Bound by Servitude-Silver Reflections

[Lucadia]

Birth Name: Anthriel Luthias
Alias: Vashtalla

Race: Silvanesti Elf
Sex: Male
Age: 117
Origin: Silvanost, Krynn
Former House: Gardener
Current Status: Unknown
Hair: long feathery strands, Ice white
Height: 5'9"
Color Eyes: Crimson with Silver Flecks
Color Skin:  light white pale
Speaks: Thieves Cant. Magi. Silvanesti (Elven). Common. Draconic. Sylvan. Abyssal.
Distinctive characteristics: Fingers broken at the knuckles multiple times.  Scaring of inside palms.

Trinity of Fate
_{Past  Present  Future}


"Lead me into everlasting darkness. Here, I will find you and bring you back."

[Lucadia]

192 hours ago..

Breath was pushed out through his lungs. He tried to heave to one side to get sick and gasp for air again. Only to find another prompt boot to his chest holding
him fast. Hazlani voice rumbled its foreign tongue at the elf. Only the tone of voice implied it to been a question. Before he could say a word, stunned from
the sudden predicament as he laid in a corn field, another swift kick to the ribs landed hard. Human hands reached down roughly, grabbing the satchel from his thing
fingers. Another man at the side, speaking, before grabbing the contents and dumping it upon the ground. One. Two. Three pouches of various spell components of a fledgling magi. His spellbook, then torn apart. This only seemed to make the two more furious, now spewing the barbaric tongue, nonsense to his ears. He cringed back, disgusted as his own show of cowardice. He wanted to be in control.

There was one more thing in the satchel that was left . The one of a tiny creature that made movement. Crimson eyes go wide as he sees the taller man clasps his hands around the cloth sachel, a cruel twisted smile former, enjoying the rising terror now evident from the silver haired elf.

"Ust, Ust! Aos!

A piercing screech from the bird inside, A raven making its last noise as it was promptly swung to the ground llike the ball on a flail until impact.
 This tiny creature, bound by servitude to its Master and linked in lifeforce. He felt the last moment. Flitter of the heart, drawing its last breath. Last
empathic thought "I had failed you Master."  Then the life extinguished. Elf tilted his head back, eyes rolling back, then faints with the passing.

The two drag the fair skinned elf back to the slave camps.

[Lucadia]

 Cold and pale light of the Barovian sun woke him from the void of Elven reverie. He felt the pain that trickled across his body
like the down pour of rain drops. Each pin prick of sensation laid bare dried and cracked wounds, the blood long coagulated in place.

Everything felt stiff, even the effort of breathing was difficult. One crimson eye opened slowly, slow thoughts forming at his
first visual. Rise of golden wheat several feet above him, distorting the light and shadows. The opening of this one eye though
had disturbed the creature that had long been waiting to see if he would move. A black bird that been perched above, waiting
for its meal to die, made a soft "Caw" before the rustle of wings carried it off. Several others nearby followed suit after the first.

He gritted his teeth at the effort he took to raise his head, to give himself an overview. Silver hair matted to his head from the sweat, dirt and blood. The garments he had upon him hardly covered anything. Barely strips of cloth, frayed ends and signs of recent tearing.

He labored to his feet, having to use pure leg strength to rise. He made the mistake of testing his hands upon the dirt at first, only to been greeted with the worse torment he had known in his memory.

That is, if he could recall what had happened for the past hundred and seventeen years.

"Dreams we had never meant to have, we reached to far, now who do we have to blame?"

[Lucadia]

Hunger and the weather drove the fragile frame, what was left of the broken shell to seek shelter against the winter storms. He avoided what appeared to be a large human settlement at first. Even  in this state of mind, keen intelligence worked in overdrive in survival first and not knowing what he may step into without observation bidded him to seek elsewhere first.  As a man that once knew the gods of his own home world but memory a blank to his own relationship to them, he could only assume the little hubble of a church, dedicated to some hope god, that he could start there. He sat in a corner, huddled for warmth. Turmoil in mind, body and soul left him beret of any strength left. Thus, when one falls so far, even a Silvanesti will ask for help.

The first being a female woman that did not seem like others. She came from a far away land, that of  Rokushima Taiyoo. This woman had a strange grace like that of a twisting flower in the wind, and a voice that carried a soothing, respectful tone. A face painted white as snow, lips that reminded him of Lunitaris' light. The smell seemed familiar as well, as if he once stood in a garden that grew the chi, basil and mint leaves.

She done what she could for the elf, this Ren-San. She was no healer of measurable skill, but neither one lacking knowledge. She wrapped what bindings she could for him. Gave a gift of partaking in a drink to relax. Entertained him in musical performance, one that nearly made him weep.

