Elfspawn: Part IV, Veredin
Moonlight shone on the darkened ruins of an area of Gangrel Forest from a clear sky, the colour of the sea 100
fathoms down. Stars would have been visible had it not been for the heavens main occupant, that being the moon,
which glittered and burned as though to rival its daytime partner. Silver bathed the blackened tops of evergreens and
deciduous alike, casting shadows knife sharp in their intensity, the beings that occupied the little darkness' terrible in
their own right, hiding from things that sent chills down even their malformed spines. In the centre of this quiet dream
sits what once was the home of an alchemic mage. A tower stands, almost roofless, pale stone similar yet so very
different from that which a mere few weeks ago played the stage to the explosion which wrecked everything around for
a hundred yard radius.
Animals have little memory of such events, they only know the here and now, so a deer harmlessly grazes about the
sparse grass that here and there has begun to recover, pushing up from beneath fallen stones and slates. Though to an
outside observer no sound is heard, the deer looks up, a sense outside the normal five making it stare around wildly,
then leap for cover, gaining the shade and dubious protection of the trees. A wolf trots by, cheated of its prey, it's fur
dark, yet the only reason it appears to be alone is that its pack mates are circling. Even now, as the doe heads for her
fawn, carefully hidden in a leafy bower, the wolves close in. Nothing is alone, everything existing in harmony with the
next, even the moon, which appears so isolated, now is joined as the gradual greying of the sky to the east heralds the
suns imminent arrival.
Three weeks, perhaps a month ago, the top of the tower had been bathed in blue light, magic not seen to this part of
Ayenee in generations had sent sparks through the air, banishing shadow to a memory, and two wrongs had sought to
make a right, the warrior/mage known as Damien seeking retribution. Nesentra had screamed, her life energy being
torn out to feed the parasitical young that she had come here to be rid of. The door was closed, her arms tied down,
Misstress beyond reach, yet too close to enable magic use.
"This is not really happening." Her mind told her, in a feeble effort at making sense. "You bet your life it is." Spoke a
different and more realistic voice.
Pain lanced through every muscle, shooting up her spine and along her restrained limbs, burning ice into her mind. Eyes
screwed up tight, Nesentra could feel death approaching, could practically sense the cold touch on her arm, and the
blackness behind her closed lids gradually gave way to sparkles of grey. As it is said people do in such circumstances,
she began to re-live her past, life flashing before her eyes.
Firstly she saw early childhood happily spent in Ralasti, guards everywhere making time to amuse the elven girl who
laughed so freely. Then a stern man talking with her parents, hearing the word "bladesinger" through a thick door she
shouldn't have been listening at only for the next morning to be packed off, waving goodbye to the fortress and
mountains on a journey far into the elven kingdom. The next years, training, aching muscles, learning, meeting people
she still knew today, Iolanthe, her tutor, Kolibri. Then the soul jewel and everything becoming tinged with red as its
hate coloured her memory. The first force, taking Ralasti back and killing off what remained of her family to provide a
base and security, then on, into Ayenee. Poison Elves becoming more numerous, dying the first time at the hands of
Melvoruk, only to be brought back when all else had failed. Fighting Kaiyn and gaining the tattoos, torture by Crispin
and losing the jewel, only to get it back recently. Swarms corruption of her inner mind,
Chryshantia…Valaeclya…Steven…Alrin…
The grey now filled her vision, and she had long since ceased to scream, lying still as the last of her energy was drained
by the vampiric magic. As though from a huge distance she heard an explosion, a wave of heat felt over her flesh and
shrieks, not of her own. Nesentra felt some energy returning, and as arms enveloped her, untying the bonds that held
her arms and legs still, dragging her with some difficulty out of the now burning building, she opened her eyes. Vision,
though poor, was enough to pick out the ball finally fading, a small glittering object falling to the ground and rolling
under a bench, Damien's body covered in fire, flailing wildly, words of uncontrolled magic interfering with the portal
that had brought him there, another explosion…then nothing.
Now though there were no screams, no explosions, even the nighttime denizens of the forest had departed, giving way
to dawn and birdsong. The mage had left the tower, now living with the recovered Nesentra in Ralasti some distance
away, finding the seclusion of the mountains easier to work with. Everything still in one piece, and many not, had been
taken, that which was left was now covered in leaves, occasional rain, and - in the inner rooms - dust. Upon the top of
what remained of the roof a robin sang, cheerily heralding the oncoming day's good weather, whilst around a far off
den wolves sniffed and scratched, tongues lolling, well fed on the fawn that had stayed too long. The mountains were
clearly visible over the tops of the trees, indeed, one of the inhabitants of Ralasti even now gazed out over the plains,
observing the lands owned in turn by Mistress Aglaranna, the Benwyck, and the edge of the Atlantican kingdoms.
Iolanthe trained a telescope on the base of one of the outlying mountains, following a path from what had used to be a
dragons lair towards a stone circle, and then to Jael's Dragon Lair Inn, which itself afforded cult status in an ever
changing realm. On the horizon was barely visible the nearest city, an abrupt change from medieval to hi-tech, the Cali
Corporation building overshadowing many of the nearest skyscrapers. It was as well that most of the beings in Ayenee
didn't rely on money, else they would all be mere pawns in its play. The high tower was the only place in the fortress
that could glimpse the land beyond the mountains. There were three towers, of varying heights; one Crispin had used to
occupy, one lay empty as yet, and one was a true mages tower, filled with crystals, 'scopes, and other instruments. A
knock at the door announced the arrival of a visitor, and Iolanthe turned from her watching, folding her sprites wings
across a curved, voluptuous, if small back, running a splay-fingered hand through her bright pink hair before angling her
ears at an ambiguous level, and calling. "It's not locked."
