The Long Road

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Xaraphim
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The Long Road

Post by Xaraphim »

Snowflakes slowly and gracefully drifted towards the frozen earth, stopped intermittently by the bare branches of the forest canopy. Within a small clearing nestled in the depths of this unnamed forest there danced a small, plaintive campfire. Upon a spit there was transfixed a skinned and dressed hare, its meat sizzling and filling the air with an enticing aroma.

Some distance away from this meager flame, almost at the edge of the dancing shadows there sat a solitary figure garbed in olive trousers and a chain hauberk. A cloak of deep russet lay draped over the log on which he rested his back, and at his side there lay his armaments: a spear, a stout wooden shield and a fighting-axe.

The stranger's skin was the same color of the snow: perfectly white and free of blemish, and his hair was of a similar hue. The waxing gibbous moon cast him in an eerie glow where it touched him, lending him an almost ethereal quality.

His eyes were a deep and vivid red, his ears were sharply pointed and his fingernails each came to a wicked point. Clearly he was not human.

Time passed, and at last he drew himself up to fetch his meal from the spit. He blew on it as he returned to his resting spot, snow crunching faintly beneath his boots, and sat down once more. Truth be told, he had little appetite at present but he knew that he'd need to keep up his energy.

He took a tentative bite out of the meat and if one were close enough they might notice his two pairs of fangs; upper and lower.

He chewed thoughtfully, the only sounds in the meadow that of the slowly dying fire and the occasional gentle whisper of the wind through the trees. His eyes seemed unfocused, as if his mind wandered the myriad trails of his past.
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Post by Xaraphim »

It had been many years since he first hatched. Countless mortal lifetimes saw the span of his passing; empires blossomed, rose up and invariably crumbled--even that of his own people, of all things.

Still he persisted. Still he drew breath, and--when need arose--blood.

His lips quirked in the faintest ghost of a smile as he glanced down to his axe, his gaze tracing the runes that adorned its head. The Nordunheim had forged it for him as tribute. They had worshipped him as a god, and he did not spurn their devotion.

No one of Nordunheim descent had drawn a breath in over three hundred years now. A pity, they were a fierce people, but prone to celebration as well. He had no regrets about acting as their patron spirit; the offerings were more than substantial, and then there was the occasional dalliance with one of their maids.

Ah, memories.

Time passed, and the hare was soon little more than gristle clinging stubbornly to bone. He tossed the remains aside and gathered up his cloak into a roll, then settled down on the freezing ground and closed his eyes.

Heedless of the figure below him, the snowflakes continued to fall.
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Post by Arya Baenre »

She tugged the corner of her cloak, though it would not wrap any more around her. It was cold. That thought kept running through her mind as she moved in search of some shelter - no matter how scant. Although not much of the frozen water that fell from the sky came near the ground, the wind was constant. Her eyes alighted on the flickering of a firelight. She pulled the hood of her cloak up, drawing its cowl low so that it would hide her distinctive features and colour, and slowly brought out her dagger. She moved forwards, inch-by-inch as if walking a tight-rope. Her years on the surface had taught her that it was mad for any Drow to walk into a camp uninvited - and sometimes showing yourself was a little more dangerous.

She moved behind a tree and turned, pressing her back against the thick trunk. Slowly, she edged out to catch a view of whoever occupied the camp at that moment, the firelight sparking off amber irises.
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Your hair is pretty like a tree.
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Post by Xaraphim »

Through restless dreams his mind's eye wandered. Sleep, and smoke from the waning flame masked the scent of the approaching drow.

His breath was slow and even, and he gave no indication that he was aware of anything as he lay on the ground near the log. Curiously enough, he was settled in well away from the point at which one might feel the nourishing warmth of the fire.

The wind tousled his hair and he shifted; pleasant though the cold was to him, the ground was less forgiving.
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Post by Arya Baenre »

At first she saw nothing, yet, once she was able to see past the fire, she noticed a figure lying on the ground, far enough that the fire's warmth would have no effect. Instinct told her that anything able to withstand the cold was worth worrying about. She argued that fact - she knew little of the world above, maybe there was such?

Want of warmth drew her from the tree. She slowly walked into the campfire, noting first that it's owner was asleep. Spreading her arms wide with the dagger hidden up a sleeve, she walked to the fire and sat cross-legged. She pulled out a blade slightly longer than a dagger and kept it in front of her. Surely that man - if he was such - would realize that she was no threat before he tried to kill her.

As with most drow females, physical fighting was not her style - and she had long since abandoned her former goddess. She could do little more than a cantrip - but hopefully he wouldn't find out, or maybe he wouldn't have to. All she needed was morning. Or even a calm night without snow and gusting wind. The storm would stop soon, she hoped. Perhaps she would leave before he even noticed her.

