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| Title = The Days of the Olthoi | | Title = The Days of the Olthoi | ||
| Text =<i>by Trothis</i><br><br>The day was cold and dark, but the residents of the underground Olthoi lair hadn't the slightest idea of the drizzling misery outdoors. All they knew was the misery they beheld each day in the dark, stench-filled caverns. Most of the human inhabitants were lonely beings; however, scattered around the caves were pieces of families who had come to the lands of Dereth together. One of these small, self-contained groups consisted of three people. These being two sons, Rothert and Brinson, and their mother, Linere. They had lived here for many months and had begun to forget their old lives -- the result of their lack of sleep, for the Olthoi only let them sleep for as long as they could hide from the patrols.<br><br>After the crusted black body of an Olthoi patrol passed, Linere sat down on the jagged rock floor to rest from stirring the slimy substance the Olthoi enjoyed so much. She summoned her two young boys to rest beside her for a while. They promptly left the stirring sticks and slipped down beside their mother. Her weathered skin made her look ancient in the eyes of her boys. She sat for a while and nursed her blistered and bleeding hands, continuously ravaged by the rough stirring stick she monotonously swirled around the large pot day after day.<br><br>"When is this nightmare going to end for us, Mother?" asked Brinson, the older of the two boys, in a pitiful tone. Brinson was an inquisitive young man who was extremely bright for his age. His brother, Rothert, on the other hand, had hardly said a word since they were taken captive by the mighty Olthoi soldiers, scouring the countryside for signs of more humans they could enslave.<br><br>"Do not worry Brin. One day we will be free again. I have heard rumors of a woman who escaped this prison, but I do not know how much to believe these stories."<br><br>Just then Linere saw an Olthoi patrol working it's way hastily toward them from across the large cavern. She quickly pushed her children with a strong arm toward their pots and attended to her own. The Olthoi loomed over them as it finally reached their area. With bloodthirsty eyes, it looked upon them, but slowly began walking away with its long claws scraping and scratching the rock floor. This was the constant cycle of things. They could almost keep track of the days by the repetitive schedule.<br><br>However, this time was different. There was something about the way the Olthoi looked at them and walked toward the narrow end of the cave instead of the wide end, as was usual. Linere felt an uneasiness, and it was showing on her face. The neighboring human slaves nervously glanced in her direction with looks of worry and foreknowledge of trouble.<br><br>Unfortunately, trouble came soon enough. As Linere was stirring her pot, she caught some odd movements in the dark narrow end of the cave. As she glanced over, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the “deathbringer” as they called it. An Olthoi noble. It was called upon to carry out the execution of poor workers now and again. Linere's throat tightened with fear and passed quick glances at her two children to her left side.<br><br>"Mother, don't be afraid. They could never hurt us," said Brinson with a shaky and unsure voice. Unfortunately, the Olthoi noble heard Brinson's words of encouragement to his mother. It was well known by all that human speech was not allowed. The noble quickly scampered over to the boy and slouched lowly to get a better look at him.<br><br>Linere froze in fright. Rothert had sat down behind his large pot and was hugging his knees close to his chest. Linere watched the noble for any sign that it was going to strike her boy. Finally, she saw it. It happened so fast. Before she could do anything, the arm of the great noble had punctured her son. A sudden numbness spread rapidly across her body as she dashed to catch Brinson on his final descent to the solid earth.<br><br>The noble, however, struck her down before she even got a foot from her place. Rothert buried his face in his knees and whimpered softly. The “deathbringer” was leaving now. All was quiet again. The human occupants of those caverns saw this many times, and each time it simply made the slaves even more humble and obedient to the mammoth evil creatures which plagued their lives with suffering.<br><br>Later on, no one could remember what happened to Rothert. Some believe that he himself perished in those death-filled caves, but others believe he is in some remote corner of Dereth still grieving for his family and possibly planning retribution. I personally believe that he died shortly after his brother and mother. It was uncommon for a lone child as young as him to last longer than a few days. | | Text = | ||
[[File:Img olthoi.jpg|left]] | |||
