Disclaimer: I only have the right to claim part of the spotlight; the rest goes to Hedi, Renell, and Shelbyziod.
Pabla Aquarius stood silhouetted against a background exploding in color. She had always believed that dawn was the time when every color in the universe battled for supremacy. It was beautiful, it was majestic; all in all it was everything that Pabla was not. So as a cool northeasterly breeze caught her hair and blew it into disarray the young woman frowned as she put on her favorite cloak. The green and silver coloring helped to hide the plain white shirt and pinstriped breeches. As the full lips were pulled downward Pabla's face changed, it was as if in that one simple movement of her facial expression she had become a different person. Yes it was as if all at once she had been changed into a older and wiser version of the valley girl she saw every day in the mirror, she was transformed into a woman on a mission.
And yet she couldn't help but doubt her capability of carrying out the mission she was planning. After all how could a simple peasant hope to take the throne out from under the most powerful king Acifis had ever seen? "I at least have to try, I owe papa and the others that much at least." But her whisper was lost as the forest around her burst into song, it seemed as though the local birds had awoken and wished for the rest of the world to do the same.
Her gaze turning thoughtful Pabla stared blankly at the mirror in her hand, it was an ornate little thing, trimmed in silver and resting on a white gold handle encrusted with sapphires. All in all it looked quite out of place in the calloused albeit feminine hand in now resided in. A wry smile lifting half of her mouth upwards the young woman regarded her appearance with contempt. Slightly curly brown hair danced in a windswept halo around her head, her eyes were a dancing blend of brown and gold framed by long luxuriant lashes, and finally to complete the picture a small slender nose and full slightly pouty lips.
"All in all I'm a very boring looking person." She stated to a rather bored looking companion. The black horse simply let out an irritated snort, and if she didn't know better she could have sworn she saw his eyes roll. "Well alright then you ungrateful beast that will be the last time I talk to you about such matters." Pabla's voice was considerably louder by that time and if a passerby happened to approach on the way to the nearby village she knew they would have dubbed her crazy.
Turning away from her horse at last the brown-haired young woman rested hazel eyes upon what appeared to be a village nestled in the shadow of a looming mountain. "We must be nearing the borderland." She mused aloud her slim body unconsciously moving to point in the direction her eyes had taken. "Oh Shanmon sometimes I wish you could respond." Pabla exclaimed wistfully. Shielding her eyes from the now radiant sun she nodded her head as if in confirmation, "Considering we are headed in the opposite direction of the palace I would assume this is the southernmost tip of Acifis."
Saddling the black Arabian in a smooth manor that could only be gained through continuous practice the young woman swung herself gracefully onto Shanmon's back her brown locks finally laying flat against her back once more. Grasping the reins in her left hand Pabla held a crudely drawn charcoal map in her right, studying it was like studying raccoon tracks after it had rained for two days. Finally determining that she was somewhere near the Henomen River the hazel-eyed teen pushed her satiny steed forward and into the hazy landscape beyond the fringe of trees her eyes gleaming, she loved to ride and it had been so since the day her father had given her a horse.
Thoughts of her father however sparked something within Pabla, a feeling she had allowed to rule her actions wince the day it had first taken root in her heart and soul. This elusive feeling was not a single emotion per say as it was several that twined together to form the ache in her chest she now harbored.
Yes the guilt, sadness, and pain stemmed from a single revelation. This revelation had been achieved when she had found out the truth about her 'prosperous kingdom', the 'paradise on earth'. It was all a lie, what paradise would allow the unfounded and insane slaughter of an entire race? The sky around her seemed to mirror her thoughts as the last visages of dawn took hold painting the sky a striking red-violet.
Why had the king decided to persecute the Druids? The answer to the question remained unknown, and she had the sneaking suspicious she would never find out. Her father had been a druid, and she would always regret allowing him to go on the mission that ended his life. Perhaps if she had been stronger, tried a little harder, or even listened to the feeling inside her heart telling her to make him stay home she would still have a father. Settling into Shanmon's smooth gait she allowed the long suppressed memory to bubble to the surface.
A cold November wind tore through the thin blanket and settled deep inside Pabla's bones as she stared up at the ceiling. She had heard rumors that a group of men from their caravan were going on a raid during the moonless night, but what had disturbed her was the fact that her father hadn't denied it.