Then the most important it seemed, when they had to part ways. Much as a begger he was, he attempted charm until he faltered. He wanted to give her a name he was known by and could not. She done the honor of giving him his first. That is Tsukito. A translation of "moon man" she said.

"What was it like to watch him die? That knowing his last breath was to you and not E'li ?"

[Lucadia]

_{That moment when the silence betrays you. One ragged breath, they leap. Then you find yourself slamming the door on a snout.}

He had crept closer, a thundering in heart, wondering when they would notice his presence. He been traveling for weeks with one
named Tavrin, a warrior that choose to call them the Laguz. Beastmen that could take human form. He had no memory recall of these beasts in his own lands, as the curse did not lie upon such in Ansalon. Drawn, fascinated and so close to calling out. Take me! Take me instead!
Only because a voice whispered to his ears when he reveried bitter sweet memories of a place he did not know. He could not know when he waked. Only thing that remained was a trembling body that recalled all the pain and suffering.

"Every scrap of knowledge will be put forth. Reveal its secrets. Do this for me and Ill grant you what you seek."

[Lucadia]

We should die for the things we believe in -Prayer to the darkness, you that I have hidden my heart to.
   A whisper from a time forgotten  "From the might of the Dragon Queen, protect us, O E'li!"
But live our lives in the dark, self-deceiving - Dark Son of the Queen and the Fury of Sargonnas, I beseech you.
   Sweet voices from the Garden of Astarin "From  her claws and rage, from her fury, defend us!"
In the fall, all the world that we knew is a lie - My path is that of magic and secrets
   Angelic choir lifted voices in prayer : "From the sway of the Dragon Queen, protect us, O E'li!"
Shine a light till the dark sky is burning - Nuitari, I give myself to you, to use as you will
   Words that every Light elf knew "From her fire and sword, from her tenor, defend us!"
Dragons are growling and fate is turning - I will take the power for its own sake, unbound and unbridled. Respect I deserve
   And this is how an elf knew his place.  "As lives the land, so live the elves."
But our hearts and the words that we say are ice - In the shadows I have found comfort
   The day E'li Paladine should of came, when they chanted " We are their firstborn, their best beloved! Save us!"

Blood burned like fire. Days had gone by in the darkness, having finished Testing. He survived but with less of his wits. Less of himself.
Turmoil from inside roiled like a brewing storm beneath the skies. Gripping, shaken, ready to strike. Then he was taken once again by
-Their- Order. What better way to keep a servant under control then to assure he had no freedom in his choices.

[Lucadia]

_{A journal belonging to Argent Tsukito. It is thick for such, an inch or so. Filled with the finest paper he could find, bound in black leather.
Great care had been taken by an expert to scrawl runes across the cover, done in the dyes of white, red and black. A trinity once
again represented . The pages proceeding contain the thoughts of the present.}

[Silvanesti Script]
"This is just the beginning. A record of recollections. In the dire case that I forget who I am once again, then there is hope I will be able retain
what I was. Argent Tsukito. That is who I am now. A name meaning Silver moon man. Words from two different cultures. Do I feel like a Argent Tsukito? How am I to know? What I once known is gone. I should know my own feelings toward..anything and here I am pondering
what to make of it. Argent..I. I feel like a new born babe that been gifted sight. My senses are reeling of the intake of the myriad of new experiences.

I just wonder. Do I have the capacity for love? Hate? Mercy? Compassion? Envy? If I had all these before, then why does it feel like I want to push people until they are overcome in their own emotions to allow me to drink in it with them?"

"There is no use fighting Anthriel. What was yours, will be _mine_."

[Lucadia]

[Silvanesti Script]

I have found this place in the woods in my wanderings. Stood alone, in the dark. Alone and without thought to the present dangers. There is a soft wing and rustle of wings overhead, like that remind me if one of the griffons had passed overhead. Within a promise of a coming frost soon. Night birds called back and forth to each other, but other then that, silent. Here was a place to grieve a slow and dying death, much akin to ailing old age.

This is how I know I am not home. In the seat of my stomach, I can feel the roiling darkness and unease of this land. Its decay,
putrescent and long lingering afoul. It grips a tight fist of fear, cold waves and each one mounting to further despair. The blood and bone that E'li had granted us as spirits , to be his children, that joy no longer courses through me as I stand upon this soil.

Each ones of us elven kin is raised with a chant on our lips. Weather one of the Light elves wants to admit this to our poorer barbaric cousins that something is still shared in the blood with this mystical bond with the land. A chant that goes "As lives the land, so live the elves." _{_And I have to wonder, is this why all the other kin appear sullen and withdrawn? Or have they fallen?_}

A simple thing really, to acknowledge our blood and bone and earth we live and bleed for. Yet this is as profound to every kin, as here
was a prayer that told every elf what his place in the world was.

