Hunting the Gurtha Maten --The Hunt--

Vistalzidar woke with a smile at his tingling lips from the parting kiss. He dressed quickly in his black mail and Shadow Leathers, strapping his bow back and his quiver full of Silver Oak arrows to his waist. His Shadow Sword was next, the weight of its leather sheath against his right thigh a comfort.
Tugging on his knee high leather boots and attaching special steel caps over the toes and heel, Vistalzidar smiled broadly. One well placed kick would now kill a Drow easily.
From a his leather pack he carefully removed a small silver dagger, engraved on the blade was his father's name. If he had had time, he would have had his brothers name carved into the blade also, but alas, time was short. This was the weapon that would avenge his father and brother and countless other Drow. This was the weapon that he would thrust into Talloth's black heart.
Vistalzidar slipped it into his belt and strode from the tent, out into the bright sunlight and under the attention of the elven Huntresses. He noticed the venomous looks that Ax and Lanilor shot to each other and frowned, but refused to get involved with such foolishness anymore.
"Today, we march to the borders of my people's land. There we will set up camp and spend the remainder of the day setting up for the assault. Come nightfall, the battle will begin in earnest. I will not lie to you. Many of you will die tonight, but do not let that deter you from this cause. This is more than just an internal struggle between the Drow. This is more than just a campaign bent on revenge. This battle may very well decide the chances of life surviving the Gurtha Maten."
Vistalzidar drew his Shadow Sword and held it aloft. "Fight Bravely! Fight with Honour! Lloth kyorl dos d'jal! And Talloth Da'gar...Vith'os!

*continuation

The green skinned lady laughed lightly, hand over her mouth. “I did not even say it was free. Though, yes it is. And no, it is not rusty,” Leaning down beneath the counter, she searched around for a minute, Vele tapping her foot softly against the ground, a mixture of curiosity and impatience. The lady held up a delicate, work toughened finger, a signal for Vele to stay in place. “Ah, there you are!” Relief in her voice, she took out a sword in its sheath, holding it out horizontally as she displayed it to Veleanith.

Veleanith tried, but she couldn’t hide the fact that was she was impressed by the weapons craft. The first thing she had noticed was the clear stone marble hilt, finely smoothed down, aristocratic in nature. The sheath had a brilliant dark shine to it, elven words engraved in gold down the front, characters aligning the side. By the hilt and the opening of the sheath, a mahogany red banner connected the two, the colors almost swirling under Vele’s eye.

Taking the weapon, Veleanith held it out in her hands fragile like, shaking her head with a disdainful smile as she started to hand it back. “My apologies ma’am, but I can not take this. It seems far too rich for a mere gold coin. Besides, I do not think it would be well suited for me.” Finished Veleanith with a laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used a sword, nonetheless a four foot one.

The lady would hear none of it, pushing it onto Veleanith, green fingers resting gently on Vele’s hand. “I shall hear nothing of the sort, Mistress. Your kindness at buying what you have no intention of using was good enough reason for me to offer it to you. And in all fact,” The lady tilted her head, Vele sensing a smile behind her veil. “I think it would suit you best of all. You and only you.”

Veleanith rubbed the side of her neck, the weapon resting lightly in one hand. “You truly believe so ma’am? Because of a rare moment of kindness, the weapon is destined for me?” She chuckled, rubbing onto the smooth clear marble of the hilt, entranced by the touch. “I think you may have been listening to too many tales of lore.”

“Well perhaps this is nothing more but a tale of lore…” countered the lady, leaning back to across the wooden stand. “Take the weapon Miss. Use it when need be and considering the vibrations of the earth I have been feeling for quite some days now…” She finished somberly. “You will need it.”

Veleanith, highly skeptical at this point, shrugged wordlessly as she attached it to her left side, it feather light against her leg. “If you truly believe so, I shall hold onto it for you,” Backing up into Midi, Vele hugged onto her neck nervously. She mounted Midi quickly, looking back to the watchful lady with a smirk. “Thank you for your kindness. Goodbye ma’am.” Waving, she turned Midi around, heading back onto the forest path.