Jaqua leant in through the door, sticking her head round, adorned with the characteristic ears as it was, it was hard to
not notice. "You busy?" She asked, poised to leave if necessary.
"No." Replied the sprite, hopping off the box she had to use to see through the window, and wandering over to the
sideboard, where a hot mug of tea lay, laced with the stimulant elfbark.
Jaqua came in, sauntering alongside the wall and glancing around with eyes that bespoke interest even if the rest of her
body was carefully studied nonchalance. "Chryshantia's given me a message from Nesentra; she says to stop watching
the tower if nothing has happened by now. You're needed in a tavern someplace."
Iolanthe nodded vaguely, sipping her tea. Jaqua took that as leave to go, wandering off and not really caring. The sprite
placed the cup back on the wooden chest, before turning the telescope inward, and scrambling up to the windowsill.
Only four feet tall, Iolanthe never cut an imposing figure, yet was inexcusably useful in matters of stealth…odd
considering how in a normal realm she would have stood out. Legs kept clear of the PVC material that housed the rest
of her now bunched, then released, sending her soaring out into the air, where huge dragonfly wings unfolded, a full
nine feet either side of her body, before ghosting down on air currents towards a lower window, her own room, not
bothering with the stairs that more land bound creatures needed.
Late lunchtime that same day, and a handful of poison elves sat in the main hall, exchanging knowledge in more detail
than the message board would allow, the rest of their number busy, or like in Valaeclya's case, not deigning to
participate in large gatherings. Occasional giggling broke out as one of the highly camp guards tried to accost someone
at the gate, to which the hall offered full view from a bay window. The only light coming from said glassless portal
seemed oddly little, considering how early in the day it was, and after a time the throng rose from the long table to
proceed over towards the window. Both stupid and gay guards appeared to know what was going on, and all rested
on the turrets, those not on duty massed in the courtyard and out the front of the fortress, shielding their arms with one
hand to gaze upwards at the sun. The glittering disc appeared to have a bite taken out of it, almost two thirds gone, and
as they watched yet more disappeared, Tilion drawn close to Arien by her splendour, until both were eaten by the
desire to be close, one scorched by the other.
Deep in the forest, where all had ceased the endless game of hide and seek to watch, the tower's shadow stretched
long over the earth that surrounded it, animals and insects alike held their breath; a fitting preclude to that which was
about to happen. On the tower's top floor, where the stone remained sturdy, despite its charred appearance, the
charcoal rendered bookcase now shifted, and collapsed in, becoming a pile of blackened planks. The slight movement
revealed something that had lain lost, something Nesentra had set her spy to watch for, yet missed by a matter of
hours, a twinkling reflection of the last rays of the sun held within the depths of the small marble-like crystal that lay
amongst the wreckage. About half the size of an eyeball, and so clear a casual finder might consider it glass, the object
could have remained there for an indefinite length of time, but as luck would have it, the clouds saw fit to part, admitting
the sunlight's precious glow into the collapsed chamber, and refracting in the sphere with rainbow colours that shone
mirror-ball around the remains of the floor. The sweet toothed shards could have been all that this scene produced, had
it not been for the eclipse.
The moons mirroring of the light, enough to slice through the hole in the roof, laced pale sugar across the floor, the sun
drowning it in burning glow. They closed on each other, one draping the next in a lovers embrace of delight, not caring
as to the consequences, Isil and Anar coming close as they did only seldom. It appeared that suddenly, to all watching,
a crescent of fire was then changed to a diamond ring, before that too was eclipsed, a total block, only the aurora
showing in its burning intensity. All around it, stars coldly glittered in the unaccustomed day, a once in a lifetime
occurrence. Both sun, moon and stars swept their soon gone spectacle over the forest, shining in through the hole in the
roof of the ruined tower, and directly into the centre of the recently revealed crystal.
At first, all seemed normal, then from within the sphere a light was let forth, a dull light, a pathetic attempt at an answer
to the cry from above. Though it seemed at first as though the jewel was inert, the light then increased in intensity,
rivalling that of the day, and mirroring the event overhead. White, red and blue seared forth in turn from the depths, so
that nobody alive could look upon it without being blind. Even as the eclipse sought to pass, a shape resolved in the
tower room, that of a hand, reaching from the marble's light, and pressing onto the floor in order to draw the body that
followed forth. Another limb followed, then a head, followed by a torso, body, all dragged slowly, achingly, from the
depths of the multi-hued light.
As the eclipse passed it's zenith, and all who had once riveted their gaze now went about their usual business, a body
lay in the upper room of the tower in Gangrel Forest where none had previously been. Curled up, foetus like, naked, it
possessed all the charm and sexlessneess that a child should, cherry red hair sprawled on the floor behind it, hands lain
out in nerveless exhaustion, pale skin shaking in a mixture of energy loss and desolation. Bony arms moved, pushing
itself upright with enormous effort, and dragging itself across the brickwork towards a fallen and half charred curtain as
the newborn, appearing to be about five human years old, now wrapped itself in the material, and opened gummed
eyes. The orbs themselves, whilst taking after it's mother's in being blue, were not the original azure that hers had been,
but the same colour as a midnight sky, speaking of deep pools where odd fish dwelt, and stars glittered and burned
within.
Alone, the elven child that belonged to nobody gazed out on a world that had already rejected it.
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