Century of Tears: The End and Beginning.

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Rainbow Prism
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Century of Tears: The End and Beginning.

Post by Rainbow Prism »

Smoke and incenses filled the dirty pub air. Though it did not bother most part of the public which drank the mead with eagerness. Eagerness that was born of need for something to hold on to.

For some it was break on the hard day.
For some it was wallowing in self pity.
For some it was sorrow at loss of something very dear.
For some it was recollection of good old days.
For some it was attempt to drown in it in the days of horror which are now usual routine.

For one, it was all.

Staggering, figure draped in ragged green cloak with many stitches and holes moved away from door space. Each movement looked like it was forced. Lifeless, without passion. Lithe humanoid which is fabled by grace of it's kind was balancing on the verge of plummeting in the dirt. Leaving behind another village, corner of sentience in the wilderness, the elf moved the legs to the deserted forest path. Barely registering something tugging her cloak, elf lowered her hood even lower, hand touching the cloth to free it from accidental splinter on the wall of establishment. A hint of surprise was barely visible in the shade of the cape when it turned out that it was the hand that held the cotton material of the garment.
"Stranger... Do not go there..." Rasping voice came from the owner of the limb, human who was laying on the ground near the pub, most likely unaccepted inside because of his poverty. But when the man turned his face to look at the demihuman, signs of the affliction that scarred his face - perhaps even most parts of his body under filth - became apparent.
"I beg you... This path... Is not safe. Listen... Please... Evil lurks there..."
Once she would try to help him, maybe cure his ailment. But now that person simply does not see this man. Tugging at the folds of the cloak, eyes gave one last look at the beggar. For one moment, human shuddered, sensing the feeling of anguish and pain in that stare. His fingers let go of the fabric. He thought, maybe she does not care. He could be right.

Passing through the night, the elf did not even bother to crouch to avoid the branches of trees and bushes. Moon lit the path brightly, pleasing to the sensitive eyes, yet that shine was hollow to the traveler. The pilgrim strolled through high grass, slipping twice, maybe thrice. Leather bag on her shoulder made almost no sound no matter how painful the fall looked. Even less came from the lips, hiss of the breath the only voice coming from her.
On her way no monster attacked her, but the evidence of lands being twisted could be noted. The most disturbing was one tree, fully crystallized, unnatural cold radiating from it. Taking a look at it, no emotion appeared on dark-skinned face. Sudden whistle of projectile near her did not change that.
"Hand over your goods, chum!"
Turning back, vagrant faced her assailants, but certainly not expecting them. Unlike usual bandits, the attackers were barely human. Purple skin growing scales, spikes and thorns, each of them was grinning with pointed sharp fangs. One of them had hands with glass-like substance, heavy fog coming down from the surface. Now mystery of the frozen tree was discovered.
"Hey, we got a missy here! Now, hand ove' your belongin', and maybe we will act like... uh... gental...gentlemen, yeah!"
Not replying, while the ruffians struggled with correct grammar, the visage thrown the bag to the soles of surprised bandits.
"Alright. That was easy." The leader wanted to scratch his head, but suddenly put the palms away, avoiding contact. Looking at the lone figure, greedy eyes caught shimmer on the moonlight under the cloak.
"You got sword, eh? Useless for you anyway. Now, give it to us."
Sudden shudder made crossbowers uneasy, tensing the fingers on triggers. Slowly elf looked down at the weapon under her cloak, strapping it off from belt. Finest example of elven craftsmanship, now it was dented, rust coming to the metal of scabbard. Tear went down the cheek and trembling fingers clasped the hilt. Sudden jerk of the hand and the weapon was free and maiden rushed at the attackers. Quarrels flew in her direction, one of them hitting in the shoulder and other grazing cheek, leaving deep gash and throwing down the hood. Without stopping, the maiden rushed with blade at the leader, mask of rage distorting her fair features of elven beauty. The vicious slash was followed by spilling blood and scream.
"She cut me hand! She cut me ha...!" The wail stopped when bandit touched the spot where his arm was, the glassy limb spreading cold and completely freezing the man. Next blow broke his body in many pieces. Throwing down their crossbows, monstrous assailants charged with their clubs. They met flash of azure eyes and cold steel.

