Ruination

Deep in the Himalayas, in another time when the world is quite different than today there is a valley. It is flanked by the snow-clad crags of the closest mountains and is home to a happy and proud people. The beauty of the valley is without peer in this world with the granite cliffs butting up against a thick, dark, fragrant rain forest. In the valley are small farms and towns with active commerce and a focus on love and life that is simple and pure. It also houses the Dale, the sacred place of the Questor and His slave girl fireinnereyes. Many of Y/you have caught glimpses or heard rumours of it, but its tranquil air and mysterious location have rarely been seen by A/anyone but the ruling Questor and His consort.

Also deep in the Himalayas, there is a Darkness. It is flanked by the snow-clad crags of the closest mountains and is home to a vile and hateful Evil. The Darkness is without hope or love and consumes all who pass through it. The Beast who rules is known as the Ruination, for It has the power to destroy and alter anything pure and beautiful. It has known many names over the years, both forward and backward in time, and has been responsible for wars and tragedies beyond the ken of mortal Men. Wherever there is strife and hatred, bigotry and tragedy the Ruination or one of Its creatures will be found if you can see them.

Atop the mountain cliffs overlooking this verdant and peaceful valley is the Palace of the Questors. It is in essence a Monastery, a place of training and solitude for the warrior monks of the Quest that has been there since time immemorial. It's ramparts overlook the valley and to the East there are outlooks, which clearly show the rising sun each morning.

The present Questor is a stranger who was found wandering in the valley after a series of battles in the East. He had been enslaved and beaten, His life mostly unremembered and taken to the Palace for healing. He quickly grew to love the people of the valley, to adapt to their style of life and entered into training with the warrior monks. To the surprise of A/all He was as if born to the training and progressed through the ranks quickly. When the eldest Monk found it time to move on to Nirvana He called Tantrick to His bedside and named Him the new Questor.

It had been many years, the valley was safe ... the people were happy; The Questor was a fit Guardian of the Way. But something wasn't right ... these days the Questor was usually to be found in the lookouts to the East, peering out at a shadow, which rose into the sky from far away and became darker everyday, until it threatened to block out the sun. Something was coming.

Just this morning, the Questor slipped down the side of the Mountain to the East and slid quietly into the frontier, pressing ever Eastward, looking for the source. He sent one of the Eagles to the West to find an old Friend and Warrior. He feared that He would have need of that Ones courage and counsel.

He left the girl fireinnereyes to train with the monks and ready them; also to wait for the One He hoped would arrive from the West.

At that very moment, the Ruination began its assault quietly and without fanfare, strange creatures left the Darkness and headed to the West.

It was about to begin.............

The Questor was worried, He'd been traveling for two days now ... due east. He seemed no closer to answering the questions He had about what was out there. He had left the relative safety of the Palace to scout and identify what was coming. He hoped against hope that it wasn't The Ruination.

That Evil was supposed to have been removed from the World in the last Great War. It made His stomach churn just remembering the Tales He'd heard from the Elder Monks about how the survivors of battles were taken and twisted and deformed ... then sent back out to fight and kill for the very cancer that had turned their lives and those who loved them inside out.

He had appeared in the valley shortly after that last battle, no memory, beaten, eyes empty, and a grim snarl on His lips. The Brotherhood of the Questors had taken Him in and healed Him; in return He guarded them with all His strength and skill and had become a great Leader.

He prayed to the Gods of the Mountain ... to the Spirits of the Jungle that it was something less, something simple and obvious that He could put His hands on and choke the life out of.

The jungle was thick and steamy, the swamp dark and ominous ... He could hardly see the sky anymore, the darkness was settling like a pillow on His face, at times He found it hard to breathe.

This morning He came upon a battlefield, there were bones of Men, and Animals, and strange unrecognizable things that He didn't want to think about.

