• Hail Guest!
    We're looking for Community Content Contribuitors to Stratics. If you would like to write articles, fan fiction, do guild or shard event recaps, it's simple. Find out how in this thread: Community Contributions
  • Greetings Guest, Having Login Issues? Check this thread!
  • Hail Guest!,
    Please take a moment to read this post reminding you all of the importance of Account Security.
  • Hail Guest!
    Please read the new announcement concerning the upcoming addition to Stratics. You can find the announcement Here!

Threads of Fate

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Softly padding around the chambers like a cat in a cage, Izznet pondered the events of the day. Centuries have come and gone, her skills with images and pictures were useful for a time, but as of late they seem to rest. That rest was uneasy and hollow, until riding by the balefire whatever it is. The standing memorial was beautiful and terrible, utterly without mercy. Perhaps that is its undeniable draw.

The fact that Aedon acted as guide was of little relevance, however, his deep connection to the fire imbued him with a dark blue glowing aura that left a tinge of electric energy buzzing all around him. “Discomfort” was the description used, though it barely covered the reality. The energy that radiated around the forest near the fire made Izznet’s teeth itch.

The longer they stood by the balefire, the more the energy rose through their bodies. The seeping serpentine blue tendrils that wrapped around all things, living and undead, seemed to laugh as it crept around objects like a vine. Its effects were gentle, with a penetrating power reducing idle thoughts to ash to be re-birthed in the form of wild dreams and visions.

The undead charger began to crumble under Izznet and was forced to be set aside. A supreme encounter with a Meer Eternal was the last time she had embraced such a formidable power surge. The Meer was devastating and left residual burning through her arms and shoulders. But the balefire, seemed more like a cool embrace on a hot day.

The inexplicable desire to share a secret, sacred place drove her action of opening a portal to a place she had not shown anyone in over a decade. Whispering the words to enter the ruins found Izznet and Aedon standing on hallowed grounds. Each were lost in their own thoughts and emotions, at least thoughts. Izznet had lost the “feeling” long ago.

Aedon, however, felt each cry as it echoed through the cavern. His energy changed from the dark blue of the balefire bond to a deep gray almost black – as if the life force was being drained by the mere presence of the raw destructive power that was laid before them. It was apparent they needed to leave, yet, like the balefire, the draw to stay was strong. ...
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Who knew that a crystal could produce such grand music? Virtue Bane, what a horrible name! Yet something extraordinary rose from those ashes, a crystal that produces a glorious tone when given the proper … encouragement.

A fire with a dusting of salt and a few fragrant herbs seem to be the formula necessary to create a magical, eerie song. Serenade of the full moons made shadows dance on the walls. Izznet remembered times long ago as her hands hovered around the crystal summoning its dark melody. The tune brought the images as clear as if she were dancing in the meadow.

Stepping from the shadow into the light of the moon, dew on the grass underfoot, she created a world quiet and full of elegance. As her hair wrapped around her aided by the night winds, her body flowed with the music playing beneath her feet. Each step brought her a moment of power.

The loss of a heart turned a simple dance into an exercise of utter futility. The voices were still alive, the images vivid, but they taunted her as she tried to reach and touch them. That was the one thing missing, the ability to feel.

A soft sigh released from her lips as she whispered into the sound her fondest desire.

“I wish to feel within my soul.”
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
The small room lay in a blanket of darkness broken only by a small shaft of moonlight which passed through the narrow window. Sitting on a chair in the corner Aedon gave thought to the many things which seemed to be going on around him. Within his chest, his heart pounded out a steady beat, and he struggled to master the sense of apprehension which crept into his mind.

He had spent the greater part of a week trying to bring some sense of home to the drafty stone structure which once again occupied the glade. He found no love within such walls, only solidity and a measure of protection.

Standing, he moved towards the tub at the opposite side of the room and began to fill it with warmed water. He watched the ripples form and swirl in an outward pattern with each earthenware pitcher of liquid he added. It had a mildly hypnotic effect on him, and he became unaware how long he stood watching.

Setting the pitcher aside, he removed his clothing, and lowered himself into the bath. His body quivered slightly as the water, which he had warmed thoroughly, rushed across his skin, feeling more than a bit cool to the touch. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

In his mind, it felt perhaps like what fire may feel when being quelled by a bucket of cool water. Closing his eyes, he laid his head against the back of the tub and allowed his thoughts to wander.

In many ways, the castle within Aegis was much like him. To the outside it seemed sullen and unfeeling – a rock on which waters break and yet seem to leave no mark. But, even as the building’s stone was being worn away by the passage of time and stormy weather, so too his façade was beginning to show far too many cracks. He had always found it easier to let others believe what they would of him. He found some comfort living on the outer fringes of society. After all, there is safety to be found living a life unheralded. Recent months had become harder on him; and, after many nights alone with his meals, he found himself once again longing for the close friendships he once enjoyed.

His dinners in Skara had continued as a nightly ritual. He often tried to convince himself that he did this to honor his memories of Beleg and Ahmaya. But, night after night, sitting in the corner of the tavern with his bowl of soup, did little to keep fresh in his mind the feelings of the nights shared, only the mechanics of the actions. And, though he hated to admit it, a part of him sighed with relief when Izznet called him over to sit with her.

He had been seeing much of the lady recently. She either showed up suddenly in Aegis; or, on a couple of occasions, he had come upon her speaking to others. At these times he always felt as though he were intruding, and would greet them pleasantly and then leave as quickly as he could. But when he found the lady standing near the pond in Aegis that night something changed.

They spoke mostly in small talk at first, the simple pleasantries one might exchange with a stranger or someone you might know simply in passing. He listened as she spoke of being able to see the ripples on the water of the pond. He appreciated her saying this as he believed far too many folks missed the most simple of wonders in their daily lives. The rising of the sun, the steady march of clouds across the sky, or ripples on water as the breeze gently kissed the surface.

Their talk in time turned to the balefire which till burned to the back of Aegis. A flame carried here long ago, from the fire which burned beneath Bedlam when Queen Silvara sat on her throne. It had been placed by Duchess Selora in caverns existing deep beneath the glade when she first came to Aegis.

The thought was to make Aegis her freehold, and Aedon had been bound to her as a personal dreamer. He could recall many long nights when she moved softly through his mind watching or sometimes manipulating his dreams in an effort to enhance the glamour which was an after effect of the dreams. But Aegis, or perhaps He, proved unsuitable to her needs, and the Freehold was moved just past the borders of Aegis, into what was once Everthorne. And thus, the Freehold of Dragon’s Icefall was born. And though the bond with the Duchess was broken, Aedon still felt a strong connection to the flame. When the Duchess returned to the dreaming, Aedon could feel the flame crying out to its firebrand. Knowing that a balefire cannot thrive left alone – and, fearing that it would utterly perish, Aedon spoke to James who then took up tending the flame.

As they spoke, Izznet seemed interested and he had offered to take her to the back and show her the spot where the balefire erupted into the world above.

As they approached the area, Aedon cold feel the warmth rushing to welcome him. Dismounting his horse, he walked closer to the font and held his hands out in front of him. He could feel waves of energy caress his body and enjoyed the dancing shards of light that raced up his arms and soon enveloped him. Within this light he felt welcome and wanted. And as a moth caught up in his euphoria, it was hard for him to turn his gaze from the flame and look over to where Izznet stood.

A change had come over her as well. It was clear to him that even though the nearness to the font caused her some measure of discomfort that some part of her felt a sudden rush as though one that has long been shut off from light and life were suddenly awakened. She stood silent for a moment on the edge of fleeing, away from or into the flame. She softly spoke of another spot and the word frostflame. But as he listened, the mount she sat upon vanished into the ground and He knew he had to get her away from the fire.

Moving closer to her he voiced his concern. Looking to him, Izznet asked simply, “Do you trust me?” He responded that he did, and she took out her book and opened a red gate. Without thought, without fear, Aedon stepped through.

He found himself standing on what appeared to be an altar or, perhaps, an abattoir. Leaning closer, she whispered that he should say a certain word. On doing so he was transported into a small room. In the upper section of a room there was a small dais upon which was a red throne. Rubble was strewn across the room, and all was covered with a thick layer of dust.

Standing there, he became keenly aware of voices calling out in agony. Flashes of death and destruction pulled at his thoughts, as his stomach lurched violently from an overpowering odor of brimstone. He could feel a steady drawing effect in his soul.

He became more than a bit uneasy-and started to feel sense of dread he had not known in some time. The mask he had long ago erected to cover his visage and shield him from the cold light of day began to crumble. He knew that if he did not get out of that room soon he would be revealed in a way he did not wish others to see. He looked to Izznet and she seemed to understand.

Opening another gate, she led him through and returned them to the coolness of the Aegis night. They said their farewells and Aedon made his way to the private area of the castle.

Opening his eyes, Aedon reached to the side of the tub and picked up a silver ewer standing close at hand. Lifting it high, he poured the now cold liquid over his head and moaned softly as it ran over his shoulders and down his chest and back. Years of scars long healed and hidden reveled in the cool touch of the liquid.

Pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, with both hands, he stood up and dried himself with a towel. He did not bother with clothing; there was no one about to see the marks he concealed behind the mask of a fool. Walking into his room he slipped between the cool sheets. Sleep for a change came fast; and, though his dreams were filled with wild visions and flights of fancy, he did not stir even once but slept till the first light of day.

Beleg would not approve of many of his actions and his company of lat; but his old friend was not here with him now, and was not enduring this exile he had chosen to impose upon himself.

His old friends were not around as he faced an ever changing world, and looked for ways that he could fit in – or, at the very least, survive.
 
Last edited:

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Taste of the Waters, for they are good. Their essence enlightens and informs. Your eyes will be open to see the world anew, taste of the Waters, for they are good.

Open your eyes and see the breeze. The dance, the march, the chaos of the wind will lead and drive to paths of new beginnings. See the breeze and know its name.

The leaves of the trees, the rocks of the earth speak a mighty secret to those who can hear. Listen with a full heart the story of the earth.

A mighty fire burns deep within, the destruction, the proving, the warmth and terrible light shines brightly without fear and without mercy. Feel the mighty fire.


“It was one simple act full of profound consequence. There was a foundation laid upon which a path cannot be ignored. The beauty of knowing comes with a price. Will it be worth the cost? In a word, yes.”

Izznet whispered to the crystal ball, knowing it would not answer. She could almost hear the mocking laughter as her gaze was desperate to see through the mist. Small bubbles within the glass twisted in their bonds. It taunted her insecurities and remained silent to allow her own thoughts to solidify the reality.

“Fine! You miserable hunk of rock. No use at all.” She said disgusted.

“Tis no good arguing with the inevitable.” The ball sputtered and fumed.

“What did you say?”

“A plague on thee if thou doth ask again.”

“You are cheeky!”

Waving the warnings of the crystal, Izznet began the ritual of cleansing waters.

Moving around the room to the silent song ringing in her head the steps came naturally. Leaving clothing scattered on the floor as she turned and twisted seeing the pale moonlight as if it were carpet at her feet. A glancing touch to the tub stirred the water charging it with warmth.

The trance was broken when the soft fold of leathery wings rustled a breeze. It had been ages since the Watcher had entered. Her silver etchings shone in the firelight. Her limp was almost healed, the time away in her mountain had been of benefit.

The Watcher folded her hands together and took a deep bow allowing wings to spread out like a train behind her. The Gargoyle was an absolutely magnificent creature. Since the touch of Balefire, Izznet could see her differently. Izznet stood before stepping into the warm water staring at her Gargoyle.

“Have I done something to displease?”

“Nay, friend, you have done nothing wrong. I can see the life force run through the veins in your wings. It is rather spectacular.”

“What color sees thou in me?”

“Your life? It is a blue, deep and terrible.”

“You hast touched something thou aughtn’t. What happened?”

“How could you Possibly know that?”

“If thou sees me as tis claimed, thine eyes art opened to other worldly things. Tis not as is meant for thee.”

“For me? What’s that suppose to mean?”

“My lady, thine heart, tis untried in matters of the pure life. Tis not a thing easy to return should it go awry. But as always, I am at your service.”

Another deep bow from the Gargoyle left Izznet standing in the middle of the tub stunned into silence. The Watcher released a sigh before turning to leap out the window spreading wings, taking to the air.

“Well, Izznet, she has a point.” She said to herself settling into the warm water.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
They say third time is the charm; well this was the third time in a week that Aedon had come to Skara for his evening meal and found Lady Iznett already sitting in the Shattered Skull Tavern. He stopped, looked at her, and chuckled a bit saying;

“We have to stop meeting like this, the Skaran’s are beginning to talk.”

