#val'thalore

There are many scars that have scorned my flesh, each has a story and a reason to belong. Each serves as a reminder, some remind you of a failure, some remind you that you are still alive, some remind you that you did far worse to others. With each scar a lesson is learned, a lesson that will always be with you, cradling you like a supple mother whispering encouragement in a toddler's ear, reminding you always of your mistake, reminding you of a worst fate should you fail again.

In our life there is no room to fail twice, attempting to strike when you should have blocked, forgetting to check the ground for traps, emerging from the shadows too early... Each failure has one thing in common. It destroys our control of our fates. When you fall destiny is no longer in your hands, when you miss, your lineage could be erased.

Val’thalore felt the impending clench within his throat as tears swelled at the corners of his youthful eyes. A stream of blood beat the bitter liquid, as a gash on his forehead began oozing with the familiar warm crimson; leaving a trail down his pale flesh to drip off the dirt-hugged chin, falling to the ground at an alarming rate, forming a puddle. His hands lay in the grass at either side of his sore thighs, defeated thoroughly from the long day of training. Val’thalore was but a child, still not even carved in the toned Soldier that most would know today; yet still he faced the same atrocities.

“Meaningless, a meaningless wretch... That is what you are. How you were begot from my loins is a mystery not even our Magistrate will learn of.” Bal’thalore spat beside the broken boy, fist clenching tightly to his side as the only mercy within his soul orchestrated his actions; forcing him to stop the beating and take his brutal teachings to another elf, an elf worthy of the title Sin’dorei. He snorted, turning upon his heel and walking away; letting the boy waste the blood of Sunvein in defeat.

Val’thalore's gaze was hazed over, drifting in and out of reality to be coddled by the shell of his mind; from a young age he learned that his body may be broken but his mind would always hold true. Soon, the boy’s fist gathered the grass at his sides as he too made a fist in a brutal desire for acceptance. Val'thalore sat quietly for a time, as he does, staring down at the rugged and torn leathers that clenched around his body loosely, only allowing the release of tears to charge into the stream of blood. Now drifting in and out of reality not by his own accord but by nature’s own protective will; Val’thalore dug into his reserves, reaching forward to grip his knees and pull them towards his heaving, bruised chest; a guttural groan escaping his busted lips as his legs spasmed. Holding each knee strong; he created a ball like form and allowed the dazed head to lay against the mud-n-blood covered leather patch of his knees, not sparing the energy to weep now.

"Give me your knives."

The Blood Fathered extended his hand, palm up. He held it even with his chest, eyes focused in on the tight expression of the Rogue female as she glared at him, disbelief apparent in her gaze as he made the request.

"Exc--"

Val'thalore stopped her before she could continue; an infamous movement that placed his broad form nearly atop of his target, barrel chest nearly pressing against her leather-clad body as the fel-taint in his gaze flared violently, staring hard down at her shrinking form.

"If I do not have every knife in your possession, I will assure you that every sword that I can fathom with the arcane will be summoned inside of your body."

Alaerya nearly snarled, she almost wished that he would just impale her - She wasn't quite sure what was going on lately; just a building defiance, a generating stockpile of self-reliance... It was a vicious toxin that she had no cure for. She knew better than to question the Blood Father further, rather lowering her head to break her defiant stare and proceeding to release every hidden blade from her figure.