This particular day, of this particular month, always held something special for lovers. The gift of a rose, a ring, a bauble; the favor of a kiss, or the promise of matrimony. It's called by various names in various places, but for a worshipper of the Nihil, it holds a special meaning. Valentine's Day, Love Night-- whatever called by whoever enjoyed it, this was a night demanding a sacrifice to the dark gods.
But that was then.
One year ago this night, Jodiah Ayreg had left the Red Dragon Inn with a bottle of wine, and used it to lure a lonely woman to his side where he committed a heinous act of murder upon her. He did this with reverence - it was the very highest, most important day in the life of a Nihilian. Ayreg, one year ago, fulfilled his obligations, and left that woman to die.
He was a follower of the Nihil no longer.
It had been some months since Ayreg had cast off the burden of Malfeas, ironically with the 'assistance' of Garen Corlagon. That memory still was there in his head. Ayreg was a man accustomed to pain, but the suffering he felt under the searing jet of ethereal green flame was like nothing he had ever felt before.
Jodiah Ayreg screamed, full-throated, as the Balefire wrapped itself around his body like liquid metal. He could feel every hair on his body as if they were tiny daggers, he could feel his skin ripping, shredding, cracking and peeling off his aged, battle-scarred form.
This night was going to be like any other. It was a night for those who had already grown together as a couple, and Jodiah - for better or for worse - had not. Not in any kind of capacity that he could understand, let alone come to know and embrace and call his own.
And you say that love conquers all? Well not for you, and not for me.
Not for any of the heartbroken.
And so it was that Ayreg was on the road this night, in Rhy'Din. He had taken a few days leave of Rhilshen to attend to business. Evidentially, something had come up at Taiva, and Dulmor, the capable but quirky Seneschal, required His Lordship's counsel. Counsel given, he traveled upon the well-worn road leading back north to Rhy'Din City. From there, he would journey through the city, possibly stopping at the Red Dragon for a warming tankard of ale, before taking the North Road up to the mountain pass, and then turning east back to Alysia's manor at Dark Lake, and so return to his responsibilities in Rhilshen.
He was bored, and it was cold. With his aging black cloak -- the first true piece of clothing he was able to afford after his awakening in the ruins of Doomhammer Keep far, far, far to the south, in the blasted lands of the great desert -- wrapped tightly around him, the hood drawn up atop his head, Ayreg had started to make a game of counting the hairs running down Harpy's crest.
It was the only thing he could think of to do on such a quiet, lonely night.
A noise had caused him to turn his head. It sounded like the faint call of birds, somewhere off to his right. Hardly a thing for concern, though many bandits communicated to each other with the sound of birdcalls. It was for this reason that Jodiah's head remained leveled with the brush along the side of the path, one hand upon the Flaydskin hilt of Frost Brand, and watched for anything unusual.
Wait. There...
The underbrush was thick, but there was a spot where it looked like someone had passed through. Beaten down, dragged down; perhaps a traveling merchant's wagon had fallen out of control and toppled down onto the bushes.
The bird cried again, louder this time, sustained and pitched.
Ayreg clicked his tongue and pulled Harpy's reins, and the mare whickered in subtle protest. Vivid green eyes tick-tocked left and right, watching the brush, peering down the path that someone had made off the road, and listening to the whipping roar of the wind.
Wait.
Nothing.
Wait...
Nothing.
Wait......
There it was. The call of that bird again. Only this time, the wind had changed directions, and blew impotently against the back of his hooded head. His ears weren't filled, then, with the howl of the moving air. He could make out that call clearly. And it wasn't a bird.
It was a piercing human scream.
Perhaps Ayreg had grown soft. Perhaps there was a spark of Paladin left in him, one that demanded he at least investigate what was going on before he abandoned them to their fate. Perhaps that single moment in a snowy street last winter, where he had intervened and, so, saved the life of Alysia Skye had made an impact on him.
