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Mind-Realming


Started by Harlwystyr
Post #78024
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Likes Given: 14
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Faction & Race:
Daggerfall Covenant
Breton
The hit almost knocked every ounce of air from his lungs, sending him staggering back. He'd dare raise another hand in a brief, futile defense.

The second spell came lashing at him with the same, deadly embrace of a previous barrage, hitting home in his chest.

"You will find death by my hand, cursed mageling!" a voice snarled, unleashing a spell Harlwystyr recognised as a mind blast.

Loud voices, raging and spurning through his head until they leave him deaf and bewildered. A sharp image.

The towering walls did not return his heartfelt smile of relief. Come to think of it, they never had for once in his life. They just stood there, courageous and wise, circling around the manors as a protective mother, embracing her child in loving, safe arms.

An young redguard of a few summers caught his attention, pulling slightly in his beard, resulting in a surprised grunt.

"Sir, wake up."

"Mh... Mh? Oh... I seem to have... drowsed off, eh? Pardon lass, where were we?" he answered, sighing deeply for not being attentive enough. He could almost spot the girl's disgusted frown as she studied the much older breton - at least there was also some sort of curiousity in her eyes, always a start.

"Well, Calina - shall we start the lesson then? Remember what I've told ye so far - magic should not be used to abuse or otherwise exert control."


Another lash, burning his eyes and severely scorching the flesh off his hand, leaving bits of charred flesh to crumple off his body. He began to realise he had to end this soon.

A second mind lash, frantic haste and grotesque figures.

A kind smile managed to calm Tristan down a bit, who had only just received his punishment for leaving Camlorn and his appointed mission.

"Yes Archmage, I understand and accept this punishment," a voice rumbled through Harlwystyr's mind, burning intensely in his memory as a branding iron used for marking cattle in the hot afternoons of Ykalon.

He felt sorry for Tristan - he was a good man after all. For another, brief moment he silently mulled upon his judgement, soon dismissing it with a wave. No, it was regrettable, but they had to learn that life was not always one of easy decisions. He'd not mold his associates into splitting images of himself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't lift a finger over their ways of treating life.

"He'll come to accept it, Harl,'" her voice purred in his mind, forcing a weak smile upon his lips.


"Your mind may shield you, but I will not relent, foolish old man. Die!"

Images flashing past, cries of agony ignored.

"Ye want some, either of ye? 'Tis snail," he smiled, holding out the sandwich with a clear smile. "Only the must exotic and exquisite pastes from the greatest, bulky slugs ye can find on trees."

"I'll be alright, thanks," - their voices almost mirrored one another, Harlwystyr noticed.

"Mh, alright - more for me then, I guess," he replied with velvet calm - a moist slug tried to undulate itself from his mouth, squirming to get away before his teeth came down. Once he parted his lips, it appears again, poking its head out from the corner of his lips before disappearing behind his chew once more.

Casnar and Reline quavered, he thought he detected - oh, those illusions get everyone, even Lodean, hah.

He granted Reline another brief look in remembered admiration, letting the conversation flow.


A knife cutting through his flesh, searing his very mind. Smoke and dust before his trembling eyes.

"Master Samuel, you taxes have risen to the total amount of sixty drakes, which you have failed to pay in fealty to His Majesty, the King. I have been authorised to seize your property and have my escort bring you to the dungeons at once."

"And if I refuse?" the baker's voice came, eyes narrowed in clear disgust at the tax-collector and grandé escort.

The room of the inn shook briefly, and people hurried away in shock - the unmistakable, weathered and stern face of Armand Stanwell appeared from thin air.

"Master Samuel, you will find the castle's moat a most comfortable place of resting in the form of a fly if you deny what is undeniably the property of our King," the sharp reply from the elderly court wizard came.

Even as the baker was quivering beneath the stare of Stanwell, another free spot in the inn suddenly filled itself with a slight "flob" of smoke - the face of an old man appeared instantly, beaming pleasant smiles and polite nods to everyone gathered - the silvery beard swaying before the calm lines of his smile.

"Hail to ye all on this fair eve, my friends - I hope I'm not interrupting one of Lil' Armand's displays of power?"

The guards raised the halbards, but the court wizard remained unimpressed, glaring whilst adding in an appropriate, soft voice:

"Harlwystyr, what do you want, you damned meddler?"

"Oh ho - came to see the most lovely women Daggerfall has to offer, young one - and to pay ye half of which Samuel here "owes" ye - and to counsel ye in a friendly manner to let the rest of his current taxes drop."

"Whilst I'll never understand why a fool such as you would pay the taxes of another man, throwing money about as if it was wildflowers, I can tell you that his sentence will remain. What are you going to do about that, old man?"

"Well... I guess I'll have to peel down and remove certain wards in the lower basements of ye mighty kingdom's castle."

"You're threatening me Harlwystyr?" the court wizard hissed, eyes almost shooting bolts of lightning.

"No, no - That's not my job, but the work and duty of fools - which ye kingdom seems to have an endless supply of - 'tis merely a friendly counsel. I can imagine some within ye order would be quite angry if ye pet creations - that I have contained so far, mind - were to suddenly run around in ye vaults, chasing ye magelings around in ye own corridors."

Armand Stanwell swallowed, turning suddenly white as he threw in his response.

"I see... I... have work to do," it came even after the floating head of the conjurer sighed bitterly.

"Aye, so ye do, dearest apprentice."


Sudden light, beaming through branches and tangled thoughts.

He raised his hand slowly, panting from the latest attacks. He wandered a set of beautiful weavings through the air.

"We'll see, cultist o' so grand," he purred.



(An old story I redid to fit this char and setting - it's a series of memories exposed and torn from Harlwystyr's mind as he battles certain daedra-worshipping sorcerers!)
This post was last modified: July 10th 2013, 02:22 PM by Harlwystyr
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The following 2 users Like Harlwystyr's post:
Horizon Seeker, Triskele
Post #78155
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Redguard
Very nice work :D




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Post #78404
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I think this is quite a creative way to have multiple experiences in Harlwystyr's life come together in one story! Amidst a duel of magic and flashing spells, he recalls past instances that show off his personality, values, and methods to the reader. Then after they have passed, he gets right back into the battle! It says much about the character, and how he remains true and steadfast to what ideas he holds dear.
This post was last modified: July 12th 2013, 12:03 AM by Horizon Seeker


Character Profiles:
Endaros Ilmori - Buoyant Armiger
Sunrio - Aldmeri Justiciar

Taren Jucanis - Imperial Deserter (Used for The Black Shroud RP)
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Post #78424
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Likes Given: 14
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Daggerfall Covenant
Breton
Thanks Tris!

And you know, Horizon - I couldn't have said it better myself, I really couldn't, but that was exactly what I had in mind. Here's this guy who has had a... long life, has seen people he loved pass away to murder as well as age, and the only thing he has to cling onto are all these memories.
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