Mistwanderers

Newbie Joined: Jan 21, 2012 Posts: 17

The world was upside down. The morning in the eternal forests of Karafeng were actually thicker than normal. The nearby lake, Sylvirs eye, could not even in the mornings of the late fall produce such a thick mist. He was moving quietly along the trees, one step after the other. He could feel a chill along his bones and his flesh. It felt as if the mist was quietly creating a layer of thin ice on his body and his clothing. He heard her timid voice behind him and reached out for her hand. He felt a smaller more slender hand reach out for his and he grabbed it. The path was thin and it was silent. Not a single bird gave noise in the thick misted pathway. Even the scents of the forests seemed to dull out until the world slowly grew white. He felt nearly like the grasp around his companions hand would slip. Worried his hands hold firmed up. âMy leaf of the oak?â He wanted to call out loudly and yet it felt just like a whisper. His head felt dizzy and he lost his orientation. His movement quickened as his heart began to race first with worry and then with fear. By now they should have reached the shores of Sylvirs eye, yet there was merely more forestall groundâ¦ more mist. He could hear her voice in the mist, could feel her hand. It was a reassurance but he could not understand the words she spoke. Like a deer he grew the feeling they were hunted. Shadows in the mist began to move. Like hounds on the trail of their prey. Eyes were there in the mist, reddish following them. They were for sure not anymore in the wild lands of Karafeng. He quickened his run as his heart raced further, he tugged and towed on the hand he was clinging to. Rushing over the ground, he could not even tell anymore if they were running on leaves, rock or water even. The shadows with their red eyes followed them, mocked them. He could feel icy hands reach out for them, panic growing in his heart. He could hear the yelp behind him of his companion, both elves beginning to run for their lives not knowing where to go. By now they must have crossed the lake of Sylvirs eye and would reach Deeproots grove. But it was not there. The arms of the closing in bodies reaching out for them, he could feel the long dark fingers of ice reaching and leaving marks on his skin.
And then he could feel a strong gust of wind, blowing into his face. A strong rustle of leaves was rushing through the mist. Leaves, branches, acorns and larger cones was carried over with the wind. It nearly blew him and her from their feet together. Yet much more hit and hurt were the creatures, he could hear shrill screams and calls of anger. He pushed his legs forward and began to fight against the wind, dragging the body behind him along. It seemed to cost him all strength in his body to fight against the hailstorm of leaves and earth. Even if nothing seemed to directly hit him, every muscle ached to remain on the feet, while behind him obviously hell broke loose, the hisses and screams sounding unreal to his ear, stinging like a thousand needles in his head. But they grew more and more silent, distant and all the more enraged. The mist before them cleared bit by bit. He could once more make out shapes of trees but his heart raced fast enough that the grove could dance wildly around a fire to it. He did not stop running hearing beneath his feet once more dull sounds of branches cracking, leaves and moist earth. They stumbled forward he nearly tripped over a root as the sight grew better and better. And then the mist pulled back, like a curtain. He pushed himself with the last bit of strength past a line of trees. He could hear the blood rushing like the ocean in his ears as his legs would not carry him anymore. Dizzy he had to let go of the hand he had held in a cramp the whole time. With an exhausted sound he stumbled against a tree as the vision blurred. His mind was dizzy and he felt like something had sucked out all strength he had left. And with a tired sound he sl8umped down against the trees trunk. His eyes shifted around, feeling a warm body by his side. A layer of cold sweat of fear covered their both skin, as he looked forward onto the shimmering rooftops and the walls of a... human city? There was not supposed to be a single human within thousand leagues in Karafeng. He had not seen a human in two decades. He took in a deeper breath as he heard a last time the rustling of leaves and felt the cooling wind with the scent of forest and strong oak, before it quieted down. They were not anymore at home, but his mind was not strong enough to catch up yet fully. He was merely glad not to have become a meal for, he did not know what. And the fact his companion was resting by his side, with as nervous looking eyes as his but alive and besides a few scratches, unharmed.