Whatever it was that caused him to do it, he couldn't say. He pulled sharply to the right on Harpy's reins and, with a swift kick into the horse's flanks, answered by an enraged scream from the mare herself, he launched off like a nocked arrow into the treeline.
But that was then.
One year ago this night, Jodiah Ayreg had left the Red Dragon Inn with a bottle of wine, and used it to lure a lonely woman to his side where he committed a heinous act of murder upon her. He did this with reverence - it was the very highest, most important day in the life of a Nihilian. Ayreg, one year ago, fulfilled his obligations, and left that woman to die.
He was a follower of the Nihil no longer.
It had been some months since Ayreg had cast off the burden of Malfeas, ironically with the 'assistance' of Garen Corlagon. That memory still was there in his head. Ayreg was a man accustomed to pain, but the suffering he felt under the searing jet of ethereal green flame was like nothing he had ever felt before.
Jodiah Ayreg screamed, full-throated, as the Balefire wrapped itself around his body like liquid metal. He could feel every hair on his body as if they were tiny daggers, he could feel his skin ripping, shredding, cracking and peeling off his aged, battle-scarred form.
This night was going to be like any other. It was a night for those who had already grown together as a couple, and Jodiah - for better or for worse - had not. Not in any kind of capacity that he could understand, let alone come to know and embrace and call his own.
And you say that love conquers all? Well not for you, and not for me.
Not for any of the heartbroken.
And so it was that Ayreg was on the road this night, in Rhy'Din. He had taken a few days leave of Rhilshen to attend to business. Evidentially, something had come up at Taiva, and Dulmor, the capable but quirky Seneschal, required His Lordship's counsel. Counsel given, he traveled upon the well-worn road leading back north to Rhy'Din City. From there, he would journey through the city, possibly stopping at the Red Dragon for a warming tankard of ale, before taking the North Road up to the mountain pass, and then turning east back to Alysia's manor at Dark Lake, and so return to his responsibilities in Rhilshen.
He was bored, and it was cold. With his aging black cloak -- the first true piece of clothing he was able to afford after his awakening in the ruins of Doomhammer Keep far, far, far to the south, in the blasted lands of the great desert -- wrapped tightly around him, the hood drawn up atop his head, Ayreg had started to make a game of counting the hairs running down Harpy's crest.
It was the only thing he could think of to do on such a quiet, lonely night.
A noise had caused him to turn his head. It sounded like the faint call of birds, somewhere off to his right. Hardly a thing for concern, though many bandits communicated to each other with the sound of birdcalls. It was for this reason that Jodiah's head remained leveled with the brush along the side of the path, one hand upon the Flaydskin hilt of Frost Brand, and watched for anything unusual.
Wait. There...
The underbrush was thick, but there was a spot where it looked like someone had passed through. Beaten down, dragged down; perhaps a traveling merchant's wagon had fallen out of control and toppled down onto the bushes.
The bird cried again, louder this time, sustained and pitched.
Ayreg clicked his tongue and pulled Harpy's reins, and the mare whickered in subtle protest. Vivid green eyes tick-tocked left and right, watching the brush, peering down the path that someone had made off the road, and listening to the whipping roar of the wind.
Wait.
Nothing.
Wait...
Nothing.
Wait......
There it was. The call of that bird again. Only this time, the wind had changed directions, and blew impotently against the back of his hooded head. His ears weren't filled, then, with the howl of the moving air. He could make out that call clearly. And it wasn't a bird.
It was a piercing human scream.
Perhaps Ayreg had grown soft. Perhaps there was a spark of Paladin left in him, one that demanded he at least investigate what was going on before he abandoned them to their fate. Perhaps that single moment in a snowy street last winter, where he had intervened and, so, saved the life of Alysia Skye had made an impact on him.
Whatever it was that caused him to do it, he couldn't say. He pulled sharply to the right on Harpy's reins and, with a swift kick into the horse's flanks, answered by an enraged scream from the mare herself, he launched off like a nocked arrow into the treeline.