One skeleton in particular drew Him; it seemed to call His name. As He approached He saw a coat of arms on a shield that had been hacked and pierced by arrows so many times it was almost transparent. For some reason the sight of the shield brought Him near to tears and He looked around at the scene of the battle. He'd been here before, He was sure of it ... snatches of nightmare voices echoed in His head and He felt the weight of slave chains being attached to His legs and arms.

He shook Himself violently, like a tiger moving out of the water ... the fear dissipating for a second as He bent to the Man with the shield. A sword was beside Him, the blade bright and clean as if it had never been lying in this fen. As He reached to lift it, a shock ran through His arm at the touch. A low growl ripped from His chest and His eyes narrowed and went dark blue. He'd held this sword before, the Bowie on His back keened with a high-pitched whine when He lifted the sword and the sword answered.

He raised the sword to the sky ... for some reason, He felt complete. He traveled on into the East ... slipping quietly past the bodies and into the shelter of the jungle.

He turned once to look back to the peaks of His Home, He hoped His girl was thinking of Him it would be good to see her once again. He prayed that it would be a joyous reuniting. In the meantime He must keep on.

There were miles to go ............

This morning the woman Suha had set out from the Darkness. She was looking for the Questor who had been reported in the jungle headed to the East.

As He came upon an old battlefield in the jungle, she was setting a trap with a group of her followers. The Hold was directly in the Questor's path and she would be waiting for His arrival.

She had a hatred for the Questor, which was almost palpable, when He had been a General in the Ruination army He had taken her and several others of the Eagle people and delivered them to His Dark Lord for the Ruinations pleasures and dark purposes. She had nightmares, even though she had become a nightmare herself of the torture she had undergone, of the loss of her ability to change and fly. It was all the fault of the Questor, never mind that He had eventually turned on the Ruination and sent It back to the dark hell It came from ... she wanted His blood.

And so it came to pass that the Questor arrived a day after. The trap was laid; He had been carefully led here by her clever mind. When He burst on the scene the scent of blood rode high on the breeze and her creatures were tearing at the flesh of a Man. She could see from the edge of the jungle as His hackles rose, this was one of those things He had hoped to never see again. She chuckled quietly under her breath and waited.

Two Men, tall, dark, brutal looking dragged a young boy into the circle. They threw Him into the crowd of creatures and as He landed the beasts turned and moved quickly on Him.

The Questor came at them silently moving like a cat, the sword swinging in a great arc. His firm muscles and lithe form dancing and slashing as He engaged them, a savage growl erupted from Him as he ran into the first one. Flesh splattered and sprayed, limbs fell, and heads burst open from the force of the impact. The fighting rage was full on Him and He slew.

The two Men who had brought the boy waited, their eyes bright, their lips twisted in amusement and when He was through they closed on Him ... drawing their swords. One swung low, one swung high, a tactic which would have destroyed any other, but the Questor was ready ... His reflexes were too sudden and He had seen these tactics before. The Bowie appeared in one hand as if by magic and flew through the air to the face of the one who struck high. The great sword of the Questor sang gloriously and parried the low blow by the other. The one who had struck high's sword continued it's swing and sliced into the one who went low as He dropped dead to the clearing floor. The final blow by the Questor was fast and simple. He beheaded the one remaining.

He knelt beside the boy, the Bowie slicing through the bonds on His wrists and ankles and poked Him.

"Get out of here boy, move quickly".

The lilting voice behind Him surprised Him, who had managed to close on Him so silently? He turned and saw a beautiful woman with hard white eyes, her hair like coal, but her features young and unlined standing there, a cape of feathers surrounding her. She laughed and floated toward Him, "Questor, You've come far, you should rest."

Her eyes went wide, her lips moving in an ancient language and as her hand reached out to touch Him the strength left His body and He collapsed beside the corpses of those He had slain ... His last sight was of the woman laughing softly to herself, thinking of the torture and pain He would experience at her hands.

His eyes closed and He spun down into darkness ...............

They were in the Hold, the Western Most stronghold of the Ruination. The woman Suha was one of the Eagle People that guarded the heights above the Palace. She had been taken in the previous war and twisted and altered by the Evil. She was both less and more than she had been in those days. While she no longer had the power of flight, the power of transmogrification had been altered into the ability to stun and control Men with just a single touch.

