Trials, Tribulations, and Applications (Part One)

[Fallen]

Originally posted on the official boards, in the River's Rest town folder.

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"Kurchell the Scribe is most certainly not an overly bright man.", thought Kurchell the Scribe.

The well dressed, though clearly dismayed human pondered this self realization as he hastily dashed across River's Road, making his way towards the northern end of town. For most of his adult life, Kurchell had always believed to the contrary; pleased as he was with his relative level of success in his given trade. Where else but on this isle could Kurchell find so many illiterate, yet dubiously wealthy clients conveniently dependent on his particular set of skills? However, as the pitiable tradesman stared down upon the sheet of paper confined within his hand, he knew without question that his newfound revelation was indeed correct.

The orchestrator of this infallible lesson came in the form of his newly acquired patron. Though Kurchell had been employed by Dark Elves several times before, his instincts had screamed for him to refuse the work of that ghastly newcomer upon the day he first paid visit to his shop. Sadly, in this instance, as it had so many others, his love of silver had once again overridden his sense of better judgment.

[Fallen]

As Kurchell's eyes drifted to rest once more upon the parchment clenched within his hand, he found himself quickening his already near frantic pace across the uneven terrain of Land's End Beach. It certainly wasn't Kurchell's plan to be traversing the streets of River's Rest in the dead of night. Nor was it Kurchell decision to spend hour after torturous hour painstakingly drafting the missive his employer had commissioned. Yet once the young calligrapher set his pen to the leaf of paper that bastard elf had so generously left his servant, he found he was somehow held hostage; cursed into completing his work with excruciating perfection.

Kurchell held no other thought but to form the next letter his master's message. His very existence had no meaning except to transfer the Dark Elf's once spoken demands into the written word. Upon at last penning the final ornately scrolled letter onto the entrancing document, the wearied human slumped back into his chair, seemingly released from the grasp of his foul employer's enchantment.
As the last vestiges of the spell's influence slowly lifted from Kurchell's mind, he noted first with dulled curiosity, then with a rising dread that his recently completed work was still held fast within his hand. He flailed his arms wildly, desperately pleading his fingers to release their grip on the paper. After several panicked moments of struggle, Kurchell breathed heavily as made a conscious effort pull together the ragged remnants of his memory from the night before. With his recollection of the previous evening slowly returning to him, the Dark Elf's parting comments came crisply into focus.

"Once finished with your work you will immediately deliver the letter to the gates of the Palisade." The ebony skinned elf had stated. "I warn you now, Human. Any delays in my demands, however slight, will be met with repercussions of a like that I truly believe you will find most unpleasant."

Kurchell's mind played through these words time and again as he continually lengthened his stride in his haste to reach the Sorcerer's Guild. As he eyed the Palisade's black gate and foreboding guardsmen, Kurchell spoke the words "Most unpleasant" aloud, using the thinly veiled threat as some twisted mockery of a litany against fear. With a last quivering intake of air to steal his nerves, the beleaguered tradesman shuffled forward to address hooded guard.

[Edited on 12-25-2004 by Fallen]