Don't you hate it when you can't think of anywhere to go with your story and come back to it months later and see you're no longer on peoples update-check list? No? What do you mean, shut up and get on with the story? Oh yeah? Well fine, maybe I will! Sorry for being out so long- thanks for waiting!
DISCLAIMER
The clearing ahead lay in pieces. Only select remains of wood remain untouched by what was once a fire. Bodies of their grown loved ones littered the blackened grass. A dark aura surrounded the area, as well as a large, glowing mass of ice that caressed itself in every corner of what was once their home village. The party was silent. No one moved. Soon, small sobs could be heard from where Joelle was standing; Phaynus dropped to his knees.
A mangled scream echoed through the forest as powerful, blue flames erupted from Azaleanne's fingers. The ice melted easily. Immediately, everyone split up to find bodies of their family. Azaleanne searched frantically around where her house once stood. She stopped short when she saw her mother, a beautiful elf with the long black hair that Azaleanne had inherited, on top of her late step-father, a dark elf-halfling mix with hair being a strange shade of grey. She stood staring at the pair, standing tall, glowering with her hands balled into fists. A cold, but quavering voice escaped her lips.
"Serves you right."
She blinked back tears. After sorting out everything in her mind, she realized the state her mother was in. The last time Azaleanne had seen her, she was pregnant with her soon-to-be younger sibling; one of which she loathed. Her stomach currently, however, was slim and slightly blackened. She searched the wasteland for anyone who might've been her sibling, but only saw familiar faces of the ones she once called "neighbors". This meant that her sibling, whoever he/she was, wasn't caught in the fire when it burnt their village. This could mean one of two things; They watched the village burn, or they were the one who burnt it. The hard truth hit her as she also realized that small ice shards began forming in the place where she had melted them; the ice was magic, and could regenerate. She found Joelle by the sound of her cries and said simply "The ice is growing back. Get in the forest." Repeating the message to Phaynus, kneeling by his younger brother, Phaynus shot her a look of hate, desperation, and sorrow. He took off a small charm he kept around his neck. It was in the shape of a sword; he once told Azaleanne that this was going to be his trademark, his symbol, his pride and recognition. He clamped the chain around his brothers neck, grabbing his brothers hand in return. He unraveled the boys fist, revealing a small collection of beads inside. Phaynus chuckled lightly at his brothers strange collections and strung the beads around a string of fabric that hung from his tunic. He snapped off the string and tied it around his wrist. "Sorry." He muttered. "A keepsake." They made their way out of the clearing and began walking on the small trails that intertwined their way throughout the forest. Joelle was still crying, and Phaynus had his arm over her in attempted comfort. Azaleanne led the way, the hood of her cloak covering her features and casting a dark shadow across her figure. They were all tired from their long journey, but no one spoke, and no one stopped. After trudging along the trails for hours, another clearing made itself apparent. A bright and cheerful town was swarming with smiling villagers carrying baskets of bread and herbs. No alleyways could be seen between the houses made of stone and wood. There were no castles nor over-towering buildings; everyone was equal. The rugged trio stumbled inside the village, earning a few timid smiles from those on the streets. They were able to find a tavern without too much trouble. Inside, drunken halflings danced upon the tables, as races of all kinds clapped them on from the chairs. Bards had come together to play tunes for the dancers and were playing their instruments merrily. The bartender was human, but had the muscle of a dwarf. He had a long mustache and closed his eyes as he listened to the tune of the bards. A small girl about the age of ten with dark brown hair was sitting on the counter, kicking her feet and swinging her braids gently with the music. Interrupting the bartender from their trance, Phaynus asked for three iced teas. Azaleanne leaned in and asked to change her order to a beer. He looked at her skeptically, her being only a few years older than his nephew, the young girl. He decided not to argue on such a cheerful day and brought them their drinks from the back. They sat down in the far right corner in a failed attempt to dampen the loud cheers of the men surrounding the middle table. The sat in silence and watched the crowd as they slowly began to drink. Their beverages.