A small saying that goes as far as holding the Silvanesti structure. It is cold and hard of that of a steel chain, bound tightly. Each link upheld the law, tradition and strictures. Rigid and inflexible, generation after generation until the gods cast us down and shatter it to a thousand pieces.

I am no longer forged with this chain. Left without conformity and purpose. Lost and lonely. Sick as the land.

"In the greatest hour of need, King Loracs' faith in the Light gods had failed, dooming fair Silvanost to the Nightmare Kingdom of the world."

[Lucadia]

Heavy steps down a cavern tunnel from the plated boots, followed by the inaudible leather boots behind the other.  Silenced loomed after the brief conflict with blackened slimes in a wreath of flame. The second stops after scouting a bit further, then he shouts back to the other. "There! Two fallen. Is that..?"

The warrior rushed forth, having ignored the first, picking up a woman in his arms. He shook her gently, calling her name, pleading for her to wake up. The other taller figure watches onward, seeing the sudden change of the warrior that often rushed headlong into battle without abandon, now shaken with fear over a woman. "She will not wake, she needs help.."

Scrape of a heavy boot and steel armor, the other quickly riffles through the woman's things, and having produced a scroll and thrust it forth. "Can you read this? Can you? Now is not the time to tell me you cannot!"

Silver raven turned his head, red eyes gleaming in the low light, having remained silent to the question, then given a rebuttal "You cannot do this here. The lands are corrupted, she might turn."

Thundering crash to his ears, as the bulkier human rushed forward, grabbing a hold of the others collar, hoisting him up, no longer feet on the ground, grip getting tighter around his throat. "Do it!" There was something dangerous in the flash of his eyes, having been commanded, but he would do as bidded.

"I can, I can!" Just as that, soft silken tone without a hitch read from the scroll to allow the woman to breath the mortal world once again. The Warrior turned, having holding her up, a look of  one that said a platitude of thanks, unspoken.
--------------------------------
He is pulled to the side, upon the hill of the Ghakis foothold. Mists swirl about the feet, numbing cold and falling snow. The Warrior bows his head, huskier tone turning to a whisper. "We stole a soul from the Reaper today. He will always get what he is owed. He will need to be payed..
 "....Is it not that we are all living on borrowed time?"
Both return a grim expression " I owe you for what you done. I will give the Reaper what he is due. Just name one person. Any person you wish to be rid of and I will do it.
 "Fortunate that I have no enemies.."
   "But you will. When that time comes, just ask."
Crimson eyed Silver Raven turned his gaze to the darkness, only the silent reply of a singular nod and pull of his cloak tighter against him.

"Shalafi, I could almost pity your loss of memories, but I relish in living in your shadow, watching your actions bring you closer to redefining yourself."

[Witchinghour]

[Silvanesti Script]
"This is just the beginning. A record of recollections. In the dire case that I forget who I am once again, then there is hope I will be able retain
what I was. Argent Tsukito. That is who I am now. A name meaning Silver moon man. Words from two different cultures. Do I feel like a Argent Tsukito? How am I to know? What I once known is gone. I should know my own feelings toward..anything and here I am pondering
what to make of it. Argent..I. I feel like a new born babe that been gifted sight. My senses are reeling of the intake of the myriad of new experiences.

I just wonder. Do I have the capacity for love? Hate? Mercy? Compassion? Envy? If I had all these before, then why does it feel like I want to push people until they are overcome in their own emotions to allow me to drink in it with them?"

It has been many years since the first pages of this journal had been touched. Cyna quietly peeking as Argent had fallen asleep. Ever so curious has she been. The first passage she read brought a sad smile to her face. Taking a piece of vine charcoal from nearby and by the dim, suffocating light of the nightly candle across their room, Cyna wrote in the margins and free space of the paper. With hopeful intent that the Silvanesti would find it one day. It was not a beautiful flowing script nor chicken scratch. Just simple lettering. Just as the previous passage was in Silvanesti script, this one too, was. Although a few words were interchanged for that of Toril's elven script.

You only had to relearn, you've always had the capacity for everything you set your mind to. If you ever forget, I am always here to hold the string to your kite.

Continuing on the pages, Cyna jotted down next to a lone line

[Silvanesti Script]
I am no longer forged with this chain. Left without conformity and purpose. Lost and lonely. Sick as the land.

All cycles must pass. The winter may seem cold, but spring sprouts beneath the melting snow.