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#Post#: 411280--------------------------------------------------
Re: Andreth's Journey: A Guardian's Tale
DIR By: Demonreach
Date: September 27, 2020, 4:47 pm
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The Dwarven King was a foot shorter than Aegnor, his face and
mane of hair a dull, rusty red with streaks of gray throughout.
Hourdith was approaching his fourth century, equivalent of
Aegnor's own middle-aged self. Both had seen hard times, though
the dwarf king had witnessed the death of his race, had the
knowledge of being the last. The half-elf did not envy that.
Still, the dwarf was built like a small mountain; broad
shoulders with a barrel for a chest. All his armor had to be
special made, clothes tailored to his girth. Aegnor had
witnessed great feats of strength from the dwarf that would have
cowed most others. Age had not diminished the dwarfs stature,
nor the presence that he commanded.
'Ah! My scouts reported that there was a stirring in the South.
Quite a nest y'kicked,' the dwarf voice was reprimanding; dark,
steel gray eyes looked up from a piece of paper, likely the
report in question. 'They had a coven of Eyeless, y'know. Their
hellhounds could be heard for miles across the treelines.'
The dwarf had a voice that could shake mountains, a booming
affair that could not be contained by mere walls, but these
words he spoke in a quiet, harsh manner that bespoke of a
festering anger. An anger Aegnor was not so sure he could
appease, and Hourdrith knew it.
'Aye, I know. It was not my intention to set the ants to fire,
but it had to be done.' Aegnor set his own jaw, his words quick
and to the point. 'This girl, they called her their Oracle. He
talked to me. Said the exact words, as he slew your kin.'
For a second, Aegnor thought he had broken through the storm of
fury that raged so tightly controlled in the dwarf's eyes, but
it was over as the report crinkled in his hands. 'So you would
risk another Blight? And who is to say that was who you saw?
You've had nightmares for years about Him.'
Aegnor felt some anger himself over the comment, as he still
did. Taking his silence for capitulation, Hourdrith continued.
'Look at yourself, Aegnor, my boy. You risk your life for this
poor girl who knows not the kindness you are showing her. Nay, I
would say you are as bad as them, keeping her alive for so long.
Look at her eyes, man. She holds little in the way humanity, if
any, and if she is what you say, then doing so would only aide
us.' The anger had faded from the dwarf's words, though they
were still spoken quietly; a low rumble that Aegnor felt in his
chest.
'I cannot do that, Hourdrith. Do you not think I have pondered
that course of action? Why else would they fight so hard to have
her back? To risk the ire of you and your men? There is much
more at play here, and I need you to trust me. Have we grown so
far apart that trust is no longer there?'
Hourdrith closed his eyes, shaking his head. 'Come, boy. There
is no need for that. You and your... guest are allowed to stay,
of course. I assume you remember the way to your rooms? I will
need to confer with my Fortress Lords before I proceed much
further however. What you bring to light has implications that
need to be explored fully. You may leave.'
At the hesitation in Aegnor's stance, Hourdrith asked, 'Unless
there was something else?'
Shaking his head, the half-elf and his charge left the office of
Hourdrith; the former in a silent contemplation while the
latter, wide-eyed, struggled with taking in all of her environs.
Soon, she would learn to keep her eyes on the floor as she
walked.
Not all so different than when she was among the Shreyl'Kar, or
the Endarkened.
Aegnor mostly left her alone, pulling her in a direction when
needed as he spent several minutes getting to his own living
quarters, a comfort he will remember in the weeks to come.
As they entered the large room, a living area that boasted a
fireplace with a few chairs and a sofa, he sat her down in the
floor at the hearth. It was unlit, as it didn't get too cold
during this time of year. True winter would be off for several
months yet. He wasn't sure what to do with the girl, as he was
positive she would remain where he said to. Still, there was
always the possibility of her slitting his throat in the middle
of the night.
No good deed...
There were two other rooms connected to the living area, a
bedroom and a sort of private office that Aegnor had turned into
a lab. These had been his rooms from his time here, under the
banner of D'Efro. Aegnor walked the living area, whispering
words of magic to ward the doors and windows, to ward the walls.
Taking a minute to himself, he drew on his will as he prepared a
spell. Soon a rope appeared, twisted around the girls wrists to
become fastened against the rock itself.
With that done, he spoke, 'Do not move.'
Aegnor felt the exhaustion in his bones as he laid on the sofa.