Tender hands put on the bandages at the wounds, stopping the bleeding. The projectile was removed, thrown down on the ground to lay with the corpses of deformed humans. Properly disinfecting the injuries, the woman moved stare of her pink eyes to the stained sword. The blade reminded of pain and white teeth bit lip, drawing blood from them away. That was the day she gained her life and lost it at the same time. The day when she was tricked, robbed and denied of her wish. Taking up the torn cloak, bag and longsword, dark elf moved on to find something to fill the emptiness in her heart.

1476 year of Dale Reckoning. The time when hope sounded as foolish as it was in language of the deep.
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Rainbow Prism
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Re: Century of Tears: The End and Beginning.

Post by Rainbow Prism »

"You know, this is unfair."
Pink orbs looked at the sword that pierced the earth with it's chipped blade. Clearing in which the elf was resting was fair distance away from forest defiled by arcane plague, patched tent fluttering against the wailing winds. Sitting in front of the sword, vagabond was holding the bottle of strong spirits, wobbling like reed against the river flow.
"How could you do this to me?" She continued, pointing at the sword in accusing tone. "You had no right for this. I had nothing to live for. And I still don't. And probably will never have. Could you make it anymore miserable for me?!" Bottle slipped away with forceful throw, missing the target far.
"And worse of all..." tears dropped from her brown cheeks. "You left me alone. You did nothing to deserve such meaningless death, nys." Cry of sadness erupted in the cold night of the Fall, echoing with discord.

*****

Moving away from the mounds of Evereska, dark elf ran in the flight. There was no pursuit, but she wished there was. Tumbling through low bushes and ignoring flailing scratching twigs, Eo ran. Legs were long running on spirit alone and heart was beating wildly, ready to explode in her chest. Yet, she ran, away from her shame and loss.
Stopping, but more from loss of spirit than strength. Grabbing the trunk of the tree and leaning on it, elf was struggling for her breath. She closed sensitive eyes, burrowing face in the hard bark of the tree, blocking images of freshly past events.

Awakening.
Mourning.
Long march to the destination.
Meeting the eyes with no condemnation present.
Mourning.
Funeral.

Not being able to take it anymore, lithe hands embraced the trunk and neck arched back to explode in sudden strain. Screaming with rage and dismay, forehead took the punishment as she bashed her head to make it all stop. It did stop, but with last image, the clearest of them all.

Silver disk with crescent.

Letting go, demihuman slided down, exhausted physically and morally. The image still clear in her mind, fingers searched for amulet on her neck, one of few things left of her friend and comrade. Metal disc with engraving of holy symbol which gives sense of reverence to many descendants of his first children. But what she felt was despisal and hatred to Corelon as she looked at the crescent of silver.
It reminded of so many losses. Many children, youthes, died for the ideals to the most stunning result no one expected - death of their protector, Eilistraee. Unimaginable loss was felt by many, clerics were known to tear their faces with their nails with sorrow. Then came miracle that somewhat soothed hearts of lonely worshipers with no deity. The obsidian turned to the color of bark and silver turned to coal. The selected drow turned to the dark elves by the grace of Corelon, curse of millenniums broken. The followers found their place in the Elven Court, sacrifice of the Maiden not forgotten. Yet, Eowiewiel never felt any ease with that.
Now, this death was last drop.
Tearing away the symbol from chain with her hands, eyes malevolently stared at it.
"You just cannot be sated by one death? So, was soul of one dirty returnee not enough? You had to take your priest's soul and eject me? You are worse than Araushnee!" Spit moistened the metal, staining the cover. With last vestiges of strength, elf lass thrown away the thing that most would treasure. Looking as it flew away in the darkness of night, she stepped forward, away from elf settlements, trying to make sense of everything in this confusing life.
Beginning of the new century, marked by words of loss and and despair.
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