Sitting down at the table with her they began to chat about little things at first. How their days were going, and what had brought them to the town of Rangers on this night. To this question Aedon replied;

“I came for a bowl of soup, and now I find I do not wish to have any.”

Izznet looked at him steadily saying; “Why is that, are you feeling ill?”

“No, I just think that I was doing it more because of an old habit and less due to my need to eat.”

He assured her that she had not caused him any duress in being there, and had nothing to do with his seeming sudden loss of appetite. And so, with the food issue settled they moved on to talk of what had transpired the night before.

She told him she was sorry for the liberties she had taken with him. Aedon was touched by the thought that she might have discomforted him, or made him ill at ease, bothered her. Smiling a bit, he assured her that friends help friends, and she had nothing to be sorry for.

She had just asked him about his dreams, and he was in the midst of his description of one particular dream when the door opened and Mylar entered. Aedon and Izznet stopped talking and greeted the Ranger in a friendly and careful manner. Mylar did not say much past the pleasantries, but went towards the bar and scanned the menu.

They had just gone back to discussing the dream when again the door opened and Gillian walked in with Thom close behind. Aedon stopped speaking and greeted them marking with appreciation her lovely blue cloak. They did not speak for too long as Gillian mentioned they were there to meet someone and motioned towards Mylar.

“Well then, I will not delay you; after all, Mylar can be a bit stabby.” Aedon said with a chuckle in his voice.

The couple moved on past their table and went to Mylar. After a few words Gillian suggested they sit in the far corner at a table.

It was at this time that Izznet asked Aedon if she might enter his mind. This is something he had allowed many times in the past with others. It was a matter of trust really, to allow another within one’s mind. Aedon had always been nervous about allowing anyone that close to his thoughts; But, after years of knowing the Drow woman – and owing to his connection to Avalon and hers to Izznet – Aedon had come to trust Izznet on a deep level. He allowed the connection and their conversation moved on to a more personal level.

They spoke of the balefire, and the room they had entered that night. The effects that the spots had on each of them were profoundly different and intense. He had hoped that her nearness to the Fae fire would cause no lasting scars. But it seemed that for her, the result was just the opposite.

She spoke of visions and feelings awakened in her that she had thought herself unable to experience; those things that most of us take for granted, like the color of the skies, the feel of grass beneath our feet, or the music carried aloft on a breeze in the forests at night.

The thought that anyone could not see such things, feel such emotions. The lack of a connection to the world and all that makes life worth living was sorrowful to him. He found himself saying; “If I can help you to feel and see such things, I would happily do so.”He sat there for a while caught up in the conversation and the exhilaration of the moment. He felt compelled to take her by the hand and lead her to places of fancy where he mind and body might dance free, if just for a while. It was only the stirring of movement at the other table which brought him back into the present.

Looking up from his conversation Aedon smiled and said good night to Thom and Gillian. There meeting was either a short one, or he had been long caught up in the intercourse between he and Izznet. Turning back to look at her he said that he had to be going, but that he hoped to speak to her again soon. She stood as well, and they walked out into the night together. He smiled and bowed, and with a touch of her slender fingers to a rune stone, she was gone.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
“Mirror, mirror, on the floor, who is the one you most adore? Show my image in its true form, only lie to be reborn. Shimmering glass cut through the veil to those unseen wrapped in evil’s dark embrace.

Tell me true, the light I see, is it there or just a dream? Speak true, dear Mirror, lest you be condemned to spend the ages buried deep within your tomb.”

A quiet pop and hiss of smoke filled the smooth surface of the obsidian floor mirror. Soft gray blue tendrils matching that of the balefire wove around reflected extremities obscuring their true form from sight. The dark void of a presence held the highlights of the light essence granting shape and form to the nothing of the image. Glowing crimson eyes shone as if emerging from a pit, their terrible thirst accented by a golden ring around the iris.

Muttering curses the dark figure moved away from the mirror allowing it to fade into its benign stoic silence. Like it or not, there was a deep altering of her consciousness. There had been an offer made, and would not easily be undone. But the sinister need of her base nature required immediate attention, before consequences became more openly unavoidable.

The more they spoke, the more difficult it was to resist. Soon she would no longer be able to, the offer had been laid and would be taken fully. So many things to know, learn and feel, she closed her eyes against the wickedness of consequence desperate to replace it with the pure honesty of intent.

With a cleansing sigh Izznet gathered a few of her sacred items and retreated to a ground she had made holy by rite of the Dark Maiden. The dance in the moonlight had given her peace when she felt none. It had also given her the stylus in which to etch her skin with the ancient runes and blessings. At times they felt like hollow promises, yet she remained faithful to the practice, if for no other reason than to keep the skill alive.

When she was finished her body held beautiful scrollwork designs up each arm, her legs and across her chest. They would eventually fade, but it would take quite a while. Until that time, she would enjoy their soft glow.

She had at one time marked her face showing her namesake within the House. Once the House fell, the mask was no longer relevant, and therefore not appropriate. The humans with whom she associated would not understand the significance, so she would hide the scrollwork where she would see them. Any observant enough to be looking may be able to see hints of their presence, but few would bother.

Laying naked on the grass gazing into the night sky, her mind drifted to entertain images. Walking alone through a forest ripe and full of life, the heady aroma of moist underbrush filled her mind. Her feet began to run and soon turned into flight. Reaching clouds she could feel each wisp of air brush kisses at her face.

Gazing down she suddenly felt the presence of another. She was sharing the image, maybe. There would be only one way to know.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
The night was cool and dark. The winds came in soft gusts out of the north and the feel upon his face was refreshing and somehow new. He had walked as far from the stone walls of Aegis as he could in attempt to feel the embrace of the forest and hear the sounds of life that welled up all around him. With him he brought only a pad and a pen to write with. Within his mind much was stirring. Some things light and gay and other things tinged with a darkness that left unchecked, could easily consume him utterly.

He stopped before a large yew tree, and for a moment admired the deep shadows which enveloped trunk and root. Within this he saw the measure of privacy he had sought, and walking closer, sat on the ground between two large spreading roots.

He looked long at the paper in his hand, pen at the ready waiting some muse to intervene and move his hand upon the page. He was not accustomed to having this much trouble capturing his thoughts, but the past week had brought many changes on him and the world around. He wanted to write, he needed to express himself in a way only possible through the written word. But all about him the forest sounds grew quiet, his sight dimmed and the moonlight reaching around the clouds weaved its magic on him.


I have done many things in my life that I have not been proud of. Through design or purpose I have inflicted great pain on those I hardly knew. I have known my share of women as well. One does not live the life time I have and not left some degree of heartache in their wake. For these things, I do not apologize. Life after all is a battle, and in war there are always causalities. But standing once again within the room Izznet took me to I felt as though I were being ripped apart. Flashes of the faces of those I have sent to their deaths or through my own actions caused their lives to end. Standing on the edge of fire and ice I could feel the pain of each scar which covered my back. And in many ways I welcomed the sensation.

I went to Skara again not to have a meal as in the past. This time I deliberately sought out lady Izznet. The past few meetings we had shared stories, feelings and in my case, the very essence of who and what I am. I have enjoyed her company, and she seems to take some pleasure in my nearness to her. I thought at first I was seeing her to in some minor way pay Avalon back for the help she gave me in the past. But in truth it was good to sit and talk with another who’s life runs deeper than the moment.

I found her sitting in the Shattered Skull and she invited me to join her. After a bit of small talk she said she had something to show me. She bid me sit awhile and went into the small room in the corner maintained for overnight guests of the tavern. On her return the first thing I noticed is that he skirt was a wee bit shorter than it had been. Reaching out her arms to me, she called my attention to the delicate, soft blue etchings which twisted their way up her arms.

Without thought, I reached out and traced my fingers lightly over the etchings. They were drawn with some care, and as I looked at them carefully I was reminded of summer in the glade, and winters in the past dancing without care around a roaring fire as the music of the breeze wafted steadily through silver leaves.

She then sat one of her legs up on the bench next to me and lifting her skirt slightly, showed me where the design continued around her legs. The beauty to be found in the graceful curve of the lines was mesmerizing to say the least.

“I did them as far as I could reach; she said.”

She then mentioned the room she had taken me before, and asked if I wished to go again. My first thought was to say no, but not being one to allow an empty ruin to defeat me, I told her I would like to go and look again to see what more I might learn there. Going back into the small room she quickly returned wearing a longer skirt, and opened the red gate.

At first I felt little other than a slight apprehension upon entering the small room. Looking at the red throne I asked her what its purpose had been, and she suggested I sit in it, and see what could be learned. Doing so may not have been the wisest thing I have ever done.

Immediately my mind raced, my pulse quickened and the room seemed to spin and breathe at the same time. I can recall vaguely a sense of being out of time, teetering o n the precipice of sanity and insanity I grouped about for some place to hold on in an effort to stop my descent. I am not sure of much of what happened next, I only recall a voice speaking softly to me, and arms wrapping tightly about me. There was warmth in the voice, and I readily relaxed into her arms, and held tightly to her as she lifted my hand to her lips and kissed my palm.

Much after that is in a fog to me. When next I could remember with clarity, I was standing near the Yew gate, with my shoes in my hand.

There is great beauty to be found in the simple lines we see every day. Under the loving care of the artist, the lines transform to tell stories in pictures both simple and elaborate. And if one picture can tell a thousand words, then the etchings on the Lady Izznet speaks volumes and tell stories of the pleasures most of us take for granted.


To dance within the light of the moon, in a garden fragrant with flowers of every sort -and care not who -coming on us in our reverie would think us fools. To dance is to live. It is the deep breath the soul takes, and the very essence of joy.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
The fresh etchings on her skin glowed with a warm tingle that grew more intense the closer they stepped to the alter. The onslaught of images and voices was almost overwhelming. For Izznet, the images rushed and fled from her glowing runes. For Aedon, the images swarmed him like buzzing angry bees. He was immediately inundated, and she saw every face he did.

Steering him towards the throne had initially been out of innocent curiosity. The fact he was folded into a time and place of great turmoil and devastation was regrettable. She was compelled to assist the only way she knew how.

The combination of balefire and proximity to the one who keeps the flame allowed her a unique perspective on the raging fray within his mind. Battle cries and the acrid smell of burning flesh and rotting corpses spoke heavily into her mind. Gazing into the veil she saw the destruction of battle, like so many she had witnessed and participated in before this one was messy.

His cry for a comrade squeaked weak from his lips as he tried to move. The image she saw was from the side. His friend held a smile full of life and joy, yet the back of him was a rotting malevolent creature intent on stealing the bits of his memories and twisting them to something all together unrecognizable. His torment was the goal. She was not about to allow such an action.

Stepping through the image of his warlord caused him deep shock and distress, but she had to continue. She helped him from the throne “stepping” over bodies and smoldering rocks.

“Come to me, Aedon. Follow my voice.”

His hoarse whispers and whimpering cries of distress forced an encounter she knew was inevitable. Perhaps in some degree bringing him back to this place was intentional. Catching him in her arms as he became overwhelmed by the voices and images, she held his head in her arms willing the battle to step away.

“Shh, dear friend, I have you,” she whispered across his ear.

Drawing his arm to her lips her true nature once again revealed itself. The runes on her arms and across her collarbones glowed with a sick blue green light forming a bubble around them. She took the images within herself, offering him the strength of her inability to feel. They gave her a power to move with strength through time and space.

Opening her eyes, she found they were at Yew moongate and he was opening sleepy eyes confused to what had transpired. Setting him on the ground she was relieved to see he was mostly unharmed, yet his countenance was ashen.

“Perhaps you would do well to travel barefoot a while. You require the fire to renew you.”

His response was a simple nod and a heavy thud on the ground in obedience to the suggestion. He seemed almost as if he had been drinking heavily. She knew that to allow him to see within her own mind would be giving him back the terror.

Her eyes faded back to their emerald green as she walked away from him. She knew he needed to find his own recovery and she would only be damaged if she remained within the reach of the balefire. He walked under his own strength allowing her to disappear into the magic circle of the portal.

“One more time, Izznet. One more time.” She muttered to herself.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
I am not sure why I followed her out the door of the Shattered Skull. I only knew that I wanted to follow, to be close to where she was. The company at the table was pleasant enough. Lady Aila as always fascinates me, and if it were not an imposition, I would love to get to know more about her. To explore on a deeper level the gift she has been blessed, or perhaps cursed with. But when Izznet entered the room all my senses heightened and I longed to be with her.

