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Ethos, Logos, and Pathos	By : The_King_in_White Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 3290 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragonlance Franchise, nor do I make a profit in the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Crystalinne
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Hello again my fellows, I seem to have given up on my writings of PWP. Maybe I will return to writing them in the future, maybe never again. Though don't worry, I'm sure that Rosa Tenebrum can keep even the most insatiable of us satiated. I will include the writing of lemons in this story, but it is my true intention to make of this something epic, or pretty fucking long. (Pardon the language.)
I hope you enjoy my story, Egos, Logos, and Pathos! (Working Title)
Now, onward!
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There was nothing to the world, nothing beyond the burning pain ripping through his body. It scratched at the back of his eyes, it tore through his lungs, ravaging his throat and screeching in his arteries, veins, and capillaries. Blood blossomed in his eyes, staining the whites of his eyes red. Crimson flowed out of his ears and his nose. It flowed from every laceration on his destroyed, feeble, and mortal body.
Raistlin Majere was dying.
His life slid away like so much as a handful of sand through open fingers, and his soul shivered in dread. If there was one thing that Raistlin feared, one thing that transcended all of his petty fears of emotions and pain, that one thing was a forgotten and ignoble death.
A Death like the one he was suffering. A death in the dark, along, powerless, and meaningless.
Awareness returned.
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Riastlin choked at the blood filling his lungs. He opened his eyes to the sight of the raging dragon form of Takhisis, the five screaming multi coloured heads as she tore up the ground in her fury. The gritty ground on hi cheek was like sandpaper, it would have undoubtably been a painful sensation if not for the other pain he was already experiencing.
Raistlin rolled over, from lying on his side to lying on his stomach. The sensation was nauseating and unnerving. He ignored it. 'There was still time.', he thought as he pushed onto his hands and knees. His bones creaked ominously as he pushed himself onto one knee. He could still change something, he could still make a difference. He could still prevent this inglorious end. Raistlin pushed himself to his feet.
His world exploded into a white hot agony that ended all thought.
The pain eventually ebbed and Raistlin found himself staring at the ground and his shockingly normal colored feet. He raised his face to observe his foe, trying not to notice the tearing pain he felt in his neck and back.
Takhisis was ripping apart the ground, throwing up mountains and ripping them down. He ran his eyes over the shifting earth to the portal to Kyrnn. Raistlin sighed in relief, Caramon had succeeded in closing the portal. Poor, dear, trustworthy Caramon that he had failed to love time and again. Raistlin mourned that had lost the chance to rectify that mistake, to make things right.
A sudden, ominous quieting in the sounds Takhisis had been making forced Raistlin to trail his eyes back to the Dark Goddess of Dragons. She was staring at him with her terrible red eyes that simply glittered with malevolence. She spoke with her inhuman throat, speaking in five voices. "I will tear you to shreds every day mortal, and torture you for the rest of eternity. You will never know peace." It was spoken not as a threat, but as a deadly promise.
He smiled. A triumphant smile full of mockery, both directed at her and at himself. He spoke with a mouth that was full of blood-stained teeth, "I won." It was said in such a way as to wound the goddess's pride, and wound her pride it did.
Takhisis gave an unholy screech. She glared at him, mouths open and full of dripping saliva. "You will regret that mortal!"
He laughed.
And the dragon lunged.
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If there was one thing that Raistlin had always been good at, it was was magic. He had never been good with people, he had never known a lover, he hated emotions and believed them for the weak-minded.
But the magic, that had always been his friend, his lover, and the recipient of all his emotions. For that was the secret of magic, you only got as much as you gave. Only when you gave and expected nothing in return would the magic work for you.
Raistlin prepared his magic, racing down the paths of his soul, traversing uncharted places that he knew better than he knew anything else. The path to magic was one he had often tread, giving to the magic and receiving power in return.
And when a mage gave everything he had to the magic, the spell he would then cast would be unlike any other spell he had ever cast. A mage's death curse could destroy or create entire cities.
Raistlin was no ordinary mage, he was much so more than just a mage. He was almost a god of magic. And his death curse could destroy the world.
It was this power he sought to use on Takhisis. This was his weapon, his final hope, the culmination of his life's work. He arrived at the place of magic in his soul, ready to shape a spell such as there had never been known before. And maybe he could achieve the victory he had sought during life in the jaws of death.
Only Raistlin never found magic in himself that day, he had no time to wonder at his abandonment. No time to spend tasting betrayal as a bitter bile in his last moments before the gleaming jaws of a furious goddess snapped around him.
No time to grieve, for he had found... something else.
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Raistlin found himself standing in a majestic hall, leading down to three thrones on a raised dais. He knew instinctively that this was the place in his soul where he had always found the magic. The thrones symbolizing that even as he fought a goddess and attempted ascension, they had always been his masters.
Stepping down the echoing hallway to stand before the thrones, he peered up at them. The light had dimmed at each step he had made, until he stood before three darkened thrones. Three thrones, with one person seated in one of them, he realized in a jolt.
Then the throne room's inhabitant stood and began to descend.
Raistlin cleared his throat automatically, prepared to plead his case before his gods. He realized with a small shock, that in here he was fully whole and untouched, even as he felt the pain in his body as a distant thing.
The man that stepped into the light was unlike any man he had seen before, and this man was certainly not one of the three gods of magic. Waist-length glimmering silver hair flowed straight down and framed an aristocratic face. Narrow golden eyes with slit pupils stared at Raistlin, and the tall well-built man stepped forward again. Almost into Raistlin's personal space.
The pale-skinned mage found his voice cold and full of fury that this being would be here, in his inner sanctuary.
"Who are you?"
"Who am I?" The rich baritone voice chuckled. The three thrones imploded into glimmering crystals, falling like snow.
"Why, I'm you."
And Raistlin understood.
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He found himself in his body, feeling all the aches and pains of the world was away in the torrent of power that now infused him. He raised his gleaming eyes to stare at the approaching five headed dragon, watching in slow motion as the goddess's faces changed from fury to surprise then realization.
And then into fear.
"What do you wish for?" The voice of the man, 'Myself', he thought. Echoed through his ears, varying in pitch and volume.
"I wish..." The image of himself at a far younger age flashed into his mind. "Fat innkeepers will bow to me!"
"I wish..." Unbidden, an image of Tasslehoff Burrfoot was in his mind, nattering about something nonsensical.
"I wish..." Raistlin, standing with Dalamar in his study learnig nthe secrets of power...
"I wish..." Crysania, Tanis, Laurana, Sturm, Tas, Flint, Caramon, and Raistlin. All happy, an image that never had and never would come to pass.
And then he knew. He knew what he wanted, what he needed, what his goal and his desire was.
Redemption.
"I wish... for the power... to destroy all evil."
And the voice was sad, as if it thought he had made the wrong choice. Or the right choice, one that would lead to sorrow and pain and misery. But it also sounded proud, as though knowing that the right choice is not always the easy one. That his sacrifices would bring him to his goal. The blue light surrounding him exploded.
"So be it."
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So, what do you kids think? Took like two hours for me to do. Had to start over because I'm writing online and the god damn back button... (grumble, grumble)
Anyway, leave me a review and tell me what you guys all think. I'll likely go and post this on fanfiction.net too.
You guys can always leave a question in a review if you have it, or you can e-mail. (E-mails are more likely to get a better answer)
Till next time, see ya!
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Ethos, Logos, and Pathos