Newbie Joined: Jan 21, 2012 Posts: 17

The grove was silent at that evening. The group which returned from Silverhedge was partly scratched, torn and exhausted. The day was once more a long one. After the encounters with the orcish Worg-riders by now there were undead and darker spirits a plague to the peaceful village. The elf in the greenish armor of leather was again expressionless. His eyes were most times seeking the smaller female shape between the group of men. His Leaf of the great Oak. The one, who found him and had taken from a calm, if monotone, life. It was still difficult to let emotions surface at times. And more than resting in each other´s embrace in their sleep he had not dared, she found such amusing. The day today was close, the creatures of the dead had a look and a weave that not only set fear into the bones of those who were capable to feel fear; their deep gaze turned things to stone. The thought to lose her after this long search was more than he could bear. By now his face had the same ever set in stone features. She partly hated that it so rarely showed any emotion, but Urúvion knew she could partly see past his eyes.
The young band of friends, brothers and sisters in path and arms said their good bye and each left for their home. Aradin vanished somewhere, Urúvion suspected he would grow roots somewhere, literally. Reithar´ulin sought probably a cottage of rangers for the rest. Where Olwe was, the elven male did not know. He felt like a pariah in this word, for actually moving along the shadows and being bound closer than many to them. Which was a strange thing, since the forests spared shades their whole existence and they were soothing, giving cover from unwanted eyes. There were too much human seeping somewhere into the worries and feelings of some Urúvion judged. Shades were not evil, they were. Only some creatures hiding in them were malicious
The pair reached a larger young ironwood tree. It was sturdy and just beginning to grow tall.
“When you are tall enough, will you house us?” Pilindiel had asked the question sometimes, when she was curled in the furs between the roots of the sturdy young tree. Urúvion did not know if the tree housed a spirit who would answer, but it made no difference. By now from the branches of the tree were hanging colored ribbons, Dream catchers and small bells were swaying in the wind clinging lightly with each time the air brushed over the leaves. Colorful stones gems and even coins dandled from the “arms” of this younger one. They had no special worth but they were twinkling beautifully in the sunlight, like small suns themselves. It might look strange to some, but this tree was not any tree, it was a special one, it was home in a foreign land. Between the thick and high roots there were bags settled, rolls, small pots and trinkets, bows, knives and crude tools of stone and wood. Nearby was a small pile of furs, forming a rough resting place. By now the smaller elven woman curled up between the roots and furred blankets, looking up to Urúvion. “Are you coming too?”
“In a moment.” The elven male nodded once and walked slowly around the tree while she would curl up for sleep. Urúvion walked calmly around the thick trunk of the large tree. Even in young years, this tree was stubborn. It tried to outgrow its brethren and sisters and tried to reach for the sky. On the opposite side of their home he had dug out a small hole. It was laid out with leather. It was partly smelling still of meat and fish. Small trinkets were resting there leaning against the roots. Unfinished shafts of arrows, small pieces of glass and seeds of different plants as well as mushrooms. Some even growing by now or, having become the meal of a slug or a small rodent. The elf did not mind it even as one slug was currently making a good meal of a boletus. The man slowly pulled off his boots and placed them nearby. He opened the strings which held his armor of hide in place only to rest it nearby, too. In the end he slipped out of all clothing folding the things to neat pile. Urúvion could feel the alive ground beneath his feet and felt the fresh night´s air on his skin and it made him freeze a moment, yet he could feel it. He inhaled once strongly before he fell slowly down onto his knees. He bent forward touching the ground with his forehead silently stopping to move in the pose. He directed his thoughts silently to the place he called home, to the entities which held their hands over him and her.
I thank you, Father Greatoak, he, who is called Mother Den´ere in these lands. I thank you for the good tidings and luck in our hunt. I thank you and yours for food and clothing. I thank you spirits who have given your lives so we can live a day longer.
With that actually the elf brought forth several caught fish and some cut fresh meat. He left it together with some unfinished arrows on the leather between the roots. And returned back to the pose, before he pressed his face into the soft ground. He could scent and nearly taste the leaves and the ground.
And I thank you for holding out your hand above us in the darkest hours. Take me if you must, but spare my Leaf of the oak. Let her soar in your wind long and free.
He inhaled deeply the scent a few more times before he got up. He did not bother to dress again, but picked the pile of clothing as it was. Once more he wandered around the tree and settled his pile near the one of his companion. He could see Pilindiels eyes already closed, her breath even. With a light graceful movement he slipped silently underneath the fur, letting his body rest up against her own to warm it. She shifted with the cold but curled into the larger body. She scented of moss and some flowers. The one lily, he had nestled into her hair she carried still. Its scent did not diminish even after days. And the flower did not wither, as if it would grow and find a place in the long thick brown hair of his beloved. She murmured something he could not understand half in her sleep. He just wrapped an arm around her body and rested up against her form. And soon after his own eyes closed the same.
And only a few minutes later a lynx appeared in the underbrush. The yellow eyes were watchful and carefully scanning the surroundings. Silently with a swishing tail the creature sneaked up onto the large tree. There it was again, fresh fish. It snatched up some fish, carrying happily the free meal away to devour it in a safe distance.

Newbie Joined: Jan 21, 2012 Posts: 17

((In forefront. This tale includes besdies my own and Icenfires character Aradin and Reithar´ulin. If one of the two are not happy with the following line sseek change or eradication of their part, pm me and it will happen ^_^. Otherwise I hope you all enjoy))

It was a new morning, a new dawn. The rays of light were gently seeking their way past the leaves of the rooftop made of the branches of tall trees. The green rose chafer shook itself and then crawled forward slowly along the petal. The flower scented sweet and it was hungry. A ray of light fell on the carapace as if to greet it and the beetle began to shine and illuminate like a gem. It found the nectar and began to drink, sitting calmly in the sunlight. Just after a few minutes the whole ground for the beetle began to shake, the flower moved and shook. Stirred and with a loud buzz the animal made its way to safety.

