Melcanin jumped onto Betrana's back and whistled, summoning a large hawk from the trees to her arm, she whispered something deep and meaningful in elvish to the bird. It screeched in understanding and leaped from her naked arm, its powerful wings assisting it in its efforts as it flew from her sight, she turned to the Drow men, "More of my kind have been sent for, your opponents stand no chance now my friends now you have the Huntresses of the Northern Forests on your side."
She smiled proudly as she galloped with them.
Vistalzidar shook his head slightly as they galloped west towards the Veldrin Ranges. He realised, that what was about to take place would make history, if indeed the huntress had sent for help from her own kind. Never had the Elves and the Drow joined forces in any military action, at least to Vistalzidar's knowledge, and yet here they were, on the verge of a joint assault on Vistalzidar's own people.
He hoped that they would be able to take Talloth down without killing too many of the innocents, but knew such thoughts to be folly. Talloth would send his people against Vistalzidar's attack without a second thought in order to protect his ambitions.
Strangely, deep down, Vistalzidar greatly welcomed the assisstance of the Huntress' bretheren, and that was something Vistalzidar had never in his lifetime expected to admit; that he, a Drow, welcomed the help of the Elven kind.
A far off war cry stopped the small party. Melcanin beamed and returned the cry, galloping off over the small rise to be greeted by a force of 250 strong atleast, all on horseback, sleek from endless training and bearing their individual arms.
Melcanin put a hand on the shoulder of her second in command, the slightly smaller woman smiling and doing the same, "Maegovannen Melcanin, I was glad to recieve your message and left the village right away. Were is the Drow that I am to meet?"
Melcanin smiled and nodded, "He is the tallest and on the large black steed Eirhala, choose your timing whenever you like, I will address the league."
Eirhala nodded and kicked her steeds sides, forcing the horse to gallop fiercely toward the Drow gathering, he reared and stamped almost right infront of Vistalzidar. Her eyes shone with a strength and courage that she'd known and gained since almost birth, she held out a leather clad arm, "Greetings, you are the first Drow I have the honor of meeting, my name is Eirhala, second in command of the Leagues of the Forests of the Northern clans."
Vistalzidar bowed from his saddle. "I am Vistalzidar Xillessidor," motioning to his nephew he added, "And this is my second, Aelizor Xillessidor, my nephew. I must say, Eirhala, I am most greatful for your assisstance in this matter."
He turned his stallion a little, but not so much as to turn his back on Eirhala, for he didn't want to disrespect her so soon after meeting. To his men he said, "Today markes a great day for our kind. For the first time in our history we shall be joined in a military movement, albeit a small one, by the elven kind. Whether we win or lose, this simple fact will leave its mark indented in the history of this land. However, I have no intention of losing. Talloth must not be allowed to gain control of the Court of Sand and Stone. I will will die before I let that happen willingly, and I hope you are willing to do the same."
"Ultrin!" His men bellowed. "A'dos quarth, Vistalzidar! Dal ultrinnan ulu el'inssrigg!"
Vistalzidar chuckled at the last chant and turned back to Eirhala. "It appears my men are already dreaming of the drink. Perhaps we should end this quickly, lest they desert us for an ale," he finished with a chuckle and a rueful smile.
Eirhala smiled and turned her body slightly as a cheer came from the Leauge of elven women, and then silence as the ranks split and a smaller group on foot made there way forward. Eirhala's smile broadened, "Our sisters from the West have decided to join us, you will enjoy watching these elven warrioresses fight my Drow friend. They are foot soldiers, the finest these plains have ever seen. If our enemies had no chance previous, all hope should have dwindled by now, we are almost assured sucess."
Eirhala went quiet at the end of her small speech, a very largely build elven woman was jogging their way, she raised her spear in greeting to Eirhala who did the same, as she came closer the finer details of both her scars and tattoos gave her a largely dangerous air, she stood almost at the same height as Vistalzidar's steed which was amazing, because the steed alone was a magnificent and broad animal. She smiled slightly up at Vistalzidar, "So you are the Drow that my cousins have been whispering about, an honor I'm sure. I go by the name of Torala, I am lead warrioress of the Western Plains and forests." She held out a large arm in greeting toward Vistalzidar.