Instead he had expected her to be proud of him, proud of a man who could only steal to provide for his family. Not that she was much of a family but she still didn't believe it was the right course of action to take. However, the thing that caused her to be awake in the early hours of the morning was not a matter of the conscious but a matter of what exactly they were robbing.
The men were planning on attacking a royal procession, and not just any royal procession but the Kings's coronation itself. Her troubled eyes were suddenly flooded with light as the battered wooden door leading to her room creaked open to reveal a man dressed in pure black from head to toe.
"I thought I told you to get some sleep Pabla." He said quietly, as if he was still hoping she was asleep. "But father how can I rest when you are about to head out on the most ludicrous mission I have ever heard of!" Pabla exclaimed her chest heaving. "I thought you promised me that you wouldn't but yourself in danger any longer…" her voice trailed off as the sound of voices floated to her ears.
"I'm not going to be in any danger, the most the king can do is put us in prison for a few days." Taking a pause the brown haired man stroked a curly beard peppered with grey hairs before adding; "Besides he won't do anything too severe considering he would have just accented the throne." However, just as Pabla was about to comment a muffled exclamation of "Lorenzo!" could be heard through the thin cloth that separated the inside of the tent from the outside world. "Well I have to go sweet pea, but I promise we can talk more when I get home."
Urging her horse to go faster Pabla let out a sigh, she had failed to stop him and just as they had planned the group raided the king's coronary procession and made off with enough gold to get them through the long winter month ahead. However, what they hadn't known was that the now terrified and thoroughly embarrassed king would soon bring the weight of an entire empire down upon their heads. For as they were about to see terror, embarrassment, and power were a lethal combination, and so the caravan enjoyed a merry winter hopelessly unaware of the coming storm until it was too late. They had come during the spring celebration, the king's well trained assassins finishing off the men involved before they even noticed something was amiss.
"Pabla go help the other women with the cooking will you my dear?" said Lorenzo his blue eyes dancing merrily as he continued his rather animated fiddle playing. Pabla had sent him an irritated look but complied with his wishes, after all she was fourteen and nearly a woman.
And just as the afternoon melted into evening shadows they struck, they were as silent as wraiths but they left enough tragic destruction to revile an earth-shattering disaster.
"Papa?" Pabla had sobbed her tears blinding her, making it possible to hope that the man lying dead beside the fire wasn't really Lorenzo. Yet when she finally neared that ominously still figure she came to realization that it was indeed her father. The cold face was forever frozen in what appeared to be merriment infused with slight surprise. Perhaps he had felt a prick at the back of his neck, quite like an insect bite, before he exited the realm of the living. And as the night closed in the firelight played upon the girl's tearstained face turning dark, a face that had seen death. Around her she could see others, wives of the fellow victims their eyes too were dry. For every tear had been shed, every possible drop of liquid inside their bodies had escaped from their eyes. They were husks, ruminants of once cheerful beings.
Tucking a strand of auburn hair behind one perfectly rounded ear the young woman allowed a single tear to escape her eyes. Yes in one single moment, because of one simple act; because she couldn't keep her father from his mission she had been robbed of the only parent she had left. It was said that when a Fyglia produces a child with someone from another race they cease to exist. Apparently this statement had been true for Pabla's mother had disappeared only hours after her birth. And so she had been raised by the surly and often gruff Lorenzo.
Following his untimely death she had requested an audience with the king, and it was them that she had her revelation. That the king wasn't the fair, kind, and gentle ruler everyone made him out to be. Sure the kingdom was thriving but at the cost of a whole race. He had even gone so far as to decree that everyone had to get their own scroll proving that they were not druids in disguise. All in all she had found her 'noble' patriarch to be nothing more than an insane man with power and a throne.
Facing the village Pabla watched as the smoke began to rise from hunched chimneys and dispersed into the now perfectly blue sky. It was not very often that the sky was devoid of clouds in the kingdom of Acifis, "Must be an omen." She muttered nervously patting Shanmon's neck, "Though I'm not yet certain if it is good or bad." "I'm only sixteen and yet I'm already grumbling about divine intervention." She grumbled with a frown her eyes lighting on the crowded town square, "Perhaps I will find someone to help me on my mission down there." Clicking her tongue against her teeth in an effort to speed up Shanmon's already full out run the hazel-eyed woman smiled, it seemed as though the wind was freeing her soul. It was as if the biting March wind swept away her troubles and burdens leaving only a carefree individual behind.