Pilindiel looked up as she heard the buzzing sound in the air. She could see the upset beetle buzzing two times around her head before it took off seeking itself another place and another meal. With an absent mind motion she was stroking a hand through her hair straightening it out taking care the lily was not harmed in the process. Around the small fire in the fireplace sat four shapes. A small fire was roasting the parts of quails. Urúvion had caught the day before. The small bits of meat he had dipped and coated in honey and a sweet scent was growing together with the thin line of smoke on the warming fire. It was a fresh morning and she had herself still wrapped into the fur she and her companion used for sleeping. He was sitting near her together with their new found friends Reithar´ulin and Aradin around the fire. All of them nibbled on their breakfast, picking the honeyed meat pieces from the spits. A bit of bread and some fruits resting on wooden carved plates and bowls completed the first meal of the day. She would have loved to find Olwe too, to settle by the fire, yet the elf actually probably was with his daughter. And he still felt like a Pariah in the holy land. They had shared their knowledge about the elves burden with the two others and Pilindiel hoped in secret that they would prove the Old elf in his fears wrong. By now actually they were peacefully eating and discussing in silent words the last observations they had. The orcs eventually arming themselves for another of their campaigns for one. The worg-riders included;
“I think we will need allies for the worg-riders.” Pilindiel's companion concluded while the other were quietly sating themselves with water and their meal. Around them the grove slowly woke up and the shapes of elves and animals both were strolling to begin their day.

“Agreed, but like which one? The humans in Silver Hedge are not many, and I do not trust the ones in Sensual. Ata might help but he has his own concerns with poachers and ore hunters.” Reithar´ulin sat cross-legged by the fire to drive the cold of the misty morning out of his bones. He tugged a piece of meat from the spit only to chew quietly on it.

“And I am not sure dwarves would help, they are dug deep into the mountains of Ostmoore and have their own troubles with Giants and Trolls.” Aradin added his own words as he had split an apple and took a bite from it.

“Not allies like that.” Urúvion shook his head and dropped his finished spit into the fire to give the wood to the flames. “I remember things from home. We are too slow to follow the worg-riders and while we stand tall they overwhelm us by size and numbers and with our bows we are easy to tackle close.”
“They come close enough and they know the word and meaning of claws” Aradin had to grin and his eyes changed their natural shape and color, growing yellow and feline. They blinked two times before returning to his natural shape once more.

“You cannot protect us all in a larger scaled battle and it might become one when Reithar´ulin is right with his concerns.” Pilindiel's mate and companion shook his head.

“You want to go into the grasslands we have seen for…?” Pilindiels eyes grew a moment as she followed the thoughts of her companion. She had to smile a moment with the thoughts, while he nodded.
“The grasslands? You mean southwest of here?” Aradin raised his head with a questioning look on his eyes. The grasslands were wide wild lands. Home of a many animals but none lived out there

Pilindiel mimicked the nod of her companion with a small smile. “You will see.” And with that they finished their meal actually indulging lighter hearted topics devouring the remains of the breakfast they head. And while Pilindiel was seeking her clothes shaping up and picking the things they needed for the travel her companion erased the fire. The two others gathered as well the bit of supplies they would need for the travel. It was no far even if the grasslands were wide. And while her companion, Reithar and Aradin headed slowly for the groves stone trail past the cliff, to leave Lia´Dridias, she wandered light footed around the tree. Having not yet picked her boots she dug her feet into the softer still lightly moist ground. She settled lightly on her knees. Normally it was better to remove the clothing and erase all barriers between her own self and soul and the nature around her but the others waited for her. She bent lightly forward and pressed her forehead into the ground, closing her eyes to inhale the scent and feel the ground beneath her hands and feet.

I thank you for another morning in sunlight and for each smile you let him reveal. This for your running wild spirits so they hear our need and share our passions. With that her body raised and she left actually a few chunks of stone between the roots of their home, the stubborn young Ironwood. In the sun veins of ore twinkled in the rock, something she had broken herself off the other day. She slipped into her boots and grabbed her bow and her small backpack to hurry for the others waiting by the large waterfall that came down cascading over the cave that lead from Lia´Dridias to Green edges outer forests.

It took them only a bit more than three hours then the four shapes reached the borders of the forests. Aradin was the first to step out from the tree line into the bright sunlight, looking over the far grasslands. The grass was high enough to let a hin hide in it and reached to the knees and sometimes to the thighs of all four of them. Pilindiel noticed by then her size as it reached to her own hips. A stronger wind was brushing over the steppes and the grass was bending easily. Like a sea of green and gold it was bending and swaying under the winds gentle touch. Aradin who in the march kept changing his form, between the large feline and the man he was. And sometimes Pilindiel was thankful for the man was talking about this and that but mostly, kept talking. While her companion seemed to be the opposite, never saying more than was needed. Yet all four were staring out to the endless sea of grass with the sun above it like a ball of molten gold. And out here they noticed the mid-days heat as there were no trees to hide them under their roof.