He had not been wanting to fight with the only sort of father
figure he had known, and definitely had not wanted to kick a
nest of ants. Still, he wondered what role the girl would play
in all of this.
These thoughts, amongst many others of similar veins, played
through his head as sleep finally overcame him.
#Post#: 411495--------------------------------------------------
Re: Andreth's Journey: A Guardian's Tale
DIR By: Demonreach
Date: October 6, 2020, 8:35 pm
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There are six seats of the D'Efro Council of Lords, and all were
filled save three. There was the High Lord's seat, more of a
throne, really. It was stonemade, high-backed with a cushion
upon its seat. Aegnor knew it was for the comfort of the High
Lord as these meetings could take days, and this one had been no
different. Aegnor had slept for two days and as the old dwarf
had called for a Closed Hand meeting as soon as Aegnor's head
had hit the pillow, the Lord's of D'Efro had deliberated his and
his charges lives.
The seat had a dozen steps and at their feet were five other
chairs that were equidistant apart. The chairs of the Lesser
Lord's were wooden constructs, looking more comfortable than the
High Lords own, and done in the colors of their respective
House's. Each chair, wood and stone alike, had carvings of past
wars against the Endarkened; grotesque images that left the
beholder nauseated. Aegnor, of course, knew the trick behind it
and wasn't affected, or so he'd tell himself as he stared at
those images.
It was just the seven of them along with small contingents of
retainers, elsewhere at the Kyw'nithe, a keep recently
discovered in the last twenty years. It's name was Finger's
Hold, roughly translated. It was a castle a few hours ride by
horseback from the High Lords fortress.
The First Lesser Lord was a druid human, Gerahn Longstride.
Gerahn had been vital to the efforts twenty years ago, they all
had, but Gerahn had sacrificed almost as much as Aegnor had. The
First Lesser Lord was an athletic man, tall and
broad-shouldered, whose eyes looked like ghosts of themselves,
sightless and unnervingly accurate at tracking Aegnor as the
half-elf proceeded to take his postion before the congregation,
to plead his case and that of the girls' beside him.
The First Lord had runes branded across his face, down his eyes,
a pact that gave him foresight and prophesy in exchange for his
own. It had been a hard choice, then, but it was one Gerahn had
seemed to accept as time passed. He wielded twin long knives,
their aura something dormant, sleeping.
The second seat seat to the right of Gerahn's, was one of the
three empty seats. It was a seat meant for Aegnor, long ago.
The Third Lesser Lord, seat to the left of Gerahn's was an elf
man, Anies Blackthorne, who Aegnor had grown up with; they had
been friends up until Aegnor's father had made a pact with the
Endarkened, releasing a being that was millennia old to exact
its revenge. Things like that, apparently, ended relationships.
It did, however, start mass killings of elves.
It had been a hard twenty years, for all races.
Anies was like most elves, tall and lean; beautiful in all the
ways that tugged the poets heart. Aegnor couldn't see it. What
he could see was eyes the color of honey, light and gold with
hate, a look reserved for Aegnor only, the half-breed had
learned.
Aegnor was used to being hated by others of his elfin blood.
After all, who had ever heard of a half-elf king? It simply
wasn't done. It was an abomination to the rules of the land.
And perhaps it had been, considering everything that had
happened. That will happen.
Anies was armoured and armed, unlike last time. A calvary saber
made of starsteel, forged by a master blacksmith. It was a cold
weapon to look at it with all of its simplicity, the lack of
design and embellishment giving it an aura of menace. It was a
weapon made to kill. It suited Anies' unbendable will and
single-mindedness. Aegnor recalled the words spoken by the two
men, outside Aegnor's room when the half-elf had awoke to
thundering knocks.
'I see you have yet to replace me. Could that be what this is
about? You want me back?'
'Silence! You have one last chance to convince us to spare you,
before I will be allowed to end your miserable life, are you
sure you want to ruin it so quickly for the two of you?' Anies'
tone was cold, anger creeping at the edges of his voice. 'We
have better things to do here than argue about this, not when
our brothers are busy fighting the nest you kicked.'
Aegnor felt his body go still, 'You mean....?'
Before he could speak again, the Druid spoke. 'Yes, the Eye's of
Kru'ul are fighting on your behalf. The twins are quite capable,
Tysu'a, have no fear. You should be concerned with yourself and
this child.'