Suddenly two warriors thrust out of the bushes. "Askale ad osyw!" said one in Romanian who awfully had big fangs trying to bite the others neck, and had sharp claws. He also awfully looked like a Vampire, probably because he was one...(Lol) "Asuayly Saifly!" answered the other one in Romanian also. "Axithillil Hasya Aysai!" answered the other one. The one who wasn't a vampire suddenly cut off the other Vampires head. "A bastard, had to chase him for a week!" said the man who survived. He stode up and looked around to see thousands of Elves. "Im sorry to ergh... Interrupt your little... Speech but who are you?" asked the man as he walked up to Eirhall.
(OOC: To make up for not posting in a while, an extra long continuation courtesy of me...)
Veleanith, her vision flooded in darkness, slowly felt herself starting to come back to consciousness. ‘My hands…they’re so hot. Someone…he took me from the brook.’ Her subconscious knew who he was but she wasn’t even sure about herself. She unfurled a finger from a clenched fist, having to increase her effort for every finger released. Finishing up, she spread her fingers across the ground, laying her palms across the wooden floor, warm from the heat of a fire.
Cautiously, she opened up both eyes, finding herself looking up into the roof of a small cottage, she lying on her back. By the crackle of the flames, she knew a fireplace was close by. To her side she saw a door, a strange willow visible through a nearby window. It struck her as an oddity of a sort as it tickled her spine, it reading differently than the plant life around it. A chair was suddenly heard being pushed back in the room. Her glance quickened to the source.
It was a figure…a male. Handsome-ish, brown hair falling back, his attire casual, his ears, pointed. Holding back a groan, she turned her head aside, too tired to display her amusement and annoyance. ‘Another one,’ The recent event with Ambrosia fresh on her mind, she felt a sense of frustration. ‘Brown hair too…I take it someone up there would like to see me suffer emotionally as well…although, he does seem familiar.’
Turning back, she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. A realization came to her after a few minutes. ‘Was he not one of the travel companions of the stranger? The huntress? The Giant? I have not seen the former two for near two days now…wait, that is not good,’ She held a testy expression momentarily. She shook her head, bringing her focus back to the matter at hand. ‘Ah wells, whatever happens, happens. Hmm, might it have been the Giant then? Was he the one to carry me? The elf holds no trace of my blood on his clothing,’ She lightly scoffed. ‘Not like I could tell even if he were, my senses are near dead with this sudden ailment…with this poisoning…’
The elf who had been gazing ahead, his mind in his own little world, his thoughts masked by his expression, jumped up abruptly. The movement surprised Veleanith, himself as well. At noticing she was awake, he started to walk over to her, at the same time trying to say something.
“Stop,” Veleanith cut him off before her could even speak, her voice sharp, knife like. She recognized him, but she didn’t know him which made her highly defensive about the situation, especially considering she could barely lift a pinky, let alone stand and fight if need be. Raising an eyebrow, her eyes a suspicious hazel, she spoke weakly, but cold. “Elf…were you the one who stuck a finger in my mouth?”
A startled look crossed the young elf’s face. Vele merely blinked at his surprise that she knew. Whether asleep or unconscious, she had always been very attentive of her surroundings, important words, and actions catching her ear. She knew she was poisoned, one of the two was going to try and kiss her, the rest muffled by her coughs.
Impatience getting the best of her at his lack of answer, her eyes turned devilish. “It was not you. It would not have been a wise decision on your part,” Despite her lack of strength, a broad fang revealing smile spread across her lips. “I have always had a taste for Elvish blood and you would be no exception…”
Whether she was serious or teasing wasn’t certain but before he could find out, Vele lost her good humor, her lungs starting to burn. She turned her head to the side, placing her hands over her mouth in an attempt to stop the coming cough. A loud hacking noise came from her throat, thick warm tainted crimson seeping through her fingers, her life slipping through her hands.