However, as they neared the village entrance her smile froze. Only one thought crossed Pabla's jumbled mind as she brought her horse to an abrupt halt, soldiers. It seemed as though they were everywhere now; they had even reached the farthest corners of the kingdom.
"Will you please show us your identification scroll miss?" drawled one bored looking individual. Patting her hair down into a somewhat respectable image she smiled innocently, "I'm very sorry but I seem to have left it with my brother." Eyes frantically searching the area their hazel depths landed on a man approaching slowly to her rear. "He is right there" she said one long finger pointing out the man with the cart who had just managed to top the hill. Tapping her chin she added, "He will show you the scroll and explain everything." Smiling uncomfortably she diverted her gaze from his emerald eyes, and instead focused on the stunning three piece suit. Well the king's men always did know how to dress to impress.
It seemed as if he had deliberated long enough for the soldier simply rolled his eyes and waved her through. It took a moment for the truth to finally sink in but when it did she was exuberant, yes she was finally managed to find civilization once again, and so caramel eyes gleaming with victory Pabla tied her horse outside the local inn with a flourish.
The inn its self was nothing spectacular, after all once one had seen the marvelous capitol city a mere village was no comparison. So with her green and silver cloak billowing behind her Pabla strode into the dimly lit establishment without a backward glance, but such is the fate of someone who believes they have gotten away with something.
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The Scarlet Goose Inn was as full of smells as it was lacking in light. Patrons of every creed and race came swimming into view in the half-light, pointed limbs and dusky skins and smoldering eyes, all rolled into one pay-by-the-hour beast. The sweet smell of berries floated from the rear kitchen, carried on the tray of a lanky teenage boy looking terribly bored. A dwarf in the corner stunk up the tightly packed tables in his vicinity even as he crowed for another ale. Every so often a breath of fresh air came through the door, taking a new customer and a slice of daylight with it.
Seated at the most cramped table in the entire house, two humans - if that was not what they were, it was what they appeared to be - sat silently, avoiding each others eye. They chose to stare at the other people populating the inn, drinking in the foreign faces.
They were a girl and a man. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell that the girl was something special. She shone with an earthly beauty, gray eyes peering out of her ivory face, the delicate features framed by long, untamed chestnut hair crowned with a wildflower. A blush sat high on her cheeks, its color mirrored in her rosebud lips. Compared to the man beside her, she was a hag.
In his face, the beauty of the whole world lived in peace, looking out through eyes the color of the sea. It was painful to look at him for too long, as if your soul couldn't bear to be in the presence of such perfection. Had he stood, he would have towered above the other, rougher men in the tavern. He moved to push his plate away and the firelight glistened on his hair, pale blond and cascading to his collarbone.
The two creatures were magnificent, a scene from a master's painting placed into the dirty, squalling world. They appeared to be human, but any man's eyes could tell you no human could possibly look like that.
They had met on a hill, both appearing as though summoned by a greater force. Without a word passing between them, they had walked to the village in which they now sat, the girl leading the way, the man, fingers wound through hers, following, staring in wonder at the world around him. At the gate, they presented two scrolls of identification, presenting themselves as man and his wife. No questions were asked. The guards merely stared in wonder, barely glancing at the beautiful girl before them.
The door swung open yet again, dust visible in the beam of light cutting through the smoky gloom. A girl, looking about the same age as the man's companion appeared, strode into the inn, her cloak swirling around her ankles. The man leaned towards his partner, his lips on her jaw, and muttered, "The girl is against the same man We are. She came on a horse, past the Henomen. We should speak to her."
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The inn was the best place for this sort of mission. It made the best sense. There were other places to hold such things, but an inn was always best. Being the place people stopped at for various reasons, one could easily gain answers to their inquiries with no questions asked in return. Which obviously meant that this would make things easier for him.
Who is he, you ask? Well, he's only Ilry Abascus Ostrander! Don't know him? You should.
But enough of that. The real question is, why is he in the inn?