“Shadows are not a bad thing hm?” Urúvion mention as he stepped out into the bright sunlight and continued the travel out into this golden green sea. Reithar had to smile a moment and followed,as Pilindiel herself did. And aloud rustle together with a swishing tail which was about the only thing showing between the high grass let them know Aradin was strolling as a large jaguar between the holms, taking in the new scents and impressions with a cats different, sharper senses. Pilindiel was moving between them actually. Sometimes they were talking and sometimes they were walking silently by each other's side. They could hear Aradin rustling playfully in the high grass and it made them laugh, well all up to her own companion, which saddened her a small bit. Yet not enough to put a shadow onto the bright day. Aradin's spotted tail appeared like a lance out of the high levels steppes every time he had found something new to his senses. Around them from afar they saw the herds of animals travelling along the endless sea of green. Wild long horned cows were there, they could see wild horses tagging along. Smaller shapes gazelles were running and jumping between the much larger animals. Sometimes stopping and resting to enjoy the simple pleasures of finding a tasteful patch of flowers. Slowly travelling from one river to the next to find refreshment. They could see the young between the large moving shapes, protected by their parents and kept close to the moving mass.
“There.” Reithar pointed onto a rock which loomed out of the grasslands and on it was resting a large lion. Peacefully warming himself in the sun, watching them as they crossed what he consider his own land. It was the moment they could see tail of the smaller Jaguar vanishing under the grass line and soon after the man was actually catching up again to the group. He was actually not saying a word but Reithar´ulin's grin was saying all. They passed the lion in respectful distance under its watchful eyes. But the large “king” on his throne did not see them as a threat and they passed without trouble. Pilindiel looked after the proud animal with a small bit of awe, she had seen a lot of spires and trees. But the majesty of this creature simply demanded a little bit of respect as the calm eyes of the lion followed them.
They followed the great herds for a while and the at first smaller shapes quickly grew bigger. The sight actually scent and sound was added. They could hear the grunting and the movement of hundreds and hundreds of animals. And soon they we removing with them, around them. The four young travellers partly walking by the herds side and with the next moment in the middle of it. And as the herd actually seemed to slow down to find again nourishment in the tasteful green Pilindiel pointed to a rock. “A good place.”
Her companion nodded lightly actually and wandered slowly to the rock formation. “What for?” Reithar looked around at times as the longer they travelled with them the closer the animals had come and from time to time he had to take care not to be in the way of a long horned wild cow.
“To find allies…” It was one of the rare moments Urúvion's face was garmented with a small smile. Even if only short. As they reached the rock they rested a small while, taking the time to look around. They were by now in the sea of moving bodies. Smaller ones larger ones, young and old. Of more than one species around them. Reithar´ulin had to take a few minutes to take in the sheer amount of the herd. And as he turned around he had to blink as Urúvion was actually shedding off his last bit of clothing. And with a graceful motions he sat cross-legged bare onto the rock with his pan flute in his hand. The sun burning down onto the skin, which explained by then the dark weatherworn look of it.
“I told you that it is easier to become one with the world around you when you shed off all barriers, cousin.” Aradin actually smiled and half grinned with the look of his cousin. Yet as he turned back to the rock he grew silent as well as Pilindiel herself had followed the example and was settled the same way peacefully as well. The wind tugging on hair and skin and some goose bumps showing that despite the sun the body felt the cold. But they did not flinch and soon after Pilindiel could hear her companion begin a light melody on his flute. Silent compared to the animals and yet she had it clear in her eyes. The two others soon settled as well. And while Aradin had no trouble to bond with the weave of his great mother around him Reithar' settled nearby with his lute. At first he listened to the sounds the pan flute did, the melody that was carried away by the wind. It felt peaceful, between the moving bodies. Troubles, concerns… worries about past and future all became slowly distance. And even the threat of the taint just slipped that much more out of reach He could close his eyes let the guard down a while and rest. He could hear the sounds and the life around him. The many animals that lives so much simpler and yet in a special way, content. He added a note to Urúvion's melody here and there, not that he intended it to, but his fingers just slipped over the strings and followed their innermost desire in peace. And out of a single note became more. A second and third and then he just played along. It spread slowly like the warmth of the sun on his skin through his body bit by bit. Peace… eternal peace…