The lady watched her go wistfully, a pensive wind blowing by and throwing her hood off, erratic forest green hair blowing out towards the west and into the wind. A smile soon crossed her middle aged features, ethereal green eyes glowing marvelously, near deviously as she brought up a pale green hand and waved it daintily. “Goodbye Veleanith…” A thick leaf covered branch flew across, inches away from the stand and the lady. Sweeping back into its high proud stature, the stand no longer stood, the lady having all but vanished, all in a breath of the wind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Veleanith entered the camp, a tinge of frustration in her eyes, a pout across her lips. Clutching onto the hilt of the weapon, she pulled fiercely, no result coming from her tug. An elven warrior placing multiple arrows across her back watched her perplexed whereas Veleanith smiled agitated in her direction. “I have found myself a sword that can not be removed from its sheath. Though perhaps,” She took the sword from her side, holding it out the female warrior. “You would care to try? Maybe I just have not regained all my strength.”

Nodding her head, the elven warrior figuring that was most likely, she took the blade from Veleanith, calmly starting to unsheathe it. She stopped soon after, unable to even grasp it. Trying again, she put a higher degree of strength into it, pulling fiercely, gritting her teeth, stopping as she tried to regain her breath.

“So I feared…” murmured Veleanith in rue, jumping from Midi’s back. Holding onto the sheath, Vele motioned for the brown haired warrior to hold steadfast to the hilt. Mouthing silently, she counted up to three, on the last number, the two pulling furiously two each side, making little to no progress. The sheath slid from Veleanith’s grasp, she stumbling back onto the ground testily, the warrior barely managing to keep her balance.

“Fain, lle olvann…” read the elven warrior, eyes squinted at the scripture across the sheath.

“To release, you lose,” translated Veleanith, sitting on her backside with her knees up casually, she leaning back on her hands.

The woman glanced down to her. “Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?”

Veleanith looked up, forcing her hood on as the sun rose up high from the east. Helping herself up, she gave a weak smile. “Very little,” She was lying, she understood a bountiful of phrases, but she always tried not to reveal too much. Taking back her weapon, she chuckled. “Well, if it comes down to it, I guess I will have to pummel any oncoming Drow with my sheath.” Joked Veleanith lightheartedly, taking Midi’s reins and guiding her towards the rest of the strangers, figuring she’d fit in better with the odd ones in the battle.

Managing to hear most of Vistalzidar’s speech, Vele exhaled, her eyes magnificently lit up from the little sunlight that managed to strike her. Mounting Midi, she looked ahead, eyes narrowed. “To battle, Midiayla…”

‘Hopefully it will not be our last…’

An orange haze in the western horizon. The sun glowed famously in the dimming azure sky, dark trees billowing in the distance, the wind almost chilling at the higher atmosphere. Veleanith narrowed her eyes, the sun no longer as much of a threat as it had been earlier the day. Sweeping the cloak from her features, she stood alone at the edge of a small cliff, watching as the elven and Drow warriors prepared for the oncoming battle mere hours away.

Anxiety. It was piercing through every part of her, her sharp fangs automatically bared in her fear. Veleanith knew it would disappear an instant before the battle, she would gain a cold disposition, seriousness would be her main emotion. Holding onto her arms, she closed her eyes, wind brushing past her face, calming her heart, it beating a little faster than usual. 'Though it is not fear that makes my heart stay hasty. I can not shake the feeling...'

Refusing to finish the rest of her thoughts, Vele pulled at the hilt of her sword, making a face at its resistant. Throwing several strands of green behind to her back, mixing them in with raven, Vele turned her eyes downward, watching as the other vampires prepared themselves, not sure of what they'd be up against. Ax stood as resiliant to them as ever, where Vistalzidar was she wasn't certain, Melcanin, she assumed was probably rallying her troops. Entranced by so many down below, Veleanith kept her golden gaze downwards, peering into the faces of many, knowing she would only see few in the end.

"I might be one of the faces I never see again..." Vele whispered ominously, closing her eyes.

