Just to get back in the habbit of writing i wrote this up because the description of Death's whisper inspired me. I wrote it like it is an excerpt from a story...


As he dove into the depths of the twisting nether Jastar had only one thought on his mind.

Sylvia.

This was his one and only thought. Jastar felt the shocking chill sink through his flesh and bones seeming to hit his very soul with the frigid blast as he passed into the netherworld. Jastar had lost any doubt or other focus. He had left behind the scene that he refused to accept. His enchanted eyes pierced the haze in front of him. He was breaking all the rules now and he didn’t care. Jastar only had one single purpose filling his every thought and action.

Get her back, Save her.

As he burst from the swirling lavender vortex in to a world of near absolute blackness, the chill of the grave only grew stronger. Jastar could feel it immediately and soon his enchanted eyes could see them as well. Already spirits were surrounding him, their invisible, incorporeal, hands grabbing on to him passing through him trying to get him out of this place. He knew the longer he was here the more would gather and the stronger their efforts would become. Jastar did not belong in this place. This was a purgatory for spirits, the land of the dead. Those who were taken by death came here before they moved on to their final destination. But many were forced to stay in this place because they cheated or angered death in some way that granted him authority over their souls.

Jastar could end up trapped just like the rest of them if he didn’t keep moving quickly. The vortex behind him was already slowly growing smaller. None of these things slowed him though. His one and only goal would be fulfilled or he would die trying. Jastar looked to the ground and sure enough he could see the red footprints that marked the path he needed to follow.

Jastar moved along this path feeling the presence he had met a few times before as he continued to move through the black. Steam was rising from his body because of the warmth of his own body being such a great contrast to the chill of the world around him. Now even without an enchantment the spirits were starting to become visible, gathering and merging to join their efforts to toss him from this place or trap him here and force him to join their number. Ahead he could make out the shape. A hooded figure walking away from Jastar carrying something. Jastar knew what it was. And called out after the one leaving the red footprint trail. “SHE’S NOT YOURS!” He bellowed as he began to run at the figure.

The tall black hooded figure turned to face him as he advanced and sure enough he saw the faint white silhouette. As he drew closer more detail could be drawn from it and the white form beame that of his beloved. Sylvia.

“She is now, someone killed her, the dead are mine, you know that Jastar.” Death’s voice was one of indeterminate gender and held no emotion in it. Nevertheless, despite the warning, Jastar continued to charge. Death saw as his arms and legs and body swelled. The enchanted berserker’s body mass doubled as he charged. This made him twice as muscular and intimidating a figure as before. “SHE DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU! IT WASN’T HER TIME!” Jastar bellowed as he lunged and wrapped his arms about the form within Death’s arms.

Let me save this one, if no other, not even myself, let me save this one. He prayed to whatever unknown force governed the enchantment that he had known was upon him for most of his life. As he did so, his body glowed with a red light for a brief moment and in the next second he was able to feel all the hands of the growing and merging spirits about hi m that were quickly becoming a large battle wraith, but more importantly he was able to feel Sylvia’s spirit within his arms. He jerked back holding tightly and freed her from the arms of death.

Instantly Flames appeared about the feet of death one sleeve vanished into the other and then emerged holding a wicked looking knife and it was swiftly raised overhead ready to be plunged into a target. Attempting to protect Sylvia Jastar drove his shoulder hard into death but just before the being went flying and vanished from the blow. Jastar felt a sharp pain in his arm and figured the blade must have sliced him.

Rapidly the flames that had been at death’s feet grew high and Jastar knew he was reforming to try to keep what he had claimed and punish Jastar. Jastar had had a plan. He turned towards the giant wraith formed by the spirits and shouted. “COME AND GET ME!” they took the bait and gripped onto him with one large spectral hand. Jastar clutched the spirit of Sylvia tightly to him and felt himself be lifted and then hurled through the air straight towards the swirling vortex. Behind them came the tremendous bellow.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” death cried out angrily but Jastar did not look back. He passed through the vortex and in moments emerged on the other side. In the luxurious warmth of the sun, Jastar saw their healer friend Corinth had bandaged the wound in the time Jastar had been gone. The body had been tended to without the soul within and on seeing Jastar he began to attempt to resuscitate Sylvia. Jastar walked to the body and set down the invisible spirit over it. Silently he watched Corinth continue to work as he held her hand. Slowly, Warmth seemed to return to it. Then Corinth finally stopped and leaned back. “Her heart is beating on it’s own y... Jastar! Your shoulder!” he exclaimed pointing to the upper Jastar’s right shoulder.

“I guess death left me a little memento.” He shrugged painfully in reply to the exclaimed question about the black knife protruding from him. A twisted purple light wrapped about the hilt of the blade. Jastar could feel the magic entering him from the blade. Corinth moved to try to pull it out and yelped in pain as the light seemed to burn him at the touch.

“It’s cursed…Jastar, Death cursed you for what you did.” Corinth spoke in a grave and warning manner. “Do you realize just how bad this is? If death is what man fears most, Death’s curses can only be worse. The chance of any escape from whatever nightmare is beginning to take hold of you is slim to none.” Corinth paused for a moment his eyes still fixed on the glowing protrusion. “No being on this earth would trade places with you for anything.”

As Jastar continued to gaze upon the peaceful face of his unconscious beloved, he squeezed her hand a little tighter. “Nor would I with them…” was all he said.

For you Sylvia, anything for you…