She sat at the table with Aila and me, and I will admit to taking a certain bit of delight in teasing her with some rather ripe cheese. She took the thing sitting in front of her as long as she could, and then picked it up and carried it outside. I made a joke to Aila about Izznet being repulsed by the cheese and was still laughing when the lady returned and sitting close to me ran her hand over my leg to remove any remnant of the odor from her skin.

The touch of her hand on my body, and the nearness of her caused a sudden wave of heat to course though me which culminated in a rather strong shudder. I am not sure if Izznet felt my reaction, but she removed her hand from my leg and smiled slightly.

We sat there lightly chatting for a few more minutes when she suddenly excused herself and stood up, moving unsteadily towards the door. When she had left the building I remarked to Aila that Izznet seemed to not be well, and begged her pardon. I then walked out the door, and followed Izznet around the buildings which lined the cobble stone streets of Skara.

Perhaps she was trying to evade me, or maybe she was leading me further from the eyes of others in the town. As she walked past the corner of the Community Center I called out asking if she were ill. She paused, allowing me to approach her.

“The fire calls to me.” She said.

I knew well that any nearness to the fount in Yew might cause further harm to the lady, but she insisted that she must go and look upon it again. Willingly I offered to accompany her.

We made our way from the gate and through Aegis to the ruins of Icefall where the balefire lives. As we approached the spot it became clear to me that though she was drawn ever closer to it, she was also being drained by the nearness of the flame. As she started to fall, I caught her and sat upon the ground holding her close.

I am not sure what I had really expected. I have known others of her kind before, but never have I been so close to them. Her head was leaning against my chest, and her hair smelled of night jasmine. She spoke in soft whispers of what she was feeling, but I was so enraptured by the nearness of her body to mine that I could not think clearly. I ran my hands though her hair allowing my fingers to brush against her skin. Sitting up a bit, she looked at me for a moment, and then moved closer pressing her lips to my neck. I found myself lost in a world of rapidly moving sights and sounds. A surge of fire seemed to race though my veins and I sought to pull her in closer to me. leaning back slightly, she ran her tongue slowly over my skin. Lifting her chin, I kissed her softly.

We stood together for a few moments still holding onto one another. The walk back to Aegis did not take us long, and I kept my eyes on her for any sign of ill effects left over from the fount. She stopped at the pond, and stepped in shoes and all allowing the coolness of the water to run over her feet. She stooped a bit, and cupping her hands, gathered water, tossing over her shoulder at me. She took my hand in hers and buried her lips deep into my palm biting softly at my skin. When she was settled in to rest, I went for a walk to gather my thoughts.

I am not sure what I was expecting, but I know full well what I went searching for. Perhaps Janissan and Aly were right when they said I had a death wish. In truth, many times I have gone out of my way to seek dangerous situations. to Push those of greater power to the point of lashing out at me. I have long tried to punish myself for things which I now know I had no control over. In death I sought to find relief or solace for the sins of the past, never thinking of the effect my death might have.

We are all important to someone. We will all be sorely missed when we vanish from the world on the appointed day. Even a being as vile as Penrose portrays himself to be has something about them which can be redeemed.

Through this new bond Izznet has shown me that much of the things I have long condemned myself for were not of my making. I am, after all what the maker designed me to be. I went to her looking for death and release, and found instead a part of me I kept locked away from the light. The dark parts seem to have receded or been perhaps drawn out. And for the first time in as long as I can recall, I do not hate Aedon Durreah.

I know this bond will be strong. I feel the need to follow her, to be with her. To allow her to explore and share all that I am and have been.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Thundering through Umbra full of dark intent, Izznet rode headlong into the brigand encampment. Her thirst and a new vision of life essence drove her to rain terror into their quiet camp. Bodies piled and then transformed into howling unclean creatures helping to add to the chaos.

Kneeling to grip a young female by the hair, the Drow studied the victim carefully before plunging into the task at hand.

“How is, my dear, that one such as I can be so moved and full of the heady intoxication of life, yet wish to cut it short? I see the life essence swarm around you as a mist over the waters. Your life is precious, and for that alone I demand it.”

“Quit playing with your food and get on with it.”

“Mind your manners, this is my feast.”

A flick of her hand the troublesome wisp vanished leaving the scene of the massacre. With a final whimpering moan the body of the woman collapsed limp and lifeless, almost lifeless. Waving her hand over the steaming corpse, Izznet summoned the darkness of the soul to emerge.

“Go, be true to your nature, foul creature. And when you are completed, you will die a thousand deaths.”

The odor of bloodshed was faint, but the rot of decay lay heavy on the ground. Izznet examined her handiwork, tilting her head mesmerized by the image from the ground. She could see the ground reach through the grasses welcoming each body to return to the foundation of its beginning.

Shaking off the heady feeling of a feast she summoned her dark charger and rode home. The image and feelings surrounded her in a cloud growing more like a blanket with each passing hour. Deep and terrible the draw to return to the balefire, but she knew it was time to face its presence.

She had not realized how much of a trance she was in until trying to sit at the table in the pub. The smelly cheese incident shook her like an earthquake proving she was preoccupied. Once that was removed, the mist returned with its beckoning song she was unable to ignore.

Rising from the table, muttering pardons, she staggered into the streets following the sweet aroma of balefire. Leaning against a building she barely heard the voice call to her.

“Did you need help? Do you want me to go with you?”

“I would rather you desire to come with me.”

“I would gladly go with you!”

Taking her arm he helped to steady her footsteps. Closer and closer they made their way to the Balefire outcrop. The draw was intense yet painful and the closer they got the harder it was for her to stand.

She got as close as she could muster before collapsing to her knees. Holding her arms out to embrace the fire’s terrible judgment, she felt all the souls she had stolen. The vortex of destruction hovered above her making the runes on her body glow a sick green – blue.

Kneeling in front of her, Aedon wrapped arms around her drawing her near to him. He whispered softly into her ear comforting mutterings trying to ease the surge of power swarming around them. She could barely hear his words through the maelstrom from the fire.

“This would complete the bond,” she whispered.

“I know.”

His simple statement gave her a gift that would quiet the storm and garner her power to harness. Her crimson eyes held a copper glow as she found her mark. Cupping her hand around his head, she pulled the force of his melancholy and the evil darkness that tormented his mind into herself. As the chains of his past fell away her runes burned with a fierce blaze rising from deep within her body.

Blessing him with a gentle kiss, hiding any evidence of her presence, she sat back to sort through the emotions and powers she had obtained. Her act was not entirely selfless; it had in fact been at the back of her mind since the first time she saw what held him.

The bond between Aedon and Izznet had been long and deep. They held a mutual respect for one another and to harm him was never her intent. When she saw the power that lay dormant in his mind, she knew their bond would be made deeper.

Clapping her hands together summoning a fireball, she took those pesky non essential demons and trapped them into her flame. She heard a nearby shrub, hopelessly dead, whisper to give it the essence she did not desire. Releasing the flame hurling it at the shrub, it erupted into flame consuming itself and all the destruction it contained.

As the fireball flew it dragged with it some of the essence she had acquired from Aedon. Her runes showed the path of escape and with it a release of the energy surrounding them. Circling their bodies like a hurricane the force of balefire wrapped them in the completed bond. They would be of one mind, one spirit, one essence until what time she would break it.

Utterly spent, she leaned into his chest. For the first time since that evening she was able to feel his presence. The strength of his arms around her, the soft warm breath on her neck, his hands in her hair made her understand things she had forgotten. The touch was deeply profound.

And then the kiss. Retracting fangs she allowed the heady passion envelope her whole being. His compassion, mercy and kindness flowed together in a moment of purity that surprised and thrilled. Folding into his embrace she wished for it not to end.

Resting her head on his shoulder she kissed her spot once more. Standing seemed more like floating as they made way back to the Knight’s Rest. She was far from a Knight, but the rest would be lovely.

The remainder of the night faded quietly into history as she sat straight in the chair. Lightly fluttering her eyes open, the first image to greet her was Aedon’s face. Her emerald green eyes held more of a soft muddy copper hue, still recovering from the balefire, as she studied him. A smile stretched across his face and his countenance held a renewed joy that ran deep in his veins.

“Were you here with me the whole time?” she whispered.

“No, lady, I took a bit of a walk for a while.”

“You are well?”

“I have not felt this way in a very long time. I forgot what peace in my mind sounded like. You have given me a gift.”

“I have taken my own gift from you. The evil which rested in your mind is now mine. I took it with intent to harness it. My motives were not entirely selfless. I knew what would happen when the bond was complete.”

“Aye, as did I. It seems a fair trade.”

“Fair? Perhaps. I have lived for more than a millennia, harnessing this demon is commonplace. The last one I held was quite spent, perhaps this one will be more useful. I have watched and studied how it tormented you. I desired it’s skill in manipulating thoughts and dreams. Until now, you were out of reach.

Yet, I must admit, I find your presence and company comforting. I trust this will remain a mutually beneficial bond.” She said reaching across the table to kiss his palm.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
To harness the power of an entity that toys with one’s imagination filling pure thoughts with terror is to take a force like wind and bottle it. Some would say it is impossible. Others rush headlong into areas of which they know nothing. Izznet steps boldly between the veil and summons it as if it were her personal pet lion.

The quiet hours after dusk when the world is sleeping Izznet sat in her garden to embrace the night. The new found powers harnessed by the balefire became a challenge she was eager to embrace. A darkness that had hovered over Aedon for centuries now belonged to her, and she was keen on bringing it to heel.

A natural empathy had made her a genuinely spectacular lover in her youth. She had used that power to seduce and garner information to cause the undoing of young men and women. Her ability was to make images and feelings so strong that her subject would bow willingly to her desires.

When it became clear usefulness was complete she would turn those same beautiful images into ravaging night terrors. In younger years she would watch with delight the torment caused by the images she manipulated. When her victim was left cowering in a corner she would approach with vicious hate and complete her desire releasing their soul to the nothingness between the veil of the living and dead.

“My lady Izznet, what are you doing here?”

The voice was familiar yet utterly unexpected. The wayward spirit of a young bride thrown away on her wedding night had roamed the ShadowMoore for quite some time. Penelope had found the old candle while walking along the beach. Elvira was a welcome addition to their misfit band of almost evil, not quite good residents.

“Elvira? What do you mean what am I doing here?”

“Lady, you are in the Veil.”

“I know I am. I came here intentionally. But you need to move away from me. I realize you are a spirit, but you can still be harmed.”

“Harmed? How can something with nothing be harmed?”

“Darling girl, you are a someone with something. You can most definitely be …”

“What’s … Izznet! Help me…” her voice faded into a folding darkness that loomed above them.

“You are indeed a vile creature.” She hissed at the darkness.

Round one goes to the entity.

Rushing down to the main floor, Izznet had to know if the candle was still in place. The candle was there, but its flame was gone. Releasing a low growl, she returned to her place in the garden and angrily bound the beast until she could sort out a way to extract the ghost.

“How in the name of all that is holy does one go about rescuing a damned ghost?”

She was angry with herself for allowing such a careless mistake. Until she could figure a plan, Elvira was lost in a void darker than the one she walked already. As long as her candle remained, there was a glimmer of a chance to bring her back.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Fragrant petals floating like little ships on the ocean filled the room with their essence through the steaming mist of the bath water. Every move she made caused tidal waves threatening to swallow the petals in the milky water. Sweet innocent jasmine petals dotted with the blood red roses threw their fragrance like extra baggage hoping not to capsize.

“Good evening, friend.” She said without looking.

She felt the presence when he entered the house. Knowing he would find her eventually she remained enjoying the hot bath. Savoring the quiet thrill he brought she relished the moments he stood watching her.

Deciding it was time to move she released a soft sigh before standing. Using her gifts of telekinesis a towel floated past him on its way to wrap its mistress. Stealing the towel he snapped it open and walked across the room in silence to fold her into the towel and his embrace. Stepping into his arms she rested on his chest before speaking.

“I have a lesson for you today.”

“What manner of lesson?”

“The runes are fading and I would like to remake them. What better way than to show you too?” she said lifting an arm to show the fading swirls.

“You want me to mark you?”

“Actually the stylus will do the marking. It will be your fingers and your mind that will act as conduit. So please, make them lovely.” She said with a teasing smile.