The dark interior of the building didn't help in hiding Ilry. It was dark, almost black, but Ilry's white and sky blue tunic dress made him stick out like a sore thumb. It was unnerving to say the least, but nothing the young man couldn't handle. He had been through worse situations before. On the other hand, however, he had never truly done something this important. There was no doubt in his mind that he could get through it and do it right, but there was that natural doubt.
A smirk only seen on the face of a mischievous troublemaker presented itself upon Ilry's lips. He chuckled softly, deep in his throat as he thought back to two days previously.
"Your Majesty? You summoned me?" Ilry bowed deeply to the man sitting upon a golden throne, his heart racing from anxiety.
"Yes, yes, Ilry. I have a mission I need you to full-fill for me." The older, beefier man said with a beaming white smile shining down at at Ilry, full of pride.
"Sir?" Ilry asked, straightening himself to a standing position, holding a bronze staff at his side.
"It is a mission only you can carry out, m'boy! You, being my best mage and right hand man! I need you to do this for me!" The king stood from his throne, descending the black marble steps beneath his overly decorated shoes. He placed his thick hands on Ilry's shoulders, gazing into Ilry's jade green eyes with his black beady ones. "I need assistance from your magic, m'boy. And seeing as you are the only man I can trust with magic, the only logic I see is for you to do it yourself."
"Sir, perhaps if you told me what it is you want me to do exactly, I would more fully understand what it is you are speaking of?" Ilry dropped his eyes to the side, avoiding any confrontation he may be arousing from the kind in front of him. Much to his surprise, the king merely laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
"You are truly amusing, Ilry!" Ilry could only gaze up at the man with furrowed brows. "I need you to travel to the southern most part of Acifis to gather any information about revolts, assassinations, robberies...any thing that may deal with me or the prosperity of my kingdom. Especially if has anything to do with Druids." A grim expression now dominated the king's features, a disturbing glimmer of white flashing through the man's eyes. "Especially Druids..." He whispered, turning away from Ilry.
"Sir, now that I have information on what it is you want me to do, I shall depart from your gracious presence and take my leave for the village of Lindum as soon as possible." Ilry bowed to the king once again, bringing the bronze staff up against his chest in deep respect and swiftly left the giant throne room.
Now Ilry stood amongst the crowd of the Scarlet Goose Inn, preparing himself for anything that will progress his mission.
With a deep sigh, Ilry closed his jade green eyes against the profound scene before him. ((Drunken men and women.. I think you have the gist)) His thin lips moved quickly, mumbling incomprehensible words. Opening his eyes again, what had previously been there was no longer. Everyone in the vicinity was relatively quiet, sitting or standing around respectfully, moving out of the way of the bartenders and wenches. With another smile, Ilry turned on his heels, his white traveling cloak flaring out behind him momentarily and billowing out as he ascended the stairs to the second floor of the inn.
Ilry searched the second floor diligently, finding almost every room occupied. Luckily, he found one that was empty for the moment and deposited his staff on the plush bed. He unfastened his cloak, taking it off in a flurry of cloth and then proceeded to unfasten the black sword on his waist. Holding the sheath in his hands, he stared down at the precious weapon. It meant a lot to him to have it and what more was that it happened to be a very special sword. Being able to wield amazing amounts of magic within itself, it could come in handy if Ilry ever found himself in a situation that might as well be against his advantage.
Dropping the sword beside his staff, Ilry ran a hand through his raven hair. "Some times I wish I wasn't His Majesty's first choice for this kind of stuff." Ilry then shrugged, fiddling with his boots to keep himself busy. "Not like I have a family to watch out for though. So I guess it wouldn't make a difference if he didn't favor me as much as he does." A stiff yawn made its way out from his lips as he remembered why he was here and what needed to be done. "This could take forever." he stated simply before snatching his staff from the bed.
Ilry hefted the staff in his hands, glaring down at it with a condescending look. Pursing his lips, he gripped it in the middle with a single hand, twirling the staff slowly with speed gradually gaining speed. "Často mi O bohů výše. U mé zaměstnance zpravodajských informací a světla." The staff lit up in an almost blinding golden light. Ilry waved it around before smacking it down upon the wooden floor and the began to draw what looked like intricate alchemy signs. "Udělit mi schopnost ohybem kouzla se mé vůli!" The entire room glowed in a gold light, chasing all shadows from the room.