<div style="margin-left:15%"><i>by Trothis</i><br><br>The day was cold and dark, but the residents of the underground Olthoi lair hadn't the slightest idea of the drizzling misery outdoors. All they knew was the misery they beheld each day in the dark, stench-filled caverns. Most of the human inhabitants were lonely beings; however, scattered around the caves were pieces of families who had come to the lands of Dereth together. One of these small, self-contained groups consisted of three people. These being two sons, Rothert and Brinson, and their mother, Linere. They had lived here for many months and had begun to forget their old lives -- the result of their lack of sleep, for the Olthoi only let them sleep for as long as they could hide from the patrols.<br><br>After the crusted black body of an Olthoi patrol passed, Linere sat down on the jagged rock floor to rest from stirring the slimy substance the Olthoi enjoyed so much. She summoned her two young boys to rest beside her for a while. They promptly left the stirring sticks and slipped down beside their mother. Her weathered skin made her look ancient in the eyes of her boys. She sat for a while and nursed her blistered and bleeding hands, continuously ravaged by the rough stirring stick she monotonously swirled around the large pot day after day.<br><br>"When is this nightmare going to end for us, Mother?" asked Brinson, the older of the two boys, in a pitiful tone. Brinson was an inquisitive young man who was extremely bright for his age. His brother, Rothert, on the other hand, had hardly said a word since they were taken captive by the mighty Olthoi soldiers, scouring the countryside for signs of more humans they could enslave.<br><br>"Do not worry Brin. One day we will be free again. I have heard rumors of a woman who escaped this prison, but I do not know how much to believe these stories."<br><br>Just then Linere saw an Olthoi patrol working it's way hastily toward them from across the large cavern. She quickly pushed her children with a strong arm toward their pots and attended to her own. The Olthoi loomed over them as it finally reached their area. With bloodthirsty eyes, it looked upon them, but slowly began walking away with its long claws scraping and scratching the rock floor. This was the constant cycle of things. They could almost keep track of the days by the repetitive schedule.<br><br>However, this time was different. There was something about the way the Olthoi looked at them and walked toward the narrow end of the cave instead of the wide end, as was usual. Linere felt an uneasiness, and it was showing on her face. The neighboring human slaves nervously glanced in her direction with looks of worry and foreknowledge of trouble.<br><br>Unfortunately, trouble came soon enough. As Linere was stirring her pot, she caught some odd movements in the dark narrow end of the cave. As she glanced over, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the “deathbringer” as they called it. An Olthoi noble. It was called upon to carry out the execution of poor workers now and again. Linere's throat tightened with fear and passed quick glances at her two children to her left side.<br><br>"Mother, don't be afraid. They could never hurt us," said Brinson with a shaky and unsure voice. Unfortunately, the Olthoi noble heard Brinson's words of encouragement to his mother. It was well known by all that human speech was not allowed. The noble quickly scampered over to the boy and slouched lowly to get a better look at him.<br><br>Linere froze in fright. Rothert had sat down behind his large pot and was hugging his knees close to his chest. Linere watched the noble for any sign that it was going to strike her boy. Finally, she saw it. It happened so fast. Before she could do anything, the arm of the great noble had punctured her son. A sudden numbness spread rapidly across her body as she dashed to catch Brinson on his final descent to the solid earth.<br><br>The noble, however, struck her down before she even got a foot from her place. Rothert buried his face in his knees and whimpered softly. The “deathbringer” was leaving now. All was quiet again. The human occupants of those caverns saw this many times, and each time it simply made the slaves even more humble and obedient to the mammoth evil creatures which plagued their lives with suffering.<br><br>Later on, no one could remember what happened to Rothert. Some believe that he himself perished in those death-filled caves, but others believe he is in some remote corner of Dereth still grieving for his family and possibly planning retribution. I personally believe that he died shortly after his brother and mother. It was uncommon for a lone child as young as him to last longer than a few days. | |||
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[[Category:Fan Fiction]] | [[Category:Fan Fiction]] | ||
Revision as of 21:42, 3 July 2009
For the text, see: The Days of the Olthoi
Original Link (now dead) - http://classic.zone.msn.com/asheronscall/ASHEdaysolthoi.asp
The Days of the Olthoi
by Trothis
The day was cold and dark, but the residents of the underground Olthoi lair hadn't the slightest idea of the drizzling misery outdoors. All they knew was the misery they beheld each day in the dark, stench-filled caverns. Most of the human inhabitants were lonely beings; however, scattered around the caves were pieces of families who had come to the lands of Dereth together. One of these small, self-contained groups consisted of three people. These being two sons, Rothert and Brinson, and their mother, Linere. They had lived here for many months and had begun to forget their old lives -- the result of their lack of sleep, for the Olthoi only let them sleep for as long as they could hide from the patrols.