Padding across to the low table she retrieved a tray with a bottle and the long stylus seeds. She sat in the middle of the bed allowing the towel to drop across her lap. Once her wet hair was moved over her shoulder she picked up a stylus and dipped it into the bottle of bright blue ink. With the ink loaded she held her hand outstretched and allowed the pen to float.

Aedon stood dumbfounded watching the graceful dance of ink, pen and hand as elegant scrolls and designs began to emerge on her skin.

“Join me, Aedon.”

“I have no idea what to do.”

“I know, come sit behind me. You said someone should help do my back that volunteered your assistance. Yes?”

“Oh, I suppose I did,” he said gently climbing on the bed and settling behind her.

“Take a stylus in your hand. Hold it gently. You will feel it want to move, let it. They will allow you to hold them and guide them with your thoughts. In time you will merely need to think the image and they will accommodate you.”

He picked up a seed as instructed feeling its lack of heft. Closing his eyes he summoned images of quiet walks by the ocean and green meadows shimmering with dew. As the images formed in his mind the pen began to move making rune markings across her skin. They weren’t pictures, but words that formed. Ancient Gaelic wording he had forgotten he knew appeared on her skin as if it were parchment.

“Hey! I did it! Look at that, will ya.”

She chuckled at his success. With eyes closed she returned to her task of remarking runes along her arms while Aedon practiced across her back.

When they were done he was compelled to touch his handiwork. Without thinking he reached out running his fingers along her skin. It was cold to the touch but smooth as fine linen. The markings hummed with a static charge hugging his finger like the tongue of a kitten.

She smiled back at him as she moved from the bed to don a robe and put away the tray. When she returned she sat facing him gently caressing his face and neck. Without a word she untied his shirt and lifted it over his head. Touching scars from battles past she leaned in to kiss one located just below his collar bone. Her fragrance from the bath lingered drawing him into her touch.

“Tell me of this one,” she said as she gently sank fangs into his chest.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
The first shadows of night were beginning to steal slowly though the Glade of Aegis as Aedon walked along the path that led to the gate. The day had passed for him with little care and he even managed to get in quite a bit of reading. One of the pleasures of his past he had too often laid aside in recent years.

The path, an always familiar companion to him had taken on a different aspect in the last couple of days. He had become more keenly aware of all that lived and grew along the way. In the distance, he could hear the night songs of wolves as they called to and welcomed the darkened skies.

Passing through the gate, and into New Magincia, Aedon made his way along the shoreline towards Shadowmoor. He had been there many times in the past when Avalon was working at setting the place in order, and as recent as the night before visiting lady Izznet. Standing before the door of the marble building he hesitated a moment, and then reached out and took hold of the door handle. Any wards or locks that might be placed on the door released at his touch, and he entered and stood looking around the ground floor.

He paused for a moment and then headed to the private chamber above. At first the room seemed empty, but in the far corner he heard a splashing sound, and looked to the bath in the corner in time to watch the Lady’s head break the surface of the water. Her hair was completely soaked, and where it most times was seen arrayed around her face in perfect order, it now fell in unruly wet strands farming her face. Everything within him told him he should turn and wait for her on the main floor. But instead, she spoke softly as he approached her.

“Pardon the intrusion milady, but the way was open.” He said as he drew closer, and gazed down on her.

“You are always welcome within.”
She replied as she slowly stood, and summoned a towel from across the way.

Her dark skinned glistened beneath the thin layer of water which still clung to her flesh. He unashamedly allowed his eyes to travel over her body, enjoying, if for a brief time the beauty before him. He was keenly aware that she knew his gaze was fixed on her, and could feel a certain measure of satisfaction on her part. Looking to him she touched one of the etchings on her arm saying;

“The markings are fading, and you are here just in time. I have a lesson for you today.”

Smiling a slightly crooked smile he looked at her, tilted his head and replied; "Do you now? And what sort of lesson might that be?”

“The runes are fading,” she said, “And I thought what better time to show you how to do them.”

Aedon stood for a moment looking at her then replied; “You wish me to mark you? I have little artistic talent Lady, unless you desire a stick figure bunny upon your back.”

Smiling softly she said; “The stylus will do all the markings, your fingers, and mind will be the conduit. So make them lovely.”

Walking across the room, she picked up a silver try with a couple of engraving instruments and a vial of ink. Returning to her bed, she set the tray on a nearby table. Sitting upon the bed she picked up a stylus, dipped the nib into the ink and then allowed the instrument to float gracefully up and down her arm. As it moved across her skin, it created swirling runes in a soft blue hue upon her skin. The moonlight coming through the windows caused a shimmering effect and they marking glowed with light and music. Aedon stood transfixed watching as the stylus lightly moved up and down, adding another rune, or connection an old one to the new with flowing grace.

Looking up to where he stood Izznet reached out a long slender hand saying; “Come join me Aedon.”

“I do not know what to do.”
He replied slowly.

“I know,” she said “but come sit behind me. "You said someone should help do my back that volunteered so in essence you volunteered your assistance.”


“Oh, I suppose I did.” He said gently climbing on the bed and settling behind her.

“Now, take a stylus in your hand. Hold it gently. You will feel it want to move, let it. They will allow you to hold them and guide them with your thoughts. In time you will merely need to think the image and they will accommodate you.”

He picked up a seed as instructed feeling its lack of heft. Closing his eyes he summoned images of quiet walks by the ocean and green meadows shimmering with dew. As the images formed in his mind the pen began to move making rune markings across her skin. They weren’t pictures, but words that formed. Ancient Gaelic script appeared on her skin as if it were parchment. Stories drawn out in the same Ogham script he now used to communicate with James, and some symbols older than known time. When he was satisfied that the images were complete, he sat back a bit, looked over his handiwork and exclaimed.

“Well how do you like that?” he said “I did it, have a look see.”

Reaching into his mind, Izznet made the connection which allowed her to see things as he did. A sudden urge over took him and he reached out his hand, and allowed his fingers to trace lightly over the markings he had made. Her skin was smooth and cool beneath his touch. It reminded him of the feel of a rose petal at the first frost of winter. The feel of her skin mingled with the scent she wore from her bath was intoxicating to him. He looked towards her face, which was now turned towards him and smiled softly. She returned his gaze and then standing; she put the tray back on the stand, slipped into a robe then sat back down facing him.

Reaching up, she ran her fingers over his face, and then slid them down to his chest. Untying his shirt, she lifted it over his head and laid it aside. Ever so slowly she traced the lines of the many scars that years of turmoil and battle had etched into his skin. A far cry for the grace and beauty of her etchings, he was more a testament to turmoil and pain. Her fingers stopped their traveling over a large gash on the right side of his chest. And then slowly she traced the edges of the scar as though seeking to draw a full picture of the event.

“Tell me of how you got this one.” She said softly.

Without needing to think Aedon began to relay a tale from lifetimes ago. At first his voice was strong and steady. But as she leaned in and brushed her lips across the area his breathing quickened and his voice faltered a bit as she slowly sank her fangs into his chest. He held her close to him for a time and then stood slowly, and reaching for his shirt said.

“I should be going.”

She smiled and nodded as he turned and departed her room, and then walked out into the night.


It is always said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But far too often I have gone through life with my eyes closed fearing that another scar will be added to a body which has known more than its share of pain. The pains of the past, the dark cloud which has long surrounded my thoughts and dreams has for now given way to visions of beauty and grace. I will do what I can to hold on to the past and yet not allow it to mar my spirit. It is becoming harder to keep control of some aspects of being near the lady. I am after all but a man when all is said and done.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
“Are you puttering about again?”

“Well, yes. I am,” he said blushing fiercely.

She knew his puttering was to keep body and mind occupied while he tried to sort things of completely different matters. It was a running joke they shared. The blushing spoke of musings of a more personal nature, and she chuckled at his discomfort.

She did find it oddly humorous that she felt the strength of the bond as deeply as he. Perhaps part of the draw was their long standing friendship. They had nurtured a mutual respect over the years and the bond they shared seemed a natural progression of that.

The fact she found herself at the castle was disturbing, the simple fact was she had no recollection of walking there. Appearing at the door as he was opening it gave the whole scene a bit of wonderment. Did he hear her approach? Why should she be so surprised, he was felt long before he appeared also?

It was adorable how proud he was to show off his latest puttering. He acted as a child eager to show off a grand masterpiece. How could that be denied?

“These are private quarters.”

“With bars?”

“Well that way I can see anyone who tries to approach.”

“Cleaver. I do hope it won’t feel so much like a prison.”

“Well, I hope the rest of it makes it feel more like home,” he said with a blushing smile.

They had both had our fair share of jails and the thought of creating one to act as a home was comical and disturbing. The conversation moved along with grace and ease as he led the tour of the abode. A teasing smile crossed her lips as she noticed bits and pieces of ideas he had taken from the ShadowMoore.

“It is pleasing you enjoyed my space,” she said with a grin.

“Oh yes, I enjoyed it very much.”

He tried to hide the blush rushing to his face by changing the subject. Allowing it, they moved to the parlor to sit quietly and talk. There was a great deal of freedom in their discussions. He felt the need to share with her all that he was, and she graciously received it.

Untying his shirt for her he moved to reveal several places that had once been marred now clean and fresh. The scars she had used had been healed. She knew it was not completely by her doing, but was happy to know the benefits were mutual.

Idly reaching to an ugly gray gash across the middle of his chest, and speaking not a word he looked at her with pleading eyes. He knew the scar would be painful, but he was ready to address its memory. She offered to assist him, and he was willing to let her. It was time.

“This is the one from my death.”

Kneeling between his feet she leaned in wrapping her arms around his sides. Softly she nuzzled her face into his chest, feeling the wiry hair reach to greet her skin. Her lips played softly against the ragged edge before fangs found their mark.

The twinge of pain lost its focus as the image of battle transported them through time and space to the place of a great disturbance. The war cry from his trusted friend and chief broke the sky as the dark figure grinned an evil smile.

The outcome was seen already, death was to be the price. There was little room to prepare for the response of a holy warrior on a righteous quest for his king. The blade that sunk deep into Malac’s chest began to show signs of shattering light. Pure intent and the loyalty coursing through his veins had served to undermine the cruel hate of the attacker.

Thinking that he had taken the day, Donn the Dark taunted the king. A final thrust deep into his chest and the sinister deed was complete, but the consequence far outweighed the reward. In taking the life of Aedon, Donn the Dark was cast into the ethers to be eaten by the very darkness he claimed to wield.

Izznet clung to Aedon sobbing as she absorbed the visions. The anguish and guilt that had ruled his mind she shared. When the vision was completed she softly kissed away her presence. Lingering in his arms she considered all that she had seen.

“You are aware, none of the guilt is yours to carry. You dishonor those who followed you by stealing their bravery with guilt.”

“But they followed my command.”

“Of course they did. That is what a loyal soldier does. They knew to die at your side, defending your name would be an honorable death. To think anything less is to rob them of their victory.”

“We did not win that day.”

“Yet, you did. The Dark was swallowed up in the light of a pure, loyal heart. Aedon, you must release the guilt to find your peace.”

Cradling her head in his arms his only response was a soft moan. He knew she was right, but had never considered that perspective. So long he had held the shame of defeat, he barely knew how to live without it.

The quiet calm she brought was a masterful gift. It altered his perspective and gave him a heady new value to all he saw. What would he do were this all to vanish? He shook his head to clear that image. She was here, and he would enjoy and savor it.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
It was a chill night as Aedon stood on the porch of Connemara looking out into the valley. At a distance he could see a small white wolf making its way through shrubs and brush dusted with snow. It did not matter to him that he stood there unclothed, sipping slowly a cup of fresh tea. The valley after all was rather private, and if anyone had come their under stealth to spy on him, well they deserve to get an eyeful he thought.

He was a bit amused at the new feelings which had taken hold of him. He had long worked hard to hide the scars of his past from others, pushing down years of pain and loss. The result of this had given him the aspect of a scared rabbit looking for a place to cower. He had been okay in small company, and at times would become elated when talk turned to a more intellectual level and less about sword play and blood.

But as often happened, as the taverns filled with patrons, and talk turned back towards darker events, the rabbit was left with two choices. Retreat into the corner and accept his captivity, or look for his chance to break away into the freedom of the night. He always chose the latter.

Those things which all too often fired the hearts of men did not hold much sway over him. Though in the past he had known far more than his share of what men called valor or honor, he had always leaned more towards compassion. Though compassion all too of the where he was concerned leaned the other way.

