Kevin's Watch

Avatar wrote:Bah, minor typo. Nothing to do with being too lazy to check back for the spelling.

StevieG wrote:You could've just looked at my post - I mean, I just read it!

Avatar wrote: What, and scroll?

--A

Avatar wrote:Just starting House of Chains again.

--A

Avatar wrote:The Andii have black skin, and white or black hair. The skin of the Edur is grey. Not sure about their hair, but probably grey or brown. And the Edur are more barbaric in style. Long houses and stuff like that.

--A

In the ancient fortress that had once functioned as a monastery for the Nameless Ones, but had been old even then - its makers long forgotten - there was only darkness. On its lowermost level there was a single chamber, its floor rifted above a rushing underground river.

In the icy depths, chained by Elder sorcery to the bedrock, lay a massive, armoured warrior. Thelomen Toblakai, pure of blood, that had known the curse of demonic possession, a possession that had devoured its own sense of self - the noble warrior had ceased to exist long, long ago.

Yet now, the body writhed in its magical chains. The demon was gone, fled with the outpouring of blood - blood that should never have existed, given the decayed state of the creature, yet existed it had, and the river had swept it to freedom. To a distant waterhole, where a bull enkar'al - a beast in its prime - had been crouching to drink.

The enkar'al had been alone for some time - not even the spoor of others of its kind could be found anywhere nearby. Though it had not sensed the passage of time, decades had in fact passed since it last encountered its own kind. Indeed, it had been fated - given a normal course of life - to never again mate. With its death, the extinction of the enkar'al anywhere east of the Jhag Odhan would have been complete.

But now its soul raged in a strange, gelid body - no wings, no thundering hearts, no prey-laden scent to draw from the desert's night air. Something held it down, and imprisonment was proving a swift path to mindless madness.

Far above, the fortress was silent and dark. The air was motionless once more, barring the faint sighs from draughts that flowed in from the outer chambers.

Rage and terror. Unanswered, except by the promise of eternity.

Or so it would have remained.

Had the Beast Thrones stayed unoccupied.

Had not the reawakened wolf gods known an urgent need...for a champion.

Their presence reached into the creature's soul, calmed it with visions of a world where there were enkar'al in the muddy skies, where bull males locked jaws in the fierce heat of the breeding season, the females banking in circles far above. Visions that brought peace to the ensnared soul - though with it came a deep sorrow, for the body that now clothed it was...wrong.

A time of service, then. The reward - to rejoin its kin in the skies of another realm.

Beasts were not strangers to hope, nor unmindful of such things as rewards.

Besides, this champion would taste blood...and soon.

For the moment, however, there was a skein of sorcerous bindings to unravel...

Onos T'oolan wrote:I'm here on my Malazan reread. Third time reading this one. I'm almost done with Book 1, starring a naive, ill-tempered, really really strong Teblor. Actually, I'm enjoying this part of the book more this time than the last two times I read it. Noticing more; tying things together. I'd forgotten that he found a little statue of Fener in the town, and smashed it.

Holy cow!!! I just read the previous post, by Av, as I previewed my above paragraph!!