Lanilor stood up and spoke quietly to Ismalia "Im going for fresh air if he trys anything then fight him as best you can and call for me ok" He said softly. "Ok" She wispered back. Then Lanilor turned and put his hands inside is big sleves and put his hood up and kept all of his skin out of the sun light. He walked out of the tent and looked about at people moving stuff around.

In the closeish distance he saw the girl from earlier, stood on her own gazing into the distance. He walked swiftly to her and tried to stay from sunlight as much as possible. He walked up next to her "So what are we fighting exactly?" He said looking down at all the busy bodies below.

Whilst those around him went busily about preparing for the battle, Vistalzidar sat in the middle of a small patch of grass, seemingly doing nothing but soaking up the sun. In truth, he was meditating once again, focusing all of his conciousness on the Shadow within him and around him as his fingertips ran lightly across the ancient words carved into his tunic and his lips moved in silent chant.
He knew that only one with complete focus, only someone who was one with the Shadow, could have a hope of even attempting to kill Talloth Da'gar. But Vistalzidar had been trined since birth for moments such as this. Extreme situations that required and extreme amount of Shadow power to combat it.
Vistalzidar also knew that using so much of his Strength to control such a force would be so taxing as to possibly prove fatal. This was something he had kept from the others, even Veleanith, though he was finding more difficult to keep such information from her by the hour.
He opened his eyes slowly and scanned his surroundings. Spotting Veleanith atop a small cliff, he smiled and waved, praying that such a thing would not happen, and that he would survive this battle to have some sort of hope of being with her, of growing old with her...of dying with her.

Melcanin walked through the formiing ranks of elven huntresses, nodding and recognising those she'd fought with for so many years, they all new and practically welcomed death, this is what they lived for.

Ax laughed. Vampire's, they only equal to Lycans, because the Werewolves aren't that dangerous in the day. However in the night, a Lycan could outmanuever any Vampire. Ax took out his blade and swang it a little. It was an ancient blade, called the Blade Of Romania. The blade is the blade Draco used in Romania. Ax didn't kill him by himself, but about five other lycans helped him. Which died as quickly as they got into the fight. Ax saw Vistaldzer waving to Vele. Ax came up to Vistaldzer. "Say, do the drows use silver weapons?" asked Ax curiously.

Veleanith waved back to Vistalzidar smiling, only dropping her cheery façade as he closed his eyes, she falling down onto the wind chilled grass, legs sprawled out through the green landscape. Her anxiety still hadn’t left her and it was starting to actually worry her…and also, a secondary thought had crossed her mind.

Only able to see the oncoming stars, the warmth of the sun able to gently lay itself across her bare stomach, Veleanith fixed her eyes on the clouds drearily floating past. “You would tell me everything, would you not?” It was her now spoken thought, her gut speaking before her mind could process the sentence.

Sitting up, Veleanith buried her fingers into the moist brown earth frustrated, with her free hand, coiling ivy around her flowing ebony hair. She knew who she was referring to as soon as the first word slipped from her lips and it bothered her she would question his trust. Third quibble, another fact eating at her…that she trusted him so much, with her heart…with her life.

Ruffling her hair about as she shook her head, Veleanith stood up, looking out onto the warriors. ‘Now I fear I am becoming sentimental…’ She laughed to herself weakly, only stopping as she heard a voice by her side.

“So what are we fighting exactly?”

Glancing quickly to the side, Veleanith exhaled slowly, focusing on the sun as she smiled. “We are going into battle against the Drow, Lanilor. They excel in shadow affinities so I suggest you be on your guard. As for the why,” Turning from the warriors, she looked to Lanilor with her eyes aglow from the sunlight. “We are to stop Talloth, a power hungry Drow who wishes to try and take control over the Court of Ice and Stone, plummeting the land into a premature darkness, Gurtha Maten being able to run unchecked throughout the fields, bringing about the end of the world…” finished Veleanith ominously, her expression solemn.