Turning onto her knees, she got into a crawl position in an attempt to get most of the poison from her system, stopping only when she felt a hand start to rub her back. Sucking in her cheeks, she swished her tongue around her mouth quickly, spitting excess blood and saliva into the fire. She shook the hand from her, everything in the cozy room the exact opposite, a menace to her delusional eye. Escape was on her mind, the warmth, suffocating, the room closing in on her.
Getting up on shaky feet, she struggled to keep her balance. Vertigo was instantaneous, the floor dancing, the room twirling before her. Concentrating hard, walking awkwardly, she stumbled to the door. However, upon reaching it, to her dismay, she couldn’t find the handle. Her face covered in exhaustion, she leaned her damp forehead to the door. Holding her arms back to the elf, she mumbled absentmindedly. “Take…take…”
Walking up to her, the elf, Istalindir, attempted to usher her back onto the ground. She shook away his efforts, finding her voice. “Take this damned thing off of me!” Veleanith breathed heavily, her request more of a demand, her voice, no longer weak, but a cry. Motioning to her cloak, she started to shake it off half-heartedly whereas Istalindir removed it from her shoulders. She relaxed ever so slightly from the heavy burden taken off her shoulders. Lifting a hand, she placed her palm to the door, clinging onto the wooden frame. “I need air…I can’t breathe…I…” she closed her eyes, the sunlight hurting her eyes...
*continued...hmm, not as long as I thought...
“Water…please just let me fetch myself water.” She opened a pleading eye to Istalindir who had pulled open the window wide, a crisp breeze blowing through the room. He cautiously placed a hand over her shoulder once done. Too weak to struggle, she let him walk her back down onto the ground. Veleanith hated being helped, it made her feel inferior, but she found there was little she could do to keep him from propping her up against the wall and sprawling her cloak across her bare legs.
“The effort seems too much for you to talk nonetheless walk to the brook. I shall fetch you some water.” Istalindir looked her up and down, making sure she seemed okay before leaving the room.
Watching him leave, Veleanith raised her eyebrow, an evil expression in her eyes. As the door shut, she felt her eyelids start to flutter rapidly. She just wanted to sleep, she wasn’t sure for how long, but it was the only thought on her mind as she fell down sideways onto the ground. Once her head landed, a strand of green hair stained with blood crossed her vision. “I believe I may be dying and just yet may I see my brother. No…I have to hold out for life, I must at least avenge him or die trying, not by, not like…this.” She could find no more breath to speak, closing her eyes as she fell unconscious.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A sharp scent was in the air. She could barely breathe, barely open her eyes but Veleanith could detect the smallest trace of food cooking. She tried to think what it could be but her thoughts were black, lost as she feebly tried to find the word. Sizzling was heard and the smell became more distinct. Not having the strength to make a face, she grimaced in her mind at realizing what it was. ‘Fish…here I lay to die and fish by my side.’ Her thought didn’t make complete sense, but she wasn’t in her right mind at the time.
Someone pulled her into a sitting position, her back to the wall once more. Her lips were gently parted, her mouth pulled open and a small piece of something warm placed into her mouth. She held back a gag, forcing herself to chew despite her lack of appetite. If someone was feeding her, it had to be for a reason. The stranger massaged her throat, helping her swallow.
After a few minutes of going through this process, she found the strength to open her eyes. Vertigo didn’t have such a firm grip on her, her sight slowly returning to normal. She looked to who was feeding her, finding the elf carefully placing the fish into small parts. Licking a fang, she narrowed her eyes, taking the fish from the elf. “I can feed myself.” She muttered, unusually acidic. Veleanith was surprised herself at the venom that had filled her tone, she hadn’t meant to come off as such.
