Eryael One

This strange meeting occurred in the depths of Darkstone Castle during one of its violent mana storms. It was the first encounter of a disillusioned Ronanite with Eryael Ladrinyth,the Pain Lord of Mularos. The strange, nearly nonsensical discussions said Ronanite seems to be having are evidence of a mental disease that manifested itself in the form of an alternate personality.

A sudden chill races down your spine as you notice the floor pulsate beneath you for a brief moment.

A cool rush of air filters in, and you hear a soft, nearly feminine sigh.

A dense fog begins to gather at your feet, shifting like a bubbling miasma of pale white.

Something begins to shift in the fog, and a thin frame suddenly rises up veiled in the mists.

You see Eryael Ladrinyth the Mularosian Pain Lord.
He appears to be in his 20's, has long, straight platinum blonde hair that falls to his waist, warm violet eyes, and delicate pale skin.
He has faintly visible scars across his exposed skin.
He is in good shape.
He is wearing a soft white cloak trimmed in dark burgundy velvet, some light grey ankle-tie sandals, and a loose-fitting white robe hemmed with pale grey silk.

You say, "You-- Terror, enough!-- ye've tha look o' a verrah sad fellow."

Eryael suddenly brushes the back of his hand against your cheek.

You say, "Ah... cin see it in yer eyes."

(Tierus gives a soft, pained sigh.)

Eryael says in a soft voice, "You split yourself. But I could split your flesh and your spirit, little lost puppy. You could make a beautiful canvas. You've already built the foundation..."

Eryael gazes at you, unblinking.

You say, "Ah... nae, ah love life."

Eryael asks in a soft voice, "Is not life more precious, when we know of the depths of pain it can hold?"

You say, "Wha' pain is thair in dyin'? Only a moment, an' then it ends."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Death is an end, little lost puppy. It has no beginning. Oh, the scaly little lovelies will tell you different, but they don't know how to have fun..."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Pain is a beginning and an ending unto itself. You already know this. You live it, little lost puppy. Every day."

You say, "Life is pain." He sighs, and closes his eyes. A tear trickles down his cheek. " Tha's tha wiy o' things."

Eryael suddenly walks up to you and grabs you underneath your chin, his violet eyes staring straight into your own.

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Embrace it."

(Tierus spreads his arms wide, but his head seems to rear back reluctantly.)

You exclaim, "Tierus, do not be a fool! This does not serve your Ronan!"

You say, "Terror, 'e un'erstands us..."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "You only know inner pain. That is all and well, pretty little puppy. But you are torn."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "The torn have no place among such rigid Lords. The only companion you have is pain."

You cower.

You say, "Tha pain is alwiys thair... ye speak truly."

You ask, "Bu'... wha' is pain o' tha body tae compare wif agony o' tha mind?"

Eryael shakes his head, his platinum curls moving a bit on their own as he smiles to himself.

Eryael says in a soft voice, "It is beauty. Art. Wonderful to look upon. An outward manifestation of what should be inside you, pretty little puppy."

(Tierus moves closer to Eryael, his eyes gazing intently into the Mularosian's.)
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Eryael says in a soft voice, "What I could do with your skin and hooks..."

You say, "Ah've felt pain o' tha body..."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Hang by the skin on your back for years, darling Tierus... and then say that."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Endure whippings by the hour, darling Tierus... and then say that."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "You are pretty now... but you could be beautiful."

You say, "No, no, Tierus, this is wrong. I will not allow--" he holds up a single hand, as if to silence someone standing before him. "Terror. Sleep. Ah've been flayed, M'lord... been tortured by life."

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Then embrace it. Draw from it. Revel in it, pretty little puppy. And then return the favor."

Eryael smiles.

(Tierus runs his hands over the flawless white skin of his wrists, shuddering slightly in what might be horror, or expectation.)

You close your eyes for a moment.

You say, "Teach me."

Eryael asks in a soft voice, "That would be the easy way, wouldn't it? Oh no, you're much too pretty to be a common simpering slave. I could get a few months use out of you... but where's the fun in that?"

Eryael sighs.

Eryael turns around.

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Oh... blue eyes. How can I resist those."

(Tierus reaches out one hand, a soft cry on his lips.)

You ask, "Ye will leave me?"

Eryael says in a soft voice, "Just a little, little taste."

Eryael snaps his fingers and an inky tendril of blackness slithers from his robes and coalesces into the form of a wickedly barbed whip.

Eryael snaps his hands and the lash flies forth, wrapping around Tierus' neck tightly enough that blood forms nearly instantly. Eryael doesn't seem to be letting go.

Eryael gazes at Tierus, unblinking.

(Tierus struggles to breathe, but his body does not fight.)

Nofret’s interim commentary:
Farquar306: I'm going to have to dump a bucket of ice water over Tierus' head to bring him to his senses, I see that.
Farquar306: I see that Terror and I will have another conversation as well.
Eryael suddenly smiles widely. The whip dissolves into nothing but a shadow on the floor.

Eryael brushes a slender, child-like finger across your cheek, trailing it down to the trail of blood around your neck before moving away with a wry grin.

(Tierus's chest heaves, hungry for air.)

Eryael says in a soft voice, "You could be beautiful. There is no place for you here, nor among dreams. But pain will always be your companion."

Eryael disappears in a whorl of mist.

(Tierus stares off into the darkness, silently weeping.)

You sit up.

You hug your knees and sway side to side.

You say, "All ye need do is say tha word, me silent mystery..."

(Tierus raises his hand to the shadows.)

(Tierus's other hand reaches into his rucksack, its movements strained.)

You remove a lustrous onyx Ronan symbol from in your dark velvet rucksack.

You ask, "Oh, Gods. Wha' sort o' creature am ah?"

You say, "Ronan, Sheru... Koar! An answir... ah am so weak."

(Tierus stares down at his hands, his body shaking silently.)

A sudden chill races down your spine as you notice the floor pulsate beneath you for a brief moment.

The symbol suddenly sprouts numerous thorns as it's clasped tightly in your hand, each digging painfully into your flesh. The air seems to blur, and the thorns are gone, though the blood is not.

(Tierus casts a hateful glare upon the symbol.)

You exclaim, "If yer domain be torture, 'tis best tha' ye say so, Lord o' tha Night!"

You say, "Ah dinnae e'en know yer name, me lovely one... bu' ah will find ye 'gain."

Return to the Lesser Scrolls.