#aenlanin

A boy of barely fifteen with raven hair peered forward and pointed, his face lit with expectation and wonder. He could see the swirling mana wyrms tumbling endlessly in beautiful patterns, and his want was clear. With an exaggerated roll of his gaze, and a smile that lifted anyone’s spirit he gave a nod and they bounded off. It was barely a moment later that they were strolling through the Walk, a newly minted wyrmling already twirling across the boy’s arms and into the locks of his hair. The laughter that touched the air was the very breath of innocence, a child who would never understand the horrors that’d nearly taken him from the world. Though his father watched in understanding, his son was as carefree as the summer breeze.“I thought we agreed -no- new pets?”Like a cat with his paw in the jar he turned, a look twisting his face in an almost comical fashion as he peered upon the elegant face of his beloved. A woman cast in her middling years, her scarlet tresses were drawn to impossibly straight lengths with the faintest curl in a set of bangs that framed her brow perfectly. With enough shadow cast across her face to accentuate the natural beauty she held, he found himself lost in the sight of her. Almost enough to remedy his folly.“Basking in the vision of your wife will not save you from her, My Lord.”

A laughter echoed between them before a kiss rested against her brow, and their linked arms brought them to chase after their son. With a toddler tucked against her other shoulder already clinging to her neck and fast asleep, they were a vision to behold. They strolled for hours until the sun waned, and the shadows of the evening began to creep in among the city streets. Leaving her side for but a moment a detour was made to the local ink trader. He watched as she took both their sons in hand and strolled onward to a small bench, and rested. As he passed through the door, the soft ring of the bell above him didn’t sound. A look up found it’d been bent aside.“Overzealous Orc again, Lelorian?”When no answer came he peered about, and caught a strange odor. Stepping further in the door began to slowly creep shut as his steps brushed along the dusty wood. For once he found himself in an almost uncomfortable silence, like the air was charged with some veiled force. His fingers idly brushed together as though a film had taken hold, and at once he jumped. The poignant quiet meant the door slipping shut was more crash than idle clatter of joints and locks, and he swept back around to watch the motes of dust settle back onto the floor.“...Lelorian..?”There was an odd lump in his throat, and already he could feel the pace of his heart steadily quickening. Again no answer touched his ears, and he made his way towards the counter. There he found an odd thing, a single golden coin etched in an elegant carving. He found himself drawn to pick it up, already taking the token in hand before he really knew why. Sliced into the precious metal were lines and shapes that, as he turned it over to catch the fading light of the sun drew a very clear picture even as the spindled legs took form, and the body formed.“What an odd coin...a-”He barely felt the dagger slip into his back at first, until the hilt pressed in against the folds of cloth and skin and he could feel the tip strike bone.“Spider.”A jolt struck him as the coin fell and struck the counter, falling into a lazy spiral as he gripped the wood. The blade was turned, and the uneven curve of the steel left a ragged gaping wound that quickly stained a deep shade of red. Already he could feel the warmth rushing down across the space between his robes, and breath failed him. He choked on a word, struggling to keep his balance before the weight of the world crashed in and he collapsed to his knee. A last ounce of strength expended itself before he struck the floor, and rolled onto his back. “It really is a shame...you seem an upright gentleman, and I hate to leave your beautiful wife a widow, but...business you know?”

A weapon clad in flesh and blood, and leather the color of midnight set her feet to either side of his waist. The formfitting leather clung to her like a second skin, the dull creak a whisper as she snatched up the coin. Eyes that seemed both feral and intelligent peered down at him, silk and throaty tones on her voice while she peeled the mask away. He might have found her beautiful, hauntingly so even, were it not for the way his body was quickly losing the battle to live. All thought turned to the steadily growing pool of blood around him, a hand brushing through it before he gripped her leg.“Some fight in you yet...even more disappointing. Who knows...in another life maybe we could have been acquaintances...a pretty face like yours deserved better. Just close your eyes, think of your pretty wife’s face. You’ll want that to be the last thing you think of, not me.”Her words were like a dull echo, like someone trying to talk to you through the press of a pillow. His hand fell away and he watched the stain of his blood soaking into the leather across her leg. With the passing of every breath the weight drew heavier, and his eyes began to slip shut. The last thing he saw was the door to the shop opening and his wife peering in. The last thing he heard was her howling scream at the sight of her dead husband.Another life.