But the night was cool, and the chill breeze brought new sensations to him as they danced and teased around his form. Reaching down, he touched the mark just below his chest. For as long as he could recall it had lay on him, and though many years had passed since it was inflicted, still pain radiated from it. At times the pain was so strong he would come close to doubling over. But this day he felt no pain, only the breeze and the touch of his hand upon the area.

He had thought it was forward of him to show the mark to her the night before. Though he knew if there was any part of him she wished to see she would do so. But with the fading of the scars where she had caressed and tasted him, he had some hope that he could find some relief from the agony. And so he showed her his biggest pain, the point in which his life long ago had ended, and spoke to her of how it came to be there.

Coming over, she knelt before him and laid a cool hand on his chest. As told of the final battle, of the loss of friends and those under his command and the final arcane strike she seemed to be able to feel and hear all that swirled on around him. The cries of men as they knew their lives had ended, the steady drums as the minions of Donn surged forward to the kill, and Malac’s last call out to his lord and friend.

Brushing her lips softly over the scars ridge, she readied herself to drink deeper of this bitter brew. As her fangs slipped beneath his skin he could see Donn looming dark above him and heard his vial laughter as he swung his weapon towards him issuing the blast deep into Aedon’s chest.

Darkness started to overtake him and he welcomed the release from a world he filled with strife. He could hear still the cries of his people around him but there was little left he could do. Standing on the edge of death Aedon prepared willingly to take that last plunge into nothing.

It was then that he heard his son calling to him, and as he opened his eyes, before him stood Sean and John. Beneath him Ahoun hummed and the runes along her sides glowed with the ferocity of new found fire. Helping him to stand John said;

“We are with you now sire. Let us stand and finish this.”

And then wrapping his arms around his falling lord - John shimmered, and vanished –And the Star of Connemara hung around his neck. As Donn moved in to claim his prize - intent on carrying back Aedon’s head or hand as a trophy of battle - Aedon suddenly rolled over and plunged Ahoun deep into the vile creature. The sword flamed within his hand and the agony of the kill surged though his body. But he thrust the blade deeper, and twisted it as he stared into the eyes of Donn the Dark.

Aedon knew Izznet saw all this unfold, he could feel her body shaking as she released him and kissed the spots where she had joined with him to seal off and remove any trace. She laid her head on his chest and he was a bit surprised at how she seemed to quiver. And though he felt a bit of regret at putting her though such a thing, and wished that he had held his pain and guilt from her –he felt a sudden renewal within his soul and a measure of peace he had long sought.

Finishing his tea and setting aside the cup, he yawned and stretched reaching his hands high above him then bringing them down, laying his palms flat against the cold stone. It felt good to do so without feeling the tearing pain within his chest.

His thoughts turned to Jan and Kylee so far away, and he wondered if he would be able to return to them one day and if he did, what his wife would have to say if she discovered his connection to Izznet. Would she be able to accept that her husband was more whole than he had been and free of many of the demons which long controlled his thoughts and actions. He understood that there would be a price to pay, and pain to overcome. But for now, the utter peace of mind he felt compelled him to seek out lady Izznet and find ways to maintain their bond.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
The first night alone in several days felt oddly serene. Images and forces of darkness swarmed her mind struggling to find its own order. Absorbing Aedon’s mysteries and secrets had given her a new power in which to tap, and with it came a profound understanding of her friend.

There were few domestic skills Izznet was taught when she was young; one of her personal favorites was that of playing the harpsichord. The keys moving tones at her command and the gentle melodies that escaped the wood instrument held a softness that helped to ease her own tumultuous spirit.

For centuries she had embraced her own evil resting deep within her soul. There was only one other time she had even thought to consider releasing it for the sake of redemption. Time marched to its own leisure and with it brought forth choices and consequence. Her choice was made, yet the consequence toyed with her mind like a vine twisting and choking out a tree.

As her fingers toured the keys with the grace and elegance of leaves fluttering in the wind the notes and songs formed pictures that swirled around in her mind. Some brought a smile, others furrowed her brow as she hammered at the intensity of their lullaby. She played for hours losing all concept of time.

“Izznet, my lady, I realize that you require very little sleep, but there are some of us here who kind of need it to function,” Penelope padded down rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Oh, do pardon. It seems I have lost time.”

“My dear Izznet, time was never something you paid much attention to. Why would now be any different?”

With a quirky smile and a wink Izznet finished her last song and let the keys rest, along with her house mate Penelope. Before turning to retire, again, Penelope walked over to Izznet and softly kissed her cheek.

“You know, he really has brought out a better part of yourself than what you are willing to show.”

“Pish posh, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Of course you do, and you know it to be true. Good … night, or morning, or whatever it is now.”

Penelope’s chuckles filled the room as she disappeared up to her sleeping quarters. The lingering merriment sat nicely in Izznet’s ears. There was only one flaw to the whole scene, the candle on the shelf that had lost its flame.

“Elvira, where are you?” she whispered into the predawn light.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
Aedon sat awake looking at the fire dancing merrily in the hearth. He thought it might be a good time to go to his rest, but today he had been feeling very exhilarated. He was getting more sleep than he had in some years now, and his dreams more than satisfied his wildest desires. He was keenly aware that he was not at all alone as he walked the shadowed paths of night’s landscape, but he found pleasure in knowing that someone walked close at hand.

He could feel her eyes ever on him, watchful and caring she looked to be sure that no harm would come to him. No secret whispered into the darkness of his chamber was kept secret to her. But she always stopped before entering that last room within his mind which he kept closed and private. He found her respect for his life to be a touching thing and reveled in her company. And he searched for ways in which he could please or help her, as she had him.

He had seen her dismay at the disappearance of Elvira. The darkened candle in the room was a source of pain and discomfort to her. In dreams, he could hear her calling out for the spirit, bidding her to come home.

As they sat talking the next day, Aedon gave her the name of three who he thought might be able to aid her.

A lady of Virtue

A Ranger of surpassing skills

And a seer whose sight might pierce the veil and providing an opening through which Elvira might be called home.

It was a fortunate happenstance that Aila happened to come into the Shattered Skull as they sat there. Aedon introduced the two formally, and Izznet told her of the problem she was having. They decided to meet in private within two days time and Aila would do what she could to help bring the spirit home.

Aedon did what he could not to intrude on their talk, and was keeping a close eye on Skylar who had come in with Aila. Something seemed to be vexing the young woman. She was speaking over much to herself and it seemed at time that as she looked to the wall beyond Aedon, she was seeing things or people not there.

Kaneye, who sat near her also, seemed to know that things were not quite right. She had often sat around tossing a ball for the bake kitsune to chase, but this night she seemed to not know at times she was holding the small toy. She would hold out her hand and allow the ball to just roll off and onto the floor.

After they had finished speaking, Aila looked over towards Skylar and offered to see the lass home. As they headed out the door Aedon advised Kaneye to keep a close watch on Skylar. He nodded once, and followed the two women out into the night.

Izznet appeared to be a bit hopeful that she had chosen the right one to help her find Elvira and Aedon, for his part was happy that he could return some of the kindness which had been shown him.

A single candle can burn brightly in the night. And when snuffed out, the utter darkness can seem all consuming and lead a person to feelings of hopelessness and despair. But light can be rekindled and hope renewed when we learn to take a chance and open ourselves to new people and possibilities.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Meeting Aedon at the tavern in Skara Brae fell into a routine that was enjoyed by both parties. It had been a long time since the Drow had found other’s company desirable. She actually went out of her way to be easy to find. The idea of someone looking for her for sake of her company, rather than to bring her violence, brought a smile to her lips.

Their quiet solitude shattered quickly with the appearance of the bake kitsune that worked at Aegis. The silly fox critter was amusing in its own right, and far too easy to tease. Licking her face, however, was a grave mistake. Had it not been for Aedon’s protest the pup would have become a meal.

At the entrance of two women the evening took an intriguing turn. One who joined them was one able to traverse the Veil between the waking and sleeping realms. Her assistance to find Elvira would be most valuable.

Meandering to the bank to shuffle funds in which to pay the medium, Izznet was accosted by a strange woman who claimed to know far too much. With little more explanation than “I know you need to find something” the encounter was too convenient to be legitimate.

There was something sinister in the stranger’s presence. It was deeply troubling, but it would be held quietly until otherwise specified. How could anyone know what was sought unless they were eavesdropping on the conversation? Spies were by far a most irritating element of society.

Troubling thoughts were remarkably easy to ignore in his presence. The simple act of eagerly awaiting her touch melted away misgivings and concerns. Traveling to the dancing meadow was a delight compounded by his desire to share in her ritual.

A simple moment in time full of pleasure and pain was shared by two beings for the sake of a bond. She knew they shared a place within the dream world that none could enter, and it had become a comfortable retreat. His willingness to open his mind to her was euphoric and addictive.

Parting ways, it was somewhat obvious they would both relish the moments together in their dreams. Her hope was that her own troubles would not invade his images. He had found a peace and sweet release in what was offered and she would hate to undo it.

Elvira weighed heavy in her mind. The bond to the ShadowMoore had been broken, and it was in need of repair. Her candle sat cool and empty looking abundantly lonely. Her soft wispy dances that filled the tavern were stilled and Izznet missed her presence. It was not the same without her.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
It was nice to spend time again just taking a walk in the moonlight. The pathways close to the water in Yew always seemed to be less traveled these days, and this made it more suitable to their needs. The absence of trees on the one side afforded them a view of the waters, a dark swaying tapestry on which the moon and stars gazed back up to where they hung in the heavens. The need not touch one another to feel the others presence. But from time to time the cast a look the others way and smiled contentedly.

Aedon enjoyed her company, and looked forward to each evening spent with her. Their talks knew few restrictions and always were intelligent and funny. They in fact seemed to take great pleasure in the joking which took place between them. Life after all was all too often dour and far too serious. Within the span of night they could let loose and enjoy the lighter side of things without either taking some offense not intended.

They stopped before a building, with doors opened wide and entered. The owner was clearly working to ready some business. The room was neatly set up with a stave against the far wall. A suddenly silliness seemed to overcome Aedon and he hopped up on the stage and started to sway before her in what had to be the most non-seductive dance ever danced. But she laughed lightly at his antics, and that was the desired effect. They lingered there for a while, looking through the place admiring the handiwork. And then, stepping outside Izznet opened a small gate and they stepped through to Shadowmoor.

Izznet was looking for some items she wished to pass on to someone, and Aedon sat in a chair across the room watching her. He enjoyed the way she moved with amazing grace from chest to chest. He thought to offer to help her, but for now the view was so nice he preferred to just watch.

In time, his emotions over took him and he went over to where she stood -then lifting her hair, kissed her lightly on the neck. She smiled, and returned the offer of affection and gave a light squeeze to his hand. Dropping her hair, he watched as it fell down her back.

Her search completed, they went to the lower floor of the house and stood talking at whiles. Sometimes playful in tone, they would tease one another always standing within arm’s reach. From time to time Aedon was compelled to stroke her face lightly and slide his hand lovingly over her shoulder and onto her arm. She was always willing to return any affection he offered and responded to him in ways far deeper than the simple brush of a hand.

But the night was waning, and it was time that he makes his way back to Aegis and on home. They walked out, and she stood on the porch watching as he stepped upon the grass and moved towards the path. Looking back for a moment he smiled to her and waved. She called for him to wait and removing the silken belt from around her waist, tossed it to him. Catching it, he held it up to his face and inhaled deeply the scent of her perfume. He bowed low to her, and turning his back to the path, headed home.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
“I feel tired. I feel alone. I feel sorrow deep within my being. Mostly, I feel. Aedon was correct in his assessment.”

Speaking to herself in the silent darkness of the obsidian seemed almost comical when given a moment to see. The depth of loss she felt hearing Elvira was trapped in Nujelm rang in her ears like a hollow bell, sadly out of tune. Even more troubling was the idea that a ghost was leaving traces of grave dust scattered about.

The retelling of his encounter made her smile. He held a gentle manner in dealing with those in need. A wayward ghost was no exception. It was evident Aedon felt as much responsibility to Elvira as Izznet did.

Perhaps their bond was deeper than she had anticipated, but she believed it was something more. He genuinely cared for what would need to happen to the ghost and all the consequences it would bring. She pondered how far his role would carry him when the time came for Izznet to carry out her responsibility.

The immediate need was to figure a way to make contact with a woman who was out of time and place. Aedon had mentioned she seemed confused and lost. The chances were good that Aila was correct in the assessment; Elvira was thrown back to the time just prior to her murder.