Istalindir said nothing, gaining a cool expression. Vele turned her attention to the meal, slightly embarrassed as she picked at the meal, leaving half for later. A knock to the door interrupted the icy silence between the two. The giant stood starting to say something, but what, the two didn’t know as he collapsed forward unconscious.
Veleanith jumped back in surprise. She quickly placed the plate holding the fish aside, crawling to help him, as did Istalindir. The two with a great effort pulled him up from the ground, only managing to place him in a slump against the wall. Vele placed a hand to his cheek, lowering her gentle hold to his neck. “He seems to be fatigued…” she observed. Glancing to the elf, she spoke humbly. “Do you know why he is so?”
Istalindir explained the situation, from the start of the day to the current time. Veleanith gained a strange look in her eyes, the gold returning into the hazel as she turned back to Njord. She brushed a strand of blonde hair behind his head, exhaling loudly as she stood up.
“I shall fetch him some water from the brook, I trust I will not be long,” Vele stopped in the doorway after picking up a jug, drumming her fingers along the frame. “Even though it does not look as if he has been poisoned, he also had been shot by a tainted arrow. Just in case, you can feed him the rest of the fish. I have never been one for too much food anyways,” Having left the room, she quickly had to step back inside to avoid a heavy branch of a willow. Her expression grew cross as she closed her eyes. “Is there something you may have forgotten to tell me about the oddity by the house?”
Istalindir, who had started to feed Njord, glanced to her absentmindedly. “Try flute.”
“Flute?” It came out as more of a question than a command, but it worked, the willow stopping its assault. She fled from the house quickly down to the brook, noting that she would have to check out the tree before she left. Once reaching the brook, she collapsed onto her knees, the effort a strain. Her energy hadn’t fully returned yet, her body concentrating on healing her wounds.
Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about all the blood she had lost. She wasn’t so lucky as to wait for it to recover; she would have to feed soon. “Or hold out for as long as humanly possible, then delving into lunacy, feeding on everyone around me until satisfied,” Plunging her face deep into the water to perk up her senses and clean her bloodied hair, she pulled her head back quickly, flipping back her wet hair onto the grass. “I shall figure out something, hopefully it will not come to such drastic measures.” She filled the jug up to the brim and made her way back to the cabin.
Not wanting to test her luck, she shouted flute out of the reach of the willow. It stopped before it started, Vele quickly running past and into the cottage. Istalindir had managed to give Njord the rest of the fish, nothing but bones left on the plate. Vele kneeled down in front of him, raising the jug to his lips and feeding him as best as she could. He gulped up the cool liquid greedily, falling onto Vele in a sort of slumber as he finished. Making a surprised face, she adjusted it so that his head was resting in her lap, a small smile playing across her lips.
Brushing his hair past his ear again, she gave a half smile. “He’s so familiar…too familiar,” She looked up to Istalindir confused. “I do not get it. I have not done anything of menace or goodwill towards him, and yet he went through all the trouble of saving my life, a vampiress assassin nonetheless.” She started to plait the corner of his hair back with a weak smile.
“He reminds me of my…someone who was very special to me. The one I’m fighting for now,” Vele let out a quivering breath before raising her head to Istalindir, her eyes glossy but a smile on her face. “Perhaps when he wakes you can ask him why he did thus for me. As for me…” she let out a yawn, the day’s events hitting her. “I think I shall rest here for the night…” drifting off, she fell backwards onto her cloak, falling asleep instantly…
((Hope you don't mind too terribly that I took a little control over your character Acrypt...))
About 4 hours afterward, Njord yawned, and his eyes flickered open. He looked around, then realized at length that his head was in someones lap. He quickly sat up, and shook his head, looking behind him to see Veleanith asleep. He sighed. Good, she had made it. He looked around the cabin to see Istalindir asleep as well. Njord stood, shaking his head again. He quickly cooked an extra fish, and ate it even quicker. Ravenous, he was. Njord went outside, picking up his spear and putting on his shirt and mail.