The Druid looked at the girl, wincing as he seemed to struggle
with looking away; gasping for breath, the First Lord struggled
for several seconds to regain his composure.
During that time, Anies rose to his feet, shouting, 'What have
you done, you darkspawned heathen?!' His hands gripped the sword
at his waist, a tool of unyielding power in its master's grip.
He had barely rose from his chair before a large voice boomed
out, 'Enough!'
High Lord Hourdrith Stonebeard had spoken and it had been done,
though the Druid was in the beginnings of coming to his senses.
'If it had been an attack, I would have been targeted as well.
Put aside your hate for a minute, Lord Blackthorne, and let us
put this behind us so we may help our brethren.' The dwarf's
voice could hardly be contained in the halls of Kyw'nithe.
'Aegnor Fellfire, we have deliberated your fate and, while we
are two short, there has been a general consensus made...'
His voice trailed off as the doors opened once more. Everyone in
the room tensed save perhaps Stonebeard himself.
Two men strode into the room, armoured boots and metal plates
clacking and smacking against each other as they walked in,
standing beside Aegnor and the girl. They bowed at the waist
towards Hourdrith. The twins of Kru'ul, Matthias and Thomas
Whitestone, had arrived.
They were also human, standing at average heights with blond
hair that was kept closely cut against their heads. Their eyes
were deep oceans of blue, vast and endless, and just as
merciless as the waves that sunk whole ships. They had been born
under the star of Kru'ul, chosen by him from the marks on their
foreheads: a simple enough diamond pattern that was deep green
in color.
Kru'ul was an elder god from a time before the Endarkened. He
was still worshipped by small communities of people in isolated
areas.
Aside from their eyes and hair, that was were the similarities
ended. Matthias was a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man with
a platinum colored beard that reached to his neck and thick
enough to give the old dwarf a run for his money. He had laugh
lines around his eyes and the slight tug at the corner of his
lips suggested he smiled easily. He carried an assortment of
wands about his waist in a utility belt, a few pouches had been
sewed on to hold various bottles of liquids to the left hip
while the right was adorned by a longsword, just as plain as
Anies' own. The menace wasn't there, but something alien
radiated from the longsword.
But when that smile came from those eyes...
Aegnor suppressed a shudder lest he be seen weak, though he
couldn't help but wish they hadn't shown up.
Thomas was leaner, and was known to have a mean streak. Looking
into their eyes, Aegnor could see it; could see the endless
nightmares that could be inflicted by the twins. Such was their
god's nature, however. Thomas had a bow packed away, slung
across his back, a quiver at his right hip. A hand-and-a-half
sword strapped along his spine, almost hidden by the bow. It was
also plainly wrought, their alien aura matching the longswords
own.
'We have finished our task the Traitor had set against us, High
Lord.' They spoke in unison, their voices angelic and pure;
matter of fact and uncompromising. 'We have come in answer to
your call of a Closed Hand meeting. We apologize for being
late.'
Again, they bowed, awaiting for judgement.
The High Lord pondered them, fingers stroking his beard. 'In
light of your actions in stopping this nest our accused
disturbed, you will be forgiven for your tardiness. Do not allow
it to happen again.'
The dwarf gestured almost dismissively, the twins taking their
seats across from each other and stared at Aegnor.
'Now, without further interruptions,' the smooth voice of the
Druid spoke up finally, addressing the whole room as he looked
at Aegnor. 'You have brought us an interesting dilemma. It is
known that dark-touched are born from Endarkened mating with
humans, or if a dark-touched had a Guardian in their genealogy,
such as yourself, Sir Fellfire.'
Compassion touched the druids features, an almost pitying
expression that Aegnor found himself hating.
'That is the only reason you are allowed to stand before us, as
a former Lord and Prince, but also as a Guardian, perhaps one of
the last.' The Druid finished, sitting. 'Our decision is that
you will be forgiven, on the price of the girls life. Should you
refuse, you will made to watch and then be slain yourself.'
Aegnor took a second to gather his thoughts before speaking.
'What wrong have I done by rescuing this girl? A slave who was
to be sacrificed to become an Oracle? Do we even know what an
Oracle is? The last time the Traitor started, my father used my
mother as a vessel for Him, offered Him my soul and body for
dominion over this world.' He looked past the Druid, staring at
the dwarf. 'Should I have allowed her to suffer the same fate?
Or whatever fate lays in store for her? I would go back and take
all their slaves away if I could.