Aedon had mentioned she was seen in wedding attire and that she lamented missing a ship that carried her groom. The fact she was in Nujelm was curious. The voyage she was to take traversed between Trinsic and Nujelm, but the details of which city was the start point had been unclear. Evidently she began the day in Nujelm.

If there were any records to be found, it would be clearly beneficial to look in Nujelm first. It was understood she had no family left and her groom had also met an unkind end. A family burial lot would be helpful at the very least.

Izznet traveled to the place Aedon said he left Elvira to rest. It was empty. Upon questioning a guard Izznet was informed that they had forced the young woman out of the outpost and sent the vagrant on her way. They had no desire to entertain homeless waifs.

Infuriated with the guard, Izznet exacted her justice on the merciless guard. His body was tossed to the seas to become food for the sea serpents. Once the fury had been satisfied, Izznet went about the task of finding her Ghost again.

What better place to find a ghost than in a cemetery. As suspected, Elvira was found sitting at a tomb stone weeping bitter tears. The name on the tomb stone belonged to her father. The inscription “Died of a broken heart at the death of his beloved daughter, Elvira.”

“Am I dead?”

“You are, my dear. Or at least you should be.”

“What am I doing here? I do not understand.”

Speaking to Elvira in hushed tones helped to calm the spirit. It was evident that trauma of being pulled back into the waking world was taking its toll. A small pile of ashen dust was collecting where the girl stood. The more she left of herself behind, the harder it would be to let her pass into the Light.

Elvira clung to the tomb stone refusing to leave her father’s side. When she was calm enough to speak she asked Izznet to tell her the whole story of her past. It was a difficult tale to tell.

Dance lessons are progressing quite swimmingly. I do so enjoy the dances we are learning. Papa says I am his graceful angel. How he flatters me so. The grand balls and parties that we host will be ever so much more glorious now that I am familiar with the dances. Perhaps I will soon find a proper mate who will make Papa proud!

There is a ball this weekend to announce my coming of age to woo and be wed. It is rather exciting to think of such a grand party. I can hardly wait to see all the lovely decorations and my finished dress that will be delivered just in time from the tailor. I was told that the lovely lavender contrasts nicely with my eyes and hair color. Perhaps I will meet someone wonderful!

Well, I have met someone. More like he met me. I am unsettled by the whole experience. He seems a bit overly attentive. There are wandering eyes and low whispers from others in the room. There must be something about this individual that perhaps should bring a pause. He seems to be warmed up to Papa well enough, I do wonder about what will happen.

We danced most of the evening; at first he seemed rather gracious and quite charming. As the night grew long he became more and more irritated with everything I did. I would dance and he would scowl as if I moved too quickly for him. He was not happy at the choice of dress color and said my hair just would not do at all. Papa knows nothing of the wicked glances this man has shown me.

The day after the Ball Papa and I sat at breakfast to discuss the happenings of the night before. I was going to tell him of the negative attentions I was given, but Papa delivered news that caught me rather off guard. I am stunned to hear the words from his lips. It must be a mistake, I am certain he would never say these things!

It was told Papa that the man was a “Duke” from another land far from our home in Nujelm. He was in these lands seeking a bride in which to open trade negotiations with his country. He found Papa and came to the party seeking a relationship. Papa was so taken with the Duke’s charms that he willingly and quickly offered my hand in exchange for the trade diplomacy. I am utterly undone and there is no way for me to mention my reservations of this man.

We are to be married at the end of the next week. Are not brides meant to be happy and excited about their upcoming nuptials? Why then am I so heavy hearted? It feels as if my doom has been signed by a single stroke from my father whom I adore. How can he not see the true nature of this man? I am frightened of what may be.

The ceremony was short and with such a lack of pomp and circumstance it seemed more of a non event than the most important day of a young woman’s life. The reception had barely begun when I was whisked away from my home and family with barely a moment to say good bye. We sailed from the Docks in Nujelm towards a land I knew nothing about. All I had known was now drifting into the darkness of the horizon. I was not even allowed my hope chest in which to begin a new home and life.

The other thing I have found odd is that my new husband has barely spoken or even looked at me since the ceremony. There were papers signed in secret which I know nothing, and then the rapid retreat to the ship that is less than ideal for a honeymoon vessel. And the other women who have come aboard are rather of questionable origin. He seems more interested in them than of me. I am undone to be sure! Will I ever find love or happiness? I dare say that my life is now subjected to misery and heartache. I miss home!

There was a noise down the hall from my small room. I did not even get a suite for the honeymoon night. The women who came aboard are “women of ill repute” and they are spending the night where I should have been, in the bedchamber of my husband. I am bitterly heartbroken at this turn of events. There is no love or even passion to be found in this man.

I have taken to walk the decks. I carry a candle to light my way and have found some solace in the ability to read and write. If nothing more my journal will keep me sane. I doubt very much my “husband” can even read the words I scribe. He is no Duke, yet he is a fraud! It is far too late for me to know this now. My Father will be furious.

*The ink is suddenly dragged across the page and the words seem smeared a bit as if something sudden took her away from her writing.*

*It was discovered long later that the woman who penned the words was murdered on her wedding night by her husband. On the pretense of taking her to his bedchamber he stabbed her 7 times. She died grasping a candle in her hand, and his final injustice was to “allow” her to keep the candle to light her way to the after world. His jeering laugh as he threw her body overboard was the last her empty eyes ever saw.*

When Izznet finished reading from the girl’s journal Elvira sat stunned. The words hung in the air like a heavy smog.

“What do I need to do now?” was all she could whisper.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Death was never something to shy from, it was meant to be embraced. She enjoyed very much the embrace of death; generally it was she who embraced as death filled her being with life. But this was different. This death would be bitter and dissatisfying.

Elvira had become a part of the household. Her presence had already been missed and those who visited the ShadowMoore felt it too. Aedon was even still considering his mortality. To be surrounded by mortals, the fragile nature of their sweet precious life was almost overwhelming.

The feelings were beyond frustrating. The fever burned deep in her. Wars, rumors of wars and the deep bond with one who questioned life drove her to acts of violence she hoped to hide.

Fleeing into the night to accomplish her dark purpose she rose on the wind and took the camp with the force of a hurricane. The camps were moving closer and closer to towns and she knew there had to be a higher level of concern shown. The bodies left as they were would eventually be noticed.

She felt no remorse over the lives she stole, but of the ones she had no power to save. Maybe he was correct in the assessment that a beating heart is not the source of compassion. It was utterly ridiculous that she would be so moved by a mere mortal, they were beneath her.

“Get Out OF Your Head!”

Her chastisement echoed on the night like a taunting laugh. The cheeky absurdity of recent developments was simply beyond comprehension. It all started as a challenge to inflict pain and to undo a legend. Such a simple task, yet the consequences far outweighed the reward.

Returning home she walked through the grasses barefoot. Feeling the cold prickle of the winter kissed edges brought reality screaming back to her. There was only one thing to do. The course had been set and she was committed. Regardless of her personal safety, she was a part of him, and he belonged to her.

The bond they shared was not that of a mate, but that born of blood. He wore her mark for those who were keen to see and understand the significance. It was her responsibility to guard him, and until such a time as he begged for death, keep him safe.

As for Elvira, her time would come. A singing bowl had been obtained and the seer would assist in the final act of “charity” to one who had been dead yet lost for generations. The ghost was aware of her predicament, and it was important to allow her rest.

Honestly, the matter of emotions made her want to scold herself. Oddly enough, she savored the times she shared with him. She went seeking opportunity to enjoy his presence. The future seemed muddy with options, yet his life light shone brightly in the world of mortals.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
I am concerned for Lady Izznet. I fear that what has been happening concerning Elvira will have a profound effect on her spirit. And though many may think it is an impossible thing, I think she aches at the thought of what may need to be done. The spirit has been a part of her household for many years and when we sit together at night I often see her glance towards the place where Elvira has always been.

We all feel losses in many ways and most of us will do all we can to not show our pain to the world around us. We speak of duty, and actions taken in sanitized terms in order to keep secret from others the hopeless we sometimes feel when having to deal with a situation we can no longer control.

Having met Elvira I too am moved to compassion for this young bride. Killed by her husband on their wedding night, she walks the shadows of a life she once knew looking for a ship and husband who both left her behind. Still clad in her wedding attire, she has had no idea she no longer lives. She is bound now not by the warming comfort of a flame, but to the coldness of town bereft of any compassion or love for her.

Izznet is all the family she has left.

I have tried to console her, and assure her that when the time comes, she will do what is best for the poor soul. But any words I can offer, any hand on her shoulder or embrace in the night cannot still the torment that she must feel at what may come.

I will be there for her whenever she needs me. I am bound to her in ways I cannot fully understand. And I know well that if she shows this lost soul a fraction of the care and compassion she has shown me, that Elvira’s next step will not be into loss and confusion, but into the warm embrace of the light and the love to be found in a father’s arms.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Dressed only in a robe of fine linen she stepped into the circle painted with salt. The burn she felt spoke to the power that surrounded her. Closing her eyes she began to move around the circle in precise fluid movements. Her arms, legs and torso worked together to create a vortex.

Allowing her mind to clear of all distractions she was forced to face demons of her past coupled with those others that she acquired. Drawing the forces into subjection to her desires had been difficult the past few weeks. Far too many distractions had allowed for a mistake that would cost her the beloved Elvira. She needed to refocus or the price would be far greater.

Continuing to step around the circle the air swirled around her. Wispy fingers tried to move the salt outline desperate to escape her imposed cage. She had intentionally taken her ritual to a secluded abandoned place so as not to release the darkness in places that allowed for easy body jumping. Storm clouds built to fever pitches as she kept her steps at an even pace.

Each pass to the beginning of the circle added another layer to the conjoining. The final element would be to add the small orb containing the tormentor of Aedon’s mind. As her feet continued to move a soft whisper was heard as the incantation from her thoughts grew to be spoken aloud.

The words repeated took the dark powers and focused them. She had begun as a facilitator to be transformed into the conduit for final destruction. The fury she had felt when first learning of Elvira’s fate had been transformed by the deep affection she felt. The ritual was learned from the Watcher, and had required no “purity of soul” merely the “pure heart”. It had taken days of preparation, but the time had come to complete what was begun.

In considering the task at hand Izznet had almost laughed at what the Mages would think. They would think she was a fool to destroy such powers and knowledge. To her it was somewhat reckless abandon that brought her to the ruined inn. All the information she desired had already been taken and harnessed, and it was found lacking. The price was not worthy of the prize.

The cacophony of the storm brewing within the circle was deafening. Its terrible power had already killed and withered cattle grazing nearby. The entities she summoned could not escape, yet their effects were not to be contained.

With a cracking buzz the ground shifted opening a deep fissure directly under her feet. Floating above the opening the air swirled around her whipping her hair in a tornado of ice white. Taking the orb from a pocket she held it towards the center of the circle.

When she released the orb lightning struck it each time marking the capture of another demon entity. Completing the rite with a firm clap of her hands the orb and all its inhabitants were sucked violently into the abyss. Vanishing into darkness with an exploding pop the air quieted dropping Izznet to the ground in a disheveled heap.

High above her the sky opened into a clear moonless night. Stars danced and sang to the purity of the dark. She lay on the ground utterly spent and in need of “refreshing”.

“A moment to lay here, then I will seek him,” she whispered to the stars, and to the Watcher who stood guard over her.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
It was a bit of a surprise to see Avalon pass through Aegis. The watcher had not been around in some time and a sense of both elation and dread filled him at once. Avalon was after all the one that took care of Izznet. Many times doing things even Aedon found distasteful to keep safe her charge. As he called to her, the gargoyle halted and returned to where he stood.

“Much has changed since last I was here. I thought I was in the wrong place.” She said looking around letting her eyes come to rest on the castle.

“Some might call it progress;” Aedon said with a slight grin. “I simply call it ugly.”

“And I would agree with you.”She replied as she turned her gaze back on him.

“I have come from my charge, she needs you. She performed the ritual.” She said a

“Is she alright?” He asked slowly.

“She is weak, and needs you. Come, I will take you to her.”

Without hesitation, Aedon followed the watcher through a gate into the lands of Delucia. Not far from where he appeared, Izznet lay upon the grass. Running to her side, Aedon sat in the grass and lifted the woman holding her close to him and calling to her.

“I am here,” he whispered to her.

