DDO Olympics Storytelling: Round 1

The information took a second or two to process. Then Lord Ravensworth tried lifting his head. It felt as though his own body resisted his commands, for his neck didn't even twitch. The sensation terrified Lord Ravensworth. He almost thought he would rather experience the full extent of the pain than this nothingness. Cardin leaned in close. He brushed a strand of hair out of Lord Ravensworth's face. Lord Ravensworth tried to speak, but he had no control over his lips or tongue. He could only stare helplessly at Cardin. His eyes were glaciers. "Don't waste this gift, Nathair," Cardin whispered into the captive man's ear. "Real or not, your dreams are better than anything left for you here." Straightening up, Cardin returned to his work. Mustering all his strength, Lord Ravensworth forced his lips apart, but the only sound to escape was a tortured "iiiiii." Cardin didn't turn around. "Brother Jones calls this process Endarkening," he said. "I disagree. Sure, you're leaving behind this plane of existence, but you're not dying, as Gren believed - no, you're living." Cardin finished setting up the IV feed. Lord Ravensworth watched as the liquid pulsed into his body. It was the same shade of blue as Cardin's eyes. Cardin paused at the doorway. He glanced back at Lord Ravensworth. "Nathair." His voice dropped its icy demeanor. "Don't wake up. Please." He said something else, too, but Lord Ravensworth was no longer capable of hearing. "Have you ever fired a gun before?" Arthur asked, a dopey grin stretching across his face. Nathair examined the pistol in his hands. "Not this kind. A - what did you call it?""It's a Desert Eagle. It's not really all that different. Here." Arthur corrected Nathair's stance. "Try and hit the cone." "Don't we need, like, ear protection?""No, Nathair. It's silenced. Go ahead." Nathair took a deep breath. He aimed, taking care to keep his hands steady, and fired. The blast nearly deafened him. "What the HELL? You said it was silenced!" Arthur was literally on the ground, laughing. "I lied," he managed between hysterics. Nathair was just contemplating turning the gun on his half-brother when Arthur jumped up. "Look!" He shouted. "You hit it!" Nathair followed Arthur's finger. Sure enough, the cone had toppled onto its back. If there was a hole in it, Nathair couldn't tell from where he stood. Ethan stomped into view. "Keep it down!" He shouted. "Goddamn, that was the loudest thing I've ever heard!" "Sorry!" Arthur called back. He and Nathair traded glances, and they both burst out laughing. True. Maria rested her head on Nathair's shoulder. They stood at the top of the lighthouse, staring out over the sea, listening to its soothing roar as it crashed against the shore below. "Have you ever made pictures with the stars?" Maria asked. "You mean constellations?" "Sure. Be all scientific." He chuckled. "I did it a lot as a kid," Maria admitted. "I was kind of an outcast. I just - I wasn't interested in how limiting everything was down here, you know?" Nathair nodded. He knew all about being limited. "And everything out there! It's so infinite! I mean..." she stopped talking as a rosy blush brightened her cheeks. "What is it?""No." She looked away. "It's too embarrassing." "Maria. My last name is Ravensworth. I know about embarrassing." That made her smile. "Alright. I always thought - ugh, this sounds so stupid! - I used to think they were calling to me." "Calling?""Yes. Shining down on me, inviting me to join them in boundless freedom." Nathair studied Maria. Something glistened on her eyelashes. He pretended not to notice. "You get poetic when you talk about the stars," he observed. "Don't we all get poetic about something?" "I don't." Maria glanced at him. "Really? Then I guess I'll have to give you something to be poetic about." She wrapped her arms around him and set their faces inches apart. Nathair could feel her breath against his skin. He suddenly wished he had brushed his teeth that morning, but Maria didn't seem to mind. She hesitated another few seconds. They both waited, as if for a sign, as if painted into a still portrait. Then she leaned forward.True. His father sat across from him at a long, wooden table. They ate in silence. Once finished, his father rose and departed, leaving the plates of roasted ham, the bottles of vintage wine, and all the accessories to the luxurious feast. He never said a word.True?Memory continued blurring with fantasy. Maria's face, red as a strawberry in her rage, hurling accusations like spears.Ethan, staring at Nathair like he was a complete stranger, before vomiting all over him. The way Arthur lay in the backseat of what remained of his jeep. His eyes were still open.False? False? True? Lord Ravensworth didn't know anymore. How much of his life was his own and how much was imagination? How much belonged to him, and how much belonged to the spectator shifting through his memories? Was there even a difference? Dreams were