'What have I done wrong by killing those vile creatures who
threaten our lives every day they continue to exist? Our
infighting has caused us to lose focus of the greater threat,
them. You ask me to take this girls life so callously,
threatening me with my own as way of compliance. You forget who
I am, Druid.'
Wafts of smoke hissed from the scabbard at his hip, the unicorn
sword responding to Aegnor's anger. The smell of brimstone
slowly filled the air as the half-elf continued.
'I will not kill her, for I believe that to be their plan. His
plan. She is marked for Him. When have we seen a female
dark-touched? All the males are sent North, even the Guardian's
couldn't get the infusion to work with the women volunteers. Why
is she different?'
One of the twins spoke up, 'Yes, Sir Fellfire. That's exactly
our point. Why is she different? She would be able to reproduce
dark-touched with Him, much like your mother, only she would be
able to able the... taint He brings in.'
'You would do well to not bring my mother to this discussion,
Lord Thomas.'
'Be that as it may,' Lord Matthias allowed his own voice to be
heard. 'You would do well to remember your position, Aegnor. We
are all friends here, but you have brought unspoken evil to our
doorstep.'
'Enough of this talk. He has refused. Allow me to carry out the
task, High Lord.' Anies rose from his seat to face Lord
Hourdrith, bowing with a fist to his heart, hand on his hilt.
The dwarf actually seemed to consider the idea before making
another gesture, a sign to Anies to wait. 'I am curious about
Aegnor's defense in this. You know all know as well as I that he
does little for no reason, let alone risk his life for it. If
she is thay important in his mind, allow him to speak his
thoughts.'
'What?! You would hear this traitor out? Allow him to convince
you his innocence? His tongue is forked, my Lord.' Anies was
outraged, his anger breaking the rules of conduct. 'Have you
allowed your mind to be clou-'
'Before you allow your own tongue to talk itself out of a head,
still your tongue, Blackthorne.' Gerahn spoke, his eery gaze
staring the young Lord down. 'The High Lord has spoken and so it
shall be done. Aegnor, if you would, answer the Fourth Lord's
question.'
'I... have given considerable thought to this, myself, my
Lords.' He hated thinking of his mother that way, but he had
never known her, either. It had felt almost silly to defend
someone he hadn't known in life. 'My father had prepared my
mother, prepared himself. As my father was an acolyte of the
Traitor, he had some resistance to that taint, but my mother did
not.
'This girl has a natural immunity to it as all chosen by Him do.
Most dark-touched are some throwback to a generation where they
were needed most. We have all but bred them out of our
bloodlines. I would have to visit the Scrolls of Ascador and
further research besides to confirm a lot of what I will be
speaking of, my theory, but as Lord Thomas has said, she would
be a concubine to the Traitor. She was made for that reason
alone.
'I do not think she is tainted by Him, however, but by more of a
Her. That is why she is different. She has to live, for all of
us,' Aegnor's voice echoed gently in the silence.
The Druid was the first to speak, as was his right, 'We do not
have what you require here, but I have read them, during my time
at the North.
'During the zenith of His power, His Empire, the Traitor had a
Queen, one who stood next to him with equal power. It also
talked of an Oracle, a female servant who whispered of the past,
present, and future. She was largely why He was so successful.
He rewarded her by executing her for heresy when she foretold of
His Fall.
'I suppose it could be possible that He could bring this Oracle
back, but why? Surely she would want him dead.' The Druid,
long-winded as ever, concluded.
Aegnor stared at Gerahn for a long second, allowing a few more
seconds to process the information before speaking again.
'He is too arrogant, too confident, to believe she would turn
against Him, and we would have no hope of controlling such
power. We can teach her to be one of us, make her a Guardian.
Let us turn their weapon against them, one more time. We know I
played a role in the blight twenty years ago, but let's not
allow this girl to be used like I was. Let us give her the tools
to fight back, to give her a chance to fight back, like I was
given.'
'And who do you propose is enough to train her? Our High Lord?
Or would ask one of the twins? I cannot. What I did for you, was
because you had been chosen by the unicorn, Klak'nik.'
A hand touched the spiralled hilt of his sword, a gesture made
on the subconscious to assert comfort. He felt pain in his heart
at the mention of his friend, however; a pain that cut through
the simmering anger, that allowed him to put his reasoning mind
forward.