Opening her eyes, Izznet reached a hand towards Aedon and then collapsed against his chest. He knew she was far too weakened from the spell to take what she needed to bring strength to her. Without thinking, Aedon reached to his belt and drew out a small hunting dagger –and holding it to his wrist, drew it slowly across his skin. The pain he felt was minimal, and as his blood began to seep through, he saw Izznet stir a bit. Holding her up a bit higher, he brought his wrist to her lips.

At first she seemed to flail her hands about as if trying to grasp something, but at his gentle urging, she brought her lips to his wrist, and drank what she needed to strengthen her. As she grew in strength she spoke saying that she feared she would take too much from him and cause harm. Smiling he tried to reassure her that he was feeling quite strong after having a rather large lunch.

As she continued to feed from him, an odd sense of euphoria seemed to wash over him coupled by lightheadedness. She lay against him still, taking all that she dared from him, and then sealing the cut to his wrist in a way known to her. Asking if she could stand, Aedon told her that he would see her back to Shadowmoor.

When they arrived at her home, Aedon saw her to her room, laying her gently on her bed and covering her with a light coverlet. And then, going to the other side of the bed, he laid next to her, falling into a deep sleep.

When he awoke the day was late and he felt uncommonly hungry. Not wishing to disturb her, he slipped out of the house, and headed to the pub close by to have some supper.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
Standing barefoot on the deck of the small boat, shirt open Aedon stood watching a small dot on the horizon which seemed to be moving towards him at great speed.

He had slept soundly though the night, but craved some air and relief from the close quarters below deck. More than anything right now, he craved a cup of hot tea, and thought that perhaps he could slip off and see if any of the local inhabitants had any to spare.

The first part done, he gave some thought to what his next step might be. He knew all along that with no army of his own, he might have to flee Aegis for a time. It was what Llyr used to call a strategic retreat. At least for now the Hand had been roused to do something besides sit on their mounts in Luna.

The small dot was getting closer now, and Aedon could clearly make out the shape of a bird. Perhaps it was some sea gull on the hunt for food. But as it drew nearer it did not waver a bit in its path, but flew straight and true towards where Aedon stood. He could see now that the avian was far larger than he had thought and felt an old familiar stirring, as though something long gone were returning.

As the bird reached his vessel, Aedon looked and waved in greeting as the large swallow tailed kite stopped some twenty feel above him. With the grace of a swan Nemira lowered herself and landed astride the top mast. The small ship barely moved as she began to wrap her wings around it, encompassing the deck. The tiller man however wanted no part of Nemira and jumping over the side of the rail, ran off into the woods screaming;

“Big bird, big bird!”

Aedon watched the man for a moment, and then looking back to Nemira saying;

“Well first off, you did not need to go scaring the man like that. What do you mean arriving in this manner?” And second, where the feck have you been all this time?”

The bird regarded the man on the boat for a moment, cocking its head from side to side. Her eyes were focused on Aedon as she spoke into his mind, bringing her message.

“You are wrong,” he said in reply. “I know exactly what I am doing, and you can just go tell himself that it might be nice if he does not nitpick every little plan I devise.”

Nemira shifted a bit on the mast causing the small moat to rock, sending Aedon crashing to the deck. Scrambling towards the mast, he wrapped his arms around it and looked to the bird.

“You need not throw a hissy, this will not avail you as it did in the past. I am nor some small lad to be frightened by the boogey-bird. And belay the rocking anyways, the lady is at rest below.”

Nemira’s reply this was an increase in movements causing the boat to sway violent as waves whipped by her wings crashed over the side thoroughly soaking Aedon.

“What I am doing, or choose to do is no longer of concern to him. I am no longer a toy that he takes out from time to time when the mood suits him. Nemira, tell him I will not be controlled by him.”

The rocking of the small craft continued as the large Kite lifted just above the mast and beat her wings rapidly causing Aedon to lose his hold on the mast, and tumble over deck into the water. Lowering herself, she grabbed the soaked man in her talons, and then turning, flew back in the direction from which she had come.

The waters calmed, the small boat settled, as Izznet stumbled up on deck in time to see him vanish into the horizon.
 
Last edited:

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
“Well now, that’s something,” Izznet whispered to the stars.

Meandering through Yew on her way to Aegis had been very informative. Rumblings and mutterings of gossipy women had stated Aegis was “under attack” by some finger or what not. They also were terrified that the castle would be burned down, and all the residents would be hung. Ridiculous rumors of shallow minds genuinely annoyed Izznet, yet these whispers made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Closing her eyes summoning the vision of his face in her mind she knew where to find him. Avoiding Aegis, she went straight to a secret cave she had used often when in need of a secure location. Inhospitable landscape and an utterly dreary cave in its own right made it ideal for staying quietly out of sight.

She was delighted to find him safe. Shaking her head she smiled at him.

“You poked the hornet’s nest, didn’t you?”

His sheepish grin was endearing, but did little to ease her mind. There was little doubt that if those seeking him were attentive, they would be able to figure out where he would go. She needed to move him.

The first location was a horrible dark place that thrust him into a distress far beyond what the situation called for. Another plan was required. The best idea was to think like someone else. “What would Isabella do?” she asked herself.

Sailing from New Magincia was not the most ideal, but the plan was solid. Several islands formed a chain not far from the wilderness outside Britain. Most of the folks who traveled there were outlaws, bandits and pirates. The chances were good none of them would want anything to do with a ship the size of “Moonlight”.

The evening was pleasurable, regardless of circumstances. They enjoyed the evening together. Retreating below deck to rest after a long day had been a welcome respite.

Savoring his presence she dared not move through the night. When he stirred and retreated to the upper deck she went to make tea. It was a small galley, almost nothing more than hot rocks and a pot, but it was sufficient for her needs. She required none of the amenities that he enjoyed, but to help keep him comfortable she would try to make an effort.

A sudden splashing and rocking spilled the tea and broke the cup she was preparing. At the sound of a splintering rip she made her way to the deck in time to see an enormous bird take flight with a soggy Aedon.

“What in the Name of All that is Holy and Unholy is THAT?”

Assessing the damage to the ship it was determined the damage was far too extensive to attempt pursuit. She was forced to wait her turn, but waiting was not going to be a good thing for whoever belonged to that bird!

*whispers into the wind* “Speak to me! Please?”
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
It was not the first time Nemira had snatched him up and flown him to some distant mountain top. Aedon tended to think of it as being called on the carpet, and in the past he had always stood penitent and accepted what judgment and punished levied on him. But much had changed within him, and as he stood waiting for His arrival, Aedon paced angrily back and forth.

Landing on a rocky outcrop, Nemira stood, preening her feathers and regarding with some amusement the angry man. In most instances Nemira kept her piece, and let her master do all the talking. But something about Aedon’s demeanor caused her to speak to him once more.

‘It is not a good thing to show anger to one such as him. You above all are aware of what he might do.”

Looking to Nemira Aedon replied. “Frankly, I am no longer concerned of what he might do, or how far in a bunch his kacks are twisted this time. I want him to butt the hell out of my life and allow me to make my own choices. I am not a child Nemira.”

Tilting her head to the side the Bird went on; “In the eyes of many Aedon you are but a petal on the wind, subject to the whims of things and beings you cannot comprehend. Be not over mad, and hold your tongue. I do not wish to see you sent back to the dust from which you came.”

As he was about to respond he heard a cough from behind, and turning towards the sound, saw Figol standing before him. It had been long since he had seen his sire, but little had changed about him. The man seemed ageless for a man that looked to be over three hundred years. His long white hair and beard flowed smoothly down, his sky blue mantel served to conceal his eyes and at the same time gave an unearthly blue aura which seemed to encompass him. He stood staring at him and to Aedon what was in reality no more than thirty seconds felt like an eternity. The mage was no greater in stature than Aedon, and yet he felt small in his presence. Figols dark eyes came to rest on Aedon’s, locking him in a stare such as a father gives to a wayward child.

Shaking his head in order to clear his mind Aedon started to speak to the eld mage.

“What rights have you to bring me here against my will? This has been what I have known all my life. Live your life Aedon, you tell me. And yet every time I seek to do so, you stick in your hand and muck things up. I have done what you asked long ago; do you not think it to be time that you buggar off?”

Nemira turned her gaze from where the two stood not wishing to see what was to come. Figol stood still regarding his creation, and then to Aedon’s surprise, began to laugh.

“Your life; you wish to have your life back Aedon? So be it - here is your life.”

With a wave of his hand Aedon dropped to his knees as though many long centuries of toil fell on him at once. His hair fell long down his back, his beard that of an old man. Countless years of age were upon him, and where once he had known health and vitality -Aedon’s form was now frail and bent –his skin leathery etched with deep lines. The pain of the scars of battle were once again visited on him, and doubled over trying to bring some ease to the burning sensation in his chest.

“Well son, how do you like your life;” Figol said with a smirk. “Are you as well equipped to handle yourself as you thought?"

Aedon made no attempt to reply, but stayed there, on his knees, trying to shut out the pains which threatened to rip him apart as Nemira lifted her head and looked into the wind, and spreading her wings, took flight.
 
Last edited:

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
A whispering flap on the wind caught Izznet’s attention. She knew it was not the Watcher, the sounds were smaller. Shortly before the landing a soft muttering of peace floated on the breeze. Those muttering were stoutly ignored.

As soon as the bird hit the ground a vortex of wind, poison and fire erupted surrounding the kite blocking its movement. Izznet’s fury was in a full boil and the kite was on the receiving end of it. The sheer determination of wanting information on Aedon’s well being was the only thing keeping the bird from exploding into a puff of feathers and smoke.

“You had best explain the actions of stealing Aedon and destroying my ship!” she seethed through clenched teeth.

“Be at peace kindred, I come at your call, not at your command. Release me if you will hear my words and seek my boon.”

“I will hear you, but you will not be released until you have proven yourself to me. Speak quickly, beast, my patience is thin.”

“As you wish. What is it you ask of me, I give you now time to speak and prove yourself to me before my ire raises.”


“Where did you take Aedon?”


“Ah, you seek the Flame. He stands with his father now, and must do so alone.”


“That is not a sufficient answer.”


“It is the one I have for now.”


“Who are you to him?Do you seek his destruction?”


“I am that which lifts him up time and again, carrying him from battle to resurrection. And no, I seek not his destruction, for he is dear to me.” The bird smiled with its response stirring Izznet’s irritation.


“He is dear to me also!” she whispered growling low at the bird.


“Then be at peace and know that if it is within my power, no lasting harm shall befall him.” She said nodding.


“Maybe that is why you stole him from me?”


“I cannot steal that which is my own.”


“Wait! Lasting harm?” Do you know the bond we share?” she said on the verge of panic.


“I know it because I have permitted it to happen.”


“You are the puppet master? Or is it Figol?”


“Puppet master? My dear, I think you misunderstand. Aedon is no ones puppet. His fate, his future is in his own hands. Only he pulls the strings.”


“Then why did you take him?I do not understand!”


“He must face the father.”


“For what purpose?Explain this to me!” Izznet demanded.


“There is much within the flame even he has yet to learn. And as with any child, from time to time a parent must step in and offer guidance.”


“That is not an acceptable answer.” She growled shortening the circle singeing feathers in the process.


“It is the answer I have. No lesson worth learning comes free of all pain my dear.”


“Lessons need a reason to be effective. There is no reason that you have given me. Merely toying with one's snack. I know this well, I have done similarly. If there is a "Lesson", as you say, speak what it may be. And perhaps I will stand down my blood lust.”


Nemira gazes down at Izznet for a moment, then lets out a shriek weakening the ring holding her.


“Force not my hand Kindred, you have asked for answers and I have given them.”


Rebuilding the ring with a blood fury Izznet rekindles and strengthens the grip on the bird.

“You have given me riddles and partial answers. Nothing of merit. You toy with me now too? Who am I to this "father"?He holds no sway on me.”


“The lesson is what he must learn. He has too long wasted time with mundane things and squabbles.” The bird said cringing at the heat.


“Unless it is my anger he wishes to kindle.” She said before pausing. “You mean in Aegis?”


The bird nodded slowly keeping an eye on Izznet.


“What are you saying, bird?” Izznet’s frustration and anger had been quelled with one grand thought. With a flick of her fingers Izznet released the circle surrounding the giant bird.


“I have thus far carried him in death time and again from that accursed place. He must learn to release what hold he believes that land has over him.”


“Agreed.” She whispered.


“Until then, he will perish many times only to run back to that which in time will utterly destroy him.”


“Why not say this clearly?What purpose is the game?”