And behind his closed eyes to the melody pictures appeared. Green, trees, easily measuring with the ones in Lia´Dridias. Endless from horizon to horizon they were. Mountains rising between them. Their tops were covered in snow and ice. They twinkled like gems in the bright sunlight. There he could see with the tune of longing a large crystal blue lake. Round like an eye, unblinking staring into the sky, no tide disturbing the surface. And clear enough to be able to see the fish swimming under the surface. The melody tugged on his heart, it hurt, longed and was solace in one. A large tree large like a small mountain was pushing itself into the picture and with it came the warm feeling of… home. A small part of his mind realized shocked it were not his thoughts.. or memories even. Karafeng… home. His eye opened and he looked to the bare couple sitting on the stone. Pilindiel's lips moved, she was singing along their melody. He could not understand the words, but he could feel them. Like an unseen bond formed between them sitting together, sharing emotions.. thoughts.. memories. Urúvion must have noticed the same. His head raised and his green eyes opened staring back to Reithar and Aradin both, yet his gaze as ever calm before the eyes closed again. The melody changed a small bit and slowly the pictures vanished and changed. The trees burred and he could see… feel the grassland around him. The wild steppes outlaying for him. The sensations playful, pleading and longing behind them. The pace picked a small bit up and he, they, could feel and sense the beings in it, around them, moving past them, feeding, drinking. The tune was pleading at that, offering. The pace quickened and it felt like in a dream. A dream bond to reality. Or reality bond to a dream? It made no difference. And there was answer no doubt. Other voice stranger ones, simpler ones answering. Not forming words or even thoughts. But emotions, sensations and impressions. The wild grass, its scent, the sun. The wish to move, freedom and the sun.
And then the song ended, it was a bigger silence in Reithar´ulin's mind. For a while a small bit of void where there had been before familiar presences. All but.. one? Reithar's eyes opened slowly after what seemed an eternity. He shuddered once with the experience, unlike Aradin. Obviously his cousin had more experience with this sort of bonding to world and people and yet his expression was peaceful.
“Brothers now.” He could hear the calm voice of Urúvion and nodded lightly in return. And then something happened he did not expect. There was something nudging him in the back, enough that he nearly toppled forward. He blinked as he opened his eyes and looked back and there it was. He sat there and in his faces head he could see the large head and snout of it.. no.. him. Large he was, brown with some specks which held the colour of the golden grass of these grasslands. Large black eyes were returning his gaze. He could hear a loud snort and feel a few specks of moist on his chest. He raised slowly a hand as he could still feel the presence and the much simpler voice somewhere silent, while it placed on the furred head. The wild horse seemed to nod a few times swaying its head up and down. He turned around stirring fully out of the daze, even if it had been peaceful, looking around. Aradin was still smiling, if not grinning lightly while the two others stood too near a horse. Pilindiel was scratching a brown and white specked one behind its ear, while Urúvion had an arm curled around one brown as a trees bark.
“Don’t look at me, cousin. I like mother's ground beneath my feet, besides I can outrun you all the time” Aradin smiled still and peaceful.
And as the sun set a jaguar was strolling and running towards the forests in the far horizon. And behind him, followed three riders. But unlike thought there were no saddles, no reigns. They were silent a long time as Reithar was stroking slowly over the furred back. It was… unusual. At first even a bit strange and he felt the strain of it.. him, carrying the elf. But with time Reithar could feel the muscles moving beneath him like thick ropes. His hand on the fur could feel each movement and it did not take long as his body, on mere instinct and listening to this presence in the far back of his, not mind, but existence, would move in unison to the animals striding movements. It eased and comforted the one beneath him carrying him. He looked around, from the back of the horse the sea looked even further and he loomed out of it like a rock in the sea. An overwhelming sense of endlessness overcame him. Of eternity, that if the cities fell and if humans orcs and dwarves waged war, there was still peace in the far reaches of this world. And he learned anew what it was, which was worth fighting for. As he looked back in the sun which was hanging low over the grasslands he could see Urúvion and Pilindiel ride side by side. Their hands raised and their fingers twined. And he learned that it was much more than just a touch. It was a bond between minds, souls and existences. Melting to one only to part again renewed and refreshed only to seek each other out once more. The horses peacefully riding side by side. Above them the sun went slowly down cascading in all shades of orange red and purple, dipping the horizon in its eternal light. They had not eaten today besides the breakfast and yet he felt no hunger.
It had been a good day and they had found indeed, allies.