Almost instantly, the floor within the alchemy-like circle seemed to fall away, giving way to the tavern below. Ilry, satisfied with the result, laid down beside the circle and gazed down through it and watched the people in the room, hearing and seeing everything as if he was right in the room himself. "This ought to help a great deal." He chuckled, but remained silent otherwise, listening in on all conversations taking place below him.
"Where are you from?"
"My name is Charlamagne Rothfuss!"
"My place or mine?"
Ilry rolled his eyes at the insanity. He waved a hand over the unknowing exposed crowd, silencing all of them with the exception of those who were or would be speaking about the king or the kingdom. "The girl is against the same man We are. She came on a horse, past the Henomen. We should speak to her."This little bit of information did not slip past Ilry. He strained to hear more, but the man remained silent after this. Still paying attention to anything that may be said further, he craned his neck to see who it was that the blond headed man was speaking of. There, standing at the door, was a young girl in a silver and green cloak. She gazed about the room in wonder and fascination. She also had a look of uncertainty though she knew what her purpose was. Curiosity brewed deep within Ilry's stomach as he realized he had just caught some magnificent information. But was Ilry to intrude upon them now? Or wait until he heard their plan? He liked the idea of waiting a bit longer.
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I am running through the woods, the smell of the pungent earth beneath my bare feet and its soft, spongy texture rising up to meet me and bounce me back from its surface as I glide through the trees.
Normally, this is wild fun to me, and it still is; but something feels off today. In fact, something has increasingly been feeling off for a while now. This is never a good sign.
The forest, being as old and ancient as the land itself, knows things. It does not think, but feels. It thrives with live, so much so that one feels eternally full and happy to be a part of it. I do not envy the humans one bit with their technology or their odd ways of doing things.
Even now, it is peaceful and quiet. Or it has been for the past couple of years. People are starting to be more thoughtful and less spiritual, they do not believe so much in people like me anymore. I do not mind. After all, I am not that old in terms of trees and forest life; I was just nearly born of the woods around the end of the time of earth-worshiping.
But now, without the humans worshiping us any longer, they have taken to their own doings. I have enjoyed many years of peace and quiet, and the occasional curious stare at the passerby or two. They do not see me scrutinizing them with my yellow eyes; and Terra hope they never do. Or else I will have to make them go mad. It is time people stopped believing; that is just the way things are.
I continue to run, my long legs and arms smoothly wisping through the trees like I am flying on the ground. I look to my side and see one of my oldest friends starting to catch up to me on my right.
She is black and beautiful, with the same color of eyes as I. She is sleek, and runs low to the ground, with a tail that whips back and forth and sharp fangs and claws that can tear you apart at will. She is dangerous and beautiful. I run with her often times in the night, my dark brown almost black skin making me seem like her sister; which I am. For all creatures of the forest are of the same kin.
When she leaves me to go back to sleep, I feel the same feeling seem to settle over the forest as I stop to bath in a nearby spring. I carefully run my fingers through my long, chocolatey-black tresses that go down my back. The forest is moving. Something is coming.
I decide, out of curiousity, to find out. I have tried ignoring this, feeling, but can no longer turn a blind eye. I speak with the trees, and my friend. I say goodbye as I decide to investigate and see just what is going on. Because I now know.......it is a great danger. A danger to the humans and the forest. I must stop it.
I come upon a human home on the outskirts of the woods. I realize I must speak their language and act like one of them, yet their tongues are so vulgar. "I am Lidiam Pantera, I live beyond the edges of the woods." I feel as if I am choking on the words. They do not feel right in my mouth, nor beautiful like the ancient language of the earth.
Their clothes, which a kind elder lady granted to me once seeing my earthen made ones, hung oddly on my frame and felt odd to move in; like they are restraining me.
"I am Lidiam....." I continue to whisper under my breath, looking around me, twisting circles as I walk. I bump into something hard and get a nasty jeer from a tall and gross looking man. He smelled something foul.
I look up past him after he walks away and try and make out their odd language carved into the very essence of one of my fallen friends. "Goose.....Inn" was written on the piece of tree. I walk through the door, frowning but not surprised at the lack of blessing that had been put on the tree as an offering of thanks for giving of itself.
It is time people stopped believing; that is just the way things are.
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Okay Time for some side notes:
1. This is in rp-form if you have not noticed yet.
2. Reviews are loved!!!