After the crusted black body of an Olthoi patrol passed, Linere sat down on the jagged rock floor to rest from stirring the slimy substance the Olthoi enjoyed so much. She summoned her two young boys to rest beside her for a while. They promptly left the stirring sticks and slipped down beside their mother. Her weathered skin made her look ancient in the eyes of her boys. She sat for a while and nursed her blistered and bleeding hands, continuously ravaged by the rough stirring stick she monotonously swirled around the large pot day after day.
"When is this nightmare going to end for us, Mother?" asked Brinson, the older of the two boys, in a pitiful tone. Brinson was an inquisitive young man who was extremely bright for his age. His brother, Rothert, on the other hand, had hardly said a word since they were taken captive by the mighty Olthoi soldiers, scouring the countryside for signs of more humans they could enslave.
"Do not worry Brin. One day we will be free again. I have heard rumors of a woman who escaped this prison, but I do not know how much to believe these stories."
Just then Linere saw an Olthoi patrol working it's way hastily toward them from across the large cavern. She quickly pushed her children with a strong arm toward their pots and attended to her own. The Olthoi loomed over them as it finally reached their area. With bloodthirsty eyes, it looked upon them, but slowly began walking away with its long claws scraping and scratching the rock floor. This was the constant cycle of things. They could almost keep track of the days by the repetitive schedule.
However, this time was different. There was something about the way the Olthoi looked at them and walked toward the narrow end of the cave instead of the wide end, as was usual. Linere felt an uneasiness, and it was showing on her face. The neighboring human slaves nervously glanced in her direction with looks of worry and foreknowledge of trouble.
Unfortunately, trouble came soon enough. As Linere was stirring her pot, she caught some odd movements in the dark narrow end of the cave. As she glanced over, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the “deathbringer” as they called it. An Olthoi noble. It was called upon to carry out the execution of poor workers now and again. Linere's throat tightened with fear and passed quick glances at her two children to her left side.
"Mother, don't be afraid. They could never hurt us," said Brinson with a shaky and unsure voice. Unfortunately, the Olthoi noble heard Brinson's words of encouragement to his mother. It was well known by all that human speech was not allowed. The noble quickly scampered over to the boy and slouched lowly to get a better look at him.
Linere froze in fright. Rothert had sat down behind his large pot and was hugging his knees close to his chest. Linere watched the noble for any sign that it was going to strike her boy. Finally, she saw it. It happened so fast. Before she could do anything, the arm of the great noble had punctured her son. A sudden numbness spread rapidly across her body as she dashed to catch Brinson on his final descent to the solid earth.
The noble, however, struck her down before she even got a foot from her place. Rothert buried his face in his knees and whimpered softly. The “deathbringer” was leaving now. All was quiet again. The human occupants of those caverns saw this many times, and each time it simply made the slaves even more humble and obedient to the mammoth evil creatures which plagued their lives with suffering.