Newbie Joined: Jan 21, 2012 Posts: 17

Around the large forest that behold Lia´Dridias stretches a vast steppe. The golden sea, the eternal grassland, the land of the undying herds, lions kingdom; Whatever people called it in their language and culture it was sheer endless. And when someone did not know where to find water it could be a harsh land. Huge herds were wandering on the eternal sea of grass. Wild cows, antelopes, wild horse and others were sharing the places for food and water. Always accompanied and crossing the territories of those who would feed of their old and weak. The golden sea it was called in the months of summer when the sun would burn down hotly, turning the green grass yellow and gold. The air would blur by the heat and about every being possible would seek cool places if possible. So the elven shape who was sitting beneath a large sausage tree, too. The large gnarled tree was growing wide and tall. Sparing shadow for everything which was seeking its shade. Its roots would go deep to find water and drink, being an island in this sea of grass. Urúvion was calmly sitting beneath the tree leaning against the trunk. In his hands were several branches he found, cutting them with a knife silently into a usable form. Long and thin the bundles of branches were, shafts for arrows yet to make. For the most common ones he carved heads out of the bones from the animals he and his companion hunted, for their skin and their meat. Better ones of harder wood would receive a head made of metal, even if the elf could not yet remember fully again how such was made. The mist stole a lot of memories. Firefur, his friend and ally was for now nowhere to be seen. He had ridden with him out to this place deep in the grasslands and then split. Most probably the stallion was looking for his heard or something to drink and Urúvion did not mind. Firefur was not his, unlike humans treated everything in their near. The stallion was free to come and leave as he pleased.
A growl actually scared the male out of his thoughts and the mid days rest. A low sound it was feline and quiet. Almost too quiet to be heard by a normal ear. Yet it was there. Urúvion looked up from his doings, sheathing quietly the tools he had been working on the wood with, and his green gaze travelled over the grassland. The high grass was an ideal place for predators to sneak up on their prey and the growl came again, this time louder. The elf got quietly to his feet and dropped the wood he worked on.
It was a movement out of the corner of his eye that made him jump. The elf did not think and just lunged forward and rolled over the ground. Where his head and his throat was a moment before claws and fangs of a furred whirlwind ripped the air apart what should have been his skin. The elf rolled over the ground and jumped to his feet only to face a large feline. Not a lion but still an inhabitant of the grasslands. A large crag cat bared its fangs towards him with a lower growl. The elf froze in his step and his feet dug into the ground, read to once more try and evade a jump of the feline. His luck had been the cats were surprise hunters and normally tried to surprise their prey and so the feline needed too a moment of time to reconsider now its tactic. Urúvion could run now out into the grasslands, but that meant to show the cat his back, one last mistake to do in a quickly ending life. And where could he run to? The cat was a lot faster. Climb? So could the crag female before him, his weapons. Urúvions gaze darted to the large tree trunk where his blade and his bow were leaning. And he did not wish to fight anyway with such a child of the great oak unless he really needed to.
“Hungry?” The elves melodic voice cut the silence as he began to step back from the cat. The feline began to circle him and he was moving backwards to the trunk never taking his eyes from her. He could hear again a growl as he reached the trunk and reached behind him. “Yes, I am too, hungry the day is long…” He found what he looked for but it was no blade in fact. His hand reached into his provisions bag in there he had some last fish left. Cooked and then dried at that, provisions for his travel. “But I rather eat once not, than you eat me…” And with that he dropped the good portion of fish before him slowly as the cat eyed him with aware eyes. Urúvion reminded some lessons of the many his father had given him and places slowly onto the fish some herbs he had found not long before. His father had been a spell singer and a man of nature. Legends said he could make a dragon cry and could wander among a pack of hungry winter wolves unharmed. Urúvion was not that talented in his father´s spell weaving and singing but his father had given him the emphatic nature and the ever calm mind on Urúvions way. Even if his companion often saddened with the only rare raise of emotions, or shown emotions at that. He stepped silently back from the heap of food, to give the cat room who was still darting around him. And as he gave her room the elf settled slowly down, placing his hands on the ground. With the green cloak he nearly vanished too and blended into the grass around him. The large feline approached actually the larger heap of the fish with the catnip and let out a low growl. The elven man lowered silently his head and avoided the glance of the large feline, surrendering in silence to avoid an attack. And with a lower sound the cat began to feed. With several greedy bites she swallowed the fish down her throat before she was resting down a while. The body was partly mangy, the life in the grasslands were for a predator never easy. But in a good shape and the feline began to lick and nip on the herbs between her paws. She handed out low purring sounds as the herb did what it was supposed to do, a light minty scent arose from the area as the cats saliva dissolved and picked the essences out of the leaves. Some leaves snatched up and eaten too. And she seemed to give the elf no second glance as long as the strange two legged creature did not seem to be a threat. With a small burp the larger feline arose after the meal. It dug and clawed demonstratively a few times the ground beneath her paws before the animal turned around. And with the same quick hops and strolling striding movements it came it vanished again between the high grass of the golden sea.
Urúvions eyes followed the being for the short time it was visible and audible, rustling this time for quite a while in the grass before it was out of the range of hearing before his forehead dropped lightly onto the ground. “I thank you, father greatoak, he who is called mother De´nere in these lands. I thank you for the food and the clothes you give us. I shall never take more than I need from you and yours and in return I shall give what is mine to give. And I thank you for another day I may walk under you caring arms and in your shadow.”
And after those softer elvish words and with a deeper breath the male elf raised slowly back to his feet. He looked around and the grasslands and there was no sign of another hungry predator. Slowly he returned to the trunk of the sausage tree once more picking calmly the bundle of shafts for arrows and continued his mid days rest. Without a meal, but alive and without bloodshed and that made him happy.

And from that day on if someone would spot the elf in one of the huge trees of the grassland, climbing in the arms of it to pick branches here and there for his search for arrows, there would be beneath it, a bit away from the roots a heap of meat or fish, mixed with some catnip. Waiting for a hungry child of the grassland.

Newbie Joined: Jan 21, 2012 Posts: 17

Since this is read most often I guess i will place this here.

*climbs onto a soapbox*

Me and Pili are here for Rp and company. We do not mind company and others seeking us out to Rp we welcome it. Do not be afraid to do so, when we craft or move around to explore the world. Its a good palce with good people and we like to meet them all. Just maybe not all evil chars cool

*hops down from the soapbox*

Peace by your lightly anarchic elves#

And now back to their tale

Newbie Joined: Jan 21, 2012 Posts: 17

Lysahs wings

((Once more thanks for all the perticipants, Pilindiel, Kane and even Felis. If anyone is not happy with the appearance or way of display of his character in this tale, pm me.))
((Your anarchic elf))

Glasston was a peaceful town. Well guarded and defended behind heavy walls and high towers. The guards were ever watchful and took care no violent action was happening within the walls. Peacefully merchant ships were coming and going. And in the later morning the tavern, the so called “Lazy Dog Inn”, was peacefully quiet. There were not many guests by now and the only thing which might have been an eyecatcher were the two green clad shapes by the window. The hoods tugged over their head, smaller and more slender than a human would be. Almond shaped alien looking eyes with the strange twinkle peering out from the face hidden in the shade of the hood. Both shapes held a bottle with cider in their hands. Two backpacks with weaponry were placed by their seats. The taller male was sometimes looking out of the window while the smaller female was curled by his side in silence and comfort. The melodic voices were silent and sounded like birds to the barkeep, talking in a language he did not understand. But they had bought their drinks and were peaceful so there were no objection, even if elves were sometimes suspected for being wanton creatures without discipline or an ordered way of life at that.