His footsteps were careful as he navigated the winding pathways, amid brush and shifting fog alike. The way ahead was hazy at best, the cobbles shrouded by a thin grey veil. While the sun overhead began to shine its light through a few breaks in the trees, the forest itself was cast in a layer of shadow. It was an eerie sort of feeling walking through towers of wood and leaf when you could barely see. It was a distinct thrill wondering what might be just a hundred feet in front of you. The unknown had always had a certain appeal to him, but his eyes and feet were hard set on the outer rim of the valley just ahead. Brushing aside a thick branch bent low from the storm he emerged into a sweeping plain of waving grass. Here the sounds of the forest gave way to the muted silence of serenity. The light crunch of grass and soil beneath thickly padded shoes greeted his ears, with barely a whisper of other sound. A soft wind drifted in from the north, the air cool and refreshing. Amber eyes lifted to find a few clouds beginning to form over head as he came to the center of that small valley. His path might have carried him onward to the relative safety of thick stone walls, and carved wooden domiciles of the druids but his thoughts and purpose rested here.  “This is an advantageous spot, My Lord.”

His movements had been impossibly quiet, but the dark and silken tones of the man’s voice shattered the silence. What calm had been found in the peaceful journey here was abandoned, and steel laced into the swirling fire kissed eyes as Aenlandrin peered over. Raven hair, a smooth complexion, and eyes as dead as they were alive peered back at him. Twin settings of sickly glowing jade centered around pits of coal gave Aenlanin an almost sinister aura, despite his mannered voice. The two shared an appraising look for a long moment as neither uttered another word. Somewhere in the distance a rumble of thunder echoed across the treetops, rolling in through the meadow with a shifting wind.

“With nothing to obstruct our magic...we will deal with them quickly enough, Your Grace.” Though the two had been in company for years, the requisite titles had become something of an afterthought, almost an amusing quip. The formalities and vagaries of societal etiquette were often discarded on the battlefield, yet they reveled in its irony. As the two came to stand together they could have easily been placed among the spires in the elven capital, their clothes stitched and embroidered with the color and style befitting their rank. Cast in simpler robes of fitted leather and hardened cloth, however, they esteemed to a more tactile game, now. A mirrored bow of a head found tresses of crimson and ebony alike brushing their cheeks before the two swirled about to rest back to back. “Shall we wager as to the final count?” Darkening clouds on the horizon became the focal point of the Scion’s study as they both rolled their sleeves a few inches higher. Nimble fingers calloused by their time spent crafting music began to stretch, and ready themselves. Like the towering sentinels of the ancient boughs their stiff motion eased beneath the press of the growing wind. They could almost hear the shrill cry as it buffeted the millions of leaves around the meadow, and sent sprawling waves across the grass. Cloth billowed as a harsher shift formed, and a single arc of lightning shot from the most distant cloud. Its light was a pale shade of green, its glimmer like the surface of the sun itself as it snaked through the air. Another joined its writhing path to form a single point in the distant sky above them.

“But of course. What shall be the winning?” The peaceful notes that had settled so prettily among the forest were erased, and in their place chaos erupted. Beasts shouted their alarm and a terrible chorus filled the gnarled branches as the wind howled. Above them a growing fog of hazy fel-stained ichor rolled endlessly within itself. Churning magic cast a pale light across them as the vessel emerged from its portal. Crackling thunder and arcing strikes of its energy blasted the forest. Fires erupted within the beautiful shades of green and yellow leaves just turning their color. Awash in the heat of the growing inferno, a handful of gateways forged by the Legion’s magic appeared from thin-air.  “I believe...a duet, yes. I think we ought to have ourselves a duet, you with your keys, me with my strings. It has been far too long since I had reason to take up the bow. The winner shall compose it, of course.”

Nightmarish shapes began to step through the veil of the nether, spurred onward by the ship dominating the skyline above them. Harsh words in demonic tongue began to blanket the meadow as fire and wind blasted the gentle grass to bits. As growing piles of ash began to form and the picturesque scene was destroyed, the two men could do little to hide their smiles. One a picture of confidence, an air of lordship and the coming fight. The other an almost sadistic glee at the destruction about to be wrought. Cut from a similar cloth but doused in different pools, they began their revelry.