“But I did. Sometimes though dear, no matter how clearly we speak, others will not listen.”


“Grant me a feather to prove your existence.”


“Choose whichever you will.”

The bird hopped closer allowing her to pick a feather.


“What language will he hear to learn this "lesson"?” Izznet plucked a glowing white feather twisting it in her fingers.


Drawing back and slightly higher Nemira tilts her head saying, “A wise choice.

As to what he will hear, it is hoped he will hear or at the very least, listen to the words of those who care.”


“Does Figol care?”


“The father seeks always to make amends for what had to be done.”


“I have seen the scars, bird. He has a lot of amending to do.”


“But do you understand them or just see what he shows?”


“I have tasted them, their wars and battles. I have seen the images that he saw.”


“At times Aedon is but a child throwing a tantrum when he does not get what he thinks he wants. The battle was what he was bred for. Without it, millions would have perished, a world thrown into chaos.”


“It’s already there.” Izznet muttered disgusted.


“This is not his world, simply where he was trained.”


“Do you tell me plainly, he is Not meant to be protector of Yew or of Aegis?”


“He is not; this is not his battle to fight.”


Standing in a stunned silence Izznet arched an eyebrow considering the consequences of the statement.

“You will take him from me again, wont you?”


“I take him only where he needs to be. And in time I will carry him to his final rest.”


“Am I too, a pawn in the game?”


“No, you are free unto yourself, and not part of the plan,” the bird said with a soft gaze of deep thought.


“Am I disrupting the plan? or helping it along?”


“You aid the flame and urge it to burn brighter.”


“That will suffice.”


“Now, what boon might I grant you?”


“Bring him back here to me. Not to aegis. He is hunted there and they will not be kind to him.I wish nothing from you other than for Aedon's return to me unharmed.”


“Are you certain child, I can give back that which you have lost.”


“There is nothing I want.”


The feather in her hand began to glow brightly waiting for a command. None was offered and it faded back to its shimmering white.

“Think on this, and hold fast to the feather. When his Father has had his say, I will return Aedon to where you live. Will that do?”


“It will, for now.” Izznet said with a nod.


“Then rest easy daughter.”

With the speed of the wind Nemira turned, unfurled her wings and soared into the dimming light of sunset.


Stepping from the shadows Avalon approached Izznet catching her Charge as she collapsed in unrestrained sobs.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
What is the measure of time, a year, a second, or a lifetime? Aedon could not say how long he had been there on his knees before Figol. What may have been a blink of an eye to some seemed to be an eternity spent in agony. He tried once to stand, only to feel brittle bones shatter at the slightest hint of weight. His eyes strained to focus on the form which now stood closer hovering over him like a bird of prey swooping in for the kill. Unable to see, incapable of fighting back Aedon lowered his head and waited for the killing blow.

Figol stood for a moment regarding the crumpled form of the man he had built so long ago and thought to himself;

“It would be mercy to end his life now and allow him to rest.”

Waving his hand he said aloud;

“Get up Aedon; have you not grown tired of living on your knees?”

Feeling himself again, Aedon leapt to his feet and with a cry, charged the eld mage. He did not get far before he found that he was frozen in place. He was surprised and angered to hear the man start to chuckle at him. Leaning down a bit, Figol looked Aedon in the eyes saying;

“Now there is the fire you once had. You almost made me believe I was once again in the presence of the one who led his men in battle so long ago. But no, you are not my Aedon. You are just a shadow of greatness, and no warrior.”

Turning his back and lifting his hand, he released Aedon from his unseen cage. He waited a moment, and when no further charges came, he turned his eyes back to the younger man.

“You are luckier than you know Aedon. I had a few hundred more years I could have dropped on you. Hrmph, I am sure you would not have handled them very well. You might even be little more than a pile of dust right now.”

Aedon stood looking at the mage a red rage slowly building inside. He wanted to jump on the man and drive his head into the ground a few times. He wondered how well he might handle having his brains smashed into goo. He waited for his moment and lunged quickly at Figol’s legs sending the elder crashing to the ground. Moving as quickly as his stiff legs would allow, he was soon sitting astride the mage’s chest holding a stone over his head. As their eyes met, both Figol and Aedon began to laugh. Dropping the stone to the ground, Aedon rolled onto his back next to his father.

“I had you that time old man, admit it.” Aedon chuckled

Reaching over a hand, Figol patted Aedon on the shoulder and saying;

“Yes, that time you had me.”

Sitting up Figol looked at Aedon still lying on his back smiling.

“Aedon, what are you doing with your life?”

“Living it the way I choose. Is that not what you wanted for me?”

“You know what I am speaking of Aedon. I took you to a place that was suited to who you are, and you keep running back to a place in which you do not belong. You cannot save Aegis Aedon; it is not your battle. Leave it to those more suited to such things. “

Sitting up, Aedon looked first to Figol then down to his hand twisting the ring he wore.

"There are many things I have been told I could not do through my life father. I could not fight, and yet I served your purpose, I could not rule and yet I kept Connemara together until Llyrwech returned. I once believed I could not really love another, and yet I have been blessed to find two in my lifetime who move my soul. Why can I not help a town that means so much to me?”

“Because my lad, you do not know what the land needs. You only know what you want.”

Smiling briefly, Figol stood and offered his hand to Aedon. Pulling the younger man to his feet he wrapped his arms about him and patted him warmly on the back.

“I will be watching for a while Aedon, and hope that you come to your senses and return with me to where you should be. Nemira will be listening on the wind.”

Taking Aedon’s face in his hands he leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. Then turning, called out;

“Nemira, you know what to do. oh and Aedon, please stop the power I gave you just to make tea”

He had little time to think or answer. No further words crossed his lips. And as he felt Nemira’s talons wrapping around him, he looked down towards the mage and waved.
 

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
Holding the physical body of the sweet spirit that had graced the ShadowMoore was a profound loss to Izznet. Soft pale blue eyes held her captive as the life drained from the body. When the final breath was released a white light reached from deep within Elvira towards the heavens. Finally her body and spirit were joined together in peace.

Alone, Izznet rose to lay the body of Elvira in the ground with her father. Alone, Izznet returned to the ShadowMoore to don a death shroud of mourning. Alone, Izznet sat at the table in the tavern uncertain of what to do. Alone…

It would have been easy to remain stuck in the hole of self pity, but he would not allow room for it. Speaking softly yet with a force given to a thunderstorm he drew from her the sorrow. Grief is an emotion Izznet was familiar with, but the guilt of taking a life, even that of a ghost, was foreign. She had little concept in how to grasp or release the emotion.

“Do not mourn her rest and the peace she now feels, but celebrate her freedom.”

The words sung into Izznet’s soul and laid on her like fresh morning dew. Elvira’s presence would be missed, but it would be the freedom of rest that would be remembered. When Izznet was able to see the world again, she noticed that Elvira’s candle was lit. The soft glow of the flame spoke of a joy that had at one time been absent.

One task was complete, now an entirely new one needed to be addressed. A feather granted by a bird whose true intentions were still in question. A boon from one with the power to accomplish the task is no small matter.

It took a few days for Izznet to fully comprehend the consequence of even suggesting what she wanted. But the gift was becoming more and more clear and precious. It was, in fact, as much of a gift to Aedon as it was for her.

The evening in Skara Brae had the potential to become something much larger than what Izznet was willing to engage at that moment. With calm words and some degree of reason, he heeded her concerns and allowed the matter to play its own course. Aedon was apt to jump into a fray without looking, and for this moment Izznet required him for something more personal.

She had decided what to ask from the feather, and she was unwilling to do it alone. He had offered to be her company and support. She needed him. The fact she needed anyone was difficult to admit, but he made her desire the assistance.

Laying quietly in the firelight clutching the feather to her chest, she whispered the words that would potentially alter their state of being.

“I wish to have My beating heart return to me, whole and unharmed.”

With the request whispered into the wind, Aedon reached over to add, “I do too.” The only thing left to do was to wait through the night and see what would happen. Her beating heart had been missing for so long, she barely missed it. That is, until he lent her his.

The night grew dark and the fire dwindled to embers crackling and popping in the stillness. A soft echo of a single beating heart was felt in the silence. Adding to the rhythm grew the soft beat of wings until Nemira lighted at the edge of the bed quieting the night with its presence. Gazing at the feather laying across her chest, the giant bird tilted its head and gave heed to the whisper.

Lightly hopping to the bed to stand between them, the bird rested a talon across the feather to Izznet’s empty heart space. Soft clucking mutterings lingered on the night as the power to summon that which was lost was proclaimed.

Soon a soft whoosh of air invaded the room building as it lifted Izznet from the bed surrounded by light. Stepping away from her, the bird watched as the magic swirled around the bed. The breeze, showing like a thin veil of delicate lace, hovered over Izznet as she floated.

Piercing the veil like a dagger a scarlet point drilled into Izznet’s chest causing her body to seize and grow rigid. The vortex that formed over her growing heart shone like tiny diamonds as the thing she wanted most was returned. Once the task was complete the silent explosion released millions of tiny drops to hover into the air.

Each drop held a vision and memory of those things loved and lost. As they grew and dispersed the sorrow faded into whispers and the joys dropped like dew across their bodies. Glistening on their skin those things which brought smiles and laughter lingered and melted back into their core.

Returning Izznet to her place on the bed the bird nodded her head once before spreading wings and disappearing into the night. The job was complete.

The beating wings gave way to the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, then another. Aedon stirred first knowing something was different. A smile crossed his face when he looked up and saw the lingering elegance of precious memories. Glancing over to Izznet he smiled as the soft echo of her heart filled the space. Laying his head on her heart he reveled in the sound of it.

Opening her eyes not wishing to break the spell, Izznet laid her hands across his head. A single tear ran down her face as the realization wrapped her in a blanket of peace. She had almost forgotten the fullness of sharing something special with another person. Laying quietly she felt the tear he also shed in answer to a new beginning.
 

Aedon Durreah

Village of Aegis
Stratics Veteran
Stratics Legend
teacht mháthair domhain
(Come Earth Mother)

Thy chabhair Deontas don bhean seo
(Grant thy boon to this woman.)


Máthair na gaoithe agus spéir
(Mother of wind and sky)


Éist leis an glaoch ar thy iníon agus mac
(Hear the call of thy daughter and son)


A thabhairt ar ais go a bhí caillte agus instill an tine de dhóchas agus síocháin
(Bring back that which was lost and instill the fire of hope and peace)



She had made her choice, and would accept the boon offered her by Nemira. Aedon had tried to conceal his excitement not wishing for Izznet to base her decision on what he might want, but for her alone.
He was deeply moved when she asked that he be there with her during what was to come. He did not believe she held any fear of Nemira, but perhaps she sensed a strength in him that might sustain her should her resolve falter.
As they lay together on the bed, he held her close in his arms and whispered.


“Speak your desire, and then sleep. When you awake, it will be done.”

Grasping the feather tightly, she whispered;

“I wish to have My beating heart return to me, whole and unharmed.”

He was moved by her words, and leaning in closer, he touched the feather saying;

“I wish it too.”

The words spoken, a sudden calm filled the room, and closing their eyes, they fell into a deep sleep. The room seemed to swirl as static energy danced on the furniture, up the walls, and across the ceiling. Gathering in the area above where they slept, shards of glistening light rained down on Aedon and Izznet. It was then that Nemira entered the room.

She came in much the same way she always did when entering Aedon’s room. Smaller she stood with wings of shimmering gossamer, her entire form bathed in a warm glow. She paused briefly looking around the room, then hopping to the bed, she flew up and landed lightly on Izznet.

Moving with purpose, she stood above the woman’s chest, and dug her talons in deeply. Lifting her head, she began a chant long in preparing and yet by out timekeeping, but an hour’s preparation. Her craft was as ancient as the world, and as she sang, the room grew in light and warmth until it seemed to glow white hot.


Her words spoken, she slowly withdrew her talons and hopped once on Izznet chest giving a long shriek. At that moment, the woman’s heart began to beat once more in her chest. She left no trace of a wound, and gave ease to any scars that might have long lain on Izznet’s skin. She stood for a moment, and then hopped between the two and up to Izznet’s ear. Leaning in close she whispered;

“I grant thy boon with great happiness daughter. Tend well your heart, as well as the one you also hold for that heart is dear to me as well. I will be watching you with care and love.”

With that Nemira spread her wings, gave a loud shrill trill, and vanished from the room. All within the area settled into the quiet peace of the night – a silence unbroken but for the sound of two hearts beating.
 
Top