She pulled her hood down and rubbed gloved hands together. She wouldn't let herself sleep, no matter what, she thought drowsily, her head tilting to one shoulder while she tried to keep her eyes open.
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Your hair is pretty like a tree.
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Post by Xaraphim »

Perhaps it was due to the restless pursuit of his dreams. Perhaps some trace of her scent reached him even through the haze of sleep. Or perhaps it was just some instinct, honed over several centuries of life--half of which was spent fighting for his life, no less. Whatever it was, [i:1wmxkows]something[/i:1wmxkows] caused his eyes to flutter open.

He immediately noticed the newcomer (this was not his territory, so she wasn't an intruder), but was content to simply watch for the time being to see if she--the scent was definitely feminine--noticed his passage from sleep to consciousness.

He drew a brief mental sketch of his surroundings, taking careful note of where his weapons lay just in case this visitor proved hostile.

Overhead an owl silently passed in search of prey. No other sound disturbed the quiet symphony of trees blowing in the wind; even the fire threatened to gutter and die, so much it had dwindled.
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Post by Arya Baenre »

She found herself wondering again what he was as she shivered uncontrollably. She didn't notice him awaken - she was too intent on the fire. She was currently muttering to herself and trying to fan the flames, only succeeding in making them die down much faster. Uttering a loud curse, she threw her hands down in frustration, only to bring them up just as quickly to rub some warmth into them.

She looked across at the figure. He wasn't shifting now - he lay still. She rose halfway, wondering if the cold had finally claimed him, but paused, hesitant to leave the warmth of the dying fire.

All those years back, she would not have cared. All those years back, the cause of death for any owner of a camp she wished to use would most likely have been her, and not the weather. That was far away, though. She was on her knees, still uncertain as to go check or stay.

Only one flame remained - the rest were no more than glowing embers.
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Your hair is pretty like a tree.
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Post by Xaraphim »

How furtive they were, these mortals. How swiftly their lives came and passed. Now that he had a better look at the female he could clearly make out her drow features.

He knew little firsthand about them, but all the stories he had ever heard about them highlighted their vicious nature, their insatiable need to cause pain and suffering to all they encountered. This gave him pause, for why did she not simply kill him in his sleep?

He could simply snatch up his axe and rush her. He estimated that he would have a fair chance at cutting her down before she could amass any appreciable defense...

No, that would be rude. Besides, it had been at least twelve years since he had spoken to another sapient being. Ageless as he was, he still lamented the absence of polite conversation.

So it was decided then. By her actions, she was obviously seeking the warmth his fire had offered. He found any temperature above freezing to be a nuisance, but for the sake of courtesy he would accommodate this traveler.

Certain that his weapons were near--just in case--he drew himself up into a sitting position. His movements were fluid, almost unnatural in their grace. He regarded the drow for a heartbeat's span, failing firelight glinting in his red eyes.

"If you are looking to tend the fire, then there should be a few relatively dry logs over yon, beneath that pile of leaves," he says in a quiet, serene tone. Low as it was, his melodious voice carries easily across the clearing despite the wind, despite the desperate crackling of the tiny flame.

He makes no other move as he gauges the stranger's reaction; his is the patience of a glacier.
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Post by Arya Baenre »

She jumped at the sound of his voice, her hand going to her dagger before she stopped. She stood and walked to the indicated pile and took a few logs, then returned and dropped them back into the fire. A few embers sprayed out, causing her to flinch. The fire slowly grew as it began to eat the wood.

She lifted her head up, unconsciously tugging at her hood. She was not sure if he was close enough to see her face. She hoped he wasn't - or that he hadn't heard of the tales of her race. Most of those stories had made it so that she had not seen civilization for months, except for when she passed unnoticed by travelers.

"T-thank you." she stammered in a heavily accented, deep voice. She crouched by the fire and brought her gloved hands to it. The fire was big enough now that she felt warm enough. She looked up at him, "You don't f-feel cold?" She spoke slowly, as if measuring her words.
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Your hair is pretty like a tree.
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Post by Xaraphim »

He smiles gently, noting with some amusement how she takes suck pains to obfuscate her nature. How could she know, of course? This world, this "Cradle of Life" as it was called, was so far removed from the now-ruined Isola Empire that its locals had no doubt heard of his race. Ah well.

"You are most welcome," he replies in his hauntingly beautiful voice, "Though I make no claim to this land, and as such I cannot take credit for offering that which belongs to none. Still, if it is a warm place to sleep while Selune makes her trek across the sky then be welcome."

He stretches, his eyes lingering on that distant orb and the trail of diamonds the followed in her wake. He looks down, back to the drow. The moonlight seems to reflect off of him, lending him an almost ghostly appearance. Were it not for the mail armor and other clothing one might mistake him for an apparition.

"Am I cold?" He tilts his head and laughs softly. "Yes, I suppose that I am. Our people came into being before there was a sun; the land was an endless night of cold, bitter winter. I was not alive then, of course, but those are the tales I was told. Winter's bite is more a loving caress for my kind, you could say."