He dodged the branch of the willow, forgetting momentarily that it existed. He shouted the password, and then walked into the forest, going for a hunt. He quickly picked up on the tracks of a deer, and he followed the things path like a hound. Njord had been taught to track by his father, who was the village tracker and a master hunter, and excelled at it. It was one of his best abilities, helped by the fact that he could see the remnants of animal aurora, and he knew how to think like a animal.
Njord spotted his prey, a large stag, in a clearing ahead. He quickly hit the deck and approached through the brushes on his belly, moving slowly forward. The animal was about 10 yuards from him, and he hid in the brush, looking at his soon to be meal.
Then something startled the deer, not from Njord's direction, but the other. The deer looked away, at birds that were rising into the air from the south. Njord, who had long ago learned that animal senses were much better than humans', he stayed perfectly still, like the deer, looking where the disturbance occured. The stag pranced away, but Njord, curious, stayed in his place, still poised to attack.
A few minutes latter, he heard the galloping of many horses hooves. Njord stayed perfectly still, hidden in the brush, as, from the opposite side of the clearing, drow riders erupted from the forest, led by one very pompous looking one, who rode a magnificent steed. They rode right past Njord, dodging the bush he hid in. The horses rode by him for about 10 minutes, before the last straggler pasted him by. Njord watched them dissapear, and chuckled to himself. Then the sound of one last horse startled him, and he spun around to see another drow following his companions. This one was much younger than the others he had seen, and obviously was not good with horses.
The youngster saw Njord, and smiled triumphantly. Njord raised an eyebrow, and leaned on his spear, point down, looking as if he didnt have a care in the world if the youngster speared him. The youngster urged his horse on, pointing his spear at Njord. Njord waited quietly, then, aty the last second, brought his spear up, parrying the young one's charge with ease and bringing his spear back to knock the youngster off his horse backwards. The horse kept on going, glad of its freedom. Njord waited for the young one to get up, and let him draw his sword.
The young Drow charged him, sword raised, ready to strike. Njord moved to the side again at the last second, and knocked the drow down with the butt of his spear again. The young one quickly got back up again, obviously wondering why the giant hadnt finished him off yet. The youngster waited in a defensive position now, and Njord sighed. It he was going to be attacking, he wanted to use his swords. The threw away the spear, and drew one of his swords. He slowly moved forward, but quickly moved his sword, surprised when the youngster parried his blow with ease. A defensive one here. Good, Njord liked a challenge.
Njord slashed across the middle, the Drow easily blocking it. Njord withdrew his sword and lunged on the other side, and watched it parried and countered. Njord easily blocked the youngsters counter, countering it. So ensued a battle of counters, neither side winning. Njord eventually swung across the side, and the youngster was off balance, though he managed the block, Njord took advantage of this, keeping up a steady attack, never letting the young one regain his footing.
The Njord did something thatwasnt it the rulebook. He let his opponent counter, and blocked the blow, but kicked the sword out of his Drow freind's hand, then kicked the young drow down, poising his sword at the drow's neck. Njord removed his sword point, then retrieved the sword, throwing it high into a tree, then breaking the spear in two and breaking of the blade, driving it deep into a tree. He looked at the crestfallen youngster.
"Go home, young one, and tell your mother of all you've learned from the Celtica man. Dont pursue the buisness of war, its a bloody one, and not one fit for someone of your age. You'll easily be killed by your enemies."
Njord turned, begining to walk away, sheathing his sword and picking up his spear as he went.
"But I want to fight!"
Njord smirked and turned around.
"I'm sure you do, as did I at your age. But war is no blacksmiths job. its a grueling, bloody, fearful, and dangerous one. Go home, young one, be carefree and youthful. Dont choose my path."
Njord turned again, and tracked down his prey again. He threw his spear, peirced and killed the stag, swung it over his shoulder, and bringing it back to the cottage. He shouted "Flute" to the tree, and came inside, begining to carve and cook the deer meat, being sure to not spill the blood, and catching the excess in a cup for the vampire.