You have been taken by the Mists

Author Topic: Years of Twilight  (Read 393 times)


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Years of Twilight
« on: August 04, 2016, 02:33:31 AM »
"Three... Four... Five..." The she-elf let out a grunt and a count after every branch she cleared, swinging her way through the dense forest. Landing down at the count of twenty one, she straightened herself in the small clearing that was her destination. Tall for her kind, she was a slender, yet deceivingly muscular young Elf, barely into her sixties. Her black hair held the bluish hue that found itself boring into her creamy, pale skin, and at large in her eyes; deep blue orbs, flecked with gold, which were shaped in the angular, pleasing form that was common to the fair folk. Dark, earthy brown leathers wrapped around her body in a tight fit, along with the added padding of wolf furs.
The earth was littered with the needle leaves of the evergreens and the leaves of their dying cousins, with the dry crunch of her landing and every step reminding her that the short autumn season of the Northlands was coming to an end.
From her far right came a rustle, which led her hand to reflexively grasp at the hilt of her curved sword. Even if goblinkind did not venture this far into the Moonwood, lycanthropes and other beasts surely did, which put the lone, far from home elf immediately on the defensive.
Going into a crouch, she darted her way between the trees toward the source of the rustle, which only now began subsiding. Even from afar, she already managed to spot the small sliver of blood crawling down the stones from the disturbed shrubbery, a sight that only drove her on with renewed vigor.

She stopped short a fair few steps away when the head of one of her kin protruded through the brush, his visage immortalized in that expression of outrage at his final moments of life.

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She brought her horse to a trot as the sun disappeared behind the mountains of the Spine of the World, and the lights of the fairest city in all the North came into view just over the hill. From behind, her travelling companion, an older member of her family or close kin by tell of his appearance, had also slowed down his horse, trailing behind her as they went down and toward the road that would carry them over into the city's gates, although it was still half a day's ride away.
"Ever were you an impatient one, Ellifain." He said in their shared tongue, catching up to her with a knowing, crooked grin aimed and craned her way.
"And ever were you a slow one, Aesar." She retorted gruffly, though the cheer in her demure was obvious. Before he could supply his own, she asked, "Have you the passage writs?"
"Of course. And is that any way to speak to your father?"
"Only if he makes it as easy."
The two shared a laugh, and continued their trot for a mile more, before finding a small overhang to camp under for the night, on their way to Silverymoon.
« Last Edit: August 07, 2016, 02:37:58 AM by Dirgelike »