The door opened for another guest and the barkeep looked up. A taller man entered the room. Outside his boy lead away a tall war-steed to the stables. The man wore a heavy knight´s armor. Made of steel and inlaid with gold and silver. And while polished small dents and marks showed that the armor was not just worn for decoration. A large warhammer was dandling from the man´s side and a shield was strapped to his back. Under one arm he held his helmet, his face of mid-age. He had short cut raven like hair. His breastplate was covered with a blue tabard and Lysahs symbol of faith was stitched with gold into it.
“A wandering knight of the gentle lady is always welcome, my lord.” The barkeep smiled as he bowed lightly his head as the tall man stepped up to the counter.
“Mead and your house be blessed and be spared from wounds and pestilence.“ The knight nodded in return leaving some coins on the counter picking up a bottle of mead for himself. He joined the two elven… friends, yes friends, he would deem even if conversations were pretty one sided on all sides. While he had the feeling the female, Pilindiel, was the chattier one and cheerful one she had no understanding of the common tongue. And his own learning of elvish did not reach yet over simple greetings and most simple words. Urúvion, the man, had more a sense of what people talked around him. Yet he was most times quiet, saying not more than he had to. Maybe he did because he understood more than most gave him credit for.
And like often they sat there and looked at each other, exchanged gestures and simple words. They had met though to wander around and explore the surroundings a small bit.
Yet what actually raised the attention of all, who had their morning in the tavern for their late breakfast, was the door which slammed open. A man in a simple colorful garb entered. The trio noticed the rougher darker skin which revealed that he was often on free air, even if he did not look like a rangery type. He had dark hair a three days beard and his garments looked poorer than the average. He actually hurled himself to the counter. He spoke in a rougher accent but in well understandable common. He asked for clean blankets and alcohol, strong one at that. The barkeep looked at the man suspiciously once, he was one of the travelling folk, gypsies. Those who were known to take what wasn’t nailed to the floor. The man looked desperate though and let some of his silvery coins fall on the counter, sparing himself to haggle with the bars owner, something normally would be almost tradition among the travelers. And reluctantly the barkeep nodded and let his wife gather some bedding blankets and placed some strong clear spirits made from fruits on the counter.
“Is there a problem?” The deeper voice of the knight who turned half around in his heat was loud and clear. The gypsy turned around and froze actually. He had not seen the three sitting by the window behind the doors entrance. His gaze travelled a moment stunned over the golden armor with silver inlays and the blue shining tabard which showed the insignia of the golden lady. He recognized the tabard and the symbols at once with widened eyes. Normally travelling folk and knights avoided each other, it normally only ended in trouble. But this time the man half stumbled to Kane whose head reered back in surprise. The male fell to his knees picking Kanes hand almost pleasingly. “Oh great sire, the Elshara be praised for you visiting this place. Please be merciful with simple people women and children.” And while his words were definitely meant to flatter the knight and were overdone. The feeling sin his eyes were true.
“Slow down a moment and tell me what is it?” Kanes eyebrows furrowed and even the two elves in the back felt the tension. He could hear the males melodic voice speaking in hushed words to Pilindiel. She nodded lightly to it and both began to shoulder their belongings and cork their bottles closed.
“Please come… sire, they will die otherwise.” The man sounded fearful and in worry. Kane still did not know exactly what was it that happened yet the words alone were enough to let the templar raise.
“Lead us then.” Kane stated and wanted to turn actually to motion the two elven friends to follow. His head reared once more back as they were standing packed already behind him. He shook a moment his head with a smile and turned. The gypsy had already grabbed the bottles with the alcohol together with the blankets and rushed out of the tavern. Kane, Pilindiel and Urúvion had a hard time following him through the alleys and the green plazas of Glasston. The man was quick they had to give him that and it was an exhausting sprint in a full plated armor. In the end they saw him running through the southern gate, past the wall and the gates there. There were more guards by gate then and they, too, gave the gypsy some mistrusting looks as he left the town. But with Kane passing they did not say a word.
On the large green valley on the Cliffside of the southern point was a small village made of tents and carriages. No doubt it was the reason for the guards being alerted. A caravan of gypsies had arrived and had made camp by the side of Glasston. Yet as they came closer the sounds they heard were normally not the cheerful sounds normally expected from such a place. Instead to Kanes and the elves ears sounded lamentation, wailing and louder words. As they arrived Pilindiel could see at once the damage. Small bolts and spears were partly still stuck in the wood of the travelling carriages. The ox which had towed the carriages were wounded one of them to the point they had to put it down. Some of the wood was scorched from the impact of fire. She could see partly chaos in the camp, they must have arrived in the dawn and wherever they had made camp for the night they had left it in a hurry. She could see some rushing around to help and make camp. Just to work and have their hands left with something to do. She could see women and children sitting by the carriages still crying and wailing. It made her hand reach for Urúvions as her eyes welled up silently. The storm of emotions were too much to bear alone. She could feel the firmer hand curling around hers as the male elf towed her along with his face set in stones. Sometimes she wondered if he was even affected as she was by the hailing in emotions. But the grim and partly sad look in his eyes taught her better. He did feel, his mind just held an iron grip around the emotions. They followed the strange human and Kane through the camp only to reach a tent. From there they could hear, too, the crying of people, yet it was mixed with words in a strange rough tongue even Kane did not seem to understand. Together with the moans of wounded and dying.