reality and reality was a dream. The cardinal directions broke away from their home and drifted apart until the sea swallowed them. The world hadn't turned upside-down - there was no upside-down or right side-up. The sea was everywhere, around Lord Ravensworth, inside Lord Ravensworth, becoming a part of him until he felt indistinguishable from the dark waters. Compared to the onslaught of fantastical memories, the blackness was bliss. Lord Ravensworth couldn't tell if he was sinking or rising, and he longer cared. Let it end. Let it end. That's all he wanted. Then light pierced the darkness, stabbing through the waters until it cast a pale, shimmering glow around Lord Ravensworth. Warmth flooded into his body, lending him the strength to push through the water. Such a bright light. So inviting. Lord Ravensworth inched closer and closer. It felt like he was swimming through tar instead of water, but somehow, he made it. The lighthouse cast the full strength of its beam on Lord Ravensworth. Standing before it, silhouetted against it, was a figure. He couldn't discern anything about it, but he knew, somehow, it was Maria. He looked into what must be her eyes, saw her lips move, and heard the words, the only words that mattered. Lord Ravensworth opened his eyes. He was back in the operating room. The bright blue ceiling welcomed him back. Lord Ravensworth had never been so happy to see a color so bright. "Got it," a gruff voice growled. With surprise, Lord Ravensworth realized he could turn his neck. He looked to the side and saw a familiar man ripping the IV drip away. "Gren!" Gren let the medical tool fall to the floor and crushed it underfoot. He flipped his hair. "Hello, Nathair." "Gren - how?" A sudden stab of pain prevented the rest of the question. Lord Ravensworth winced. The morphine staved off the worst of the blast, but the throbbing at the bottom of his legs was obnoxiously persistent. "They tried this same rubbish on me," Gren said. "We're fortunate they underestimated how much it would take to knock me out." He shifted, and Lord Ravensworth noticed the broken vials littering the floor. "Sorry about last night. I thought you were the one working for them." "Cardin fooled us all," whispered Lord Ravensworth. Gren's hands clenched. "Wait till I get ahold of that bastard." Gren coughed. He looked at Lord Ravensworth. "Can you move?" Lord Ravensworth shook his head. "Gren, they...they...." He couldn't even say it. Weakly, every muscle in his arm trembling, he pointed toward his legs. Gren marched over and peered under the blanket. He sucked in his breath. "That son of a -" a second cough interrupted his curse. Despite the pain, Lord Ravensworth nodded in agreement. Just having the liberty to make that simple movement felt like a rebirth. Gren heaved a sigh that shook his entire frame. He sank down against the bed. "We're quite a pair," he said. "You, unable to walk. Me...well, don't worry about me.""I am now," Lord Ravensworth said. "What's wrong?" Gren fell silent for several seconds. "They shot me," he said. Lord Ravensworth tried to sit and immediately regretted it. "They WHAT?""You don't think I reached you through stealth?" Gren laughed, a sound that rapidly turned into an ugly hack. There was the sound of blood splattering on the floor. "There must be something -!""There isn't." Lord Ravensworth glanced around the room. Shattered glass. Syringes. Medical tools. An old wheelchair. No bandages in sight. But...."Gren.""Yeah?""Can you get me into that wheelchair?" There was another chuckle, and Gren's massive figure reappeared in Lord Ravensworth's line of sight. He scooped Lord Ravensworth into his arms as though he weighed as much as a baby. Then he staggered toward the wheelchair. With every step, Lord Ravensworth feared they would topple over together, and that would be the end of everything. But somehow, Gren kept moving. He reached the wheelchair and, with a noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan, deposited Lord Ravensworth. This effort proved to be too much, however, and Gren collapsed. "Gren! GREN!" The burly man opened his eyes. He stared directly at Lord Ravensworth. From this angle, Lord Ravensworth could easily see the red pooling into Gren's clothes and onto the floor. It looked as though he'd spilled paint on himself. Gren's hand scuttled around like an insect before locating the object of its search. The hand rose toward Lord Ravensworth, offering him a handgun. Lord Ravensworth glanced at it. "Take it," Gren said, "and kill them all." Lord Ravensworth accepted the weapon. Gren coughed again, and more blood oozed out from his mouth. Lord Ravensworth's vision blurred. Gren croaked out his name. "What is it, Gren?" "Were there...did you see women, Nathair?" Lord Ravensworth no longer cared about the tears trickling down his cheeks. "Yes, Gren." Gren looked up at the ceiling. A smile crested his bloodstained lips. "Women," he said happily, and closed his eyes for the last time.