~Shadowfyre moves through the forest quietly. No light filters through the
dense canopy that the trees form, so she casts not even a shadow at her
passing. Just under eight seasons have passed since that day in the
dungeon, yet it still plays in her mind, keeping her hatred alive. As does
her hatred for Nezzka. Her desire to spill his blood and watch the light
of life slip from his eyes grows with each passing day, but she knows she
must wait. Right now, she has a mission.~
~Her eyes see the glow of the campfire even before her other senses tell her that the camp is near. With silent tread she slips closer, and counts the men sitting around the fire. Two men and a woman, though she's snorts softly at the thought of them being called men. These creatures, halflings by rightful name, are barely human, and deserve no better than servitude, if not death by her hand.~
~As one of the men stands a stretches, Shadow slips behind a nearby tree, and unsheaths her dagger, smelling the mead that they've obviously been partaking of. She knows that soon they'll need to relieve themselves, so she drops down to the balls of her feet, and waits. She doesn't have to wait long.~
~The woman is the first to head off to find a spot. She ducks behind some bushes as Shadow follows. Without a sound she covers the woman's mouth and slides her dagger across the peck's throat. She smiles as the woman struggles for a moment, than slumps against her in death. With a snarl, Shadow drops the corpse to the ground, quick to be rid of the foul thing, and heads back to the camp.~
~The two men are now quietly talking, absorbed with themselves and the mead they still have left. Shadow again drops down to a crouch and waits. Quite a while passes before one of the men mentions the female's absence, and they both rise to look for her. Shadow growls quietly as she watches them pick up their weapons and deftly move in the direction of the corpse. She knows she'll have to fight both of them at once, but still is unconcerned. She'll rid the forest of these foul creatures that do not belong. Quietly she follows.~
~As the men round the bushes and find the corpse Shadow moves swiftly and slashes a killing blow at the one closest. She snarls in fury as the other man spins and blocks her blow, her sword only glancing off the intended victim. Both men turn to face her, their faces set with an emotion she knows well. Hatred.~
~The two men stand together, side by side, watching Shadow as she moves quietly back and forth. Shadow sizes the two men up, and decides how best to attack. She moves slowly to the right, sword ready as the peck to the left rushes forward. With a speed that draws a gasp from both the men, Shadow shifts to the left and counters the attack. The second peck moves in and glances a blow off sword as well. Shadow steps back, smiling.~
~The three circle each other slowly, each trying to establish the best route to victory, each taking the measure of the others movements. As if with silent words, the two men charge at Shadow together. Shadow dodges and parries the attacks, maintaining her footing when they try to throw her off balance. The three are locked in combat, and Shadow feels the occasional bite of the pecks' blades. This only fuels her hatred and desire to rid the forest of them.~
~Shadow can sense more than see the sun set, and begins to feel the first pangs of hunger. As she swings her blade deftly, she thinks on when the last time she ate was. A couple days ago or more if she remembers correctly. As her hunger grows, she decides she's played with her prey enough, and, stepping around the two, she separates them and, dropping down low, unsheathes her dagger, driving it into first ones heart, than slides her sword through the belly of the other.~
~She draws both blades out, being careful to wipe all traces of the blood from the blades, lest they rust and tarnish, and begins head back towards the fire when she sense the other one nearby. She stops and quietly turns in the direction she feels the eyes coming from and stares into the darkness, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.~
"Show yourself" she calls to the figure hiding in the shadows. "Show yourself, or I shall come slay you as well."
~The figure moves slowly into the fire's light, and Shadow notes quickly that it is another Teir'Dal, male, about her age it seems. He moves with a deftness that seems to come from his size, which is as slight as her own. In his hand, he carries a book, and she can see no sword hanging from his belt.~
"Who are you?"
"My name is Akronn" he says, as he moves closer to the fire His voice was soft, yet rich beyond his years.
"What do you want?"
"I was traveling back to the city when I heard the sounds of fighting. I came closer to see if my services were needed, my dark sister. I am a cleric of our Father."
~Shadow chuckles softly and waves her hand towards the bodies.~
"As you can see, my dark brother, they have no need of them, and I will mend as well, for they are only flesh wounds."
"Still, I shall do what little I can to aid your healing, sister. 'Tis what I was trained to do."
~The cleric stepped closer to Shadow and than she notices the features of his face. His eyes, the same shade as her own, his cheeks cut at the same angle, his nose having the same tilt up at the end, and his mouth with the same off balance as her own. For a moment she studies him closer, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.~
"What did you say your name one, precious?"
"Akronn."
"No surname?"
"Nay, I was an orphan, raised in the house of the clerics, where I learned and trained. I know not who my father was."
~As he speaks, the cleric rummages through his bags and pulls out some bandages. As he begins to wrap them around the worst of the wounds, he chants under his breath. The wounds blaze hotly for a brief instant, than stop. As he moves on to the next, his hand brushes over Shadow's and both dark elves feel as though they've been struck by lightining. A gasp comes from the cleric's lips as he jerks his head up and looks into Shadow's face. Shadow meerly studies Akronn's eyes.~
"Do I know you?" ~he finally says.
"I doubt it. I was born of death and raised in hate. Though I know who my father was, I know him to be as dead as the pecks rotting behind me. Now if you'll excuse me, my brother."
