#fel fire

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.