Disclaimer: I own nothing referring to Dragonlance or any other
corporations' works.
Chapter Seven: The Silvanesti Hunt
"Now remember the most important rule of them all, who or whatsoever enters these woods on thy day of hunt, shall fall victim to our arrow. In latent terms my fellow elven hunters, except for each other, hunt whatever your eyes can see." declared the proud leader of the Silvanesti.
Before the sun set amiss the horizon, the Silvanesti Forest was blood- soaked with deer, rabbits, and all sorts of animals. Normally in elven culture, especially the Silvanesti, life is never taken for granted. Killing is never an honest participation, but once every three years a Hunt can take place. The Hunt grants all able-bodied elven hunters to quench the forests of their homeland with a bloodbath instead of rainfall. This is the only time in which it is acceptable for an elf to take life.
A lone hunter, unsatisfied with the day's game, waits silently as a red cloaked stranger enters the woods. "Fool, if he is an enemy I should strike him down, nonetheless, by law on this day he shall die for entering the Hunt." Asylthas reassured himself. "He couldn't have been here, could he?" wondered the stranger. "I truly doubt..." the stranger abruptly stopped as an arrow whistled pass his right shoulder, slicing the already shredded robe.
Anger ignited in the stranger's fiery eyes. "You're a very lucky person, had I expected that arrow, it would have burned into nothingness before me. You're welcome to try that one again if you wish." With the nock of another arrow, Asylthas smiled, "Let's just see about that!" With elven grace the arrow was loose and whistling closer and closer to its prey. "Hmph..." the stranger snickered as the arrow stopped a good yard before him. As if stuck within a forge the arrow caught fire and incinerated into what the stranger had called 'nothingness'.
Furious with being proven a fool, the elf let loose the rest of his arrows, each stopping the same yard before the stranger. But like the first and the last they all incinerated upon contact with the mysterious barrier. "Here I thought you elven kind never miss your target," the stranger mocked. "Shut up!" Asylthas yelled, "What are you?" The stranger silently crept closer to the elf's hiding spot. "I am but a simple red robe mage."
"Then you must be Raistlin Majere, for no magic of this world could do what you have just done." Asylthas could see the maniacal smile on the mage's lips. "Sorry, can't say that I am, but I was wondering if Raistlin has passed through these woods lately?" Feeling a little bit more relaxed, Asylthas put down his bow and thought about the matters at hand. "Actually Majere came by nearly a day ago, he searched the chapel and once he found what he was looking for, he vanished. Had I known he had someone looking for him, I would have stalled for time. I'm truly sorry, why is it that you seek the archmagus?"
"He stole something from me, something precious." "What was it?" Asylthas questioned. Defiantly the mage answered, "My life."
'Life is grand and fragile, death nearly snatches the Chosen's kin.' Fifth of Seven, Chaos' Prophecy.
Chapter Seven: The Silvanesti Hunt
"Now remember the most important rule of them all, who or whatsoever enters these woods on thy day of hunt, shall fall victim to our arrow. In latent terms my fellow elven hunters, except for each other, hunt whatever your eyes can see." declared the proud leader of the Silvanesti.
Before the sun set amiss the horizon, the Silvanesti Forest was blood- soaked with deer, rabbits, and all sorts of animals. Normally in elven culture, especially the Silvanesti, life is never taken for granted. Killing is never an honest participation, but once every three years a Hunt can take place. The Hunt grants all able-bodied elven hunters to quench the forests of their homeland with a bloodbath instead of rainfall. This is the only time in which it is acceptable for an elf to take life.
A lone hunter, unsatisfied with the day's game, waits silently as a red cloaked stranger enters the woods. "Fool, if he is an enemy I should strike him down, nonetheless, by law on this day he shall die for entering the Hunt." Asylthas reassured himself. "He couldn't have been here, could he?" wondered the stranger. "I truly doubt..." the stranger abruptly stopped as an arrow whistled pass his right shoulder, slicing the already shredded robe.
Anger ignited in the stranger's fiery eyes. "You're a very lucky person, had I expected that arrow, it would have burned into nothingness before me. You're welcome to try that one again if you wish." With the nock of another arrow, Asylthas smiled, "Let's just see about that!" With elven grace the arrow was loose and whistling closer and closer to its prey. "Hmph..." the stranger snickered as the arrow stopped a good yard before him. As if stuck within a forge the arrow caught fire and incinerated into what the stranger had called 'nothingness'.
Furious with being proven a fool, the elf let loose the rest of his arrows, each stopping the same yard before the stranger. But like the first and the last they all incinerated upon contact with the mysterious barrier. "Here I thought you elven kind never miss your target," the stranger mocked. "Shut up!" Asylthas yelled, "What are you?" The stranger silently crept closer to the elf's hiding spot. "I am but a simple red robe mage."
"Then you must be Raistlin Majere, for no magic of this world could do what you have just done." Asylthas could see the maniacal smile on the mage's lips. "Sorry, can't say that I am, but I was wondering if Raistlin has passed through these woods lately?" Feeling a little bit more relaxed, Asylthas put down his bow and thought about the matters at hand. "Actually Majere came by nearly a day ago, he searched the chapel and once he found what he was looking for, he vanished. Had I known he had someone looking for him, I would have stalled for time. I'm truly sorry, why is it that you seek the archmagus?"
"He stole something from me, something precious." "What was it?" Asylthas questioned. Defiantly the mage answered, "My life."
'Life is grand and fragile, death nearly snatches the Chosen's kin.' Fifth of Seven, Chaos' Prophecy.