~With that, Shadow rises, gathers what little she has, and moves away from the cleric, heading for the one man that can answer some newfound questions. Nezzka. And if he doesn't answer, she'll beat them from his lips.~
~Her eyes see the glow of the campfire even before her other senses tell her that the camp is near. With silent tread she slips closer, and counts the men sitting around the fire. Two men and a woman, though she's snorts softly at the thought of them being called men. These creatures, halflings by rightful name, are barely human, and deserve no better than servitude, if not death by her hand.~
~As one of the men stands a stretches, Shadow slips behind a nearby tree, and unsheaths her dagger, smelling the mead that they've obviously been partaking of. She knows that soon they'll need to relieve themselves, so she drops down to the balls of her feet, and waits. She doesn't have to wait long.~
~The woman is the first to head off to find a spot. She ducks behind some bushes as Shadow follows. Without a sound she covers the woman's mouth and slides her dagger across the peck's throat. She smiles as the woman struggles for a moment, than slumps against her in death. With a snarl, Shadow drops the corpse to the ground, quick to be rid of the foul thing, and heads back to the camp.~
~The two men are now quietly talking, absorbed with themselves and the mead they still have left. Shadow again drops down to a crouch and waits. Quite a while passes before one of the men mentions the female's absence, and they both rise to look for her. Shadow growls quietly as she watches them pick up their weapons and deftly move in the direction of the corpse. She knows she'll have to fight both of them at once, but still is unconcerned. She'll rid the forest of these foul creatures that do not belong. Quietly she follows.~
~As the men round the bushes and find the corpse Shadow moves swiftly and slashes a killing blow at the one closest. She snarls in fury as the other man spins and blocks her blow, her sword only glancing off the intended victim. Both men turn to face her, their faces set with an emotion she knows well. Hatred.~
~The two men stand together, side by side, watching Shadow as she moves quietly back and forth. Shadow sizes the two men up, and decides how best to attack. She moves slowly to the right, sword ready as the peck to the left rushes forward. With a speed that draws a gasp from both the men, Shadow shifts to the left and counters the attack. The second peck moves in and glances a blow off sword as well. Shadow steps back, smiling.~
~The three circle each other slowly, each trying to establish the best route to victory, each taking the measure of the others movements. As if with silent words, the two men charge at Shadow together. Shadow dodges and parries the attacks, maintaining her footing when they try to throw her off balance. The three are locked in combat, and Shadow feels the occasional bite of the pecks' blades. This only fuels her hatred and desire to rid the forest of them.~
~Shadow can sense more than see the sun set, and begins to feel the first pangs of hunger. As she swings her blade deftly, she thinks on when the last time she ate was. A couple days ago or more if she remembers correctly. As her hunger grows, she decides she's played with her prey enough, and, stepping around the two, she separates them and, dropping down low, unsheathes her dagger, driving it into first ones heart, than slides her sword through the belly of the other.~
~She draws both blades out, being careful to wipe all traces of the blood from the blades, lest they rust and tarnish, and begins head back towards the fire when she sense the other one nearby. She stops and quietly turns in the direction she feels the eyes coming from and stares into the darkness, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.~
"Show yourself" she calls to the figure hiding in the shadows. "Show yourself, or I shall come slay you as well."
~The figure moves slowly into the fire's light, and Shadow notes quickly that it is another Teir'Dal, male, about her age it seems. He moves with a deftness that seems to come from his size, which is as slight as her own. In his hand, he carries a book, and she can see no sword hanging from his belt.~
"Who are you?"
"My name is Akronn" he says, as he moves closer to the fire His voice was soft, yet rich beyond his years.
"What do you want?"
"I was traveling back to the city when I heard the sounds of fighting. I came closer to see if my services were needed, my dark sister. I am a cleric of our Father."
~Shadow chuckles softly and waves her hand towards the bodies.~
"As you can see, my dark brother, they have no need of them, and I will mend as well, for they are only flesh wounds."
"Still, I shall do what little I can to aid your healing, sister. 'Tis what I was trained to do."
~The cleric stepped closer to Shadow and than she notices the features of his face. His eyes, the same shade as her own, his cheeks cut at the same angle, his nose having the same tilt up at the end, and his mouth with the same off balance as her own. For a moment she studies him closer, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.~
"What did you say your name one, precious?"
"Akronn."
"No surname?"
"Nay, I was an orphan, raised in the house of the clerics, where I learned and trained. I know not who my father was."
~As he speaks, the cleric rummages through his bags and pulls out some bandages. As he begins to wrap them around the worst of the wounds, he chants under his breath. The wounds blaze hotly for a brief instant, than stop. As he moves on to the next, his hand brushes over Shadow's and both dark elves feel as though they've been struck by lightining. A gasp comes from the cleric's lips as he jerks his head up and looks into Shadow's face. Shadow meerly studies Akronn's eyes.~
"Do I know you?" ~he finally says.
"I doubt it. I was born of death and raised in hate. Though I know who my father was, I know him to be as dead as the pecks rotting behind me. Now if you'll excuse me, my brother."
~With that, Shadow rises, gathers what little she has, and moves away from the cleric, heading for the one man that can answer some newfound questions. Nezzka. And if he doesn't answer, she'll beat them from his lips.~