Later on, no one could remember what happened to Rothert. Some believe that he himself perished in those death-filled caves, but others believe he is in some remote corner of Dereth still grieving for his family and possibly planning retribution. I personally believe that he died shortly after his brother and mother. It was uncommon for a lone child as young as him to last longer than a few days.
The day was cold and dark, but the residents of the underground Olthoi lair hadn't the slightest idea of the drizzling misery outdoors. All they knew was the misery they beheld each day in the dark, stench-filled caverns. Most of the human inhabitants were lonely beings; however, scattered around the caves were pieces of families who had come to the lands of Dereth together. One of these small, self-contained groups consisted of three people. These being two sons, Rothert and Brinson, and their mother, Linere. They had lived here for many months and had begun to forget their old lives -- the result of their lack of sleep, for the Olthoi only let them sleep for as long as they could hide from the patrols.
After the crusted black body of an Olthoi patrol passed, Linere sat down on the jagged rock floor to rest from stirring the slimy substance the Olthoi enjoyed so much. She summoned her two young boys to rest beside her for a while. They promptly left the stirring sticks and slipped down beside their mother. Her weathered skin made her look ancient in the eyes of her boys. She sat for a while and nursed her blistered and bleeding hands, continuously ravaged by the rough stirring stick she monotonously swirled around the large pot day after day.
"When is this nightmare going to end for us, Mother?" asked Brinson, the older of the two boys, in a pitiful tone. Brinson was an inquisitive young man who was extremely bright for his age. His brother, Rothert, on the other hand, had hardly said a word since they were taken captive by the mighty Olthoi soldiers, scouring the countryside for signs of more humans they could enslave.
"Do not worry Brin. One day we will be free again. I have heard rumors of a woman who escaped this prison, but I do not know how much to believe these stories."
Just then Linere saw an Olthoi patrol working it's way hastily toward them from across the large cavern. She quickly pushed her children with a strong arm toward their pots and attended to her own. The Olthoi loomed over them as it finally reached their area. With bloodthirsty eyes, it looked upon them, but slowly began walking away with its long claws scraping and scratching the rock floor. This was the constant cycle of things. They could almost keep track of the days by the repetitive schedule.
However, this time was different. There was something about the way the Olthoi looked at them and walked toward the narrow end of the cave instead of the wide end, as was usual. Linere felt an uneasiness, and it was showing on her face. The neighboring human slaves nervously glanced in her direction with looks of worry and foreknowledge of trouble.
Unfortunately, trouble came soon enough. As Linere was stirring her pot, she caught some odd movements in the dark narrow end of the cave. As she glanced over, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the “deathbringer” as they called it. An Olthoi noble. It was called upon to carry out the execution of poor workers now and again. Linere's throat tightened with fear and passed quick glances at her two children to her left side.
"Mother, don't be afraid. They could never hurt us," said Brinson with a shaky and unsure voice. Unfortunately, the Olthoi noble heard Brinson's words of encouragement to his mother. It was well known by all that human speech was not allowed. The noble quickly scampered over to the boy and slouched lowly to get a better look at him.
Linere froze in fright. Rothert had sat down behind his large pot and was hugging his knees close to his chest. Linere watched the noble for any sign that it was going to strike her boy. Finally, she saw it. It happened so fast. Before she could do anything, the arm of the great noble had punctured her son. A sudden numbness spread rapidly across her body as she dashed to catch Brinson on his final descent to the solid earth.
The noble, however, struck her down before she even got a foot from her place. Rothert buried his face in his knees and whimpered softly. The “deathbringer” was leaving now. All was quiet again. The human occupants of those caverns saw this many times, and each time it simply made the slaves even more humble and obedient to the mammoth evil creatures which plagued their lives with suffering.
Later on, no one could remember what happened to Rothert. Some believe that he himself perished in those death-filled caves, but others believe he is in some remote corner of Dereth still grieving for his family and possibly planning retribution. I personally believe that he died shortly after his brother and mother. It was uncommon for a lone child as young as him to last longer than a few days.
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