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 Time's Prisoner

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Posts : 346
Join date : 2009-10-27
Age : 27
Location : Bangor, Wales

PostSubject: Time's Prisoner   Sun Jul 25, 2010 10:36 am

I thought it might be appreciated if I contributed to this lovely contest idea. I think I'm still 5 hours within the deadline, so hurrah! 1024 words here, just in limit, and it is about the only thing I can even write about. Still, enjoy!

Gently, a cool breeze wafts its unfaltering passage through the mountains of Dun Morogh, where its chill disturbs naught save the expansive heights of the resilient pine trees' uppermost branches. Here, Dwarves and Gnomes had delved into the mountains, forging homes out of the very bedrock of Azeroth itself. Here, life flourishes, despite the desolate chill and oppressive glaciers. Here, children laugh and grow into strong, heroic men and women. Here, old veterans while away the twilight years of their life in peace and comfort, for none disturb the stronghold of the Alliance. Yet here also, tucked away into the very corner of the mountains, minding their own business, the Ice Trolls of the Frostmane Tribe wield their lives, far different to the civilised society that stands also present in these rugged peaks. Here, in this primitive village, there is a fire. It is a warming, refreshing fire - it empowers the spirit and drives forth the bitter chill of the frosty wind. Sitting beside this fire, there are two trolls. One is a man, his height impressive by the standards of any other race of Azeroth. Aged, his white hair has been tied back; his garb and attire that of a Seer and a worker of the Elemental powers of Ice and Flame. He smiles softly - towards the other figure, whose skin is pale blue, like the first. Their eyes are shrouded, their form distorted, yet this woman watches the first with keen attention. His fingers work quickly against a large pack of ornate, expertly made cards.

Shuffled quickly, the peaceful demeanour of the mountains, the fire and the shining night sky, littered with stars, high above - is shattered as the cards sweep out into a levitating spray before the woman, each card equally presented to her. The fire sputters, growing dim and dark as sparks scorch up into the night sky. She pauses, her stubby finger travelling the arrayed deck before, and in her own good time, selecting four cards. One after the other, they array themselves in the air before her - so that she might not see what resides on the picture side of the cards. Reaching forth, the male troll mutters in their own tongue, as he reclaims the remaining deck from the air. Speaking again, she nods to him - looking at the cards one by one as they float gently in the air, untouched by the chill wind. She reaches out, touching her stubby finger against one card, which turns in response. There is a moment of silence as the card is turned - the three others simply vanishing into thin air - much to the surprise of man and woman, with the man so shocked that his expression quickly turns to a dark scowl.

Dark in colour, the background of this single card is of a pine forest in the mountains, and set in the centre of the card, atop a large tower is a steel cage, beside which a male elven figure stands - defiant as the jailor for this prison, in reds and gold, a sword held present at their side. Within the cage, darkness resides - darkness and two glowing green eyes, each potent in the dark night - gleaming out into the very centre of the woman's being as she looks back. Above the tower and the cage, a large hourglass rests – seemingly both full and empty at both times, and bound to the cage as a second layer of protection. Time itself is the prison that holds the thing within. Her gaze trails downwards, seeking the words at the bottom of the card - and as the other figure curses and attempts to knock the card from its levitating position, the light fails. Sparks shower upwards into the sky again as the fire explodes into nothingness. Both figures look sharply towards the fire, its glowing white and red embers enough light to illuminate a short figure who stands upon this shattered light-source. Barely the height of a troll's thigh, it smirks wickedly, as glittering yellow eyes sneer towards the pair and the card between them. One single cackle, one brief burst of snorting laughter spears itself through the sky as it leaps towards the card. Sensing danger, and knowing full well the demonic heritage of this impish creature, both trolls leap for the levitating card also.

Time slows, the outstretched fingers of three beings growing less active by the heartbeat, as all eyes fall upon the face of the card. Already, its image has changed - a mighty fist of muscular strength has grasped the bars of the cage from the inside, such that was not present before - and the jailor looks too shocked to defend himself. All eyes trail to the bottom of the card as all hands move closer, where three words reside. The woman has enough time to register both words before the imp manages to snatch the card first - and with a loud bang and a puff of dirty smoke, it is gone. Silence, peace, and calm falls upon the mountains again, though tainted by some strange, chilling presence. The woman and the man look directly at each other, each frowning. Pausing for a moment, the woman finally speaks the words she read, in their primitive tongue. "The Prisoner" She glances up towards the dark night sky, her eyes drawn towards a particularly bright star in the sky, "Neelroon."

Thousands of miles away to the south, lightning splinters around a vast tower - matched by the bellowing laugh of a mighty creature, and a tiny, impish companion. Upon the very highest point of the tower, bright lights flash and beam through the sky and into the land below as a mighty servant of the dreaded Destroyer is returned into being, to the point at which he left this timeline, by the Trickster.

Thousands of miles away again - the aged features of a long-dead woman contort into one of pain and agony. Her yellow eyes glint sadly in the dark of the night as she looks directly towards the tower, though it is out of sight. Her lips slowly part to speak, just as her eyes close again, voice barely a whisper in the night.

"The Champion of Doom... has returned."
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