The Questor was being held in one of the cells beneath the Main Hall. He had been double chained and there were guards rustling around outside the door. The cell was pitch black, the only light coming from a small crack under the door and that not enough to light more than the fact that there was indeed a way out. It was dark when He woke, pitch black. The image of the woman flashed before His eyes and His hand reached quickly to choke her ... only to be stopped dead by the manacle and chain. He strained against the chains, He'd sworn that this would never happen to Him again but they were strong and firm. Apparently they had heard of the Questor and had been prepared for Him.

He tried to rise to His feet but the chains were too short and too close to the ground. However the rattling apparently had some effect ... a voice came out of the gloom.

"They're strong enough to hold even You Questor; I saw when they brought you in that they doubled the chain. For me the single chain is sufficient, especially since they haven't fed me in a week."

The Questor laughed, "We'll see about that, but the good news is they haven't killed Me yet, they must want Me alive for something."

The voice replied, "that may not be such good news Questor, before they are through with you, you may pray for death."

A chill ran up His spine, a memory of the torture He'd undergone before pushing to the front of His mind. The scars were seared into His body, His mind and His soul; somehow He'd escaped and wandered into the valley where the monks found Him. While He was not afraid of the dark, the idea of going through that kind of torment again filled Him with dread. It had almost destroyed Him before and He'd be damned if He would allow it again.

He turned back to the voice, "I need information My friend. What do you know of where We are and who this woman is?"

The voice seemingly coming from next to Him at one moment and across a chasm of time and space at another told Him a tale that mesmerized Him. They were in the Hold, the Western Most stronghold of the Ruination. The woman it seemed was one of the Eagle People that guarded the heights above the Palace. She had been taken in the previous war and twisted and altered by the Evil. She was both less and more than she had been in those days. While she no longer had the power of flight, the power of transmogrification had been altered into the ability to stun and control Men with just a single touch. The Questor found Himself grieving for her, He knew the Eagle People well and the value they put on Their freedom and their ability to fly. To lose those would destroy the soul of Them.

The door opened and light from a passageway poured into the room. Strong hands grabbed Him, a hood was yanked over His head and He was pulled from the shackles, His feet fettered together, arms bound behind His back and dragged from the room.

A door opened as the voice slowly sunk to silence, light from a passageway pouring into the room. The Questor was disgusted to see a half dozen skeletons shackled as He was and even more ghastly was the creature that had been talking to Him. It may have once been a Man but it no longer resembled anything remotely human. Dark, empty eyes slid around the room, obviously sightless but somehow taking in all that was going on. The creature's skin was the color of a well-fed maggot in a corpse and the features were so ill defined that He couldn't have begun to tell you what it was now.

Strong hands grabbed Him, a hood was yanked over His head and He was pulled from the shackles, His feet fettered together, arms bound behind His back and dragged from the room.

Where were they taking Him? Was this the way to the torture chamber? Was He to be slain?

He was deposited roughly on a marble floor, the voice that spoke immediately recognizable. He snarled at the sound and pulled Himself into a coil of ready steel. Just one second, that's all He needed. One moment of free movement and He would kill the bitch. Whether He escaped or not was of no consequence, He didn't expect to live through whatever was planned for Him anyway.

The voice spoke again, "you may leave Him here. I'll handle it for now." The sound of whatever or whoever had dragged Him here quickly left, the echoes of their boots on the marble distinct. Suddenly the hood was snatched from His head. He looked up from the floor at the woman, silently appraising His situation. She looked at Him with a bemused smile and said, "so Questor, You've decided to take advantage of My hospitality have You?"

He growled at her, which brought a peal of delighted laughter from her. "Get up, Questor, stand up like a Man!"

He stood; struggling to His feet and lifting His chin and eyes to look her directly in the face. "What can I do for you Monster? Why am I here? What reason have You for imprisoning Me?"