At seeing Lanilor’s expression, she smiled once more, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. “I hope you were not expecting a lighter objective! I wish you and your comrade…? Lover…? Sister…? I think I’ll just call her by her name, I wish you and Ismalia the best in this battle,” She paused, thinking, gaining a nonchalant expression. “By the way, my name is Veleanith, you can call me Vele, never Velean.” Squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, she walked to the edge of the cliff, jumping over and sliding downwards down the steep slope.

Landing daintily to the bottom, stumbling onto proper footing, Veleanith hopped slightly to get rid of the heat beneath her heels, smarting from the fall. After regaining her balance, Veleanith stopped to watch Vistalzidar, eyes closed heavily in focus. She found she was tempted to reach out to him, just in case she’d never be able to do so again. Balling up her fists, she forced restraint on her wanting soul and walked away, leaving him to his mediation and to Ax who had questioned him.

Veleanith only had to walk just a little bit away before bumping into Melcanin who seemed to be finishing up her inspection on the last of her troops. At seeing her finish, Veleanith extended a hand, smiling. “I am not too certain I ever properly introduced myself but my name is Veleanith, you can call me Vele, never Velean,” She pulled back her hand for a second, digging into a pocket or few…actually several, she wasn’t very organized at times. Taking out the several herbs she had bought earlier, she handed it to Melcanin with a shrug. “Herbs have never been of much use to me but perhaps these will end up benefiting you in some small way?” suggested Veleanith with a thoughtful expression.

Vistalzidar, eyes still closed, cocked an eyebrow at the Lycan's question, a smile playing across his lips. "Take a look in my quiver," Vistalzidar said, motioning to the object lying on the ground beside him. "Tell me what you see?"
Vistalzidar opened his eyes to regard Ax. "Yes, they are indeed made of wood. But do not presume that they cannot kill you. Silver Oak is a mystery even to the Drow, Ax. It is wood, yet, it is also silver. It will do the very same thing a true silver arrow would do were you to be shot with one. You, of all the people here, must be ever vigilant in this battle, for every Drow from my sect carries Silver Oak arrows."
Vistalzidar rose and placed a hand on Ax's shoulder. "My suggestion is that you focus your attention on the outsiders...on those not from my sect, for they will not have Silver Oak arrows. It will be hard to tell the difference with the amount of shadow magic that will be present, but you seem to be reasonably proficient in the art of Shadow, so I am sureyou will cope."
Vistalzidar patter the Lycan's shoulder reassuringly and sat back down on the grass, closing his eyes and slipping back into his meditation, leaving Ax to mull over his own thoughts.

Melcanin walked to one of the younger huntresses who was part Drowess, she nodded to the young woman who nodded back and made her way slowly from the ranks, walking toward Vistalzidar, bowing slightly and then standing once more, "I am known as Keltranitia amoungst the elven women master Drow, I was informed by Melcanin that you knew my father when you were welcomed in the Drow lands...his name was Garavndil."

Vistalzidar scramble to his feet, bowing before Keltranitia with his hand over his heart. "I am Vistalzidar, as I am sure you are well aware by now," A large smile spread across his features. "And I more than knew your father, Keltranitia, he taught me most of what I know about the art of Shadow magic. He and my father made me the man I am today."
He held a hand out to her. "It is nice to meet the daughter your father talked about often." He lost his cheery expression for one of immense sadness, the sudden change startling. "And I am deeply sorry for you loss. He was a great man, and like many great men, did not deserve to die at the hands of those death eating beasts, the Gurtha Maten."

There was a lingering steel in Keltranitia's eyes, she inclined her head, "He wished me to pass a message to you if I were to ever cross paths with you." She paused, "It is time when the sun rises for your path to be flooded in darkness and then be ridden with enemies. Once a student, now a master, the time is yours...grasp it and you will succeed."

"My father ever the master of cryptic messages seemed to relish his last words...I hope it is of some use to you master drow."

Vistalzidar smiled sadly and nodded. "It will be of much use indeed, Keltranitia. I thank you for passing on your fathers parting words to me."
Vistalzidar placed a hand on her shoulder. "I am honoured to have the daughter of the great Master Garavndil fight beside me in battle. Fight honour, fight with courage, but most of all, fight well enough to survive. I do not want to see you body littering the killing fields, understood?"