He continues to watch her, wondering just where her accent comes from. He has walked Abeir Toril for some time now, enough to learn the names and roles of several gods, enough to get a general grasp of the geography but the continent of Faerun is a large place, and he still has a good deal to explore.
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Post by Arya Baenre »

She blinked at that comment and stared into the fire, not really noticing his gaze on her. Before there was a sun? She supposed that there might have been such a time - she'd lived for long in the drow city of Menzoberranzan without ever believing such a thing existed. But he made it seem as if thousands of centuries had passed. Was he a lunatic?

She had never even heard of his race. He looked like an elf, but his skin was too pale for that - and his hair was white. A sign of age? Maybe he had lived underground for a while - that would make sense of his "no sun" statement. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw his fangs. She gripped her cloak unnecessarily hard, wondering if she should still be sitting here. Was he one of those things that the humans said sucked blood and only came in the night? What were they called ... vampires?

She bit her lip, uncertain of what to say. Questions just seemed to bring up more questions with him.
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Your hair is pretty like a tree.
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Post by Xaraphim »

He notes her growing unease with puzzlement. Why did mortals always seem so put off around him? It was a mystery he never solved. Even his slaves, back so long ago when he lived surrounded by luxury, had seemed perpetually frightened of he and all his kin. No one was treated unduly, and the Isola were sure to see that all their slaves were well fed and cared for. After all, of what use is a slave that is too weak to lift itself out of bed?

Curious, these creatures of warmth and furtive youth.

He continued to watch her, taking in as many details as he could. New people always intrigued him ever since he set out on his Long Road. Even though his people's time had passed, the lives of others would continue on. There was a certain comfort in knowing for fact that the multiverse did not require one's existence in order to keep going.

After some length he spoke again.

"I apologize, but I finished the last of my rations some days ago. I had a hare, but I had no way of knowing there would be company. Also, I am not entirely certain where we are, in fact. I've been on the road, so to speak, for quite a while..."

He ponders thoughtfully, tapping his lip with a claw. "I did set a few snares before I made camp. Perhaps with any luck there will be something to eat ere long. If you have a pot or kettle handy then I'm sure I could whip up a stew of sorts."

OOC: Edited for typo
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Post by Arya Baenre »

She waited for something to fill the silence, continuing to rub her hands near the fire, although they were growing uncomfortably hot. She grew aware of his gaze on her, and stared at the fire, concentrating hard on the orange-yellow flames. She wasn't going to -

His voice broke her line of thought. She turned and opened her mouth to say that it was fine, when she felt how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten since last morning. She closed her mouth and nodded, pulling her pack off of her shoulders and setting it down. The movement seemed to renew the cold in her, and she shivered again.

Pulling out a pot, she filled it with snow and held it near to the fire so that she could clean it. "I think that would be nice," she paused, realizing she didn't know his name. She wondered if it was considered rude to ask. Surface dwellers' customs eluded her even now. She pointed to herself. "I am called Niz'tar'a."

The snow had melted sufficiently enough - even though it was still mostly slush. She shook the pan a bit and turned it over away from the fire. There. It was clean, now. All they needed was the food. She stood, attempting to brush caked snow off of her cloak. "Where are your ..." she stopped for a moment, as if trying to remember something, "snare?"
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Your hair is pretty like a tree.
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Post by Xaraphim »

He smiles warmly and bobs his head once. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Niz'tar'a," he says in effortless common. "I am named Leaf Disturbs the Quiet of a Still Pool at Dawn, though that it my seeking-name. Most simply call me Leaf, though over the years I've taken the habit of answering to almost any swear word."

The corner of his mouth quirks in the faintest glimmer of a smile.

"Although, as much of a mouthful as my name can be I somehow doubt it will do much to fill an empty stomach. Wait here and I will return as swift as I am able. I only checked two of my snares at sundown. With luck, there may be something in the other three."

Leaf gathers up his axe and tucks it into his belt, uncoiling from his sitting position to stand with an almost inhuman grace, then scoops up his spear.

"You seem troubled still by the cold. Feel free to borrow my cloak," he says as he gestures to the rolled up garment. "I should return shortly."
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Post by Xaraphim »

The strange elf leaves, his passing barely a whisper. Selune makes her way across the starry sky, which has by now cleared almost fully. The night sky resembles a vast dome studded with tiny jewels, and the moon travels a slow, graceful arc through the breathtaking canopy.

The blanket of calm settles once more over the clearing. Save for the biting cold it would make an idyllic setting. Even with the climate, however, the moonlit clearing makes for a scene of almost otherworldly beauty. A mantle of snow drapes over everything the fire's warmth doesn't chase away. It seems as if the earth were a mirror to the sky; light and darkness both scattered with diamonds.

When the moon has made a finger's width in her journey, Leaf returns. Soundlessly he approaches the camp; he clears his throat softly at the edge so as not to startle the drow. In one hand is a white hare, its neck freshly wrung and in the other is a small assortment of vegetables.

He approaches the fire, holding the animal to Niz'tar'a.

"Luck seems to favor you tonight. I found a hare in one of the traps, and also a few wild carrots and onions. I saw some mushrooms as well, but my hands were a bit full."
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