his dirk through a chink in the armor of Tal's right leg! Pain again shot through Tal as more poison entered his system. Now staggered from the wound in his leg, Tal knew that his opponent would have had even more of a speed advantage, had he not drank the potion. Even with the potion's effects, he could barely match the moves of his enemy. Again, four blades flashed under the night sky, with sparks striking from them as they rang against each other. Slowly the two circled each other, all the while slashing and stabbing. Here a cut would slash through the armor, there a stab would penetrate, but neither Elf could strike the fatal blow he sought. Tal knew that he was losing ground. For every wound he inflicted on his enemy, the enemy stuck one in return, and each time the poisoned dirk struck home, more fire laced through Taliaferro's body. Tal also felt his anger rising, knowing that the beserker rage would take him soon, and that he wouldn't be capable of rational thought, only bloodlust. While it would give him strength, it would rob him of his reason, and that would give a wiley Rogue just the chance he needed to escape (or worse). Tal landed a kick against the knee of his opponent, and then followed it with a thrust from his left handed blade. The Rogue parried that strike and tried to riposte, but Tal in turn parried that strike downward, and with his right hand snapped a quick looping slash upwards. It caught the Teir'Dal Rogue under the chin, and slashed open a deep wound through his neck. Instinctively, the Rogue brought his hands up to this throat, and Tal seized upon the opening! Reversing his previous swing, Tal brought his right sword back down hard at his enemy's head, which the enemy predictably blocked. Doing so, however, left the Teir'Dal's right side open, and with all the might he had left, Tal buried the blade in his left hand deeply into the ribs of his would-be assasin! Black blood gushed from the side of the foe, as well as from his mouth, and he sank to his knees. Tal, already near death himself, dropped to his knees with his opponent, to avoid having his blade wrenched out of his hand. With a last bit of defiance, the Teir'Dal grabbed Tal and pulled him closer, plunging the point of his dirk one last time into Tal's chest, and now Fier'Dal blood and Teir'Dal blood freely flowed together, as the two locked in an embrace of death. Tal, covered in his own blood and the blood of this un-named enemy, locked eyes with his foe, and saw nothing but the purest of hatred in them. Hatred of everything Tal stood for, hatred of Tal's race, hatred of Tal for no reason other than the fact that Tal was a creature of the Light. Tal had never seen this Dark Elf before, but he knew that there could be no peace between them, save the peace of death. The creation of Innoruuk spat blood onto the creation of Tunare, and with a pained and bloody voice, screamed in his own Dark Speech, "DIE.....DAMN YOU!!!" Tal released his grip upon his left hand blade (still lodged in the Dark Elf's ribs) and pushed himself away from the Teir'Dal, screaming back in Elvish, "NOT TONIGHT!!!" With one smooth motion, and nearly all of his remaining strength, the Fier'Dal Warrior spun a full circle, and cleaved cleanly through the neck of his enemy, sending his head spinning off into the darkness, in a shower of black blood! His strength spent, Taliaferro staggered, then fell to the ground, his body wracked with pain. Fumbling in desperation, Taliaferro strained to hold back the rage of a beserker frenzy, as he pulled from his pouch his last dose of anti-venom. Biting the stopper and spitting it away (now covered in blood from Tal's mouth), the dying Fier'Dal drank the remaining dose of the cure, and fell to the ground.
The teachings of Rallos Zek demanded that only the worthy survive. Tal knew that if he was not worthy, then this would be his final death. Many on Norrath died in combat, but for reasons known only to the gods themselves, rarely did such death remain permanent. Tal had died many times, but each time, Zek had seen fit to send him back, presumably because Tal had been judged worthy. Sometimes, a Cleric or devout Paladin had petitioned their own god or goddess on Tal's behalf, and had been able to call Taliaferro's spirit back to the site of his death, where he could recover his equipment in a restored body. Such a resurrection was not without a price, and often the post-resurrection effects were as painful and disabling as the death-causing injury itself. Still, life continued past death, and Tal knew that meant he had been judged worthy to continue the good fight. Despite that, though, Tal knew that one day his death would be final, that either his task on Norrath would be finished, or that he would have been judged unworthy by his god to continue. If this was Taliaferro's time, he was ready, but he hoped that it would not be.
The anti-venom did it's job, and while Tal was still weak from combat, bloodloss, and the damaging effects of the poison, the burning in his veins had died down. Tal knew that he would bleed to death if he didn't stop the flow of blood though, so when he had enough strength, he pulled himself to his knees, and began to pull bandages from his backpack. Carefully winding the bandages around his wounds, applying pressure in just the right places, Tal was able to staunch the flow of blood, and soon felt strong enough to rise to his feet. It was nearly midnight now, and the moons of Norrath were high in the sky. Between their light, the light of the stars, and Tal's night vision, the Fier'Dal could make out the Plains of Eastern Karana clearly. From the vantage point of the top of the hill, Tal could see that some fires still burned in the homes of the Humans and Barbarians in the area, and in the local inn. "Perhaps a warm fire and a good bed will help me feel myself again," thought Tal. He didn't carry money with him on long journeys (for obviously the area had been a fertile hunting ground for Rogues, such as the dead one at Tal's feet), but as he recovered his other sword from the body of the fallen Rogue, he noticed that the Rogue had a decent-sized moneypouch on his belt. Pulling the coinpurse from the corpse, Tal muttered to himself, "...to the victor go the spoils...." and guessed that there were about 100 gold pieces, judging from the weight of the purse. "I do not know how many people you robbed to gain these spoils," Tal spat at the corpse, "but I'll see that it gets put to honest use." Tal wiped the blood from his blades, then sheathed them. Kicking the corpse one more time, Tal started to walk away, in the direction of the nearest inn.
As he turned to go, he felt the spirit of the wolf leave him. The potion had kept him alive by granting him speed in combat, but now was wearing off, and he would need another dose to continue, lest he walk the rest of the way. The inn was not terribly far off, but Tal still wasn't feeling well, and there were potentially other dangers about. Looking in his pack, however, he saw that the potion bottle had broken during the fight. "Just my luck," Tal muttered. "Maybe I can wring some out of the change of clothes I keep in here..." As Tal knelt to rummage once again through his oversized backpack, he failed to notice that the ground trembled ever so slightly. "Frell! Where's that vest of mine, that thing soaks up liquids like a sponge when I spill ale on it...." Tal was lost in his thoughts as the ground shook even harder. Suddenly, Tal realized that something very big was VERY close by. Cursing himself for not being more alert, Tal spun around has he heard a tremendous noise, and saw an enormous head staring back at him, from just over the far side of the crest of the hill. "Frell me dead....I can't believe I just got snuck up on by a Giant....." thought Tal, as the enormous creature known as Tarbul Earthstrider stared down the hill at the injured Fier'Dal, and licked his lips....