Again she burst into laughter, "Monster? I suppose I am. Why? You amuse Me Questor. Your reign has been long and fruitful for the Valley and the Brotherhood, but not so long ago You were one of the very same Monsters of the Ruination. Don't You remember? A slayer You were, the best... the purest killer the Evil ever twisted out of a Man! A General in His army! YOU are responsible for me; You took me prisoner in Your last battle as the Ruination's General and delivered me to that black Evil! I was changed and twisted ... denied my birthright of the skies and torn from my son. The monster You see before You is of Your creation! There was only One more evil than You.

But somewhere deep inside You there was a conscience. You turned on the Ruination and almost single-handedly destroyed it forever."

His head throbbed and His eyes darkened at her words. Yet somehow He knew she was telling the truth. It explained a lot, the dark moods, the killing rages, the lack of compassion He felt for fools or criminals. Yes, He supposed that some would call Him Monster too.

"And why am I here now woman? What is Your purpose with Me?"

"Why it's simple Questor," she walked toward Him and ran her fingers lightly over His muscular shoulders down His powerful arms and then back up to caress His massive chest. "We want You to come Home."

He shook at her touch, as beautiful as she was, it was cold and deathlike. His mind filled with the vision of a slavegirl, sitting on the mountain ledges looking Eastward, her bright green eyes and loving heart searching for just a glimpse of Him.

The woman leaned in and placed her lips against His cheek. "Come Home Questor, great rewards will be yours."

For just a second He leaned toward her, her eyes watching Him sure that the seduction of her and the offer of Power would convince Him. What actually happened was that He had freed the ropes on His wrists. His arms came around with lightning speed ... grabbed her by the throat and held her high off the ground ... the wings which no longer worked flailed at the air for a split second and then her eyes shone bright white and she reached for Him.

He threw her; she crashed through a window and disappeared into the night. She fell through the darkness screeching like a harpy and crashed into the tree under the Hold window. It broke her fall and left her wounded and furious on the ground.

He looked around for something to remove the shackles and noticed a chest at the end of a long table, as He opened it; He heard the Bowie and the Sword sing their song of Death. A grim smile came over His lips; the sword spun high in the air and sliced through the chains in a single cut.

It was time to leave ..................

The Questor moved quickly, the Bowie sliding into its customary place between His shoulder blades like magic... the sword seemingly an extension of His body. He shook His head, something about the sword that He didn't understand was the familiarity He had with it. He'd found it just a couple of days ago with the body of a fallen Knight. Well, this was not the time to figure it out. There were foes here, He had no idea how many or even how to get out of the hold.

For a brief second He considered using the window He'd thrown the bitch through earlier. He remembered something though that made Him stop and turn back to the door. There was something He had to take care of.

He came through the door into the hall fast and low, His body muscled and agile as one of the Tiger Clan that guarded His Dale. He saw the two who had dragged Him into the woman's quarters immediately and moved directly at them.

The first made a mistake that cost him his life immediately. He moved toward the Questor challengingly raising his sword only to find his arm had somehow disappeared along with his weapon. As he stared in horror at his life blood pumping from his severed arm the back stroke ended his suffering slicing the top of his skull completely off.

The other one ran, the Bowie leaped from its sheath on the Questor's back and He threw it, hamstringing the second guard. All of this had occurred in a startling quick time, and by the time the second guard hit the floor at the top of the stairs the Questor was on him. The Bowie quivered next to the guard on the floor and leaped unbidden back to the Questor's hand; He quickly sheathed it and grabbing the guard up, slammed him up against the wall.

The Questor's blue orbs of steel revealed His blazing intensity as He stared directly into the guard's face. "How many of you are there and how do I get back to the cell you took Me from?"

The guard whimpered and wet himself, he knew that he would die this day by the Questor's sword but he held onto the slightest glimmer of hope. There are only 3 others Master Questor, the main body has not yet arrived."

The Questor nodded, "The cell man, take Me to the cell!"