'I would, of course, First Lord, should that be allowed.' Aegnor
spoke with more confidence, his voice growing bolder. 'You are
right in that I have brought this problem before you without
much of a plan, but allow me to travel North, to teach this
young girl the history of my, our, people.'
To everyone's surprise, High Lord Hourdrith spoke, 'Let this be
known, the words I speak are as a dwarf to a half-breed, to
brothers in arms. I have seen you all grow together, and apart.
It is clear we have a larger problem at hand, but to one we have
no answer; or, have reached a stalemate in our answers. I, for
one, am not opposed to this.'
He raised a hand to forestall any outbursts, a slight smile
pulled his lips upward, perhaps for the first time in two
decades, before it turned serious once more. 'Lords, pass your
judgement. I recede the order of their death, though it may
still be reached as an answer.'
The First Lord spoke, 'Allow the half-breed to continue his life
in the North, and she will not be our problem, should this prove
disastrous.'
The Third Lord, Anies, spoke, 'I say we proceed with the order
of execution. It is the safest and surest way to see to swift
end of the Traitor's plan.' His words seethed through clenched
teeth.
The Fifth Lord spoke, 'He may live, but we send word of their
circumstance to our Northern brothers. They need to be armed
with that knowledge, as well as decide for themselves to take
them in, though if what the Druid says, they will have people
who may be able to help.'
The Fourth Lord, 'Yes, I am in agreement with my brother, Lord
Matthias. They will be better able to judge this... problem.'
The High Lord spoke once more, his voice final, 'Aegnor
Fellfire, you will be escorted to the North to ensure your safe
arrival. I will not force anyone to do this, so I will ask for
volunteers amongst the men, as well as one of you to lead this
mission. The twins are exempt from this, their hardwork deserves
reward. Anies, Druid, I care not. Decide before I do.'
'I have no issue, my Lord.' The Druid inclined his head as he
addressed the elder dwarf. 'Anies is needed here, if you are to
give the Whitestone brothers leave. We both know I am no good in
a fight.'
'So it is decided. First Lord, you may choose your volunteers.
Keep it small, you'll need speed to get there before Dead
Winter. You leave an hour before first light.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning went smoothly as far as these things go. Lord
Gerahn had decided upon a dozen men to escort Aegnor and the
girl. Most were elves of no particular allegiance, the rest were
elven druid apprentices. Gerahn Longstride had, perhaps, saved
the Druid way of life single-handedly and was well-respected by
elves and men alike.
The elven warriors carried shields on their backs over the black
cloaks. The shields were black as well, golden open hand
displayed against the black metal; under that, a golden hand
would also be woven onto the cloaks.
The druid apprentices wore black robes over their clothing, the
same open hand shown on the front along the neck of the robes;
the golden thread made a collar around the neck, coming to form
cupped hands at the upper back of the robes; a small eye rested
in those eyes, the design woven separately from the rest.
Each one in their retinue carried a ring on their first finger,
including the First Lord, though he was allowed more
extravagance. Being the humble Druid that he was, the First Lord
disliked even wearing that.
Lord Gerahn was shirtless, though decent enough to have decided
to wear a vest made of deer-leather, dyed a dark brown; his
breeches were made of the same leather, skin tight. Druidic
tattoos shown against the bronzed flesh of the man; in that
flesh, muscle had been sculpted from it. Truly, a man in his
prime. Long, dreaded locks hung loosely behind Gerahn's back,
doing nothing to hide those sightless eyes. The brand's running
down both cheeks looked angry. The First Lord carried his staff,
a stave of a gnarled root from an ancient tree long seen from
this world. His long knives were at their usual place astride
his left and right hips. Smaller trees had grown at the ends of
the staff, almost comically.
'Perhaps not so humble, are we, Druid?' Aegnor asked.
The Druid graced Aegnor a small smile, before signing to the
half-breed to be silent, his expression turning businesslike.
'These are going to be a long three months, Sir Fellfire. You
are lucky I interceded on your behalf, before Anies could claim
you. He would have killed you, and her, out there.' The Druid's
voice turned soft, barely loud enough for Aegnor to hear. 'I
have Seen our journey, last night. I know you have little regard
for the fates, but you will listen to me as we travel and heed
this as your first, and last, warning. '
That would explain the redness around the First Lord's eyes.
'Of course, First Lord,' Aegnor bowed, and thought that perhaps
the First Lord was right.
It would be a long three months.
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