"Hardly likely master drow, my father lived long enough to complete my training, it was I who killed the Gurtha Maten which had intended on mutilating his noble body."

Vistalzidar did a double take, running what Keltranitia had said through his head. "Wait, did you just say you killed a Gurtha Maten!" by the end of his question his voice had risen to a near shout in his excitement. When Keltranitia took a step back from him in shock, he calmed himself quickly.
"I am sorry...but please, sit," he motioned to the grass. "You must tell me how you did this." He seated himself and Keltranitia, after a nod from Melcanin, followed suit.
"No one on the face of this land knows how to kill a Gurtha Maten," Vistalzidar said. "In fact, the Court of Ice and Stone has entrusted an elf I know to discover how to kill them...and I intend to help him, should we ever cross paths again." Vistalzidar's thoughts went back to Istalindir, sorry for the way he had walked out on the young elf.
But enough of that. You must tell me how you achieved a feat that no being on this Earth has managed to achieve before."

"With this," She drew the incredibly long sword from its heavy wooden sheath and brought it to her side, "It is the fabled weapon of Aragoun, the tale you would well know I presume." She wielded it as if it weighed nothing, "My father passed it onto me once he saw my skill with arrow and bow...since then I have allowed no other sword to hang by my side."

Lanilor watched the women slide down the slope then he turned and walked away. He walked back to the tent and saw people sat have a conversation with the Master Drow but he just walked inside the tent, untill he heard something about the Gurtha Maten. Then he popped his hood covered head outside the tent trying to get a listen in on the creatures he had heard about but never seen.

Veleanith walked along through the site, the sun almost set, dusk slowly arriving onto the war heading group. Sitting down under the shade, she closed her eyes in concentration, figuring she might as well get in her last minutes of energy…they were, after all, on the verge of battle. ‘And then from here, what next…? I could always contact a former companion of mine…although she is a little too eccentric, even for this motley group.’ Smiling to herself sadly, the plant life around her started to pulsate, moving about irregularly in her semi concentration.

‘I do not even know if I will live out the night and I already speak of the future…I wonder…’ Opening an eye, she risked a glance to Vistalzidar, quickly closing them back on site. ‘I wonder if we will even have a future.’ Sighing, she turned her back to him, looking towards the forest to concentrate, almost going into full trance mode, four words cutting her bonds from the forest completely.

“…killed a Gurtha Maten!”

Almost instantly her eyes snapped open, shock visible in her dilated golden eyes. Blinking away the blur in her eyes, Veleanith moved back slightly, still facing the forest. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate fully, not now, this was far more important than gathering up her strength. Not normally an eavesdropper, she listened in on the female talking intently, hoping to hear how exactly it was possible.

Sticking out her tongue at hearing only the weapon used, Veleanith closed her eyes broodingly, hoping for a more detailed view on how she could slay the abominations that had currently walked the land…hoping she could finally find a way to get revenge for her brethren…

"The Blade of Aragoun!" Vistalzidar hissed, his eyes widening at the sight of the fabled weapon. Vistalzidar remembered being a young Drow, seated with his brother in wide eyed wonder at the feet of his father and Master Garavndil as they spun the tale of the great Drow warrior Aragoun.
It was said that when Aragoun wielded the great sword, its blade burst to life with searing green fire, piercing even through the three inch thick steel armour that the legendary and now extinct Minotaur race wore in battle. Alone, wielding only his fabled blade, Aragoun defeated the Minotaur king and his legion, freeing the Drow from the slavery that was destroying their race.
"Master Garavndil had this blade?" He asked in wonder, shaking his head slightly. "And you are able to weild it...does this mean..." Vistalzidar's eyes widened further. "Does this mean that you are of Aragoun's bloodline?"

Lanilor heard how the young women did it and then thought to himself. *Well if thats how she did it then im foocked* Then he turned and went back in the tent to see how Ismalia was.