There they were, in a tent on bedrolls several people were laying. Partly still in their armor, partly already wrapped out of. People tried to stop the bleeding and helped as well as possible. Kane counted, they were too many for his own abilities to heal. The scent of blood was heavy in the tent and people had gathered around the wounded and dying. “Damn…” Kane frowned with the count of the wounded and then turned around. „Urúvion“ The elf looked up to the knight as he heard his own name mentioned. “Potions go to the temple of Emnold and get me potions, for healing and to increase the endurance.” Kanes expression darkened a bit as he noticed that the elf was more than willing to help but once more he did not catch the knights words. Kane gritted his teeth with a desperate hiss before he grabbed a pouch with his gold and slapped it into the elfs hand. He drew some potions from his belt and pointed to them, before making a drinking gesture. “Potions…” Once more he pointed to the temple of Emnold looming out from behind the citywalls. “I need potions.” The words were urgent. For a moment Kanes gaze would grow even more desperate, yet then in the elfs eyes mirrored something like understanding. He grabbed the pouch and turned and with quick steps he headed back to the city. Kane hoped he had understood. The knight turned back and looked over the wounded, they had been mostly stabbed. The wounds were small in diameter but ran deep. Small thrusting spears and bolts, he could see in a bowl nearby the gory bolts which had been pulled out of the bodies. He settled with a deeper breath near the first victim and looked over the man. He was in his mid thirties. His forehead was covered in sweat and his skin was cold and pale. The templar placed silently his hand onto the bolts wound and closed his eyes. My golden lady, she, whose breath brings life to the diseased and wounded. She whose touch drives away the most dire injuries. Feel the injury under my palm. Let him feel your touch under my hand. He prayed silently and a smooth golden shimmer was glowing silently from under his palm. The man coughed and promptly groaned in pain as the eyes of those around grew wide. Kane opened his eyes and he lifted slowly his hand... the wound… was gone. For a while he smiled pleased, yet the gaze darkened once more. Something was amiss, while the wound was closed the man still fevered and grew weaker by the time and just slowly was slipping away. “Damnit…”
Pilindiel was standing behind the knight. She could see his doings and hear his words. She did not understand them but she knew their meaning. As her companion had run off to the city, she was even more timid in the moving mass. She jumped and backed away when men pushed their way through the crowd. They were cleaning the wounds with the clean clear spirits and trying to bandage them. And she could feel the short wave of relief in the room as the knight closed one of the wounds just with his hand. Yet the wave vanished as it came as Kane obviously did not see the result he expected. She looked around herself. Why would they not heal? She could hear an oath by the knight and again the sobs of the people around him. She stepped away from the tent, dizzy partly with the emotions coming from it, before she stopped at the side of a carriage just to be out of the way of the moving people. Her gaze was raising and there it was. She reached carefully out and then pulled with a strong move the small bolt from the carriage. It was a small but none the less very effective little thing. The weapon it had been fired from must have been very small. Either a wrist tool of a shadowstalker. Or something made for smaller races than elf or men. Or dwarf for that matter, since the beardmumblers as Pilindiel called them had the knack to build things oversized. She inspected carefully the bolt from its feathers to its tip. The tip? The head of the elven woman rocked back with the sharp scent it spread. More carefully she inhaled the scent once more and blinked lightly. The last time she had scented this strong it had been with the large spiders the goblins used to ride on. Poison;
“Why the…” Kane narrows his eyes and looked over the body. The wounds were closed and yet the man was fading away under his hands. “Kane” The voice was faint. There was nothing more frustrating and infuriating than to loose someone directly under his hands. “Kane” The melodic voice was a bit louder again the knight still focused on the patient.
“Kane” The knight blinked and looked up as he felt a touch like a feather on his shoulder. Pilindiel was standing above him. She was barely bigger standing as he was sitting, he nearly deemed her as a teenager or fully adult. Yet the ageless faces of the elves were always deceiving. Yet her eyes told normally of youth and cheerful innocence. Yet by now they were dark and worried. “Kane…” His name was once more called and he shook himself free out of the hypnotic pool of those alien looking almond shaped large eyes. She held to him a bolt, no unlike the ones in the waterbowl and made a motion to scent. He picked the bolt by the tip and took a deep breath. He wrinkled his nose with the sharp scant there. Pilindiel nodded lightly with the same worried look as Kane growled lightly. “Poison… damn” That explained actually why the man would not heal. His own ability could mend flesh skin and bones, but the treachery of poison, for that a priest was needed, not a templar. Once more he wished Eliandra was close.
“Kane” This time the sound of his name was lower and the taller elven male stepped back into the tent. In his hand was a large bag, which was filled with softer skins and in the pockets were dozens of potions. “The Elshara praise our non speech.” Kanes gaze brightened and despite the situation he had to laugh a moment. Urúvion knew that he had to fetch potions but he had not understood all of them. And now Kane could see several of all, the temple of Emnold possessed. Pilindiel slipped immediately closer to the elven male who did not wholly understand Kanes amusement, yet she calmed with Urúvions own stoic being. And there was what the priest was looking for. Vials with the glyph, which marked an antidote. He picked the vial and opened it, the man was nearly too weak to drink it, Kane had a bystander raise his head. He let the man swallow the potion and with a light rub and massage along the neck he triggered the reflex to swallow. It would need time, yet the man would live. Kane smiled and looked over the other wounded. It would be a long morning, but it would be one under Lysahs wings. It would be a good morning, now none had to die…

((more to come))